6 Hours in Hannover

If you look at the places I’ve written about for this blog you might think, “This shithead is never home.” It would be an understandable assessment.  Unfortunately most of the cities are places I have visited for work. When I leave those places I come home…to work. I have not quit my day job and I am lucky to have an understanding boss who realizes I’m the shit. He let’s me take a few days off here and there but I rush to get back. Therefore, when I’m out of town I try to fit in as much as I can.

Case in Point: Hannover

I was in Germany for the Spoken Word International Festival produced by the poet, organizer, and all around badass Bjorn Hogsdal. The festival was based in Kiel (an hour North of Hamburg) but it took place in cities throughout Schleswig-Holstein. The last show was in a small city called Büdelsdorf. Ever heard of it? Me neither. It was an early afternoon show at the Nord Art Center, an insane art gallery created out of an abandoned steel factory.

Nord Art Stage

A couple weeks before the trip, my friend Tobi Kunze asked me if I wanted to tack on another show in Hannover. Hannover is not super close to Büdelsdorf. It’s a 3 hour train ride. I almost said no. I knew the trip was going to be packed, I was leaving the next morning, and I could’ve used an afternoon off before heading back home. Once Tobi assured me that there were multiple trains that could get me back to Hamburg in time to make my flight, I agreed to do the show.

The only thing I was worried about now was Tobi. Tobi and I had done a couple tours together. He was undoubtedly an excellent performer but I had a hard time imagining him having the focus to put on a show. Tobi is an awesome guy but easily distracted. What you must understand is that the promoters in Germany are very good at what they do. They are very serious, organized, and businesslike. Tobi, on the other hand, almost missed a train because he was playing “Angry Birds” in the toilet.

I had reason to doubt him. But alas, I got on that train to Hannover.

Dear readers, I love me a train ride. Even if the show sucked, the train ride was worth it. Büdelsdorf doesn’t have a train station so you gotta hop over to neighboring Rendsburg. The train station in Rendsburg is small but its home to a Chinese restaurant that is able to take 6 orders, cook them, and deliver them within 5 minutes so your late ass can still make your train.

In the loop

The train leaves the station and enters the Rendsburg Loop, a meandering circuit that gradually climbs up and up until it reaches the Rendsburg High Bridge. At 138 ft, the bridge clears the Kiel Canal and heads south to Hamburg.

The train was empty except for our party which consisted of poets from the festival, Tobi, myself, and poet/rapper Yasmine Hafedh who was also performing in Hannover. We spent the trip eating, chatting, and looking out the window. Typically I would read on the train but the only book I had was “The Girl on the Train” and it seemed a little bit too on the nose. After a brief stop in Hamburg, we arrived in Hannover.

It was mid-September and the weather was mild. Outside the station, Hannoverians were out in full force riding bikes and enjoying gelato. Tall German men who looked as if they ate nothing but protein shakes made with virgin goats milk strolled about in uncomfortably snug shorts. Tobi led us down the main street that leads from the station. It’s a pedestrian only street that looks down upon an underground shopping arcade.

There were only a couple hours before show time. Instead of taking our bags to Tobi’s apartment, he led us to the venue to drop off our stuff. I did not know where we were performing. In the north, Hamburg has the largest poetry slams. Americans familiar with poetry slam might not believe me but Hamburg alone has around 4 slams a month, they almost all sellout, and the smallest venue has a capacity of 500. I ran a slam in Chicago and we’d be doing the moonwalk if we had 50 so the Hamburgians don’t fuck around. Hannover was never on my radar as being a popular spot for poetry so I assumed we were headed to a small theatre or club.

I was wrong.

We walked past the outdoor cafes, past the modern shopping high rises, and walked into what I thought was a public square. We were walking through a tree lined plaza that led to the Hannover Opera House. The slam was in the Opera House. I don’t go to the opera. I don’t think I had ever seen a proper opera house and I was about to perform in one. I quickly reassessed my planned out fit for the evening. This was gonna be fancy so I had to look fancy. Luckily I had appropriately over packed and at the bottom of my duffel bag was a wrinkled but clean denim button up shirt. Okay, maybe it wasn’t opera level fancy but it was a lot better than the Big Johnson Surfboards shirt I was planning on wearing.

Green room

An afternoon performance was till going on so we dropped our bags in the green room that resembled an ancient wine cellar. Tobi enthusiastically offered to be a tour guide until we had to get back for sound check. Most of our fellow performers were locals who decided to stick around the opera house but Swiss poet Amina Abdulkadir and I took Tobi up on his offer.

Hanover’s old town is small and though some buildings have older looking facades, most of the architecture is modern. This is because The Allies bombed the shit out of Hanover during WWII. According to Tobi, Hanover was the last major city Allied bombers would pass on their way out of enemy airspace. Bombers returning from bombing raids in central Germany would dump whatever they had left on Hanover.

METAL!!!!

One old building that mostly survived is the Marktkirche aka the Market Church aka the Most Metal Fucking Church EVA! The church is a gothic style brick building built in the 14^th century. The church is cool on its own but everyone who isn’t interested in the Lutheran teachings knows the church because of the huge pentagram built into its facade.

We went inside the church and it’s bare. If you’re looking for frescoes and stained glass, this ain’t the spot. If you’re into brickwork (and let’s face it; who isn’t these days? Amiiright ladies?) you can enjoy the bare brick columns and walls that are unfettered by accoutrement. Please imagine I said “accoutrement” in a French accent. Thank you.

Tobi knew the woman who ran the church and he asked her about the pentagram. I have never seen a person with a more exhausted expression on their face. She looked at me and her eyes said, “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

Time was short so we left the church and headed to the river. The Leine River breaks off into 2 branches as it snakes its way though downtown Hanover. We stopped at a patio that belongs to the Hannover History Museum. I don’t know if the water was clean but compared to the Chicago River it looked untouched by nary a pollutant. There were stairs you could walk down to get to the river for fishing, swimming, possibly a casual wade. These were all activities we had no time for.

Metal entrance

On our scenic route back to the Opera House we sauntered though a plaza called “Ballhofplatz”. This spot was home to a sports hall so folks could play ball games no matter the weather. What those ball games were, I have no idea. In the early 1900’s it became the cheap spot for the lower classes to live and had a higher crime rate than most areas. Then the artists came because gentrifying knows no bounds or era. With artists came a theatre and the area became known as a place where gays and lesbians could be out and proud. Then you-know-who came into power and kicked out most of the people living there. This was also the area were Tobi first started hosting poetry slams in Hannover.

Our sight seeing was cut short so we could get back for soundcheck. This was the first time I would be laying eyes on the actual performance space. You can’t see any of the stage until you walk out onto it. Once you step out, it feels like the balconies are right on top of you. It feels intimate even though there were nearly a thousand seats and 3 balconies. While the theater has a classical exterior complete with rows and rows of columns and arches, the interior is very modern but in an 80’s doctors office kind of way. This was a real deal venue but I didn’t want to get too excited. While I was marveling at the amount of seats, Tobi apologized to me in advance because the show was not sold out. I immediately envisioned a spattering of 30-40 die hard poetry fans, their clapping and cheering echoing in the empty vastness.

Opera House interior

Soundcheck completed, we retreated back to the green room dungeon until show time. Though my expectations were dimmed, I managed to iron my button up shirt, dragged a comb through my hair, and ate a backstage sausage.

The show was going to start this way: two hosts would start the show with some banter to get the crowd warmed up. After explaining the rules of the slam, they would begin introducing each competitor. We would all be on the stage for the entire slam.

We poets gathered in the wing and an assistant lined us up in the order we’d be introduced. I could hear the audience a little bit but I could not see any of them. The good thing was that it sounded like there were more than 40 people. I became more and more nervous as I neared my turn. When it was my turn to walk out, I felt like I had just been introduced as the headlining guest on the Tonight Show. The audience cheered wildly (for everyone, not just me) and to me, it looked pretty damn close to being sold out. Technically, Tobi was not lying when he said it was not sold out. Turns out the Opera House holds 1300 and the presale alone was just over 1200.  

 

It me!

I had the misfortune of going first which strategically is not the best slot to have in a poetry slam. I was feeling good though because all my jokes were hitting and the crowd applauded wildly. It was by far one of the top 5 performance moments of my life. I’d like to tell you that I did so good that I blew away the competition and won the slam but that is not how it went down. My scores were high but I knew they wouldn’t hold. The upside is I could now just watch the rest of the show somewhat relaxed and not nervously biting my fingernails.

The final round came down to Toiga from Hamburg and local boy Sebastian Hahn. It was close and both got a great crowd reaction but Toiga emerged victorious. We assembled for a tremendous curtain call to close out the show then it was all over. I had doubted Tobi but holy shit, he came through in a major way.

Tobi pointing out who he wants to fight

We celebrated with post-show schnitzel at a restaurant close to the train station. I was being a trooper for a couple hours but I was exhausted and I still had to get the train back to Hamburg. Tobi and the crew walked me to the station, helped me buy the ticket, and gave me explicit instructions about which Hamburg stop to get off at. I’m glad they did because if they didn’t I would’ve been standing on a country road 15 miles outside of Hamburg wondering what the fuck happened.

Ticket secured, we exchanged hugs and farewells. Tobi had a hotel room reserved for me if I chose to stay and maaaaaaaaan I would have rather stayed in a hotel room instead of sleeping fitfully on a train but I had a flight to catch. As the train pulled out of the station, I popped my head out of the window. I pulled out my trusty handkerchief and waved it as Tobi ran alongside waving at me, begging me to stay in Hannover so we could start our new lives together.

Most of that last paragraph was true but I'll never say which part.

Would I Go Back?

Come on now. Of course I would go back. I’ve stayed in airports longer than I stayed in Hannover. I wanna go see the gardens. Yeah, that’s right, I wanna see some well manicured fucking gardens. I wanna learn about the Vampire of Hannover. I wanna take a day trip to Hamelin and learn about the Pied Piper. I wanna do all that shit.

Hannover: I know it was a one-night stand but you know me better than that, baby. I’ll be back.