In the middle of…Jerusalem
The Western Wall here, the Dome of the Rock there, hundreds of churches, synagogues and mosques in Jerusalem in the area of just one square kilometer of the Old City. Rather unknown, on the other hand, is that another world religion has its pilgrimage site in the area. You only have to walk a few kilometers out of town to a gas station. There are petrol pumps and black coffee, but the two Messiah statues that stand out the most are two or three meters tall. His trademark: the quiff. His Holy Scriptures: 711 Songs. He is called king, he was born in 1935. Everything in this gas station reminds of him, pictures, postcards, mugs. And as the disciples bob to his verses, a man who looks like him raises his voice in front. “Love me tender,” he sings. Here, in the “American Cafe” in the promised land, there is no doubt about it: Elvis is alive. Marcel Lascus
In the middle of…San Francisco
(Illustration: Marc Herold)
After an evening snack in the Sunset District that taught me that bean paste and shrimp dim sum aren’t for everyone, I return to the room of my lodging with a senior Taiwanese couple. It’s 9:00 p.m., jetlag is on my neck, I fall into bed exhausted – when suddenly half of Taiwan storms into the apartment. Shoes clatter in the hallway, flute music sounds in the next room, bright giggling in Mandarin. A look through the crack in the door. A dozen women in red robes stand there, each more beautiful than the last, and in the midst of them is a short, bald man with glasses and a digital camera. He sees me, smiles apologetically and says, not without pride: “We’re having a dance rehearsal, the performance is next week!” Five stars to the couple on Airbnb for this cultural heist in California. Caroline Werthmann
(Illustration: Marc Herold)
In the middle of… Brühl
When space in the home office is running out, the procrastinator finally gets down to work: All the LPs are heaved into the basement – 20 years after the last record player gave up. But the longing for vinyl must be obvious, because the family promptly gives her a record player. Does she know what triggered her? All LPs come back upstairs, where they listen to them first – and at least clear them out. Many classics no longer sound so great after a 40-year gap. Even worse for the rest of the family: recordings that have stood the test of time are now running up and down, Billy Joel’s “52nd Street,” the early Lindenberg, rush. And worst of all, the recipient keeps singing along. Not text-safe, but loud. Now a longing can be seen on the faces of the others – those for the time without a record player. Milan Pavlovic
You can find more episodes of the “In the middle of …” column here.