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:
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)