And look at that… nearly another
week has gone by. The time is really going much too fast. My finals first paper
is due on Monday, finals are in three weeks, and then I travel Europe for two
and a half weeks. Damn. I really need more time here. I’m starting to feel like
I haven’t seen enough of Prague, which is a really depressing realization,
especially because it’s not like I have wasted my time. In a positive light
though, I think that was an inevitable realization, because it takes years to
get to know a city, and a city as diverse and rich as Prague is no exception.
Okay – a quick rundown of what I’ve
neglected in the blog from the past few weeks.
Not last Monday, but the prior one,
CIEE hosted a second Bowling & Pool night. This one was definitely attended
by fewer people than the first one, but it was a good time still. Last time I
shied away from the bowling, because, well, I’m terrible and didn’t want to
embarrass myself. This time however, I decided that life would go on, even if I
was humiliated and played a game and a half. I was beating Devin when we had to
stop to start the tournament, and after starting with a strike, I was feeling
good. Then the tournament started and things went downhill. Devin and I were on
a team and I think there was a three-frame stretch where we combined for six or
seven pins. We came back strong though and lost with a respectable spread of
only 20 or so after Devin managed two strikes in a row (and I started the 10th
frame with a strike as well).
Then Devin and I were challenged to
two games of pool. Not great billiards players ourselves, we found some
encouragement by the poor start of our opponents, but were unable to
capitalize. Still, persistence pays off and though we conceded leads in both
games, we won both games when our opposition scratched on the 8 ball. Tsk, tsk.
Ball safety people. The second game was even more dramatic than the first,
because they had seen the unfortunate demise of their predecessors and should have
learned. So, after they had called the proper pocket and coolly sunk the 8
ball, they started celebrating. Too soon. The cue ball, full of English started
rolling back to the near corner pocket and fell whilst our opponents were
jumping up and down celebrating their victory. Didn’t their mom ever teach them
that it’s not over until the fat lady sings?
After bowling and pool, we stopped
by a birthday party for a classmate at his apartment for a little where we
indulged in cakes and whipped cream. In fact, pretty soon the cake was gone and
I started just putting a pile of whipped cream on my plate and eating it with a
fork. Probably not the healthiest choice, but delicious none-the-less, unfortunately
it also made me miss home (Alex, I hope you still shamelessly eat whipped
cream).
Last time I wrote about learning to
bake bread with Hannah. But I’ve started baking a loaf of bread nearly every
other day. Baking is quickly becoming one of my favorite activities, especially
for dinner parties when I have friends over. I’ve had several dinner parties
over the last couple weeks – my way of still socializing with out going out to
eat as frequently – and they’ve been terrifically fun nights filled with good
food, warm bread, and delightful company, inevitably culminating in dancing to
such classic tunes as “Whip My Hair” by Willow Smith or “Lean Like A Cholo” by
Down.
Next up – Cinema Dance: The
mysterious weekend of dancing in the woods for three days to earn three college
credits is fast approaching but few details have yet to be released. So far all
I know is that I will leave at 2:30 on Thursday and return Sunday evening and
that the class costs a little over $100 for food and lodging. Fun fact – they
don’t tell you there’s a charge until three weeks before the retreat at which
point it is too late to do anything except pay since you can’t pick up another
class before the end of the semester and you can’t drop the class and still
“graduate” from the CIEE. Anyway, they also make you travel down to FAMU in
order to pay for the class. In an email they outline the procedure (come at so
and so time with so and so many Crowns), and a few days later I have the proper
amount of change, so I make my way down the river to FAMU.
I have a few hours in between
classes, but when I arrive at FAMU, I have no idea where I am, so I ask the
concierge where I can find the representative of the program (who’s name I
smartly wrote down in my phone, since I knew I wouldn’t remember it). He
directs me up to the fourth floor, but when I get there, every door is closed
and none of the name tags are right. Thoroughly confused, I get a bit nervous
and finally build up enough courage to ask where I am and where I should go. I
stop a woman in the hallway who tells me that I need to be on the first floor
in the international office. Well that makes sense! But then why did the
concierge send to the fourth floor? The door is well marked, but closed. I
knock, but receive no response. I try the handle, but it was locked. At this
point I got a little upset because I’d wasted nearly my entire break in between
classes to try and pay for Cinema Dance only to come up empty and have to come
back the next day.
The good news though: when I came
back the next day, I knew where I was going, I knew who I was looking for (I
still had her name in my phone) and the door was open. It took me all of five
minutes to sign up and I was quickly back on my way to class.
I still have no idea what the class
is about though and it seems like they’re keeping the details close to their
chest. I have heard only great things about the class though, so I’m not too
worried. The only real issue however is that I have five friends visiting that
weekend: three coming in on Saturday and Charl and one of his friends coming
Sunday. I’m hoping that Mira can show them around Sunday if they need any
guidance and that I don’t get in too late on Sunday. I can’t even explain how
happy I am to see Charl though. I don’t think I have seen him since last
Christmas break, which is just too long.
As I’m sure you are all aware,
yesterday was Thanksgiving. Some of you may be unaware however that
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and the fact that I missed it this year may
be one of the hardest parts about studying abroad in the fall. In America,
Thanksgiving is a natural divide, before which retailers do not advertise for
Christmas specials. In Prague however, with no Thanksgiving holiday, there is
no break and Christmas markets opened almost two weeks before Thanksgiving.
What would generally be frowned upon in America proved to be a pleasant
surprise on the other side of the pond. Markets popped up all around Prague,
filling squares with stalls decorated with ornaments and wreaths and a large
decorated Christmas tree in the center. I don’t have too much use for buying
ornaments for the family, but the markets are still a lot of fun to frequent
and I have found a bunch of scarves and some fresh persimmon. I don’t know if
I’ve ever eaten persimmon before coming to Prague, but I was walking around a
market between Old Town Square and Wenceslas Square, buying vegetables for a
dinner and munching on a persimmon the other day – it was such a great
experience and one that I just couldn’t have in America.
Last wrap-up point before I get to
my present weekend (which may actually have to wait for the next post for the
most part): Yesterday before a DELICIOUS thanksgiving dinner, cooked almost
entirely by Emily and to which I’ll get to in a second, I finally got over to
Petrin. Petrin is a large park in Mala Strana (the Little Town) overlooking
Prague Castle and Old Town. The park is huge and has a miniature replica of the
Eifel Tower at the top, which you can walk up for 50 kc. I wanted to make it to
the top of the hill before sunset to get a few photos in before darkness
descended. That didn’t quite happen. The sun sets at 4:30 now, which is a bit
ridiculous, but life goes on. After finally finding the gondola that goes up
the hill, I refused to be deterred by the night and so I took a few photos of
the city with the shining lights of the city. I’m hoping some of them worked
out, but I was trying some things with multiple exposures, so we’ll see what
happens.
I stayed too long at Petrin though,
so I was a little late to Thanksgiving dinner. Dinner hadn’t started though,
and in fact was still in the oven. The large brick of Brie cheese with pecans
and cranberry and loaves of bread had just been set on the table, so I quickly
capitalized on that to begin the festivities. Thanksgiving away from my family
is just not the same. I had a great time, the food was delicious, the company
fun, but it wasn’t family and Thanksgiving is a holiday for family. I know that
one day I’ll start my own Thanksgiving tradition with my family, but I’m not
ready for that yet.
When I got home from dinner, I got
to Skype with my family who was all together at my aunt and uncle’s new house.
Ugh, I was so jealous, but it was so great to see them all – even if it was
just through a computer screen. I finally got to sleep around two, only to have
to wake up at 6:30 for a trip to Vienna. More on that after I get some sleep,
but highlights so far: Christmas Markets feasts with swords and a tower of
beer.
G’night ya’ll. – oh and let me just
apologize for the incoherence of this post, I’m exhausted.
Before another
week passes without a blog update, I figure I should put a few minutes in to
catch up. Life is just getting a bit busier as I am slowly realizing that I
have three term papers I need to prepare in the next few weeks while also
trying to get out and see the city and see all of the things I’ve missed.
Highlights (and things of note) of the last week (as far as I can remember)
1) Last Thursday
I went over to Devin’s to meet two of his friends (Emma and Harper) who were
visiting for the weekend. We, Devin, Martha, Emma, Harper & I, spent most
of the night just talking in Devin’s apartment with small excursions to pick up
some wine, or in my case also a dinner, and ended the night on the floor of
Devin’s room listening to music and watching the Daily Show.
2) As I already
mentioned, I have a few term papers due in the next few weeks. Being me, I’ve
decided that I should start worrying about them, because I feel like I have not
done nearly enough work or research to be able to produce a paper to which I
would want to attach my name. With that in mind, I did a little research last
weekend, but yesterday, on my day off for International Students Day, I was
much more productive and finally put some words on a page which I took as a
good sign – even if I’ll need to edit them in the future. The topics are
actually kind of interesting, and I like my history topic the best in which I’m
trying to determine why Charles IV is such a beloved ruler since he doesn’t
seem to have done that much and yet
he is generally acknowledged as the greatest Czech king or as bringing out a
Golden Age in Prague. For Transatlantic Relations, I’m tentatively writing
about German nationalism and pan-Germanism leading up to WWI, during the Weimar
Republic and with the rise of Nazism, but for that one I don’t really have a
clear aim yet, so it’s just a mess at the moment. In Economics of Transition I
will be looking at an economy that has transitioned from a command market into
a free(r) market system with the fall of the Soviet Union and see what has
worked and what has not. But that one is a group project and much shorter, so
I’m not as worried about it.
3) Definitely
one of my highlights from this past week was my Friday night cooking lesson
with Hannah! Hannah is an amazing chef and she’s been making delicious dinners
for her roommates and friends all semester. I’d only seen her in action once
before when I attended a group-cooking lesson at her apartment for fried cheese
(see
here) but that was enough and I asked her if she would teach me how to cook
other things too. Well, I finally got my wish on Friday. I went over to her
place and first learned how to make bread. Starting with the basics, I got some
tips on how to mix the yeast, how to knead and then on how to let the dough
rise and the like.
With the dough
made and needing to rise, we turned our attention to the rest of the meal.
Hannah has a bit of a sweet tooth (which is great)
so in addition to roasted vegetables (eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, etc.) and
sweet potato mashed potatoes, we also planned to bake Apple Cider Donuts with
homemade caramel to dip them in. We needed materials though so we made a quick
trip to a huge grocery store (in comparison to the hole in the wall I normally
shop in). This should have been a routine trip; pick up yeast, sugar, cream,
some vegetables, etc.
Of course life
isn’t routine. Just as we were finishing up, with our basket full of food, a
security guard comes up to us and speaks a few sentences in rapid Czech.
Neither Hannah nor I could make heads or tails of what this gentleman was
trying to tell us and stood there with a blank stare on our face. He got the
hint and with broken English and hand gestures he tried to translate, “Excuse
me… please, uh, finish your shopping… quickly… there is a… ummm… bomba.” The
last word was accentuated by a furious frenzy of hand waving. A little confused
and unsure if we understood him correctly, he directed us toward the exit as he
proceeded to warn other customers. Unwilling to sacrifice the sugar though, I
went to find a package of sugar and then we got in line to check out since they
were still open.
When we finally
finished checking out, the mall had been nearly completely evacuated (except
for those people behind us in line) and police officers barred patrons from
reentering into the mall. A crowd of a at least a few hundred gathered in front
of the mall – either to watch or to continue their shopping as soon as they
were allowed back inside the mall – but Hannah and I didn’t wait around and
quickly vacated the premises to return to the safety of her apartment.
The food turned
out beautifully and though I’m a little nervous to try to make the donuts/caramel
on my own, I think I can do it after seeing how it was done which is pretty
exciting and as soon as I have burned off the calories from the dozen+ donuts I
ate I’ll be attempting them on my own. Did you know caramel was just sugar,
cream and butter? Nom.
4) On Saturday I
went to Telč, a
small town in southern Moravia, with Martha for the day. Sinzy, a classmate of
mine in Czech, had given a presentation on the town for her immersion project
and accompanied the presentation with some really beautiful photos that she had
taken during her time there (she’s a fabulous photographer though, so I wasn’t
really surprised). As a result of the presentation though, I had decided that I
wanted to go myself and see if I might be able to take a few photos of my own
(some should be up on Shutters & Sounds soon hopefully). Initially, I
planned to go alone, but in the end I invited a few friends and Martha said
yes, so off we went for an 8 AM departure. 8 AM departures suck by the way. In
order to make them, I had to wake up at 6:30. 6:30 on a Friday is early.
Anyway, I made it to the bus stop on time and off we went.
When we arrived
it was just around lunch time so we made it to the town square, which is
actually a UNESCO world heritage site, full of Baroque and Renaissance
architecture. Martha brought her Lonely Planet guidebook and looked up a nice
little restaurant for lunch. I definitely had too much for lunch ordering both
a dish of goulash and a plate of trout, but it was good.
The rest of the
day was spent wandering through castles and churches, parks and farm fields,
taking pictures and talking.
After a few
hours of this, we stopped in for some ice cream and a cool little coffee house,
which was showing the photography of Antonin
Bina and was fun to look at while we ate.
The day ended as
we arrived at the bus stop just in time to catch the last few minutes of a
beautiful sunset. I don’t know if any of my pictures do it justice (I haven’t
really looked at them yet), but I’m hoping some of them turned out. I have a
feeling that I won’t really have a time to edit many of my photos until I get
back to the states, but who knows, maybe I’ll find a few minutes to edit a few before
then.
Quickly – before
I have to run off to class – one of the first places we saw in Telč was the graveyard. We were walking to the square, but
decided to stop and take a look at it in case we wouldn’t have time later in the
day. We were talking a bit when Martha had one of my favorite quotes of the day
saying, “Graveyards are like a kindergarten class nappy, so many souls resting
quietly.” I don’t know if I’ve ever tried to compare graveyards to
kindergarteners before, but the quote amused me, so I thought I would share it.
Yesterday I made
guacamole again (I’ve made it a few times in the past couple of weeks tweaking
my recipe as I go) and this time I invited Emily over to have dinner with Drew
and myself. I may not be able to cook many things, but I can make a mean
guacamole. Emily brought three bottles of wine, all of the ingredients
necessary for Chicken Parmesan, and Molly. I also roasted some vegetables,
which I’ve gotten better and better at and I think I’ve finally figured out a
way to brown them, which I’m quite pleased about.
Together, Emily
and I crafted a meal that would probably be considered unorthodox by most food
connoisseurs, and while I can understand why they may frown on mashing styles
together as we did, for the most part, it worked. Admittedly, there were points
that the flavors clashed too severely (like trying to drink red wine with
guacamole – that’s a no-no), but these served as a clear indicator to pause one
activity to resume only after the taste of the other had dissipated and
disappeared from your taste buds.
Dinner was great
though – we had chips and guacamole, roasted potatoes, onions, carrots and bell
peppers, pesto pasta, chicken parmesan, and wine. I had some Madhatters playing
in the background so I got to brag a bit about UW over dinner which is always
fun.
After dinner, we
went to a bar to meet up with some people. It was the first time I’d been out
on a weeknight in a while and it was a lot of fun. I didn’t have anything more
to drink at the bar but I still had a good time just being out and talking with
people.
When I finally
got to sleep around 1, I had 5 ½ hours of sleep to look forward to before
having to wake up for a phone call to a friend for some advice regarding my
future and potential summer internships. Paul was really helpful and helped
settle my nerves a bit in that I have a few months to go before most firms even
start recruiting and that for the most part I am doing the right things
already, so that was reassuring. Still though, it now looks like I’ll be
applying to write a senior thesis.
On the topic of
the thesis – when I was walking home tonight I was thinking about a recent
conversation I had with a classmate here about potentially regulating
prostitution. My friend argued against the idea because she thought that by
regulating prostitution you are implicitly legitimizing the practices, which
she sees as inherently degrading. I can see where she’s coming from but the
argument itself was not really what I was concerned with tonight. Rather, I
want to know what the economic consequences are of regulating prostitution and
drugs. Markets – if you’ll allow me to refer to the drug and sex trade as
markets – can be regulated in various ways and different policies will play out
differently. A popular argument (though clearly not popular enough given Prop
19’s recent failure in California) is that legalizing marijuana and regulating
its distribution and sale can raise huge tax receipts for the state, which is
badly in need of funds. There are fewer ethical arguments against weed these
days than trafficking in sex, so where does that leave regulation of
prostitution? What would happen if the instead of a Prohibition approach (where
the entire trade is illegal) the government was to regulate but discourage it
through market controls? A regulated industry is no longer a free market
situation and so the law of supply and demand does not apply. If the government
were to institute a price floor and create a shortage, would it not be possible
to reduce the number of prostitutes, increase the welfare of those still in the
market, and also monitor the industry to prevent abuses? Would regulating the sex
trade have perverse and undesirable consequences? Though I don’t see America
legitimizing prostitution in the near future – we are a far too religious and
socially conservative nation – the exercise is not without precedent: there’s
the famous red light district in Amsterdam, Hamburg has a lesser-known red
light district of its own, and Prague recently passed legislation to regulate
and tax the industry (I believe this will go into effect in the new year). Anyway,
I think it would be a really interesting thesis topic to analyze and compare (economic)
policy as it relates to markets that can be considered morally reprehensible and
see the consequences – politically, economically, socially, etc. – I wonder if
I’d be allowed to research it…
In (un)related
news, I’m reading the Godfather right now – I can’t remember the last time I
read a book that was this engrossing. I bring it to school every morning and
though I don’t read much at the study center (where I’m easily distracted by
the internet and less so by homework) I read it while I walk and since that’s
pretty much the only time I find time to read it during the week, I have found
that I have literally slowed my walk down so as to give me more time. Tonight,
I even stopped just so I could finish a chapter before my light disappeared. Amazing.
Well that was a
whirlwind of a weekend! I’m on my way home from Berlin right now after getting
in Thursday night. I’m exhausted, but I find myself in a train car with an
outlet, so I figure II might as well be efficient and get some blogging in
before I forget all of the fun little stories about this weekend.
Two weekends in
a row in Germany in vastly different areas and under quite different
circumstances provide me the opportunity to compare the two experiences in a
variety of ways. Berlin feels much more like a big cosmopolitan city and Munich
feels like a country town that time forgot about in some ways. Berlin is almost
completely new, built on top of the rubble left after the devastating bombings
of WWII. Of course, Munich was also razed in WWII, but whereas Munich could be
faithfully reconstructed and was, Berlin was not afforded such a luxury and
consequently has a very modern look to it. The need to reconstruct Berlin
coupled with the fact that much of Berlin remained under Communist rule for the
better part of 40 years means Berlin can have the feeling of a concrete jungle
at times. Munich, in contrast, has a small town feel with their beer halls and
cobble stone streets.
I am not saying
that I did not enjoy Berlin. I enjoyed it thoroughly and at times took an
almost personal satisfaction when my friends expressed their appreciation for
the city (more on that later), but I think my reaction is to the coldness that
urban life can have. Maybe I’m just “too nice” for a big city as my brother
suggested during my college search, or maybe it was because I was travelling
with friends, but I did not meet nearly as many people on this trip as I did
last weekend.
I did meet one
fellow, Anton, who was a really cool guy. We met last night while Corinne,
Allison and I were making our way to the club and waiting at the train station
for the S-Bahn. Anton didn’t make the best first impression on me because he
offered his small flask of Jagermeister to the girls instead of throwing it
out. To me, that’s a red flag, and thankfully the girls didn’t accept it. After
talking for a bit we found out that Anton was visiting Berlin for a few days
and had felt dejected after the bouncers at one of the clubs had arbitrarily
denied him entrance and wanted to go home. In the end, Anton joined us and off
we went to the Fritz club.
Back on point though, this weekend demonstrated just how differently traveling
can be when you’re on your own versus in a group.
Scheduling is
vastly different. When you’re on your own, you are on your own schedule
completely and do what you want to
do, when you want to do it. In a
group, a group dynamic is developed out of necessity and the different roles
each player takes are actually quite interesting. Sometimes there are groups
where there is no clear leader, as was the case for much of the weekend, when a
significant amount of time is devoted simply to trying to determine the plan of
action. No one wants to assert their opinion afraid that they may offend the
others or desire something other than what the group wants. This is quite
inefficient and in many ways it is similar to a prisoners’ dilemma: agents have
a variety of options to chose from each with their own payoffs, but in this
case, as opposed to the classic example of prisoners detention by the police,
collusion is prevented not by the forceful separation of the agents but because
they simply do not want to share their thoughts for fear of offending others.
So what actually
happened this weekend? Well, it got off to a bit of a turbulent start. I was
able to get on an earlier train to Berlin because I am done with classes at
3:30 on Thursdays, so by 4:31 I was on the train and headed to Berlin. One of
the cars was malfunctioning though (not sure how), so by the time we arrived in
Berlin, we were 45 minutes behind schedule. This wasn’t so much a problem as
much as a minor inconvenience. I still arrived in Berlin nearly an hour before
Corinne’s flight was due to land so I could make my way to the hostel
leisurely. Here’s where the issues came in.
Corinne had
booked the hostel for me so I had never looked into it the way I should have. I
had told myself several times that I should look it up online, find a map,
directions from the train station, etc., but I never did. So, Thursday night I
found myself in the giant train station that is Berlin Hauptbahnhof, utterly
lost and with €2.30 in my pocket. I was afraid to withdraw money because my
account had been dangerously low when I left Prague. I went to the service
counter and asked a few questions, found out which stop I needed to go to and
bought a one-way metro ticket. When I got off the train though, I still had no
idea where the hostel was. I asked a gentlemen on the corner and he pointed me
toward the zoo (turns out this was not the right direction at all), but on the
way across the street, the plastic bag holding the champagne I had bought as a
gift for Corinne, and her friends, tore and the champagne bottle shattered on
the sidewalk. After reeling for a moment at the realization that my gift was
lost, a gust of wind swept through and blew my hat into the street and on
coming traffic. Luckily, the light had just turned green so the cars had not
yet started to move so I was able to chase it down and pick it up before a car
had the chance to run it over. When I found that the man on the corner had led
me in the wrong direction I was quite worried because I had no idea where I was
or what I was going to do. I ended up finding the hostel without any further
drama though – it was kitty corner from where the man had directed me to go,
that is to say, exactly where he himself had been when he gave me the
directions.
When I
approached the concierge I realized once again how foolish I had been not too
coordinate more with Corinne about the reservation. There was a reservation for
Goldberg, but they had not yet checked in. The concierge said that I could go
and wait up in the room instead of in the lobby, but I hesitated when he said
that the reservation was for six nights (I had planned to stay in Berlin for
three nights, and Corinne and I had not discussed what her plans were, but I
had no reason to believe they were different from my own). It is probably 11:30
at this point and I realized my most foolish oversight of the entire
preparation process: I had not taken Corinne’s phone number so I could not call
her to confirm I was in the right place. I elected to wait in the lobby of the
hostel and do some homework in the mean time. I waited and watched as the door
swung open time and again, admitting guest after guest into the lobby.
Minutes before
the clock struck one in the morning, the door swung open once again and this
time Corinne, Rich and Allison walked in luggage in tow. It was a huge relief
to see them as it confirmed that I had indeed gone to the right hostel and
because I had grown very tired and was looking forward to sleep.
Before I could
sleep however, we had to take care of the reservation so that I did not pay for
three nights for which I would not be in Berlin. Though the concierge was
initially hesitant because of the nature of the reservation, in the end he
obliged me and gave me the same discount Corinne’s father had been able to
negotiate for us but for three nights only. Corinne generously covered the bill
for me because I did not have the cash and they wanted to charge me an
additional €5 to use a credit card (I would pay her back the next day after I
had withdrawn money). By the time we settled won in our room, I was introduced
to Allison and Rich and we brushed our teeth it was nearly three in the
morning.
We woke up the
next morning at ten, had a nice breakfast and then took the free tour of Berlin
with the same company that had offered the tours in Budapest and Munich. This
time my tour guide’s name was Sam, a spry little Brit, bubbling with energy who
had studied the history of the Third Reich (I believe) before becoming a tour
guide to remain in Berlin. The tour started at the Brandenburg Gates and ended
on Museum Island and lasted nearly four hours.
Throughout the
tour I kept recalling my last visit to Berlin four and a half years ago with my
German class, and actually, I thought about my high school German class quite a
bit this weekend. While walking around Berlin I kept thinking back to my junior
year spring break in high school when I had gone to Hamburg and Berlin with my
German class on an exchange program. I remembered Parizan Platz underneath the
Brandenburg Gates on which the Goddess Victory eternally looks, a not so subtle
allusion to Germany’s victory over France only a few years after Napoleon had
walked triumphal through the gates to conquer the city, and I remembered the
museum in the corner of the square in which my entire German class had fallen
asleep with a twinge of regret and sympathy for my teacher who had always tried
to provide us with the best education; I remember the Memorial to the Murdered
Jews of Europe, one of my favorite memorials, with columns that grow unevenly
in height until they tower over you when you’re in the center of the square,
and where I had taken one of my favorite photos I have ever taken; I remembered
the memorial to the Nazi book burnings, the subterranean shelve space with
enough space to house the thousands of volumes burned; and of course I
remembered the Reichstag building, its beautiful glass dome, the way the dome
juxtaposes the sturdy and imposing building underneath, and again a photo I
took of my friend Frank in the shadows of a column at the Reichstag. I was
quite pleased with the amount of information I retained from my previous visit
to Germany and from German class. Many of the facts that Sam provided in her
tour, I already knew and could recall with only the slightest prompt. Still the
tour was beneficial and I appreciated the opportunity to see the city from
another’s perspective and I learned new (or relearned forgotten) information,
like the plaque by the memorial for the burned books which said, “that which
starts with the burning of books ends with the burning of men” written by a
German Jew in the 18th century about the Spanish Inquisition, but
which could be aptly applied to the Holocaust and the Nazi regime in Germany in
the build up to WWII.
While Corinne
and Allison are conversational in Spanish and Rich is nearly fluent, none of
them spoke any German. I would not say I’m conversational in German, not even
close, but by some stroke of luck, I have retained just enough German that I
can express my most elementary thoughts in a number of situations. When we went
out to eat, I was able to order almost entirely in German. When we were lost, I
could ask for directions, and after asking for the directions to be repeated
two or three times, understand where we needed to go. I was even able to help
Corinne when she needed to go to the doctor on Saturday.
I think the
doctor is a particularly good example because our hostel tried to direct us
toward an English-speaking district of Berlin in the hopes that the doctors
would be able to understand Corinne. Corinne had not wanted to go to the
doctor, fearing that it would take up the entire day, but I think she would
agree, it was good that I insisted we go. The hospital was really far away,
well outside of the city center, and actually beyond the borders of our map. I
had gotten directions from the concierge, but they proved to be largely useless
because we were told to go to the Platz am der Wilden Eber (the Place of the
Wild Pigs) and no one knew where that was.
The neighborhood
around the hospital’s train stop was very pretty and so while we wandered about
looking for the hospital, we looked around and took in the sights. I found a
couple out walking with their baby in a stroller and asked them if they knew
where the clinic that we were looking for was located. They said they did and
that we could follow them and that they would deliver us to the hospital. It
was a very sweet offer and one that I did not refuse. We walked behind them for
nearly a mile when all of a sudden they disappeared into a drive way and by the
time we got to the drive way ourselves all we saw were the coat tails of the
father as he walked into his house.
A little
confused, I did not give up and when I saw a man walking his dog down the other
side of the sidewalk, I asked him if he knew where the clinic was while Allison
and Corinne petted his dog. He said it was right around the corner and so off
we went, but not before the girls learned to say dog in German (Hund).
The clinic
reminded me more of an insane asylum than a clinic. I thought of the clinic as
a combination of the ski resort in the Shining and the asylum in which Dustin
Hoffman lives in Rainman. It was a beautiful, large, and elaborate building.
The front lawn was more of a courtyard with gravel paths, white benches, flower
gardens and lined with pines trees. A stone staircase led up to the front door
made of heavy wood. Inside, the hospital combined the necessities of a hospital
(a clean sanitary environment) with comforts of a home (comfortable upholstered
chairs, oil paintings, and a grand wooden staircase).
As nice as the
clinic appeared, it did not have a doctor on call that could help Corinne and
so we were directed to another hospital. Corinne took down the directions and
off we went. After determining where we needed to go by talking to a very
friendly lady at a bus station (after getting lost once again) we finally made
our way to a real hospital. The experience though long (most of which was
transit time) was relatively painless in that nothing really drastic occurred
and Corinne was prescribed medicine, which have helped significantly.
With the doctor
out of the way, we had a late lunch / early dinner at a nice restaurant / bar
still outside of town. I only had a French Onion soup, the first bowl I’ve had
since New York two summers ago, so while I sipped on my soup, I was able to
relive that lovely dinner in Manhattan with friends in my mind and smile.
After dinner we
went to the Reichstag since it was still early to see the dome. It was a really
fun day, even if it was due to unfortunate circumstances. We got to see a part
of Berlin that we would never have seen and eat in a restaurant we would never
have found had it not been for the fact that Corinne needed a doctor.
The Reichstag
was also really cool. I hadn’t been there in over four years and while I had
very strong memories of it, e.g. taking the photo of Frank or sitting in the
blue chairs of parliament, I had gone during midday and now we I would see it
when the sun had set and darkness had arrived in full force. I did not remember
how bad the lines were and I think that is because we had had an organized and
schedule visit whereas this time we were not so prepared. It took us nearly an
hour to get into the building and at least another half of an hour to pass
through security and reach the dome itself. Though the line wasn’t desirable, I
still thought it was worth the visit. I took a few photos of the dome and some
surrounding buildings with my wide lens and a long exposure by using my camera
bag as a tripod and I think they actually turned out quite well.
To round out the
night, we grabbed a quick second dinner (for me a Döner Kebab) and ate in the
hostel lobby before readying ourselves for the clubs.
Aside from my
brief visit to a club in Krakow in which I did not have the chance to dance, I
have not been to a club since September at least. It was good to get back into
the swing of things, though I will readily admit that it has taken a toll on my
functioning today. I am just exhausted getting only four hours of sleep last
night before having to wake up and check out of the hostel.
Before we met
Anton, we had tried to go to another club in a really cool, if sketchy, area of
town: it was less than well lit, with graffiti covering nearly every wall and
bottles of alcohol littering the ground. Still, it was a popular area for
nightclubs and I believe there are at least three in the area. We tried to go
into one with a Russian and three Germans, but when we got to the door, the
bouncer asked to see Corinne’s passport. Getting carded is rare in Europe, but
even more rare is a 21+ club, which is exactly what this one was.
Unfortunately, Corinne is not 21 yet, and so she was not allowed to enter the
club. Luckily for me, I did not enter first otherwise I would have been out the
cover fee and quite a sourpuss. After getting rejected, we decided that we
should go to the Fritz club, a large club a really cool building that we had
seen earlier and heard good things about.
On the way to
Fritz, Anton bought a kebab because he was hungry but when we got to the club, he
still had most of his kebab to eat so I waited with him while the girls went on
ahead (this one wasn’t 21+ and so they had no trouble entering). It turned out
to work out to my benefit though because the girls weren’t actually that difficult to find in the club (I
had forgotten my cell in the room so I had to hunt them down) and Anton offered
me the last bit of his kebab, which I accepted with only slight hesitation (you
didn’t think I would deny free food did you?). Fritz is three clubs in one
(electro/house, R&B/hip-hop, and rock) and after I found the girls we made
our way to the R&B/hip-hop room for some dancing. The first five or six
songs they played were fantastic and I had a great time dancing and singing
along, even after Anton had gone to the bathroom and the girls went to buy a
drink and I was in the middle of the floor by myself. After a while though, the
soundtrack changed decidedly in the direction of house music and though still
fun to dance to, since I don’t know the house all that well, I had to think a
bit more about the music which mitigated the amount of fun I was having. My
energy levels also dissipated after an hour or two on the dance floor and I had
to call it a night around 3:30.
Anton left with
me and we got to talk a bit on the train about all sorts of things. He asked if
I was planning on visiting Sweden, where he’s from, and I said I was hesitant
because of the incredibly high price levels. He responded that if I did want to
visit, he could probably set me up with free lodgings with one of his friends
anywhere in the country, a really generous offer, but not all together strange
in my experience of younger Europeans. He did also agree with me that prices
were quite high in Sweden and that’s one reason he loves to travel to other
places (like when he went to New York, it was cheap for him – unfair). He told me how he buys bottles of alcohol
in foreign countries because prices for liquor in Sweden are astronomical and
no one but the exceptionally rich can afford to buy drinks at a bar or club. I
took this to mean that liquor stores were also expensive, but just on a
comparable level with the rest of the country, though it turns out that there
is exactly one company allowed to
sell alcohol in the country of Sweden and some of the liquor laws in the
country are crazy. Aside from the foreign concept of a monopoly in an industry
without high entry costs like utilities, the company is also not allowed to
sell liquor in quantities larger than 1 liter (and it may be smaller, I can’t
quite remember) and 80-90% of the price of alcohol is tax. The rational for the
tax, according to Anton, is that alcohol sales are supposed to pay for all of
the bills from government programs like prisons (he named a few other examples
which I cannot remember at the moment). I just don’t understand how Swedes
stand for that large of a sin tax on alcohol. I asked if there was a large home
brewing culture in Sweden (as there is in the Czech republic where alcohol is
relatively cheap) and to my surprise there is not.
Anton and I
parted ways outside of my hostel and I had just showered and brushed my teeth
for bed when Rich came back to the room at 5 and we both promptly went to bed.
I woke up at
9:30 this morning (I’m still not sure how I got out of bed), checked out of my
room by 10, had breakfast and returned to the room (using Rich’s key) to
continue packing up and get ready for a quick photo expedition back to the
shady club district from the night before, before my 12:36 train. Well, I made
it to the club area, took some photos, though I’m not sure if I actually like
any of them, and then made my way back to the hostel to pick up my other bag
around 11:15. I had left myself just
enough time to make my train. I get my bags, say goodbye to everyone (who are
still sleeping soundly) and head toward the train station. It was halfway
between my first and second stop that I realized I had forgotten my hat in the
room. My awesome German hat which I am buying pins to put on for the rest of my
trip and which I’ve been assured I will dispose of by the time I finish my
senior year (we’ll see). I was not pleased. I had to get off, turn around and
make my way back to the hostel to pick it up because I didn’t want to have to
make Corinne ship the hat to me in Prague and risk damaging it. I get the hat
and make it to the main train station at 12:41, just minutes after the train to
Prague left. It wasn’t the end of the world, another train would leave at 2:36
and so I waited, ate a small lunch I had packed for the train and did some
homework. Really, the only issue is that the train station is not heated (or at
least not where I was) because there are large holes in the walls where the
heat escapes (like where the trains enter the building) so it got quite chilly.
Now, I’ve
written for nearly five hours and will be pulling into Praha Hlvani Nadrazi
shortly. Praha: the closest thing I have to a home at the moment. It’s kind of
crazy that that is only the case for the next month and a half before I become
a transient for a few weeks and then return to America. Where has the time
gone? How many more weekend adventures will I have? Will I be able to figure
out how to be more efficient with my time in Prague so that I can see more of
the city? I would hate to feel like I have squandered an opportunity come
December. I guess all I can do is be conscious of what I need to do and then
execute.
I love Bavaria!
The people, the culture, the towns, the mountains, the castles, the beer, the
strudel! Honestly, I think I just had three of the best days of my life. The
strudel alone made it a fantastic weekend, but coupled with everything else, it
was truly exceptional.
As I mentioned
in my last post, I traveled to Munich alone this weekend, and I am pleased to
report, I am well suited to travelling solo. Even though I am an introvert, it
can be a little intimidating to spend upwards of 72 hours on your own. Though I
was on my own, I never felt alone. It’s a pretty cool sensation and I recommend
it to anyone willing to try it.
Tuesday morning,
I took a tour of the city center. I had taken a similar tour in Budapest a few
weeks ago, which was great, so I had high expectations after spending a day
with Adam. Micháel definitely met those expectations. A charismatic Irishman,
Micháel was able to rouse chuckles from the bellies of more than a dozen
tourists ranging in ages from young to well-traveled as he guided us through
the cobbled streets of Munich. I love these tours because I don’t just see the
sights that a city has to offer and get a little bit of history along the way
(which I would probably miss if I did it on my own), but I also get an
opportunity to meet people. On this tour I bounced around trying to start a
conversation with a few different people, but at the coffee break (Starbucks?
Really? There was no other coffee house in Munich?) I sat down and spoke with a
group of Australian tourists, first about their travels and later about
politics.
Though I’m sure
I’ve been advised against talking politics on a first date, I often find myself
discussing them. Politics are a great topic in my opinion because it’s
something that many people feel very strongly about so I can get a lot of
enthusiasm from someone relatively easily and am able to find out a lot about
someone very quickly. In this case, I found out that the Family First party in
Australia is too extreme for Aaron.
And just like
that, a friendship was born. As soon as Aaron opened up, I kind of stuck by
him. When the tour ended, Micháel offered to take us to a restaurant nearby
that offered traditional Bavarian plates for good prices. Before I get to that
though, some of the places I saw and topics discussed on my tour: Kristalnacht,
Viktualienmarkt, the history of the beer gardens, Marienplatz, the legend of
the Devil’s footprint and Frauenkirche, origins of Oktoberfest, the new (old)
town hall and the old (new) town hall, and the world famous Glockenspiel to
name a few.
Of all the
places and stories we heard, I think my favorite was in the Frauenkirche.
Munich has a troubled history as the home of Hitler’s Nazi party and the
capital of the Third Reich and it is something with which they deal to this
day. One consequence of this support was that near the end of WWII when the
tide of the war was swinging in the allies’ favor, Munich was bombed heavily.
Many structures were badly damaged, but, as Micháel said “the only good thing
Hitler ever did,” the Nazis knew this would happen and before the bombings
started took photos of every inch of the city. So, when the dust settled and
the war ended, reconstruction of Munich possible on a level completely
different from other parts of Germany where new structures were simply built on
top of the old ones. Munich now retains an old town feel that many other German
cities lost after the war. So how does this relate to the Frauenkirche? The
church too suffered badly from the bombings and initially the city did not have
enough money to fund its restoration, so private doors helped to pay for it,
including the Jewish community. On the roof of the church there are now
insignia of every donor and for the Jewish community there is a menorah. The
Jewish contribution was to repay the debt to priests of the church who before
the outbreak of violence had taken documents and religious artifacts from the
synagogues and hid them in the church risking their lives in so doing and when
the war ended, the church returned everything. I thought that was a pretty
great story, though, Micháel definitely delivered it much more eloquently than
I just did. Sorry.
Another
historical factoid that I found interesting: whereas in many medieval towns,
Maypoles were used for a religious celebration, in Bavaria, they also served as
signposts for businesses in towns (think of the signs on the sides of highways
letting you know where you can pull off for a McDonalds or Best Western).
Munich, as the largest city and the center of commerce (ever since they
rerouted trade routes through the city by burning down a bridge upriver and
constructing their own) justifiably has the largest Maypole. It is really quite
impressive and at each of the six levels of industry represented on the
Maypole, beer is the focal point (so typically Bavarian).
The tour ended
at the Maypole and three of us, Aaron, Joe, and myself, joined Micháel for
lunch. I ate a healthy sized portion of Wiener schnitzel in a mushroom sauce
with a local wheat beer (it’s called Weiss, how was I to say no?). Over lunch,
I got to know Joe, Aaron and Micháel a bit better. Micháel moved to Munich
about a year ago to be with a girlfriend, though they’re no longer together,
and Michael is actually planning to move to Dubai soon to be a professional
pilot for an airline. Meanwhile Joe is a fellow American. He is in the National
Guard and is from Louisiana, though is now living in Florida I believe. Aaron,
a dreadlocked Australian pseudo-“metal head”, opera-singing traveler, was the
most fascinating character to me. He has a natural energy that radiates from
him such that I found myself hanging onto every word he said. I got to spend a
bit of one-on-one time with him too because he offered to let me use his photo
cord so that I could off-load some of the pictures on my camera (I forgot mine
in Prague) saving me the hassle of having to worry about filling up my chip
(which I ended up doing anyway ending my trip with space for 2 more photos).
In Aaron’s
hostel lobby, we met an Austrian rapper in town recording his album. He goes by
the name TMC 186 and though I haven’t had a chance to give him a listen yet, my
curiosity is piqued. Wearing a crisp white pair of Air Force 1s, an blue and
orange Adidas track jacket (zipped up to the top) and a black on black New York
Yankees hat, this fellow, who’s given name I never caught, was dressed to the T
in MTV fashion. On the one hand I thought it was interesting just how strongly
America’s influence could be felt in Europe. I know the urban apparel trend followed
is not exactly a counter-culture or poorly represented in the media, but still,
to see TMC dressed exactly like any rapper on in the middle of the last decade
would be (when Nelly came out with Air Force 1s) was a bit of a shock. Of
course, when he said his favorite rapper was Cam’Ron that he was kind of like
an Austrian Dipset, and that he liked the “punch-line style” of rap best, it
all made a little more sense. To each his own, I suppose. Back to the actual
point of this story though: that I even had this conversation with TMC at all
was awesome. It’s a conversation I wouldn’t have had and an experience I would
have missed if I had been traveling with friends and not alone; that’s food for
thought.
Around 4, I said
goodbye to Aaron temporarily, as we agreed to meet up again at 6 for the “Beer
Challenge.” It should be noted that our tour guide said explicitly that the
beer challenge should not be thought of as a “sloppy bar crawl.” Instead,
Sandeman’s New Munich Tours provides cultural information about beer culture in
Bavaria while frequenting three different beer halls. It was definitely the way
to bar hop. I had one beer at each bar even though we stayed for an hour at
each stop before ending back at the hostel and I even got to eat some strudel
in the middle, which improves any night. I learned a Bavarian beer hall song on
the steps outside of a church. I saw a table of Bavarians dressed in
lederhosen, leg warmers, hats and the whole “get up” including crests and hats!
My friend Alice, an adorable little Australian, tried to surreptitiously take
photos of them over her shoulder but her clandestine activities were quickly discovered.
As retribution Alice was “forced” to sit with them where they fed her fox
sausage and almost tricked into picking up the tab for the entire table (when
they slipped the coaster with their beer count under her drink).
After we left
this beer hall, we ended up at one more before ending the night at the hostel
next door to my own. In the hostel, Stacey, who had been keeping an eye on us
all night trying to determine who would be awarded with the prize of a free
tour (essentially rewarding the social butterfly of the night who took fullest
advantage of the evening) nominated four finalists: Alice, Aaron, Dave and…
myself! Taken aback that I was even considered initially, upon reflection it
may not be a surprising. I may be quiet when I am not in my comfort zone, but
early on in the evening, the people on the tour had helped me feel quite
comfortable with them: Hallie and Jo, two delightful Australian ladies, talked
with me like an old friend, I joked with Dave, an jolly Irishman, and asked his
opinion on Boondock Saints (he hadn’t seen it, but I assigned it to him as
homework), Nicole lived in Minnesota (working at the Mayo Clinic) and we talked
about how great Minnesota is, etc. and so even though I was clearly the
youngest of the group, I felt at ease nearly immediately. I was plenty content
with even being in the running for the award, and I didn’t want a competition
of sorts in which I could be embarrassed, so I started a chant in the hostel
for Alice. It is not that Dave or Aaron were undeserving, I just thought it was
awesome that she had sat and chatted with the table of Bavarians in the beer
hall. In short order, I had the entire tour chanting and cheers-ing Alice’s
name and all around making a rukus in the bar and Stacey handed Alice the
award. Success.
I found myself
collapsing, exhausted, into bed after a great day around two.
When I woke up
in the morning, it was right around nine, and I knew I would miss the 9:15
departure to Füssen with Stacey (who was leading a tour to see the castle,
Neuschwanstein). Undeterred, I prepared myself to face the day and made my way
to the train station to find a later train and make the tour on my own.
I made the next
train to Füssen, so I was only an hour behind the tour. The train from Munich
to Füssen is around two hours, so nothing to extravagant and I arrived just
before one in the afternoon. I hadn’t eaten yet in the day, and with my stomach
grumbling, I ventured into town to find some food. I looked at a few different
restaurants, finally settling on a little deli where I bought a bratwurst and a
schnitzel. I brought my lunch back to the bus station and ate while I waited for
the bus to arrive and shuttle me up to the foothills below the castle.
In the shadows
of the castle an even smaller town is nestled into the hillside. With the feel
of a ski town mixed and imbued with a Bavarian essence, the attraction of the
village was undeniable. I finally succumbed to the force of the town and bought
myself a hat (thanks Mom and Dad).
Feeling mightily
prepared for a hike into the German Alps, I started my ascent. The path up to
the castle is paved and easy enough. Since the floor was flat, I could lift my
eyes and take in my surroundings. The forests on both sides were old and rich.
Tree trunks shot into the sky in straight lines and only more trunks obscured
my vision – the canopy resting 20 meters above my head at least. The region had
also experienced a recent snowfall, so I saw my first snow of the season. Even
though there was snow on the ground, the air was warm and I found myself
shedding layers as the day wore on. It was like skiing in the spring:
wonderful.
I have no idea
how long the hike up to the castle took. That was part of the beauty of this
day trip: I had no agenda. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to accomplish,
but refused to establish an itinerary. Even my return to Munich was up for
debate and I had four different trains that left from Füssen to choose from.
Since I was
hiking alone, I had a lot of time to myself and could just take in life. More
than once, stuck by the beauty of my surroundings, I reflected on how fortunate
I am and how great my life is. One thought that kept reoccurring, and filled my
chest with pride, was a sense that I was following in the footsteps of my
uncle, Johnny, who traveled to New Zealand years ago and returned with stories
and photographs. I know I’m not in New Zealand, and I can only hope to have
stories and photos to rival his, but still, it was a growing up moment for me
when I realized that I no longer had to dream about the day that I would travel
the world, but was actually experiencing it. It’s a weird moment when you realize
a dream (formulated or abstract) that you’ve held on to since you were a child,
but not all together an unpleasant one. In fact, I found it quite rewarding.
So, thank you Uncle Johnny for the inspiration.
I finally made
it to the top of the hill and walked around the castle. It is in fantastic
shape for a structure built hundreds of years ago. I can also understand why
Walt Disney would use it as inspiration for his Disney Palace, it’s setting is
majestic inspiring hope and wonder desire.
When I decided
to head back toward Füssen, I made what I believe to be one of my best
decisions thus far on the trip – I walked. Only the manageable distance of 5 km
separate Füssen and the town of Hohenschwangau (where the castle is) and
there’s a paved path along the road the entire way with relatively simple to
follow directions. Still, I grew tired of the path from time to time and
wandered into meadows and onto farmlands. I think I finally understand what my
brother finds so appealing about the outdoors. Though I will admit, I was
pleased to sleep in a bed at the end of the day, I can see a trip in our future
and hope he is still amenable to the idea.
Finally arriving
back in Füssen, I had an hour to spare before a train would leave to return to
Munich. I had a delicious, if rushed, dinner at a restaurant and stopped into a
souvenir store to buy a pin for my hat before running to the train station. The
train was scheduled to depart at 6:05 and when I arrived at 6:04:59 the train
was already pulling out of the station. The conductor saw me however and taking
pity on me, stopped the train to allow me to board. I was greeted by friendly
jeers of “dumm kopf” by a group of locals to which I smiled and thought how
fortunate I had been. The jeers had apparently been quite loud however, because
as I navigated the train to find my seat, I met a young woman who turned to me,
smiled, and said jokingly, “So you must be the dumm kopf.” I reveled in the
moment before falling into a deep sleep.
I arrived back
in Munich around 8, and when I got back to my room in the hostel, I was
surprised to see people in the room. Turns out they were Americans, spending
the semester in Switzerland, and traveling to Munich for the weekend. We got to
talking and again, I found them very friendly and willing to talk. After a bit
of chitchat, they were heading out to dinner and a night on the town and I
asked if I could join them for dessert (I had some strudeling to do), the
agreed and off we went. We went to the Hofbraühaus and met up with three of
their friends who had already commandeered a table in the back of the hall. We
talked and joked for several hours before I had to call it a night and return
to the hostel to recharge my batteries.
Being Friday
night of Halloween weekend, I wondered what my friends were doing to celebrate
the holiday and felt a little home sick wishing that I could be home with them.
This is a fairly common theme for me even though I’m having a great time and am
quite aware that I am meeting people I would never have the chance to interact
with under “normal” circumstances. I guess sometimes even great things have
drawbacks. Still, I know that this time away is not detrimental to my
friendships, not the good ones at least, and I’m hoping it will even strengthen
them in the end by diminishing my need for constant contact/interaction (though
email and Skype are not helping me there…).
Random thought:
remember when email wasn’t a word recognized in a dictionary and it was
electronic mail? Crazy how fast the world changes.
On Saturday,
after having checked out of my room, I tried to return my lock that I had
rented from the hostel to receive my deposit, but since I needed to keep my
bags locked up in the back lockers for the day before I got on the train I
found myself out of the 7 euro due to me. This wouldn’t have been a problem,
except that I had completely exhausted my cash that I had withdrawn on
Wednesday, my American Express is not accepted everywhere, and the cherry on
top, I had “reached my weekly maximum withdrawal” on my check card. So… I ate a
rice cracker for breakfast/lunch.
Now, with a good
five hours to pass before my train departed from the main station, I walked
around the city. I stopped first at Theresienwiese, Therese’s Meadow, the meadow that held the marriage
festivities between the Bavarian crown prince Ludwig and Therese of Saxony in
1810 and today is the location of Oktoberfest. I missed Oktoberfest this year,
and at this point, the field is a giant (de)construction zone, but it was still
fun to see if only so that I could have a sense of the scale of Oktoberfest.
From Theresienwiese, I walked to the other side of
the city to see the English gardens, an enormous urban park. The park was
beautiful, but my favorite part was the artificial wave in the stream that runs
through the park inspiring, at all times of day, surfers to grab their boards
and hit the waves in the middle of Munich. When I arrived there were seven men
with wetsuits on taking turns on the waves and quite a crowd had gathered to witness
this peculiar phenomenon.
About twenty minutes after watching the surfers my
stomach grumbled angrily at me demanding food, so I made my way back to the
hostel. On the way though, I stumbled upon the shopping district of Munich and
was equally impressed with the arrangement of courtiers and jewelers as I was
with the cars that lined the streets in front of the stores. One particularly
memorable stretch had an Audi S5, a Rolls Royce, a Jaguar, (a Mini Cooper,), a
Bentley, and a Mercedes.
When
I finally got my money for the lock deposit returned to me, I promptly bought a
Döner Kebab and a baguette for my first dinner (my second one would have to
wait until I arrived back in Prague).
The
train ride back to Prague was a really fascinating one. I shared a cabin with
two very friendly Czech women from Plzen, who, as soon as I helped them lift
their luggage into the racks, became very talkative. After making small talk
for a little while, I asked them if I could interview for my Czech class. The
obliged and I began with questions about the typical Czech and their neighbors.
They
commented about how the typical Czech likes to have a garden at which point one
of the women launched into an anecdote about a Czech woman who married an
American. The details were obscured in translation, but from what I understood,
when the husband visited his wife’s hometown of Plzen and they walked in the
surrounding region he was so surprised by the gardens in which vegetables were
grown to the point that he took videos to show to his class – he was a
professor of ecology.
These
women thought very highly of Hungarians too, clearly favoring them above any of
their other neighbors. Calling them clever and likable, they told stories about
how a Hungarian had worked with Einstein to discover refrigerators – I have not
yet had time to check the facts of this tale, though I doubt its legitimacy.
They also credited a Hungarian with the discovery of dipping sweet cherries in
chocolate – a dessert they called Cherie Amore. I suspect much of their
admiration of Hungarians stemmed from the Hungarian uprising in 1956, which they
spoke of with a great, almost personal, pride.
When
the conversation transitioned to life before and after 1989, they had interesting
insights about America. During that conversation the women mentioned how their
uncle had fought in WWII with the allies and that without America “there
wouldn’t be freedom in Europe.” They appreciated America for weakening
communism and were grateful for the ultimate demise of the Soviet Union;
however, these days they found themselves significantly more critical of
America especially with regards to the Taliban. It seemed to me that they
blamed America for the Taliban and their radicalized movement. This analysis is
not unfounded if you look at America’s early support of the Taliban against the
Soviet Union providing monetary support and military training, but is a
critique not often heard in America.
The
women also mentioned how upon visiting China, George Bush, who was president at
the time, criticized China for their poor record on human rights referencing
Tiananmen Square, but Obama did not say anything on the subject. One woman said
explicitly that she “agreed with Fidel Castro” when he said, “Obama is a good
idealistic young man but he lives in a world where his dreams are not
realizable.” I don’t think I’ve EVER had a conversation with someone who explicitly
agrees with Castro.
The
women also contended that America, the land of the free, is not free at all.
Instead the society is dictated by the desires of the gun industry and the
military-industrial complex. Drawing again upon personal experience, one of the
women told a story about how one of her friends had gone to school at Harvard
in the early 1990s, married a Harvard trained doctor (though he himself was
also not American), but had to leave because she could not continue to live in
a society in which she did not feel free. They emigrated back to the Czech
Republic, her home country, and have lived in Plzen ever since. I have heard
criticisms of America as not being a land of the free before, even Tocqueville
mentions it in his work Democracy in
America, but I can’t say that I have ever felt “unfree.” Maybe I’m
fortunate, or maybe I’m naïve, but I consider myself quite fortunate in the
perceived opportunities afforded to me by my family, community, and country. On
another note, the tale shared by the women highlights another issue that is
often referred to in the papers: the export of education by America. It used to
be the case that individuals educated in America would remain in the states,
but this is increasingly not the case and these women had first hand experience
with this phenomenon.
The
most interesting component of the conversation about life before and after 1989
was how their views of communism and the west contrasted starkly from the
younger generation with whom I have also asked. Nearly everyone I’ve talked to
has the same set of stock answers: communism was hard and people were poor,
there were long cues to buy everything, but life was simple, everyone was
secure, everyone had a job. What was different this time around, however, was
that these women had grown up under communism. It was what they knew. That is
not to say that they liked communism – as I’ve already mentioned, they were
quite proud of the Hungarians for their rebellion in ’56 – but that they
defended it in a way that the younger people I’ve talked to have not. Never
explicitly complimenting the communist regime, they muted their criticism in an
interesting way that I can’t describe. They also found many more faults with a
free market system than the younger generation who had never worked under the
communist structure. In their minds, the free market results in a rat race to a
pot of gold. I got the impression that it was their opinion that the open
market compelled people to abandon their morality in their pursuit of riches.
I
know there are Americans who criticize aspects of the open market, that the
discrepancy between the rich and the poor is too large, that our government
should do more to help the less fortunate. I know this because I am one of
them, but I have rarely heard someone espouse anything but conservative
economic theory. Conservative here is not a political term, but academic and
refers to a general faith in the market. And yet here were two women from
Plzen, having just returned from a trip previously prohibited to them,
proposing the merits of a structured economy with a focus on equality.
Our
last topic of conversation is one close to my heart: I asked them what their
opinions were of the Palestine-Israel issue. I tried to frame the question in
order not to bias them or indicate an answer that I would want to hear, but
still, I think they suspected that I had a hidden agenda and this was anything
but an innocent question (I mean how often does someone you just meet ask you
your thoughts about the issues in the Middle East?). Before answering they
insisted that I share my thoughts first, and so I delivered what I believed to
be the most political answer possible, in that I mean, that I said a few things
without saying much of anything. I still wanted to keep my cards close to my
chest and see if I could get something out of them that would be valuable. In
the end I succeeded in a very interesting, and quite frightening way.
The
women said that the Palestinian-Israeli conflict was not really a problem that
should exist and that it is a consequence of colonialism – a European created
issue. Of course, with this as the starting point, the perspective of the
Israelis is never going to be good, and true to form, shortly after they
referenced the land as Palestinian. This means that Israel is an occupying
force and that if the Jews were to just leave, the problem in conflict in the
Middle East would be resolved. These women, who were not overtly anti-Semitic, justified
the continued attacks on Israel and Israeli citizens by labeling Israelis as
occupiers, as the issue. They didn’t say Israel was at fault for so and so and
listed grievances, but simply being there. That was what I took from the
conversation. I was shocked.
I
didn’t make a big scene – I still had a few hours on the train with these women
– so I politely ceased conversation shortly after and retreated into my
thoughts.
I
think that just about sums up my weekend in Bavaria. Wonderful, smooth, and
fun. The only downers were the end of my conversation with the women on the
train and losing my sunglasses case somewhere in Füssen.
Sorry about the slight delay in getting this posted. Missing everyone.
