We left Paris early on Monday, and we made it through customs in London by 9 am, with no problems luckily. We got on a train to central London to meet up with Sharman, who had taken the day off to show us around and hang out with us. We did LOTS of walking. We saw The Globe, Westminster Abbey, Tower Bridge, St. Paul’s Cathedral (where Princess Di and Charles got married), The Parliament Building, Big Ben, 10 Downing Street, The Tower of London and Buckingham Palace (and associated gardens). We took a short tour of the palace, where we saw lots of paintings and furniture and jewelry. Unfortunately, we didn’t read the brochure until after we had bought our tickets. We really wanted to see some actual rooms in the palace, but those don’t open until July, so we were out of luck there.
In the afternoon, we found a café and had some tea and scones. Sharman taught us how to put the jam and cream on the scones the British way, so we can cross that experience off the list. I was beat at this point so I chose to slam back a double espresso as well, which definitely perked my eyelids up a bit. At the café, we met a guy from Sao Paulo (Brazil), who struck up some conversation with us because he was wondering where to find some good English food. In my mind, I was thinking “Does that exist?” but Sharman politely pointed him in the right direction. He turned out to be really interesting. He had come all the way to London for a Paul McCartney concert and he turned out to be a trip himself. He invited us to stay with him in Brazil, if we ever head that way. I wonder if he realizes that we really might :p.
After the café, it was time to head over to the theater district. Nick bought Sharman a ticket to see the play as well, so we went to pick up her ticket. Ah, what to say about the show. I had read mixed reviews about it, but I didn’t care at all. I had to go see it. Visually, it was really impressive. The set was really creative and I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The music was great as well, but I don’t think it was on quite the same level as Phantom. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it, Phantom still gives me goosebumps. I don’t think the sequel has the same effect. There was one incredibly moving scene but that one doesn’t compare to every scene in Phantom. Anyway, if you’re a fan, you should still see it if you can. It’s worth it.
After the show, Sharman drove us around a bit so that we could see London at night. We ended up missing Abby Road, which was too bad. I was really hoping to get a picture walking across it for my Dad. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 6:30, so we decided to just stay at the airport rather than get a hotel. Apparently, everyone and their mother had the same thought. The airport looked more like a homeless shelter when we walked in. The floor was just covered with bodies. We were exhausted. We tried to hole up in a dark area, which worked for a little while, but we were eventually woken up at 4 am when the information center next to us opened. We sleep-walked our way through security and customs and settled down at the gate. By 5:30 the airport looked like a Metropolis. Insanity. Our flight took off and got in on time. Another end to another amazing weekend.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Paris! Haw Haw Haw!
While waiting for the plane, my stomach started to do the, uh, Sammy dance. I ran to purchase the Imodium and by the time I was finished it was time to board- no time for a bathroom stop. I got on, I sat down, I stood up. I (ran) to the back of the plane and explained to the flight attendant that I really needed to use the bathroom. She seemed a little annoyed but didn’t put up a fight. I smiled and thanked her on my way back to my seat . I sat, buckled my seat-belt, thirty seconds went by, and I unbuckled my seat-belt, I stood up and (calmly) walked back to the back of the plane. I’m sure at this point, she (and everyone else I was passing) was thinking, “What is wrong with this girl, it’s a 50 minute flight.” I mumbled “I’m really sorry “ and proceeded to the bathroom. It was fairly embarrassing, but I enjoy sharing my bodily miseries for the humor value :p
The flight to Paris was short and (relatively) painless. We made our way through customs in a flash and unscathed by the border guards. We both imagined that French people would be stereotypically rude and awful, but it couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Everyone we met in France was incredibly welcoming and genuine. People were much friendlier about speaking English with us than most people in Germany and nobody looked down their nose at us like Miss UK did, that’s for sure.
We took a bus to our hotel which was AMAZING. Nick really deserves a standing ovation on that one. I of course had no idea where we were staying, so when we walked in and I saw their rates listed at 650 Euro a night (roughly $840) (+ 25Euro extra for a view of the Eiffel Tower) my mouth just about hit the floor. It turns out that Nick pricelined the hotel for just over $100 a night for the two nights. Priceline has been incredible to us more than once. If that doesn’t make you a believer, I don’t know what would. Because we had gotten barely any sleep the night before I really wanted to see if we could check in early so that I could sleep for a few hours (it was 9am at this point). The clerk was super friendly and great with us. He checked us in right away and gave us a room on the 15th floor, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower and of the Arc de Triumph. It was unreal. I was a happy (almost) birthday girl.
I dozed for a couple of hours and then got up and took a perfect hotel shower. You know the one. We originally planned to do a free walking tour of Paris, but opted to go to the Louvre instead. The trains in Paris were super easy to navigate and there was a train station conveniently attached to our hotel through a little mall, so getting places over the weekend was a cinch.
We decided to grab some food before walking through the museum because by that point I had made peace with my stomach and we were both pretty hungry. We had lunch at a typical French café and ended up sitting next to a couple from Philadelphia. We noticed that they had the Rick Steve’s guide book in hand, which is the same book that we have (and have loved) for Germany. That struck up some conversation and we talked about how surprising it was to us that the people were so friendly in France. They let us in on a little secret- you should never say “Hi” to a French person. To them, it’s like saying “Hey You”, so they tend to not be as friendly when greeted that way. This was advice that we followed all weekend and we never had a problem. Maybe we should have tested it out. Next time.
Back to the Louvre. Wow! You know, everyone always talks about how beautiful the museum is and I really thought, “How special can it be, it’s a bunch of paintings?” I’m not really into art. Not that I can’t appreciate something nice when I see it, but walking through art museums is a little dry for me, buuut I figured we had to visit the Louvre while we were in Paris. Man, there’s a reason why everyone always talks about it- it’s gorgeous, plain and simple. And HUGE! Apparently, it would take 9 months to walk through the entire museum and look at everything. I could have spent all day just looking at the outside of the building. It’s so ornate and regal looking. I was surprised because you can take pictures in the museum, without a flash, which was a rule that no one heeded nor enforced. The messed up thing about it is that when no one is allowed to bring cameras into the museum, those people who were flashing away will be pissed off about it.
The paintings in the museum were, of course, fantastic. For me, the best part of the museum was seeing the ceilings in the different rooms. How do people sculpt things on the ceilings? I feel like a little piece of humanity has died in that sense. No one cares about making things look nice just for the sake of it. I wish that I had a time machine, so that I could go back and meet the people who made those things. I’m sure it would make for some interesting conversations. Anyway, of course we saw the Mona Lisa, which was so tiny compared to everything around it. It looked so weird. More than the painting itself, I think the best part of that was the feeling of standing in front of something so famous and renowned. It was cool. We also saw the sculpture of Venus and Henry V’s crown jewels which were impressive, as one would expect a King’s jewels to be.
After the Louvre, we had planned to walk through a neighborhood called Montmarte. We thought getting our picture painted by a crazy Frenchman would be fitting, but just as we were exiting the subway, Sammy struck again. Deeply submerged in conversation with Nico, I somehow managed to slip and fall (very hard) while walking UP the stairs of the subway. Yes, that’s right. Up the stairs. I really don’t know how I manage to do these things. Unfortunately, my right knee smacking into the pavement with no help from my hands to stop me was enough to bring our walking to a halt for the day. After that, we holed up in a mall for an hour or so and got a drink. The mall wasn’t your typical cookie cutter structure like at home. It was built in the shape of a cathedral. All of the stores were in a circle around an open area in the middle and the ceiling was made of stained glass. If you’re a shopper, it would inspire you to max out your Visa.
On Saturday night, Nick’s parents got us tickets to go to the top of the Eifel Tower, so that we could be there at midnight for my birthday. After some consideration we decided to go up, despite the over-crowded elevator and the really high point at the top. We counted down at midnight and had some fun taking pictures at the top. Even though it’s such a cliché, Paris really is romantic and beautiful. The tower has a light show every hour on the hour until 1 am. It lights up like a big sparkler for a couple of minutes which gets lots of “oooohhhs and aaahhss.”
On Sunday, we hit up Notre Dame, a little bit of the Latin Quarter, and we made it to Montmarte. We tried to get to the Catacombs, which is the place where they buried the dead under the streets of Paris when they ran out of space in the cemeteries, but we didn’t realize the line closed at 4 while the catacombs themselves were open until 5. I was a little bummed. We both wanted to see some creepy bones, but maybe in another life
The restaurant that Nico found for dinner was incredible! “Le Train Bleu” was the place we went to for dinner, and I pray to the food Gods that I’ll be able to go there again someday. The restaurant itself was eccentric to say the least. It was in a train station and the sign for it was lit up in neon letters. It looked like a Johnny Rockets basically. When you stepped through the revolving doors, it was like falling through the rabbit hole. Everything in the room had gold trim, the ceilings were painted and sculpted just like those in the Louvre, and the staff was fully dressed in penguin attire, of course. We both ordered from the same set menu which included an appetizer, entrée, and choice of dessert or cheese. With each order you also got a half a bottle of wine with your meal. We started with some sort of sausage appetizer covered in a sauce made from deliciousness. Next, we got duck which I had ordered well done, while Nick opted for medium-rare. His was by far the better choice. Not that mine wasn’t incredible (because it was), but his was out of this world. With that, we got a side of whipped sweet potatoes, which were scrumptious. Neither of us really likes sweet potatoes. At Thanksgiving, I generally turn up my nose to them when my Dad makes them, but WOW- they were insanely good. For desert, I got some sort of Strawberry tart, while Nick went with the cheese plate. Turns out, I made the better decision there. He got three different pieces of cheese and one that smelled suspiciously of feet. I don’t think I’ve seen someone in so much pain before. Nick’s face turned bright red, as soon as he popped it into his mouth and I could tell he was struggling with all his might not to gag it up onto his plate. Hahaahaha.. That one will stay with me for awhile.
Also at dinner, Nick gave me another present from his parents –tickets to go see “Love Never Dies” (the sequel to “The Phantom of the Opera”) in London the next night. I was beside myself. I really love Phantom, so I was pretty ecstatic to find out we were going! After dinner we hopped on the Subway and took a quick detour to the Arc de Triumph, so that we could get a look at it at night. Talk about massive! I wanted to try to run into the middle, so that we could walk through it, but even at midnight, there was no way we were going to be able to run through 7 lanes of traffic. I wanted to get home, so that I could call my parents and show them the Eifel Tower all lit up, so we ran around the Arc, stopping once and a while to take some pictures. We must have looked so silly. Haha. We got back in time, so that I could call Mom and Dad and show them the skyline.
It was such a memorable trip. Nick really is the best <3.
The flight to Paris was short and (relatively) painless. We made our way through customs in a flash and unscathed by the border guards. We both imagined that French people would be stereotypically rude and awful, but it couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Everyone we met in France was incredibly welcoming and genuine. People were much friendlier about speaking English with us than most people in Germany and nobody looked down their nose at us like Miss UK did, that’s for sure.
We took a bus to our hotel which was AMAZING. Nick really deserves a standing ovation on that one. I of course had no idea where we were staying, so when we walked in and I saw their rates listed at 650 Euro a night (roughly $840) (+ 25Euro extra for a view of the Eiffel Tower) my mouth just about hit the floor. It turns out that Nick pricelined the hotel for just over $100 a night for the two nights. Priceline has been incredible to us more than once. If that doesn’t make you a believer, I don’t know what would. Because we had gotten barely any sleep the night before I really wanted to see if we could check in early so that I could sleep for a few hours (it was 9am at this point). The clerk was super friendly and great with us. He checked us in right away and gave us a room on the 15th floor, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower and of the Arc de Triumph. It was unreal. I was a happy (almost) birthday girl.
I dozed for a couple of hours and then got up and took a perfect hotel shower. You know the one. We originally planned to do a free walking tour of Paris, but opted to go to the Louvre instead. The trains in Paris were super easy to navigate and there was a train station conveniently attached to our hotel through a little mall, so getting places over the weekend was a cinch.
We decided to grab some food before walking through the museum because by that point I had made peace with my stomach and we were both pretty hungry. We had lunch at a typical French café and ended up sitting next to a couple from Philadelphia. We noticed that they had the Rick Steve’s guide book in hand, which is the same book that we have (and have loved) for Germany. That struck up some conversation and we talked about how surprising it was to us that the people were so friendly in France. They let us in on a little secret- you should never say “Hi” to a French person. To them, it’s like saying “Hey You”, so they tend to not be as friendly when greeted that way. This was advice that we followed all weekend and we never had a problem. Maybe we should have tested it out. Next time.
Back to the Louvre. Wow! You know, everyone always talks about how beautiful the museum is and I really thought, “How special can it be, it’s a bunch of paintings?” I’m not really into art. Not that I can’t appreciate something nice when I see it, but walking through art museums is a little dry for me, buuut I figured we had to visit the Louvre while we were in Paris. Man, there’s a reason why everyone always talks about it- it’s gorgeous, plain and simple. And HUGE! Apparently, it would take 9 months to walk through the entire museum and look at everything. I could have spent all day just looking at the outside of the building. It’s so ornate and regal looking. I was surprised because you can take pictures in the museum, without a flash, which was a rule that no one heeded nor enforced. The messed up thing about it is that when no one is allowed to bring cameras into the museum, those people who were flashing away will be pissed off about it.
The paintings in the museum were, of course, fantastic. For me, the best part of the museum was seeing the ceilings in the different rooms. How do people sculpt things on the ceilings? I feel like a little piece of humanity has died in that sense. No one cares about making things look nice just for the sake of it. I wish that I had a time machine, so that I could go back and meet the people who made those things. I’m sure it would make for some interesting conversations. Anyway, of course we saw the Mona Lisa, which was so tiny compared to everything around it. It looked so weird. More than the painting itself, I think the best part of that was the feeling of standing in front of something so famous and renowned. It was cool. We also saw the sculpture of Venus and Henry V’s crown jewels which were impressive, as one would expect a King’s jewels to be.
After the Louvre, we had planned to walk through a neighborhood called Montmarte. We thought getting our picture painted by a crazy Frenchman would be fitting, but just as we were exiting the subway, Sammy struck again. Deeply submerged in conversation with Nico, I somehow managed to slip and fall (very hard) while walking UP the stairs of the subway. Yes, that’s right. Up the stairs. I really don’t know how I manage to do these things. Unfortunately, my right knee smacking into the pavement with no help from my hands to stop me was enough to bring our walking to a halt for the day. After that, we holed up in a mall for an hour or so and got a drink. The mall wasn’t your typical cookie cutter structure like at home. It was built in the shape of a cathedral. All of the stores were in a circle around an open area in the middle and the ceiling was made of stained glass. If you’re a shopper, it would inspire you to max out your Visa.
On Saturday night, Nick’s parents got us tickets to go to the top of the Eifel Tower, so that we could be there at midnight for my birthday. After some consideration we decided to go up, despite the over-crowded elevator and the really high point at the top. We counted down at midnight and had some fun taking pictures at the top. Even though it’s such a cliché, Paris really is romantic and beautiful. The tower has a light show every hour on the hour until 1 am. It lights up like a big sparkler for a couple of minutes which gets lots of “oooohhhs and aaahhss.”
On Sunday, we hit up Notre Dame, a little bit of the Latin Quarter, and we made it to Montmarte. We tried to get to the Catacombs, which is the place where they buried the dead under the streets of Paris when they ran out of space in the cemeteries, but we didn’t realize the line closed at 4 while the catacombs themselves were open until 5. I was a little bummed. We both wanted to see some creepy bones, but maybe in another life
The restaurant that Nico found for dinner was incredible! “Le Train Bleu” was the place we went to for dinner, and I pray to the food Gods that I’ll be able to go there again someday. The restaurant itself was eccentric to say the least. It was in a train station and the sign for it was lit up in neon letters. It looked like a Johnny Rockets basically. When you stepped through the revolving doors, it was like falling through the rabbit hole. Everything in the room had gold trim, the ceilings were painted and sculpted just like those in the Louvre, and the staff was fully dressed in penguin attire, of course. We both ordered from the same set menu which included an appetizer, entrée, and choice of dessert or cheese. With each order you also got a half a bottle of wine with your meal. We started with some sort of sausage appetizer covered in a sauce made from deliciousness. Next, we got duck which I had ordered well done, while Nick opted for medium-rare. His was by far the better choice. Not that mine wasn’t incredible (because it was), but his was out of this world. With that, we got a side of whipped sweet potatoes, which were scrumptious. Neither of us really likes sweet potatoes. At Thanksgiving, I generally turn up my nose to them when my Dad makes them, but WOW- they were insanely good. For desert, I got some sort of Strawberry tart, while Nick went with the cheese plate. Turns out, I made the better decision there. He got three different pieces of cheese and one that smelled suspiciously of feet. I don’t think I’ve seen someone in so much pain before. Nick’s face turned bright red, as soon as he popped it into his mouth and I could tell he was struggling with all his might not to gag it up onto his plate. Hahaahaha.. That one will stay with me for awhile.
Also at dinner, Nick gave me another present from his parents –tickets to go see “Love Never Dies” (the sequel to “The Phantom of the Opera”) in London the next night. I was beside myself. I really love Phantom, so I was pretty ecstatic to find out we were going! After dinner we hopped on the Subway and took a quick detour to the Arc de Triumph, so that we could get a look at it at night. Talk about massive! I wanted to try to run into the middle, so that we could walk through it, but even at midnight, there was no way we were going to be able to run through 7 lanes of traffic. I wanted to get home, so that I could call my parents and show them the Eifel Tower all lit up, so we ran around the Arc, stopping once and a while to take some pictures. We must have looked so silly. Haha. We got back in time, so that I could call Mom and Dad and show them the skyline.
It was such a memorable trip. Nick really is the best <3.
Birthday plans!
I figured I would give Nick’s fingers a vacation and write the entry about my birthday weekend because Nick put a lot of effort into making it really special and I love him a little more for it, if that’s possible. We mentioned in an earlier post that we had bought insanely cheap tickets to different places via RyanAir. For the weekend of my birthday, we bought a round trip to London for 6 Euro each. I admit, London was not the place that I really wanted to spend my birthday in. There were far more romantic and cool places that I had in mind, but I couldn’t pass up the ridiculous offer.
I contacted our friend Sharman who we had met in Ecuador while we were living there. Marta (our Spanish teacher) introduced us to Sharman because Sharman was taking a 2 week vacation to Ecuador and was looking for some people who she could (understand) and hang out with. We took her to Salsa night, dancing and went out for dinner a few times. She’s a great person and told us if we ever came to London to get in touch and she would love to show us around. So, we did. I was under the impression that Shar would be picking us up from the airport and we would be staying with her for weekend. Meanwhile, Nick found a really great deal on a flight from London to Paris because he knew I had been dying to go there forever. He contacted Sharman and told her to keep sending me messages and keep me under the impression that we would be in London for the whole weekend.
Flash forward to the week before the trip. Of course, as luck would have it we both came down with colds on Wednesday before leaving on Friday. If you don’t already know, I really have to be one of the unluckiest people in the world (as far as random mishaps go). Sometimes, I feel like the guy from Mario Kart driving around with the storm cloud above my head. I spent most of Thursday and Friday sleeping (occasionally waking up to watch the World Cup :D) and pumping my stomach full of OJ and soup.
When Friday came, although my sore throat had subsided a bit, I still felt like there was a small army of germs marching its way through my sinuses; but, off we went. Our flight didn’t leave until 10:55pm and was only a little more than an hour long. Because of the time difference, we arrived in London at 11:30pm. The flight was smooth but I ended up having a problem with my ears and sinuses while we were landing. My ears were in an immense amount of pain, so I was happy to be on the ground not only on time, but early! Nick, of course, was thinking “Wait until she finds out we have another plane to catch!” However, that’s where the luck stopped for the time being. As we rounded the corner for customs, I knew we were in for a LONG night. There were about 150 people waiting in line in front of us, waiting to be pushed through the two windows that were open.
An hour and a half later, we had the pleasure of meeting the most unpleasant woman on Earth. I have never been looked at in such a suspicious manner before. Now, after standing in line for an hour and a half until 1 in the morning while sick, I had some trouble dealing with her BS. The first thing she said to us (no greeting) was “Put your passports together on the counter, so I only need to reach up once.” What?! You’ve got to be kidding me. I mean I know that border guards have a physically demanding job and all, but REALLY? She continued to bombard us with questions about our jobs, lives, intentions etc. Even after asking for and seeing our return ticket to Germany, she seemed to think that she was doing us a favor by letting us in. Thanks to Satan, we missed the bus we needed to take to the other airport (at this point, I was still thinking that Shar was picking us up there because it was closer to her house). We asked an information desk what our next best option was and they told us there was a bus that would take us into London (1 hour and 15 minutes) then we would have to wait another hour there and then get on a second bus to the airport (add one more hour and fifteen on).
At this point, I was practically begging Nick to call Sharman and see if she would be willing to pick us up at this airport, so that we could get some sleep and not have to arrive at the airport at 4:30 am. Nick responded by pulling a present (wrapped in printer paper hehe) out of his bag and said “Happy Birthday.” He told me I should open the present because everything was going wrong for us and I could use a pick me up. Dazed and confused, I told him that I could wait until my birthday and I didn’t want to open it. He insisted so finally I gave in –who doesn’t love presents, right? It was an English/French dictionary. He explained that he knew I had always wanted to go to Paris, so he wanted me to be there for my birthday. He then explained to me that we NEEDED to take the 3 hour bus in order to get to the airport and catch our flight out at 6. Well, Jeez. It was such a romantic, hectic evening. One thing the info office failed to mention was that the bus would be dropping us off in the middle of London IN THE COLD at 2 am. There was no bus station to wait in and we were not impressed.
There was a Romanian girl on our bus who was in the same boat as us. She needed to get to the other airport, so we walked with her from the corner where bus #1 dropped us into the cold, dark night to the bus stop where we would catch bus #2 and we decided we would try to find a café or something to wait in. When we found bus stop #2, there was a bus parked there ready to go the airport. It wasn’t the same but as the one we had on our tickets, but we decided to beg the driver to let us on. After some debate, the guy finally said OK and we were off. We got into the airport at 3:30 am but c'est la vie, we were off to Paris!
I contacted our friend Sharman who we had met in Ecuador while we were living there. Marta (our Spanish teacher) introduced us to Sharman because Sharman was taking a 2 week vacation to Ecuador and was looking for some people who she could (understand) and hang out with. We took her to Salsa night, dancing and went out for dinner a few times. She’s a great person and told us if we ever came to London to get in touch and she would love to show us around. So, we did. I was under the impression that Shar would be picking us up from the airport and we would be staying with her for weekend. Meanwhile, Nick found a really great deal on a flight from London to Paris because he knew I had been dying to go there forever. He contacted Sharman and told her to keep sending me messages and keep me under the impression that we would be in London for the whole weekend.
Flash forward to the week before the trip. Of course, as luck would have it we both came down with colds on Wednesday before leaving on Friday. If you don’t already know, I really have to be one of the unluckiest people in the world (as far as random mishaps go). Sometimes, I feel like the guy from Mario Kart driving around with the storm cloud above my head. I spent most of Thursday and Friday sleeping (occasionally waking up to watch the World Cup :D) and pumping my stomach full of OJ and soup.
When Friday came, although my sore throat had subsided a bit, I still felt like there was a small army of germs marching its way through my sinuses; but, off we went. Our flight didn’t leave until 10:55pm and was only a little more than an hour long. Because of the time difference, we arrived in London at 11:30pm. The flight was smooth but I ended up having a problem with my ears and sinuses while we were landing. My ears were in an immense amount of pain, so I was happy to be on the ground not only on time, but early! Nick, of course, was thinking “Wait until she finds out we have another plane to catch!” However, that’s where the luck stopped for the time being. As we rounded the corner for customs, I knew we were in for a LONG night. There were about 150 people waiting in line in front of us, waiting to be pushed through the two windows that were open.
An hour and a half later, we had the pleasure of meeting the most unpleasant woman on Earth. I have never been looked at in such a suspicious manner before. Now, after standing in line for an hour and a half until 1 in the morning while sick, I had some trouble dealing with her BS. The first thing she said to us (no greeting) was “Put your passports together on the counter, so I only need to reach up once.” What?! You’ve got to be kidding me. I mean I know that border guards have a physically demanding job and all, but REALLY? She continued to bombard us with questions about our jobs, lives, intentions etc. Even after asking for and seeing our return ticket to Germany, she seemed to think that she was doing us a favor by letting us in. Thanks to Satan, we missed the bus we needed to take to the other airport (at this point, I was still thinking that Shar was picking us up there because it was closer to her house). We asked an information desk what our next best option was and they told us there was a bus that would take us into London (1 hour and 15 minutes) then we would have to wait another hour there and then get on a second bus to the airport (add one more hour and fifteen on).
At this point, I was practically begging Nick to call Sharman and see if she would be willing to pick us up at this airport, so that we could get some sleep and not have to arrive at the airport at 4:30 am. Nick responded by pulling a present (wrapped in printer paper hehe) out of his bag and said “Happy Birthday.” He told me I should open the present because everything was going wrong for us and I could use a pick me up. Dazed and confused, I told him that I could wait until my birthday and I didn’t want to open it. He insisted so finally I gave in –who doesn’t love presents, right? It was an English/French dictionary. He explained that he knew I had always wanted to go to Paris, so he wanted me to be there for my birthday. He then explained to me that we NEEDED to take the 3 hour bus in order to get to the airport and catch our flight out at 6. Well, Jeez. It was such a romantic, hectic evening. One thing the info office failed to mention was that the bus would be dropping us off in the middle of London IN THE COLD at 2 am. There was no bus station to wait in and we were not impressed.
There was a Romanian girl on our bus who was in the same boat as us. She needed to get to the other airport, so we walked with her from the corner where bus #1 dropped us into the cold, dark night to the bus stop where we would catch bus #2 and we decided we would try to find a café or something to wait in. When we found bus stop #2, there was a bus parked there ready to go the airport. It wasn’t the same but as the one we had on our tickets, but we decided to beg the driver to let us on. After some debate, the guy finally said OK and we were off. We got into the airport at 3:30 am but c'est la vie, we were off to Paris!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Munich II
Munich Part II
Unfortunately, a lot of time has passed since my last entry.......but I neglected to finish my thoughts on Munich, so this will be a (brief) summary of our last few hours in Bavaria.
When we were on the bus to Dachau (you take a train to the won of Dachau and then a bus to the camp), an American on the bus asked to borrow my Rick Steves book. When she brought it back, she told us about a celebration in the center of town. Starting at 3pm, there was free beer and a huge celebration in the main square due to Munich's soccer team's triumph in the German league. Apparently, they won the championship. This became more apparent when we got back into the city, the train filled to the brim with people wearing jerseys, hats, and scarves. I saw more grown men than I could count who had winter scarves tied to both arms on a hot, almost 80-degree day. So I had to show my Munichian pride as well......Sammy let me buy a scarf to don for the celebration. It's not every day you're at the May version of Oktoberfest in Munich (known as Munchen in German btw).
So down to the main square we went.....though it was too packed to get anywhere near the middle (from whence the free beer must have flowed). We saw plenty of the free beer cups stacked high in many a Munichians hands though.....and many a paid-for beer bottle as well. Remember how there's no open container law? It comes in particularly handy when your soccer team wins the national championship.
Anyway, we walked around as best we could (though the main square was jammed) and heard the music and listened to thousands of Germans join in a raucous chorus or two of Sweet Caroline. Who would have known that Neil Diamond was popular enough to be the anthem of a victory party here in Germany? Unfortunately, I never blogged when we were in South America......but let me take this opportunity to also marvel at the immense popularity of Bob Marley anywhere within a 5 hour drive of sand and salt water. We went to coastal towns in Ecuador where clearly no one spoke more than 5 words of English ("yes", "no", and "good price for you!"). But they all bopped their heads to Bob. Even in a town where there was one straw hut beach bar after another and people Salsa-ed and Bachata-ed until the wee hours of the morning....any place that didn't mix in a Bob Marley tune or two or five throughout the night was definitely the exception rather than the rule.
That's going to lead me on a quick tangent of the power of American culture. I don't know as though the average American realizes the influence of American culture and tastes worldwide. Yes, I know Neil Diamond is Canadian. So is Johnny Favourite Swing Orchestra. Ever heard of them? Ya know why? They didn't have a big US hit. Anyway.......American music and fast food chains and corporations are just everywhere. It's really amazing sometimes when I realize how far our tastes reach. We were in the jungle hearing FloRida's "Low" and in shopping malls in Quito, Ecuador (where, again, very few people speak English) where the music was all American/British adult contemporary pop. That probably doesn't surprise you until you think about it. Imagine that you're a marginally well-to-do mall shopper in a major city in the US and you were in the mall......and all of the music was in Russian. Imagine you worked in the Gap and you didn't really understand a word of what was being said in the songs playing in your store all day long. Sure, I know that once in a great while we have a pop song that gets popular that's got some spanish in it. But "dame la gasoliiiiina" every once in a while isn't the same as an entire afternoon of listening to Phil Collins when you don't speak English. Yes, I know he's not American either. But hopefully you're getting my point. In Quito, we had Pizza Hut, Papa John's, Domino's, Tony Roma's, Applebee's, McDonald's, Burger King, Baskin Robins, KFC, Taco Bell, TGI Friday's, and Payless Shoes (which wasn't where you really went if you wanted to Pay Less.....paying less meant going to one of the MANY Chinese stores called "Hong Kong Almacen" or something like that were you could buy a pair of dress shoes or "Nike" sneakers for $7-$15 (fifteen would be really, really nice). In Costa Rica, so many American companies had large office buildings in industrial parks where companies like Western Union headquarter most of their accounting. In one park, I think we saw Western Union, Proctor & Gamble, Oracle, Microsoft, HP.....and several that I've forgotten. Though Starbucks doesn't sell coffee in Costa Rica, we saw their office in San Jose where they negotiate with their suppliers. In Colombia, we finally got a Subway Sub for the first time after about 7 months. And those are relatively poor countries (as compared to the US). In Ecuador, lunch was $1.50 at a local restaurant -- consisting of a large bowl of soup, a plate of rice with vegetables and meat, and a glass of juice. Yet people were willing to splurge on a $4 or $5 value meal at McDonald's. I have yet to see the village without Coca-Cola -- including at the top of the crater of a volcano at 12,000 feet where there weren't even enough houses to call it a village. They still had a convenience store that stocked Coke. It's amazing to realize that whether we are loved or hated in the world, the things that we produce are still in such high demand -- even in places where people have neither the need nor the means to consume them. While in some ways, I don't think this is all as bad as some people more liberal than I would tell you. But it worries me as to what will happen to smaller cultures around the world. One of the things I miss the most about Ecuador is flying around bends on mountain side roads with the bus driver blasting upbeat local music in Spanish at 2am. I worry that someday, that, too, will be gone. I hope it won't.
But anyway -- back to Munich. We weaved around the crowd and made our way to our key destination for nourishment -- Hofbrauhaus -- the most famous (and largest) Beer Hall in Germany and the World. During Oktoberfest, this is apparently the place to be. It's where Germans and tourists alike down copius amounts of German beer and they serve the finest of local cuisine. All of the beer except for White Beer (a local specialty made from Wheat) is only served in a 1L glass -- so more or less, you gotta drink a lot of beer. The place is said to pour 10,000 of the 1L glasses a day. Once of the more interesting things about Bavaria is that you get an interesting mix of people who look more or less the same as any average American......as well as the folks who still dress in the traditional suspenders/coveralls/Birkenstocks/etc. The Hofbrauhaus did not disappoint........
So Sam and I ordered some grub and as we were waiting, there was a band just finishing up their gig playing traditional Bavarian music. At some point, a large, happy, very traditionally dressed man (picture it down to the fedora-y type hat with a feather) leaned down onto our table with his elbow on the surface and he hand extended out to Sam in an invitation to arm wrestle. He had Steve Buscemi's eyes and a "V for Vendetta" grin. Sam figured that this was all part of the show, so why not arm wrestle the dude. So she took his hand and proceed to pound him into the tablecloth like it was no big deal. He turned those big brown Steve Buscemi's to me in amazement and apparently decided that he needed greater leverage, so he slid himself onto my bench and extended his arm for a rematch -- staring at the tablecloth with his hand open and extended towards Sam, not saying a word. Naturally, Sam thought he let her win the first time, so they'd go for round two and about the time she almost had him down he's sling her hand back down like the large drunken Bavarian he was. However, yet again, Sam won with relative ease.....though waiting a bit this time to see if he'd fight back I think. He again turned to me in utter disbelief and uttered something to be in German that clearly meant, "Where did you find Olga, the strongest woman on Earth? Aren't you afraid for your life with this one?". Apparently, he hadn't had enough yet, so he put his arm down for round 3, at which point, Sam politely let him know that she was done. However, ole crazy eyes wasn't having any of that. He put his elbow down insistently and began squeezing the air as though to taunt Sam into a 3rd attempt. Sam looked at me and asked me to save her.....but what was I going to do? Push a (weird, but clearly friendly) drunken, traditionally-dressed, obviously regular patron of the establishment off the edge of our bench while we are in the largest Beer Hall in the world, surrounded by a number of other similarly clad charged up Bavarians? Clearly not. So we proceeded with round 3. And 4. And some ridiculous number more rounds. I had more or less figured that once our food came, this game would have to end. In the meantime, I was snapping as many pictures of this guy's game face as possible. At some point, a similarly large, traditionally dressed, white-bearded man came to our table looking at our new friend and he said something to us in German. I told him that I didn't speak German and he asked us in English if this guy was bothering us. We told him that he wasn't, but I think he could tell that it had gone on long enough. He made some polite small talk asking us where we were from. His English was quite impressive -- I guess I was surprised seeing as how he had to have been in at the least his late 60's. After a few moments, he said something to the crazed arm wrestler and took him buy the hand and gave him a gentle tug that let the guy know it was time to get up. At this point, I realized that this was probably his father and that rather than just being drunk, this guy was likely somewhat mentally challenged. I felt a little bad at having had some laughs at his expense -- but then, he was having as much fun as we were I think. And that brings me to my final thought about Bavarians.......they are MUCH friendlier than Berliners. In general, people were very, very nice to us in Bavaria. They immediately spoke English with us when they realized we didn't speak German and they seemed happy to do so. I certainly don't expect everyone to speak English -- we are, after all, in Germany. However, the people in Bavaria didn't seem as annoyed to converse with us in English as those in Berlin and they seemed happy to show us the local culture. In fact, when we couldn't find the Hofbrauhaus, Sam had asked a woman on the street. She didn't know it, but she worked in a hotel. She was clearly on her way home from work, but she insisted on turning around and walking us back to her hotel (seemingly almost half a mile) so she could bring us in and introduce us to the desk clerk who spoke some English and could tell us where to go. This is the Germany that you should see if you ever visit.
Oh -- and remember, no Leiberkasse.
Unfortunately, a lot of time has passed since my last entry.......but I neglected to finish my thoughts on Munich, so this will be a (brief) summary of our last few hours in Bavaria.
When we were on the bus to Dachau (you take a train to the won of Dachau and then a bus to the camp), an American on the bus asked to borrow my Rick Steves book. When she brought it back, she told us about a celebration in the center of town. Starting at 3pm, there was free beer and a huge celebration in the main square due to Munich's soccer team's triumph in the German league. Apparently, they won the championship. This became more apparent when we got back into the city, the train filled to the brim with people wearing jerseys, hats, and scarves. I saw more grown men than I could count who had winter scarves tied to both arms on a hot, almost 80-degree day. So I had to show my Munichian pride as well......Sammy let me buy a scarf to don for the celebration. It's not every day you're at the May version of Oktoberfest in Munich (known as Munchen in German btw).
So down to the main square we went.....though it was too packed to get anywhere near the middle (from whence the free beer must have flowed). We saw plenty of the free beer cups stacked high in many a Munichians hands though.....and many a paid-for beer bottle as well. Remember how there's no open container law? It comes in particularly handy when your soccer team wins the national championship.
Anyway, we walked around as best we could (though the main square was jammed) and heard the music and listened to thousands of Germans join in a raucous chorus or two of Sweet Caroline. Who would have known that Neil Diamond was popular enough to be the anthem of a victory party here in Germany? Unfortunately, I never blogged when we were in South America......but let me take this opportunity to also marvel at the immense popularity of Bob Marley anywhere within a 5 hour drive of sand and salt water. We went to coastal towns in Ecuador where clearly no one spoke more than 5 words of English ("yes", "no", and "good price for you!"). But they all bopped their heads to Bob. Even in a town where there was one straw hut beach bar after another and people Salsa-ed and Bachata-ed until the wee hours of the morning....any place that didn't mix in a Bob Marley tune or two or five throughout the night was definitely the exception rather than the rule.
That's going to lead me on a quick tangent of the power of American culture. I don't know as though the average American realizes the influence of American culture and tastes worldwide. Yes, I know Neil Diamond is Canadian. So is Johnny Favourite Swing Orchestra. Ever heard of them? Ya know why? They didn't have a big US hit. Anyway.......American music and fast food chains and corporations are just everywhere. It's really amazing sometimes when I realize how far our tastes reach. We were in the jungle hearing FloRida's "Low" and in shopping malls in Quito, Ecuador (where, again, very few people speak English) where the music was all American/British adult contemporary pop. That probably doesn't surprise you until you think about it. Imagine that you're a marginally well-to-do mall shopper in a major city in the US and you were in the mall......and all of the music was in Russian. Imagine you worked in the Gap and you didn't really understand a word of what was being said in the songs playing in your store all day long. Sure, I know that once in a great while we have a pop song that gets popular that's got some spanish in it. But "dame la gasoliiiiina" every once in a while isn't the same as an entire afternoon of listening to Phil Collins when you don't speak English. Yes, I know he's not American either. But hopefully you're getting my point. In Quito, we had Pizza Hut, Papa John's, Domino's, Tony Roma's, Applebee's, McDonald's, Burger King, Baskin Robins, KFC, Taco Bell, TGI Friday's, and Payless Shoes (which wasn't where you really went if you wanted to Pay Less.....paying less meant going to one of the MANY Chinese stores called "Hong Kong Almacen" or something like that were you could buy a pair of dress shoes or "Nike" sneakers for $7-$15 (fifteen would be really, really nice). In Costa Rica, so many American companies had large office buildings in industrial parks where companies like Western Union headquarter most of their accounting. In one park, I think we saw Western Union, Proctor & Gamble, Oracle, Microsoft, HP.....and several that I've forgotten. Though Starbucks doesn't sell coffee in Costa Rica, we saw their office in San Jose where they negotiate with their suppliers. In Colombia, we finally got a Subway Sub for the first time after about 7 months. And those are relatively poor countries (as compared to the US). In Ecuador, lunch was $1.50 at a local restaurant -- consisting of a large bowl of soup, a plate of rice with vegetables and meat, and a glass of juice. Yet people were willing to splurge on a $4 or $5 value meal at McDonald's. I have yet to see the village without Coca-Cola -- including at the top of the crater of a volcano at 12,000 feet where there weren't even enough houses to call it a village. They still had a convenience store that stocked Coke. It's amazing to realize that whether we are loved or hated in the world, the things that we produce are still in such high demand -- even in places where people have neither the need nor the means to consume them. While in some ways, I don't think this is all as bad as some people more liberal than I would tell you. But it worries me as to what will happen to smaller cultures around the world. One of the things I miss the most about Ecuador is flying around bends on mountain side roads with the bus driver blasting upbeat local music in Spanish at 2am. I worry that someday, that, too, will be gone. I hope it won't.
But anyway -- back to Munich. We weaved around the crowd and made our way to our key destination for nourishment -- Hofbrauhaus -- the most famous (and largest) Beer Hall in Germany and the World. During Oktoberfest, this is apparently the place to be. It's where Germans and tourists alike down copius amounts of German beer and they serve the finest of local cuisine. All of the beer except for White Beer (a local specialty made from Wheat) is only served in a 1L glass -- so more or less, you gotta drink a lot of beer. The place is said to pour 10,000 of the 1L glasses a day. Once of the more interesting things about Bavaria is that you get an interesting mix of people who look more or less the same as any average American......as well as the folks who still dress in the traditional suspenders/coveralls/Birkenstocks/etc. The Hofbrauhaus did not disappoint........
So Sam and I ordered some grub and as we were waiting, there was a band just finishing up their gig playing traditional Bavarian music. At some point, a large, happy, very traditionally dressed man (picture it down to the fedora-y type hat with a feather) leaned down onto our table with his elbow on the surface and he hand extended out to Sam in an invitation to arm wrestle. He had Steve Buscemi's eyes and a "V for Vendetta" grin. Sam figured that this was all part of the show, so why not arm wrestle the dude. So she took his hand and proceed to pound him into the tablecloth like it was no big deal. He turned those big brown Steve Buscemi's to me in amazement and apparently decided that he needed greater leverage, so he slid himself onto my bench and extended his arm for a rematch -- staring at the tablecloth with his hand open and extended towards Sam, not saying a word. Naturally, Sam thought he let her win the first time, so they'd go for round two and about the time she almost had him down he's sling her hand back down like the large drunken Bavarian he was. However, yet again, Sam won with relative ease.....though waiting a bit this time to see if he'd fight back I think. He again turned to me in utter disbelief and uttered something to be in German that clearly meant, "Where did you find Olga, the strongest woman on Earth? Aren't you afraid for your life with this one?". Apparently, he hadn't had enough yet, so he put his arm down for round 3, at which point, Sam politely let him know that she was done. However, ole crazy eyes wasn't having any of that. He put his elbow down insistently and began squeezing the air as though to taunt Sam into a 3rd attempt. Sam looked at me and asked me to save her.....but what was I going to do? Push a (weird, but clearly friendly) drunken, traditionally-dressed, obviously regular patron of the establishment off the edge of our bench while we are in the largest Beer Hall in the world, surrounded by a number of other similarly clad charged up Bavarians? Clearly not. So we proceeded with round 3. And 4. And some ridiculous number more rounds. I had more or less figured that once our food came, this game would have to end. In the meantime, I was snapping as many pictures of this guy's game face as possible. At some point, a similarly large, traditionally dressed, white-bearded man came to our table looking at our new friend and he said something to us in German. I told him that I didn't speak German and he asked us in English if this guy was bothering us. We told him that he wasn't, but I think he could tell that it had gone on long enough. He made some polite small talk asking us where we were from. His English was quite impressive -- I guess I was surprised seeing as how he had to have been in at the least his late 60's. After a few moments, he said something to the crazed arm wrestler and took him buy the hand and gave him a gentle tug that let the guy know it was time to get up. At this point, I realized that this was probably his father and that rather than just being drunk, this guy was likely somewhat mentally challenged. I felt a little bad at having had some laughs at his expense -- but then, he was having as much fun as we were I think. And that brings me to my final thought about Bavarians.......they are MUCH friendlier than Berliners. In general, people were very, very nice to us in Bavaria. They immediately spoke English with us when they realized we didn't speak German and they seemed happy to do so. I certainly don't expect everyone to speak English -- we are, after all, in Germany. However, the people in Bavaria didn't seem as annoyed to converse with us in English as those in Berlin and they seemed happy to show us the local culture. In fact, when we couldn't find the Hofbrauhaus, Sam had asked a woman on the street. She didn't know it, but she worked in a hotel. She was clearly on her way home from work, but she insisted on turning around and walking us back to her hotel (seemingly almost half a mile) so she could bring us in and introduce us to the desk clerk who spoke some English and could tell us where to go. This is the Germany that you should see if you ever visit.
Oh -- and remember, no Leiberkasse.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Munich - Part I
There were two distinctly different things I wanted to do in Munich, and one wasn't going to be possible on a Sunday. You can tour the BMW factory during the week, but not on weekends. So . . .
At the other end of the spectrum, we decided that we wanted to see Dachau Concentration Camp. Dachau is just outside of Munich -- accessible by the city train. It was the first Nazi Concentration Camp, opened in 1933. It was primarily a work camp -- it's focus was not the extermination of the jews but the forced slave labor of jews, political opponents, preists, and dissenters from conquered lands. Still, more than 30,000 people died and were incinerated in the crematorium at Dachau, and while paltry in comparison to the estimated 1.5 million who were murdered at Auschwitz, it is still horrible enough to make you feel sick.
I think the part that affected me most was the open area where roll call happened. I have seen this enough time in Hollywood movies to have a notion -- despite an inability to fully comprehend it -- of what it was like. To look at this wide open space and imagine the malnourished, the beaten, the broken, the slowly dying.....it was just powerful in a way I can't seem to capture right now. When the roll call number was not correct, prisoners sometimes had to stand motionless for hours while they looked for escapees or dead bodies. I could begin to try to describe the atrocities committed at Dachau as we learned from our tour of the place, but I know that I won't do justice to the history with my limited knowledge. You should look it up and read about it and remember it.
So touring Dachau was profoundly sad, but compelling and necessary. You have to give the Germans credit -- I don't think any other nation on Earth has documented and taken ownership of the atrocities it has committed the way that this country has. It is free to visit Dachau and with the plethora of documentation there, it is completely unnecessary to get any sort of tour. This is undoubtedly the way it should be as it has been made clear that the survivors wanted to be sure that no one would ever forget what happened there. I know that those people who will read this will likely never see Dachau or Auschwitz for themselves, but I can't help but implore you to make something so sad and scary and eerily close in history something that we continue to carry with us for generations as a reminder of our potential for evil.
Before going to Dachau, Sammy and I had already planned that Auschwitz would be one of the few things we wouldn't accept missing while we were in Europe. We both just think it's important to us to see it for ourselves. No amount of reading about it or seeing it in a movie compares to feeling what it's like to walk in the steps of history. I don't want to say that I'm excited about seeing Auscwitz, because that would be a mischaracterization. I think the best way to describe the feeling in words is to say that I am looking forward to contributing my eyes and mind to the cause of those who vow never to forget the atrocities committed in the name of the Nazi regime. I don't know why I am so powerfully affected by what happened in Nazi Germany - nor why I am so drawn to it. I am filled with a sense of overwhelming sadness when I honestly confront what happened to other human beings in these camps. Putting my mind in that place and trying to understand what it felt like to suffer, fear, and prepare to die in these camps is chilling yet also compelling. It fills me with a sense of responsibility to learn more and educate others so that no one can try to deny what happened or allow it to happen under our collective watch again. As we toured Dachau today, Sam asked me, "How long will it be before people stop caring about this?". I pondered the answer. The realist in me knows that at some point, what happened in Nazi Germany will be such a part of ancient history that it will be like learning of witches burned at the stake and the Spanish Inquisition -- things that we are taught were terrible but that seem so ancient and distant as to leave us unaffected if not disinterested. It deeply saddens me to know that this will become a fleeting moment in history -- but understanding it is so pivotal to our continued coexistence on this planet. After standing on ground depicted so horrifically in so many Hollywood movies -- and knowing that this was the place where those terrible things really happened -- I think a part of my soul will forever be engraved with it's memory. It's hard to ignore that power.
At the other end of the spectrum, we decided that we wanted to see Dachau Concentration Camp. Dachau is just outside of Munich -- accessible by the city train. It was the first Nazi Concentration Camp, opened in 1933. It was primarily a work camp -- it's focus was not the extermination of the jews but the forced slave labor of jews, political opponents, preists, and dissenters from conquered lands. Still, more than 30,000 people died and were incinerated in the crematorium at Dachau, and while paltry in comparison to the estimated 1.5 million who were murdered at Auschwitz, it is still horrible enough to make you feel sick.
I think the part that affected me most was the open area where roll call happened. I have seen this enough time in Hollywood movies to have a notion -- despite an inability to fully comprehend it -- of what it was like. To look at this wide open space and imagine the malnourished, the beaten, the broken, the slowly dying.....it was just powerful in a way I can't seem to capture right now. When the roll call number was not correct, prisoners sometimes had to stand motionless for hours while they looked for escapees or dead bodies. I could begin to try to describe the atrocities committed at Dachau as we learned from our tour of the place, but I know that I won't do justice to the history with my limited knowledge. You should look it up and read about it and remember it.
So touring Dachau was profoundly sad, but compelling and necessary. You have to give the Germans credit -- I don't think any other nation on Earth has documented and taken ownership of the atrocities it has committed the way that this country has. It is free to visit Dachau and with the plethora of documentation there, it is completely unnecessary to get any sort of tour. This is undoubtedly the way it should be as it has been made clear that the survivors wanted to be sure that no one would ever forget what happened there. I know that those people who will read this will likely never see Dachau or Auschwitz for themselves, but I can't help but implore you to make something so sad and scary and eerily close in history something that we continue to carry with us for generations as a reminder of our potential for evil.
Before going to Dachau, Sammy and I had already planned that Auschwitz would be one of the few things we wouldn't accept missing while we were in Europe. We both just think it's important to us to see it for ourselves. No amount of reading about it or seeing it in a movie compares to feeling what it's like to walk in the steps of history. I don't want to say that I'm excited about seeing Auscwitz, because that would be a mischaracterization. I think the best way to describe the feeling in words is to say that I am looking forward to contributing my eyes and mind to the cause of those who vow never to forget the atrocities committed in the name of the Nazi regime. I don't know why I am so powerfully affected by what happened in Nazi Germany - nor why I am so drawn to it. I am filled with a sense of overwhelming sadness when I honestly confront what happened to other human beings in these camps. Putting my mind in that place and trying to understand what it felt like to suffer, fear, and prepare to die in these camps is chilling yet also compelling. It fills me with a sense of responsibility to learn more and educate others so that no one can try to deny what happened or allow it to happen under our collective watch again. As we toured Dachau today, Sam asked me, "How long will it be before people stop caring about this?". I pondered the answer. The realist in me knows that at some point, what happened in Nazi Germany will be such a part of ancient history that it will be like learning of witches burned at the stake and the Spanish Inquisition -- things that we are taught were terrible but that seem so ancient and distant as to leave us unaffected if not disinterested. It deeply saddens me to know that this will become a fleeting moment in history -- but understanding it is so pivotal to our continued coexistence on this planet. After standing on ground depicted so horrifically in so many Hollywood movies -- and knowing that this was the place where those terrible things really happened -- I think a part of my soul will forever be engraved with it's memory. It's hard to ignore that power.
Saturday night, post-castles
We had half-thought to catch a night-train to Munich on Saturday night, but after researching prices of accomodations a bit, we opted to stay another night in Fussen. The train to Munich is only 2 hours, so as long as we were good about getting up early again, we could catch a 7am train that would put us in Munich by 9am. There wasn't much else to do in Fussen, so we thought we could spend Sunday in Munich during the day and catch a late train back to Berlin.
I wasn't really interested in paying quite as much as we had the night before in the guesthouse -- and nor did I want to hike the entire kilometer out to it and back to the train station at 6am. So we went to the Internet cafe and got online to look for some hostels. I found one with a website that said it was only 300m from the train station and the rates looked decent. That sounded like a much better option than walking more than half a mile in the morning. So off we went to find the Happy Sleep Hostel.
Yeah, that's right. The joint was called The Happy Sleep Hostel. We went to the door and as Sam tried to fiddle with the nob (it was closed and locked), a small, young Japanese woman opened the door. She looked a little frazzled and I wasn't sure that she was even working. But she spoke English and said that they had a room and it would be 23 Euro each -- significantly less expensive than the 35 each we had paid the night before. We were thrilled. We had to go get our bags from a locker at the train station and then we came back to the hostel. The woman came back down to let us in. She opened the door and Sam stepped by her and I was behind Sam. When you entered, there wasn't anywhere to go really except up the stairs, so I told Sam to start up. We both got a few steps up the stairs and then the woman told us that we could change into slippers any time we wanted -- and she pointed to the slipper shelves directly to the left of the staircase. Damn it -- that's twice now that we've screwed up with shoes. I immediately offered to change right away, but she got on the stairs behind us and said that later was fine. She sat us down to do the registration thing and pay and she showed us to our room -- Schloss Neuschwanstein. While we were registering, her son came out to run around -- a cute, energetic little kid (maybe 3 or 4 years old?). Anyway -- the room was clean and nice and even had a skylight. The bathrooms were separate from the rooms, as is often the case in hostels. This place probably had the cleanest bathrooms in hostel history and the tiniest one-toilet (no sink) bathroom ever seen. Also of note is the bed situation here in Germany. No where is there a bed bigger than a twin. Every place we've been to (even a Ramada) has just had two single beds pushed together. I guess it's for versatility -- but interesting nonetheless.
So we settled in to the Happy Sleep Hostel, got some dinner, and had a happy sleep for cheap.
I wasn't really interested in paying quite as much as we had the night before in the guesthouse -- and nor did I want to hike the entire kilometer out to it and back to the train station at 6am. So we went to the Internet cafe and got online to look for some hostels. I found one with a website that said it was only 300m from the train station and the rates looked decent. That sounded like a much better option than walking more than half a mile in the morning. So off we went to find the Happy Sleep Hostel.
Yeah, that's right. The joint was called The Happy Sleep Hostel. We went to the door and as Sam tried to fiddle with the nob (it was closed and locked), a small, young Japanese woman opened the door. She looked a little frazzled and I wasn't sure that she was even working. But she spoke English and said that they had a room and it would be 23 Euro each -- significantly less expensive than the 35 each we had paid the night before. We were thrilled. We had to go get our bags from a locker at the train station and then we came back to the hostel. The woman came back down to let us in. She opened the door and Sam stepped by her and I was behind Sam. When you entered, there wasn't anywhere to go really except up the stairs, so I told Sam to start up. We both got a few steps up the stairs and then the woman told us that we could change into slippers any time we wanted -- and she pointed to the slipper shelves directly to the left of the staircase. Damn it -- that's twice now that we've screwed up with shoes. I immediately offered to change right away, but she got on the stairs behind us and said that later was fine. She sat us down to do the registration thing and pay and she showed us to our room -- Schloss Neuschwanstein. While we were registering, her son came out to run around -- a cute, energetic little kid (maybe 3 or 4 years old?). Anyway -- the room was clean and nice and even had a skylight. The bathrooms were separate from the rooms, as is often the case in hostels. This place probably had the cleanest bathrooms in hostel history and the tiniest one-toilet (no sink) bathroom ever seen. Also of note is the bed situation here in Germany. No where is there a bed bigger than a twin. Every place we've been to (even a Ramada) has just had two single beds pushed together. I guess it's for versatility -- but interesting nonetheless.
So we settled in to the Happy Sleep Hostel, got some dinner, and had a happy sleep for cheap.
Saturday, May 8th, 2010 -- Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau Castles
When the alarm went off on Saturday morning, we awoke with a purpose. We had read stories about the ridiculously long lines for the two castles that we had come to this small Bavarian town to see. Word has gotten around -- we certainly aren't the only two tourists who come to see these castles. At this point, I should give some background.
So "Mad" King Ludwig II of Bavaria became king at the age of 18 sometime in the mid-1800's. More or less, he is known as Mad King Ludwig because everyone thought he was nuts -- and they were probably correct. He grew up with an obsession with Richard Wagner and his operas and their fairy-tale like storylines. His father, who preceeded him on the throne, had a small summer home/hunting castle here in the foothills of the German Alps (about 2 miles from Fussen). Ludwig grew up spending time in this castle, Hohenschwangau, and the walls were covered with paintings of fairy-tale stories. Between the paintings and the operas, he planned from an early age to build his own fairytale castle within view of his father's. When he became King, he started to do so. Neuschwanstein was his dream -- built in a medeivel style to resemble the stuff of fairytale dreams. This makes the result a little contrived -- it looks like something a lot older than it really is, but it isn't. But it does look just like a fairy tale -- mostly because this is purportedly the castle that inspired Walt Disney's own fantasyland Castle in Disneyland/DisneyWorld (the big Cinderella-y-castle in the Magic Kingdom). And it's not hard to imagine that. It is in one of the most picturesque settings imaginable and it looks like the stuff of knights in shining armour slaying dragons.
One thing I definitely learned this weekend is the drawing power of Disney. I mean, I've been to DisneyWorld. I know that it seems that half the world goes to Orlando at some point in their lives. If you've been on the line for the log ride on a hot day, as Sam and I have, you don't need me to tell you about the ability of Disney to draw people and sell tickets. However, allow me to try to add to our joint understanding. The castle inhabited by Ludwig's father is pretty small as castles go. Neither would take up more than a small corner of Prague castle. And Ludwig's fairy tale, Neuschwanstein, wasn't ever finished. Only about a third of the rooms are finished. The tours of each castle only last about 30 minutes. Yet some days they get 10,000 visitors. The old lady at the guest house told us that 1.5 million people visit every year -- making it the most visited castle in Europe. Considering the plethora of FINISHED castles that exist in Europe, the fact that this castle is the top draw is absolutely a testament to the way that Walt Disney has woven fairy tale dreams into the fabric of our being.
All that said, this place was not without merit. After all, it's no accident that this place inspired good ole Walt to give us those dreams. Both castles look like they come from a Walt Disney dream -- the intricate paintings, the ornate furnishings, the grandeur and fanfare all conspiring to force you to feel like a little kid in a dream world. Unfortunately, photographs aren't allowed in the castle (to make you buy theirs) -- but I'm sure if you google it, you'll find some depictions online. It's worth a peek. And as you'll see from our pictures, the countryside that these castles overlooks can only be described as majestic. Despite the fact that we would have liked to have been able to wander and linger a bit longer than the rushed tours allow, we were still thrilled to be there. More than anything else, I know I felt like I was finally seeing something I had seen in pictures and books for a long, long time -- and only imagined I'd someday see. The fact that this piece of my imaginings came true was enough to make me smile and wonder what other dreams might. In that sense, it lived up to Disney's promise -- when you wish upon a star, dreams come true . . . .
So "Mad" King Ludwig II of Bavaria became king at the age of 18 sometime in the mid-1800's. More or less, he is known as Mad King Ludwig because everyone thought he was nuts -- and they were probably correct. He grew up with an obsession with Richard Wagner and his operas and their fairy-tale like storylines. His father, who preceeded him on the throne, had a small summer home/hunting castle here in the foothills of the German Alps (about 2 miles from Fussen). Ludwig grew up spending time in this castle, Hohenschwangau, and the walls were covered with paintings of fairy-tale stories. Between the paintings and the operas, he planned from an early age to build his own fairytale castle within view of his father's. When he became King, he started to do so. Neuschwanstein was his dream -- built in a medeivel style to resemble the stuff of fairytale dreams. This makes the result a little contrived -- it looks like something a lot older than it really is, but it isn't. But it does look just like a fairy tale -- mostly because this is purportedly the castle that inspired Walt Disney's own fantasyland Castle in Disneyland/DisneyWorld (the big Cinderella-y-castle in the Magic Kingdom). And it's not hard to imagine that. It is in one of the most picturesque settings imaginable and it looks like the stuff of knights in shining armour slaying dragons.
One thing I definitely learned this weekend is the drawing power of Disney. I mean, I've been to DisneyWorld. I know that it seems that half the world goes to Orlando at some point in their lives. If you've been on the line for the log ride on a hot day, as Sam and I have, you don't need me to tell you about the ability of Disney to draw people and sell tickets. However, allow me to try to add to our joint understanding. The castle inhabited by Ludwig's father is pretty small as castles go. Neither would take up more than a small corner of Prague castle. And Ludwig's fairy tale, Neuschwanstein, wasn't ever finished. Only about a third of the rooms are finished. The tours of each castle only last about 30 minutes. Yet some days they get 10,000 visitors. The old lady at the guest house told us that 1.5 million people visit every year -- making it the most visited castle in Europe. Considering the plethora of FINISHED castles that exist in Europe, the fact that this castle is the top draw is absolutely a testament to the way that Walt Disney has woven fairy tale dreams into the fabric of our being.
All that said, this place was not without merit. After all, it's no accident that this place inspired good ole Walt to give us those dreams. Both castles look like they come from a Walt Disney dream -- the intricate paintings, the ornate furnishings, the grandeur and fanfare all conspiring to force you to feel like a little kid in a dream world. Unfortunately, photographs aren't allowed in the castle (to make you buy theirs) -- but I'm sure if you google it, you'll find some depictions online. It's worth a peek. And as you'll see from our pictures, the countryside that these castles overlooks can only be described as majestic. Despite the fact that we would have liked to have been able to wander and linger a bit longer than the rushed tours allow, we were still thrilled to be there. More than anything else, I know I felt like I was finally seeing something I had seen in pictures and books for a long, long time -- and only imagined I'd someday see. The fact that this piece of my imaginings came true was enough to make me smile and wonder what other dreams might. In that sense, it lived up to Disney's promise -- when you wish upon a star, dreams come true . . . .
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