Remodeling in my mind...

I love my shower here in Leipzig. (If you'd like to read about my hotel, click here.) It's one of those big round ones that hangs directly above my head and gently rains the warm water down on me in a luxurious deluge. It's heaven, and I can't help but emit sighs of pleasure every time I get in there and re-experince the glory of that showerhead. I'm serious, I actually sigh. Why do I not have one of those in my bathroom in Philadelphia?? How expensive can they be? It's a plastic disc with holes punched in it!

It's much better than the shower I dealt with earlier this week in Berlin; that was a more typical European construction, with the vertically adjustable shower bar towards one end of the long wall of the tub. There was no shower curtain; just a fixed plexiglass shield that closed off about one third of the tub at the same end as the shower head. I've dealt with this kind of shower before, but I was out of practice. During my first shower, I got water ALL OVER the bathroom. I managed to douse the towels that were hanging on a rack on the other side of the bathroom, and also somehow knock over the fake plants that perched on the shelf above the sink. The tub mat was soaked to such a degree that I had to wring it out. I blame my clumsy showering technique on my jet-lag. I did much better on day two.

Still, I shouldn't complain. At least I had a tub in Berlin. When I was living in Paris, my little studio apartment on rue de la Roquette was charming, except that there was just a corner shower, with a floor that was about as big as the platter my mother serves the Thanksgiving turkey on. When I'd lift my arms to wash my hair, I'd often bang my elbows against the plastic doors. Good times.

Tubs are important, I find. I'm not a big bather, but it's nice to have the option; otherwise, I feel a little cheated. When I was asked to sing for a benefit concert in the English countryside, I was lodged at a beautiful manse owned by the the family who makes Dyson vacuum cleaners. I will never forget that tub. Hammered copper, HUGE, and so deep that the water came up to my chin as I was sitting normally. Bliss! There was no shower, though, so I'm sure I would have gotten sick of that, eventually.

OOOH! Maybe I could get a copper bathtub with a rain dome showerhead when I do my remodel! That might be damaging to my career, because I'd never want to leave my house...

Maybe it's best to keep it simple at home.

On a separate note:



I'm still trying to figure out why these strange cat-like scupltures are scattered all over Leipzig. I'll do some research and get back to you on it.