For 2 years, I had somehow pulled it off. When a few work colleagues arranged an outing to a new spa, I conveniently already had plans. After playing sports with friends, I had always forgotten my towel, or had to rush off, leaving them to enjoy the sauna without me.

by Anna Patton

I’d done pretty well, considering that for health-obsessed Germans, going for a sauna is like going for a coffee, only better for you. A friend was sitting next to a German girl on a train once. They got chatting, and just like that, she invited him to a sauna. (He accepted.)

To us prudish Anglo-Saxons, nothing sounds more horrific than sweating in an enclosed space with a bunch of strangers (or worse still, with friends). But after two years in Germany, the readiness of people around me to bare all got me wondering. Might there be something seductive in stripping off? Could my reservations be stopping me from understanding what makes Berliners tick?

So, when I found myself in the awkward position of having already agreed to meet a friend in a place called “Liquidrom”, I swallowed my protests. Liquidrom, you see, turned out to be not some trendy bar, as I had thought, but a “wellness centre”. And wellness might sound pleasant but it’s really just German for “naked sauna” – a fancy one, granted – but a sweatbox nonetheless. 

So it is that I find myself in a room the size of my bathroom with about 12 naked strangers, one naked friend, and one pot-bellied, stern-looking sauna man (he gets to wear shorts and flip-flops). Having stumbled in red-faced a few minutes late for the hourly “sauna Aufguss”, I’ve missed Sauna Man’s introduction and have no idea what he’s doing there, why we’re all looking at him, and what he’s planning to do with that towel. 

I feel like I’ve stepped onto the set of some slapstick German movie and I get a sudden flashback of a dark comedy, Im Schwitzkasten, I saw a few years ago, where a man is found dead in a sauna. Once Sauna Man gets going, an untimely end doesn’t seem entirely unlikely here.

We’re sitting in rows of tiered seating as if we’re in tiny theatre. Which, in a way, we are. There’s a kind of furnace with hot stones, and aromatic liquid is poured over the stones, causing a loud hiss and a wave of steam. As the steam rises, Sauna Man raises the towel high above his head, looking his victim in the eye, and then whips it down, the rolls of fat round his tummy shuddering as he releases hot steam full-belt into each person’s face.

We cower under the heat, but do not budge. People are aahing and breathing heavily. No one looks at each other, we just watch Sauna Man with an almost religious reverence.

If I faint, I wonder, and fall onto the floor, would someone pick me up? Probably Sauna Man steps over bodies all the time when they crumple to the floor.

Luckily, we’re allowed out for a few minutes – the interval, as it were. We congregate in the shower area and suddenly it doesn’t seem too strange to be standing around stark naked, as we await the summons to return for the second act. The mortification and sheer panic so familiar from those nightmares where you find yourself naked in front of a roomful of strangers doesn’t materialise, strangely. We’re all in this together.

Ten minutes later and we’re showered off and wrapped up in fluffy white bathrobes. Now that the ritual punishment is over, I can actually enjoy working on my “wellness”. Outside, there is a small hot tub, surrounded by sun loungers; inside, a bar serving fresh fruit salads and herbal teas (and beer – wellness apparently includes alcohol). There are smells of lotions and freshly washed hair and the sound of occasional feet flip-flopping upon the wooden floor. Watching the autumn sky darken, we relax on loungers with a smoothie, and muse over the understated Anglo-German cultural divide that surfaces above all in our attitudes to nudity. “I like to think of it as proof of civilisation at its most advanced”, my friend is saying. Looking around at my wonderfully calm, soothing surroundings, I wonder if he might be right. I feel happily drowsy – and quite proud at having survived my first naked sauna experience. Perhaps I could get used to this.

“Oh”, says my friend. “It’s nearly 9 o’clock. Coming?”
“Where?
“It’s every hour – time for the next session.”
My heart sinks. Civilisation my arse.

Picture (c) Alamode Film

Sólo quiero caminar

Just Walking
Spain, Mexico, 2008, 129 min
Director: Agustín Díaz Yanes
Cast: Diego Luna, Victoria Abril, Ariadna Gil, Pilar López de Ayala, Elena Anaya
Section: Panorama Special

by Agnes Emri

In Spanish director Agustín Díaz Yanes' heist film Gloria (Victoria Abril), Aurora (Ariadna Gil), Ana (Elena Anaya) and Paloma (Pilar López de Ayala) plan and execute a robbery that even Ocean's Eleven would admire.  Women in gangster films usually play submissive mothers or obliging prostitutes, but these four get tired of being kicker around, beaten down and spit on. They take action to revenge those men, who treat them as sexual objects or as mere "pretty women" waiting to be saved. Most of the film's plot is set in Mexico, but the fact that these girls are Spanish is constantly mentioned to explain their tough behavior. Mind you, these references come form the lips of male characters looking for cheap explanations for the girls "abnormal" activities. Regardless of the criminal milieu, these women here are actually standing up for maltreated females all around the world. Therefore, besides the flamenco dancing and bullfighting references, the film does not communicate a message about Spain or Europe specifically.

photo: Berlinale

More from the Berlin Film Festival, reviews and news from the red carpet in the magazine

Human Zoo

France, 2008, 110 min
Director: Rie Rasmussen
Cast: Rie Rasmussen, Nikola Djuricko, Nick Corey
Section: Panorama

by Ole Skambraks

“Bonny and Clyde in Kosovo” is a proper label for the first feature film of the young Danish director Rie Rasmussen. It opened this years Panorama section and provoked a real uproar in the audience. Some burst out with laughter, others left the screening with disgust. Rassmussen announced the film as a “love story” but it turned out to be one not for the faint hearted. In the aftermath of the Kosovo war, Human Zoo shows the chaotic relation of Adria (Rie Rasmussen), half Serb, half Albanian and the deserter Srdjan (Nicola Djuricko). Both flee out of the former Serbian part of Kosovo and take on a career as racketeers and arms dealer. A different narration shows Adria separated from Srdjan in Marseilles, where she is an illegal immigrant. Flashback sequences connect the two narrations and locations. Rassmussen makes the audience hop from Adria’s love quest in France to kosovar trauma and pain with a bit too much ease. She neither depicts an authentic way to come to terms with the war past, nor does she dress a psychological portrait of the characters. Adria is a freak, who knows how to survive by the means of violence. But what for? Rassmussen’s character doesn’t know the answer and does not search for it. And when this stylised Lady walks in high heels over piled cadavers we rather tend to think of “Human hell” than a “Human Zoo”.

photo: Berlinale

More from the Berlin Film Festival, reviews and news from the red carpet in the magazine

The powers that be in Brussels are always going on about giving the citizens a voice. With nearly 500 million of us, it’s not surprising that this hasn’t quite happened yet. Last Thursday in Berlin’s European House, however, some 200 of us finally got the chance to speak out.

by Anna Patton and Sébastien Vannier

Organised by the Representation of the European Commission in Berlin and the European Parliament’s Information Office, “Mitreden über Europa” (Talk about Europe) was conceived as a “citizens’ forum”. Responding to questions were MEPs from Germany’s five main parties (Bündnis 90/Grünen, CDU, SPD, the Left Party and the FDP) as well as the head of the European Commission in Berlin.

Compared to the usual debates on Europe, where the “experts” speak and the punters listen, and where the subject matter is theoretical and academic, this time it was up to the public to lead the debate. And the Berliners took that invitation seriously. It was one of the liveliest, loudest Europe discussions we’d ever witnessed, with all manner of heckling, cheering and interrupting going on. There was a tangible sense of satisfaction in the air when someone at the back shouted out loud what we’ve all, at some point or another, longed to say to politicians: “Hang on – you haven’t answered the question yet!”

Question Time

The questions focused above all on energy and the environment, and on the impact of the Lisbon Treaty, recently ratified by the German Bundesrat (the upper house of parliament). The concrete effects of the Reform Treaty on people’s lives, judging by the questions raised, remain unclear, and it was up to the respondents to clarify some confusion. Berliners were also concerned by European militarization, the Charter of Fundamental Rights, a Europe “of two speeds”, and energy policy.

Some of the more unusual questions included “How do you become a member of the European People’s Party?” A girl who can’t have been older than 15 stood up and demanded, admirably, “What are you going to do about our education system?” (Unfortunately, as the MEPs pointed out, education remains a national competence.) A 20-something year-old brought the discussion back to basics: “Europe is pretty rubbish, it costs a lot of money – so, tell us: what’s the alternative? What would Germany look like without the EU?” In response, each speaker was given the chance to justify EU membership; the usual answers were reeled out – peace, freedom, prosperity, open borders, environmental protection. The representative of the Left Party, tapping into the mood of the day, called for “more a Europe of the citizens, less a Europe of politicians”.

Democracy or Hypocrisy?

Yet even as this same politician was saying “We must learn to listen”, three disgruntled students in our row were being ignored. Their concerns related to the militarization of member states (the Lisbon Treaty’s obliges states to improve military capacity) were substantial. But instead of following up on the issue, the MEPs dismissed concern with the wording (“obligation”) as merely a translation issue. The same students also criticised the “hypocritical democracy” of the EU, though this was rejected by the Left Party politician, who saw the Lisbon treaty on the contrary as providing “an instrument for citizens to get directly involved”.

All six speakers were, then, more or less in agreement on most issues – even the Left politician was, unlike most of her party, pro-Lisbon Treaty. Of course, it makes sense that those invited to such events are going to be pro-Europe. Still, if there is a greater difference of opinion between the people themselves and the politicians who are supposed to represent them, than there is among a broad spectrum of politicians, one has to wonder just how representative of their constituents they really are.

The debate only touched the surface of most issues, unsurprising given the format of the event. But the discussion did show that many citizens are well-informed on European politics, and well able to challenge politicians’ platitudes. “Listening” to citizens, however, isn’t as easy as it sounds. Involving the people was all well and good, it seemed – but it had come a year too late for many of the audience. Sneaking a peek at the feedback form our neighbour was filling in, we saw he had evaluated the event as “an irrational exercise of authority”. Clearly, Brussels needs to do more than just talk about democracy – or risk losing the support of a whole generation.

I’ve been living in Germany for a year now. So far, the closest I have come to being chatted up was when, out of the blue, I found myself at the receiving end of a stream of lager-fuelled verbal abuse. I only hope that this wasn’t supposed to be a chat-up line.

by Anna Patton

Of course, I’d be willing to accept that the problem lies with me – I’m no Angelina Jolie, after all, and I don’t even own a push-up bra. Indeed, I did assume the fault was my own, until I realised I wasn’t the only one to have experienced such blatant indifference to my feminine charms. For, as it turns out, every girl I know in this city has suffered the same disinterest. Fiona*, who’s been living here for 2 years, wasn’t at all surprised when I suggested that it was difficult to get to know men in Berlin: “Oh absolutely, you have to be really pushy here – German men never make the first move.” And Carola told me that in all her life, she had never once been chatted up by a German man: she is a native Berliner. Men here simply do not approach strangers.

And I’m not even being very demanding here. After all, my standards are based on the charming yet mostly hopeless British / Irish culture, where flirting mostly consists of clumsily sidling up to a girl at the bar and stuttering something incomprehensible, or later on, perhaps, drunkenly lunging at her on the dance floor. My flirtatious encounters to date have been mostly unmemorable and rarely romantic. (The low point would have to be: “I like the way your hair blows in the breeze”. We were sitting in the living room at the time.) But even those goofy lines or leery gestures, cringe-worthy as they are, give you something to work with, and at least let you know where you stand. In Germany, that serious-looking man sitting just over there may be passionately in love with you, and you would never know.

Victims of Venustraphobia

So what is actually going on here? Is it that German men don’t want to flirt – or is it a matter of being physically unable to do so? Some kind of genetic thing, much in the way white people can’t rap and Europeans can’t dance? Did the emergence of the Italian Stallion and French charmer all those centuries ago cause the German species to evolve in the other direction – nature’s way of balancing things out for the women of Europe?

The evidence of a German incapacity to flirt is rife, at least on an anecdotal level. The numerous “flirt schools” and flirting workshops across the country would barely survive the close of a business day somewhere in the Med. And recently, an article that appeared in several publications compared flirting habits across cultures. German men, it found, “see the conquest of German women as an extreme sport…. The charm thing doesn’t really come into it”. Clearly German men aren’t much into their high-risk sports; according to the author, they may even be victims of “Venustraphobia” – the fear of chatting up beautiful women. Some see this fear as having been provoked by an excessively emancipated female population, who have now taken over the predator role in the sexual hunting game.

Scoring a German

But could it simply be a matter of men behaving in the way that society expects them to? German women, it is claimed, expect their menfolk to show restraint. The Spiegel Online, in the run-up to the German World Cup in 2006, provided some guidelines for foreign fans looking to “score a German” after the game. Would-be seducers should be cautious, it warned, since saying hello to a German lady “comes across as overly forward”. Saying hello? What is this, the 19th century? The Deutsche Welle, offering advice to international students on the subject of flirting, also advises caution. Apparently, “eye contact and good manners” will get you much further than “exaggerated macho posturing”. It seems the definition of flirting auf Deutsch is still limited to a stony-faced stare from across the room.

So why don’t men here flirt? Partly it’s about conforming to standards: getting a wolf whistle as you walked down Unter den Linden would be a bit much. But I don’t believe any German woman could justifiably be offended by being approached by a friendly stranger – that’s just an excuse. Basically, men are afraid to make fools of themselves, because that’s precisely the risk that flirting entails, and Germans don’t go in for risks. They like to do things properly and thoroughly, not spontaneously or irrationally. Forget genetic predisposition, or even cultural conditioning. Germans just aren’t into extreme sports. Although, come to think of it, I’ve never been one for the adrenalin rush either. Perhaps it’s time I checked out one of those flirting seminars?

*Names have been changed

In “Big in Berlin”, Babel journalists look back on an issue that stirred the German capital over the past week. The approach is subjective and analytical, in commentary style – yet always informative. Let us know what you think by adding your comments below.

By Matthias Jekosch

If Thilo Sarrazin (of the Social Democratic Party, or SPD) goes on like this, he’ll soon be bringing out a book with all his best quotes. He’d certainly have enough material for it: Berlin’s Senator for Finance does not mince his words – indeed, that’s precisely what he is renowned for. However, in the last few weeks, his comments have been piling up, infuriating many around him.

As recently as mid-February, he showed those on state benefits (the so-called “Hartz IV” system) how to feed themselves on just 4 euro per day. Bread rolls, spaghetti and liver sausage all featured on his example menu, thus damaging what no doubt forms the largest vote for left-wing parties of Berlin. Around 600 000 people living in the capital depend on state support. Even for his own party, Sarrazin’s comments went too far. The city’s mayor, Klaus Wowereit, called the menu listing “completely unnecessary”.

But Sarrazin would not be Sarrazin if he were to become discouraged by the current barrage of criticism. Speaking at the embassy of the state of Rheinland-Pfalz, he maintained that pupils from Bavaria who hadn’t graduated from high school were more able than Berlin pupils who had. When this was reported in the “Main-Post” a week ago, the entire Berlin press jumped on the bandwagon, with the tabloids even suggesting giving the Finance Senator a muzzle. SPD leader in the Berlin House of Representatives, Michael Mueller, in front of the press, claimed he was “astonished and angered”. Sarrazin simply kept referring to his remarks as a joke.

The commotion had barely subsided when Sarrazin made the headlines once more. In a TV programme, he actually tried to apologise for his “Hartz menu” and admitted that it had been wrong “to pour his calculations” onto a menu. Yet he then commented in an astonishing way – for a Finance Senator – on illegal workers, saying: “Rather than having someone sitting on the 20th floor just watching TV all day, I’d be almost relieved to have him do a bit of illegal work.”

Admittedly, the 63 year-old also receives encouragement from the commentary pages of the newspapers. Even Wowereit said he thought he was “a sort of political Guenter Netzer (editor’s note: a famous German football player from the 1970s, now also known as a TV expert). Sometimes brilliant, he could even speak out more, just not a team player every day.” Indeed, if the basic political statements underlying his pithy remarks were revealed, then many more people would certainly agree with the Senator. Raising benefit payments does not get people into work. The quality of teaching in Berlin is poorer than that of Bavarian schools. Someone who works illegally on a building site does more for the economy than someone who does nothing at all. One could easily agree with the statements. One doesn’t have to, though.