Everything I said about measuring my time in a place and not knowing how to say goodbye... It's crap, total and complete crap, because to quote from No Country for Old Men, you can't stop what's coming. Sooner or later, those last 17 hours in Prague were going to pass and I'd be in line to check in with my 50 kg of luggage and 12 hours later I'd be in the States dismayed by the horrifically ugly people and the ugly accents and the ugly lack of culture. All good things come to an end, I guess. I couldn't stay in Prague forever. Does distance make the heart grow fonder? I feel like I left a bit of myself over in the Czech Republic. I feel like such a mess because everybody's study abroad experience has to come to an end because then it wouldn't be special. I don't know why I'm taking it worse than others. Am I? I have no idea.
So how do I measure six months? In friendships, in classes, in traveling, in new experiences and new places and new lessons, new books and new crises. Prague may frustrate me to death but I love it with every fiber of my being, and I'll miss it just as much. Na shledanou, Prague. It's been surreal.
Song of the century:
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Survivor: Prague
So I have around 17 hours left in Prague, and despite this summer pretty much sucking, I'm really profoundly sad about leaving this city. It's been my home for six months and even though I currently associate it with stress and exhaustion and drama, it's my home. For better or for worse, I know this city better than I know Miami, Coral Springs, or Coral Gables... maybe even New York at this point. The thing is, unlike when I left in May, I have no idea when I'll be back. Maybe next year if I'm lucky? Who knows. I'm walking around and trying to take it all in, but who knows if it'll stick. I've been on the verge of tears all day and even the smallest normalcy makes me emotional. It's also rainy and brutally hot, but that's Prague for you.
I did well on my two finals and my two term papers, but I've been busting my ass all week trying to do my 20-page paper on the German annexations of 1938. That's meant a ton of nights in the Globe downing coffee and contemplating offing myself. I haven't had a chance to properly enjoy this city, well, ever. Since I leave tomorrow, I had to get my affairs in order today... which means I'm not allowed to have fun since final Czech purchases must be made and belongings packed and rooms cleaned and packages mailed.
It's not like I'd know how to say goodbye to Prague anyway. To steal from Rent, how do you measure your time in a city? In bars, in cafes, in restaurants or tourist attractions? I'm so sick of Old Town Square that I could puke, and Wenceslas never really did it for me. I'll miss the familiarity, the excitement, the foreignness, and the novelty of it all. I'll miss the classes and the professors - the best I've ever had. I won't miss the stress, but I'm proud of what I've written and accomplished here. I might even go as far as saying that I've learned a bit about myself too.
So Amanda and I are the last ones here from Spring 2010, Erasmus and American groups included, and I feel like we've won a cracked-out version of Survivor: Prague. Do I win a million dollars... or at least a return ticket?
I did well on my two finals and my two term papers, but I've been busting my ass all week trying to do my 20-page paper on the German annexations of 1938. That's meant a ton of nights in the Globe downing coffee and contemplating offing myself. I haven't had a chance to properly enjoy this city, well, ever. Since I leave tomorrow, I had to get my affairs in order today... which means I'm not allowed to have fun since final Czech purchases must be made and belongings packed and rooms cleaned and packages mailed.
It's not like I'd know how to say goodbye to Prague anyway. To steal from Rent, how do you measure your time in a city? In bars, in cafes, in restaurants or tourist attractions? I'm so sick of Old Town Square that I could puke, and Wenceslas never really did it for me. I'll miss the familiarity, the excitement, the foreignness, and the novelty of it all. I'll miss the classes and the professors - the best I've ever had. I won't miss the stress, but I'm proud of what I've written and accomplished here. I might even go as far as saying that I've learned a bit about myself too.
So Amanda and I are the last ones here from Spring 2010, Erasmus and American groups included, and I feel like we've won a cracked-out version of Survivor: Prague. Do I win a million dollars... or at least a return ticket?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Three weeks in...
I know I've been slacking with the blog but I've been a little (a lot?) stressed. Taking three classes over the course of four weeks may have been a pretty bad idea, but I'm now in the trenches and attempting to make it out. No one really needs a daily update on my life (I slept! I ate! I got sick! I drank!), so I'll just give you the highlights of my summer in Prague.
THE WORLD CUP
Be still, my sports-hating heart. I know everyone who reads this knows I can't stand athletics in any form, but for some reason, I fall head-over-heels in love with the World Cup every four years. Maybe it's the fact that soccer/football is the one sport I've ever played, or maybe it's the fact that it lets me embrace my inner nationalist, but I live for the World Cup. I have vivid memories of sneaking off to watch matches during camp in 2006 (as my wife Ori Levy reminded me, the vivid memories are of us almost getting fired because we preferred to watch David Beckham over actually dealing with our campers. Sweet memories). Now, six hours ahead, I've gotten pretty lucky in that I've been able to make it to 90% of the matches I care about.
Hyundai set up a Fan Park in the middle of Old Town Square, which, for better or for worse, means I always knew what was happening. It was nice to not have to schlep out to a bar or something to watch. Amanda and I caught some of the daytime games at Riegrovy Sady, a lovely beer garden out in Prague 3, but most of our time was spent in Old Town.
The Dutch invaded Prague and let me join their ranks.
So yeah, I cheered for England and then they got rightfully crushed, and I cheered for Germany and then they got unfairly beaten, and then I went all the way for Holland and they lost in overtime. Maybe my support is the kiss of death. Who knows. But anyway, the World Cup let me make a lot of new friends and we bonded over our shared hatred of Germany... Argentina... Spain... and Spain again. It's a lovely thing.
LUCERNA
Lucerna holds 80s/90s night every weekend. Amanda and I have made it a tradition of pregaming, attending, and running shit. Because we can.
DRESDEN
I'm not sure what mental state we were in, but last Saturday morning, over a pathetically large breakfast feast at McDonald's, Amanda and I decided that it was a brilliant idea to go to Germany for the day. Her sister was there and I just wanted to see the west because for better or for worse, Prague is still kind of behind the Iron Curtain. We were still kind of buzzed when we bought the tickets and boarded the train, and it took a 2.5-hour-long train ride, riding backwards with no air at all, to sober up. Still, though, very glad we went-- Dresden is a lovely city and seeing my beloved American Apparel was wonderful. We even caught bits and pieces of the Germany-Uruguay game, which is kind of a half-assed version of my dream of going to Berlin for the final game had they made it to the end. Dresden for the third-place game is a bit of a cop-out, I guess.
MARRIAGE
I got engaged to my Italian friend Fede at his going-away party. Our love will forever be cemented by our wedding dance to "Single Ladies." Well, he liked it, and he put a grimy string ring on it at a grimy club. Fede, love, because I know you read my blog from time to time-- CALL ME. I want to come to Venezia in a week or so for our honeymoon. I want to make it happen.
SCHOOL
I'm going to quote Lady Gaga on this one:
"She's a mess. Now the girl is stressed. She's a mess. She's a mess. She's a mess. She's a mess."
One week left! Will I go to Munich? Brussels? Venice? Or will I actually stay in this painfully hot city and work? Only time will tell...
THE WORLD CUP
Be still, my sports-hating heart. I know everyone who reads this knows I can't stand athletics in any form, but for some reason, I fall head-over-heels in love with the World Cup every four years. Maybe it's the fact that soccer/football is the one sport I've ever played, or maybe it's the fact that it lets me embrace my inner nationalist, but I live for the World Cup. I have vivid memories of sneaking off to watch matches during camp in 2006 (as my wife Ori Levy reminded me, the vivid memories are of us almost getting fired because we preferred to watch David Beckham over actually dealing with our campers. Sweet memories). Now, six hours ahead, I've gotten pretty lucky in that I've been able to make it to 90% of the matches I care about.
Hyundai set up a Fan Park in the middle of Old Town Square, which, for better or for worse, means I always knew what was happening. It was nice to not have to schlep out to a bar or something to watch. Amanda and I caught some of the daytime games at Riegrovy Sady, a lovely beer garden out in Prague 3, but most of our time was spent in Old Town.
The Dutch invaded Prague and let me join their ranks.
So yeah, I cheered for England and then they got rightfully crushed, and I cheered for Germany and then they got unfairly beaten, and then I went all the way for Holland and they lost in overtime. Maybe my support is the kiss of death. Who knows. But anyway, the World Cup let me make a lot of new friends and we bonded over our shared hatred of Germany... Argentina... Spain... and Spain again. It's a lovely thing.
LUCERNA
Lucerna holds 80s/90s night every weekend. Amanda and I have made it a tradition of pregaming, attending, and running shit. Because we can.
DRESDEN
I'm not sure what mental state we were in, but last Saturday morning, over a pathetically large breakfast feast at McDonald's, Amanda and I decided that it was a brilliant idea to go to Germany for the day. Her sister was there and I just wanted to see the west because for better or for worse, Prague is still kind of behind the Iron Curtain. We were still kind of buzzed when we bought the tickets and boarded the train, and it took a 2.5-hour-long train ride, riding backwards with no air at all, to sober up. Still, though, very glad we went-- Dresden is a lovely city and seeing my beloved American Apparel was wonderful. We even caught bits and pieces of the Germany-Uruguay game, which is kind of a half-assed version of my dream of going to Berlin for the final game had they made it to the end. Dresden for the third-place game is a bit of a cop-out, I guess.
MARRIAGE
I got engaged to my Italian friend Fede at his going-away party. Our love will forever be cemented by our wedding dance to "Single Ladies." Well, he liked it, and he put a grimy string ring on it at a grimy club. Fede, love, because I know you read my blog from time to time-- CALL ME. I want to come to Venezia in a week or so for our honeymoon. I want to make it happen.
SCHOOL
I'm going to quote Lady Gaga on this one:
"She's a mess. Now the girl is stressed. She's a mess. She's a mess. She's a mess. She's a mess."
One week left! Will I go to Munich? Brussels? Venice? Or will I actually stay in this painfully hot city and work? Only time will tell...
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Everything old is new again
Dobrý den, my little monsters! Your fearless blogger is back in the land of no air conditioning and no deodorant, and guess what: IT'S FANTASTIC. I really couldn't be happier to be here -- this time around, the city is just perfect. Maybe it's the fact that I escaped the clutches of the Kolej, but I'm so, so, so in love with Prague. The weather is perfect, the people are not quite as frustrating, and EVERYTHING (and I really mean EVERYTHING) is within walking distance from my BEAUTIFUL APARTMENT.
I think the apartment makes all the difference. I'm living with a Russian journalist who is hilarious and slightly enigmatic so Amanda and I have had a ton of fun studying Kirill's way of life. I live two minutes from the Charles Bridge, four minutes from school, and maybe ten from Wenceslas Square. Compare that to 20-30+ to get from the Kolej to school, and I think we can all agree that this is a MAJOR FREAKING UPGRADE. I could live without the parade of loud drunks outside my window every night, but I guess this is what I get for living in Old Town -- a small, insignificant price to pay.
I really can't believe that I was ever worried about come back here. Everything about Prague feels so natural and normal and just like home, but in a way, everything old is new again. I appreciate being here so much more now that I can contrast it to a post-spring Florida, whereas before I only had slightly idealized memories of America to think of when I got frustrated with Prague. Really, though. This place might just be perfect. It's sunny from about 5 am-10 pm and cloudless and hot but not debilitatingly so. I know my way around now (obviously) and have a vague sense of the language, and I just never, ever want to leave.
So, a rundown of this week's activities:
Saturday: Arrive an hour late from Atlanta. Attack Amanda and Fede at airport. Collect my shit from around Prague. See GOSSIP at SaSaZu!!!! Get locked out and thus have to scream Kirill's name outside the window at 12:30.
Sunday: GET CARDED FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER IN PRAGUE. Went to Riegrovy Sady, a really cool beer garden in Vinohrady, to watch England get crushed by Germany... Sadness ensues. Finally found Smirnoff Ice in Prague. Hung with the Erasmus kids, who I really regret not meeting earlier, and then Amanda, after having left my apartment way earlier, came back at 2 am for a sleepover because her dorm is creepy.
Monday: First day of class. Of course I can't get my ID because my system data is screwed up, but Gaelle is fierce as hell and I found a kindred spirit in the only other ECES student, Sam. Took one class of Czech and decided that 3 credits were not worth my sanity. Dropped it.
Tuesday: Art history. Insufferable. No Professor Holub for politics. Sadness. Beautiful bonding time with Kirill, another sleepover with Amanda.
Wednesday: Tour of Prague Castle with class. Insufferable. Mitteleuropa is blowing my mind, and PROFESSOR HOLUB RETURNED!!!!!!!! Hare Krishnas prevented me from napping so I was really fresh as a daisy for class. Only not. But it happens. Took a long walk around the city center with Kirill after class. All was výborně.
Thursday: Oh God, some shit. Can't be bothered. Professor Holub took us to Anagram, I dorked out and bought a book about WWI, and I drank wine. Výborně.
Friday: Day was characterized by two major events: Žluté lázně and Lucerna, the first being the epic beach along the Vltava River and the second being the home of 80s-90s night. Žluté lázně is a huge riverside complex with restaurants and areas for sports and a TIKI BAR where I had to most wonderful Sex on the Beach at 11 am and I almost thought I was in the tropics save for the millions of Slavs surrounding me. Turns out that it was a top-optional beach, a tradition in which your fearless blogger may or may not have partaken. That's for me (and Amanda) to know and for you to ponder.
Lucerna was epic. That's all I have to say. Returning home at 7 a.m. is a new record for me.
Saturday: Holy hangover, Batman. We drag ourselves across the Charles Bridge to Bohemia Bagel where I contemplate dying. We then run back to Riegrovy Sady to watch Germany CRUSH Argentina (take that, Maradona!) and we then meet up with Fede at Old Town to watch Spain beat Portugal. I don't care how Euro-centric it is, I want Holland or Germany to take it all come Sunday. Too bad that the Czechs are still hurting from WW2 and therefore you can't find a single Germany jersey in this city.
Sunday: Radost for brunch with Sam and Amanda, schlep around Wenceslas Square and Palladium (oh H&M, I've missed you!). Camp out at Riegrovy Sady for a few hours, miss my beloved dog terribly. Potentially break my toe in the shower. Pass the fuck out.
Monday: Today. Hi. It's brutally hot here and there's no air conditioning so three hours of class is not fun despite the fact that Mitteleuropa is the most amazing class ever and I love the Habsburgs and Bismarck and it's all fantastic. Eat amazing, amazing, amazing food at this Lebanese-Indian restaurant near the Dancing House and then nearly die of heatstroke at a cafe. Heatwave, be gone. Now I'm here. At home. Writing. Contemplating buying an inflatable swimming pool and sticking it in the living room.
SONG OF THE WEEK:
I think the apartment makes all the difference. I'm living with a Russian journalist who is hilarious and slightly enigmatic so Amanda and I have had a ton of fun studying Kirill's way of life. I live two minutes from the Charles Bridge, four minutes from school, and maybe ten from Wenceslas Square. Compare that to 20-30+ to get from the Kolej to school, and I think we can all agree that this is a MAJOR FREAKING UPGRADE. I could live without the parade of loud drunks outside my window every night, but I guess this is what I get for living in Old Town -- a small, insignificant price to pay.
I really can't believe that I was ever worried about come back here. Everything about Prague feels so natural and normal and just like home, but in a way, everything old is new again. I appreciate being here so much more now that I can contrast it to a post-spring Florida, whereas before I only had slightly idealized memories of America to think of when I got frustrated with Prague. Really, though. This place might just be perfect. It's sunny from about 5 am-10 pm and cloudless and hot but not debilitatingly so. I know my way around now (obviously) and have a vague sense of the language, and I just never, ever want to leave.
So, a rundown of this week's activities:
Saturday: Arrive an hour late from Atlanta. Attack Amanda and Fede at airport. Collect my shit from around Prague. See GOSSIP at SaSaZu!!!! Get locked out and thus have to scream Kirill's name outside the window at 12:30.
Sunday: GET CARDED FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER IN PRAGUE. Went to Riegrovy Sady, a really cool beer garden in Vinohrady, to watch England get crushed by Germany... Sadness ensues. Finally found Smirnoff Ice in Prague. Hung with the Erasmus kids, who I really regret not meeting earlier, and then Amanda, after having left my apartment way earlier, came back at 2 am for a sleepover because her dorm is creepy.
Monday: First day of class. Of course I can't get my ID because my system data is screwed up, but Gaelle is fierce as hell and I found a kindred spirit in the only other ECES student, Sam. Took one class of Czech and decided that 3 credits were not worth my sanity. Dropped it.
Tuesday: Art history. Insufferable. No Professor Holub for politics. Sadness. Beautiful bonding time with Kirill, another sleepover with Amanda.
Wednesday: Tour of Prague Castle with class. Insufferable. Mitteleuropa is blowing my mind, and PROFESSOR HOLUB RETURNED!!!!!!!! Hare Krishnas prevented me from napping so I was really fresh as a daisy for class. Only not. But it happens. Took a long walk around the city center with Kirill after class. All was výborně.
Thursday: Oh God, some shit. Can't be bothered. Professor Holub took us to Anagram, I dorked out and bought a book about WWI, and I drank wine. Výborně.
Friday: Day was characterized by two major events: Žluté lázně and Lucerna, the first being the epic beach along the Vltava River and the second being the home of 80s-90s night. Žluté lázně is a huge riverside complex with restaurants and areas for sports and a TIKI BAR where I had to most wonderful Sex on the Beach at 11 am and I almost thought I was in the tropics save for the millions of Slavs surrounding me. Turns out that it was a top-optional beach, a tradition in which your fearless blogger may or may not have partaken. That's for me (and Amanda) to know and for you to ponder.
Lucerna was epic. That's all I have to say. Returning home at 7 a.m. is a new record for me.
Saturday: Holy hangover, Batman. We drag ourselves across the Charles Bridge to Bohemia Bagel where I contemplate dying. We then run back to Riegrovy Sady to watch Germany CRUSH Argentina (take that, Maradona!) and we then meet up with Fede at Old Town to watch Spain beat Portugal. I don't care how Euro-centric it is, I want Holland or Germany to take it all come Sunday. Too bad that the Czechs are still hurting from WW2 and therefore you can't find a single Germany jersey in this city.
Sunday: Radost for brunch with Sam and Amanda, schlep around Wenceslas Square and Palladium (oh H&M, I've missed you!). Camp out at Riegrovy Sady for a few hours, miss my beloved dog terribly. Potentially break my toe in the shower. Pass the fuck out.
Monday: Today. Hi. It's brutally hot here and there's no air conditioning so three hours of class is not fun despite the fact that Mitteleuropa is the most amazing class ever and I love the Habsburgs and Bismarck and it's all fantastic. Eat amazing, amazing, amazing food at this Lebanese-Indian restaurant near the Dancing House and then nearly die of heatstroke at a cafe. Heatwave, be gone. Now I'm here. At home. Writing. Contemplating buying an inflatable swimming pool and sticking it in the living room.
SONG OF THE WEEK:
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Get your towels ready; it's about to go down...
HI READERS!
So while I sit at home, die of boredom, and count the seconds until I'm back in Central Europe, I give you the latest and greatest in travel blogs: "one foot in sea and one on shore" or the blog currently known as KATEYBOAT.
Katey was my inimitable partner in crime last summer in New York and because we can never recreate the magic of summer '09, we're going our separate ways -- I'll be back in Prague (15 DAYS) and Katey will be on Semester at Sea's summer voyage around the Mediterranean! Which obviously means I hate her and am epically jealous, but as a good friend, I'm going to live vicariously through her wonderful, witty posts. You should too.
Hence, ladies and gentlemen, I give you KATEYBOAT.
(And scene.)
So while I sit at home, die of boredom, and count the seconds until I'm back in Central Europe, I give you the latest and greatest in travel blogs: "one foot in sea and one on shore" or the blog currently known as KATEYBOAT.
Katey was my inimitable partner in crime last summer in New York and because we can never recreate the magic of summer '09, we're going our separate ways -- I'll be back in Prague (15 DAYS) and Katey will be on Semester at Sea's summer voyage around the Mediterranean! Which obviously means I hate her and am epically jealous, but as a good friend, I'm going to live vicariously through her wonderful, witty posts. You should too.
Hence, ladies and gentlemen, I give you KATEYBOAT.
(And scene.)
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Every day a little death.
Was Sondheim thinking of Coral Springs when he wrote that song? I AM SO BORED.
My original goal was to read all the books I bought while abroad but there are far too many and any way, that requires the will to get out of bed and do something. Obviously that's a little too much to ask.
New goal? Learn Arabic. I'm all about feasibility, natch.
God, this place sucks.
My original goal was to read all the books I bought while abroad but there are far too many and any way, that requires the will to get out of bed and do something. Obviously that's a little too much to ask.
New goal? Learn Arabic. I'm all about feasibility, natch.
God, this place sucks.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The round-up
Sorry, guys. It’s been a long, long month that involved major illnesses, major hangovers, and major paper writing, so you didn’t get recaps of any of my final three trips. Luckily Coral Springs might be the most boring place on earth, so now I finally have time. Brace yourselves.
Turkey: The final Classroom Europe trip was to Istanbul, Turkey, possibly one of the coolest places ever. It was SUNNY AND WARM. Blah blah Hagia Sofia, Blue Mosque blah blah blah, IT WAS HOT AND SUNNY AND THEREFORE PERFECT. Turkish Airlines is decked out in Miami Vice-style colors, and the airplane wine rocks so I was perfectly happy. There are tulips everywhere and palm trees and the Mediterranean suddenly skyrocketed in my book. I roomed with Stephanie and Amanda and we got what was easily the best room in our awesome hotel: wrap-around balcony, views of the Blue Mosque and the Bosporous, and a Jacuzzi.
I kept trying to make comparisons to Jerusalem because it was heretofore the only place in the region I had been to before but it was too hard. The culture is kind of similar (everyone wants to feed you, always) but beyond that, it’s just too different. Istanbul is completely overwhelming and full of people and cars and noise and it’s fantastic but just kind of sensory overload. Did all the touristy stuff – Hagia Sofia, Blue Mosque, the stupid, overrated, overpriced Grand Bazaar – but I liked the Asian side of the city more, where it was more Turkish people and fewer Australian backpackers. Not that I don’t like Australian backpackers – I appreciate all citizens of the Commonwealth – but I like the less touristy parts of the city more. The Asian side of the city was super crowded and overwhelming and packed with people and we took a super-cool ferry to get there.
Everyone is super friendly, especially to girls. My trying to order takeaway coffee led to me and Amanda being invited to sit for coffee, ice cream, and Turkish delight by the Hagia Sofia for some time with a barista/soccer player. It’s incredibly rude to say no, so hey, what the hell, our tour group at Topkapi Palace would wait. Or not. But whatever. I got a few marriage proposals and a few phone numbers. Due to the possibility that I might have had pink eye, those numbers were never used, but it was nice.
Made it to Taksim Square where tons of police in riot gear were massing and because Samantha, Amanda and I didn’t speak any Turkish, we had no idea why. Turns out they were bracing themselves for a possible riot because President Obama was maybe/maybe not going to acknowledge the Armenian genocide, as it was the 95th anniversary of its inception (turns out he didn’t). I, for one, wanted to fulfill my lifelong dream of getting stuck in a nationalist riot but Samantha, as trip babysitter, wasn’t really feeling it. Wine happened instead, which is always a nice alternative. It was weird because the only women we ever saw out and about were European – Turkey is very secular but it’s still an Islamic society without the shariah law and all that fun stuff. Never saw Turkish women out at restaurants or anything, which was a bit disconcerting, but whatever.
England: Went to London for my birthday weekend: three shows, two days, one license to drink in EVERY STATE IN THE WORLD… except for the ones where alcohol is banned, but they don’t count.
The Real Thing, my Saturday matinee show, was one of the best productions I’ve ever seen, and that’s not just because Toby Stephens is outrageously hot and I had a front-row, center seat. It was beautiful and moving and three weeks later and I’m still a bit overcome by it, but two points to the Old Vic for a fantastic production.
Priscilla Queen of the Desert: I wasn’t as drunk as I hoped to be despite the strawberry daiquiri in my light-up martini glass, but the show was campy and fun and full of three of my favorite things: Australians, drag queens, and bad pop music. I loved it and can’t wait to see Will Swenson play Tick in New York.
Women Beware Women: No trip to London is complete without a pilgrimage to the National Theatre, home of my all-time favorite play, The History Boys. This one was even more special because this play starred Samuel Barnett, one of the original History Boys. I knew nothing about Jacobean drama but the play was fantastic, really sexy and also starring Dudley Dursey from Harry Potter so like my West Wing cast bingo, I can now check off another HP actor.
So I hoofed it to Victoria Station straight from the show, nearly missed my bus to Luton, made it to Luton, barely checked in on time, and oh wait, my flight’s delayed indefinitely due to volcanic ash. Cool. Oh, also, Wizz Air won’t let me board with my bag despite the fact that they said it was okay as a carry-on at check in. Douchebags. But whatever. Another $100 out the window. Wizz Air sucks, for the record, but God knows I’ll fly them again if I have to.
Germany: Went to Berlin (THIRD TIME) with Ryan for the day for the Lady Gaga concert. I’d tell you about the concert if I remembered any of it, but I don’t, so I’ll leave it at that. Forgot my camera battery in Prague so had the joyful experience of buying a new one at my handy electronics store at Potsdamer Platz. It was rainy and cold and I was dressed for weather that was 10 degrees warmer so it wasn’t a fantastic trip, but I made it to the villa at Wannsee so I at least got some history-dork cred out of it.
Prague: The last few weeks were miserable due to the impending end of the semester. I was sick and overtired a lot, and the volcanic ash kept Prague in an eternal winter of 40 degrees and rain, so I was really unhappy. I chose to write papers for all of my classes instead of taking final exams, so I found myself living in the Globe or Gloria Jean’s. I wrote 50-something pages total for four classes… 10 for Witness to History on the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, 18 for Classroom Europe on the German resistance under Hitler (8-10 pages were all that were required. I’m an overachiever, suck it), 7 for film that I really, honestly could not have cared less about, and 18 for Jewish history on anti-Jewish legislation in the Third Reich. To say that I’m exhausted now is the understatement of the century. Professor Holub, despite joking that I wrote a book, told me I should use my paper as the basis for my thesis so that was nice. It was refreshing to take history classes in which I actually learned something but UM wouldn’t be UM if I wasn’t outrageously frustrated by the crapiness of the history department.
Goodbyes sucked and I miss my friends immensely. The flight home was hellish because the night before I left, I suddenly came down with the Prague Plague and my (delayed) flight from Zurich to Miami consisted of me being too feverish/congested to read or watch TV, so I just listened to the same shitty music over and over again because I was too sick to work my iPod. I also thought I was going to get heat stroke with my sweatshirt on so I had the joyful experience of wearing a tacky Switzerland shirt I bought in Zurich. Everyone judged me. Damn you, classy Europeans. US customs also sucked because apparently I need to fill out 4,000 forms and then show them over and over again to different bitchy customs agents and apparently my baggage needs to be x-rayed because apparently I might be bringing in something sketchy from Central fucking Europe. Yeah, all that Czech garnet really needs to be declared. Suck it, Homeland Security. YEAH, I SAID IT. $20 says I’m now on the TSA watch list for that.
Coral Springs is outrageously boring and I’m beyond broke and still a little sick. I’m going back to Prague for summer session in t-minus 24 days but it won’t be the same without my friends. Maybe I’ll actually see the sun this time around? One can only hope.
Turkey: The final Classroom Europe trip was to Istanbul, Turkey, possibly one of the coolest places ever. It was SUNNY AND WARM. Blah blah Hagia Sofia, Blue Mosque blah blah blah, IT WAS HOT AND SUNNY AND THEREFORE PERFECT. Turkish Airlines is decked out in Miami Vice-style colors, and the airplane wine rocks so I was perfectly happy. There are tulips everywhere and palm trees and the Mediterranean suddenly skyrocketed in my book. I roomed with Stephanie and Amanda and we got what was easily the best room in our awesome hotel: wrap-around balcony, views of the Blue Mosque and the Bosporous, and a Jacuzzi.
I kept trying to make comparisons to Jerusalem because it was heretofore the only place in the region I had been to before but it was too hard. The culture is kind of similar (everyone wants to feed you, always) but beyond that, it’s just too different. Istanbul is completely overwhelming and full of people and cars and noise and it’s fantastic but just kind of sensory overload. Did all the touristy stuff – Hagia Sofia, Blue Mosque, the stupid, overrated, overpriced Grand Bazaar – but I liked the Asian side of the city more, where it was more Turkish people and fewer Australian backpackers. Not that I don’t like Australian backpackers – I appreciate all citizens of the Commonwealth – but I like the less touristy parts of the city more. The Asian side of the city was super crowded and overwhelming and packed with people and we took a super-cool ferry to get there.
Everyone is super friendly, especially to girls. My trying to order takeaway coffee led to me and Amanda being invited to sit for coffee, ice cream, and Turkish delight by the Hagia Sofia for some time with a barista/soccer player. It’s incredibly rude to say no, so hey, what the hell, our tour group at Topkapi Palace would wait. Or not. But whatever. I got a few marriage proposals and a few phone numbers. Due to the possibility that I might have had pink eye, those numbers were never used, but it was nice.
Made it to Taksim Square where tons of police in riot gear were massing and because Samantha, Amanda and I didn’t speak any Turkish, we had no idea why. Turns out they were bracing themselves for a possible riot because President Obama was maybe/maybe not going to acknowledge the Armenian genocide, as it was the 95th anniversary of its inception (turns out he didn’t). I, for one, wanted to fulfill my lifelong dream of getting stuck in a nationalist riot but Samantha, as trip babysitter, wasn’t really feeling it. Wine happened instead, which is always a nice alternative. It was weird because the only women we ever saw out and about were European – Turkey is very secular but it’s still an Islamic society without the shariah law and all that fun stuff. Never saw Turkish women out at restaurants or anything, which was a bit disconcerting, but whatever.
England: Went to London for my birthday weekend: three shows, two days, one license to drink in EVERY STATE IN THE WORLD… except for the ones where alcohol is banned, but they don’t count.
The Real Thing, my Saturday matinee show, was one of the best productions I’ve ever seen, and that’s not just because Toby Stephens is outrageously hot and I had a front-row, center seat. It was beautiful and moving and three weeks later and I’m still a bit overcome by it, but two points to the Old Vic for a fantastic production.
Priscilla Queen of the Desert: I wasn’t as drunk as I hoped to be despite the strawberry daiquiri in my light-up martini glass, but the show was campy and fun and full of three of my favorite things: Australians, drag queens, and bad pop music. I loved it and can’t wait to see Will Swenson play Tick in New York.
Women Beware Women: No trip to London is complete without a pilgrimage to the National Theatre, home of my all-time favorite play, The History Boys. This one was even more special because this play starred Samuel Barnett, one of the original History Boys. I knew nothing about Jacobean drama but the play was fantastic, really sexy and also starring Dudley Dursey from Harry Potter so like my West Wing cast bingo, I can now check off another HP actor.
So I hoofed it to Victoria Station straight from the show, nearly missed my bus to Luton, made it to Luton, barely checked in on time, and oh wait, my flight’s delayed indefinitely due to volcanic ash. Cool. Oh, also, Wizz Air won’t let me board with my bag despite the fact that they said it was okay as a carry-on at check in. Douchebags. But whatever. Another $100 out the window. Wizz Air sucks, for the record, but God knows I’ll fly them again if I have to.
Germany: Went to Berlin (THIRD TIME) with Ryan for the day for the Lady Gaga concert. I’d tell you about the concert if I remembered any of it, but I don’t, so I’ll leave it at that. Forgot my camera battery in Prague so had the joyful experience of buying a new one at my handy electronics store at Potsdamer Platz. It was rainy and cold and I was dressed for weather that was 10 degrees warmer so it wasn’t a fantastic trip, but I made it to the villa at Wannsee so I at least got some history-dork cred out of it.
Prague: The last few weeks were miserable due to the impending end of the semester. I was sick and overtired a lot, and the volcanic ash kept Prague in an eternal winter of 40 degrees and rain, so I was really unhappy. I chose to write papers for all of my classes instead of taking final exams, so I found myself living in the Globe or Gloria Jean’s. I wrote 50-something pages total for four classes… 10 for Witness to History on the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, 18 for Classroom Europe on the German resistance under Hitler (8-10 pages were all that were required. I’m an overachiever, suck it), 7 for film that I really, honestly could not have cared less about, and 18 for Jewish history on anti-Jewish legislation in the Third Reich. To say that I’m exhausted now is the understatement of the century. Professor Holub, despite joking that I wrote a book, told me I should use my paper as the basis for my thesis so that was nice. It was refreshing to take history classes in which I actually learned something but UM wouldn’t be UM if I wasn’t outrageously frustrated by the crapiness of the history department.
Goodbyes sucked and I miss my friends immensely. The flight home was hellish because the night before I left, I suddenly came down with the Prague Plague and my (delayed) flight from Zurich to Miami consisted of me being too feverish/congested to read or watch TV, so I just listened to the same shitty music over and over again because I was too sick to work my iPod. I also thought I was going to get heat stroke with my sweatshirt on so I had the joyful experience of wearing a tacky Switzerland shirt I bought in Zurich. Everyone judged me. Damn you, classy Europeans. US customs also sucked because apparently I need to fill out 4,000 forms and then show them over and over again to different bitchy customs agents and apparently my baggage needs to be x-rayed because apparently I might be bringing in something sketchy from Central fucking Europe. Yeah, all that Czech garnet really needs to be declared. Suck it, Homeland Security. YEAH, I SAID IT. $20 says I’m now on the TSA watch list for that.
Coral Springs is outrageously boring and I’m beyond broke and still a little sick. I’m going back to Prague for summer session in t-minus 24 days but it won’t be the same without my friends. Maybe I’ll actually see the sun this time around? One can only hope.
Coral Springs, home of nothing
Big activity of the day: laying in bed and yelling "I'm bored" for ten minutes straight.
Who the hell would actually choose to live in a suburb? It's beyond my comprehension.
Who the hell would actually choose to live in a suburb? It's beyond my comprehension.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Home?
Samantha said a few months ago that I would wake up on May 23rd and think that the past few months were all a dream. Frankly, it didn't even take that long for me to start doubting that I had lived in Prague for four months and traveled all over the continent... an innumerable number of cities, 11 countries, and 2 continents, and all I have to show for it are passport stamps, five bags to unpack, and outrageous debt.
But I loved it. I loved every second of it, so much that I'm going back in a month. The sadness is debilitating. Prague - a place I was in maybe 30 hours ago - seems like a lifetime ago. Coral Springs never really felt like home anyway, and if home is where the heart is, it's Prague.
But I loved it. I loved every second of it, so much that I'm going back in a month. The sadness is debilitating. Prague - a place I was in maybe 30 hours ago - seems like a lifetime ago. Coral Springs never really felt like home anyway, and if home is where the heart is, it's Prague.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Six days?
I went to Turkey and London and Berlin and I'll get to all of those tomorrow but the weird thing is that I just started packing.
How odd.
How odd.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Birthday Abroad
Turning 21 in a place like Prague is a little weird. The only significance that it has back home - the ability to drink legally - is completely lost in Europe. Considering that I think that the Czechs put beer in baby bottles for infants, drinking is definitely imbued in the culture - in fact, it pretty much is the culture. I still had a really good birthday, though, and have the souvenir hangover to prove it.
Woke up to the dulcet tones of the dorm manager yelling at me. Thanks, Petra. Tried to do work in my room because the weather was gross outside, failed when I tried to double-fist wine and coffee (I'M LEGAL EVERYWHERE NOW). Dragged myself to the Globe around 4 p.m. to do my Classroom Europe paper; Becca and Brittany joined me and Kim around 7:30 for a birthday dinner of joy and delight. Stayed there until 10:30 or so and returned to the other dorm, thinking that we'd be going to a gay club or something just for fun, but no, we were destined for the big Erasmus foam party. Donned a lovely workout outfit of t-shirt, shorts and sneakers for the messy, undignified, shameful night that was to come and headed out to SaSaZu.
Foam fell, dignity was lost, and shots were ripped. I turned 21 officially in Eastern Standard Time so now there's no arguing about my age (as my mom insisted, it wasn't my birthday until 12:40 a.m. on May 7), made it back to the other dorm at like 4 and was up at 8 to watch Becca miss her train to Salzburg. Possible best part of the night? Running into my film professor and his wife on the metro while holding an open box of white wine while slightly drunk and wearing workout clothes.
Birthday celebrations continue with London this weekend and BERLIN FOR LADY GAGA!!! on Tuesday.
Woke up to the dulcet tones of the dorm manager yelling at me. Thanks, Petra. Tried to do work in my room because the weather was gross outside, failed when I tried to double-fist wine and coffee (I'M LEGAL EVERYWHERE NOW). Dragged myself to the Globe around 4 p.m. to do my Classroom Europe paper; Becca and Brittany joined me and Kim around 7:30 for a birthday dinner of joy and delight. Stayed there until 10:30 or so and returned to the other dorm, thinking that we'd be going to a gay club or something just for fun, but no, we were destined for the big Erasmus foam party. Donned a lovely workout outfit of t-shirt, shorts and sneakers for the messy, undignified, shameful night that was to come and headed out to SaSaZu.
Foam fell, dignity was lost, and shots were ripped. I turned 21 officially in Eastern Standard Time so now there's no arguing about my age (as my mom insisted, it wasn't my birthday until 12:40 a.m. on May 7), made it back to the other dorm at like 4 and was up at 8 to watch Becca miss her train to Salzburg. Possible best part of the night? Running into my film professor and his wife on the metro while holding an open box of white wine while slightly drunk and wearing workout clothes.
Birthday celebrations continue with London this weekend and BERLIN FOR LADY GAGA!!! on Tuesday.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Czech Bureaucracy
Today I got to experience the best, or perhaps most famous, part of the Czech Republic and its storied history: bureaucracy.
Because my student visa expires two weeks from Saturday, and of course the office is closed Friday, and there is no way that I will go to the stupid Czech Foreign Police office on my freaking birthday, today was the day to go suffer the indignity of extending my visa.
A bus to the sketchiest part of Prague, where there was no English but plenty of Russian, and a decent map got me to the Czech Foreign Police office at 11:30. At 12:30, I was seen.
They don't speak a word of English there.
Luckily, a godsend of a 20-something New Yorker appeared with fluent knowledge of the Czech language. She helped me correct my form because it wasn't bureaucratically "correct" (word choice). She looks through my forms, mumbles something incoherently in Czech, and asks for my passport.
My passport is in my dorm room.
After I start gesticulating wildly and almost dry heave, the New Yorker starts babbling in Czech, probably begging her to take pity on the pathetic, helpless American in front of her. If she didn't take it then, I wouldn't have made it by the deadline, and I wouldn't have had a visa. While there's no law a la Arizona, I don't particularly enjoy being an illegal alien.
She took the fucking forms.
I, meanwhile, nearly cry again and there are deukujus all around. Apparently I need a form filled out by my "landlord" (whatever, one of the Komenskehoes will do it) and two passport pictures but I SURVIVED THE FUCKING CZECH FOREIGN POLICE OFFICE.
I will now drink.
(PS- Turkey post is still forthcoming. Calm yourselves, dear readers.)
Because my student visa expires two weeks from Saturday, and of course the office is closed Friday, and there is no way that I will go to the stupid Czech Foreign Police office on my freaking birthday, today was the day to go suffer the indignity of extending my visa.
A bus to the sketchiest part of Prague, where there was no English but plenty of Russian, and a decent map got me to the Czech Foreign Police office at 11:30. At 12:30, I was seen.
They don't speak a word of English there.
Luckily, a godsend of a 20-something New Yorker appeared with fluent knowledge of the Czech language. She helped me correct my form because it wasn't bureaucratically "correct" (word choice). She looks through my forms, mumbles something incoherently in Czech, and asks for my passport.
My passport is in my dorm room.
After I start gesticulating wildly and almost dry heave, the New Yorker starts babbling in Czech, probably begging her to take pity on the pathetic, helpless American in front of her. If she didn't take it then, I wouldn't have made it by the deadline, and I wouldn't have had a visa. While there's no law a la Arizona, I don't particularly enjoy being an illegal alien.
She took the fucking forms.
I, meanwhile, nearly cry again and there are deukujus all around. Apparently I need a form filled out by my "landlord" (whatever, one of the Komenskehoes will do it) and two passport pictures but I SURVIVED THE FUCKING CZECH FOREIGN POLICE OFFICE.
I will now drink.
(PS- Turkey post is still forthcoming. Calm yourselves, dear readers.)
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Europe vs. the Volcano
I spent the past weekend in Amsterdam. Due to a certain minor volcanic eruption, I could have been spending a lot longer in Amsterdam. I probably should've stayed considering how unproductive I've been since returning to Prague but hey, whatever.
I paid $39 for a train ticket to Amsterdam so I braced myself for a 16-hour ride of joy and comfort. Some lessons were learned:
1. Never get onto a long-haul train thinking there will be a food cart just because the Hogwarts Express has one.
2. Don't assume that just because your compartment is empty for five and a half hours that it'll stay empty once you hit Berlin.
3. Don't ever, ever, ever get onto a train without food.
Okay. So. Sixteen hours and one frozen neck later, I arrive in Amsterdam. It's GORGEOUS and sunny and the best weather I've seen all semester. As a city Amsterdam reminds me of Copenhagen, only not shitty, pretentious, or full of douchebags. But anyway.
After settling in and blowing off a CNN report on a volcanic eruption in Iceland, I attempted to find my way to the Central Station to meet up for a free walking tour of the city. Ended up bonding with Lia, a girl from Canada traveling after her semester abroad. I wound up hanging out with her for the rest of the day, alternately dragging each other in bookstores and coffee shops and just kind of wandering. We wound up in the red light district at night and I can safely say that I've never felt that uncomfortable in my life; I don't care if the women working there are cool with it, I've just never felt so awkward before.
Day two was a bit more productive. Started figuring out that my flight from Brussels probably wasn't going to happen so I booked a $160 train ticket back across the continent to Prague. I really wanted to give up my $20, one-hour flight from Belgium, I can assure you. At one point there was a three-hour-long wait to talk to the international ticketing people in the station; the police were guarding the entrance and weren't letting anyone else in. Cool, volcano.
I started the morning at the Anne Frank House, and it was probably my favorite part of Amsterdam. It's one thing to read the diary and then it's another to actually walk the stairs, see the bookcase, be in their rooms-- it was really affecting and emotional. Normally historical sites don't really do it for me (case in point: Auschwitz) but there was something about being in the annex that got to me.
Visited the Dutch Resistance Museum and then kind of bummed around Rembrandtsplein before going to the Jewish History Museum and then to see Chloe (by the way? SUCKED). The Jewish History Museum had a painting by Marc Chagall, one of my favorite painters ever, and I didn't expect to just kind of stumble upon it so it was a really, really nice surprise.
Went to the Van Gogh Museum at night for their extended hours; they had a DJ and a bartender and it was a grand ol' party for everyone there except for the humorless Japanese tourists. The museum was really cool but none of my favorite paintings were there so I found it a little hard to get excited about "Sunflowers". Met up with Kim and two other Praguers afterward, booked the train ticket home.
I was supposed to go to The Hague on Saturday and continue on to Brussels but plans change, volcanoes erupt, the usual. Wound up going to the Rijksmuseum and then kind of bumming around. I bought a tourist card so I had a free canal cruise that I promptly fell asleep on because I hadn't had time to get coffee so COOL. I was pretty disappointing to not be going to The Hague because I just wanted to see the International Court of Justice and "Girl With A Pearl Earring" but I suppose both will always be around. Played with three different dogs in the English-language bookstore! I love Amsterdam and could definitely see myself living there in the future because God knows my path does not involve any more South Florida than is absolutely necessary.
The train ride home mildly blew. The compartment was completely packed but at least I slept, I think, for most of the ride. A ton of people are still stuck in various places around the continent so I'm just really happy to be home. I probably should have done the irresponsible thing by staying in Amsterdam but whatever.
So, fun things in Prague:
1. Everyone in my study abroad program got a notice from the Czech foreign police saying that our American health insurance was no longer good and if we didn't buy Czech-certified insurance within five days they'd start the deportation process. We all got the insurance but it's been a bit of a hilarious mess.
2. The volcano erupted and now our flight to Istanbul on Thursday is in doubt. THANKS, Eyjafjallajökull.
3. Both beds in my room have bedbugs. I slept on the floor of another room with my snuggie and a towel-as-pillow. NOTHING IS REAL.
4. I need to start the visa extension process because I desperately want to say this summer. C'est la vie.
Song of the weekend:
I paid $39 for a train ticket to Amsterdam so I braced myself for a 16-hour ride of joy and comfort. Some lessons were learned:
1. Never get onto a long-haul train thinking there will be a food cart just because the Hogwarts Express has one.
2. Don't assume that just because your compartment is empty for five and a half hours that it'll stay empty once you hit Berlin.
3. Don't ever, ever, ever get onto a train without food.
Okay. So. Sixteen hours and one frozen neck later, I arrive in Amsterdam. It's GORGEOUS and sunny and the best weather I've seen all semester. As a city Amsterdam reminds me of Copenhagen, only not shitty, pretentious, or full of douchebags. But anyway.
After settling in and blowing off a CNN report on a volcanic eruption in Iceland, I attempted to find my way to the Central Station to meet up for a free walking tour of the city. Ended up bonding with Lia, a girl from Canada traveling after her semester abroad. I wound up hanging out with her for the rest of the day, alternately dragging each other in bookstores and coffee shops and just kind of wandering. We wound up in the red light district at night and I can safely say that I've never felt that uncomfortable in my life; I don't care if the women working there are cool with it, I've just never felt so awkward before.
Day two was a bit more productive. Started figuring out that my flight from Brussels probably wasn't going to happen so I booked a $160 train ticket back across the continent to Prague. I really wanted to give up my $20, one-hour flight from Belgium, I can assure you. At one point there was a three-hour-long wait to talk to the international ticketing people in the station; the police were guarding the entrance and weren't letting anyone else in. Cool, volcano.
I started the morning at the Anne Frank House, and it was probably my favorite part of Amsterdam. It's one thing to read the diary and then it's another to actually walk the stairs, see the bookcase, be in their rooms-- it was really affecting and emotional. Normally historical sites don't really do it for me (case in point: Auschwitz) but there was something about being in the annex that got to me.
Visited the Dutch Resistance Museum and then kind of bummed around Rembrandtsplein before going to the Jewish History Museum and then to see Chloe (by the way? SUCKED). The Jewish History Museum had a painting by Marc Chagall, one of my favorite painters ever, and I didn't expect to just kind of stumble upon it so it was a really, really nice surprise.
Went to the Van Gogh Museum at night for their extended hours; they had a DJ and a bartender and it was a grand ol' party for everyone there except for the humorless Japanese tourists. The museum was really cool but none of my favorite paintings were there so I found it a little hard to get excited about "Sunflowers". Met up with Kim and two other Praguers afterward, booked the train ticket home.
I was supposed to go to The Hague on Saturday and continue on to Brussels but plans change, volcanoes erupt, the usual. Wound up going to the Rijksmuseum and then kind of bumming around. I bought a tourist card so I had a free canal cruise that I promptly fell asleep on because I hadn't had time to get coffee so COOL. I was pretty disappointing to not be going to The Hague because I just wanted to see the International Court of Justice and "Girl With A Pearl Earring" but I suppose both will always be around. Played with three different dogs in the English-language bookstore! I love Amsterdam and could definitely see myself living there in the future because God knows my path does not involve any more South Florida than is absolutely necessary.
The train ride home mildly blew. The compartment was completely packed but at least I slept, I think, for most of the ride. A ton of people are still stuck in various places around the continent so I'm just really happy to be home. I probably should have done the irresponsible thing by staying in Amsterdam but whatever.
So, fun things in Prague:
1. Everyone in my study abroad program got a notice from the Czech foreign police saying that our American health insurance was no longer good and if we didn't buy Czech-certified insurance within five days they'd start the deportation process. We all got the insurance but it's been a bit of a hilarious mess.
2. The volcano erupted and now our flight to Istanbul on Thursday is in doubt. THANKS, Eyjafjallajökull.
3. Both beds in my room have bedbugs. I slept on the floor of another room with my snuggie and a towel-as-pillow. NOTHING IS REAL.
4. I need to start the visa extension process because I desperately want to say this summer. C'est la vie.
Song of the weekend:
Friday, April 16, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Austria: Shots were ripped
This past weekend was the long-awaited Classroom Europe trip to Salzburg and Vienna. First stop after our trek through the surprisingly pretty southern Bohemian region was Český Krumlov, a very tiny town that no one knew why we were stopping in until we got there. IT'S BEAUTIFUL and medieval with a castle and little cobblestone, twisting streets and I really can't stress enough how happy I was that we stopped there. We ate at a fairly legitimate vegetarian restaurant right on the river so despite the hypothermia that ensued we had a fairly solid evening.
Next stop (after three hours of driving) was Salzburg. Austria has the prettiest countryside I've ever seen (ride to Neuschwanstein excluded because no place will ever top that). It's hilly and green and there are little rivers running through it and random castles just stuck on the sides of mountains and it's incredible. Salzburg was really, really beautiful; it's completely surrounded by mountains and of course The Sound of Music was filmed in the area so there were plenty of sites to dork out over.
The biggest dork moment came from visiting Mozart's former home. Amadeus is one of my favorite plays and movies and I just love his music, so seeing the room he was born in and then things like his violin and wallet and even a lock of his hair was just incredible, and it really humanized him, I think.
Ambassador Holub led us up the hill to the fortress overlooking the entire city. I hate to say it but I'm completely out of shape and I can't keep doing these uphill climbs. It's a little sad how winded I keep getting every time I have to do one of these walks. Pathetic.
ANYWAY. Four hours and one viewing of Amadeus later, we're in Vienna. It's pretty dark and we don't see very much going into the city center, but it's clean and that's lovely. Ambassador Holub, the fountain of all knowledge, leads us on a little tour to the very center and then leaves us to our own devices. Overpriced alcohol is consumed and Amanda and I wander home.
Saturday is the day of Jiří leading us around Vienna. We ask him how many times he's been to Vienna: "twenty years, a hundred times maybe." How many languages does he speak? He won't even tell us, but he teaches in five. That he knows my name is an a huge point of pride; that he remembers my interests and calls me aside to tell me about something that might interest me is an honor above all else.
At the OSCE--
Ambassador Holub: You should get a picture with the flags. I take it.
Me: Oh no, it's okay.
Ambassador Holub: No. You go, ja?
Me: Sure.
That actually happened.
Anyway. We saw the Museum of Fine Arts, and while I wasn't a huge fan of the paintings exhibited there, the Egyptian and Greco-Roman collections were incredible, and it's worth a visit if only for the building itself because it is GORGEOUS. Went to Cafe Central, which, according to Wikipedia, is kind of a big deal: "Key regulars included: Peter Altenberg, Theodor Herzl, Alfred Adler, Egon Friedell, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Anton Kuh, Adolf Loos, Leo Perutz, Alfred Polgar and Leon Trotsky. In January 1913 alone, Josip Broz Tito, Sigmund Freud, Adolf Hitler, Vladimir Lenin, and Leon Trotsky (the latter two being regulars) were patrons of the establishment." So, you know, I'm glad I could keep the tradition alive.
Went to Hundertwasser afterward and got caught up in the kitsch, and then a small group of us went to Grinzing, a vineyard within the city limits. Wine was consumed and that's all I have to say on the matter. Ambassador Holub bought us cheese. Every time I think he can't get any more adorable, he just destroys that notion. Afterward was an AMAZING dinner at my new favorite restaurant, Vapiano (Samantha, if you're reading this, THANK YOU). Jitka, the ECES director, bought us wine. Jitka also threw back shots like a pro this weekend.
Sunday wasn't particularly eventful save for the trip to Schönbrunn Palace, which might be my favorite now. It's really, really, really pretty and not as oppressive or overwhelming as Versailles, and it's definitely prettier than Kronborg.
I think I might like Salzburg more than Vienna, but Vienna's still really beautiful. Berlin might be my favorite city thus far for inexplicable reason, and I think if nothing else materializes for this summer (and by nothing else, I mean the BBC calling and begging me to come work for the news bureau) I might stay in Prague and take classes. Who would have thought? Parents (father, really), if you're reading this, let's talk about money soon.
Oh, and apparently I'll be deported in five days if I don't get Czech-certified health insurance.
Next stop (after three hours of driving) was Salzburg. Austria has the prettiest countryside I've ever seen (ride to Neuschwanstein excluded because no place will ever top that). It's hilly and green and there are little rivers running through it and random castles just stuck on the sides of mountains and it's incredible. Salzburg was really, really beautiful; it's completely surrounded by mountains and of course The Sound of Music was filmed in the area so there were plenty of sites to dork out over.
The biggest dork moment came from visiting Mozart's former home. Amadeus is one of my favorite plays and movies and I just love his music, so seeing the room he was born in and then things like his violin and wallet and even a lock of his hair was just incredible, and it really humanized him, I think.
Ambassador Holub led us up the hill to the fortress overlooking the entire city. I hate to say it but I'm completely out of shape and I can't keep doing these uphill climbs. It's a little sad how winded I keep getting every time I have to do one of these walks. Pathetic.
ANYWAY. Four hours and one viewing of Amadeus later, we're in Vienna. It's pretty dark and we don't see very much going into the city center, but it's clean and that's lovely. Ambassador Holub, the fountain of all knowledge, leads us on a little tour to the very center and then leaves us to our own devices. Overpriced alcohol is consumed and Amanda and I wander home.
Saturday is the day of Jiří leading us around Vienna. We ask him how many times he's been to Vienna: "twenty years, a hundred times maybe." How many languages does he speak? He won't even tell us, but he teaches in five. That he knows my name is an a huge point of pride; that he remembers my interests and calls me aside to tell me about something that might interest me is an honor above all else.
At the OSCE--
Ambassador Holub: You should get a picture with the flags. I take it.
Me: Oh no, it's okay.
Ambassador Holub: No. You go, ja?
Me: Sure.
That actually happened.
Anyway. We saw the Museum of Fine Arts, and while I wasn't a huge fan of the paintings exhibited there, the Egyptian and Greco-Roman collections were incredible, and it's worth a visit if only for the building itself because it is GORGEOUS. Went to Cafe Central, which, according to Wikipedia, is kind of a big deal: "Key regulars included: Peter Altenberg, Theodor Herzl, Alfred Adler, Egon Friedell, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Anton Kuh, Adolf Loos, Leo Perutz, Alfred Polgar and Leon Trotsky. In January 1913 alone, Josip Broz Tito, Sigmund Freud, Adolf Hitler, Vladimir Lenin, and Leon Trotsky (the latter two being regulars) were patrons of the establishment." So, you know, I'm glad I could keep the tradition alive.
Went to Hundertwasser afterward and got caught up in the kitsch, and then a small group of us went to Grinzing, a vineyard within the city limits. Wine was consumed and that's all I have to say on the matter. Ambassador Holub bought us cheese. Every time I think he can't get any more adorable, he just destroys that notion. Afterward was an AMAZING dinner at my new favorite restaurant, Vapiano (Samantha, if you're reading this, THANK YOU). Jitka, the ECES director, bought us wine. Jitka also threw back shots like a pro this weekend.
Sunday wasn't particularly eventful save for the trip to Schönbrunn Palace, which might be my favorite now. It's really, really, really pretty and not as oppressive or overwhelming as Versailles, and it's definitely prettier than Kronborg.
I think I might like Salzburg more than Vienna, but Vienna's still really beautiful. Berlin might be my favorite city thus far for inexplicable reason, and I think if nothing else materializes for this summer (and by nothing else, I mean the BBC calling and begging me to come work for the news bureau) I might stay in Prague and take classes. Who would have thought? Parents (father, really), if you're reading this, let's talk about money soon.
Oh, and apparently I'll be deported in five days if I don't get Czech-certified health insurance.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Obamania
So Presidents Obama and Medvedev are gracing Prague with their presence to sign a treaty today, and security has increased a thousand-fold. Can't move anywhere between my tram stop and basically the river, but it's cool. In playing motorcade bingo, I've now seen the Czech president's and Russian president's motorcades, and was almost mowed down by the latter.
While I'm sad that I can't stalk my commander in chief, I'm really not that bummed because he's not doing any public appearances while here... and honestly, I'll never get closer to the man than I was when this picture was taken:
While I'm sad that I can't stalk my commander in chief, I'm really not that bummed because he's not doing any public appearances while here... and honestly, I'll never get closer to the man than I was when this picture was taken:
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Money, Money, Money
I know that most people I know, my family especially, think that I have no concept of money. It's not true at all. Yes, I have a bit of a shopping problem but I know that and try to temper the issue. Urban Outfitters is a weakness, and I come home from trips with far too many souvenirs to count. I accept the shitty exchange rate between the British pound and the Euro with a shrug because, hey, what can you do?
I hit my breaking point in Denmark. There's no reason on Earth that the dollar should be so terrible against another currency, or that prices should be so high. My favorites from my 2.5 days in Copenhagen:
$20 for a 24-hour transportation pass
$8 for a coffee
$19 for a movie ticket
$20 for a book
$14 for falafel/soda
$4 for a water
$40 for dinner that wasn't McDonald's
$4 for a 7-11 slurpee (justifiable)
$65-80 for an emergency pair of jeans at Urban Outfitters
I've never had such a miserable time in a beautiful city, but because of this, I have no desire to ever return to Denmark. I couldn't even make it to Norway because of this. The Starbucks barista said that either her location or the Moscow one was the most expensive in the world. Every cashier who empathized with me only said "if you think this is bad, don't go to Norway." I was supposed to head to Oslo last night. COOL.
I hit my breaking point in Denmark. There's no reason on Earth that the dollar should be so terrible against another currency, or that prices should be so high. My favorites from my 2.5 days in Copenhagen:
$20 for a 24-hour transportation pass
$8 for a coffee
$19 for a movie ticket
$20 for a book
$14 for falafel/soda
$4 for a water
$40 for dinner that wasn't McDonald's
$4 for a 7-11 slurpee (justifiable)
$65-80 for an emergency pair of jeans at Urban Outfitters
I've never had such a miserable time in a beautiful city, but because of this, I have no desire to ever return to Denmark. I couldn't even make it to Norway because of this. The Starbucks barista said that either her location or the Moscow one was the most expensive in the world. Every cashier who empathized with me only said "if you think this is bad, don't go to Norway." I was supposed to head to Oslo last night. COOL.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
What fresh hell is this? Denmark.
I’m going to be as blunt as humanly possible. Copenhagen is a beautiful, beautiful city; Denmark is an impossibly gorgeous country. But I swear to fucking God, I’ve never been so excited to leave a fucking place as I am to leave Denmark. This is the first city I’ve been to that I’ve given no thought to regarding moving here in the future.
It’s not because everyone is blond and I think Urban Outfitters got a government contract to dress the entire country and thus this is the most hipster-tastic place I’ve ever seen. It’s not because I’m traveling by myself, which is incredibly liberating and actually quite nice. It’s because I’ve never, ever been to such an expensive place in my life. I’m weeping for the Euro. I’m dying for the British pound. I CANNOT AFFORD TO BREATHE HERE. This is why, after much deliberation and crying in the handbag department of the Danish Harrod’s, I’m cutting short this Scandinavian adventure. I’m NOT going to Oslo tonight. I’m spending one more night in this Godforsaken city and then going back to where I can afford shit. $7 for a coffee is not okay. $25 for a one-day transportation pass is not okay. I won’t even provide figures for the bookstore and for Urban Outfitters because those will shock and astound even the most hardened of travelers. This is my punishment for something, somewhere that I did. I paid $4 for a bottle of soda before. $6 for the breakfast meal at McDonald’s. God forbid I want a veggie burger at Burger King because that will cost me far, far too much.
So yeah, no Norway tonight. I’m a little disappointed but between not feeling well and being traumatized by Scandinavia, I’m spending one more night, probably sleeping or drinking my glass of straight Cointreau (it’s that kind of day), I can’t go on. I said to the cashier at the bookstore that I had never seen such an expensive country before. She just laughed and said “don’t go to Norway.” WELL, FUCK. I WAS GOING TO NORWAY. But I’ve decimated my finances and honestly, simply eating for two days in Oslo at their lower-end establishments will put me in the red for months to come. Nothing will be open anyway. Fuck.
Anyway, Copenhagen is gorgeous and right on the water (so therefore FREEZING) and I went on two day trips to Hamlet’s castle at Helsingor and then to the Viking Ship Museum at Roskilde so I got out of here and then I walked everywhere else but fuck, I can’t wait to be back in Prague. Copenhagen was actually my back-up city for study abroad and I can’t imagine living here – I’d be bored to death and broke on day two.
I walked around on Thursday with my Portuguese roommate; I saw the Latin Quarter and Stroget, the main shopping area (oh, the entire city was closed Thursday and Friday as kind of a practice for Easter), and I went to Christianshavn and saw what should have been the hippie commune but I guess they take off the workdays before Easter too, so it was essentially me, the hipsters, and the two 7-11 stores on every block. It rained. I froze. I saw “The Ghostwriter” for $17 and loved it. Tivoli is closed for the season. I hate Copenhagen.
Friday: I went to Helsingor and saw Kronborg Castle, which was cool, and came back. Went to the Danish Resistance Museum (very cool), walked to where the Little Mermaid statue should have been but, oh wait, it’s in Shanghai for the World Expo, went to Amalienborg, saw where Hans Christian Andersen lived, went to the Jewish Museum, walked by the Royal Library, read for two hours in a coffee shop after spending $5 for espresso, and went to see “Green Zone” for, oh wait, $19. I still hate Copenhagen.
Today: I checked out early, decided to go to Roskilde (20 minutes outside Copenhagen) to see the Viking Ship Museum, was impressed by the ships, and oh hey, Roskilde is a suburban backwater so the bus to the train station came once every hour and I had just missed it. I walked back and forth between the two bus stops hoping that one would come later in the hour, but no, I was stuck until 12:11 at the earliest. This was 11:15. I was stuck in some horrible Nordic nightmare that I couldn’t escape. Finally made it back to Copenhagen and nearly wept when I saw someone with an Urban Outfitters bag. Spent $20 on a new book because I killed all my reading material. Nearly vomited when I saw how Urban Outfitters marked up their prices. Ate fantastic falafel. Proceeded to call my mom, wept over my migraine and the fact that I had 70 hours left of this little mini-break, and decided to cut it short because if I can’t afford Copenhagen, there was no fucking way on earth that I’d emerge with a credit limit in Oslo. This made me miss Malmo extensively because while the Swedish kronor was terrible against the dollar, it wasn’t as bad as Denmark. I actually really enjoyed Malmo – sure, I was bored after 20 minutes of walking and the highlight of my time there was my trip to H&M but it was beautiful and quaint and Sweden is way more likable than Denmark for whatever reason.
Anyway. Plans have changed and I frankly can’t handle another two days of traveling between my actual physical state (unending migraine that the Cointreau probably isn’t helping) and my financial trauma, so it’s Copenhagen for the night and back to Prague tomorrow. I might hug someone with a mullet just for comfort’s sake. It’s been real, Denmark, but I’ll see you in hell.
It’s not because everyone is blond and I think Urban Outfitters got a government contract to dress the entire country and thus this is the most hipster-tastic place I’ve ever seen. It’s not because I’m traveling by myself, which is incredibly liberating and actually quite nice. It’s because I’ve never, ever been to such an expensive place in my life. I’m weeping for the Euro. I’m dying for the British pound. I CANNOT AFFORD TO BREATHE HERE. This is why, after much deliberation and crying in the handbag department of the Danish Harrod’s, I’m cutting short this Scandinavian adventure. I’m NOT going to Oslo tonight. I’m spending one more night in this Godforsaken city and then going back to where I can afford shit. $7 for a coffee is not okay. $25 for a one-day transportation pass is not okay. I won’t even provide figures for the bookstore and for Urban Outfitters because those will shock and astound even the most hardened of travelers. This is my punishment for something, somewhere that I did. I paid $4 for a bottle of soda before. $6 for the breakfast meal at McDonald’s. God forbid I want a veggie burger at Burger King because that will cost me far, far too much.
So yeah, no Norway tonight. I’m a little disappointed but between not feeling well and being traumatized by Scandinavia, I’m spending one more night, probably sleeping or drinking my glass of straight Cointreau (it’s that kind of day), I can’t go on. I said to the cashier at the bookstore that I had never seen such an expensive country before. She just laughed and said “don’t go to Norway.” WELL, FUCK. I WAS GOING TO NORWAY. But I’ve decimated my finances and honestly, simply eating for two days in Oslo at their lower-end establishments will put me in the red for months to come. Nothing will be open anyway. Fuck.
Anyway, Copenhagen is gorgeous and right on the water (so therefore FREEZING) and I went on two day trips to Hamlet’s castle at Helsingor and then to the Viking Ship Museum at Roskilde so I got out of here and then I walked everywhere else but fuck, I can’t wait to be back in Prague. Copenhagen was actually my back-up city for study abroad and I can’t imagine living here – I’d be bored to death and broke on day two.
I walked around on Thursday with my Portuguese roommate; I saw the Latin Quarter and Stroget, the main shopping area (oh, the entire city was closed Thursday and Friday as kind of a practice for Easter), and I went to Christianshavn and saw what should have been the hippie commune but I guess they take off the workdays before Easter too, so it was essentially me, the hipsters, and the two 7-11 stores on every block. It rained. I froze. I saw “The Ghostwriter” for $17 and loved it. Tivoli is closed for the season. I hate Copenhagen.
Friday: I went to Helsingor and saw Kronborg Castle, which was cool, and came back. Went to the Danish Resistance Museum (very cool), walked to where the Little Mermaid statue should have been but, oh wait, it’s in Shanghai for the World Expo, went to Amalienborg, saw where Hans Christian Andersen lived, went to the Jewish Museum, walked by the Royal Library, read for two hours in a coffee shop after spending $5 for espresso, and went to see “Green Zone” for, oh wait, $19. I still hate Copenhagen.
Today: I checked out early, decided to go to Roskilde (20 minutes outside Copenhagen) to see the Viking Ship Museum, was impressed by the ships, and oh hey, Roskilde is a suburban backwater so the bus to the train station came once every hour and I had just missed it. I walked back and forth between the two bus stops hoping that one would come later in the hour, but no, I was stuck until 12:11 at the earliest. This was 11:15. I was stuck in some horrible Nordic nightmare that I couldn’t escape. Finally made it back to Copenhagen and nearly wept when I saw someone with an Urban Outfitters bag. Spent $20 on a new book because I killed all my reading material. Nearly vomited when I saw how Urban Outfitters marked up their prices. Ate fantastic falafel. Proceeded to call my mom, wept over my migraine and the fact that I had 70 hours left of this little mini-break, and decided to cut it short because if I can’t afford Copenhagen, there was no fucking way on earth that I’d emerge with a credit limit in Oslo. This made me miss Malmo extensively because while the Swedish kronor was terrible against the dollar, it wasn’t as bad as Denmark. I actually really enjoyed Malmo – sure, I was bored after 20 minutes of walking and the highlight of my time there was my trip to H&M but it was beautiful and quaint and Sweden is way more likable than Denmark for whatever reason.
Anyway. Plans have changed and I frankly can’t handle another two days of traveling between my actual physical state (unending migraine that the Cointreau probably isn’t helping) and my financial trauma, so it’s Copenhagen for the night and back to Prague tomorrow. I might hug someone with a mullet just for comfort’s sake. It’s been real, Denmark, but I’ll see you in hell.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sarah and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
I'm in Sweden. That's a plus.
I'm in Malmö and nothing's open. Minuses.
I had to fight, cry, scream, and bitch to get a refund on my thermal tights and am basically the ugliest American in Central Europe. A big, embarrassing minus. I also forgot to pack more than one pair of jeans, barely made my flight thanks to Prague's heinous gridlock, and got to experience the joy of paying Wizz Air's checked baggage fee. Minuses all around.
There's a petting zoo in Old Town Square in Prague and I paid 20 crowns for feed and played with two sheep and a donkey. The donkey and I are now friends. Plusses all around.
I didn't realize that traveling over Easter will leave me with very little to do or see in Oslo because nothing will be open. Guess I'm doing a lot of aimless wandering. Fuck. Big minus.
The petting zoo ruled, though.
BEST FRIENDS.
I'm in Malmö and nothing's open. Minuses.
I had to fight, cry, scream, and bitch to get a refund on my thermal tights and am basically the ugliest American in Central Europe. A big, embarrassing minus. I also forgot to pack more than one pair of jeans, barely made my flight thanks to Prague's heinous gridlock, and got to experience the joy of paying Wizz Air's checked baggage fee. Minuses all around.
There's a petting zoo in Old Town Square in Prague and I paid 20 crowns for feed and played with two sheep and a donkey. The donkey and I are now friends. Plusses all around.
I didn't realize that traveling over Easter will leave me with very little to do or see in Oslo because nothing will be open. Guess I'm doing a lot of aimless wandering. Fuck. Big minus.
The petting zoo ruled, though.
BEST FRIENDS.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Guess who's back, back again...
I realized I never actually updated about Berlin, part zwei, so here I go:
Friday: Five-hour bus ride. Own room at hostel. Walk to Reichstag; lose everyone accidentally by Brandenburg Gate so head to dinner and Potsdamer Platz. Drink heavily. H&M! Buy new iPod headphones, weep at price. DIRTY DANCING: DAS ORIGINAL. Best time of my life. Dance in seat. Keep drinking heavily. Walk to Bendlerblock for reflection/possible stroke of genius re: my research paper. Fail at having any divine inspiration. Walk to Brandenburg Gate for nighttime picture. Fail at finding TXL bus back to West Berlin to the hostel, have intense German lesson with adorable cab driver.
Saturday: Bus tour due to rain. Visit KaDeWe (German Harrod's), am shocked by prices. Go to Potsdamer Platz; take Samantha to Führerbunker and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, buy book at Potsdamer Platz mall, eat too much sushi. Go to Checkpoint Charlie. Buy linen bag. Take long route back with Ambassador Holub & co.; group starts to drop like flies. Make it to Bebelplatz FINALLY. See infamous plaque. Visit St. Hedwig's Cathedral. Go to Galeries Lafayette, do not purchase Longchamp despite advantage price with Euro. Visit 4,238 bookstores. Refrain from purchasing books. Go to Film Museum back at Potsdamer Platz; purchase new book. Dinner. Wine. Wine. Wine. Wine. Wine. Old Jewish Cemetery and Neue Synagogue; Alexanderplatz! Hostel.
Sunday: Tour of Cecilienhof Palace; do not pose for picture a la Truman/Churchill/Stalin. See Wannsee on way to Potsdam. Dresden! Am depressed by Dresden. Home.
Long story short: I adore Berlin and will move there someday. Really. It will happen. Am going back for Lady Gaga on May 11, may purchase apartment then. Meanwhile, I go to Scandinavia for my Easter spectacular tomorrow night. Wish me luck, dear readers.
Friday: Five-hour bus ride. Own room at hostel. Walk to Reichstag; lose everyone accidentally by Brandenburg Gate so head to dinner and Potsdamer Platz. Drink heavily. H&M! Buy new iPod headphones, weep at price. DIRTY DANCING: DAS ORIGINAL. Best time of my life. Dance in seat. Keep drinking heavily. Walk to Bendlerblock for reflection/possible stroke of genius re: my research paper. Fail at having any divine inspiration. Walk to Brandenburg Gate for nighttime picture. Fail at finding TXL bus back to West Berlin to the hostel, have intense German lesson with adorable cab driver.
Saturday: Bus tour due to rain. Visit KaDeWe (German Harrod's), am shocked by prices. Go to Potsdamer Platz; take Samantha to Führerbunker and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, buy book at Potsdamer Platz mall, eat too much sushi. Go to Checkpoint Charlie. Buy linen bag. Take long route back with Ambassador Holub & co.; group starts to drop like flies. Make it to Bebelplatz FINALLY. See infamous plaque. Visit St. Hedwig's Cathedral. Go to Galeries Lafayette, do not purchase Longchamp despite advantage price with Euro. Visit 4,238 bookstores. Refrain from purchasing books. Go to Film Museum back at Potsdamer Platz; purchase new book. Dinner. Wine. Wine. Wine. Wine. Wine. Old Jewish Cemetery and Neue Synagogue; Alexanderplatz! Hostel.
Sunday: Tour of Cecilienhof Palace; do not pose for picture a la Truman/Churchill/Stalin. See Wannsee on way to Potsdam. Dresden! Am depressed by Dresden. Home.
Long story short: I adore Berlin and will move there someday. Really. It will happen. Am going back for Lady Gaga on May 11, may purchase apartment then. Meanwhile, I go to Scandinavia for my Easter spectacular tomorrow night. Wish me luck, dear readers.
Friday, March 26, 2010
"Mein Baby gehört zu mir, ist das klar?"
So clearly I'm a glutton for punishment as I went to go see Dirty Dancing: Das Original Live On Stage tonight in Berlin at the Theater am Potsdamer Platz. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson with foreign-language plays (I'm still traumatized by A Doll's House in Paris) but no, I booked a ticket for Dirty Dancing and here I am, now a veteran of the German musical.
It was absolutely fabulous.
The difference is that, well, the first play I saw was by Henrik freaking Ibsen, and I had never read it or seen it so I was miserable and tired and lost. This, while no Sondheim show, was Dirty Dancing: Das Movie verbatim, and for that I am eternally grateful. Literally word for word (translated), scene for scene, it was exactly the same. Maybe two songs of fifteen were in German. The dialogue was in German but the songs were all in English (clearly learned phonetically by some cast members). I was outrageously drunk, and thus, it was the most incredible time. Part of the reason is because I bought overpriced Riesling but I had factored that requirement into the show-going experience.
It was actually better seeing a show in German because I was pleasantly surprised by how much I understood, whereas in France I was just bitter and disappointed that my A in French 101 didn't let me understand Audrey Tatou doing Ibsen. Also, too bad that the actor playing Johnny was a Teutonic, gayer Cheyenne Jackson with tighter pants and was wholly unbelievable in the role, but whatever. It was DIRTY DANCING: DAS ORIGINAL. I loved every ridiculous second of it. I still love Berlin. ICH BIN EINE BERLINER. I love this city.
It was absolutely fabulous.
The difference is that, well, the first play I saw was by Henrik freaking Ibsen, and I had never read it or seen it so I was miserable and tired and lost. This, while no Sondheim show, was Dirty Dancing: Das Movie verbatim, and for that I am eternally grateful. Literally word for word (translated), scene for scene, it was exactly the same. Maybe two songs of fifteen were in German. The dialogue was in German but the songs were all in English (clearly learned phonetically by some cast members). I was outrageously drunk, and thus, it was the most incredible time. Part of the reason is because I bought overpriced Riesling but I had factored that requirement into the show-going experience.
It was actually better seeing a show in German because I was pleasantly surprised by how much I understood, whereas in France I was just bitter and disappointed that my A in French 101 didn't let me understand Audrey Tatou doing Ibsen. Also, too bad that the actor playing Johnny was a Teutonic, gayer Cheyenne Jackson with tighter pants and was wholly unbelievable in the role, but whatever. It was DIRTY DANCING: DAS ORIGINAL. I loved every ridiculous second of it. I still love Berlin. ICH BIN EINE BERLINER. I love this city.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
You give me fever/heat stroke...
It's 66 degrees Fahrenheit in Prague today. I can't stress how freaking weird this is because I'm walking around in leggings and flip flops. People are tanning. I've seen more hairy arm pits in tank tops today than ever before, and deodorant is still a foreign concept.
It's also the first day I've felt really content in Prague.
Weird.
It's also the first day I've felt really content in Prague.
Weird.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Ich bin ein day tripper.
So Tory's been here for almost five days and I've been doing all the touristy things with him that I've been putting off for the past six weeks. We've been to the top of Petrin Hill on Klaus' disco funicular, explored Prague Castle, basically moved into the Globe for brunch and happy hour purposes, went to the malls repeatedly, finally saw Nine together, found another English-language bookstore, crossed the Charles Bridge, saw the Lennon Wall, enjoyed Malostranská, and visited the Kafka Museum.
We ran out of stuff to do by Wednesday.
Hence why I dragged him, slightly kicking and screaming, across the border to Berlin for what is coming to be known as Klaus' disco day trip. Took a bus that left at 11:55 Wednesday night and arrived just before 5 a.m. on Thursday. We went pretty much non-stop at that point and honestly, I think I'm out of stuff to do in Berlin. Considering we were physically in Berlin for all of 14.5 hours, I think we did a pretty admirable job. I've turned seeing a week's worth of stuff in a day or two into an art form.
We took the U-bahn in from the bus station, made it to Alexanderplatz, realized that nothing would be open at 5 a.m. and thusly headed to the Hauptbahnhof. Had a lovely breakfast at McDonald's, the only place open, and booked our tickets home in broken German. From there we took the LONG way (unknowingly) to the Brandenburg Gate. The Brandenburg Gate is way smaller than I had pictured it to be, but it's right next to the U.S. Embassy and we briefly considered going in and asking for a map. Consular services have been extended to help quasi-backpackers.
We kind of stumbled upon the Reichstag accidentally and just beat the line to go up into the weird, modern dome on top. The audio guide, dubbed Sir Lee, gave us a fairly thorough explanation of the landmarks visible from the dome but literally as we were leaving the line had tripled ten-fold. This still doesn't top the line that we passed on our way back to the train station in the evening where it looked like it was about to go off the Reichstag's property, but it was pretty epic.
We found our way to the Holocaust memorial, which is more or less a bunch of stone cubes of various sizes and, of course, very much open to interpretation. Berlin, like Munich, certainly isn't trying to hide its role in the Holocaust; in fact, by the philharmonic, there is a sign and very large plaque regarding the fact that the T4 Aktion murders took place on that spot. The spot of Hitler's bunker was near there so we found our way and it's just a large parking lot with yet another plaque. Must be weird to park your BMW or live in what I'm sure is prime real estate over Hitler's bunker, but that's the charm (?) of Germany, I guess.
We wandered down Unter den Linden to Bebelplatz, where the first major book burning occurred in 1933 (and upon doing further research, we didn't actually go into the actual platz, so no points to me or Tory). We went from there over the river and through the rest of Berlin where we made it to Alexanderplatz and then decided to go to Wombat's, pretend we were staying there and jack a free map or two. Our diabolical scheme worked and I got the most amazing falafel since Israel. Point one, Germany.
We went to Checkpoint Charlie (so touristy), the Topography of Terror (an open-air museum that shows the locations and functions of every Nazi-era building), and then Tory hung at Starbucks to rest while I wandered over to the Jewish Museum. Unlike Munich's this one is epic and HUGE, and, true to form, packed with obnoxious Italian tourists whom I just can't seem to escape. The museum didn't really teach me anything new but it was interesting and, of course, I left with two new books. I wanted to make it to the Stasi Museum too but it was way too far east to make it there on our epic day trip, so that's for another time. No going that far into the former USSR.
At this point it was only 2 p.m. and I was almost done with my list. We went over to what was once the Jewish quarter and saw the Neue Synagogue (beautiful) and the destroyed Jewish cemetary (not beautiful). The only graves the Nazis left were those of Moses Mendelssohn and the few tombstones that were really stuck to the wall, so it was kind of haunting. It looks like a small, very green park now.
From there I dragged Tory to the other side of the Tiergarten because I wasn't leaving Berlin without seeing the Bendlerblock, from where the July 20th plot on Hitler's life was attempted. I'm a big fan of the movie Valkyrie (no judgment) and I'm actually writing a research paper on the German resistance so naturally I had to visit the German resistance memorial. This was the one museum without English explanations so we wandered aimlessly for a few minutes before realizing we could get a free English audio guide. Win. It was very interesting and I'm glad I went, especially as I probably wouldn't have been able to make it there next weekend when I'm back with the group. Tory deserves a gold star for putting up with all of my history-major dorkiness for the day.
We went to dinner (strudel was involved) and then nearly missed our train because the fast food workers decided to take their sweet time when we had a train to be on in five minutes but all was well. We jumped onto the first train, thought two couchettes were ours, rejoiced, and then were kicked out when it was determined that it wasn't our car. I hadn't actually thought that we'd be getting breakfast with our 39 euro tickets but it was nice for a few minutes.
We wandered the length of five cars and then finally found our compartment. It was empty except for this THING covered by a sheet, and words really can't do it justice but we seriously thought it was a person for the longest time and were so freaked out and tried to switch our compartment and it was terrifying and ridiculous. The only way it can be explained is by saying it's like someone rigged an elaborate bed sheet-tent and went catatonic afterward. The Deutsche Bahn employee was freaked out too but she eventually determined that it was just a bike underneath. Crisis averted. Of course, the humorless Czech conductor who took over at the border did not appreciate it the same way she did and I don't think he believed us when we said it wasn't ours.
This is the blob. We were terrified.
It took about an hour to get home from the sketchy train station. This trip included coach bus, smelly Prague bus, tram, transcontinental train, taxi, underground, overground, and basically everything but rocket-powered jet pack. But we survived. Ich bin ein Berliner and all that jazz.
Next week in Berlin (as I am going back with school): DIRTY DANCING: DAS ORIGINAL MUSICAL. I have no idea if it's in German or English but it doesn't matter anyway as there's no way I'll be sober for it. There are no words for my excitement.
We ran out of stuff to do by Wednesday.
Hence why I dragged him, slightly kicking and screaming, across the border to Berlin for what is coming to be known as Klaus' disco day trip. Took a bus that left at 11:55 Wednesday night and arrived just before 5 a.m. on Thursday. We went pretty much non-stop at that point and honestly, I think I'm out of stuff to do in Berlin. Considering we were physically in Berlin for all of 14.5 hours, I think we did a pretty admirable job. I've turned seeing a week's worth of stuff in a day or two into an art form.
We took the U-bahn in from the bus station, made it to Alexanderplatz, realized that nothing would be open at 5 a.m. and thusly headed to the Hauptbahnhof. Had a lovely breakfast at McDonald's, the only place open, and booked our tickets home in broken German. From there we took the LONG way (unknowingly) to the Brandenburg Gate. The Brandenburg Gate is way smaller than I had pictured it to be, but it's right next to the U.S. Embassy and we briefly considered going in and asking for a map. Consular services have been extended to help quasi-backpackers.
We kind of stumbled upon the Reichstag accidentally and just beat the line to go up into the weird, modern dome on top. The audio guide, dubbed Sir Lee, gave us a fairly thorough explanation of the landmarks visible from the dome but literally as we were leaving the line had tripled ten-fold. This still doesn't top the line that we passed on our way back to the train station in the evening where it looked like it was about to go off the Reichstag's property, but it was pretty epic.
We found our way to the Holocaust memorial, which is more or less a bunch of stone cubes of various sizes and, of course, very much open to interpretation. Berlin, like Munich, certainly isn't trying to hide its role in the Holocaust; in fact, by the philharmonic, there is a sign and very large plaque regarding the fact that the T4 Aktion murders took place on that spot. The spot of Hitler's bunker was near there so we found our way and it's just a large parking lot with yet another plaque. Must be weird to park your BMW or live in what I'm sure is prime real estate over Hitler's bunker, but that's the charm (?) of Germany, I guess.
We wandered down Unter den Linden to Bebelplatz, where the first major book burning occurred in 1933 (and upon doing further research, we didn't actually go into the actual platz, so no points to me or Tory). We went from there over the river and through the rest of Berlin where we made it to Alexanderplatz and then decided to go to Wombat's, pretend we were staying there and jack a free map or two. Our diabolical scheme worked and I got the most amazing falafel since Israel. Point one, Germany.
We went to Checkpoint Charlie (so touristy), the Topography of Terror (an open-air museum that shows the locations and functions of every Nazi-era building), and then Tory hung at Starbucks to rest while I wandered over to the Jewish Museum. Unlike Munich's this one is epic and HUGE, and, true to form, packed with obnoxious Italian tourists whom I just can't seem to escape. The museum didn't really teach me anything new but it was interesting and, of course, I left with two new books. I wanted to make it to the Stasi Museum too but it was way too far east to make it there on our epic day trip, so that's for another time. No going that far into the former USSR.
At this point it was only 2 p.m. and I was almost done with my list. We went over to what was once the Jewish quarter and saw the Neue Synagogue (beautiful) and the destroyed Jewish cemetary (not beautiful). The only graves the Nazis left were those of Moses Mendelssohn and the few tombstones that were really stuck to the wall, so it was kind of haunting. It looks like a small, very green park now.
From there I dragged Tory to the other side of the Tiergarten because I wasn't leaving Berlin without seeing the Bendlerblock, from where the July 20th plot on Hitler's life was attempted. I'm a big fan of the movie Valkyrie (no judgment) and I'm actually writing a research paper on the German resistance so naturally I had to visit the German resistance memorial. This was the one museum without English explanations so we wandered aimlessly for a few minutes before realizing we could get a free English audio guide. Win. It was very interesting and I'm glad I went, especially as I probably wouldn't have been able to make it there next weekend when I'm back with the group. Tory deserves a gold star for putting up with all of my history-major dorkiness for the day.
We went to dinner (strudel was involved) and then nearly missed our train because the fast food workers decided to take their sweet time when we had a train to be on in five minutes but all was well. We jumped onto the first train, thought two couchettes were ours, rejoiced, and then were kicked out when it was determined that it wasn't our car. I hadn't actually thought that we'd be getting breakfast with our 39 euro tickets but it was nice for a few minutes.
We wandered the length of five cars and then finally found our compartment. It was empty except for this THING covered by a sheet, and words really can't do it justice but we seriously thought it was a person for the longest time and were so freaked out and tried to switch our compartment and it was terrifying and ridiculous. The only way it can be explained is by saying it's like someone rigged an elaborate bed sheet-tent and went catatonic afterward. The Deutsche Bahn employee was freaked out too but she eventually determined that it was just a bike underneath. Crisis averted. Of course, the humorless Czech conductor who took over at the border did not appreciate it the same way she did and I don't think he believed us when we said it wasn't ours.
This is the blob. We were terrified.
It took about an hour to get home from the sketchy train station. This trip included coach bus, smelly Prague bus, tram, transcontinental train, taxi, underground, overground, and basically everything but rocket-powered jet pack. But we survived. Ich bin ein Berliner and all that jazz.
Next week in Berlin (as I am going back with school): DIRTY DANCING: DAS ORIGINAL MUSICAL. I have no idea if it's in German or English but it doesn't matter anyway as there's no way I'll be sober for it. There are no words for my excitement.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Roman Holiday
Two conversations that occurred when my mother called on Thursday--
Mom: I'm going to meet Grandma at the Olive Garden on Powerline in a few minutes.
Me: Oh, that sucks. I'm in Rome.
Mom: It's raining here.
Me: Oh, really? I'm in Rome.
I went to Rome for literally 48 hours and could not have had more fun. I was initially supposed to stay in Rome for just one night and continue on to Venice but it was just way too expensive and complicated so I switched my return flight to be from Ciampino and decided to shove a week's worth of sightseeing into just under two days and it actually worked fairly well. It was my first time in Italy and going to some places doesn't faze me but it was just mind-blowing to realize that I was actually in Italy and oh hey, there's a 2000-year-old Colosseum on the bus route and there's the pope and no big deal or anything.
This was also the first trip in which I essentially traveled by myself. Jesse and I went together, same flight and same hostel, but due to complications beyond my control we were apart for around a day and a half. The hostel was outrageously social so I hung out with two guys from Dallas on Thursday who were in town for spring break and then an amazing girl from Canada who was backpacking through Europe. Traveling by oneself is a strange sensation. On one hand, the freedom is incredible - no waiting for others to make up their minds, no compromising, just doing whatever you want. On the other hand, it can be lonely and if you're not good with maps like I am, it can be incredibly frustrating. If anything, though, it proved that I can do this for the two days in Scandinavia, so that's a plus.
On Thursday, I bonded with my roommates from Texas (as the only girl in the room, I kind of ran shit... just saying). We went to the Spanish Steps (where I had flashbacks from my mom's Europe journal-- AmEx is still just around the corner), the Trevi Fountain, the Colosseum, and the Forum. I can't really go into individual detail about each thing but I'm just blown away by how ancient everything is. I love London and Paris for their histories but they really just can't compare to a city that is actually thousands of years old. I also don't know if Romans are totally nonchalant about living in Rome because I'm sure after a while the thrill of walking by the Colosseum dissipates but I was completely in awe.
I headed to the Vatican afterward and went in the wrong direction a few times, but once I got there it was beautiful and old and kind of smaller than I expected but it was still very cool. Honestly, I prefer Notre Dame but that's just me. That night I took a night tour operated by the hostel, so I saw some of the same sights again and that was okay, I guess, but at least there was context involved.
There was a five-hour mass transit strike scheduled for Friday so I was out of the hostel REALLY early to beat the shutdown and of course the only thing I saw closed was the metro, so whatever. I navigated my way to the former Jewish Ghetto and stayed on the tram over the Tiber River. Walked through Trastevere back to the Jewish Quarter and toured the Jewish Museum and the synagogue. The Jewish Museum was interesting because Rome has the oldest Jewish community in Europe (they arrived in 161 B.C.) and while there aren't many artifacts from that era, they were fairly solid up until 1943 for obvious reasons. The synagogue was gorgeous, though- very Mediterranean and colorful but security was freakishly intense when I was going in- the questioning was akin to boarding an El Al flight.
While walking back to Via Nazionale, the main shopping street, I kind of wound up in the middle a massive anti-Berlusconi protest run jointly by a trade union, a student group, and, of course, the Communist group. Not going to lie but I kind of felt like a war photographer with my point-and-shoot camera. Don't try to convince me otherwise. The protest started near the Vittoriano (a huge white building known as the "wedding cake) so I checked out the exhibit inside. Because clearly visiting Auschwitz a week ago didn't depress me enough, I checked out their massive Auschwitz exhibit and, true to form, was depressed again. I rectified that by going shopping, and because I'm trying to buy a book from every place I go, I wound up with a biography of Cleopatra. Being a history major gives me leeway to be a huge nerd.
At this point it was around 2 p.m. and the only major thing left on my list to see was the Pantheon. I actually successfully navigated my way over with the hostel's map and my joyrides on Roman public transportation, was surrounded by southern Americans, and hung out inside and read Let's Go Europe to kill some time. Unfortunately it feels like all of Europe is under construction because it's not quite tourist season but I hope the officials know they're killing all my pictures. Okay. Cool. Also, I loved being mistaken for an actual Italian even though I can barely speak the language; the odd thing is that now that I'm back in Prague, the first thing to come to mind is "me scuzi" instead of its Czech equivalent. That shit doesn't really fly here because I think the Czech people have the same disdain for Italian tourists that they had for the Soviets in 1968.
After that I went back to the hostel with the intent to read a little and wound up drinking three happy-hour glasses of wine and scarfing pizza with Neigele from Canada and I loved every second of it. Stumbled onto the bus to Ciampino, bought Italian fast food to bring back to Prague (Mr. Panino is EXCELLENT), and somehow managed to retrieve Tory from the airport minus his belongings. Tory traveled from the airport to my dorm in a t-shirt, sweatpants and dress shoes. It was 20 degrees outside. Go Tory.
Mom: I'm going to meet Grandma at the Olive Garden on Powerline in a few minutes.
Me: Oh, that sucks. I'm in Rome.
Mom: It's raining here.
Me: Oh, really? I'm in Rome.
I went to Rome for literally 48 hours and could not have had more fun. I was initially supposed to stay in Rome for just one night and continue on to Venice but it was just way too expensive and complicated so I switched my return flight to be from Ciampino and decided to shove a week's worth of sightseeing into just under two days and it actually worked fairly well. It was my first time in Italy and going to some places doesn't faze me but it was just mind-blowing to realize that I was actually in Italy and oh hey, there's a 2000-year-old Colosseum on the bus route and there's the pope and no big deal or anything.
This was also the first trip in which I essentially traveled by myself. Jesse and I went together, same flight and same hostel, but due to complications beyond my control we were apart for around a day and a half. The hostel was outrageously social so I hung out with two guys from Dallas on Thursday who were in town for spring break and then an amazing girl from Canada who was backpacking through Europe. Traveling by oneself is a strange sensation. On one hand, the freedom is incredible - no waiting for others to make up their minds, no compromising, just doing whatever you want. On the other hand, it can be lonely and if you're not good with maps like I am, it can be incredibly frustrating. If anything, though, it proved that I can do this for the two days in Scandinavia, so that's a plus.
On Thursday, I bonded with my roommates from Texas (as the only girl in the room, I kind of ran shit... just saying). We went to the Spanish Steps (where I had flashbacks from my mom's Europe journal-- AmEx is still just around the corner), the Trevi Fountain, the Colosseum, and the Forum. I can't really go into individual detail about each thing but I'm just blown away by how ancient everything is. I love London and Paris for their histories but they really just can't compare to a city that is actually thousands of years old. I also don't know if Romans are totally nonchalant about living in Rome because I'm sure after a while the thrill of walking by the Colosseum dissipates but I was completely in awe.
I headed to the Vatican afterward and went in the wrong direction a few times, but once I got there it was beautiful and old and kind of smaller than I expected but it was still very cool. Honestly, I prefer Notre Dame but that's just me. That night I took a night tour operated by the hostel, so I saw some of the same sights again and that was okay, I guess, but at least there was context involved.
There was a five-hour mass transit strike scheduled for Friday so I was out of the hostel REALLY early to beat the shutdown and of course the only thing I saw closed was the metro, so whatever. I navigated my way to the former Jewish Ghetto and stayed on the tram over the Tiber River. Walked through Trastevere back to the Jewish Quarter and toured the Jewish Museum and the synagogue. The Jewish Museum was interesting because Rome has the oldest Jewish community in Europe (they arrived in 161 B.C.) and while there aren't many artifacts from that era, they were fairly solid up until 1943 for obvious reasons. The synagogue was gorgeous, though- very Mediterranean and colorful but security was freakishly intense when I was going in- the questioning was akin to boarding an El Al flight.
While walking back to Via Nazionale, the main shopping street, I kind of wound up in the middle a massive anti-Berlusconi protest run jointly by a trade union, a student group, and, of course, the Communist group. Not going to lie but I kind of felt like a war photographer with my point-and-shoot camera. Don't try to convince me otherwise. The protest started near the Vittoriano (a huge white building known as the "wedding cake) so I checked out the exhibit inside. Because clearly visiting Auschwitz a week ago didn't depress me enough, I checked out their massive Auschwitz exhibit and, true to form, was depressed again. I rectified that by going shopping, and because I'm trying to buy a book from every place I go, I wound up with a biography of Cleopatra. Being a history major gives me leeway to be a huge nerd.
At this point it was around 2 p.m. and the only major thing left on my list to see was the Pantheon. I actually successfully navigated my way over with the hostel's map and my joyrides on Roman public transportation, was surrounded by southern Americans, and hung out inside and read Let's Go Europe to kill some time. Unfortunately it feels like all of Europe is under construction because it's not quite tourist season but I hope the officials know they're killing all my pictures. Okay. Cool. Also, I loved being mistaken for an actual Italian even though I can barely speak the language; the odd thing is that now that I'm back in Prague, the first thing to come to mind is "me scuzi" instead of its Czech equivalent. That shit doesn't really fly here because I think the Czech people have the same disdain for Italian tourists that they had for the Soviets in 1968.
After that I went back to the hostel with the intent to read a little and wound up drinking three happy-hour glasses of wine and scarfing pizza with Neigele from Canada and I loved every second of it. Stumbled onto the bus to Ciampino, bought Italian fast food to bring back to Prague (Mr. Panino is EXCELLENT), and somehow managed to retrieve Tory from the airport minus his belongings. Tory traveled from the airport to my dorm in a t-shirt, sweatpants and dress shoes. It was 20 degrees outside. Go Tory.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
If Bruce Willis thinks it's a good idea...
I've now been to Poland twice in just under three years, which is far more than most people go in a lifetime, and God knows I never expected to be back again this soon. Back in 2007, I loved Krakow; it was beautiful and kind of warm and sunny and up until the point when we went to Plaszow, it was one big party. Of course, things got bad afterward and didn't really pick up until I got to Israel, but Poland had its beautiful moments.
Not so much this time around.
Krakow was still quaint and cute and really pretty in places, but of course, I was there for a different purpose this time around. The first time I was there was for the March of the Living, which, in retrospect, is not the most logical of programs because there's no way 17 and 18 year olds are mature enough to handle everything they throw at us in the span of a week - Plaszow, the ghettos, Auschwitz, Birkenau, mass graves, Tikocyn, Majdanek. I'm not even sure there's an age that ensures that one is mature enough to handle the camps because the camps are completely incomprehensible. But, I guess, for my first trip to Poland, I was there for a Jewish teen pilgrimage, a more emotionally intense version of the teen tour I was never able to do. I'm grateful to the March for many things, especially the fact that I was able to go into Poland this time with a vague knowledge of what to expect.
Going with a completely secular group was a new sensation, and I can safely say that I'm not a fan of touring the camps in a group in the slightest. It's not something that can or should be done in a pack; there will never be enough time to try to comprehend and reflect on the experience. The Miami group was not there for a seminar in the Jewish experience in Poland; we got Polish history as a whole and then a bit of Jewish history, but the makeup of the group had me slightly on edge. Unlike with the March, not everyone was Jewish and not everyone's family was affected by the Holocaust; even more so, not everyone had family members in Auschwitz. My mom had me reading literature about the Holocaust from a very young age and I'm grateful for the exposure; it's probably part of the reason why I'm a history major today. But that means I'm going to have a vastly different take on the events of the Holocaust, and that means I'm going to react in a vastly different way.
Truth be told, I didn't really need a return visit to Auschwitz, certainly not this soon after my first, but it was a facet of the Classroom Europe trip and I didn't really have a choice. I can now safely say that the next time I go back will either be with my mother or with any children I may have. It requires reflection and contemplation but I don't learn anything while I'm there. If anything, it makes me feel numb and doesn't elicit much of a visceral reaction, and the fact that I'm not reacting makes me upset, and then it's a big cycle of feeling terrible. I thought it would be better this time around now that I knew what to expect, but I knew that I'd see the room with the entire wall of human hair and the 40,000 pairs of shoes and the suitcases meticulously labeled by people who would never see their belongings or homes again, and just that knowledge was terrible in and of itself.
On the way to the camps, I had many of the same thoughts that I did on the way in last time, that every house we pass along the highway could have belonged to a Jewish family at one point in time, that by the grace of God and my family's emigration I exist today, because if they had stayed in Europe there's a pretty decent chance that everyone from those generations would have been murdered.
I hate visiting the camps because I'm a visual person in that I need to be able to picture a place as it was when it was operational; it's not limited to the Holocaust or World War II but even frustrated me in London and Paris, where, for instance, I couldn't imagine the French Revolution taking place in what I know was a very different Place de la Concorde. The images of the Holocaust that I had before the March was that of a black and white, two-dimensional Holocaust, no more than figures in a film. I still can't picture the camps as operational - that isn't to say I would ever dare deny the Holocaust, but it's just hard for me to picture actual humans living and dying there. Auschwitz has always felt more like a film set or museum display than an actual camp that saw one million Jews and thousands of others killed, which is why going there frustrates me immensely.
I also don't really know how to approach the Holocaust. On one hand, I'm a history major (and in some ways a very amateur historian) and I try to treat it objectively and clinically and just as something to be studied; God knows I've read enough about it. On the other hand, I'm a Jew with European ancestry and also a human being, and the Holocaust isn't something that should be looked at objectively; it's the greatest crime against humanity to date. And at what point do you stop blaming a country for its role in such a heinous crime? I know tons of young Germans who want no association with the Holocaust because it wasn't their generation that did something so terrible, but at what point do you absolve a country of its past transgressions? And does that set a dangerous precedent ("Kill a few million but we'll forgive you in 60 years")?
Anyway. Poland wasn't all Auschwitz and doom and sadness, though it was pretty fucking cold and that sucked because I didn't anticipate it at all and hence I might have frostbite and/or pneumonia. We left just before 8:30 on Friday morning and got to Krakow nine hours later after 2000 stops, three back-to-back passport checks (and one in which Samantha's passport was stolen by a Polish police officer/drag queen), and two instances of almost plowing down a Krakow tram. But we got there, dropped our stuff off, went to dinner, and while I have no idea what anyone else did, I got almost 10 hours of sleep that night and it was FANTASTIC.
On Saturday we toured Wawel Castle (which I remembered last time only for its presence on The Amazing Race) and it was interesting but all chapels and tombs start to blur together after a while. Afterward we went to Kazimierz, the Jewish Quarter in which we spent most of our time back on the March, and we went to the Old Synagogue's Jewish museum, which I remember pretty vividly from 2007. Of course, it wouldn't be Poland if I wasn't surrounded by LOUD Israeli tour groups, so that was comforting in a way. Samantha and I went on a quest for a mezuzah and books, and I witnessed a very uncomfortable interrogation in Czech by a Polish shopkeeper, and it might have been the funniest part of this weekend.
After lunch we went to the area of the Jewish ghetto. I remembered the chairs memorial and the small part of the wall that my group had seen on the March, and then Samantha led us to the ghetto memorial and then Oskar Schindler's factory, which was in the most depressing part of any town I'd seen up to that point. The factory was just another building, though I guess I wouldn't have been impressed unless Liam Neeson was giving me a personal tour. I suppose everything seems bigger because of movies so I can't be surprised by how small it felt.
Samantha and I headed off to a bookstore afterward and then I found hair gel (!!!! I'm such a guido, wow), and then our travels took us to a shopping mall. I guess I should take the time to note that I love seeing three things in foreign countries: highways, rest stops, and shopping malls. I know it's weird but whatever, I love seeing how residents of other countries live and travel and so on. All I can say is that this mall put many American ones, including the terrible Florida malls, to shame because it was three stories tall and FABULOUS and it's odd to see how much more developed Poland is than the Czech Republic. Carrefour also needs to get itself to Prague RIGHT NOW because it was like Super Target and I'm mildly obsessed. I nearly went food shopping in Krakow just because I could. Also, Bruce Willis is apparently a spokesman for Sobieski vodka and hence his face is plastered all over the boxes of the gift sets of vodka, and it is HILARIOUS.
I've been thinking a lot about the scene from The History Boys that I quoted in the previous entry. Before those lines, it says this of the Holocaust:
AKTHAR: It has origins. It has consequences. It’s a subject like any other.
SCRIPPS: Not like any other, surely. Not like any other at all.
AKTHAR: No, but it’s a topic.
I wish I was mature enough to comprehend it because I thought there would be a ton of progress on the front since I was 17, but I don't think there is an age at which the Holocaust becomes easier to comprehend or emotionally manage. The camps shouldn't be a tourist attraction, but then again, there really isn't another way to present them.
Nothing is appropriate.
Not so much this time around.
Krakow was still quaint and cute and really pretty in places, but of course, I was there for a different purpose this time around. The first time I was there was for the March of the Living, which, in retrospect, is not the most logical of programs because there's no way 17 and 18 year olds are mature enough to handle everything they throw at us in the span of a week - Plaszow, the ghettos, Auschwitz, Birkenau, mass graves, Tikocyn, Majdanek. I'm not even sure there's an age that ensures that one is mature enough to handle the camps because the camps are completely incomprehensible. But, I guess, for my first trip to Poland, I was there for a Jewish teen pilgrimage, a more emotionally intense version of the teen tour I was never able to do. I'm grateful to the March for many things, especially the fact that I was able to go into Poland this time with a vague knowledge of what to expect.
Going with a completely secular group was a new sensation, and I can safely say that I'm not a fan of touring the camps in a group in the slightest. It's not something that can or should be done in a pack; there will never be enough time to try to comprehend and reflect on the experience. The Miami group was not there for a seminar in the Jewish experience in Poland; we got Polish history as a whole and then a bit of Jewish history, but the makeup of the group had me slightly on edge. Unlike with the March, not everyone was Jewish and not everyone's family was affected by the Holocaust; even more so, not everyone had family members in Auschwitz. My mom had me reading literature about the Holocaust from a very young age and I'm grateful for the exposure; it's probably part of the reason why I'm a history major today. But that means I'm going to have a vastly different take on the events of the Holocaust, and that means I'm going to react in a vastly different way.
Truth be told, I didn't really need a return visit to Auschwitz, certainly not this soon after my first, but it was a facet of the Classroom Europe trip and I didn't really have a choice. I can now safely say that the next time I go back will either be with my mother or with any children I may have. It requires reflection and contemplation but I don't learn anything while I'm there. If anything, it makes me feel numb and doesn't elicit much of a visceral reaction, and the fact that I'm not reacting makes me upset, and then it's a big cycle of feeling terrible. I thought it would be better this time around now that I knew what to expect, but I knew that I'd see the room with the entire wall of human hair and the 40,000 pairs of shoes and the suitcases meticulously labeled by people who would never see their belongings or homes again, and just that knowledge was terrible in and of itself.
On the way to the camps, I had many of the same thoughts that I did on the way in last time, that every house we pass along the highway could have belonged to a Jewish family at one point in time, that by the grace of God and my family's emigration I exist today, because if they had stayed in Europe there's a pretty decent chance that everyone from those generations would have been murdered.
I hate visiting the camps because I'm a visual person in that I need to be able to picture a place as it was when it was operational; it's not limited to the Holocaust or World War II but even frustrated me in London and Paris, where, for instance, I couldn't imagine the French Revolution taking place in what I know was a very different Place de la Concorde. The images of the Holocaust that I had before the March was that of a black and white, two-dimensional Holocaust, no more than figures in a film. I still can't picture the camps as operational - that isn't to say I would ever dare deny the Holocaust, but it's just hard for me to picture actual humans living and dying there. Auschwitz has always felt more like a film set or museum display than an actual camp that saw one million Jews and thousands of others killed, which is why going there frustrates me immensely.
I also don't really know how to approach the Holocaust. On one hand, I'm a history major (and in some ways a very amateur historian) and I try to treat it objectively and clinically and just as something to be studied; God knows I've read enough about it. On the other hand, I'm a Jew with European ancestry and also a human being, and the Holocaust isn't something that should be looked at objectively; it's the greatest crime against humanity to date. And at what point do you stop blaming a country for its role in such a heinous crime? I know tons of young Germans who want no association with the Holocaust because it wasn't their generation that did something so terrible, but at what point do you absolve a country of its past transgressions? And does that set a dangerous precedent ("Kill a few million but we'll forgive you in 60 years")?
Anyway. Poland wasn't all Auschwitz and doom and sadness, though it was pretty fucking cold and that sucked because I didn't anticipate it at all and hence I might have frostbite and/or pneumonia. We left just before 8:30 on Friday morning and got to Krakow nine hours later after 2000 stops, three back-to-back passport checks (and one in which Samantha's passport was stolen by a Polish police officer/drag queen), and two instances of almost plowing down a Krakow tram. But we got there, dropped our stuff off, went to dinner, and while I have no idea what anyone else did, I got almost 10 hours of sleep that night and it was FANTASTIC.
On Saturday we toured Wawel Castle (which I remembered last time only for its presence on The Amazing Race) and it was interesting but all chapels and tombs start to blur together after a while. Afterward we went to Kazimierz, the Jewish Quarter in which we spent most of our time back on the March, and we went to the Old Synagogue's Jewish museum, which I remember pretty vividly from 2007. Of course, it wouldn't be Poland if I wasn't surrounded by LOUD Israeli tour groups, so that was comforting in a way. Samantha and I went on a quest for a mezuzah and books, and I witnessed a very uncomfortable interrogation in Czech by a Polish shopkeeper, and it might have been the funniest part of this weekend.
After lunch we went to the area of the Jewish ghetto. I remembered the chairs memorial and the small part of the wall that my group had seen on the March, and then Samantha led us to the ghetto memorial and then Oskar Schindler's factory, which was in the most depressing part of any town I'd seen up to that point. The factory was just another building, though I guess I wouldn't have been impressed unless Liam Neeson was giving me a personal tour. I suppose everything seems bigger because of movies so I can't be surprised by how small it felt.
Samantha and I headed off to a bookstore afterward and then I found hair gel (!!!! I'm such a guido, wow), and then our travels took us to a shopping mall. I guess I should take the time to note that I love seeing three things in foreign countries: highways, rest stops, and shopping malls. I know it's weird but whatever, I love seeing how residents of other countries live and travel and so on. All I can say is that this mall put many American ones, including the terrible Florida malls, to shame because it was three stories tall and FABULOUS and it's odd to see how much more developed Poland is than the Czech Republic. Carrefour also needs to get itself to Prague RIGHT NOW because it was like Super Target and I'm mildly obsessed. I nearly went food shopping in Krakow just because I could. Also, Bruce Willis is apparently a spokesman for Sobieski vodka and hence his face is plastered all over the boxes of the gift sets of vodka, and it is HILARIOUS.
I've been thinking a lot about the scene from The History Boys that I quoted in the previous entry. Before those lines, it says this of the Holocaust:
AKTHAR: It has origins. It has consequences. It’s a subject like any other.
SCRIPPS: Not like any other, surely. Not like any other at all.
AKTHAR: No, but it’s a topic.
I wish I was mature enough to comprehend it because I thought there would be a ton of progress on the front since I was 17, but I don't think there is an age at which the Holocaust becomes easier to comprehend or emotionally manage. The camps shouldn't be a tourist attraction, but then again, there really isn't another way to present them.
Nothing is appropriate.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
The History Boys:
"They go on school trips there nowadays, don't they? Auschwitz, Dachau... What's always concerned me is where do they have their sandwiches, drink their cokes?"
"The visitors center. It's like anywhere else."
"Do they take pictures of each other there? Are they smiling? Do they hold hands? Nothing is appropriate."
"The visitors center. It's like anywhere else."
"Do they take pictures of each other there? Are they smiling? Do they hold hands? Nothing is appropriate."
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Things Prague needs:
1. A sensible nighttime transportation option. Taking the tram to a remote location thinking you'll get picked up by the night tram, but, oh wait, they've rerouted over the weekend so yeah, you're screwed and in a large field.
2. Water fountains. This is self-explanatory as I'm going broke because the Czech Republic (and all of Europe) is taking advantage of my need to hydrate.
3. Two-ply toilet paper. Also self-explanatory.
4. To discover that turning on the hot AND the cold water yields warm water.
5. WIDE ACCEPTANCE OF CREDIT CARDS.
6. Laundry facilities that don't suck. This isn't a flat statement about the country because I KNOW that decent washers and dryers exist, but it's now going on hour five of today's laundry misadventures and my clothes are still not dry.
2. Water fountains. This is self-explanatory as I'm going broke because the Czech Republic (and all of Europe) is taking advantage of my need to hydrate.
3. Two-ply toilet paper. Also self-explanatory.
4. To discover that turning on the hot AND the cold water yields warm water.
5. WIDE ACCEPTANCE OF CREDIT CARDS.
6. Laundry facilities that don't suck. This isn't a flat statement about the country because I KNOW that decent washers and dryers exist, but it's now going on hour five of today's laundry misadventures and my clothes are still not dry.
Monday, March 1, 2010
London: For the rain it raineth every day...
I'm going to start the recap of my weekend in London with a list of my purchases (no heart attacks, parents): eight books, a pound of Cadbury Dairy Milk, two tote bags, six playbills, and two sheets of London Underground stickers; also purchased were five travel-size bottles of hair gel. If you can't figure out my weekend's itinerary from that, you know nothing about me.
This past weekend was my second time in London and I think it's fairly safe to say that I fell head-over-heels in love with the city. I didn't appreciate it before; I compared it to New York, thinking that because London was less crowded and a lot quieter, it was inferior. That was before I lived in Prague, which, though pretty, shuts down at 8 p.m. and is virtually silent. I'm now slightly obsessed with London in a pretty bad way. Expatriation is definitely in the plans; God save the queen.
Anyway: arrived Thursday around noon. Getting into London from Stansted took a lot longer than I expected it to, so upon making it to Oxford Circus, I jumped in a cab with all of my stuff and headed for show number one: War Horse. The show just announced a New York production at the Lincoln Center, which is great, and I'm sure it'll be really well received in the States, but I can't help but be disappointed that they changed so much from the novel (I had just finished days before and it had me sobbing on Prague public transportation). It was still a beautiful show, though, so good job, National Theatre.
Ollie met me at the theatre afterward like the wonderful friend that he is and helped me find the hostel and then the Adelphi Theatre. The hostel was decent; I think Munich spoiled me rotten but it was fine for what it was: a place to sleep. Anyway, Ollie escorted me over to Charing Cross and I prepared for what was to be the culmination of 12 years of obsessive Phantom of the Opera love: the fourth preview of its sequel, Love Never Dies.
I wanted to like the show. I wanted to like it SO BADLY. I like Andrew Lloyd Webber for the most part; I ADORE Phantom, and this show starred Ramin Karimloo, who is outrageously attractive AND talented and wonderful. But Jesus Christ, what a load of shit. There is one good song but the rest of the show is essentially ALW taking a knife to Phantom and killing everything likable about it. He engaged in character assassination (quite literally), essentially rewrote the plot to allow for massive holes that allow Love Never Dies to make sense within its own alternate universe, and made every sympathetic Phantom character a total asshole. When did Christine and the Phantom have time to get it on? Why did Raoul have to become an alcoholic douchebag who would literally bet his relationship with Christine to try to one-up the Phantom? And was the fucking creepy love child necessary? And, spoiler of spoilers, CHRISTINE FUCKING DIES. What's worse is that MEG FUCKING KILLS CHRISTINE. This show was so painfully unnecessary. I thought about lighting a candle outside Her Majesty's Theatre because of what ALW did to my favorite show of all time. What a miserable, disappointing night.
Ahem. Anyway. Friday morning had me waiting in the freezing rain outside the National to queue for day tickets for The Habit of Art because God knows I will not miss an Alan Bennett-penned and Nicholas Hytner-directed show that stars Richard Griffiths and Frances de la Tour. Only waited an hour and got a seat on the aisle of row C in the stalls (orchestra to you Americans), and it was a beautiful show that was really just a big love letter to theatre. Obviously totally worth the experience.
After waiting on line, I headed to the British Library, which might be my favorite spot in London. There was an exhibit on 19th-century photography that I wasn't crazy about, but I still had total dork moments in front of the Gutenberg Bible and the handwritten Beatles lyrics on display. Afterward, Stephanie showed up at the hostel and I directed her to Southbank, whereas I had to go to the BBC Television Centre for my tour. Frankly, my interest stopped after we hit up the newsroom so I wish I had gone with Stephanie to the Tate Modern, but at least my trip to Waterloo let me stop at the British Film Institute FINALLY.
I had pre-booked my tickets for Saturday (The Misanthrope with Damian Lewis - unf - and Keira Knightley and The Caretaker with Jonathan Pryce) so there was no waiting around for hours, though there was an impromptu trip to the Apple Store because my iPod was acting up. It's always fun to take time from a vacation to go deal with Apple bureaucracy and the Genius Bar - NOT. But anyway, went from there to the Tate Modern and then to the National Gallery and National Portrait Gallery, which I absolutely adored.
I enjoyed The Misanthrope to a degree, mostly thanks to Damian Lewis who was just spectacular. Keira Knightley, on the other hand, tried, but doing an American accent is not her strong suit. I liked how the script was updated to, you know, not be 17th-century France. Damian Lewis was really impressive. Likewise, The Caretaker is nowhere near my favorite play, but Jonathan Pryce has this incredible magnetism as an actor that made it impossible to take my eyes off of him onstage.
Excitement in the Tube! I was waiting to head to Trafalgar when the trains on the Bakerloo line were held. It happens quite a bit so it wasn't a big deal, but then a (soothing, British-accented) voice came over the loudspeaker and declared that all of Oxford Circus had to be evacuated due to an unidentified emergency. Oxford Circus is a fairly large station with three different lines, so you can imagine the stampede out of there as the police and the Tube employees rushing down the escalators as a few thousand people were trying to get out.
Sunday was one of those days that went on forever and ever and was stressful and wonderful at the same time. I decided not to risk not getting Waiting for Godot day tickets so I was there by 9 a.m. for a 10:30 box office opening. Of course I was the first one there, but I would not have left London had I missed seeing Ian McKellen and Roger Rees do Estragon and Vladimir. Sitting in the cold rain for 90 minutes was a small price to pay for the front-row center ticket that I got for £11. I was so close to the stage that I could see up Ian McKellen's nose. I SAW THE MAN'S PORES. And while I'm still not an enormous fan of the play itself, Ian McKellen and Roger Rees gave two of the most brilliant, powerful performances I've ever seen; I'd rank them alongside Ralph Fiennes' Oedipus and that is high fucking praise coming from me. I'm just in awe of them as actors and of the fact that I saw two legendary actors give the performances of a lifetime. God, I love London theatre.
Beyond that, Stephanie and I hit up Abbey Road (overrated but cool) and the Victoria & Albert Museum (interesting but I wasn't really in the mood). We ran to Westminster and Trafalgar to take pictures together to prove that we were actually in London together, then I went to my show, and then we headed to Hammersmith for the Mika concert.
I don't think I've had more fun at a concert than I did at Mika's. While he took forever to start, the man is nothing if not the consummate showman, and the entire concert was theatrical and melodramatic in the best way possible, and honestly, I'd expect nothing less from Mika. It was incredibly crowded (and the audience was diverse- everyone from six year olds to middle-aged men and women were there) and hot and sweaty, but I had such a great time dancing and shrieking lyrics to songs I adore.
Afterward we caught one of the last trains to Gatwick for the evening, where I wound up passing out on the linoleum using my coat as a blanket and my wet towel as a pillow. Clearly we weren't the only ones either too cheap to book another night at a hostel because the airport was PACKED; I couldn't even get a bench so I embraced my inner hobo and just slept on the floor. The British are also incredibly intense about security so I was forced to go buy a 100 mL container to pour my hair gel into. Pushing hair gel into a plastic bottle isn't the best way to spend 20 minutes that I could think of, but I got the job done. Garnier products are too precious to just abandon at security. It's also not like I'm plotting to use hair products to disrupt national security or anything, but I'm sure I, with my total lack of sleep, looked really shady. Obviously.
Anyway, Prague was really pretty when I got back today (blue skies and no snow, though I kind of miss it). I still love London more (and there were 11 more shows I'd have seen if I had all the time in the world) but it was nice to come home. Not so nice was oversleeping after my post-flight nap and barely making it to class, but I digress. While I'm glad I had the extra night in London, though, coming back the morning of classes is really rough. It's also pretty odd to realize that just two hours ago you were in London or Paris or whatever and now you're about to pass out in class #3 of the day. Whatever. Hail Britannia.
This past weekend was my second time in London and I think it's fairly safe to say that I fell head-over-heels in love with the city. I didn't appreciate it before; I compared it to New York, thinking that because London was less crowded and a lot quieter, it was inferior. That was before I lived in Prague, which, though pretty, shuts down at 8 p.m. and is virtually silent. I'm now slightly obsessed with London in a pretty bad way. Expatriation is definitely in the plans; God save the queen.
Anyway: arrived Thursday around noon. Getting into London from Stansted took a lot longer than I expected it to, so upon making it to Oxford Circus, I jumped in a cab with all of my stuff and headed for show number one: War Horse. The show just announced a New York production at the Lincoln Center, which is great, and I'm sure it'll be really well received in the States, but I can't help but be disappointed that they changed so much from the novel (I had just finished days before and it had me sobbing on Prague public transportation). It was still a beautiful show, though, so good job, National Theatre.
Ollie met me at the theatre afterward like the wonderful friend that he is and helped me find the hostel and then the Adelphi Theatre. The hostel was decent; I think Munich spoiled me rotten but it was fine for what it was: a place to sleep. Anyway, Ollie escorted me over to Charing Cross and I prepared for what was to be the culmination of 12 years of obsessive Phantom of the Opera love: the fourth preview of its sequel, Love Never Dies.
I wanted to like the show. I wanted to like it SO BADLY. I like Andrew Lloyd Webber for the most part; I ADORE Phantom, and this show starred Ramin Karimloo, who is outrageously attractive AND talented and wonderful. But Jesus Christ, what a load of shit. There is one good song but the rest of the show is essentially ALW taking a knife to Phantom and killing everything likable about it. He engaged in character assassination (quite literally), essentially rewrote the plot to allow for massive holes that allow Love Never Dies to make sense within its own alternate universe, and made every sympathetic Phantom character a total asshole. When did Christine and the Phantom have time to get it on? Why did Raoul have to become an alcoholic douchebag who would literally bet his relationship with Christine to try to one-up the Phantom? And was the fucking creepy love child necessary? And, spoiler of spoilers, CHRISTINE FUCKING DIES. What's worse is that MEG FUCKING KILLS CHRISTINE. This show was so painfully unnecessary. I thought about lighting a candle outside Her Majesty's Theatre because of what ALW did to my favorite show of all time. What a miserable, disappointing night.
Ahem. Anyway. Friday morning had me waiting in the freezing rain outside the National to queue for day tickets for The Habit of Art because God knows I will not miss an Alan Bennett-penned and Nicholas Hytner-directed show that stars Richard Griffiths and Frances de la Tour. Only waited an hour and got a seat on the aisle of row C in the stalls (orchestra to you Americans), and it was a beautiful show that was really just a big love letter to theatre. Obviously totally worth the experience.
After waiting on line, I headed to the British Library, which might be my favorite spot in London. There was an exhibit on 19th-century photography that I wasn't crazy about, but I still had total dork moments in front of the Gutenberg Bible and the handwritten Beatles lyrics on display. Afterward, Stephanie showed up at the hostel and I directed her to Southbank, whereas I had to go to the BBC Television Centre for my tour. Frankly, my interest stopped after we hit up the newsroom so I wish I had gone with Stephanie to the Tate Modern, but at least my trip to Waterloo let me stop at the British Film Institute FINALLY.
I had pre-booked my tickets for Saturday (The Misanthrope with Damian Lewis - unf - and Keira Knightley and The Caretaker with Jonathan Pryce) so there was no waiting around for hours, though there was an impromptu trip to the Apple Store because my iPod was acting up. It's always fun to take time from a vacation to go deal with Apple bureaucracy and the Genius Bar - NOT. But anyway, went from there to the Tate Modern and then to the National Gallery and National Portrait Gallery, which I absolutely adored.
I enjoyed The Misanthrope to a degree, mostly thanks to Damian Lewis who was just spectacular. Keira Knightley, on the other hand, tried, but doing an American accent is not her strong suit. I liked how the script was updated to, you know, not be 17th-century France. Damian Lewis was really impressive. Likewise, The Caretaker is nowhere near my favorite play, but Jonathan Pryce has this incredible magnetism as an actor that made it impossible to take my eyes off of him onstage.
Excitement in the Tube! I was waiting to head to Trafalgar when the trains on the Bakerloo line were held. It happens quite a bit so it wasn't a big deal, but then a (soothing, British-accented) voice came over the loudspeaker and declared that all of Oxford Circus had to be evacuated due to an unidentified emergency. Oxford Circus is a fairly large station with three different lines, so you can imagine the stampede out of there as the police and the Tube employees rushing down the escalators as a few thousand people were trying to get out.
Sunday was one of those days that went on forever and ever and was stressful and wonderful at the same time. I decided not to risk not getting Waiting for Godot day tickets so I was there by 9 a.m. for a 10:30 box office opening. Of course I was the first one there, but I would not have left London had I missed seeing Ian McKellen and Roger Rees do Estragon and Vladimir. Sitting in the cold rain for 90 minutes was a small price to pay for the front-row center ticket that I got for £11. I was so close to the stage that I could see up Ian McKellen's nose. I SAW THE MAN'S PORES. And while I'm still not an enormous fan of the play itself, Ian McKellen and Roger Rees gave two of the most brilliant, powerful performances I've ever seen; I'd rank them alongside Ralph Fiennes' Oedipus and that is high fucking praise coming from me. I'm just in awe of them as actors and of the fact that I saw two legendary actors give the performances of a lifetime. God, I love London theatre.
Beyond that, Stephanie and I hit up Abbey Road (overrated but cool) and the Victoria & Albert Museum (interesting but I wasn't really in the mood). We ran to Westminster and Trafalgar to take pictures together to prove that we were actually in London together, then I went to my show, and then we headed to Hammersmith for the Mika concert.
I don't think I've had more fun at a concert than I did at Mika's. While he took forever to start, the man is nothing if not the consummate showman, and the entire concert was theatrical and melodramatic in the best way possible, and honestly, I'd expect nothing less from Mika. It was incredibly crowded (and the audience was diverse- everyone from six year olds to middle-aged men and women were there) and hot and sweaty, but I had such a great time dancing and shrieking lyrics to songs I adore.
Afterward we caught one of the last trains to Gatwick for the evening, where I wound up passing out on the linoleum using my coat as a blanket and my wet towel as a pillow. Clearly we weren't the only ones either too cheap to book another night at a hostel because the airport was PACKED; I couldn't even get a bench so I embraced my inner hobo and just slept on the floor. The British are also incredibly intense about security so I was forced to go buy a 100 mL container to pour my hair gel into. Pushing hair gel into a plastic bottle isn't the best way to spend 20 minutes that I could think of, but I got the job done. Garnier products are too precious to just abandon at security. It's also not like I'm plotting to use hair products to disrupt national security or anything, but I'm sure I, with my total lack of sleep, looked really shady. Obviously.
Anyway, Prague was really pretty when I got back today (blue skies and no snow, though I kind of miss it). I still love London more (and there were 11 more shows I'd have seen if I had all the time in the world) but it was nice to come home. Not so nice was oversleeping after my post-flight nap and barely making it to class, but I digress. While I'm glad I had the extra night in London, though, coming back the morning of classes is really rough. It's also pretty odd to realize that just two hours ago you were in London or Paris or whatever and now you're about to pass out in class #3 of the day. Whatever. Hail Britannia.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Prague: 4000, Sarah: 0
Just when I think I'm beginning to conquer the Czech Republic, it likes to throw a curve ball and remind me that I'm just a lowly American exchange student. I know my way around the main areas; I can say a few sentences and even clerks and baristas will speak to me in rapid Czech, not noting my horrendous accent.
While I'm comfortable speaking Czech to an extent, my vocabulary doesn't include the word "reroute," hence how I wound up in the middle of NOWHERE while toting an entire department store's worth of groceries. Went food shopping, finally found the cosmetic stuff I needed, and jumped on a tram that I've taken home too many times to count. Of course, it totally blew off my stop, went down another road, and took me somewhere in Prague 5 where there was only a McDonald's around. That's not really what I needed tonight.
Of course, because I'm writing this and am not dead in a ditch somewhere, I made it home. But still. Screw you, tram system. Also, I'm now at the point where 40 degrees is warm. It was so nice outside that I didn't recognize my tram stop coming home from Paris on Monday.
Classes started. Day one was rough because I had literally two hours after landing in Prague to make it to class, and my very first one included two hours on the 12th-century Moravian tribes; I considered how to best poke my eyes out. The World in Prague should be okay, though; considering it's fine arts, literature and history I think I can handle it.
Jewish History was not particularly surprising; the professor terrifies me but in a really good way (if there is such a thing?), and I think I'll learn a lot.
Classroom Europe should be hilarious because the professor, a former ambassador, is hysterical and quite possibly crazy and I kind of want to be best friends with him and talk politics and history all day so maybe the insanely long bus rides around Europe won't suck. But that's just maybe.
Film will be fine because we started with The Unbearable Lightness of Being and the professor is American.
Also? The city of Prague needs to invest in more streetlights because the walk from the tram stop to my dorm could not be creepier if it tried.
London tomorrow! Au revoir, bank account. Bonjour, Phantom sequel.
Special thanks go to: Dad, for assuring me that my flight won't be affected by the now-defunct strike, and Mom, for answering the phone when I was miserably lost
Addendum: As I'm now trying to shove my belongings into my minuscule duffel, I'd like to offer a wholehearted SCREW YOU to EasyJet because their asinine, exploitative baggage policy will be my downfall. Warning, parents: any purchases made between Thursday and Saturday will be shipped to Prague via Royal Air Mail. Thank you for the credit cards. Love, your daughter.
While I'm comfortable speaking Czech to an extent, my vocabulary doesn't include the word "reroute," hence how I wound up in the middle of NOWHERE while toting an entire department store's worth of groceries. Went food shopping, finally found the cosmetic stuff I needed, and jumped on a tram that I've taken home too many times to count. Of course, it totally blew off my stop, went down another road, and took me somewhere in Prague 5 where there was only a McDonald's around. That's not really what I needed tonight.
Of course, because I'm writing this and am not dead in a ditch somewhere, I made it home. But still. Screw you, tram system. Also, I'm now at the point where 40 degrees is warm. It was so nice outside that I didn't recognize my tram stop coming home from Paris on Monday.
Classes started. Day one was rough because I had literally two hours after landing in Prague to make it to class, and my very first one included two hours on the 12th-century Moravian tribes; I considered how to best poke my eyes out. The World in Prague should be okay, though; considering it's fine arts, literature and history I think I can handle it.
Jewish History was not particularly surprising; the professor terrifies me but in a really good way (if there is such a thing?), and I think I'll learn a lot.
Classroom Europe should be hilarious because the professor, a former ambassador, is hysterical and quite possibly crazy and I kind of want to be best friends with him and talk politics and history all day so maybe the insanely long bus rides around Europe won't suck. But that's just maybe.
Film will be fine because we started with The Unbearable Lightness of Being and the professor is American.
Also? The city of Prague needs to invest in more streetlights because the walk from the tram stop to my dorm could not be creepier if it tried.
London tomorrow! Au revoir, bank account. Bonjour, Phantom sequel.
Special thanks go to: Dad, for assuring me that my flight won't be affected by the now-defunct strike, and Mom, for answering the phone when I was miserably lost
Addendum: As I'm now trying to shove my belongings into my minuscule duffel, I'd like to offer a wholehearted SCREW YOU to EasyJet because their asinine, exploitative baggage policy will be my downfall. Warning, parents: any purchases made between Thursday and Saturday will be shipped to Prague via Royal Air Mail. Thank you for the credit cards. Love, your daughter.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Paris: "we b in kings chamber"
This past weekend's impromptu trip to Paris was really last minute, like, booked a week before I left. If you know me (and I assume if you're reading this, you do know me), you know that I plan EVERYTHING months in advance, so for me to essentially pick up and go to France was a bit spontaneous.
At first I wasn't considering coming here because I was here before, albeit when I was 10 years old and fairly stupid. Now, I (allegedly) speak some French, I know French history fairly well, and I actually appreciate more than a city having a Pizza Hut branch. It was time to return to Paris.
After a lovely 3:15 a.m. departure from bumblefuck, Prague, my ridiculously short flight landed at CDG and I was en route to Paris! When I was there with my parents we stayed in a hotel outside the city center so we had to take the RER, and I was amazed to find that I remembered some of the same buildings from 2000 (for context, I was there before the Euro existed), including my favorite bibliotheque. Got to Paris, was awed by the breathing room and regular sidewalks, met up with Claudia (who, for the record, is a wonderful, tres magnifique host) and crashed before heading to the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs Elysees.
True to form, I can't go on a trip without some epic quest, and this one's was a move of desperation: I needed Garnier hair gel, something that Prague has yet to embrace. I decided that duh, of course I could find my way in a city whose language I can't really speak and haven't been to since I was 10, so I left Claudia and her other visiting friend and went off to find this mysterious American-British pharmacy that would surely have it.
It took almost three hours, plenty of frustrated calls to my mom for directions (sorry!), and a pit stop at a theatre at the Place de la Madeleine to get tickets for an all-French production of A Doll's House (starring Audrey Tatou!!!!!!) but I found my way there. They didn't have what I was looking for, and what they did have was 13 euros (NOT HAPPENING) but it was fine. It was okay because I got to see the Opera Garnier, which, for those of you who know your Leroux/Lloyd Webber, is the Phantom of the Opera opera house, which means it is fabulous.
Speaking of fabulous, everyone looks perfect all the time and I was too young to pick up on it last time but someone teach me the ways of the Gallic because I want to be able to walk the city in 5-inch heels and not want to die.
Anyway, so I saw the sparkly Eiffel Tower and Audrey Tatou in A Doll's House later that night, and while it was beyond cool to see her onstage (she's just as gorgeous as you'd think she'd be), my French is far worse than I estimated it to be and therefore I only caught words like "merci" and "aussi". But it was Audrey Tatou, and Claudia read me the Wikipedia summary beforehand so I at least knew what was happening onstage, no thanks to the French language.
Saturday morning I went to the Pompidou Centre because that's what Claudia and Lu had done while I was on the quest for hair gel (so guido-sounding, ick). The fifth floor (with all the famous art) was closed for renovations, but the exhibit they had was incredible. It was elles@Pompidou and featured work by female artists, including my personal favorite, a huge collage done by the Guerrilla Girls and also a smaller exhibit of collages by Erro. Afterward I met Claudia at Montmartre to go see Sacre Coeur (so pretty!) and then we went to the plaza, where she contemplated buying a painfully expensive painting and then we went to see the Moulin Rouge in the red light district. Passed a supermarché erotique (complete with shopping carts) and found hair gel FINALLY at Monoprix. We went to the Opera again, where I was easily the chicest person alive because we had coffee at the Cafe de la Paix. We also discovered that Longchamp bags are far cheaper in France than in America (LESSON LEARNED) so any return in the future will include shopping.
Then the biggest event of the trip: le Théâtre du Châtelet's production of A Little Night Music with Leslie Caron. Last June was when I first heard that Kristin Scott Thomas was doing a production of ALNM in Paris for one week only, and I had said (slightly facetiously) that I was going no matter what. Eight months later, I was in Paris and Kristin was the one who didn't show, but it didn't matter. What mattered slightly more was that my seat was directly behind a pole, but who needs to see center stage? Nothing important ever happens there.
No really, the show was one of the most phenomenal productions I've ever seen, and I can finally say that I've seen ALNM. It was also the biggest gathering of Anglophones I'd been in in weeks so it was nice to hear English spoken everywhere. Well-worth the money (by the way, screw the Euro) and something I'll remember forever.
Sunday was the day the history dork in me was waiting for: VERSAILLES. It was SO BIG and didn't feel real, but I can't even explain how excited I was to be there. Not so exciting was the fact that the ticket people had no idea if students entered for free or not so we waited on a thousand lines and argued with people who kept telling us different things but OH MY GOD VERSAILLES. Words can't do it justice. I doubt my pictures can do it justice. But OH MY GOD VERSAILLES. I loved it with every history-loving bone in my body. I can't imagine it being in use 300 years ago which I would've liked by oh my God, Versailles. ALSO: GINGER ALE IS READILY AVAILABLE IN FRANCE. So I chugged a two-liter bottle before coming home. Naturally.
After returning to Paris, Claudia and I went back to St. Michel (we had walked through Notre Dame in the morning) to look for the elusive Point Zéro, which is the exact center of Paris. It took us three times, tons of research, and even mapping it out but we STILL couldn't find it. I love the Latin Quarter and Notre Dame is my Parisian happy place; after all, it was the first part of Paris I saw back when I was 10 and we were exiting the metro station for the first time and it took my breath away, so I was ecstatic to be back there.
Paris was frustrating but in a good way. I guess I over-estimated my French abilities and it's not laid out in the most sensible way (at least to me) but I love it terribly and would love to live there in the future. It's just fabulous. What wasn't fabulous was my flight home.
Left Claudia's apartment this morning at 6 a.m. to get to the airport for my 8:25 flight. Oh, my ticket expired when it shouldn't have. Oh, I'm waiting 20 minutes for a train that should have been there in 3. Oh, the RER decided to take a break and just hang in the suburbs at like 7:15. I checked my bag without a hassle, but it's 8:08 and I'm stuck in the security line from hell and am unable to communicate that my flight leaves in 17 minutes and thank God for the French lady who let me cut her in line and then forced me past a group of businessmen. Oh, wait, that was too positive. My duffel bag ripped somewhere between Paris and Prague so it's only the Tiger Woods issue of Vanity Fair that kept my dirty underwear from spilling all over a Boeing 737 or the Prague airport baggage conveyor belt. That's not too bad or anything, right? Also, my second attempt to get my passport stamped by the French was a miserable failure. THANKS, SCHENGEN AREA.
I was hating on Prague all weekend in Paris because it's always gray and cold and sad but when I got back, it was sunny and I didn't recognize most of the city. Of course, it's always good to see that the mullet didn't go out of style when I leave for the weekend. What's good, though, is that the ice is at a minimum and I didn't fear for my life walking from the tram to my dorm. If anyone thinks that Seasonal Affective Disorder is a lie, it isn't. BRING ON THE SUN.
At first I wasn't considering coming here because I was here before, albeit when I was 10 years old and fairly stupid. Now, I (allegedly) speak some French, I know French history fairly well, and I actually appreciate more than a city having a Pizza Hut branch. It was time to return to Paris.
After a lovely 3:15 a.m. departure from bumblefuck, Prague, my ridiculously short flight landed at CDG and I was en route to Paris! When I was there with my parents we stayed in a hotel outside the city center so we had to take the RER, and I was amazed to find that I remembered some of the same buildings from 2000 (for context, I was there before the Euro existed), including my favorite bibliotheque. Got to Paris, was awed by the breathing room and regular sidewalks, met up with Claudia (who, for the record, is a wonderful, tres magnifique host) and crashed before heading to the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs Elysees.
True to form, I can't go on a trip without some epic quest, and this one's was a move of desperation: I needed Garnier hair gel, something that Prague has yet to embrace. I decided that duh, of course I could find my way in a city whose language I can't really speak and haven't been to since I was 10, so I left Claudia and her other visiting friend and went off to find this mysterious American-British pharmacy that would surely have it.
It took almost three hours, plenty of frustrated calls to my mom for directions (sorry!), and a pit stop at a theatre at the Place de la Madeleine to get tickets for an all-French production of A Doll's House (starring Audrey Tatou!!!!!!) but I found my way there. They didn't have what I was looking for, and what they did have was 13 euros (NOT HAPPENING) but it was fine. It was okay because I got to see the Opera Garnier, which, for those of you who know your Leroux/Lloyd Webber, is the Phantom of the Opera opera house, which means it is fabulous.
Speaking of fabulous, everyone looks perfect all the time and I was too young to pick up on it last time but someone teach me the ways of the Gallic because I want to be able to walk the city in 5-inch heels and not want to die.
Anyway, so I saw the sparkly Eiffel Tower and Audrey Tatou in A Doll's House later that night, and while it was beyond cool to see her onstage (she's just as gorgeous as you'd think she'd be), my French is far worse than I estimated it to be and therefore I only caught words like "merci" and "aussi". But it was Audrey Tatou, and Claudia read me the Wikipedia summary beforehand so I at least knew what was happening onstage, no thanks to the French language.
Saturday morning I went to the Pompidou Centre because that's what Claudia and Lu had done while I was on the quest for hair gel (so guido-sounding, ick). The fifth floor (with all the famous art) was closed for renovations, but the exhibit they had was incredible. It was elles@Pompidou and featured work by female artists, including my personal favorite, a huge collage done by the Guerrilla Girls and also a smaller exhibit of collages by Erro. Afterward I met Claudia at Montmartre to go see Sacre Coeur (so pretty!) and then we went to the plaza, where she contemplated buying a painfully expensive painting and then we went to see the Moulin Rouge in the red light district. Passed a supermarché erotique (complete with shopping carts) and found hair gel FINALLY at Monoprix. We went to the Opera again, where I was easily the chicest person alive because we had coffee at the Cafe de la Paix. We also discovered that Longchamp bags are far cheaper in France than in America (LESSON LEARNED) so any return in the future will include shopping.
Then the biggest event of the trip: le Théâtre du Châtelet's production of A Little Night Music with Leslie Caron. Last June was when I first heard that Kristin Scott Thomas was doing a production of ALNM in Paris for one week only, and I had said (slightly facetiously) that I was going no matter what. Eight months later, I was in Paris and Kristin was the one who didn't show, but it didn't matter. What mattered slightly more was that my seat was directly behind a pole, but who needs to see center stage? Nothing important ever happens there.
No really, the show was one of the most phenomenal productions I've ever seen, and I can finally say that I've seen ALNM. It was also the biggest gathering of Anglophones I'd been in in weeks so it was nice to hear English spoken everywhere. Well-worth the money (by the way, screw the Euro) and something I'll remember forever.
Sunday was the day the history dork in me was waiting for: VERSAILLES. It was SO BIG and didn't feel real, but I can't even explain how excited I was to be there. Not so exciting was the fact that the ticket people had no idea if students entered for free or not so we waited on a thousand lines and argued with people who kept telling us different things but OH MY GOD VERSAILLES. Words can't do it justice. I doubt my pictures can do it justice. But OH MY GOD VERSAILLES. I loved it with every history-loving bone in my body. I can't imagine it being in use 300 years ago which I would've liked by oh my God, Versailles. ALSO: GINGER ALE IS READILY AVAILABLE IN FRANCE. So I chugged a two-liter bottle before coming home. Naturally.
After returning to Paris, Claudia and I went back to St. Michel (we had walked through Notre Dame in the morning) to look for the elusive Point Zéro, which is the exact center of Paris. It took us three times, tons of research, and even mapping it out but we STILL couldn't find it. I love the Latin Quarter and Notre Dame is my Parisian happy place; after all, it was the first part of Paris I saw back when I was 10 and we were exiting the metro station for the first time and it took my breath away, so I was ecstatic to be back there.
Paris was frustrating but in a good way. I guess I over-estimated my French abilities and it's not laid out in the most sensible way (at least to me) but I love it terribly and would love to live there in the future. It's just fabulous. What wasn't fabulous was my flight home.
Left Claudia's apartment this morning at 6 a.m. to get to the airport for my 8:25 flight. Oh, my ticket expired when it shouldn't have. Oh, I'm waiting 20 minutes for a train that should have been there in 3. Oh, the RER decided to take a break and just hang in the suburbs at like 7:15. I checked my bag without a hassle, but it's 8:08 and I'm stuck in the security line from hell and am unable to communicate that my flight leaves in 17 minutes and thank God for the French lady who let me cut her in line and then forced me past a group of businessmen. Oh, wait, that was too positive. My duffel bag ripped somewhere between Paris and Prague so it's only the Tiger Woods issue of Vanity Fair that kept my dirty underwear from spilling all over a Boeing 737 or the Prague airport baggage conveyor belt. That's not too bad or anything, right? Also, my second attempt to get my passport stamped by the French was a miserable failure. THANKS, SCHENGEN AREA.
I was hating on Prague all weekend in Paris because it's always gray and cold and sad but when I got back, it was sunny and I didn't recognize most of the city. Of course, it's always good to see that the mullet didn't go out of style when I leave for the weekend. What's good, though, is that the ice is at a minimum and I didn't fear for my life walking from the tram to my dorm. If anyone thinks that Seasonal Affective Disorder is a lie, it isn't. BRING ON THE SUN.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Munich for Aliens
Stephanie and I went to Germany this weekend, in particular, Munich and Füssen. I can't stress enough how beautiful Germany is- really, I've never seen a place like it. First of all, it's light-years ahead of the Czech Republic in terms of infrastructure; crossing the border via bus was like seeing the Iron Curtain fall. Borders are such an arbitrary thing but it was like a whole new world once we entered Germany. After two weeks trying to get used to Prague, it was a nice vacation from the former Soviet bloc.
We took an overnight bus that left midnight on Friday, getting us into Munich at around 6 on Saturday and got to kill time before we decided to try to find the hostel. Turns out that we were literally a minute from the hostel (right by the central train station, Hauptbahhof) and 10 minutes from Marienplatz, the city center, so we got to explore a bit before heading to Füssen to see Neuschwanstein Castle.
Neuschwanstein was a two-hour train ride away but it was SO worth it because this castle is literally the castle of my dreams. It's in the German Alps and was the inspiration for Cinderella's castle, so despite the uphill walk (no buses because of snow) and major schlep into the countryside, it was totally worth it because the castle is really as beautiful as you'd think it would be. We didn't go inside but I know I'll go back someday. I'd dreamed of seeing the castle in person for quite some time so I really can't explain how it made me feel.
Stephanie and I got free welcome drinks from the hostel (by the way, if any of my darling readers are going to Munich, Berlin or Vienna in the future, STAY AT WOMBAT'S) and we started taking advantage of happy hour a bit too much, but at least we were warm as we wandered around Munich. Went back to Marienplatz, wandered aimlessly around from store to store, and then tried to find Prinz Myshkin, this vegetarian restaurant I had read about. It took a few missed turns and a lot of asking for help (people even offered right off the bad- did we really look that lost/American?) but eventually we found it and, um, best restaurant of my life. Really. They even have tap water, which is outrageously rare in Europe.
From there we went on to find the Hofbräuhaus, which is where Hitler declared the theses of the Nazi Party and so on and so forth. Really huge, REALLY German, and totally packed-- thanks, football game. We tried to find a spot at the Hard Rock but that was completely packed too, so we gave up and headed back to the hostel, which, luckily, had a bar and cheap drinks... REALLY cheap drinks. We met a ton of guys from Germany and Spain but sadly no Brits.
On Sunday, Stephanie and I headed to the Olympic stadium where I gave her an impromptu, slightly bastardized history lesson on the hostage crisis of the '72 Olympics. We saw the stadium (so much smaller in person than you'd think it would be) and then the Olympic Village where the crisis actually happened. We ran back to the hostel to try to catch the 11 a.m. walking tour which - surprise! - had been canceled. We hustled off to Dachau with the intent of making it back in time for the 1 p.m. tour. Of course, that was a bust.
Dachau was particularly weird. The weather was fittingly horrible but not in the way that it was during Majdanek. Dachau was just white and bleak and terrible, not in a melodramatic way that Majdanek was but in a very eerie, very realistic way. We didn't get to see the museum or the film, but we walked around the camp. Visiting a concentration camp is never easy, but Dachau was particularly bad in that respect. Seeing the crematorium was really, really rough in a way that again I can't explain. It provoked a really visceral reaction, chills, discomfort, the whole nine yards. I also felt extremely uncomfortable riding on the train to Dachau; I guess I was thinking of the thousands of others who didn't really have a choice about going.
I got to play with a dog, though. That was a plus.
After that, we went back to Marienplatz with the intent of going to the huge bookstore and using their guide books to plan our own walking tour. What we didn't know is that all retail establishments in the south of Germany are closed on Sundays, even in a large city like Munich.
What we also didn't know was that Carnival (or "Fasching," in German) is HUGE in Munich. Everyone in Marienplatz was wearing costumes and throwing confetti and it was a humongous, unexpected party with bands and drum lines and concerts and a million and one food carts. I'm going to steal the description from a different site: "One of the biggest events of the season is Mad Munich ('Munchen Harrisch') on the last Sunday before Shrove Tuesday. During the celebrations thousands of dancers and revellers in fancy dress make their way through the streets to Marienplatz where there are several stages as well as numerous food and drink stalls." It was really amazing to see, especially because we had no idea it was going on and because I wasn't able to get to Venice for Carnevale as I had originally planned. It was amazing to see the normally reserved Germans just running around in costumes.
From there we started trying to hustle and do touristy things, especially as it was our second and final day in Germany. We found the Jewish Museum, which I did alone (Stephanie was really budget-conscious), and it was a really weird experience. It's a very small museum that doesn't feature much in the way of artifacts, and I thought that was weird until a sign explained why (and I feel stupid for not remembering): Hitler & co. destroyed everything during the Holocaust. Duh. The museum also explained different facets of Judaism in museum form - explanations of Shabbat and holidays and so on - so to realize that I was likely one of the few Jewish visitors it was seeing was odd and cool simultaneously.
We headed to Odeonplatz afterward, where we saw the Residenz (a massive palace complex), the National Theatre (really beautiful) and Feldhernhalle, where Hitler held a ton of rallies. Germany is very good about preserving its history, even the really dark parts- relics of World War II are all over the place if you know where to look. From there we went to Konigsplatz (couldn't find what I was looking for) and back to the Hofbräuhaus, where, lo and behold, we got a table! I still can't drink beer for the life of me, but we got strudel and gigantic pretzels. Very Teutonic of us, wish I had been wearing a dirndl as I ate there.
To be honest, I really miss Munich. It was blended history and modernism very well and was clean, spacious, and efficient. It's hard to be back in Prague, which I certainly like and think is beautiful, but I find Prague very frustrating at times-- the timely but slow public transportation system, the language barrier, the feeling of being cramped, the closure of everything around 8 p.m., etc. I guess traveling agrees with me more than being stuck in one place.
There will be pictures soon, I swear.
We took an overnight bus that left midnight on Friday, getting us into Munich at around 6 on Saturday and got to kill time before we decided to try to find the hostel. Turns out that we were literally a minute from the hostel (right by the central train station, Hauptbahhof) and 10 minutes from Marienplatz, the city center, so we got to explore a bit before heading to Füssen to see Neuschwanstein Castle.
Neuschwanstein was a two-hour train ride away but it was SO worth it because this castle is literally the castle of my dreams. It's in the German Alps and was the inspiration for Cinderella's castle, so despite the uphill walk (no buses because of snow) and major schlep into the countryside, it was totally worth it because the castle is really as beautiful as you'd think it would be. We didn't go inside but I know I'll go back someday. I'd dreamed of seeing the castle in person for quite some time so I really can't explain how it made me feel.
Stephanie and I got free welcome drinks from the hostel (by the way, if any of my darling readers are going to Munich, Berlin or Vienna in the future, STAY AT WOMBAT'S) and we started taking advantage of happy hour a bit too much, but at least we were warm as we wandered around Munich. Went back to Marienplatz, wandered aimlessly around from store to store, and then tried to find Prinz Myshkin, this vegetarian restaurant I had read about. It took a few missed turns and a lot of asking for help (people even offered right off the bad- did we really look that lost/American?) but eventually we found it and, um, best restaurant of my life. Really. They even have tap water, which is outrageously rare in Europe.
From there we went on to find the Hofbräuhaus, which is where Hitler declared the theses of the Nazi Party and so on and so forth. Really huge, REALLY German, and totally packed-- thanks, football game. We tried to find a spot at the Hard Rock but that was completely packed too, so we gave up and headed back to the hostel, which, luckily, had a bar and cheap drinks... REALLY cheap drinks. We met a ton of guys from Germany and Spain but sadly no Brits.
On Sunday, Stephanie and I headed to the Olympic stadium where I gave her an impromptu, slightly bastardized history lesson on the hostage crisis of the '72 Olympics. We saw the stadium (so much smaller in person than you'd think it would be) and then the Olympic Village where the crisis actually happened. We ran back to the hostel to try to catch the 11 a.m. walking tour which - surprise! - had been canceled. We hustled off to Dachau with the intent of making it back in time for the 1 p.m. tour. Of course, that was a bust.
Dachau was particularly weird. The weather was fittingly horrible but not in the way that it was during Majdanek. Dachau was just white and bleak and terrible, not in a melodramatic way that Majdanek was but in a very eerie, very realistic way. We didn't get to see the museum or the film, but we walked around the camp. Visiting a concentration camp is never easy, but Dachau was particularly bad in that respect. Seeing the crematorium was really, really rough in a way that again I can't explain. It provoked a really visceral reaction, chills, discomfort, the whole nine yards. I also felt extremely uncomfortable riding on the train to Dachau; I guess I was thinking of the thousands of others who didn't really have a choice about going.
I got to play with a dog, though. That was a plus.
After that, we went back to Marienplatz with the intent of going to the huge bookstore and using their guide books to plan our own walking tour. What we didn't know is that all retail establishments in the south of Germany are closed on Sundays, even in a large city like Munich.
What we also didn't know was that Carnival (or "Fasching," in German) is HUGE in Munich. Everyone in Marienplatz was wearing costumes and throwing confetti and it was a humongous, unexpected party with bands and drum lines and concerts and a million and one food carts. I'm going to steal the description from a different site: "One of the biggest events of the season is Mad Munich ('Munchen Harrisch') on the last Sunday before Shrove Tuesday. During the celebrations thousands of dancers and revellers in fancy dress make their way through the streets to Marienplatz where there are several stages as well as numerous food and drink stalls." It was really amazing to see, especially because we had no idea it was going on and because I wasn't able to get to Venice for Carnevale as I had originally planned. It was amazing to see the normally reserved Germans just running around in costumes.
From there we started trying to hustle and do touristy things, especially as it was our second and final day in Germany. We found the Jewish Museum, which I did alone (Stephanie was really budget-conscious), and it was a really weird experience. It's a very small museum that doesn't feature much in the way of artifacts, and I thought that was weird until a sign explained why (and I feel stupid for not remembering): Hitler & co. destroyed everything during the Holocaust. Duh. The museum also explained different facets of Judaism in museum form - explanations of Shabbat and holidays and so on - so to realize that I was likely one of the few Jewish visitors it was seeing was odd and cool simultaneously.
We headed to Odeonplatz afterward, where we saw the Residenz (a massive palace complex), the National Theatre (really beautiful) and Feldhernhalle, where Hitler held a ton of rallies. Germany is very good about preserving its history, even the really dark parts- relics of World War II are all over the place if you know where to look. From there we went to Konigsplatz (couldn't find what I was looking for) and back to the Hofbräuhaus, where, lo and behold, we got a table! I still can't drink beer for the life of me, but we got strudel and gigantic pretzels. Very Teutonic of us, wish I had been wearing a dirndl as I ate there.
To be honest, I really miss Munich. It was blended history and modernism very well and was clean, spacious, and efficient. It's hard to be back in Prague, which I certainly like and think is beautiful, but I find Prague very frustrating at times-- the timely but slow public transportation system, the language barrier, the feeling of being cramped, the closure of everything around 8 p.m., etc. I guess traveling agrees with me more than being stuck in one place.
There will be pictures soon, I swear.
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