I would like to jump ahead in my story to the present. As I write this, I am looking over The Oslo Fjord. Oslo, Norway boasts hills and forests that surround its island freckled fjord pristinely. I've seen ten countries and eleven cities up to this point. Having always visited cities, i'm presented with an opportunity to get out of concrete and onto some dirt. Oslo has less than 600,000 people so by far it's the smallest city i'll visit. I won't roam the city as I have been in others, there's far too many islands and forest trails up hills I would rather see. I'm not from a city. European habitations have been a unique exposure compared to my rearing. I'm in a country with enough forests around that I could loosely compare (not by any means saying Missouri and Norway are comparable) it with home.
Allow me to back up a bit.
Coming from Amsterdam on train I was able to see one more city in Germany. I was going to Copenhagen, requiring a pass through northern Germany. I switched trains in Hamburg (the origin of the word Hamburger) and was able to see little of the large city. I have seen more of Germany than any other country in Europe. I didn't know it then, but going to Copenhagen by train is difficult. Copenhagen, Denmark is on an island nearby Jutland, The North Sea, Sweden, and The Baltic Sea. I didn't think to ask the question, "how does a train go to an island?" The answer was simple. There isn't a bridge, and trains don't float, but if you put the train on a boat, the boat can float. While on the train, the conductor came over the loud speaker and spoke instructions in Danish followed by German. Naturally, I didn't understand. But I had made friends with a German girl who sat next to me. I was asked her what the conductor had said. She told me, "In ten minutes we have to get off the train." I asked, "Why's that?" I had already experienced broken-down trains in Austria - a story I will get to later - and this bit of information given by the conductor had echoes of the past. She said, "we are getting on boat." I asked her if we had to switch from the train, to a ferry, then back to a different train once on the island. She told me the train was getting on a boat, and we had to get off the train until the ferry reached land again.
To my amazement they drove a full sized train, plus others like busses and semi-trucks, onto a ferry for transport over the sea. It was very much a first for me. It was also my first time to see the Baltic. Instead of visiting the restuarants selling $15 hot dogs on board, I chose to stay on the top deck watching the sea. When we reached the island that seats Copenhagan, us train passengers re-boarded and were back on track, literally. I don't know how they did it, but the train pulled off of the boat and on to the rails without any flaw. It didn't matter the technicalities because we were off toward my first Scandinavian country and city.
Considering all the European cities I've seen thus far, I could live in Copenhagen. The people are nice, everyone speaks English, architecture is a beautiful mix of Nordic and contemporary styles, and Denmark is a very progressive county. The government stresses the importance of organic food and maintains adequate cycling paths throughout Copenhagen. There are vast numbers of Danes on bikes.
During my second night in Copenhagen I had the priviledge of meeting a Danish Navel Officer named Layla. She and her friend (I can't seem to remember her name) decided to show me a sailor's bar where old Danish sailors and hookers used to frequent for hundreds of years until being hastened by city restrictions. Now there are maybe two bars left in basements of old story-rich buildings. If only the walls could have talked, I think they'd have endless stories. It wasn't a wild place. Not counting our motly group of two Danish sailors, an American backpacker, and some Kiwis (people from New Zealand), there was only the lady bartender. After having our fill of traditional Danish Snaps, we walked to a disco. Discos are nightclubs, and I promise you I haven't heard any Bee Gees being played, yet.
Layla was a most extraordinary person, she could kick my ass on one foot if she felt the need. It is meeting people like her that I've deemed my trip worthy of taking time away from home. Sure I like the sites, but how exciting it is to meet such new and different people from all over the world.
My Eurorail train pass is in cahoots with a cruise liner named DFDS. This means I was able to travel on a large ship from Copenhagen to my current location at a very reasonable price. I'm almost completely sure I was the only American on that ship. Maybe not, but I didn't meet or hear any of that familar American accent. Mostly it was Scandinavian folk hailing from Denmark or Norway. Norwegian's are especially fun people. On board, I grouped with an Iranian living in Norway; a very pretty middle-aged Norwegian lady; an eccentric Dutchman; and about four Norwegian teenagers all sharing stories while sitting on the top deck. We spoke in English the entire time. I noticed how difficult and amusing it can be to have non-native English speakers conversing with eachother. I was often enthralled with laughter, as were the whole group, in misinterpretations and language misgivings. Later in the night we visited the disco on board the ship and jiggled our bodies while the ship cruised the sea. I said my goodbyes early and retreated to my room. On numerous occasions I was told to get up at seven just as the ship entered the Oslo fjord. To give you an idea of how long this fjord is, we didn't reach the city Oslo until 9:30.
I can't describe how clean the air is up here or how pristine the flora and landscape seem to be. The Polish graduate student was right about the natural richness of Norway. I'm staying here for five days. Partly because I couldn't get a train ticket to Stockholm until Monday, but I am not complaining. As soon as I left the ship I snapped a few pictures and deposited my bag into a locker. I needed coffee, food, and a map to start me off in Norway. Unfavorably, I stumbled into a mall. I knew malls would have what I needed at this point, leading me into the building. The mall I saw had about eight stories of stores and nearly every one of them had signs saying: "Sagst!!! -70%."
I found a map, ate a bagel, and was getting coffee when the very blonde Norwegian barista asked me, "You're visiting Norway?"
"Yes," I said.
She appropriately replied: "What are you doing in the mall, much less in the middle of the city? Go, get out and see trails. Take a water taxi to an island. Don't be here."
I didn't explain my need for maps, bagels, and coffee. I, after all, had just recently gotten off the boat in this new place. I still thanked her for the advice and downed my machiatto.
Like a frenzied elephant that just escaped a zoo, I was off to find whatever it was the barista alluded to at the Oslo mall. I don't know how these things happen, but I stumbled onto an old Viking ruin during my walk. I've had much luck in finding the most interesting sites while in Europe just by aimlessly walking around its cities. As I stood taking pictures, I thought of these Vikings who I have only read about in books. Now I was standing in a structure the very same people touched, dwelled, and lived life in bringing me stories of Valhalla, Old Norse Sagas, and the amazing feat of long distance sea travel during such an early point of history.
As I looked nearby, I noticed a trail entrance resembling those in Roaring River Park back home. I jumped on the idea, I didn't care if I walked two miles or seven miles, I've been walking for the entire last month. I climbed the hillside forest adjacent to Oslo and stayed in the trails for six hours. It was here I met and walked with a very nice lady for nearly two and a half hours. She told me she remembered the Second World War vividly, so I'm guessing her age to be over seventy; though, she did not resemble this age range. We walked up and down hills through the woods at a pace that made me sweat in the cool air of the seaside forest. She told me amazing stories of protesting the nuclear bomb outside the US embassy during her apparent hippie years. She said that they all had symbols painted on their backs during the rally. When I asked which symbol it was, she used a stick to draw the peace sign into the dirt of the trail. "I know that sign," I said.
We walked by a lovely little kindergarten seated on top of the hill looking over the fjord. There she invited me to walk more with her and mentioned a cafe only a couple miles away. I eagerly accepted the invitation. On the way, she announced to me that she had been a doctor and was now retired. I had the priviledge of hearing one of the most inspiring stories about a doctor she once knew.
The man was from India and grew up very poor in a large family. He had had dreams of going to school, so he convinced his family he wanted to study in Norway. Having only a basic education from childhood, the family scratched some money together and bought him a bike. Apparently, as she said, he rode this bike from India to Norway sometime in the 1970's not having any money in his pocket. He still insisted on going to school when he arrived from across the Eurasian continent. Picking up little jobs wherever would hire him, he would send money back home to his family. Finally, not having much, he approached the prestigious University of Oslo and announced to the admissions that he desired to study there. At first they turned him down for not being able to pay tuition, but when a professor took notice of this man, he humbly allowed the aspiring student to take his class and see how he would do. The Indian ended up passing with a near perfect grade. This gave the professor confidence enough to sign for grants and scholarships the student needed for his tuition. As sure as I am the old lady wasn't lying to me, he graduated top of his class in medical school years later. He moved his family to Norway, and still has his practice there to this day.
The cafe promised to me overlooked the Oslo fjord where I had began to write this blog. No ships, no buildings, just islands, water, and greenery. The nice old lady bought me a Norwegian waffle and we ate in silence overlooking the fjord. Our conversation had run dry, and as soon as her waffle was gone she announced it was her grandaughter's birthday and that she had to be going. I thanked her for the company and squeezed in one last question:
"Can you really eat whale here?"
"Why yes," she said. "I had whale two nights ago." She gave me directions to get back into the city and then was gone. I never got her name, but her last words to me were, "enjoy your life."
Friday, August 7, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Train, and Prague.
Poland was behind me in my trip covering eleven more countries, but my next stop was not out of the Slavic speaking world. It was untroubling for me to infer bits of German on street signs or in conversation and indispensably convenient to be able to remember my hostel's street name. My language comfort bubble was to be busted with Polish and Czech. Slavic languages are very different from our German-Romantic stew we call English. Tell me a German word to remember, and I got it. Ask me what Polish street our hostel was on, and we'd probably never find the place again.
Luckily with Natalie and Dove I was able to learn polite Polish phrases of gratitude and salutations. But if you throw into the mixture a different dialect of Slavic languages, i.e. Czech, then words get mixed and people you deal with get frustrated. Sadly, I resorted to hand gestures and short whistles of contentment in order to express that which I felt appropriate. This speaking with the hands ended up getting back at me later.
My next destination was to be Prague in The Czech Republic. The land of Bohemia in the core of central Europe. Prague spreads itself around the shores of the Vlatava river and has been a settlemet for people - Celts originally - since 200 BC. [Sidenote: I wouldn't swim in either the Vlatava in Prague nor the river Vistula connecting Warsaw and Cracow.] Praha (Prague) was spared during those dreadfully disasterous wars in the twentieth century helping the city maintain its alluring attractiveness palpable in every corner of the city. Well, in the daytime. Day Prague and night Prague are as different as the words day and night themselves.
My train to Prague bunked six people in one little room with three beds stacked like cabinet shelves on either side. In admiration of thc ride I did meet these very nice Finnish girls in those close quarters. A Brit and I got the Finns to speak and teach us some Of their language. Finnish is completely different from the Germanic and Slavic languages. It's not even Indo-European in class or structure which puts it out of my comprehension. Finnish is full of the most interesting sounds any one person could ever make with their mouth.
All six of us, two Australians, two Finns, a Brit, and myself sweated and talked half the night about what it's like back home. To my own fortune I was on the bottom of the bunks. A perfect location for my head in direct way of falling backpacks and top bunked travelers getting down to use the bathroom.
We made it to Prague with no problems. The train did its duty transporting us and for that I am grateful. Once again, a big city in the center of Europe also means, "spray grafetti everywhere, please." This I noticed first about the city Prague. By this time in my trip I have a routine I follow for all new cities: find a map and figure out the public transport. Once that's figured out the whole of the city is more accessible. Prague has a wonderful and cheap (though sometimes I didn't pay) metro system taking you anywhere in admirable time. First off the train and saying goodbye to those Finns I set to grab cash. It was the third currency for me in ten days; my wallet was very colerful at this point. I hadn't showered since the morning before and had slept all night sweating in my clothes. Then to my dismay the hotel said check-in was six hours later. No problem, I brushed my teeth and picked flowers from the hotel to put under my arms.
The flower thing is a fabrication, no flowers found themselves in my pits. And I should point out I didn't book a hostel like I thought I had done. The website lied, I thought it was a hostel. Hotels are a little more lonely than hostels when you're by yourself.
It was time to walk around Prague all but showered. The hotel was far from the center and I figured more sweat on me wouldn't hurt. I footed the journey to see what the central Bohemian city had to offer. Having my map I strolled along the streets. I was going to see the infamous Prague Castle with the St. Vitus Cathedral in its center. Prague Castle is the largest in the world set on a hill by the banks of the Vltava. As soon as you see it, you breath leaves you behind. It is absolutely massive and surrounded by uniformed terra-cotta red roofs the city buildings seem to share. There is much uniformity with the city Prague and coming from my view of American cities I instantly appreciated the depth of consistancy this city held. Not monotonous by any standard but unique in the sheer scale of the city. Sometimes Prague is called, "City of a hundred spires," rather appropriatly named too. The view from Prague Castle on top of the hill shows spire after spire from church steeples to baroque buildings filling the city of Prague in a skydiver's nightmare. Spires or steeples - whichever the proper term - to me look very sharp and jagged spears. They're still interesting to look at, nonetheless.
Connecting the Staré Město (Old Town) to Prague Castle is a very old footbridge known as Charles Bridge. I crossed it many times. Europe's oldest synagogue aptly named "The New Old Synagogue" is there which i visited. Franze Kafka lived in Prague. His house is now a museum. There is also a very nice statue of him in the Jewish Quarter. In the Staré Město is a very interesting astronomical clock I can't describe because I don't know how it works. It is complicated with the zodiac signs and arabic numbers circling the three intertwined clocks. It does have an interesting story. The man who designed it in the 14th or 15th century was a very skilled clockmaker. The Bohemians of Prague liked their new clock so much they gouged his eyes out so he could not make another, that's gratitude for ya'.
I was burned a few times on overpriced low-quality meals. I swore off resturaunts for a time. My friend Steve once told me the best food in Prague is the fast food vendors on the street. It is true; however, these aren't like McDonald's. I would compare them to food stands at your local carnival. I was loving the bratwurst smeared with saurkraut and onion every chance I got, and for a good price too. Furthermore, they remained open until very late for those who stay up to see the wee hours of morning.
As I mentioned, you have day Prague, and you have night Prague. Day Prague is filled with tourists and their families strolling from site to site getting gouged by those awful restuarants and sham tour groups. Night Prague is filled with hookers, drug dealers, sex show peddlers, drunken loud englishmem, pub crawlers in mass numbers, local drunks, and your average modest Asian tourist looking very intrigued by the surrounding Gomorrah. Typically I stayed away from the streets at night. I did go to Prague's largest night club, The Karlovy Lazne, to dance and socialize one night. It was great fun and awkward at the same time to dance with non-english-speaking women. I just kept my mouth shut and jiggled my rear, everyone understands dancing.
Everyone.
Luckily with Natalie and Dove I was able to learn polite Polish phrases of gratitude and salutations. But if you throw into the mixture a different dialect of Slavic languages, i.e. Czech, then words get mixed and people you deal with get frustrated. Sadly, I resorted to hand gestures and short whistles of contentment in order to express that which I felt appropriate. This speaking with the hands ended up getting back at me later.
My next destination was to be Prague in The Czech Republic. The land of Bohemia in the core of central Europe. Prague spreads itself around the shores of the Vlatava river and has been a settlemet for people - Celts originally - since 200 BC. [Sidenote: I wouldn't swim in either the Vlatava in Prague nor the river Vistula connecting Warsaw and Cracow.] Praha (Prague) was spared during those dreadfully disasterous wars in the twentieth century helping the city maintain its alluring attractiveness palpable in every corner of the city. Well, in the daytime. Day Prague and night Prague are as different as the words day and night themselves.
My train to Prague bunked six people in one little room with three beds stacked like cabinet shelves on either side. In admiration of thc ride I did meet these very nice Finnish girls in those close quarters. A Brit and I got the Finns to speak and teach us some Of their language. Finnish is completely different from the Germanic and Slavic languages. It's not even Indo-European in class or structure which puts it out of my comprehension. Finnish is full of the most interesting sounds any one person could ever make with their mouth.
All six of us, two Australians, two Finns, a Brit, and myself sweated and talked half the night about what it's like back home. To my own fortune I was on the bottom of the bunks. A perfect location for my head in direct way of falling backpacks and top bunked travelers getting down to use the bathroom.
We made it to Prague with no problems. The train did its duty transporting us and for that I am grateful. Once again, a big city in the center of Europe also means, "spray grafetti everywhere, please." This I noticed first about the city Prague. By this time in my trip I have a routine I follow for all new cities: find a map and figure out the public transport. Once that's figured out the whole of the city is more accessible. Prague has a wonderful and cheap (though sometimes I didn't pay) metro system taking you anywhere in admirable time. First off the train and saying goodbye to those Finns I set to grab cash. It was the third currency for me in ten days; my wallet was very colerful at this point. I hadn't showered since the morning before and had slept all night sweating in my clothes. Then to my dismay the hotel said check-in was six hours later. No problem, I brushed my teeth and picked flowers from the hotel to put under my arms.
The flower thing is a fabrication, no flowers found themselves in my pits. And I should point out I didn't book a hostel like I thought I had done. The website lied, I thought it was a hostel. Hotels are a little more lonely than hostels when you're by yourself.
It was time to walk around Prague all but showered. The hotel was far from the center and I figured more sweat on me wouldn't hurt. I footed the journey to see what the central Bohemian city had to offer. Having my map I strolled along the streets. I was going to see the infamous Prague Castle with the St. Vitus Cathedral in its center. Prague Castle is the largest in the world set on a hill by the banks of the Vltava. As soon as you see it, you breath leaves you behind. It is absolutely massive and surrounded by uniformed terra-cotta red roofs the city buildings seem to share. There is much uniformity with the city Prague and coming from my view of American cities I instantly appreciated the depth of consistancy this city held. Not monotonous by any standard but unique in the sheer scale of the city. Sometimes Prague is called, "City of a hundred spires," rather appropriatly named too. The view from Prague Castle on top of the hill shows spire after spire from church steeples to baroque buildings filling the city of Prague in a skydiver's nightmare. Spires or steeples - whichever the proper term - to me look very sharp and jagged spears. They're still interesting to look at, nonetheless.
Connecting the Staré Město (Old Town) to Prague Castle is a very old footbridge known as Charles Bridge. I crossed it many times. Europe's oldest synagogue aptly named "The New Old Synagogue" is there which i visited. Franze Kafka lived in Prague. His house is now a museum. There is also a very nice statue of him in the Jewish Quarter. In the Staré Město is a very interesting astronomical clock I can't describe because I don't know how it works. It is complicated with the zodiac signs and arabic numbers circling the three intertwined clocks. It does have an interesting story. The man who designed it in the 14th or 15th century was a very skilled clockmaker. The Bohemians of Prague liked their new clock so much they gouged his eyes out so he could not make another, that's gratitude for ya'.
I was burned a few times on overpriced low-quality meals. I swore off resturaunts for a time. My friend Steve once told me the best food in Prague is the fast food vendors on the street. It is true; however, these aren't like McDonald's. I would compare them to food stands at your local carnival. I was loving the bratwurst smeared with saurkraut and onion every chance I got, and for a good price too. Furthermore, they remained open until very late for those who stay up to see the wee hours of morning.
As I mentioned, you have day Prague, and you have night Prague. Day Prague is filled with tourists and their families strolling from site to site getting gouged by those awful restuarants and sham tour groups. Night Prague is filled with hookers, drug dealers, sex show peddlers, drunken loud englishmem, pub crawlers in mass numbers, local drunks, and your average modest Asian tourist looking very intrigued by the surrounding Gomorrah. Typically I stayed away from the streets at night. I did go to Prague's largest night club, The Karlovy Lazne, to dance and socialize one night. It was great fun and awkward at the same time to dance with non-english-speaking women. I just kept my mouth shut and jiggled my rear, everyone understands dancing.
Everyone.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Cracow, Poland
I, at first, thought the train from Cracow to Warsaw would be another fleet of circumstances travelers just experience. I had dreams of sitting next to five Eastern Europeans refusing to open the window and bathrooms discharging themselves on to the track. In the very early morning I told Derrick, Amber, Hayden, Samuel, and Amelia goodbye to continue burning my trail. After derrick had dropped me off at the station, I walked to the railway to await my train. When boarded, much to my amazement, I discovered the train I was riding didn't have those stuffy individual rooms that sat six people. The wagon was spacious front to back with seats giving gracious amounts of leg room. Above the front entranceway hung a digital screen giving helpful information on current location, temperature, and remaining time to Cracow. There were also air conditioning and very clean bathrooms. I rode comfortably reading letters and watching the Polish lanscape float by picturesquely. In front of my seat a man had been studying me for sometime before he candidly asked if I was a geologist. I told him, "Excuse me?" He repeated himself and I answered I was not a geologist. Later he told me I had a geologist's likeness in the way I dressed. I enjoyed his assumption, it was better than being labeled totally tourist. He ended up being the real geologist on the train, and a Polish graduate student studying in Denmark. Through our talk with he using superb English we got on the subject of my going to Norway. Norway is a geologist's romantic novel it seems. He gave me with great enthusiasim places to visit and things to do while there. He said Oslo the city is great, but the natural wonders of the northern country are far more worth seeing. From fjords to glaciers and biking down mountains to camping I relished his advice. Currently i've made open two extra days of visit to the unparalled land of Norway.
I scheduled myself one night in Cracow before I headed to a different country. I wanted a little more Poland before I had to leave. As soon as the train arrived I immediatly reserved my ticket to Prague for the next night. Having my train reservation confirmed I set out to find the hostel I had booked.
Cracow the city has a true town center which all roads circumscribe. The city is blessed for being spared by the allied and axis bombs. The streets still branch off in a swirling fashion crawling away from the center instead of in a grid-like pattern. It was this swirling which confused me in the beginning. I literally walked round and round the center not ever progressing towards where I wanted to go but staying in the center's orbit like a sattelite with a giant backpack attatched.
To be honest I feel like a turtle when I walk with my backpack. It's my shell where I keep everything I need and brought to Europe. Appropriatly enough it's even green like some turtle's shells.
My room was reserved at Mama's Hostel in the center of everything. It's a great hostel I recommend to anyone. I now compare my hostels to Mama's social atmosphere. Perched on a building's third story floor inside the center of Cracow, the hostel Mama's is host to an eclectic group of travelers. From China to Korea, Australia and the Ukraine, Mama's is a melting pot of young people around the world.
But then again all my hostels have been a traveler's cassarole.
Anyway,
In Cracow I had a list of things I knew I had to see. Oscar Schindler's factory is in Cracow. Auschwitz is near the city. There is a castle, and also a church where in its bell tower a trumpeter plays a song to announce the top of the hour. I have taken videos of these things in Europe.
The tune - or song, melody, jingle - to my knowledge is called the "Hey Now," and it's been played atop St. Mary's Church since the dark ages. The story told to me occured sometime in the medieval period, where an invading army laid seige on Cracow. The trumpeter keeping to his duties sounded his song to announce the hour and was hit by an arrow mid-play. To this day the trumpeter stops playing his tune on the exact last note blown by the unfortunate medieval trumpeter.
When booking the tour of Auschwitz at the hostel, I met two people I later befriended. Natalie was an Oregon born Peace Corp volunter teaching English in the Ukraine, and then Dove was Australia born and teaching English in Warsaw. Natalie was also going to Auschwitz the following morning, so we had decided to make sure eachother was up early in the morning.
We had no trouble getting to the bus the next morning. We had time to buy water and sandwhiches for the one hour trip. I didn't feel like i was on a bus going to a death camp. I had my snack and new friend to talk with on the way. Then they played a forty five minute film telling the story of the soviet soldier who had filmed the liberation of Auschwitz.
I don't feel my explanation of what I saw at the concentration camps would be appropriate. In making this trip of mine I made sure I was visiting the largest and most atrocious World War II concentration camp. I didn't choose to do so based on enjoyment as I have with the other 90% of this trip. I chose to visit in order to see the dark side of the not so distant past. I can only recommend that you visit Auschwitz for yourself.
On a much lighter note and probably in bad taste, I saw a pizza shop across the parking lot of the camp-now-turned-museum. I thought to myself, "What a place to do business and nevertheless sell pizza and beer from across the street of Auschwitz. I don't think I'll go there." But then again I'm not totally surprised since i've seen the department store Dillards across the street from The Alamo. I would like to impose a commercial demilitarized zone that surrounds any solemn historical ground as little as The Alamo and as major as Auschwitz.
In no time back Natalie and I were back in the unique and wonderful Cracow. We joined with Dove and walked the streets in search of some food. At first we bounced from wall to wall of the city with no plans. We eventually decided to see the Jewish quarter of Cracow and find food there.
I recieved a lesson in slavic languages from Natalie who knew Ukranian and a little Russian and with Dove who had a polite and basic understanding of Polish. We laughed at the essential Polish phrases pamphlet handed out at Mama's. According to the pamphlet, one phrase essential to basic Polish dialogue is, "May I touch your bottom?"
We eventually found a restuarant inside the Jewish Quarter and were able to enjoy Polish dumplings. The dumplings come out stuffed full with whatever you decided and soaked in oil. I imagine with the oils and dough that perogi could be considered a heavy food.
Having been stuffed with perogi I knew of an old Jewish cemetary I wanted to see. The oils helped me remember it was there they had used smashed headstones as masonry in the surrounding walls. The Nazis destroyed the old cemetary in the occupation. Before I could enter I was instructed to "cover my head." I, out of respect, was made to wear my first kippah. Jewish cemeterys are unique to those I'm used to seeing. The graves are old, massive, and very close together. Instead of flowers in front of the graves they had rocks perched on top of the headstones. Rocks on the grave is their way of rememberence, and like at the Prayer Wall in Jerusalem I saw little handwritten notes stuck in cracks of the headstones. Who knows how old they were.
It was getting close for me to get in my reserved bed on the night train to Prague. After some more city bouncing, the group I was with paraded into the basement of an old building housing a hookah bar. The walls in this place were made of stone connected by brick and morter arched doorways. The rooms for relaxing had low arch ceilings and large comfortable pillows covering a soft endless couch. The air was filled with world music and sweet smelling sheesha. We were served sheesha in a giant hookah as the night for me began to end in Poland. Natalie, Dove, and I talked for three or more hours. In our talk we chuckled over life's situations and gawked at our own. There's freedom of expression amongst travelers, and you can't get better than that.
The night took over as I walked from the square to the train station. Moving through my trip I knew it was time to meet new people and see new things. I did appreciate my stay in Cracow. The great city not many know, in the Land of the Poles.
I scheduled myself one night in Cracow before I headed to a different country. I wanted a little more Poland before I had to leave. As soon as the train arrived I immediatly reserved my ticket to Prague for the next night. Having my train reservation confirmed I set out to find the hostel I had booked.
Cracow the city has a true town center which all roads circumscribe. The city is blessed for being spared by the allied and axis bombs. The streets still branch off in a swirling fashion crawling away from the center instead of in a grid-like pattern. It was this swirling which confused me in the beginning. I literally walked round and round the center not ever progressing towards where I wanted to go but staying in the center's orbit like a sattelite with a giant backpack attatched.
To be honest I feel like a turtle when I walk with my backpack. It's my shell where I keep everything I need and brought to Europe. Appropriatly enough it's even green like some turtle's shells.
My room was reserved at Mama's Hostel in the center of everything. It's a great hostel I recommend to anyone. I now compare my hostels to Mama's social atmosphere. Perched on a building's third story floor inside the center of Cracow, the hostel Mama's is host to an eclectic group of travelers. From China to Korea, Australia and the Ukraine, Mama's is a melting pot of young people around the world.
But then again all my hostels have been a traveler's cassarole.
Anyway,
In Cracow I had a list of things I knew I had to see. Oscar Schindler's factory is in Cracow. Auschwitz is near the city. There is a castle, and also a church where in its bell tower a trumpeter plays a song to announce the top of the hour. I have taken videos of these things in Europe.
The tune - or song, melody, jingle - to my knowledge is called the "Hey Now," and it's been played atop St. Mary's Church since the dark ages. The story told to me occured sometime in the medieval period, where an invading army laid seige on Cracow. The trumpeter keeping to his duties sounded his song to announce the hour and was hit by an arrow mid-play. To this day the trumpeter stops playing his tune on the exact last note blown by the unfortunate medieval trumpeter.
When booking the tour of Auschwitz at the hostel, I met two people I later befriended. Natalie was an Oregon born Peace Corp volunter teaching English in the Ukraine, and then Dove was Australia born and teaching English in Warsaw. Natalie was also going to Auschwitz the following morning, so we had decided to make sure eachother was up early in the morning.
We had no trouble getting to the bus the next morning. We had time to buy water and sandwhiches for the one hour trip. I didn't feel like i was on a bus going to a death camp. I had my snack and new friend to talk with on the way. Then they played a forty five minute film telling the story of the soviet soldier who had filmed the liberation of Auschwitz.
I don't feel my explanation of what I saw at the concentration camps would be appropriate. In making this trip of mine I made sure I was visiting the largest and most atrocious World War II concentration camp. I didn't choose to do so based on enjoyment as I have with the other 90% of this trip. I chose to visit in order to see the dark side of the not so distant past. I can only recommend that you visit Auschwitz for yourself.
On a much lighter note and probably in bad taste, I saw a pizza shop across the parking lot of the camp-now-turned-museum. I thought to myself, "What a place to do business and nevertheless sell pizza and beer from across the street of Auschwitz. I don't think I'll go there." But then again I'm not totally surprised since i've seen the department store Dillards across the street from The Alamo. I would like to impose a commercial demilitarized zone that surrounds any solemn historical ground as little as The Alamo and as major as Auschwitz.
In no time back Natalie and I were back in the unique and wonderful Cracow. We joined with Dove and walked the streets in search of some food. At first we bounced from wall to wall of the city with no plans. We eventually decided to see the Jewish quarter of Cracow and find food there.
I recieved a lesson in slavic languages from Natalie who knew Ukranian and a little Russian and with Dove who had a polite and basic understanding of Polish. We laughed at the essential Polish phrases pamphlet handed out at Mama's. According to the pamphlet, one phrase essential to basic Polish dialogue is, "May I touch your bottom?"
We eventually found a restuarant inside the Jewish Quarter and were able to enjoy Polish dumplings. The dumplings come out stuffed full with whatever you decided and soaked in oil. I imagine with the oils and dough that perogi could be considered a heavy food.
Having been stuffed with perogi I knew of an old Jewish cemetary I wanted to see. The oils helped me remember it was there they had used smashed headstones as masonry in the surrounding walls. The Nazis destroyed the old cemetary in the occupation. Before I could enter I was instructed to "cover my head." I, out of respect, was made to wear my first kippah. Jewish cemeterys are unique to those I'm used to seeing. The graves are old, massive, and very close together. Instead of flowers in front of the graves they had rocks perched on top of the headstones. Rocks on the grave is their way of rememberence, and like at the Prayer Wall in Jerusalem I saw little handwritten notes stuck in cracks of the headstones. Who knows how old they were.
It was getting close for me to get in my reserved bed on the night train to Prague. After some more city bouncing, the group I was with paraded into the basement of an old building housing a hookah bar. The walls in this place were made of stone connected by brick and morter arched doorways. The rooms for relaxing had low arch ceilings and large comfortable pillows covering a soft endless couch. The air was filled with world music and sweet smelling sheesha. We were served sheesha in a giant hookah as the night for me began to end in Poland. Natalie, Dove, and I talked for three or more hours. In our talk we chuckled over life's situations and gawked at our own. There's freedom of expression amongst travelers, and you can't get better than that.
The night took over as I walked from the square to the train station. Moving through my trip I knew it was time to meet new people and see new things. I did appreciate my stay in Cracow. The great city not many know, in the Land of the Poles.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Berlin's final show and then on to Poland
The following morning after the World War Two Tour it was time to get in touch with the Cold War.
I walked from my hostel to the Haptbahnhof where there I reserved a seat to Warsaw. On my way and through a park I happened to sadly discover two grown men passed out on a park bench with beer bottles strewn about everywhere. One man was sitting in a position where he was bent over himself while the other took full advantage of his friend's makeshift pillow by laying on him.
I had some patato salad after I found out my train left at 6:15 the following morning. The salad was sub-standard. Afterwards instead of walking like I had been, I took a cab to where the Berlin Wall once stood. All cabs in Berlin are Mercedes and are comfretable rides to your destination. The downside is your fare is too overpriced in the end if you have a budget. I got in and asked the driver to take me to Checkpoint Charlie.
Checkpoint Charlie used to be the place where East and West Berlin met amidst border patrol and guns. All that's left now are pictures set around a rebuilt guard station furnished with fake US military men. I wanted to see the Berlin Wall on its original foundation to get the real effect. The knocked down sections of the wall is commemorated by a narrow brickpath in the sidewalk. Around every ten meters is a brass plaquered telling you the wall's beginning and final years like a gravestone. I did manage to find a portion of the original wall on its original foundation.
Near Checkpoint Charlie is the Jewish Museum. It's in East Berlin which led to my first sight of great communist architecture. Giant apartment blocks painted grey with dark sunk in windows. I almost found that graffiti was appropriate on them. Especially this apartment block that had an entire mural covering at least fifteen storys.
The Jewish Museum is a monument as well as a museum. A great deal of abstract thinking using modern art went into the design. What you have as the final result is a building shaped into jagged lightening bolt. That is the best way i can desceibe it. One interpretation I was told is the museum resembles a broken Star of David. The whole museum is open to interpretation. Windows inside sometimes peer off into voids between the jagged building. A room I liked - and this is way out there, very abstract - consisted of nothing but concrete from head to foot and side to side. The only light source was a tiny rectangle at the top of the room's furthest corner. The whole floor was littered with these three pound steel plate faces with cut out eye-holes and a mouth. Once you were in the room you had to walk on them. As you did the concrete room would scream with the sound of clanking metal. It was impossible to take a step without there being a sound. I found it very moving, so I took a video.
From the Jewish Museum I felt it appropriate to walk where souviniers might be found. I was going to my step brother's house in Warsaw in a few hours and I wanted to bring his kids something. Unfortunatly I couldn't find anything worth giving plus it was getting late.
I ended up following the metro line with stations every few blocks to the main strip of downtown Berlin. It just happened I walked downtown. All i was doing was keeping my exit train in sight and bouncing from monument to monument as I saw them. I walked to the spot where Hitler had his book burning rallies. Now in the same square is a center piece where you look down and see empty bookshelves.
I continued my walk and ended up at a restuarant downtown. There I wrote a blog and ate a sausage. It became dark as I left for the hostel and it is here where I saw and met my very first prostitue. You can spot a prostitue, skanty clothing and ridiculous heels. I snapped a photo of one to prove my witness and told myself that's as far as I get. The problem was they were everywhere on the street. One of them wanted my attention real bad. She walked straight into my path and held out her hand saying, "stop!" Without thinking all I could say was in German, "I don't speak German, I AM sorry."
The girl was very pretty. Probably the prettiest I'd seen on the street. She had a great build and was rather young compared to the rest of her street commrads. Her and her friend standing behind her laughed at my German. The one who stopped me proceeded then to whip out a single piece of dice. This dye had on it an obscene cartoon. She asked me, "what is this?" I replied, "It's a cartoon." She said, "looks good? Maybe you come up to my apartment and we talk?" I replied, "I can't do that." This upset her, oddly enough. She immediatly couldn't make eye contact with me. She then asked with bewilderment, "well, why not?!" I took to my left shoulder and darted off. "No more," I thought.
That was my final taste of Germany, it was time to get a move on.
The next morning I was going to my next country out of many on this trip. My destination was Warsaw, Poland where I went to see my step-brother Derrick's family. The train from Berlin to Warsaw was not as nice as it had been from Munich to Berlin. I sat in a room with six seats behind a glass sliding door. There was also no air conditioning so when it finally got hot in Europe I felt all of it. Furthermore, I sat with two Polish ladies who would close the only window everytime I opened it. They told me I was going to get sick. I said I was hot and it's too dang stuffy in the train. They were too persistant for me so I gave up.
There are six seats in the little space we shared. Three on one side and three more on the other. Not much space between them either. I and the man who sat my opposite invaded eachother's space. Imagine how hot dogs are arranged in an unopened bag from the store. If you were there, you could have seen that the package of hot dogs looked like the arrangement of our legs. The order started with my leg, then other guy's leg, then my leg again, then other guy's, followed by polish ladies' leg, and repeated 'till the end of legs. Sleeping was invasive and impossible.
Seven hours later I arrived in Warsaw. Here's a note I wrote after getting off the train: "My first impression of Warsaw is directly affected by the scale of beautiful women who aren't afraid to stare with a smile as you walk passed them."
Several years ago I recieved a T-shirt from Derrick stating the Top Ten Reasons to Visit Poland. The shirt had ten women's names on it. I know why now. It's no lie.
Derrick and his family picked me up from the train station and housed me my entire time in Warsaw. The highlight of the trip was seeing his kids Hayden, Samuel, and little Amelia. The kids and I played games; tossed the basketball around with Derrick; and told me what was going on in their lives. It was enjoyable, every bit of it. I always did like his kids.
Warsaw itself is a sad story. The city was leveled completely by the end of the Second World War. It's population actually reached zero. Then the Soviets came and rebuilt the city complete with this ghastly Palace of Culture that's a skyscraper in the middle of the city. The communists also built apartment blocks. Just about all of them are still around today. In fact the new skyscrapers like the Marriot look very out of place. It was different to feel the presence of something I only used to read about.
I got along with everyone of Derrick's family pefectly except with their shitzu Rosa. Rosa and I had an arguement, she wanted to pee on me, I told her she could not. But she did anyway as I was walking up the stairs with her in my arms. I later forgave her for being a dog.
I was able to catch up on some rest while there. But when not resting I sampled Poland. I had the best bread imaginable. They bake it fresh every morning down the street. I saw the Warsaw Uprising museum. The Uprising itself is widly revered in Poland. A monument to the Uprising stands outside of their Supreme Court building. Old town Warsaw was better than I thought for being rebuilt. UNESCO even claimed it as a World Heritage site. Derrick, Samuel, and I even witnessed a film being made in its streets. As we were walking some gunshots were fired and this black armored truck with a swastika on it sped into the streets. Police were putting up their tape to block the crowds as things progressed. I didn't know what was going on and asked Derrick, "Is this safe?!"
After I said goodbye to the family, I was full steam ahead on this: My European Adventure.
I walked from my hostel to the Haptbahnhof where there I reserved a seat to Warsaw. On my way and through a park I happened to sadly discover two grown men passed out on a park bench with beer bottles strewn about everywhere. One man was sitting in a position where he was bent over himself while the other took full advantage of his friend's makeshift pillow by laying on him.
I had some patato salad after I found out my train left at 6:15 the following morning. The salad was sub-standard. Afterwards instead of walking like I had been, I took a cab to where the Berlin Wall once stood. All cabs in Berlin are Mercedes and are comfretable rides to your destination. The downside is your fare is too overpriced in the end if you have a budget. I got in and asked the driver to take me to Checkpoint Charlie.
Checkpoint Charlie used to be the place where East and West Berlin met amidst border patrol and guns. All that's left now are pictures set around a rebuilt guard station furnished with fake US military men. I wanted to see the Berlin Wall on its original foundation to get the real effect. The knocked down sections of the wall is commemorated by a narrow brickpath in the sidewalk. Around every ten meters is a brass plaquered telling you the wall's beginning and final years like a gravestone. I did manage to find a portion of the original wall on its original foundation.
Near Checkpoint Charlie is the Jewish Museum. It's in East Berlin which led to my first sight of great communist architecture. Giant apartment blocks painted grey with dark sunk in windows. I almost found that graffiti was appropriate on them. Especially this apartment block that had an entire mural covering at least fifteen storys.
The Jewish Museum is a monument as well as a museum. A great deal of abstract thinking using modern art went into the design. What you have as the final result is a building shaped into jagged lightening bolt. That is the best way i can desceibe it. One interpretation I was told is the museum resembles a broken Star of David. The whole museum is open to interpretation. Windows inside sometimes peer off into voids between the jagged building. A room I liked - and this is way out there, very abstract - consisted of nothing but concrete from head to foot and side to side. The only light source was a tiny rectangle at the top of the room's furthest corner. The whole floor was littered with these three pound steel plate faces with cut out eye-holes and a mouth. Once you were in the room you had to walk on them. As you did the concrete room would scream with the sound of clanking metal. It was impossible to take a step without there being a sound. I found it very moving, so I took a video.
From the Jewish Museum I felt it appropriate to walk where souviniers might be found. I was going to my step brother's house in Warsaw in a few hours and I wanted to bring his kids something. Unfortunatly I couldn't find anything worth giving plus it was getting late.
I ended up following the metro line with stations every few blocks to the main strip of downtown Berlin. It just happened I walked downtown. All i was doing was keeping my exit train in sight and bouncing from monument to monument as I saw them. I walked to the spot where Hitler had his book burning rallies. Now in the same square is a center piece where you look down and see empty bookshelves.
I continued my walk and ended up at a restuarant downtown. There I wrote a blog and ate a sausage. It became dark as I left for the hostel and it is here where I saw and met my very first prostitue. You can spot a prostitue, skanty clothing and ridiculous heels. I snapped a photo of one to prove my witness and told myself that's as far as I get. The problem was they were everywhere on the street. One of them wanted my attention real bad. She walked straight into my path and held out her hand saying, "stop!" Without thinking all I could say was in German, "I don't speak German, I AM sorry."
The girl was very pretty. Probably the prettiest I'd seen on the street. She had a great build and was rather young compared to the rest of her street commrads. Her and her friend standing behind her laughed at my German. The one who stopped me proceeded then to whip out a single piece of dice. This dye had on it an obscene cartoon. She asked me, "what is this?" I replied, "It's a cartoon." She said, "looks good? Maybe you come up to my apartment and we talk?" I replied, "I can't do that." This upset her, oddly enough. She immediatly couldn't make eye contact with me. She then asked with bewilderment, "well, why not?!" I took to my left shoulder and darted off. "No more," I thought.
That was my final taste of Germany, it was time to get a move on.
The next morning I was going to my next country out of many on this trip. My destination was Warsaw, Poland where I went to see my step-brother Derrick's family. The train from Berlin to Warsaw was not as nice as it had been from Munich to Berlin. I sat in a room with six seats behind a glass sliding door. There was also no air conditioning so when it finally got hot in Europe I felt all of it. Furthermore, I sat with two Polish ladies who would close the only window everytime I opened it. They told me I was going to get sick. I said I was hot and it's too dang stuffy in the train. They were too persistant for me so I gave up.
There are six seats in the little space we shared. Three on one side and three more on the other. Not much space between them either. I and the man who sat my opposite invaded eachother's space. Imagine how hot dogs are arranged in an unopened bag from the store. If you were there, you could have seen that the package of hot dogs looked like the arrangement of our legs. The order started with my leg, then other guy's leg, then my leg again, then other guy's, followed by polish ladies' leg, and repeated 'till the end of legs. Sleeping was invasive and impossible.
Seven hours later I arrived in Warsaw. Here's a note I wrote after getting off the train: "My first impression of Warsaw is directly affected by the scale of beautiful women who aren't afraid to stare with a smile as you walk passed them."
Several years ago I recieved a T-shirt from Derrick stating the Top Ten Reasons to Visit Poland. The shirt had ten women's names on it. I know why now. It's no lie.
Derrick and his family picked me up from the train station and housed me my entire time in Warsaw. The highlight of the trip was seeing his kids Hayden, Samuel, and little Amelia. The kids and I played games; tossed the basketball around with Derrick; and told me what was going on in their lives. It was enjoyable, every bit of it. I always did like his kids.
Warsaw itself is a sad story. The city was leveled completely by the end of the Second World War. It's population actually reached zero. Then the Soviets came and rebuilt the city complete with this ghastly Palace of Culture that's a skyscraper in the middle of the city. The communists also built apartment blocks. Just about all of them are still around today. In fact the new skyscrapers like the Marriot look very out of place. It was different to feel the presence of something I only used to read about.
I got along with everyone of Derrick's family pefectly except with their shitzu Rosa. Rosa and I had an arguement, she wanted to pee on me, I told her she could not. But she did anyway as I was walking up the stairs with her in my arms. I later forgave her for being a dog.
I was able to catch up on some rest while there. But when not resting I sampled Poland. I had the best bread imaginable. They bake it fresh every morning down the street. I saw the Warsaw Uprising museum. The Uprising itself is widly revered in Poland. A monument to the Uprising stands outside of their Supreme Court building. Old town Warsaw was better than I thought for being rebuilt. UNESCO even claimed it as a World Heritage site. Derrick, Samuel, and I even witnessed a film being made in its streets. As we were walking some gunshots were fired and this black armored truck with a swastika on it sped into the streets. Police were putting up their tape to block the crowds as things progressed. I didn't know what was going on and asked Derrick, "Is this safe?!"
After I said goodbye to the family, I was full steam ahead on this: My European Adventure.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Berlin again
"Ich bin ein Berliner!"
- John Fitzgerald Kennedy (Berliners really love him)
After seeing the Kaiser Church I had a nice big lunch and set off to see the Brandenburg Gate. I first approached the Siegessäule Monument which was built as a display of German unification and accomplishment. It's a big pole with a golden angel perched on top in the middle of a round-a-bout. I didn't know there was a tunnel that pedestrians were supposed to use to get to it. So, I ran accross the large road-in-a-circle.
I climbed the Siegessäule and saw all of the City of Berlin from the top. I'm not sure how high I was, but there were some stairs involved. Lots of 'em. The only complaint I have has to be all the graffiti on the monument itself. It's an eyesore.
I walked under the round-a-bout through a tunnel to cross the street this time, and a German lady was playing her guitar and singing in the tunnel. She was very smart I think in her choice of location for the acoustics of the tunnel accentuated her voice wonderfully. Her music was mezmorizing and luckily I got a video of it all. I really liked listening to her.
The Brandenburg Gate is right in front of the monument down the street through the park that's in the middle of the city. On another sad note, the park used to have superb old growth hardwood trees until the winter between 1945 & 1946. The Berliners were desperate enough to cut down the woods for timber. Most trees there now are 50 years old, although some old growth remains.
Unintentionally, I ran into a Soviet Monument that sits in front of the Gate, by the Reichstag, on the street. It was a grotesque and powerful showing of a 15 foot tall Soviet Soldier pointing down at you. He had a rifle and wore a large poncho. There's tanks and artillery machines parked on either side of the deal with the actual monument being a series of columns connected by their tops complete with Russian words in brass on all the sides. I evesdropped (as I've been doing more and more) on an English speaking tour to find out that the monument was on a mass grave of about Seven Thousand Soviet Soldiers who fell taking the German Reichstag. In total, the Soviets lost around Twenty Million people during the war. The monument was built when Berlin was in ruins and sectioned off between the allies. It lies in the British sector, making it the only soviet monument in West Berlin. Soviet Troops reached Berlin in March 1945, and the monument was built by November 1945.
That was rather sobering for me. Appropriatly there is a beer garden by the Reichstag and I decided to get unsobered in a libation to the past.
I drank my beer in a nice park that looked directly at the Reichstag, all I thought about was this is the place World War II ended. I was sitting where the history of the world had changed forever.
Enough with World War II.
The Brandenburg Gate sure was sweet. On top is a copper statue with four horses pulling a carriage. Inside the carriage is a man holding the German Iros Cross and a war eagle perched on top. When Napoleon liberated the German people from the Holy Roman Empire, he liked the sculpture on top of the Gate so much he brought it back with him to Paris. The Germans later retrived it - obviously.
Give me a bit, and I'll write day two. Now, I must eat
- John Fitzgerald Kennedy (Berliners really love him)
After seeing the Kaiser Church I had a nice big lunch and set off to see the Brandenburg Gate. I first approached the Siegessäule Monument which was built as a display of German unification and accomplishment. It's a big pole with a golden angel perched on top in the middle of a round-a-bout. I didn't know there was a tunnel that pedestrians were supposed to use to get to it. So, I ran accross the large road-in-a-circle.
I climbed the Siegessäule and saw all of the City of Berlin from the top. I'm not sure how high I was, but there were some stairs involved. Lots of 'em. The only complaint I have has to be all the graffiti on the monument itself. It's an eyesore.
I walked under the round-a-bout through a tunnel to cross the street this time, and a German lady was playing her guitar and singing in the tunnel. She was very smart I think in her choice of location for the acoustics of the tunnel accentuated her voice wonderfully. Her music was mezmorizing and luckily I got a video of it all. I really liked listening to her.
The Brandenburg Gate is right in front of the monument down the street through the park that's in the middle of the city. On another sad note, the park used to have superb old growth hardwood trees until the winter between 1945 & 1946. The Berliners were desperate enough to cut down the woods for timber. Most trees there now are 50 years old, although some old growth remains.
Unintentionally, I ran into a Soviet Monument that sits in front of the Gate, by the Reichstag, on the street. It was a grotesque and powerful showing of a 15 foot tall Soviet Soldier pointing down at you. He had a rifle and wore a large poncho. There's tanks and artillery machines parked on either side of the deal with the actual monument being a series of columns connected by their tops complete with Russian words in brass on all the sides. I evesdropped (as I've been doing more and more) on an English speaking tour to find out that the monument was on a mass grave of about Seven Thousand Soviet Soldiers who fell taking the German Reichstag. In total, the Soviets lost around Twenty Million people during the war. The monument was built when Berlin was in ruins and sectioned off between the allies. It lies in the British sector, making it the only soviet monument in West Berlin. Soviet Troops reached Berlin in March 1945, and the monument was built by November 1945.
That was rather sobering for me. Appropriatly there is a beer garden by the Reichstag and I decided to get unsobered in a libation to the past.
I drank my beer in a nice park that looked directly at the Reichstag, all I thought about was this is the place World War II ended. I was sitting where the history of the world had changed forever.
Enough with World War II.
The Brandenburg Gate sure was sweet. On top is a copper statue with four horses pulling a carriage. Inside the carriage is a man holding the German Iros Cross and a war eagle perched on top. When Napoleon liberated the German people from the Holy Roman Empire, he liked the sculpture on top of the Gate so much he brought it back with him to Paris. The Germans later retrived it - obviously.
Give me a bit, and I'll write day two. Now, I must eat
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Train ride, and first night in Berlin
Six hours on a train cutting across Germany with a screaming baby, snoring old man, and some dude sneaking cigarettes in the bathroom. That pretty much sums up the train ride.
The landscape was very nice at least. I didn't sleep a bit.
When I got to Berlin I had no hostel booked. Luckily the train station has lockers you can rent and put your luggage in for twenty-four hours. I took full advantage of this.
My first impression of Berlin was intimidating. There was graffiti everywhere and it seemed a little more rough than Munich. At the time, I knew of one place in Berlin, Pottsdamer. Basically the times square of Berlin. I found this taxi and asked him to take me there. He didn't speak English. I was very hungry, I missed the lunch on the train. At Pottsdamer I saw parts of the Berlin wall that were uprooted from their original foundation and displayed. That really made the Cold War seem real.
I found a resturant and had a German-Indian hybrid dish called "currywurst." Basically it's a sausage in curry sauce. Very good I have to say.
I was worried for some time I would be sleeping at the train station that night. As luck would have it, I found a hostel on the Internet with an available room.
Quickly, I got a cab and told him, "Bitte Meineger Straße." (please, meineger street).
He did not speak English. Which is probably why he took me to Meineker Straße.
This was a blunder I have to admit. I got my bearings and found out Meineger Straße was [I have no idea how many blocks, I didn't grow up in a city] blocks south. So I footed it to see the city.
That was a long walk. And I was very tired again. I found my hostel and it was quite an experience. The check-in girl was really cute and we talked for some time. Later that night I was drinking a beer outside and saw this shadow eating a cardboard box by the trash can. I thought it was a giant city rat. Immediatly I went and got that cute German girl from the front desk and demanded she tell me what this varment was. She said it was an eagle. I told her eagles have wings. She said that she didn't know the word for the animal in English and that eagle was German. We got close to the varment and with a flashlight I saw it was a hedgehog. I couldn't believe a hedgehog thrived in a city.
I slept in a room with 5 guys that night wiithout my luggage and set out the next morning to find another hostel (I could only book one night at the one I was at) and also grabbed my bag.
I managed to find another hostel in the north part of the city, which was a relief. After a few bus rides, and subway hopping I had my bag and self at the new hostel.
It was very early, around 8am. The new hostel told me my room wouldn't be ready till the afternoon but that I could leave my bag in their locker. Beggars can't be choosers.
Now I had time to explore the town.
My first stop: Berlin zoo. A sad place, really; prior to World War II the zoo was vibrant and teeming with species. During and after the war, the population of the zoo dwindled by more than 60%. On a sad note, during the devastating winter between 1945 & 1946 following the end of the war, some Berliners were reduced to eating some of the zoo animals.
Today the zoo is great. I just don't like zoos. I think they're sad, animals aren't meant to be caged. I knew two things the Berlin Zoo was internationally known for, that was its giant panda and a bear named Knut.
Knut (pronounced newt) is a polar bear born to the zoo not too long ago. Berlin's city flag shows a bear as its coat of arms, so when this furry baby polar bear was born the Berliners went ga-ga for Knut. Now Knut is an adolescent and not so cute anymore, but retains celebrity status. When I saw him, he was chewing on his playtoy (oddly shaped like a person) and jumping in and out of his very own pool. All the people who watched him with me went "ahh" everytime that bear moved.
So I saw the bears, and headed out of the zoo. Wondering aimlessly, I ran into the Kaiser Wiheim Kirsche. A church built in the late 19th century that was nearly destroyed in the Second World War. All that remains is the steeple.
There are mixed feelings about the church. It was extremely gawdy and only was built for the German monarchy during Germany's imperial days. It only gained reverence when it and most of Berlin was destroyed in the war.
It was the first World War II monument I had seen that was directly affected by the war.
----my train leaves early so I must stop here and finish later. Until the next post, tschüs.
The landscape was very nice at least. I didn't sleep a bit.
When I got to Berlin I had no hostel booked. Luckily the train station has lockers you can rent and put your luggage in for twenty-four hours. I took full advantage of this.
My first impression of Berlin was intimidating. There was graffiti everywhere and it seemed a little more rough than Munich. At the time, I knew of one place in Berlin, Pottsdamer. Basically the times square of Berlin. I found this taxi and asked him to take me there. He didn't speak English. I was very hungry, I missed the lunch on the train. At Pottsdamer I saw parts of the Berlin wall that were uprooted from their original foundation and displayed. That really made the Cold War seem real.
I found a resturant and had a German-Indian hybrid dish called "currywurst." Basically it's a sausage in curry sauce. Very good I have to say.
I was worried for some time I would be sleeping at the train station that night. As luck would have it, I found a hostel on the Internet with an available room.
Quickly, I got a cab and told him, "Bitte Meineger Straße." (please, meineger street).
He did not speak English. Which is probably why he took me to Meineker Straße.
This was a blunder I have to admit. I got my bearings and found out Meineger Straße was [I have no idea how many blocks, I didn't grow up in a city] blocks south. So I footed it to see the city.
That was a long walk. And I was very tired again. I found my hostel and it was quite an experience. The check-in girl was really cute and we talked for some time. Later that night I was drinking a beer outside and saw this shadow eating a cardboard box by the trash can. I thought it was a giant city rat. Immediatly I went and got that cute German girl from the front desk and demanded she tell me what this varment was. She said it was an eagle. I told her eagles have wings. She said that she didn't know the word for the animal in English and that eagle was German. We got close to the varment and with a flashlight I saw it was a hedgehog. I couldn't believe a hedgehog thrived in a city.
I slept in a room with 5 guys that night wiithout my luggage and set out the next morning to find another hostel (I could only book one night at the one I was at) and also grabbed my bag.
I managed to find another hostel in the north part of the city, which was a relief. After a few bus rides, and subway hopping I had my bag and self at the new hostel.
It was very early, around 8am. The new hostel told me my room wouldn't be ready till the afternoon but that I could leave my bag in their locker. Beggars can't be choosers.
Now I had time to explore the town.
My first stop: Berlin zoo. A sad place, really; prior to World War II the zoo was vibrant and teeming with species. During and after the war, the population of the zoo dwindled by more than 60%. On a sad note, during the devastating winter between 1945 & 1946 following the end of the war, some Berliners were reduced to eating some of the zoo animals.
Today the zoo is great. I just don't like zoos. I think they're sad, animals aren't meant to be caged. I knew two things the Berlin Zoo was internationally known for, that was its giant panda and a bear named Knut.
Knut (pronounced newt) is a polar bear born to the zoo not too long ago. Berlin's city flag shows a bear as its coat of arms, so when this furry baby polar bear was born the Berliners went ga-ga for Knut. Now Knut is an adolescent and not so cute anymore, but retains celebrity status. When I saw him, he was chewing on his playtoy (oddly shaped like a person) and jumping in and out of his very own pool. All the people who watched him with me went "ahh" everytime that bear moved.
So I saw the bears, and headed out of the zoo. Wondering aimlessly, I ran into the Kaiser Wiheim Kirsche. A church built in the late 19th century that was nearly destroyed in the Second World War. All that remains is the steeple.
There are mixed feelings about the church. It was extremely gawdy and only was built for the German monarchy during Germany's imperial days. It only gained reverence when it and most of Berlin was destroyed in the war.
It was the first World War II monument I had seen that was directly affected by the war.
----my train leaves early so I must stop here and finish later. Until the next post, tschüs.
Munich (München) continued:
After my first night spent in Europe/Germany/Munich, I was ready to take on the town. I showered, put on my walking shoes and headed downtown to see what went on. I got too caught up in my first European city that I forgot the city map. That was a one time mistake. Maps are essential not just for knowing your location, but also for getting to bus stops or the subway. So I went back to my hotel on the subway and retrived my map. NOW I was ready.
Munich has a pleasant baroque feeling that warms you if you should ever walk its streets. The buildings that survived the allied bombing of World War II are gothic, grey stones, sharp edges, gargoyles, all these on mainly churches. Lots of churches in Munich, old churches at that.
Munich is in Bavaria, a southern region in Germany with the alps to its south. Bavaria is known for good food, and good beer. I was surprised at the temperate weather. It would rain, suddenly stop, then rain again two hours later. And it was chilly, like in the 50's & 60's the whole time.
I read about Munich's beer halls on the plane before I'd arrived, and noted a paticular hall named The Hafbrauhaus. The Hafbrauhaus is a two-hundred year old multi-story beer hall where locals go to discuss politics over beer. Getting to the Hafbrauhaus was now a goal of mine. Beer halls in Munich are the central hang out spot. I read somewhere that Germans drink on average thirty gallons of beer a year. My kind of people.
The first beer hall I found wasn't the Hafbrauhaus but it served food and I was hungry. I'd figured out by now you don't wait to be seated in a European restuarant, you sit and wait for the waiter. I also found out the airport bartender who told me most Germans spoke English was the one full of it. At the beer hall, a nice older German lady took my order over hand signals and exagerated yes or no's.
I, without too much of a choice, got a really bitter beer and roast over gravy. It wasn't all bad, in fact I had the best darn potato salad the world ever produced. I was hooked, and they only gave me a little so I wanted more.
My dream of more potato salad was shattered, however, by my impatient old waitress. She wanted me gone. She brought me the bill and kept saying "pay, I go" but I was saying "I love potato saled," she won the battle and I left. I write this in Berlin two days later, and there hasn't been potato saled that's touched Munich's since. I think I'll write a song about it.
After my run-in with the forbidden potato saled I saw the Deutches Muesem of German Scientific Accomplishments. That's about all I have to say about that.
I crossed the River Isar and decided to find the Hafbrauhaus. I walked for nearly ninety minutes and got really tired so I sat at this restuarant's outside table and starred at my city map. The sign that pointed and read Hafbrauhaus was taking me in circles. I had no idea where it was. A waitress came out to get my order and I asked her where this elusive building was. She pointed right in front of me. The sign I was following was for parking. Nice
The Hafbrauhaus was full of people, all you heard were voices and clinking beer glasses. For better sound quality i chose to sit outside. I got my beer and chit chatted with a couple of British folk until it started to rain. The rain ran us off, and that does it with the beer hall experience. That night I roamed the streets again and was approached by a cross-dressed man of about 25 years. He gave me his German spiel to which I replied, "I don't speak German, I AM sorry." (in German) He and his friends laughed and as it turns out the transvestite was actually a groom in disguise. I had ran into a bachelor party. They were soliciting people for beer money, which I obliged and gave up 2 Euro. He gave me a little liquor bottle and some condoms for my expense.
I thought for sure the next day I was going to miss my train to Berlin. Luck was on my side and the train was late.
This was the first train I ever road under the circumstances. I had a ticket, in German, that told me my seat and boxcar number. I didn't know it told me that at the time. This very very nice non-English speaking older woman saw my aimless wondering on the platform and approached me saying German things. It wasn't until she akwardly left that I realized she was asking about my seat. I ran up to her and squating up and down said, "seat?" She understood me that I knew what she was asking earlier and showed me the info center that tells boxcar numbers and seat location. I didn't understand her, but she pointed and showed me where it was I needed to go.
Here's a quote from a Tennessee Williams play that seems appropriate for the nice lady - "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."
Thus I end my time in Munich and begins the train to Berlin.
Munich has a pleasant baroque feeling that warms you if you should ever walk its streets. The buildings that survived the allied bombing of World War II are gothic, grey stones, sharp edges, gargoyles, all these on mainly churches. Lots of churches in Munich, old churches at that.
Munich is in Bavaria, a southern region in Germany with the alps to its south. Bavaria is known for good food, and good beer. I was surprised at the temperate weather. It would rain, suddenly stop, then rain again two hours later. And it was chilly, like in the 50's & 60's the whole time.
I read about Munich's beer halls on the plane before I'd arrived, and noted a paticular hall named The Hafbrauhaus. The Hafbrauhaus is a two-hundred year old multi-story beer hall where locals go to discuss politics over beer. Getting to the Hafbrauhaus was now a goal of mine. Beer halls in Munich are the central hang out spot. I read somewhere that Germans drink on average thirty gallons of beer a year. My kind of people.
The first beer hall I found wasn't the Hafbrauhaus but it served food and I was hungry. I'd figured out by now you don't wait to be seated in a European restuarant, you sit and wait for the waiter. I also found out the airport bartender who told me most Germans spoke English was the one full of it. At the beer hall, a nice older German lady took my order over hand signals and exagerated yes or no's.
I, without too much of a choice, got a really bitter beer and roast over gravy. It wasn't all bad, in fact I had the best darn potato salad the world ever produced. I was hooked, and they only gave me a little so I wanted more.
My dream of more potato salad was shattered, however, by my impatient old waitress. She wanted me gone. She brought me the bill and kept saying "pay, I go" but I was saying "I love potato saled," she won the battle and I left. I write this in Berlin two days later, and there hasn't been potato saled that's touched Munich's since. I think I'll write a song about it.
After my run-in with the forbidden potato saled I saw the Deutches Muesem of German Scientific Accomplishments. That's about all I have to say about that.
I crossed the River Isar and decided to find the Hafbrauhaus. I walked for nearly ninety minutes and got really tired so I sat at this restuarant's outside table and starred at my city map. The sign that pointed and read Hafbrauhaus was taking me in circles. I had no idea where it was. A waitress came out to get my order and I asked her where this elusive building was. She pointed right in front of me. The sign I was following was for parking. Nice
The Hafbrauhaus was full of people, all you heard were voices and clinking beer glasses. For better sound quality i chose to sit outside. I got my beer and chit chatted with a couple of British folk until it started to rain. The rain ran us off, and that does it with the beer hall experience. That night I roamed the streets again and was approached by a cross-dressed man of about 25 years. He gave me his German spiel to which I replied, "I don't speak German, I AM sorry." (in German) He and his friends laughed and as it turns out the transvestite was actually a groom in disguise. I had ran into a bachelor party. They were soliciting people for beer money, which I obliged and gave up 2 Euro. He gave me a little liquor bottle and some condoms for my expense.
I thought for sure the next day I was going to miss my train to Berlin. Luck was on my side and the train was late.
This was the first train I ever road under the circumstances. I had a ticket, in German, that told me my seat and boxcar number. I didn't know it told me that at the time. This very very nice non-English speaking older woman saw my aimless wondering on the platform and approached me saying German things. It wasn't until she akwardly left that I realized she was asking about my seat. I ran up to her and squating up and down said, "seat?" She understood me that I knew what she was asking earlier and showed me the info center that tells boxcar numbers and seat location. I didn't understand her, but she pointed and showed me where it was I needed to go.
Here's a quote from a Tennessee Williams play that seems appropriate for the nice lady - "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."
Thus I end my time in Munich and begins the train to Berlin.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
