Past Lives at “Guru” in Berlin
By Margarita Delcheva
The sizzling plate of bright-orange tandoori chicken and the metal cup of rice I had ordered for dinner was too large for me to eat by myself, so when a woman sat down at the other end of my table, I invited her to share my food. Before we knew it, we had to share our plates with another unexpected visitor, the sparrows from the rose bush on the sidewalk.
It was a hot Friday and I had taken the U-Bahn to Berlin’s Südstern station in the Kreuzberg neighborhood. After interviewing a dancer in a nearby pub for an article on tango in Berlin, I walked back towards the station and found “Guru,” an Indian restaurant with a few sidewalk tables.
The daring birds between the fragrant branches continued to strategically plan their raids and would dash towards our rice bowls at moments when we were deep in conversation. I started to create, with whatever possessions I had, a small fort between the attack line and my sustenance.
As I advised my companion to do the same, she said, “Build a wall — like Trump!” We laughed, but I also realized we might have wronged the feathered creatures. I asked my new German friend whether we were receiving retaliation due to our shameless consumption of chicken in front of its distant cousin-bird, the German sparrow.
When I sat down at that unassuming Indian restaurant, tired and hungry after my long interview with a dancer, I did not expect to casually meet Annette von Klier, a German actress and filmmaker and now my ally in warding off sparrows.
Von Klier was featured on the covers of “Vogue” and “Lei” in the 80s. She starred in the action movie High Score (1990) and the action-romance Der Bülle & das Mädchen(1985), among other films. She also edited films such as Stalingrad(1993) and The Pharmacist(1997).
I had an inkling I was sitting next to a special and artistic person, but Von Klier and I did not exchange names almost until the end of our encounter. Berlin’s Kreuzberg district, a multicultural landscape of class and grit, is a place where one can encounter artists and intellectuals sprinkled generously among the population.
The more Von Klier told me about herself, the more we found how many interests and challenges we shared. We had both danced flamenco, suffered from migraines, had found a special connection to the work of Georg Büchner, and had links to Argentina. I was close to her daughter’s age, but she seemed to see me as an equal and was fascinated with my research involving tango and the East German Cold War avant-garde.
During our improvised soirée with curry and tandoori, Von Klier and I were continuously waving our hands over the rice, shooing the birds. The sidewalk tables set up at “Guru” were as if part of an elaborate plan to help us bond and keep us chuckling over the futility of our defense.
Von Klier found my laughter uncannily familiar and asked to record a sample of it, a request I was happy to oblige since we were laughing so much anyway. She was convinced my laugh was identical to the laugh of a friend, so to her I magically became a convincing replica of someone she trusted and whose company she enjoyed. As we joked about staging an entire performance, made of laughter, she offered some specific theater exercises to help accomplish this goal.
Even as she admitted to be out of practice speaking English, Annette von Klier expressed herself with poise and elegance. At the same time, her modesty and openness did not easily reveal a past of public acclaim.
Presently, Von Klier rarely participates in the film industry. She prefers a more private life and is glad to keep up with the lives of her grown children. After learning about my tango activities in Berlin, Von Klier told me, “I have to start dancing after talking to you.”
It was exhilarating that I was joking with a famous actress, and we decided we must have known each other from past lives if we have so much in common. I told Von Klier about how close my life had come to relocating to Germany several times throughout the years, but also how it had never quite worked out. We agreed that I must still be looking for a missing piece in the puzzle.
As we each left “Guru,” it seemed as if we had learned more about ourselves, as if each of us was a reminder to the other about what we must do next, artistically. Who knows if we will meet again? Yet, encounters like ours are a reason to visit Berlin, especially on a summer night, when it is green and chirping with possibilities.
UC Santa Barbara journalism students have just returned from reporting in Berlin for a series of feature articles which will be published here later this month. Meanwhile, they have been blogging from the city about their travel and journalism experiences.
