"I have a theory," I said to the cabbie as we pulled away from the taxi stand at Wismarplatz in Friedrichshain.

"That cab drivers know where to find the best, cheapest things to eat in the city."

"Some taxi drivers know," the cabbie said. "Not all."

Fortunately, this cabbie, a forty-something Russian-German from Kazakhstan who has been driving a taxi in Berlin for the past seven years, is someone who does know about food. And like many Berlin cab drivers I have met in the quest for a good meal, Andreas Schulz* is also a fan of his job and his city.

"As a taxi driver, I get along with everyone," he says. "Berlin is multikulti, with lots of foreigners, lots of colors. I feel good here."

Schulz, a former professional auto painter, is a descendant of so-called Volga Germans who were invited by Catherine the Great to settle in Russia in the 18^th century and deported to Siberia and Kazakhstan after the Nazi invasion during World War II.

Part of the wave of nearly two million ethnic Germans who began emigrating to Germany from the former Soviet Union in the 1990s, Schulz hasn't been back to Kazakhstan since he moved to Berlin 17 years ago.

During our trip from Friedrichshain to Kreuzberg, the taxi driver says that when he's craving the flavors of his homeland, he cooks pelmeni (dumplings) at home. There is no good Kazakh food in the German capital, he says.

But when he's hungry on duty, he likes to stop for döner kebab (without meat, since beef and lamb are "too heavy" for taxi driving), or at Hühnerhaus, the Halal chicken stand next to Görlitzer Park where he dropped me off before returning to his shift.

"I always get a half chicken," he says, "and a salad."

It's no secret that Hühnerhaus has been popular with everyone from "actors and taxi drivers to police officers and punks" since it opened in 1995 (the same year Schulz came to Berlin).

It's also no wonder Schulz is a fan: there are few other places in the city where a person can eat so well for five Euro or less.

"Our quality is often imitated," the company slogan claims, "but never reached!"

I didn't have the heart to tell the cabbie Hühnerhaus was not new to me (or to many budget-conscious Berliners), but I was happy to eat his recommended half chicken (juicy and moist under buttery, rotisserie-crisp skin) and salad.

I was sorry, though, that I'd ordered a regular side salad (with iceberg lettuce, tomatoes and onions) instead of Weisskrautsalat (a slightly sweet, vinegar-based slaw that is my favorite foil for the chicken here).

Halfway through my 3.75 Euro lunch, I noticed something new: a giant chicken statue across the street from the snack bar. Above the statue, a sign in bright yellow read "Hühnerhaus 36."

"That's our new place," Huseyin, the cashier, says.

"We opened it in December. The food is the same, but we have some new things – chicken soup and wings and chicken kebabs. You should check it out."

With a split-level dining room and a ceramic fountain, the atmosphere at the brick-and-mortar Hühnerhaus, which opened this past December 8th, may be more upmarket than its sister snack bar across the street, but the prices, and the mixed crowd,are the same.

Apart from its signature rotisserie chicken, the new dishes at the Hühnerhaus restaurant might not be worthy of a pit stop: chicken soup, thickened with rice and seasoned with fresh lemon juice, is satisfying if bland, and hummus is low on tahini and in need of good olive oil.

Despite the complimentary pickled vegetables on every table and the friendly staff, my guess is that Schulz and his cab-driving colleagues will stick to the original stand across the street.

Recommended: Half chicken, 2.50 Euro Weisskrautsalat, 1.60 Euro

* At the cab driver's request, his last name has been changed.

This year's Berlinale international film festival will feature 18 international films that will compete for the Silver and Golden Bear Awards.

Many of this year's films portray the uprisings that have occurred in several countries around the world and the perspective of those people affected.

Here's a look at the 62^nd Berlinale competition:

A Moi Seule: In English, Coming Home. A French movie directed by Frederic Videau

Aujourd'hui: In English, Tey. A movie from France and Senegal directed by Alain Gomis

Bai Iu Yuan: In English, White Deer Plain. A Chinese movie directed by Wang Quan'an

Barbara: A German movie directed by Christian Petzold

Captive: A drama film from France, Philippines, Gerrmany and the United Kingdom directed by Brillante Mendoza

Cesare Deve Morire: In English, Caesar Must Die. An Italian film directed by Paolo & Vittorio Taviani

Csak A Szei: In English, Just The Wind. A film from Hungary, Germany and France directed by Bence Fliegauf

Dictado: In English, Childish Games. A Spanish movie directed by Antonio Chavarrias

En Kongelig Affaere: In English, A Royal Affair. A film from Denmark, Czech Republic, Sweden and Germany directed by Nicolaj Arcel

Gnade: In English, Mercy. A movie from Germany and Norway directed by Matthias Glasner

Jayne Mansfield's Car: A film from the United States and Russia directed by Billy Bob Thornton

Kebun Binatang: In English, Postcards From The Zoo. A drama film from Indonesia, Germany, Hong Kong and China directed by Edwin

L'Enfant D'En Haut: In English, Sister. A movie from Switzerland and France directed by Ursula Meier

Les Adieux A La Reine: In English, Farewell My Queen. A drama film from France and Spain directed by Benoit Jacquot

Meteora: A movie from Germany and Greece directed by Spiros Stathoulopoulos

Rebelle: In English, War Witch. A Canadian film directed by Kim Nguyen

Tabu: A movie from Portugal, Germany, Brazil and France directed by Miguel Gomes

Was Bleibt: In English, Home For The Weekend. A German movie directed by Hans-Christian Schmid

In total, there will be 23 movies screening in the competition program and eight international jurors.

The Berlinale International Film Festival begins Thursday, February 9^th and runs until Sunday, February the 19^th in different venues around the city.

Berlin's Ultraschall Festival for new music, this year in its 14th iteration, took on an ambitiously broad scope.

The program dedicated itself to reviving classics of the avant-garde while exploring new roads in the European music scene, opening an unresolved view into the stylistic plurality and fragmentation that defines the landscape of post-modern and contemporary developments.

American legends John Cage, this year celebrating his centenary, and Morton Feldman received slight emphasis alongside 20^th-century European essentials such as Luigi Nono and Karlheinz Stockhausen.

Jean Barraqué, one of France's most prominent champions of serialism, received a thorough revisiting, including the performance of unfinished works which have been edited posthumously.

The festival, hosted by RBB Kulturradio and Deutschlandradio Kultur from January 21-29th, gave equal weight to today's upcoming talent, from the Swiss, New York-based composer Oscar Bianchi to the Berliner Sarah Nemtsov, whose staged cycle "A Long Way Away" received its world premiere.

The boundaries between theater and concert performance have been eroded steadily since the second half of the 20th century, not always to convincing effect. Nemtsov's cycle consists of musical responses to texts by Marcel Proust, Walter Benjmain, W.G. Sebald, whose writings are infused with haunting nostalgia.

Against a minimalist yet surrealist stage design by Anna Peschke, Nemtsov's music at times succeeded at creating eerie sound worlds that crawled under your skin, from the whirring of tops under rattling teacups and the plucking of harp strings in "Laterna magica/Combray" to the clanking of suspended bedposts, bagpipes and clinking of typewriters in "Central Park/Manhattan or Landzunge/New Jersey."

 

Musicians of the Ensemble Adapter, led by Manuel Nawri, fleshed out their roles with conviction, although their deathly serious expressions often proved distracting. The unrenovated ballroom of Mitte's Sophiensäle provided an ideal setting, an immediate reminder of the disintegration alluded to by Sebald and Benjamin, although the memories captured by Nemtsov were more self-reflexive than socially encompassing.

Returning to a more traditional genre, the Quatuor Diotima gave a concert at the Radialsystem revealing the dramatic possibilities for string quartet, which carries a great deal of formal baggage for composers.

Recalling the innovation of Arnold Schönberg, who included a passage for soprano in his Second String Quartet, the German premiere of "La tenación de las sombras" by Alberto Posadas created an angst-ridden, neo-expressionist landscape in which the singer (Caroline Stein) fought to rise above a cruel outer world, the shadows of death that threaten to consume her.

Stein blended masterfully with the string's glassy tones. High-pitched squeals, cacophonic friction and metallic textures also drove the piece forth, often to painful, grating effect, providing the listener with little emotional respite.

Barraqué's "Quatuor à cordes," in its much-delayed German premiere, provided lighter dialogue, sparser textures and a distinctly lyrical character in the third movement, wielding serial patterns with an elegance that one can only associate with his French origins.

Rounding out the program were the young composers Oscar Bianchi and Miroslav Srnka, who revealed a wide palette of formal and timbral tools at their disposal. Bianchi's "Adesso" began with isolated creaks and slides before escalating into fragmented outbursts and desperate scurrying.

Srnka's "Engrams" deployed scales and unisonos that relegated classical textures and harmonies to specters of themselves as the quartet struggled to find one voice, wading through searching tremolos and sharp dissonances before culminating in a distorted, neo-baroque melody.

While string quartets are standard fare for any contemporary classical program, one wouldn't expect to come across a quartet of recorders. The Quartet New Generation (QNG), with an armory of recorders of all sizes, proves an exception to the rule, specializing in new music and even inspiring composers to conceive works for them.

At the Music Instrument Museum at Potsdamer Platz, the QNG premiered Marianthi Papalxandri-Alexandri's "atemlos," a composition designed for dismantled, prepared recorders fastened by nylon string to motor-driven rods. While the sound of the strings' friction against the rotating rods changed in pitch and volume according to the players' manipulation, the results were too subtle to appreciate from the audience.

Staking a claim to their instruments as a notable part of today's canon, the QNG premiered their arrangement of Sofia Gubaidulina's Flute Quartet, which was originally rejected by the composer's publisher but managed to win over Gubaidulina herself. Shrill, forceful blowing at moments of climax proved jarring to the flow of the piece, while chattering polyphony was handled skillfully by the players.

Mathias Spahlinger occupied about half the program with works that tended toward Cagean sound happenings such as ripping fabric, a turning bicycle wheel, unraveling duct tape and more. 1970's Paetzold recorders designed out of large wooden organ pipes were used musically to the least possible extent in "eigendynamik," while "eigenzeit" featured staccato melodies, warbling tones and required select players to play two piccolo recorders simultaneously.

Also featured were the "Clockwork Toccata" by Fulvio Caldini with pleasantly interlocking minimalist textures and Alexandra Filonenko's updated version of "Sirenen," which exploited a wide range of different recorders and their timbral possibilities, from dampened tones to exuberant cacophony, although the piece lacked structural definition.

Closing the festival, the Deutsche Symphonie Orchester Berlin performed works by Dai Fujikura, Mark Andre, Luigi Nono, and Matthias Pintscher, a leading composer of his generation who doubled as conductor for the evening at the studio auditorium of the RBB.

In Pintscher's violin concerto "Mar'eh," Hebrew for "countenance" or "a beautiful apparition," intricate textures intertwined like fine-spun silver thread. Violinist Hae-Sun Kang sung in delicate flights above the orchestra, which alternately reacted in wonder or provided subtle atmospherics.

"Hij 1," an acronym for "Hilfe, Jesu" (help, Jesus) and a Scandinavian greeting, included even more imperceptible orchestration recalling the bristly techniques of the Andre's mentor, Helmut Lachenmann. Sound emerged as if a chimera until string snaps, muted howls in the brass and persistent "col legno" attacks evoked unearthly suffering.

Fukijara's "Tocar y luchar," originally commissioned for the Venezuelan "El Sistema" youth orchestra, built slowly into waves of neo-Romantic harmonies and melodic fragmentation that clattered and twittered until subsiding into shivering strings. Despite colorful and animated instrumentation, it was difficult to find a dramatic arc.

Such concerns dissipated in the final piece, Nono's "No hay caminos, hay que caminar," which submerges the listener in auditory extremes that are not meant to be resolved: there is no path, the title says, only the journey itself. With the orchestra dispersed into seven groups, the music unfolded in a sloth-like process, the silences weighing as heavily in all corners of the auditorium as the screeching strings and flickering percussion.

The journey remained open as listeners filed out of the hall, perhaps carrying the vestiges of Nono's leftist, anti-western ideology onto the cold streets of Berlin.

Döner kebab may have surpassed sausage as Germany's favorite fast food, but the famous sandwich, invented by Mahmut Aygun at a Turkish snack bar in West Berlin in 1971, is nowhere to be found at Adana Grill Haus.

Founded 26 years ago a few blocks from the epicenter of Berlin's "Little Istanbul" neighborhood in Kreuzberg, the 40-seat restaurant claims to be the first Turkish grill of its kind in the city: every piece of beef and lamb is butchered in-house and grilled to order in the open kitchen.

"This is not a snack bar," Adana Grill Haus owner Cevat Akpolat said.

"This is a Turkish culture restaurant."

Fifty years after Turkish guest workers first came to Germany to help rebuild the country after World War II, assimilation is still a hot topic, especially in Kreuzberg where visitors are likely to notice as many head scarves as mohawks.

Like a handful of restaurants in the neighborhood that feature dishes from different regions of Turkey, Adana Grill Haus draws multiple generations of homesick immigrants and increasing numbers of food-loving Germans, suggesting to some that integration has begun here at last - at least when it comes to food.

The restaurant specializes in dishes from Adana, a city of 1.6 million people in south-central Turkey famous for its minced meat kebabs with red pepper.

Adana Grill Haus' version of its namesake kebab is flavorful but dry, and it is their lamb chops (kuzu pirzola, 13 Euro) that draw Turkish celebrities, from director Fatih Akin to Green Party politician Özcan Mutlu.

Juicy, pink, and rimmed with fat, kuzu pirzola are perfect with a side of acili ezme (a-SILL-ee EZ-may, tomato relish with olive oil and spicy red chilies, 4 Euro) and house-made yogurt (3.50 Euro) or ayran (the salted yogurt beverage popular throughout the Balkans).

German actor Daniel Brühl and boxer Marko Huck ("He eats four portions of ribs, no bread and a liter of water," Mr. Akpolat said.) are regulars here, too.

But their photos have not made their way from Mr. Akpolat's smart phone to the restaurant's walls; they might clash with the life-sized statue of a ram atop the grill and the evil eye above the storage room door or put off the taxi drivers who also consider Adana Grill Haus to be their place.

Layne Mosler is a writer who ate and danced tango in Buenos Aires for nearly four years before moving to New York City to drive a taxi. She's currently living and eating in Berlin and writing Driving Hungry, a book based on her Taxi Gourmet blog that's scheduled for publication by Vintage (Random House) in 2014.

If you're looking for something a little unusual this winter weekend, Berlin's country yodeling queen, Doreen Kutzke, will be hosting a 4-hour yodeling workshop this Saturday, January 28th at Jodelschule Kreuzberg.

Yodeling involves singing an extended note which rapidly and repeatedly changes in pitch from the chest voice to the head voice making a high-low-high-low sound.

This technique has been used in Alpine folk music, in Persian Tahrir, a yodeling technique in classical music, as well as in contemporary styles.

To learn more about yodeling, check out the book Yodel-Ay-Ee-Oooo: The Secret History of Yodeling Around The World, by Bart Plantenga, which explores the origins and development of yodeling in such far-ranging places as Africa, Asia, Scandinavia, Australia, and the USA with it's tradition of hillbilly/country yodeling.

The workshop runs from 3:00 to 7:00 Saturday evening.

Free WiFi may soon be available to all and sundry on the streets of Berlin if the city government's plans are realized.

But before you run out into the street waving your mobile device around in a gratuitous display of unadulterated glee (Wooh! Free stuff!), bear in mind that the Berlin Senate has put the project on hold before.

The free WiFi scheme has been on the agenda since 2007 but fell apart after a drawn out debate in the Senate.

Senators raised a number of concerns, including the possibility of illegal file sharing and the lack of infrastructure required for the project.

The new CDU/SPD state government has resurrected the plan for free WiFi within the confines of the Berliner Ringbahn as part of larger policy to support the digitization of the city.

Tourists and residents will be able to access free internet as part of the scheme, which will be paid for through advertisements, marketing strategies and billable offers.

Berlin mayor Klaus Wowereit emphasized the importance of IT policy in the CDU/SPD coalition agreement, with the coalition appointing SPD IT policy expert Björn Böhning to the newly established ministerial post for IT policy.

While Berlin has already become a European center for start-ups and tech firms, Böhning wants to build a sustainable base to ensure the city remains attractive. The coalition is currently working on the implementation of the region's open data initiative and Böhning says net neutrality will be a major policy objective.

The sudden interest in net policy represents a major turn around for the Senate. For Berlin's previous governments, the need for more infrastructure and policy support in this area hasn't been a priority.

But the success of the Pirate Party in the recent municipal elections has helped to push issues such as broadband expansion, net neutrality, and open data onto the agenda. The Pirates have also volunteered their expertise to help with the implementation of the WiFi scheme, which the party describes as essential.

While cities such as London have been pouring millions into attracting IT entrepreneurs and major tech firms, Berlin's previous policy, or lack-thereof, hasn't done much to put off would-be Mark Zuckerbergs from swarming to the new Teutonic tech mecca.

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past two years, you should have noticed Berlin's magnetic draw for digital start-ups.

The now well-worn phrase "poor but sexy" was how Berlin's mayor Klaus Wowereit once described the city, but Silicon Allee instead of Silicon Valley seems to be the new mantra.

Google tells me that there are approximately 150 shisha bars in Berlin.

However, considering my favorite one isn't listed or on the map, I have to assume that there's a lot more. In fact, the wandering pedestrian can't spend five minutes in the heart of Turkish Neükolln without smelling one.... or two or three.

For those not familiar with the practice, shisha, hookah, or Wasserpfeife (water pipe), is used to smoke flavored tobacco.

A decorated glass vase is filled with water, a pipe or two come out the middle (from which one inhales), and a ceramic bowl placed on top is stuffed with tobacco. Fiery coals on the bowl ignite the tasty experience.

It's generally accepted, although commonly debated, that shisha originates from India during the reign of Mughal emperor Akbar (1542-1605 A.D.). After tobacco was introduced to India by Europeans, smoking took off amongst the higher classes.

Physician Hakim Abul Fath became concerned with the growing trend, and, so they say, invented the hookah, touting that tobacco smoke which passed through a water filter was healthier.

Of course it's important to say this is not true. Studies have shown that smoking shisha is quite unhealthy.

But Shisha's popularity grew and spread throughout the Middle East before being imported to just about everywhere.

Today, much like it was hundreds of years ago, smoking shisha is a social event. Take a couple puffs of the pipe and pass it on to the next person. Nowadays, small plastic mouthpieces are given out to individual smokers so as to prevent the spread of germs.

Unlike many of the shisha hangouts in Berlin, Sehraya, Berlin's biggest shisha lounge is Egyptian, not Turkish, and the owners are obviously very proud of its heritage. It opened in Berlin six years ago, and according to its staff, it's quite similar to shisha spots that one would find in Egypt.

The decorations and atmosphere of Sehraya are exotic and enchanting. The front door is guarded by a shiny gold statue of a pharaoh, and, once inside, visitors cross over a small bridge surrounded on either side by Egyptian paintings, statues, and ornamental water pipes.

Sehraya, in Egyptian, means "comfortable evening with a few friends" and the plush embroidered couch seating spread out over the two story indoor courtyard and carved wooden room separators to section off groups certainly promotes such an expression.

The menu boasts over 40 different types of shisha tobacco, from banana to cappuccino to bubblegum. Alcohol is not served. Instead, the menu bursts with an array of teas, shakes, and traditional homemade food such as besara (pureed beans with garlic and onions), kushari (a famous Egyptian dish consisting of rice, lentils and noodles), and baskets and baskets of pita bread.

With such a selection and a cozy ambiance, it's hard to pull oneself up off the couch and leave. That is until later on in the night when the air gets too thick to see, the music turned up too loud to hear normal conversation, and the inevitable smoke induced headache sets in.

But until that happens, it's pure magic.

Sehraya is located near U-Bahnhof Mehringdamm.

After four and a half years in Shanghai, Nora von Nordenskjöld, a striking, 30-something blond with handsome features and ostentatiously framed glasses, was through.

"I swore up and down that I would never come back to Germany. I promised myself it wouldn't happen, but now here I am. Compared to Shanghai, Berlin's slow pace feels like I've been dropped into a gel bubble," von Nordenskjöld says.

"Imagine that you've boarded a seat on a roller coaster; the operator hits the 'on' button, refusing to turn it off, let alone slow it down, despite your pleas. This? This is what it's like living in Shanghai, and it's amazing."

Von Nordenskjöld is Munich-born, Hamburg-raised and the founding force behind NOVONO, a two year-old design firm with offices a stone's throw from the hype of Torstraße in Berlin's Mitte district.

Conversationally, she is measured and studious, while a bubbly, almost girl-like, enthusiasm suffuses her voice.

"NOVONO is not a firm, not a studio," she says. "What do those words even mean? We are a creative practice."

With a laugh, she shrugs off the thought to explain that the true life force behind architecture, whether a structure or its interior design, is not that which one sees, but what one feels.

"I am not creating a space but rather evoking an emotion. One by one, people enter a room and experience a deeply personal, internal response to a curated environment. As people congregate in a location, there is an accumulation of emotional, social and intellectual feeling. This is the so-called energy of a room, and it shapes the way that people come together and interact with one another."

After studying interior architecture at the Academy of Fine Arts in Maastricht and Istituto Eu­ropeo di Design in Milan, von Nordenskjöld lived and worked abroad first in Mexico City before relocating to China, where she quickly became the Head of Interiors at Kokai Studios, an Italian-owned architectural firm in Shanghai.

With Kokai, she was promoted to partner and racked up international awards for Huai Hai Lu, Lounge 18 and TBWA Asia.

After nearly half a decade, however, the daily rigors of residing in the world's largest metropolis began to wear on von Nordenskjöld.

"Shanghai aged me by 10 years," she laughs, "and the only places I could imagine relocating were Paris or Istanbul. I do love those cities, but the cost of living there, let alone opening my own company, were untenable."

And thus she packed her bags and beelined to Berlin in 2009.

Here, in partnership with Israeli-born Itamar Zechoval, she first helped create Dandy of the Grotesque, a bespoke men's shop that caters to clientele such as dark rocker Marilyn Manson. From this juncture, NOVONO summarily exploded into its own, scoring a series, then a flurry, of projects.

"I can and often do choose to say no," von Nordenskjöld says. "I only agree to do interesting projects. Especially if they involve champagne. There is nothing better," she says, referencing her work with luxury French vinter Veuve Cliquot, for whom she designed its pop-up Rolling Diner in Berlin and is currently creating a similar event in Munich.

Around half of von Nordenskjöld's projects are traditional interior architecture—one of her current clients is Berlin's Jewish Museum, for whom she is redesigning its Cafe Schmus—and the other half are temporary installations.

NOVONO, for instance, has created environments for Pret-a-Diner, an upscale dining experience, something of a restaurant installation, that occurs in locations throughout Europe.

"After leaving Kokai Studios, Pret-a-Diner was my first big client under the rubric of NOVONO. This was a fully uncharted experience for me. As a German, I have always loved and believed in technical precision, but this other side of design—the impromptu, off-the-cuff creation of a space that isn't intended to endure—was a revelation for me," von Nordenskjöld says. "It taught me that improvisation can yield better results."

It is this blend of slow, laborious long-term projects alongside the rapid-fire, controlled chaos of one-off assignments that feed von Nordenskjöld's process.

"It sounds silly to say this aloud, but it's as if my ideas are birthed through me from a source. I close my eyes, and an idea, something that wasn't alive only moments before, exists. It's like miracles are coming out of my hands," von Nordenskjöld says.

Georges Bizet's "Les Pêcheurs de Perles" is a musical gem that has often been criticized for an uninteresting libretto and dramaturgical weaknesses.

The plot revolves around a classic love triangle, although transported to ancient Ceylon. Instrumental passages evoke what was then the exotic world of the East with cymbals, harps, and dreamy string melodies.

The Deutsche Oper, for its "premiere production" of the opera on December 19th, presented a concert performance that allowed the company to maintain its high standard for leading soloists.

The celebrated tenor Joseph Calleja and the Italian diva Patricia Ciofi were joined with the superb baritone Etienne Dupuis—hopefully soon to be a more recognized name—and the commanding house ensemble bass Ante Jerkunica.

While Bizet's colorful score is packed with enough dramatic tension and musical imagination to transport the listener, the oratorio-style presentation proved frustrating at climactic moments, such as when the island leader Zurga (Dupuis) tells the lovers Nadir (Calleja) and Leila (Ciofi) that he has set the fishermens' village on fire so that they can flee at the end of the opera.

The singer's entrances with scores under their arms during confrontational and heated moments often seemed to undermine the action. Yet in the throes of arias and duets, the performers' fine delivery made a strong case for allowing the music to speak for itself.

As the love struck Nadir, Calleja's visceral, ringing tenor proved itself perfectly suited to French Romantic repertoire. Although the voice also has a slight caprino (little goat) vibrato, it hardly interfered with his expressive lines and the ease with which he carried above the orchestra. He delivered the aria "Je crois entendre encore," in which he longs for Leila, with poignancy and skilled dynamic shading.

Dupuis was an equally magnetic presence. He was able to blend his smooth baritone well with Calleja in "Au fond du temple Saint," one of the greatest male duos in the history of opera. The number deservedly won a long applause and loud bravos. Dupuis also gave a tender, introspective account of his Act Three aria "L'orages'estcalmé" lamenting his decision to punish Nadir.

Ciofi, one of today's best lyric coloraturas, brought a velvety timbre and emotional resonance to the role of the female heroine, although her voice took some time to bloom. She also occasionally resorted to hand gestures that recalled a master class rather than a live performance.

Nevertheless, her cavatina "Commeautrefois" brought forth luscious, floating pianissimi that are rare onstage today, and the fine musicianship in her duet with Calleja when the lovers meet for the first time ("Leila! Dieu puissant") distracted from any need for sets and costumes.

Jerkunica rounded out the ensemble nicely as the priest Nourabad, with a menacing bass and sensitive musicianship. The chorus of the Deutsche Oper dispatched its role with aplomb, yet its tone has been more even on other occasions and its French diction could have been more clear.

The orchestra, sitting onstage behind the singers, provided dutiful accompaniment under the young Spanish conductor Guillermo Garcia Calvo, although the brass section could have benefited from a taming hand and phrasing could have been more supple.

The ensemble drowned out Dupuis and Ciofi on a couple of occasions; such are the drawbacks of moving an opera orchestra out of the pit.

So we're heading into the final days of Christmas shopping and all you procrastinators are finally getting off the couch to go buy something.

Should your gift of choice be an article of clothing from the Swedish retailer H&M, you should have no trouble finding one in Berlin.

There are 28 of them.

Maybe you don't live in the capital? No problem. Germany is home to 376 H&M stores.

No, you did not misread that. It is 376 – the largest number of H&M stores in any country. And the company may open more.

More H&M's? Already there are two within a mile on the Schlosstrasse in Steglitz. On Kurfürstendamm, it seems as if every other store is an H&M.

Germany dominates in a lot of economic sectors – cars, machine tools, insurance – but these sectors have nothing on the dominance of H&M in the German market, especially when compared to the United States.

Berlin has nearly three times the number of H&Ms as New York City, and NYC has five million more people than the German capital.

There are 10 H&M's in New York compared to Berlin's 28. If New York were to have the same H&M concentration as Berlin, it would have to have nearly 70 H&M stores.

It's almost as bad on the national level.

There are nearly 82 million people who live in Germany and about 310 million who live in the United States. But the U.S. has only 236 H&M stores.

If the U.S. had Germany's concentration of H&M's, it would be home to 1,421 of them.

I'm trying to picture the United States with more than 1,400 H&M's. Maybe that's why there aren't more than 1,400 H&M's in the U.S.

But that's the concentration you have in Germany.

OK. I know. The obvious reason is that H&M has been in Germany a lot longer (two decades to be exact) than it has been in the U.S. I lived in Portland, Oregon for a long time and well remember the opening of its first H&M. it was a year ago, and it felt as if we were finally on the fashion map.

But still. The differences are pretty dramatic. So I asked the company about this. I even asked in three places: its press offices in Germany, at the headquarters in Sweden and in New York.

I guess New York was too busy to answer...maybe they are trying to catch up with H&M in Berlin?

But Germany and Sweden produced essentially the same corporate response.

"H&M has been present in the German market since 1980, and we opened our first store in US in 2000," an email sent from HQ said.

"We see potential for new stores in both markets, and during 2012 we will also launch Mail Order and Shop Online for the US market. However, we refrain from doing comparisons between markets or stores, or number of stores, sales for specific stores or talk about our expansion, future plans and strategy. Thus, we are unable to assist you with your request at this time."

I guess that's corporateeze for bug off.

The German office had a bit more information, saying H&M has more than 2,400 stores in 41 markets. It has a 10 to 15 percent growth goal per year and plans to expand in both new and existing markets with a "focus on quality, sustainability and continued high profitability." The biggest factors when opening a new store are the "client base and the optimal location and business climate."

I think I'll do my last minute shopping at Zara's.

On a side note, the idea for this story came from my daughter Pauline. I would never have noticed something like the concentration of H&M's in Berlin, as she did. I am fashion challenged, to say the least. Actually if there were a fashion intensive care, I'd be on life support. But hey – living in Oregon doesn't teach you about fashion. It's a place where the biggest style decision of the day is which color Gore-tex to wear. Thanks Pauline.

Any feminist reading of "Tannhäuser" faces its share of challenges.

In Wagner's libretto, the title character flees the sensuous realm of the goddess Venus to seek worldly purpose, only to find redemption in the death of a pious virgin and, as per a revised 1847 version of the opera, the end of his own life.

Kirsten Harms' 2008 production, which was revived last season to fete the end of her tenure as Intendant of the Deutsche Oper and took the stage again this month, boldly challenges the subjugation of the feminine principle.

In her interpretation, Venus and the morally upright Elisabeth represent different facets of the same persona, and—whether in spirit or flesh—she survives.

As is the case for so many philosophical or pseudo-psychoanalytical stage concepts, the production, as seen on December 18, fails to materialize convincingly.

In the final scene, Elizabeth (Petra Maria Schnitzer) suddenly springs back to life after being covered with a sheet, a rather abrupt and unimaginative metamorphosis.

While other gestures and blocking by Harms bring the opera's dramatic tension into full relief, sets and costumes by Bernd Damovsky provide a bleak, monochromatic framework for the symbolic juxtaposition of man's laws with the eternal feminine.

At the climax of the overture, a dummy in medieval armor descends from descending stage lights and dangles impotently as curvy, half-naked sirens emerge from beneath the stage and sway awkwardly in a sea of bubbles. Venus (also performed by Schnitzer) appears on a grey slab that could easily be a tombstone, leaving little wonder that Tannhäuser (Peter Seiffert, Schnitzer's real-life husband) has grown bored of her Eros-filled world.

The valley of the mortal Wartburg where the pilgrim arrives is, on the other hand, unexpectedly grim: bat-like, alien creatures hover over a searching oboe solo before the male chorus emerges in red light and smoke.

The picture grows more appealing for the song contest, featuring the chorus in colorful, pseudo-medieval costumes, although the cartoonish helmets raised up in triumph are more hackneyed than tongue-in-cheek.

Harms did not hold back a sense of irony, having the men draw their swords with hyperbolic fervor when Tannhäuser offends the crowd with his praise of Venus.

The rows of armored men hanging above the stage during the second and third acts, although intended to further emphasize the Mars-like nature of man's world, only drove home the kitsch factor. Equally frustrating were the rows of hospital beds in the final scenes.

If the evening had not been such a success musically, it would be easy to write off the production as a conceptually compelling but aesthetic failure. Yet Seiffert, as he proved in last season's controversial "Tristan und Isolde," is able to tirelessly steer a Wagner opera through the most jarring gimmicks.

The German tenor could not be more ideal for this repertoire, with a booming voice that is able to encompass the full gamut of emotions in the complex characters he portrays. His Tannhäuser was headstrong yet vulnerable, generous but musically indomitable.

As his female counterpart, Schnitzer's expressive voice started off a bit steely und underpowered but warmed up by the second and third acts. Although her singing retained a metallic quality, it became rounder and full-bodied in the final scenes, easily holding its own alongside Seiffert.

Markus Brück sung the role of Wolfram von Eschenbach with appealing tone, although he tired somewhat as the evening unfolded. As Walter von der Vogelweider, Clemens Bieber brought an appropriately mature bass to the stage, grounding the knights and their flimsy armor with his Teutonic moralism.

The chorus of the Deutsche Oper was in top form, indulging in Wagner's church music harmonies with powerful, even tone.

The orchestra executed the score in bold phrases that soared into mighty architecture under Music Director Donald Runnicles. While the lines could have more flexible and nuanced in dynamic shading, the music's robust, charging quality was at times electrifying.

As Elisabeth gazed at the audience beneath a mane of blonde hair in the final scene, one couldn't help but admire the presence Harms established for herself as the chic but controversial intendant of West Berlin's opera house, from the Joop-designed ads that still line the subways to her own productions that, while problematic, have stamped the Deutsche Oper with a fresh sensibility.

It's hard to say what's so amazing about Mongolia- truly a toss up between the people and the landscape.

The scenery is wide open and breathtaking. It ranges from rolling valleys to the choppy Gobi desert. The cities can be crumbling Soviet relics or a simple assemblage of yurts (a traditional Mongolian tent) surrounding ancient monasteries.

The people are famous for their hospitality and are outrageously friendly. When I left Mongolia in May, I cried. I'd met the kindest people, and I didn't want to leave them. But, of course, they have to be hospitable to one another; Mongolia is the 19th largest in the world and the most sparsely populated.

Many of its citizens are still herders and mostly nomadic. While traveling through the largely unpopulated countryside, herders are forced to spend the night in a stranger's tent so as not to endure the oftentimes harsh weather conditions.

Until January 6th, Berlin is presented with a rare opportunity to experience a little bit of Mongolia, and in the oddest place... Globetrotter, the outdoor adventure/clothing store.

Although, Globtrotter is a fitting choice; Mongolia is an outdoorsy person's paradise. They offer horseback riding, camel riding, hiking, and trekking, just to name a few.

So amongst the wind-proof jackets, thermal toques, and shiny climbing gear, Globetrotter, with help from the International Intellectual Museum in Ulaanbaatar, has set up a yurt.

The yurt is furnished with traditional Mongolian furniture, as well as toys, clothing, jewellery, puzzles, children's toys, paintings, and CD's. To my surprise, the prices were actually equal to or less than they were in Mongolia.

My favorite purchase? Ankle bones. Inside a little woven purse are four small ankle bones (normally from sheep or goat). Roll the ankle bones on the table, and each combination of how they roll tells a fortune.

Maybe it sounds a little unappetizing, and admittedly at first I was reluctant to touch them, but this game is huge in Mongolia. I was overjoyed to find them here in Berlin and, perhaps a little too eagerly, bought my own set.

It brought back amazing memories of a cold and snowy night in a yurt in the middle of Mongolia, passing the time rolling ankle bones, playing various games, drinking Chinggis Khan Vodka, and trying to decipher which side of the ankle bone was which.

On the evening of December 20th, for even more of the Mongolian experience, the yurt and Globetrotter are hosting an evening with Sarah Fischer, a travel writer, photographer, and a German with Mongolian background. She'll be giving a presentation (in German) about Mongolia and her experiences, and the evening will be accompanied by live music.

The event starts at 20:00. Globetrotter is located at U + S Bahn Rathaus Steglitz.

Did you wake up on December 6th and wonder why bars of chocolate smooshed between your toes as you tried to put on your boots to go to work?

Does the image of the German Christkind confuse you and make you wonder why Jesus is bringing you presents on his birthday?

For those new to Germany and German traditions, Christmas in Berlin and all around the country can be as confusing as it is exciting.

Those of us who have grown up writing letters to Santa Claus, straining to hear the sound of his reindeer on the rooftops on Christmas Eve, leaving out a plate of cookies, and hanging stockings by the chimney, may find Christmas in Germany, at first glance, to be a little... well... disappointing.

Why? Because in many German households, Santa isn't the one who comes to visit.

Instead, Germany celebrates Christmas not with a one gift giver and general joy-bringer, but with two: St. Nikolaus and the Christkind, or Christ child.

The story of St. Nikolaus dates back to the third century A.D. in Southern Turkey. Nikolaus is said to have been the son of wealthy parents who died in an epidemic. After their deaths, he dedicated his life to the church, became Bishop of Myra, and used all his money to secretly help the poor.

He would throw coins in open windows, put gold in shoes, and when no other method was available, throw treats down the chimney. Today, many people continue the tradition of St. Nikolaus by leaving shoes outside the door on the eve of December 6th (commemorating the day Nikolaus died), and eagerly anticipating the next morning when their boots overflow with chocolate and small treats.

The Christkind is, however, a little more confusing. The day of St. Nikolaus was celebrated throughout Germany for centuries, but with the Reformation led by Martin Luther (1483-1546), the figure of St. Nikolaus was suddenly frowned upon.

Luther did not want his followers to idolize a Catholic saint, but at the same time recognized the goodness that accompanied the holiday. He moved the traditional day of gift-giving to December 24th and replaced St. Nikolaus with the Christkind, a child-like image of the baby Jesus.

However, recent incarnations of the Christkind represent the figure not as a newborn boy, but instead as a young girl with golden curls.

The Christkind Market in Nuremberg, which elects a teenage girl from the city to play the Christkind, describes the figure "not so much an embodiment of the Christ child in the manger, but a grown-up figure which also took on some traits of the Angel of the Annunciation and some elements of the Virgin Mary."

The Christkind of Nuremburg, decorated in a large golden crown and golden robes, is responsible for officially opening the Christmas Market, hosting various "fairy-tale hours," conversing with the press, visiting the homes of the young, elderly and disabled, and bringing Christmas presents to children in the hospital.

In German homes, the Christkind traditionally brings presents to children on Christmas Eve. The departure is announced with the ringing of a small bell, followed by the stampeding feet of children as they rush to see what presents were left for them.

Despite Germany's wealth of traditions, the magic of North America's Santa Claus has started to creep into German culture over the last few years despite arguments that Santa Claus represents nothing but rampant consumerism, and to some, Coca Cola.

In fact, Santa Claus, the Christkind, and St. Nikolaus are sometimes all rolled up into one fun-loving Christmas package. A Spiegel article from last year states that children in Germany "have been sending letters to Santa Claus for decades," but also acknowledges that many of these letters are for the Christkind.

So take your pick. Celebrate the season with St. Nikolaus, the Christkind, Santa Claus, or all three. However you enjoy the holiday season, make it a great one.

To celebrate this holiday season, how about some world class bagpipe playing with Balkan flair?

Peter Bonev, one of Bulgaria's best bagpipe players, is coming to Berlin to give a concert this Thursday at 9:00 at Haus der Sinne in Prenzlauer Berg. This a rare opportunity to see him.

Bonev was the leader of the folk ensemble in Stara Zagora, the sixth largest city in Bulgaria.

Stara Zagora is known as a city of straight streets, linden trees, and poets.

Bonev's leadership helped the ensemble gain international acclaim. He chose, however, to leave the formal concert halls and bring his music to the streets where he has direct contact with his audience.

During the past 15 years, Bonev has brought authentic Bulgarian folk music to the streets of Sofia, Rome, Paris, Oslo, Florence, Milan, London, Vienna, and Delhi.

Haus der Sinne is located on Ystader Str. 10, 10437 Berlin.

Berlin's newly appointed Interior Minister called for a ban on the right-wing populist NPD party at a meeting of Germany's interior ministers in Wiesbaden.

Minister Frank Henkel (CDU) said a clear signal must be sent to what he called right-wing extremists.

"I believe the interior ministers will intensify the fight against right-wing extremists and agree on a common strategy moving forward," Henkel said on the first day of the three-day conference, which started Wednesday.

Calls for an end to the NPD (Nationaldemokratische Partei Deutschlands) have been growing since the arrest of ex-party functionary, Ralf Wohlleben, in connection with a series of racially motivated murders.

Wohlleben is suspected of having aided Beate Zschäpe, Uwe Böhnhardt and Uwe Mundlos, who made up the far-right Zwickau cell accused of committing at least ten murders, mostly of immigrants, between 2000 and 2007.

Berlin's newly formed CDU/SPD cross-party government also announced a legally binding ban on the NPD as one of its main aims during the presentation of its coalition agreement last week. If the courts approve the measure, the NPD's headquarters in the Berlin district of Köpenick would have to be dissolved. The party would also lose its mandates on the Lichtenberg, Marzahn-Hellersdorf and Treptow-Köpenick district councils.

Berlin Mayor, Klaus Wowereit (SPD), told party members on Sunday that a "quick ban" on the NPD is necessary. The state must guarantee protection for immigrants and all of its citizens, he said.

Not everyone thinks an outright ban on the NPD is the right move. Oliver Igel, the SPD Mayor of Treptow Köpenick (an NPD stronghold), told Die Tageszeitung that the problem of right-wing extremism will not disappear with the NPD. It's much more important for society to engage in open debate, he says.

A previous attempt to dissolve the NPD was rejected by the German Constitutional Court in 2003 because of the presence of police informants in top NPD positions. The court ruled that the party could not be prohibited as its policies may have been partly shaped by law enforcement agencies.

The NPD failed to win seats on the Berlin Senate in September's elections, but gained seats in three district parliaments. It also came under fire during the election campaign for what were described as xenophobic campaign posters.