The 64th thing I love about living in Berlin…

Do you see what I hear?

An answer to my Tuesday morning musical mystery!

I’ll save you the suspense right now and say that none — that’s right, not a single one — of my theories was anywhere close to  correct. I’ll save you even more suspense by telling you that I found the answer to my question as soon as I stepped out of our courtyard gate the following Tuesday morning. It turns out I didn’t need to walk down the block to investigate after all!

While a small part of me was disappointed that the quest I’d been anticipating all week was over mere seconds after it began, the rest of me was at first gobsmacked (how obvious!) and then delighted by the truth I at last found.

Have you guessed what I was unable to figure out on my own, even after posts like this?

And the trumpet turns out to be a trio…

I know, right? The answer was so obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn’t already guessed it.

(I’ve since learned from Susanne, the lovely director of our apartment building, that this trio walks near our corner most Tuesday mornings. She very much enjoys their serenades, too.)

As soon as I realized these three wandering musicians were the source of the music I’d long been hearing, I followed them from our building down the block, trying to snap a photo as I hurried to get closer.

After I took this picture, they turned to play in front of another building, giving me a chance to catch up and finally hear the additional sounds of the accordion and tambourine I’d missed by only listening from inside.

We were the only people on that stretch of street at that moment and they turned to play for me as I approached. After asking permission, I took this picture of them, grinning so widely at finally having my answer that it was hard to keep the musicians centered.

My grin soon evaporated as I realized I had no way to tip them, and boy, did I ever want to tip them after all the fun they’d unknowingly given me the past few weeks.

Not expecting to need my wallet on what I had figured would be only a short journey, I’d left it –and all my money, of course — at home. I gave my excuses to the musicians for arriving empty-handed and even turned over the the thin case I carry my phone in to show I had no money to reward their excellent playing

Would it surprise you to learn the mystery was not yet over? Because of course, it wasn’t. As I kept hold of my phone in one hand and turned the case upside-down with my other as an apologetic gesture, the lovely (and very unexpected) sound of coins clinking onto the sidewalk created an unexpected encore to their performance.

All was right in the world as I picked the three Euro coins up off the ground and put them in the youngest man’s outstretched red paper cup. The minstrels accepted my tip with a bow then continued on down the street as I stood there a few moments longer, smiling at the wonder of it all.

I haven’t heard them since that morning — a time change for my German classes means I’m out of the apartment before they make their rounds. But now that I know the secret to that mysterious Tuesday morning music, even just thinking about those almost-otherworldly trumpet tones drifting along on the wind is enough to make me smile again as I tap my foot in time.