Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

perceptions heightened, his rational capabilities exhausted, over-tired after two nights of this
strenuous activity. He found this dream state not unpleasant, and his Russian partner was
leading him with determination. He did not have to think. She danced like a professional. A
dance teacher? A ballerina from the opera?
Ever since he had learned her name was Nina, she had warmed up and pressed closer.
In a dark corner she kissed him. Even that was pleasurable, for the first time. But when she
began whispering into his ear, "Rodnoi milogo kak ty zhazhdu," he felt she was getting
obsessive and disengaged himself. "Izmennik," she hissed at him, when he left her.
"Yes, ‘traitor!’" Konrad laughed. "It isn’t easy to learn to cope with the West!"
He sailed off with a tall wallflower, who had stood forlorn by the side and reminded him
of his friend in Berlin who danced so well. She was from Berlin all right, but she was as
awkward as a stick and a poor dancer.
Konrad got himself a large cognac from the bar and nursing it watched the whirling
crowd. This was the dionysische Fest that Nietzsche talked about! The revelers did not shout
"Yakkhos, Yakkhos!" like in Athens, but they were equally possessed by the God as then. How
different Munich was from Berlin, how much closer to the land of the Greeks! Such a
chaotically extroverted scene would be unthinkable in the stiff Protestant North.
The orchestra stopped. The lights dimmed. A Renaissance herald announced the arrival
of the carnival delegations from around the world: "His Highness, the Doge of Venice, and the
delegation from the City on the Lagoon."
In true operatic style a splendidly decorated barga was rowed on stage, greeted by a
chorus of local dignitaries, singing some Verdi Konrad did not recognize. In their midst the
mayor in tails and towering behind him a mighty Bavaria, the gigantic, secular protectress of
Munich.
The Doge, all in gold, disembarked, waving to the audience. He embraced the mayor.
Bavaria rattled her weapons. The six figures of the Commedia dell’Arte in their bird’s masks
scurried from the boat. They danced around the greeting ceremony. The audience applauded.
Bavaria pushed herself into the foreground and sang a duet with the Doge which was,
Konrad thought, taken from Wagner’s Walküre. The Marriage of North and South, Figaro and
Brunhilde. Two huge tankards of beer were brought which the Bavarian Walküre and the Doge
emptied to universal cheer. Lots of waving of blue and white checkered Bavarian and Venetian
Lion flags.
The orchestra changed to a South American rhythm. The Commedia dell’Arte masks
danced from the stage into the audience.
The Herald blew his trumpet: "The King and Queen of Brazil."
A fabulously built black couple descended from the rafters on ropes followed by a black
King and Queen on a flying trapeze. They were barely covered by exotic, tropical flowers and
faux bananas. The music exploded into a wild dance and the four performed an elaborate
Ballet Brazilienne.
The mayor kissed the hand of the Queen, while the black King wooed Bavaria with a
Caribbean love song: "Do, doo, da, huu, dada, doo…" The orchestra fell silent.
Like a panther Black Orpheus danced around his victim and first took her shield away,
then her spear.
"Doo doo, Love, da, haa, do, do…"
He knelt, removed her knee and leg guards, the pointed breast plates, opened her
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