Castor transport 2011

This weekend Steffi and I went to her moms for the annual protest against the nuclear waste transport.  The spent fuel rods are processed in France and then sent back to Germany to their final destination, a small city named Gorleben.  The highly radioactive waste is packed in thick metal containers and is shipped by rail 1200km (750 miles) until the last 30 km, where it is transferred to trucks.  The route the Castor follows is occupied by more than 20,000 police men and women to ensure the security of the transport.  They use dogs, horses, armored vehicles equipped with water cannons and helicopters to protect the route from protesters who chain themselves to the rail or create blockades.  Another tactic used by protesters is to remove the rocks from under the rail ties, destabilizing the track.  This is called Schottern.  The train moves at a slow enough speed to where engineers can check each section of track, ensuring the safety of the transport.  Schottern of course is highly illegal and many protesters simply sit on the road or rail and wait for the police to physically remove them.  There are so many protesters the police cannot arrest them all and therefore only try to secure them and move them away from the track until the Castor passes. 

The nuclear waste left France on Thursday and is expected to arrive in Gorleben on Monday.  The route the Castor takes is less than 20 km from Steffi’s moms house.  Many factions have organized to delay the transport as long as possible.  They range from the well-known environmentalist such as Greenpeace and Robinwood to the small groups of farmers that form their own strategies to delay the transport.  The groups do not coordinate amongst themselves as it more difficult for the police to counter many different strategies as opposed to one.   The goal is to make the transport as expensive as possible to undermine the nuclear lobby and their ties with the government.  Each year more and more people realize that nuclear power is neither a clean source of energy nor is it cost effective.  The majority of Germans are now against nuclear power and that is why the government has agreed to slowly start decommissioning its plants.  The government has reneged on its promise to move away from nuclear power in the past and that is why the activists will not stop until the transport does.   

Our first stop last Saturday was a rally in Dannenberg, a small city of about 9000 residents.  The Castor passes through the town’s train station.  Around 15,000 turned up for the rally.  All over the city there were information booths educating the masses on the myths of nuclear energy.  At the nucleus of the booths and tents was a make shift information center monitoring the transport and the events that surrounded it.   Eye witnesses could call in and report both police and protester activities.  Maps hung from large billboards showing protester camps and past Castor routes.  The map also contained information about police locations and what city the police unit came from.  Not far from the information center was a large tent that served hot food and drink to the protesters, organized on a donation basis.   After having a look around, we joined the march to the rally point.  A large stage was set up from which we heard speeches from activists.  A woman from Fukushima gave a chilling account of how her government also made promises about the safety of nuclear power and now she has no home to return to.  This was not lost on the farmers who are not only residents of the area but also make their livelihood from the land and have everything to lose from a leak.  As a sign of unity but also to later serve a purpose, the farmers brought over 300 tractors with them to the rally.  Last year farmers chained their tractors to one another blocking vital intersections outside of the police perimeter, effectively cutting the police off from reinforcements and supplies.  This year the same strategy will be used although it is doubtful that it will be as successful given that the police now expect it. 

After the rally we tried to go to Gorleben where Anne was to give a concert with her choir.  We were stopped at a checkpoint, had the trunk searched, and were told only residents and police were allowed to pass.  The police were friendly but persistent.  We turned around and drove about 200 meters to a protest camp.  The camp was on a farmer’s property and the sign on the gate read, private property, police not allowed.  Again there were large white tents set up and people sitting before them smoking cigarettes and talking.  A small tent adjacent to a large white one played jazz music while three women stirred large vats of food and drink.  We entered a large white tent and it was filled with people eating and drinking at tables.  In the corner were hundreds of backpacks standing next to one another.  A large white board displayed the evening program.  There were short training sessions on topics like, your rights as a protester, how to speak to the police, what to do in case of injury and so forth.   A loud speaker announced that a session was about to start in the Phillipsburg tent.  We left the tent and walked around the grounds.  It was like out of a US civil war movie.  The landscape was dotted with small camp fires surrounded by small handfuls of people sharing their stories.  A banjo could be heard somewhere in the darkness.  The only thing that was missing was someone cleaning a musket.  I later learned that these camps are not uncommon and there are many of them of various sizes along the Castor route. 

We left the camp and drove 4 km to another village where there was a free concert.  What we found was a small enclosure of three gypsy-style wagons and a 20 meter long wall tent.  A small audience of about 50 watched a comedy act followed by a magician.  A band then began to play and after listening to a few songs, Per (pronounced pair), a resident of the county led us on a walking tour of the village.  We walked a couple of streets southward to the infamous stretch of asphalt where in the next couple of days the Castor would pass over.  There are many alternative routes the trucks could take to get to this final stretch but it was certain they would roll over this street as it is the only one to Gorleben.  We were allowed to walk the street because the Castor was blocked by Greenpeace 100km north and still a good day and a half away.  The street cut right through the small village and there were houses not 10 meters from the road.  It was eerie to think a mother could be preparing dinner for her family and look out the kitchen window and see highly radioactive waste pass right before her garden.  The waste is so toxic that the police that accompany the trucks on foot have to rotate out every hour or so because of the radioactive doses they receive.   Women are not rotated in for fear of reproductive complications if they should ever become pregnant.  Every 200 meters along the street we saw large vans filled with police, sleeping or reading books.  Every now and then they would say hello as we passed by.  We concluded our tour and headed back to the car. 

The ride home took longer as expected as we ran into several barricades set up by the farmers.  Large sections of the street were blocked with cement blocks, tree stumps, large piles of dirt, twisted metal.  The Farmers use anything that will effectively block the street, including livestock. For some interesting photos of blockades type in Castor blockieren 2011.  Per knew his way around and eventually, from taking side roads, we made it out before the area was completely sealed.  We made it home around midnight and continued to follow the events over the radio and Internet.

It was interesting to hear the personal experiences the protesters had with the transport.  It seems at one point or another over the years someone had been sprayed by a water cannon or detained by the police.  Timm, Steffi’s brother had his nose broke by a police baton four years ago.  The younger generations tend to take more risks with their activism towards the Castor.  The older generation support the movement but in less confrontational ways.   This game of cat and mouse between the police and protesters have produced many stories over the years that have turned into legends and are now intertwined with the movement.  A favorite of the residents is about a handful of protesters who broke through police lines by positioning their cars in a police caravan.  When finally stopped they told the police they were undercover and were allowed to immediately pass.  Whether this is true or not, has no effect on the enjoyment of the person reciting it.   

Angela Merkel, Germany’s Chancellor, has promised to shut down all of Germany’s nuclear power plants by 2022.  Hopefully the promise is kept.

The Embraceable Dark

Last weekend Steffi and I visited an exhibit a stones throw from where I work called Dialog im Dunkeln.  There one can see absolutely nothing, literally.  The exhibit has various rooms, each containing a specific urban setting.   The tour is given in the dark.  It is so dark one cannot see their hand in front of their face.  The tour guide is blind. 

We started our tour, a group of eight, and were reassured would leave a group of eight.  Before entering the darkness a seeing man that Steffi said was a regular “hafen baer” (harbor bear) gave us the low down on the rules.  Rule one, no waving our walking sticks around like lightsabers.  Rule two, if you feel a panic attack coming on tell your guide and you will be brought into the light within seconds.  Rule three, anything that emanated light, watches, cell phones, etc, had to be checked at the coat station.   I think there might have been more, one probably having to do with groping other group members, but I lost some things in translation. 

We each were giving a walking stick and headed into the darkness to meet our guide Andreas.  We briefly introduced ourselves which in itself was a bit cumbersome not being able to rely on the body language or spatial positioning to cue us when to speak.  Andreas cracked a few jokes reducing the group anxiety of the first couple of minutes.  After a little bit of small talk we shuffled off poking and prodding our way to the first room, a park.  We could hear birds singing, water running and the rustle of a slight breeze.  Andreas led us over small wooden bridge that swayed when one walked over it.  It was challenging to say the least. 

The next room we entered was a street market.  Again one heard various sounds associated with a market.  Andreas lead us to crates that contained various fruits and vegetables.  I held a coconut in my hand for a good minute and had no idea what it was until the woman next to me said, “Oh a coconut”.  The whole time my mind was racing through pictures of various fruits and vegetables, coconut never appeared.  After sometime of groping the produce Andreas said we could move onto the next room.  One had to wait to move until the wand no longer jabbed or hit against the heal of the person in front of them.

As we passed through the door we realized we were on a street corner.  Feeling against the wall I discovered a doorway and an empty post box.  A couple meters in the other direction we felt a parked car.  Andreas asked if we could tell the model and after running our hands across the body it was clear it was a VW bug.  Our next task was to safely cross the street.  Cars seemed to race by from every direction.  We heard the familiar beeping device to assist the blind but couldn’t decipher what it meant or in which direction we should walk.  Andreas told us he had been asking the city for the last two years to install such a device at a busy intersection by his house but to no avail.  He said often his neighbors help him by guiding him across the street or yelling out the window “its green!” 

The final setting was a boat dock.  We were to take a small tour around the harbor.  After collecting our tickets (handed out at the beginning of the tour) Andreas took each of us by the arm, one by one and guided us onto the small boat that rocked as we boarded.  After all the passengers had found a seat Andreas started the boat and took his position as captain.   After a few attempts, the motor started and we were underway.  The boat continued to rock and one could feel a strong breeze on the face.  “On the left side you can see Michaels Cathedral and on the right City hall,” Andreas announced to the passengers.   After successfully disembarking it was time for a drink. 

Andreas guided us through a door and we felt along the wall until we came to the bar.  Two women asked us what we would like.  Our group was all squished together at the bar.  The bar could have accommodated twice as many people but how were we to know where an open place was?  Steffi and I ordered two malz beers.  “That will be 4.20” said the woman.  Thankfully we had been told in the beginning of the tour to sort our money in our pockets if we wanted to order a drink.   I held out my hand and the women felt the top of it then slide her hand under to receive the money.  I carefully reached for the two bottles.  Having our drinks we headed in the direction of where we were told a couch was.  Somewhere behind us we heard a kid’s birthday party taking place.  It was not just a recording but an actual kids birthday party.  It sounded like they just finished eating and were moving onto another room.  You could hear them slapping there wands around laugh and their voices growing in volume and excitement.  Apparently, kids birthdays are common and we later found out they offer a dinner one can book. 

I sat a short distance from the group and listened to the Q and A session with Andrea.  I wasn’t sure how far away I was but far enough away not to feel like part of the group.  I sat and I listened.  I heard the group.  I heard the women behind the bar.  I heard another conversation taking place over my left shoulder.  I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed.  I felt as if I didn’t exist.  I felt I could travel to any part of the room where there was noise without moving my legs.  I felt unplugged.  I found a comfort in the darkness that I never expected.  Maybe it comes from living in a foreign country when every time you interact with someone you really have to concentrate to successfully communicate.  It was so nice to just sit and listen or choose not to listen and not have to fake interest or understanding.  Maybe it was a nice break from the constant visual stimulus and the judgment that inevitably comes with it.  She has nice legs, he could lose some weight, what is that growing on her neck, I should buy a shirt like that and so on and so on.   After a short while Andreas led us to the exit and we thanked him and said our goodbyes.  We never saw what he looked like just as he will more than likely never see us.

The tour lasted 90 minutes.  I left the exhibition completely relaxed.  Steffi felt a bit overloaded and needed a half an hour to balance out her senses.     

Later Steffi and I talked about what we thought he looked like.  Of course we had two separate ideas but both were distinct in our minds.  I then realized he could look much different then what I imaged.  He could be handsome, fat, deformed, noticeable ill, almost everything was possible.  How many preconceived notions would have flown into my head and distracted me during the tour?

So what have I learned?  First and foremost is to enjoy the darkness.  It is not to fear or to avoid.  Wonderful things can happen in the dark.  Second, I realize my respect for the blind was someway misplaced.  Part of me pitied them but then another larger part was in awe of their independence.  Now the pity part is gone.  Now, I understand they posses something special.  I understand when they say that we are the handicapped ones.  We are not similar but we are equal in our abilities.   

Walking into Walls

May 24, 2011

Today I saw a blind person trying to navigate commuter traffic in the Ubahn Station.  Maybe it’s the voyeur in me but I love watching blind people.  I am always in awe how they gracefully glide amongst the masses, counting steps, counting seconds, honing the sixth sense.  There is one woman in particular who I often see at my Ubahn station.  Even when there are no people around she knows exactly where to stand to be in position to board the train, although the boarding position can vary.  When she finds herself in a crowd, she pauses before moving, allowing others to see her.  Sensing their acknowledgement she begins to move.  Most that see her coming move aside, those that don’t she circumnavigates before they have a chance to realize she is blind. 

Yesterday, coming back from the train station I saw two blind people in the Ubahn.  They moved their wands in sequence like two windshield wipers.  The blind leading the blind. 

So anyway back to the person I saw today.  I wasn’t sure if he had recently lost his sight or was just in an unfamiliar area but he was anything but graceful.  I saw him trip two people with his wand.  Whenever possible he was doing his best to stay parallel to the wall.  I saw him walk into a wall a couple of times and change direction much like a Romba.  I almost fell down the escalators turning around to watch this.  I was always taught it’s not polite to stare but this seemed different.  My staring wasn’t making anyone feel uncomfortable and plus it wasn’t out of amusement it was out of curiosity.  Should I offer my assistance?  Was this part of the process of seeing without seeing?  Would my offer to help be insulting?  I tried to empathize.  If that were me, I could only imagine getting frustrated and swing my wand over my head like a sword until my path was cleared from people.   As I reached the bottom of the escalator I saw a woman help him onto the escalator.  I saw him a few minutes later as he came down the steps to the train platform.  He turned and headed towards the train tracks and the four foot drop off.  You could sense the tension as those that surrounded him went on alert, posed to keep him from walking over the edge.  His wand left the edge of the platform and he took another step.  With his wand hanging over the edge he stopped and made a 90 degree turn and walked along the platform.  The wand leaving the platform with every sweep to the right.  The whole station watched him until he heard the train, stopped, turned and brought the wand close to his body.   He boarded the train and that was the last I saw of him. 

I thought about what I had seen for the following days.  Sometimes I get frustrated or impatient because my environment here is at times very different from what I am accustom to.   I always have been impressed by the body and minds ability to adapt to new environments, especially in the case of the blind.  After seeing this man today I realize it is impressive but what is even more impressive is the drive to preserver.  Figuratively walking into walls seems bearable when compared to literally doing so.

Hafengeburtstag

This past weekend was Hafengeburtstag (harbor birthday) in Hamburg.  The weather was beautiful both days and 1.5 million people came out to see over 300 ships.  The harbor turned 822 years old.  The birthday stems from the signing of a charter by Kaiser Friedrich Barbarossa claiming a tariff free zone on the Elbe between the North Sea and Hamburg.  This caused a boom of traffic for Hamburg and the harbor flourished.  My boss told me that the original charter was forged and it wasn’t discovered until years later.  I asked him how many years later and he didn’t know.  So now I have to look into that. 

Steffi and I met up with a few friends for Saturday’s tugboat ballet.  We found a nice spot on the hill overlooking the Elbe.  The event started at 5pm and lasted a full hour.  About ten tugs and one fire boat took part in the performance.  The fire ship, I was told, with its water cannons open, was décor, like a tree on, a stage.  The tugs rocked side to side and drove back and forth in sequence and even did a couple of pirouettes to the classical music being played to the crowd.  The audience drank their beer and clapped at the appropriate times. 

With every intention of returning for the fireworks, we left the harbor for a place to eat that wasn’t packed.  When we finished eating at what I had coined as the German Denny’s, because it was a chain and offered all things German, we headed to a favorite cocktail bar called the Blue House.  After a couple of Fancy Mai Tai’s it was decided that we wouldn’t make it back in time to see the fireworks so we stayed put for the remainder of the night.  The girls hounded the DJ at my request to play 80’s which he did.

(Missing humorous drinking anecdote here, due to my mother who said there was too much drinking in my last blog)

And a good time was had by all. 

Sunday afternoon we headed back to the harbor for the ausfahrt (exit) parade.  We saw warships, clipper ships, sailing ships, and cruise ships.  Some of the smaller clipper ships fired off their cannons as they sailed by.  That was actually pretty damn cool in the harbor setting; it was a glimpse of the past.  At the end of the parade was the Queen Mary II which had entered the harbor early on Saturday from Norway.  I have to say, I feel like I have a pretty good idea of how Leo was pretending to feel, when he was looking up, pretending to see the Titanic.  That is an impressively large ship.   It was accompanied by many smaller vessels as it left the harbor.  Your deep reflection here.

Oster

Hope you all had a great Easter.  Mine was pretty damn good.  Here in Germany you get both Friday and Monday off for Easter, so I guess that kind of makes up for no Thanksgiving.  Being as Thursday last week was Friday, Steffi and met some of her colleagues at a beach bar after work.  The bar is typical to one you might find at a resort except there is no body of water.  It is a giant sand lot in the middle of the city.  The open air bar is lit by bonfires and tiki torches.  So after a few hours of chatting it up we moved across the street to a club because Steffi needed to dance.  When people started to peel off from the party, it was decided that I would head for home, while Steffi continued to “dance it off” with some of the other diehards.  Shortly after leaving the club I found a nice dirt parking lot to throw up in.  I marked the time and the date as my first time, since being back in Germany.  Within minutes I stumbled across a Doener laden and had a nice post-party Doener (kind of like a gyro but not really).  I eventually found the U-Bahn station after receiving some incredibly complicated instructions from the Doener man and made my way home.

Friday was dedicated to recovering from my hangover and later that day we visited Timm, Steffi’s bro, in the hospital.  Earlier in the week he had some kind of nose reconstruction.  A year or two earlier a policeman hit him in the face with a billy club at Castor demonstration (protest against nuclear power).  So this was a scheduled surgery to make things right again.  From there we continued onto Steffi’s moms where I worked in the garden for two days.  I cleared some brush, President Bush style, and also cleaned out the pond which was an absolute pain in the ass.  There was about a foot of mud and roots at the bottom.  I had to pull it back like a carpet and cut out small pieces with a hatchet.  My hamstrings have never ached like they have for the last couple of days.  They feel like two oblong river stones lodged in my legs. 

Anywho, Sunday night was the Easter fire in Steffi’s village.  Osterfeuer as it is called is when the farmers and residents bring all the wood they want to get rid off to a field.  They pile it up so it’s larger than a two-story house and then on Easter Sunday, after dousing it with gasoline, they light it on fire.  The reason for the fire is it is a place to cast one’s demons but Steffi says they mostly do it because they like to set stuff on fire.  There is always a competition amongst neighboring villages who has the best fire.  A week before the Osterfeuer the village teenagers keep watch through the night making sure the fire isn’t prematurely set by a rival village.  All of this is done while drinking heavily. 

The boys did a fine job looking after the wood pile and on Sunday evening the fire was lit on schedule.  The fire was well attended.  Most of the village turned out not only for the fire but also the 1 Euro bratwurst and beers.  The volunteer fire department was also there all suited up.  They were the group at the bar, in the corner of the makeshift shelter, throwing back the beers.  I even saw one fireman bottle feeding another.  This is how I describe one fireman drinking a beer that is held by another fireman.   After the flames receded to a small inferno some of them made their way to the fire truck and took off.  Later, I saw an older man in his early 70s singing loudly to the oblivious crowd, swinging his beer around.  “Oh the Burgermeister, is here,” Steffi said.  I had heard he wasn’t doing well recently and had been diagnosed with cancer.   Aside from being somewhat tipsy, he looked in tip top shape.  Steffi told me there was a scandal with the Burgermeister last year.  Apparently, he made an appearance at a birthday party and ended up staying and getting really drunk.  Later that night people saw him kneeling on the sidewalk talking to a stray dog for longer than what is considered normally acceptable.  Of course in a small village such news travels like wild fire.   This, however didn’t prevent the people from reelecting him and continuing his 40- year reign.

Towards the end of the night I ran into a friend who organizes the Osterfeuer every year.  I think he has a pretty good shot at being the next Burgermeister.  He has his own business, something to do with green energy, and he is very personable.  He was telling me he was hoping to get his driver’s license back this year.  The cops tried to pull him over for speeding but he took off.  With a smile on his face, he told me it took them 15km before they could catch him and when they did they were “stink sauer.”  He gave me a look that suggested somewhat surprise at the policemen’s reaction.  I have to say he’s a pretty cool cat.  After catching up and drinking beers and schnapps with him, I found Steffi talking to some old school chums.  We all found a nice vacant leather sofa before the mound of burning ash.  Steffi continued her conversation, catching up on the village news and I looked at the stars.  The night was clear and warm.  After a half hour or so we headed back to the house through the dark forest.