Lichtfest
Last week was the 25th anniversary of the peaceful protests in Germany that led to the fall of the Berlin Wall and reunification. To celebrate this, Lichtfest was held, in Leipzig, apparently in Chemnitz also, although none of us knew it was happening, and in other cities in Germany.
On Wednesday I went to see a film with Beth and her housemate Susan (who is German and never speaks English - good German practice points!). It was in the absolutely lovely Clubkino Siegmar in Chemnitz, a kind of art-house-y cinema that shows unusual, old, or foreign films. I've been told that the downstairs screen is brilliant and has armchairs, tables, and a bar in the back, while the screen upstairs showing our film was less comfortable but still interesting, with rows of wooden chairs rather than several attached to each other like in a normal cinema, in a tiny, intimate room with mood lighting. The film was a short documentary filmed by some schoolchildren a few years ago about the protests that occurred in Chemnitz in 1989. Although the amateur filming was sometimes a bit iffy and not the professional quality of BBC documentaries that I'm used to (obviously, as they were pupils not professionals!), it nonetheless had interesting footage of the kids interviewing some of the protesters, and a few lovely shots of what Chemnitz looked like back then. Twenty five years isn't really that long, in terms of history in general, I know, but for people my age, it's more than our lifetime and therefore kind of inconceivable.
I found the film very moving, despite not understanding a large amount of the conversation spoken by those interviewees with incredibly thick Sachsen dialects. The defining features of these protests was their peaceful nature, and what it achieved. It's incredible that the Volk managed to fight the violent and terrifying regime with such non-violent behaviour, and more, that it made such a difference; those in power listened to the citizens' voices, and only a short time later, the Wall came down.
This highly emotional feeling was multiplied at Leipzig's Lichtfest. We managed to see the speeches on the big screen made by the mayor of Leipzig, Joachim Gauk, and a number of other ambassadors from Hungary, Poland, the Czech Republic, and Russia. The representatives from the Eastern European countries seemed to be there, from what we could make out, both because of the impact the German protests had on their own countries, and because of what their countries did to help Germany at the time. The Leipzig mayor was an especially brilliant speaker, and his speech brought a tear to my eye. The fact that I am a huge sucker for speeches, motivational talks, humans being kind to other humans, humans being kind to animals, etc., does not negate his brilliance. (So peaceful! So democratic! So important! Just...so...beautiful. Sniff.)
Anyway, Lichtfest was a really lovely experience. There wasn't a huge amount to actually do, but there was a bit of live music - we saw a woman playing a theremin, which was incredibly cool for the first five minutes and then suddenly and surprisingly became unbearable to listen to and we had to leave - and some contemporary dance as well, and we generally soaked up the festival-like atmosphere.
Friday morning was lovely as well - Beth and David (other ELAs from Chemnitz and Zwickau respectively) had stayed at Jack's too, so we all had breakfast together in a little cafe near Jack's house. I will leave you on this note: if you get the chance to try a Nussschnecke then you absolutely must - it literally means 'nut snail' and it's a pastry in a coil shape with icing and a nut filling. It was amazing, which meant that we had to have them again on Saturday morning.
On Wednesday I went to see a film with Beth and her housemate Susan (who is German and never speaks English - good German practice points!). It was in the absolutely lovely Clubkino Siegmar in Chemnitz, a kind of art-house-y cinema that shows unusual, old, or foreign films. I've been told that the downstairs screen is brilliant and has armchairs, tables, and a bar in the back, while the screen upstairs showing our film was less comfortable but still interesting, with rows of wooden chairs rather than several attached to each other like in a normal cinema, in a tiny, intimate room with mood lighting. The film was a short documentary filmed by some schoolchildren a few years ago about the protests that occurred in Chemnitz in 1989. Although the amateur filming was sometimes a bit iffy and not the professional quality of BBC documentaries that I'm used to (obviously, as they were pupils not professionals!), it nonetheless had interesting footage of the kids interviewing some of the protesters, and a few lovely shots of what Chemnitz looked like back then. Twenty five years isn't really that long, in terms of history in general, I know, but for people my age, it's more than our lifetime and therefore kind of inconceivable.
I found the film very moving, despite not understanding a large amount of the conversation spoken by those interviewees with incredibly thick Sachsen dialects. The defining features of these protests was their peaceful nature, and what it achieved. It's incredible that the Volk managed to fight the violent and terrifying regime with such non-violent behaviour, and more, that it made such a difference; those in power listened to the citizens' voices, and only a short time later, the Wall came down.
This highly emotional feeling was multiplied at Leipzig's Lichtfest. We managed to see the speeches on the big screen made by the mayor of Leipzig, Joachim Gauk, and a number of other ambassadors from Hungary, Poland, the Czech Republic, and Russia. The representatives from the Eastern European countries seemed to be there, from what we could make out, both because of the impact the German protests had on their own countries, and because of what their countries did to help Germany at the time. The Leipzig mayor was an especially brilliant speaker, and his speech brought a tear to my eye. The fact that I am a huge sucker for speeches, motivational talks, humans being kind to other humans, humans being kind to animals, etc., does not negate his brilliance. (So peaceful! So democratic! So important! Just...so...beautiful. Sniff.)
Anyway, Lichtfest was a really lovely experience. There wasn't a huge amount to actually do, but there was a bit of live music - we saw a woman playing a theremin, which was incredibly cool for the first five minutes and then suddenly and surprisingly became unbearable to listen to and we had to leave - and some contemporary dance as well, and we generally soaked up the festival-like atmosphere.
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| Seriously try one. This is the Nussschnecke revolution. |
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