Bundestag and other surprises

We tried to get into the Bundestag on Friday and learned that we needed to request tickets in advance. So, on Saturday morning I went online and found that it’s not a matter of filling out a form but of writing an e-mail and waiting for a response. I sent my e-mail on Saturday morning, and wasn’t surprised when I didn’t receive a response over the weekend. But I got worried when I still hadn’t received a response by yesterday afternoon, and I sent a follow-up e-mail.

This morning, still having received no response, I printed out my e-mails and we resolved to show our requests to the guards and try to talk our way in. The first guard said that we’d asked at the wrong post but that we’d probably get in simply by showing our e-mail, and that it’s possible we’re on the list anyway. Indeed, the guard who mattered found us on his list, and we’d apparently arrived at precisely the time they’d allocated for us. Things were looking pretty good until they asked for our identification. I had my driver’s license in my wallet, but Alla had nothing. Briefly I thought about how long it would take to go home and return with proper identification, when Alla and I simultaneously came up with alternatives.

Alla proffered a credit card with her name on it and I offered one of our business cards that have our pictures and our names on them. The guard grumbled that we’re supposed to have proper ID with us at all times, Alla promised to start carrying her driver’s license, and he waved us in.

We didn’t get to go to the very top of the glass dome because cleaning crews had just started their ascents, but we got excellent views from the roof and took about a thousand pictures.

Many other things worked out smoothly for us today, and I intended to write about how well Alla has acclimated to travel in Western Europe. (This is her first real trip.) But then there was the subway incident this evening. We had booked dinner reservations at a café just outside the Opera House so we could listen to an open-air concert. The restaurant lady had stressed the importance of arriving on time to keep this reservation, and we ran into a problem when the S-Bahn shut down temporarily due to a suicide on the track. I led her onto a U-Bahn which could get us the same station with a few changes of train. Let’s just say that Alla finds the transport system here a bit tricky anyway and she grumbled the whole way about giving up and returning to the hotel.

In fact, we got to dinner pretty nearly on time, though the show itself didn’t live up to the drama of getting there.