Party at the Monastery

A few days ago I was releasing some of my wanderlust by exploring the world on Google Earth. I was visiting some of the places I have previously traveled to and written about, places I’ve traveled to and haven’t gotten around to writing about, as well as the various placed I’ve lived. While I was exploring the Giessen area, I stumbled upon a nearby Monastery and was reminded of what may be my most unique “cultural” experience during my time in Germany.

University sponsored parties were already something unusual for me. In Germany, anyone can be served beer in public starting at the age of 16, and the legal age for hard alcohol is 18. So by the time everyone gets to university, everybody is of legal age. Nothing for the universities to worry about. So, at least at Uni-Giessen, university sponsored parties are common place, and there’s usually one at least once a month.

I went to the first Uni party of the semester. It was thrown in the two story academic building that houses four major lecture halls. It was like a gigantic house party, except first of all, it was legal, and two different beer tables (one on each floor) replaced the typical keg(s). In addition to a DJ upstairs, there was live music for half the night on the ground floor. Another table sold shots on the first floor and Vodka-Red Bulls upstairs. Once you got past the idea you were at a party in a school building, it was a pretty typical party.

While I was busy seeing Europe, I missed the next Uni party, which was the same as the first; I also missed the party at the university’s sports complex. Sounds like that party was a good one. It produced some legendary stories…

I finally stopped traveling and was in Giessen for a weekend in the middle of June. That weekend, the Uni-party was in the courtyard of a Monastery. …yes, a Monastery. For whatever reason, the exchange students started dropping out on by one (something about having exams to study for and papers to write… ), and by the time the evening of the party rolled around, Karl and I were the only ones going.

The party was at Kloster Schiffenberg, and the French girls told us there was a bus that ran from the city center to Schiffenberg. As Karl and I were running around the Altstadt, trying to find where the bus left from, we found out that the bus to Schiffenberg only runs on Sundays. Luckily, we also ran into our favorite waitress from the Pizza Haus, who informed us that Kloster Schiffenberg wasn’t actually IN Schiffenberg, and if we were up for it, it was probably walk-able from the edge of town where our dorms were. So Karl and I took the bus back to our edge of town and then walked nearly an hour through the woods as the sun started to set. Thanks to randomly stumbling on a sign with a map on it, we continued our trek onward through a forest I would best describe as some sort of poorly advertised state park with a single hiking trail. We were starting to question where the heck we were when we heard the music coming through the forest from the hill up ahead. By that time, the sun had almost completely set, and hundreds of fire flies were dancing around the trees like fairies or sprites as if I was in some sort of real-life Disney movie or fairy tale.

The party itself was like any other. It was good, it was fun, but it was nothing special. …oh yeah, except that it was put on by the university and located in the courtyard of a monastery, a feeling I never really got over.

America to the Rescue

...so I apparently don't have an application installed to watch videos online on the daily show's website (I tried to download and install the app, but the video still doesn't play from the website). However, embedding them into my blog allows me to watch them.

I was looking for the particular video which I have seen and even shared in the past. After taking a History of the Modern Middle East course during my semester in Rome last fall, I like to share this video(from August, 2007), as I feel it does a reasonably accurate job depicting America's foreign policy pertaining to the Middle East over the last several decades (despite its comedic intent).

Attempting to embed a video

Personal Domestic Policy

About a month ago, republican presidential candidate John McCain's nomination of Alaska Governor Sarah Palin came out of left field. I was skeptical about her nomination, and even though I had already determined who would be receiving my vote in November, I tried to keep an open mind and give her a chance.

She seemed to energize and excite a lot of the republican base and many others who were not already energized and excited by Barack Obama's democratic nomination for president. Even though I disagree with many of her political stances, was baffled by the McCain campaign's strategy to abandon the only argument they seemed to have at the time (Obama is "inexperienced"), and saw her quickly learn the McCain campaign's tactics to twist Obama's statements and ideas and turn them into ridiculous and often incoherent arguments, I thought the excitement she was generating was good for American politics. (Maybe US voter turnout will crack 60% for the first time since the Vietnam War era).

But now I'm surprised the McCain campaign is still allowing Sarah Palin to not only appear in public but open her mouth in public (in front of rolling cameras, even). It's pathetic and embarassing when the script for a Saturday Night Live skit featuring Tina Fey can be taken almost verbatim from a Palin interview.

Readers of my blog from the very beginning might recall a YouTube video featuring 2007's Miss Teen South Carolina, which I linked in one of my first posts while en route to Italy.
Whether you consider yourself a Republican, Democrat, or Independant; whether you can see through the contradictory campaign policies, arguments, "logic", and catch phrases Palin spews, or you choose to blindly agree; whether you are a fan of Keith Olbermann or abandoned him when he left ESPN's SportsCenter in favor of expressing his political views; I don't think it is much of a stretch to make a connection or two between Sarah Palin and the former Miss Teen South Carolina. (Feel free to fast forward to about 0:48 in the Palin video.)

Former beauty queens and incoherent thoughts? Mrs. Palin, are you sure you're against gay marriage? That's a shame. You and Miss South Carolina seem like a perfect match.

Surprise!

I brought my laptop with to Morocco primarily so that I could unload pictures from my camera during the 5 nights that I am here. I didn't want to be limited to the 500 8 megapixel pictures that can fit on my 1 GB memory card. In the first three nights, I've already accumulated 414 and counting.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the Riad we're staying in has wireless internet, so on two occasions, I've already checked email and facebook from my bed or the rooftop terrace.

After finally figuring out that بحث المدونة الإلكترونية means "sign in" in Arabic, I'm able to login to my blog.

I won't take the time right now to go into too many details; I'll save that for my return. But
There have been many highlights so far. So of which include the 30 cent fresh squeezed orange juice one can purchase at one of the 30+ stalls and the camel ride on the way to a waterfall outside of Marrakech, at the beginnings of the Atlas mountains.


Another side note: my title is Adam's World Tour: Eurotrip
I think I need a new title.
I'm not in Europe anymore

Rome [revisited]

At the beginning of my settlement in Germany, I won €20 for a trip to Erfurt for two girls and myself. Well, actually Roman won it for me the day before my showing me all around Giessen, unknowingly giving me half of the answers to the scavenger hunt the Auslandsamt was sending us on in our first day of class.

I skipped out on those €20 to play tour guide for Krista in Rome. The two cities she had her heart set on seeing in her three weeks in Europe were Paris and Rome. And why not? They’re two of my most favorite cities in the world. At first, I was hesitant buying tickets and spending one of my valuable weekends in Europe to go some place I’ve already been. But immediately after buying tickets, I got more and more excited by the day.

Coincidentally, I found out Chase and Izzy had tickets to go to Rome that weekend as well. We were staying in separate places, but we were on the exact same flight each way. It made for good in-flight company. But upon arrival in Rome, we accidentally got separated in the metro station. Krista and I made it down the escalator to the platforms. Chase and Izzy went missing. …or maybe to them, we went missing. They waited near the top of the escalator for us while we, noticing they were missing once we hit the platforms, waited near the bottom. We skipped the first subway that ran passed, but when they still weren’t down the escalator when the second train arrived, I said screw it and hopped on. Without either Chase’s or Izzy’s number, Krista and I didn’t see either until the bus back to the airport three days later.

We stayed in a B&B in a courtyard off the main street that runs east of the Coliseum. This put us about 5 minutes (walking) from the Metro A line to the east, and the same distance from the Coliseum stop on the Metro B line to the west. It meant that regardless of where we were heading in the city, even if we turned right coming out of the courtyard towards the Metro A line, we always glanced left first to catch a glimpse of the amazing arena sitting at the end of the street.

On day one, I took Krista on a whirlwind tour through Rome. Obviously, the Coliseum was the first sight in our day. Even if we hadn’t wanted it to be, we couldn’t help it. It was right there. Unavoidable. We actually just gazed at it from the outside. My inside knowledge led us passed the Coliseum to the Palatino. The same ticket covers the Coliseum, Palatino, and Roman Forum. And many less people head into the Palatino. It means shorter lines. Less time spent waiting impatiently in lines.

After the Palatino, we walked through the Forum, and then our hunger mission led us away from the Coliseum. After a bite to eat at a Pizzeria near Area Sacra (one JD led me to just one week before I left Rome last semester), and after letting the animal lover play with the cats in the cat sanctuary, Krista and I continued on to Campo de Fiori, Piazza Navona, and a fantastic gelateria on our way to the Pantheon. The gelateria served up a bowl of fresh strawberries which we topped with lemon gelato. Heavenly. From there, we threw our coins into the Trevi to guarantee ourselves a return to Rome, and we stumbled across the Roma city police marching band on our way back to the B&B to catch our collective breath.

For a reasonably priced dinner, we headed to a familiar restaurant in Trestevere, Carlo Menta (where I first ate Ox tail), coincidentally passing a rose garden near Circo Massimo which I had just learned about the day before thanks to Roman exchange student Silvia. After dinner, I dragged Krista to Mr. Brown’s – My apartment's happy hour bar from last semester – for a drink and to be able to rub it in to all my Roman roommates back in the states. Talk about Karma. Mr. Browns wasn’t quite the same. I didn’t recognize any of the people working, and all I did was miss my roommates. We left after my one beer.

Our walk back to our place provided the opportunity for some night pictures.

Day Two was filled with the main sights. The Vatican Museums filled the entire morning. Lunch was at a café right across the street from the Coliseum, after which we went inside using the tickets we’d purchased the day before (which just so happen to be valid for two days). A spur of the moment “What’s Next?” decision led us south, out of the old city walls to St. Paul’s Basilica, a sight I didn’t see in my entire three and a half months last semester in Rome but I did see in my first visit there with my family. For comparison’s sake, we made our way all the way back to St. Peter’s. But the line was too long, so we waited until Monday to enter. Nighttime brought about the Spanish Steps, and Piazza della Repubblica.

Sunday was a day at the beach, after spending the morning at Piazza del Popolo and the Pincio. We made our way once again back to the Vatican for night photos. We hadn’t taken any night shots of the Vatican yet, and it was our last night in Roma.

Monday we checked out. We hit the inside of St. Peter’s Basilica, got rejected at by the Baths of Caracalla (they closed at 2pm on Mondays. We showed up at 2:40pm). I tried to lead us out to scenic Appian Way for our last hours in Rome, but I must have picked the wrong bus, because what looked familiar at the beginning became unfamiliar after 15 minutes. We wound up in the fascist built EUR area, grabbed a bite to eat, snapped a picture, and headed back to the center of the city.

We returned to the heart of Rome on the 175 bus. The street names started looking familiar. Then the shops on the street started looking familiar. We passed the store where Justin wowed the sales clerks 9 months previously, scrambling and then solving a Rubik’s cube in the two and a half minutes it took the clerk to process Justin’s information in order to buy and register a cell phone. It would have only taken the clerk two minutes had he not been looking up in amazement every 10 seconds.

As we passed that store, I knew exactly where the bus was taking us. We ran right by Stazion Trastevere, down Viale di Trastevere and passed Pizza Boom and my second floor apartment I lived in for three and a half marvelous months. I wanted to yell “Stop the bus!” but I knew none of the roommates were within 4,000 miles and we didn’t live there anymore. …not that the Roman bus driver would have understood “stop the bus” anyway…

After a successful hunt for souvenirs and unexpectedly passing the same anti-war graffiti I had snapped a picture of three years ago, Krista and I capped off my return to Rome with that delicious gelato near the Pantheon.

We ran into Chase and Izzy at the bus stop to go back to the airport for our 10pm flight, and made it back to Giessen watching the sunrise from the train.

Krista flew home just a few hours later.

Traveler's Review:

I was definitely spoiled by Budapest.

Both cities, Budapest and Prague, have two hills on the west bank of a river with much of the city lying on the east bank. Castles sit atop both main hills in each city. Prague castle itself clobbers Buda castle as far as things to see (Buda castle only houses two museums inside, but is still enjoyable from the outside [see Budapest photos]). With that said, Prague’s castle made me feel like I was in Disneyland or on a Hollywood set. It still held my interest, but I have the feeling Prague castle rivals Cinderella’s as far as annual summer visitors. The tourists were already swarming, and it was only the beginning of May.

Buda castle plus Fishermen’s Bastion on Buda Hill are enough to edge by Prague castle on my book. The views of Budapest from the Citadel atop its second hill easily beat Prague’s second hill, which is mostly green with either wooded trails or an open park. I’m sure it would be an excellent place to relax if I was a Prague resident, but the views from the top, while pretty, can’t compare with Budapest. And while I would say the average building is prettier in Prague than in Budapest, Budapest is beautiful still.

Prague is Budapest with many, many, many more annoying tourists while lacking Budapest’s Turkish baths.

Work in Progress

For anyone desperately waiting for an update, I finished my Norway story and hid it down by "April 19th" to keep things roughly in chronological order.

Much more will becoming very soon, but it's 2:15am my time, so I won't be getting around to it for another 10 hours.

Prague

Here's for all of you who won't be able to wait for me to get back from Morocco. I leave tonight to catch my early morning flight tomorrow. Then I'll be in Marrakesh for 4 nights and Ouarzazate for a night in between. A total of 5 nights on a new continent.

Pictures from Prague are posted. I won't have time to get around to captions before I leave. I added a few of Krista's pictures as well. Hers are the ones stamped with the yellow date in the corners. You'll notice some appear to be taken from a bus. This isn't an illusion. After our two car Czech train stopped, we were informed we had to go the rest of the way by bus to the next station - a complete surprise because it didn't happen on the way to Prague, just the return. It was also an amazing example of communicating without a common language, as the Czechs on the train spoke neither English nor German. Following her pictures are the 9 train stations we went thru on our way back (Minus Giessen, forgot to take that picture).

My idea of fun is riding on a train for twelve hours. I would have taken a bus for eight hours, but when I heard the extra four hour alternative, I just couldn’t pass it up.

OK, actually, the bus schedule with Eurolines was such that a bus left Frankfurt late Thursday night and got into Prague at about 6am Friday. Return was either Sunday evening at 5pm getting back at midnight, or leaving Prague Sunday at 10pm and getting back at 5am Monday. As it turns out, the only seats that were left three days in advance were Friday night getting in Saturday morning, and then leaving Sunday at 5pm. Prague for one night didn’t seem worth the €80 round trip bus fare.

Instead, Karl, Krista and I split a Bayern-Böhmen group pass and tacked on a €12 ticket each from Plzen to Prague. Total was €52 for Karl and me to get to Prague and back. Slightly more for Krista because she’s just visiting. Just visiting means she doesn’t have the Hessen ticket on her student ID that was included in the €182,95 student fees that she didn’t pay.

All in all, €52 isn’t a bad price to pay to get to Prague. The downside is group tickets mean no fast trains, only regional ones. Regional trains only go so far before they turn around and go right back to where they came from. So we were required to jump on train after train, generally for about an hour each. No longer than an hour twenty on any train, with one exception. The exception was 1 hour 50 minutes.

The train schedules on the way there worked out well, relatively speaking. Well means we averaged no more than 20 minutes waiting at any particular train station. Usually it was between eight and thirteen minutes. The exception was 53 minutes in Nürnberg, which outside of Frankfurt was the biggest train station we stopped at, so there was plenty to keep us occupied.

The return trip wasn’t so lucky. Monday was a Feiertag in Germany, so there weren’t the usual number of trains running. On four occasions, we waited just over an hour sitting at various train stations. Total time for the return trip: 16 hours.

Prague itself was nice. The lack of extraordinary superlative reflects the lack of inspiration Prague gave me to seek one. But it was still nice.

Saturday the three of us blazed through the city, seeing most of the ‘must-sees’ on our way to/from Prague castle. Sunday, we struggled to come up with a list of more things to see. The list was complete after the Jewish quarter (Cemetery plus a couple of synagogues) and Wenceslas Square. When we realized we walked through Wenceslas Square the day before while exploring after fighting through the hordes of tourists on Charles Bridge, we scratched that off the list and were left with just the Jewish quarter. So we explored some more.

We stopped at two souvenir/beer/liquor stores: one before heading to the Jewish quarter, one after climbing down Prague’s second hill; each in a separate part of town. The separation is why we were stunned when the guy sitting behind the register at the second store was the exact same guy who was trying to sell us a 2000 Crown ($80) bottle of Absinth at the first store. The “free beer and wine samples” sign painted on the second store window drew three college students in like the blue glow of a bug zapper does to flies, mosquitoes, and the occasional squirrel. The persistent salesman poured us each a sample shot of absinth instead. For Karl and me, the creepy Italian poured an absinth called Beetle. For Krista, he poured the other brand of absinth he carried, because she seemed a bit freaked out by the 5 inch beetle floating near the bottom of each bottle of absinth which wears the name.

We carried on, hunting down a Tex-Mex restaurant, Buffalo Bill, which Karl found on a list next to the list of recommended pubs, bars, and brewing houses. Krista and I shared a Chicken Quesadilla and a plate of Nachos Grande. Karl enjoyed his own plate of regular nachos 'n cheese and a chimichanga. We were all impressed and delighted by the authenticity of a Tex-Mex restaurant in an 'eastern' European city.

Karl and I were also delighted by the Budweiser listed on the menu. And the price. 48 Crown ($3) for half a liter. That’s roughly the price for the price of a 20 oz bottle of Budweiser in a bar back home. But that’s not what we were especially pleased with; this stuff wasn’t the crap from St. Louis. This was the original Budvar from the Czech Republic, which we had had a taste of in Hungary. With nothing left on our Prague list except night pictures, we talked for about an hour after eating while Karl and I enjoyed three half liters of the good Budweiser.

(Side note: the first night was spent at an Irish pub, where Urquell Pilsner was the bar’s beer of choice. Urquell coming from Plzen, from which the term Pilsner is derived).

(Second side note: while Urquell is good, Budvar wins the contest hands down).

Three half liters, a decent half-hour walk back to our room, a call home for mother’s day, letting Krista use my phone to call home for mother’s day because she couldn’t get her phone card to work from the Czech Republic, a nighttime Prague photo shoot, and six hours of sleep later, we started our 16 hour journey home.

Late Assignments

Oh Boy.

There was a time when I wrote a blog in the form of a letter.

The letter informed everyone that time was moving at lightning speed and that I would be unable to blog as often as I had hoped. Since then, time had slowed down a bit, allowing me to blog every once in a while to update everyone on my travels. On a few occasions, time slowed so much I was even able to blog "from my blackberry."

Times change.

Time is no longer at normal anymore.
It's not even at lightning speed.

Somehow, time jumped past lightning and went all the way to warp speed.

In the last several weeks, I've been to:

Norway (April 11-14)
Köln (April 19-20)
Budapest (April 25-28)
Berlin (May 1-4)
Heidelberg (May 5)

Regarding Norway and Köln, I've already posted the travel planning and/or the adventure of the hinfahrt. Much of Köln sits completed on my computer on MS Word, but it still awaits final touches. Budapest exists in pictures only at this point. Berlin, and Heidelberg are yet to exist.

When I have time to breathe, you'll hear more. Sadly, I might not be breathing in May.

I give a presentation Thursday on the Berlin Wall, which I still have to finish (and start on). Friday (or even Thursday night) thru Sunday night or Monday early morning looks like a trip to Prague. After Prague, I might come up for air, shortly, but then I hope to make a trip to Munich, and even possibly play tour guide in Rome, in the same weekend. ...I did spend a whole semester there, but I would love the opportunity to buy a cheap Ryanair ticket and go back. ..and impress everyone I know with my Roman insight. After whatever happens that weekend, I breathe shortly, probably preparing another presentation for a different class, because I then leave for Morocco for 5 days, with a presentation due the day after I get back.

...What idiot thought the end of May would be a perfect time to give a presentation? Who thought "I can get it out of the way fairly early, but still have plenty of time to get it done"? ...This idiot did.

Berlin Berlin

I think my pictures in the attached album are fairly self-explanatory, but I’ll divulge the details anyway.

By the time we rode the S-Bahn back into the heart of the city, it was roughly 9pm and pretty much dark. We set off in a group of 11 (one of the Polish girls was meeting a friend in Berlin) passed the Reichstag to the Brandenburger Tor. After snapping pictures, we accomplished a feat once impossible for thirty years. We walked through it. Harry and I were the only ones that noticed the significance initially. We were among the very few who probably cared, too.

The group walked down Unter den Linden looking for a place to eat. Somewhere, we turned off to find a reasonably priced place to eat. We succeeded. The place we found was called Nolle. It had good food at good prices in a good atmosphere, situated under a train bridge leading out of one of the many stations in Berlin. Every 10 minutes or so, the ceiling would roar as another train rolled over. We thought it was cool, but I bet the staff at the restaurant has other opinions.

After dinner, we snagged one of the last S-Bahns back to our hostel and headed to our respective rooms. In the morning, we checked out.

Yup. That’s right. We checked out. Our fearless trip leader waited to book a hostel until the night before, even though the number of people going with was set a week and a half prior. At one point (three days prior), I took it upon myself to look for rooms, which I found, but was told to wait. And I waited, because I wasn’t about to book a place for that many people, only to find out some have issues with it and I get stuck with the price of 11 beds for three nights. So I waited. And they did too. And eventually we were left without a place to sleep for Friday night. We had Thursday and Saturday. No Friday.

The hostel was kind enough to let us leave our bags there since we were coming back for Saturday, but we could only get to them until 10pm. After then, the doors were locked and nobody was manning the desk. We ate our included breakfast, left our bags and set out to finally see Berlin during the day. Same thing as the night before. Passed the Reichstag (which had a massive line, so we opted not to wait to go up to the glass dome) to the Brandenburg Gate. It was there that I found out our fearless leader was set on following a walking tour listed in her guide book. I persuaded her to make a minor detour to see the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe sitting 300 meters (literally one block) south of the gate. Reluctantly, fearless leader followed.

Then it was back to the path, down Unter den Linden again, where we stopped to watch a group of break dancers perform, and on to Checkpoint Charlie. It was there that Monika and Tautvydas split from the group, sick of how slow we were blazing our trail. I would have joined them, but Checkpoint Charlie and one of the last stretches of the wall still standing nearby were on my list to see, so I figured I’d follow at least for a bit.

We checked out the Checkpoint Charlie museum which detailed the construction of the wall and the escape plans, attempts, successes and failures. Then there was a refusal to detour a block and a half to see the wall. “We’re going this way.” Which was passed the Germanischer Dom and Französicher Dom. Crossed the square where the Nazis burnt books by or about Jews, Democrats, Communists, and …well, basically anything that wasn’t Fascist. A clear, covered opening on the ground looks down into a room of empty bookshelves there. Then we eventually passed the Berliner Dom as well, on our way to Alexander Platz and the Fernsehturm.

We bailed on the line at the Fernsehturm after waiting half an hour. It was moving too slowly and we had to get back to no-longer-our hostel to grab our bags. The others planned on staying out all night at a club. After a day of walking the city, I was too tired for that; no way in hell was I about to subject someone dealing with jetlag to that torture. So Krista and I went our own way, walked thru the Tiergarten at about midnight and found two beds in a six bed room with four other sleeping strangers already there.

We were up and out by 10 the next morning and back to the original hostel to see if by chance our double room was ready. We were lucky. It was. We showered and set out well rested and refreshed. I texted the others to see what they were up to and how their night had gone. I received a reply that read:

"Wir sind Tot müde. Wir gehen zurück zu schlafen. Wir treffen uns vielleicht um 9 Uhr Abends."

So much for seeing as much of the city as possible (not that I’m still bitter about the train pass ordeal, or anything)…

Krista and I were happy not to have nine people slowing us down anyway. Day two started with a stop at the second of the three main stretches of remaining wall, further north where the former French zone was. It was primarily a stop for me so I could gather a picture of the reconstructed “death strip” display that stands there (for my presentation on the Wall i was giving on the Thursday of the upcoming week). Then we headed to Potsdamer Platz and ate lunch at a restaurant in the Sony Center. From there, we walked passed the first stretch of remaining wall that we had skipped the day before near Checkpoint Charlie. On our way there, we spotted an old watch tower that was left standing at the end of a dead end street. We walked passed graffiti artists at work on our way to the Jewish museum.

The Jewish museum was powerful to begin with. The basement floor (the first place you enter) was filled with individual stories of exile, survival, and tragic endings. At the end of the “axis of exile” was a door to the outside. It led to a sort of courtyard with a slanted floor and equally slanted vertical concrete columns. It didn’t seem like anything special at first, but the combination of tilts is enough to throw off your senses and make you walk like a two year old learning all over again. It was supposed to symbolize the surviving refugees’ task of adjusting to a completely new country, culture, and environment, wherever they ended up.

The rest of the exhibits were fairly boring but very throughout, starting with the beginning of Judaism and walking through 3 more floors of their history. But the museum is as much about the building itself as it was about the exhibits. The architecture creates eerie “voids” in the building that give a lot to think about.

When we had enough of the exhibits, Krista and I headed over the river to the Eastside Gallery, the third remaining stretch of the Berlin Wall. The eastside gallery is full of artistic displays, often political (mostly referencing freedom, peace, and unity), but not necessarily so. On our way back, I snapped a picture of Gleis 17, which I’d passed each day at the S-Bahn station nearest our original hostel. We called it an early night at 10:30.

Sunday morning we checked out. We threw our backpacks in a locker at the Friedrichstrasse station. Not the main station because the main one doesn’t have lockers. Just a left luggage desk with a massive line of people waiting to drop off/pick up luggage. Friedrichstrasse didn’t have any available big lockers, so I towed around Krista’s suitcase that she still had because she came straight off the plane to Berlin.

We made our way back to the Checkpoint Charlie area so Krista could purchase a souvenir she’d thought about buying and couldn’t get out of her mind after she initially decided not to buy it on the first day. Then we spent our last hour and a half walking through the Tiergarten by day, eventually following the river back to the Hauptbahnhof to meet the others for our 2:15pm departure.

The return trip cost just €7 each because it was a beautiful weekend. That’s actually the reason. In Germany, there’s a Schönes Wochenende Ticket for up to 5 people for just €35 and it covers the whole country for a Saturday or Sunday. So no need to buy the individual state tickets like they did on Thursday.
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At one time, one of my relatives posed for a picture like this:

Planning Drama II

Krista is smart.

I told all of my friends they should come to Europe and visit while I have a free roof (and tour guide) to offer here in Germany. Krista was my only friend smart enough to take me up on my offer.

Krista came on a Thursday. Thursday is when I have most of my classes. But this particular Thursday was a Feiertag. So I told her to come on this day because I would be able to pick her up at the airport regardless of her arrival time. Her plane was scheduled to land just after 10am. I don't have to get up too early to get to Frankfurt International and we still have a full day. Perfect.

Not perfect. Thursday was a Feiertag. The group we planned on heading to Berlin with also wanted to use this day for travel. I had told one of the two girls planning the trip (nameless, because it doesn't matter) a week and a half prior that Krista arriving on that Thursday. I don't know what nameless was thinking, but for whatever reason didn't see the issue with leaving at 8am Thursday morning then. I didn't find out that was the plan until the Monday before the trip, at which point I immediately informed her that Krista's plane lands at 10am, so that's a problem. Apparently nameless failed to inform the other planner (who I rarely see) about the problem until Wednesday morning - the day before the trip. The day before was apparently too uncomfortable to delay a departure time by a whole 3 hours.

Fine. With the addition of Krista and me, the travel group was 10 people. Perfect. Two groups of 5 (the group tickets cover a max of 5 people each). I don't need to delay the whole group. Nor would I want to. I just need to find three kind, unselfish people willing to hang back an extra couple of hours. Heck, the unselfish ones would even get to sleep in. No luck.

The group tickets mean regional trains only. Regional trains from Gießen to Berlin is an 8 hour trip with three or four train changes. Everybody wanted to get as early of a start as possible so they'd be able to use part of Thursday still to see Berlin. I found only one person willing to hang back - but even that was only if I could find two more people to hang back to fill the ticket. Wanted to help, but didn't want to help at the price of paying extra to get to Berlin. ..I didn't want to pay extra either, which is why I wanted to find people to wait in the first place. But I understand.

People have a harder time saying no to your face. Over the internet, it's easy. The phone is almost the same. So I went next door and explained the situation to Monika, who reluctantly offered to wait back as well, again if I found a fifth person to fill the ticket. The price difference between 4 people and 5 people for the group ticket isn't a whole lot. Which is why the group didn't have an issue leaving Krista and me behind in the first place. But Monika didn't want to piss off the rest of the group, who would then only be 6 people. Six is too many for one group ticket, which means it would be three people splitting each. Annoy two people or annoy six. ...again, I understand.

What I don't understand is why I couldn't find one more selfless person to wait a whole three hours. I guess some people I thought were Freunden are eigentlich nur selbstsüchtig Bekannte. Three others who I know would have waited had been planning a trip to Prague (a trip that fell through last minute). So we were stuck. Just the two of us. Nameless explained that we could still "save money" by splitting a group ticket between the two of us. It would "only" be €45 (compared to the whopping €18 it would have been with 5 people per ticket, or the €22 they wound up paying as a result of a missing Krista and Adam).

Krista isn't studying in Giessen, or Germany at all. Just visiting. So she is also without the Hessen ticket which allows everyone else (me included) to ride regional trains in Hessen for free. So she would have to pay the roughly €20 ticket to get from Frankfurt to Kassel on top of the €45 for the tickets to Berlin, jacking her total up to €65 for an 8 hour ride on regional trains having come right off 10 hours on a plane from Chicago. She said she'd worked her tail off for the last several months saving specifically for her trip to Europe, so she didn't have a huge money concern. After knowing that, I made the executive decision for her to pay a whole €15 more for a ticket on the ICE train instead. The ICE's are the faster trains. From Frankfurt to Berlin, it is only 4 hours instead of 8. So after picking Krista up at the airport buying tickets and eating lunch (or whatever meal it really felt like for her), we arrived in Berlin just half an hour after the first group had. They were actually still in the train station, just sitting down for something to eat.

What happened in the next several hours is probably what bothered me the most. We watched the others eat. We were still full from lunch and Krista's left over snack food for the plane ride here. Then we took forever to make our way to the hostel we were staying at on the southwest edge of the city. Sure, the buses were on strike (I seem to have pretty good luck with European capital cities), but how hard is it to decide to hop on an S-Bahn to the station nearest our hostel and take a (couple) taxi(s) from there? Or take a taxi from right where we were (which is what we eventually wound up doing)?

After having spent just over two hours in the city doing nothing, the ambitious group decided to rest for a bit after settling in at the hostel. 20 minutes actually sounded good to me too. But that twenty minutes quickly turned into 40, and then another half hour was tacked on when the girls (including one high maintenance male) finally decided to get ready. Krista's not one of them. It took her less than 5 minutes.

We were finally heading out to see the city as the sun started to go down around 8pm. Which happens to be after when the second group of us would have arrived if there would have been enough generous people to wait behind. ...so much for making the most of Thursday... At least now it's crystal clear to me how nameless makes her decisions.

Bathing in Budapest

Early morning RyanAir. Woke up 3:00am. No, that’s a lie. Started getting ready at 3:00am. Never went to sleep. Was out the door with Eva at 3:30am. Walked to Eichendorfring to meet the others for the 4am/4:15am taxi to the train station. Train station by 4:35. Train at 5:20am to Frankfurt. Slept. Frankfurt by 6:15am. Breakfast. Boarded the bus to Frankfurt Hahn airport at 6:45am. Left at 7am. Slept. Hahn at 8:45am. Checked in. Flight at 10:20am. Slept. Arrived in Budapest around 12:30…

The 11 people split up. 7 were staying in one hostel, 4 in another. It was actually 6+1 in the one hostel, but Steve, the hostel owner, knew we were together and put a 7^th bed in the 6 bed room (both for us and for ease of the room key situation). After getting settled and receiving maps and city tips from Steve, we headed right across the street for lunch (a place Steve highly recommended). Traditional Hungarian style. I ordered Goulash, along with two others. It came served in a hanging tin pale with a live flame below, keeping it warm. The flame eventually burned out shortly after refilling my bowl from the pale.

The rest of Friday was picturesque. We walked passed St. Stephen’s Basilica where we met up with the remaining four. The tower closed just before we got there, so we vowed to return again the next day. From there, we headed to the Chain bridge. There I was called the paparazzi; after which I decided to earn my given title. [See the Budapest album if you haven’t already.] After crossing Chain Bridge, many of us headed up Buda hill. Four decided there were too many stairs to climb, and didn’t join us. They missed out on some beautiful views. The parliament was a popular photo subject while I kept myself quite busy shooting Fishermen’s Bastion.

After the day of sightseeing, the seven of us found dinner at an Indian restaurant. Dinner for seven came to 32,000 HuF (15% service included). After counting and recounting, we finally came to our total (the waitress refused to give separate checks). Three different people counted and arrived at 32,000. Someone insisted on handing the money to the waitress, for whatever reason. Probably thinking someone would swipe 32,000 from the table. Two people handed the waitress the money down by the register while the rest of us waited outside. The waitress counted the money and came up with only 28,500 and a slight of hand. That left the group 3,500 short, or 500 HuF short each. Which amounts to €2 a person. Sucks. But €2 isn’t the end of the world. The waitress earned herself a quick €14 with her equally quick hand.

Saturday’s highlights included St. Stephens Basilica inside and above. Then again up Buda Hill, this time over to Buda Castle, with a lunch stop at the foot of the castle, at the top of the hill, overlooking the Buda bank of the Danube and the entire Pest side. We watched a rain cloud come in. Eventually we dodged the 10 minute shower by hanging inside the entrance to one of the two museums in the castle. It was 15^th and 16^th century renaissance art, so waiting for the rain to pass what the only thing we did there. Buda castle around the outside was also worthy of a photo shoot. From there we played phone tag with the other four, who were headed to the citadel, atop Buda Hill’s neighboring slope. We must have passed them on our way up the hillside as they were coming down from the citadel. The refreshing ten-minute rain shower after hiking the hill in the lovely warm weather was almost as enjoyable as the view.

We finally met up several hours later for a group dinner at a guidebook-picked restaurant. It was supposed to be the most traditional Hungarian meal available, but it was not as cheap as the guidebook claimed, nor was it as traditional as the restaurant right across the street from our hostel. Again we were refused separate checks, but at least this time we were allowed to pay and get change back individually, which is almost the same thing, just without the paper that guarantees how much one actually owes. Watchful eyes (often multiple pairs) looked over the waiter’s shoulder to make sure we weren’t going to get scammed again. Three of us met the other four in a bar for drinks later that ..early morning (1am). We stayed out long enough to see the sun come up, after the bar herded us out at 4 o’clock.

Day Three started with the Great Synagogue, which was unexpectedly closed to tourists April 27 even though it was Sunday (not Saturday, though it was obviously closed then too). We walked around the side, where remnants of a cemetery lie protected inside the synagogue’s gate. Tombstones side, doubtfully atop the remains of the name they each read. All - every single one - disturbingly marked with the same year:

1945.

We attempted to get into Parliament, for which tickets were sold out for the day earlier than our 1pm time of arrival. Instead, we relaxed in the sun and green grass just outside Parliament for about half an hour, enjoying the beautiful spring weather. Afterwards, we received a vivid history lesson of WWII and Communist Hungary in the “House of Terror” Museum. We were shooed out of the museum at its 7pm closing time; though it was clear they were pushing us along ever since 5:30 when we got there.

Later, we met the remaining four in Heroes’ Square and the surrounding park on our mission to find Turkish baths. Steve said to ignore the (many) guidebook recommendations and head to the baths in the park instead of the other one the books recommended. I can’t compare to the book-recommended baths, but the four of us that enjoyed the baths certainly weren’t let down. The Turkish baths were an amazing way to wrap up a fantastic trip in Budapest.

Köln/Cologne: Stimulating all Senses

I haven’t had a bad trip yet. So close to home (two and a half hours), Köln /Cologne was the most awe-inspiring thus far. I will do my very best to put into words, every sight, sound, smell, taste and feeling. I don’t know how often I do something knowing in advance that I’m going to fail. Even aided by my pictures (which I’m well aware, without intending to come across as conceited, are absolutely incredible - can’t deny it; this time I can’t even be shy about it), this is one of those rare times I know in advance I’m going to fall short. Nevertheless, I’ll try:

Stepping out of the doors of the Hauptbahnhof, the Kölner Dom (n. dōm) sits approximately 100 meters away. That’s just under ten seconds if you happen to be an Olympic sprinter. I’m not one, and even if I were, I would probably be too busy gawking at the gargantuan structure to make in there in medal-winning fashion.

There it stands, with its two twin spires reaching for the sky as if it were being held up by John Wayne in the Wild West Germany. And yet in spite of its beauty (or perhaps due in part to it?), I couldn’t help but think the Dom would have been “the popular girl” in high school: beautiful, nose toward the sky, looking down on all who walk by.

I was looked down upon by the 100 meter finish line first thing Saturday afternoon. You know the cathedral is big when after your first two steps into the city, you realize your lens isn’t wide enough to capture the whole thing at once, from where you're standing. We left Nate and Lacy, who went to check into their hostel by their 1pm arrival time. After snapping our preliminary round of pictures, Karl, Greta, and I went to find lunch. The goal of getting away from the tourist prices surrounding the Dom failed fairly quickly once we happened to spot a Chicago steakhouse. I enjoyed a half rack of ribs sided by a delicious steak. I was disappointed in the non-existent barbeque sauce accompanying the ribs, but the salsa provided was tasty; an interesting combination, but tasty nonetheless.

After lunch, it was back to the Hauptbahnhof where we figured out the daily pass situation. Interestingly, two people splitting the price of the €9,40 (up to) 5-person day-pass is cheaper than buying the single-person €6,70 day-pass. So between the three of us, it wasn’t a bad deal, even though we were never carded in the two days we were there.

...That said, we only bought one day pass…

After making it to our hotel (note the lack of ‘s’ before the ‘t’), we collapsed and rested for a good half-hour. Even though we’d been sitting on public transportation or in a booth with the local Kölsch sitting in front of us for the better part of the day, nobody had the motivation to get up and go right away. And after all that sitting, my feet were surprisingly tired.

We were well aware that resting meant we weren’t going to see the German-Roman museum that closed at 5pm, and we were likely going to miss the Chocolate museum that closed at 6p as well. So after resting, we headed back out, back to the Dom again. We checked out as much of the inside as possible, and stayed until the priests kicked the tourists out. Outside in the plaza, we heard the bells sound signaling the call to 6:30 mass. This would be the first time I wished I had more than just a camera to capture the moment. Even just a sound/voice recorder would have been sufficient.

We randomly spotted Nate and Lucy outside the Dom. They’d just come from climbing the church tower, to which entrance closed minutes before we showed up. Dinner was together at an authentic Italian restaurant run by real Italian-speaking Italians. Somehow it reminded me of my many journeys in Italy (figure that one out).

Dinner was followed by gelato (as if my first taste of Italy wasn’t enough). On our way back through the streets of inner-Köln – well, first we passed by another Bachelor party and two Bachelorette parties, one of which happens to make for a not-very-appropriate-to-share story. In addition to the soon-to-be-wed street vendors, we encountered a couple that already had a crowd. It was just after 8 or 9 – I can’t remember, it was right after almost all of the stores closed, which even though it was a Saturday night, likely means 8pm in Germany. The vagabond couple was sitting in the entry way to an H&M, jamming away on their guitars. They were good (hence the crowd) and had likely scouted out their spot in advance or had been there before, as the acoustics were also better than street quality. For those keeping score at home, this is the second time I wished for more than just my camera. Once again, a sound recorder would have sufficed, but this time video would have been terrific too.

Back at the hotel after once again parting ways with Nate and Lucy we watched FC Bayern München pull out a 2-1 extra time win over a BVB Dortmund team they easily should have beat based on reputation but definitely should have lost to based on the quality of play we witnessed after the 90^th minute. 2 minutes into injury time (so 90 +2), Dortmund tied the game at 1-1. Even though Dortmund was attacking throughout much of the extra time, Bayern-München pulled ahead on a foolish re-direct that was enough to just squeak past a keeper who’d been leaning the other way. From there, it was downhill for Dortmund, who soon went a man down after the Dortmund’s 8^th yellow card of the match resulted in a yellow-red for the man who tried to do too much.

Breakfast in the morning wasn’t bad – and it was included. Our first stop of the day was the Dom, yet again. The goal was to climb the tower we hadn’t been allowed to ascend the day before. Instead, we read a sign that said the tower wouldn’t be open until quarter after twelve. “So why not check out the inside again?” We walked in on mass which already had a sufficient number of on-lookers. It also happened to be one of the most mystical, spiritually moving events I’ve ever witnessed. Not even video would have been able to capture this one. There was a distinct smell as soon as we walked in. But it was so subtle at first that I didn’t even realize I’d been smelling it until ten minutes later. It was incense. Incense was being burned and fanned as if they were sending smoke signals to God. A small but complete symphony and a signing mixed choir supplemented the smells. I felt like I had been transported six hundred years back in time. Or at the very least, to Hollywood. The whole experience seemed unreal.

When the mass was heavy enough, someone thought it would be fun to climb more than six hundred steps. Our workout was rewarded. After checking out the tower, mass was over. The lingering incense smoke combined with the perfect time of day to let the sun on through was the perfect storm for an assault of rainbows and a seemingly non-stop photoshoot.

Once we mustered up the strength to drag ourselves away from the awesome sight, we headed over to the Römisches-Germanisches Museum to check out what the Roman Empire left in Köln. The museum is incriminating evidence that the German government is guilty of mass grave robberies. All of the jewelry in the museum came from graves. All of the headstones did too, obviously. As well as many of the daily items like hair combs, toys, figurines, etc. Relatively speaking though, that’s far from the worst thing the German government has ever done…

On the bright side, one of the best inventions/improvements to come from Germany (or at the very least, the German speaking region), is the solid, creamy chocolate bar. What’s better than a chocolate bar? …a chocolate museum! €3 bought an entrance ticket and a free sample (the smartest thing the museum could possibly do. More on that later).

The first floor was the history of chocolate (way to go Imperialism!), followed by the production of chocolate on the second floor, much of which was explained by demonstration – by machine mostly, with the exception of the grandma caged like a zoo animal behind Plexiglas walls, sitting on a stool, bagging the wrapped mini chocolate bars as they come off the mini-conveyer belt. Around grandma’s glass walls stood a chocolate fountain where another elderly woman smiles at you (probably because she’s not caged) and hands you another free sample: an airy cookie dipped in the liquid chocolate. After the free samples we got to witness the making of chocolate truffles. At the end of the truffle conveyer belt was a service counter at which one could purchase one of these fresh, delicious, chocolate truffles for €0.50. …After that free sample at the gate, and the taste-test of liquid chocolate, it’s impossible to resist a fresh truffle for 50 cents. After which, it is impossible to resist the chocolate gift shop at the end of the museum. The only way one can even try to resist it is if you don’t even enter to begin with. …After 3 chocolate samples, who can really do that?? Three chocolate bars later, I proved I couldn't.

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Random Facts: Lindt was Swiss. So I’m not sure why his chocolate museum is in Köln. Lindt was the genius who invented whatever process it is that makes chocolate so smooth and creamy. Prior, chocolate was too brittle and thus was enjoyed almost entirely in the liquid form, not the solid bar.

Planning Drama

Thursday on our way to the Mensa between history classes, I asked one of the girls what the plans for the weekend were. Everyone wanted to get out of Hessen, because everyone, well, except me, had stayed in Hessen the weekend prior as well. The answer I received was “we’re probably going to go to Köln.”

Flashback

Two and a half weeks ago, I attended the (university) President’s greeting of the exchange students. This greeting was more of an orientation to the different groups/clubs on campus than a “meet the president” event, but the president did say a few words:

Welcome. I’m happy you’re all here and that you took advantage of the opportunity to study in Gießen. We, here at the Justus Liebig University, believe an integral component of any university is the international student body. And we, here, take great pride in the international reputation we have built and in the number of international students who decide to study here each semester.

It’s true. There are a lot of internationals here. The university has approximately 25,000 students. Of that, 1,600 are international or exchange students.

It’s good to have you here. Have a great semester. And enjoy the
Apfelwein!

After the ceremony and time to chat and get to know people, most of whom we already knew because half the people there had attended the March language course, we were invited by one of the student groups, who (independent of the International Office) plan activities for exchange students, to join them at a nearby pub for Apfelwein tasting. Come. At least for a little bit. The first Apfelwein is free.

I was sitting at a table in the relatively tiny bar with Alexandros from Greece and one of the German students who organized the small outing, whose name I can’t remember, even though I ran into her two days later. It’s good that it was still pretty early in the evening, because the 30-35 people who actually made their way from the greeting ceremony to the pub, plus the 3 people who were already there, filled the entire bar.

We had the standard get to know you conversation with the German student. I am American. Word must have spread. Because that’s the only possible explanation for what happened next.

Alexandros and I were headed out. I forget why, but I think I had stuff I needed to get done. This was still at a time when I needed to register in 137 difference places. Granted it was towards the end of that phase, but still stuff to get done nonetheless. Alexandros was already at the door. I was 10 steps behind him, because I’d turned around to put my jacket on. In my path steps a cute, short, German girl:

(in German)

Girl in my way: “Are you American?”

I think I blend in fairly well to the European style. Especially in Germany, where my hair- and skin-color aren’t flashing neon signs screaming Foreigner like was often the case in Italy.

Confused: “Was it really that easy to see?”

Not really answering my question: “No, no. Do you have a partner?”
?! That took me by surprise. I know Germans have a tendency to be direct at times, but wow. That couldn’t possibly mean what I thought she meant.

Off guard, and holding a conversation like an improv game where the whole conversation must be entirely in questions: “What do you mean?”
Still playing the improv game: “Do you want to learn German?”

In retrospect, that still could have been a less direct and very cheesy pick-up line. But I was finally understanding where this was going.
Withholding an intense desire to say, “that’s the whole point of me being here”: “Ja, natürlich.”

There’s a tandem program I had heard about that pairs people up with others who want to learn your language. Say you’re French and want to learn or improve your Spanish. The program will find a native Spanish speaker who wants to learn French. After that point, the program does nothing. The pair is on its own. In the five minutes that I kept Alexandros waiting, I basically bypassed the tandem program, exchanged names, numbers, and walked through the standard get-to-know-you questions.

Fast-forward

Thursday evening, I got a call from Karl while I was sitting in an apartment filled with Germans. Katharina had invited me to her place, because she was having a small get-together. This entailed having ein Bierchen (yes, just one) and watching/laughing at Germany’s Next Top Model, hosted by Heidi Klum, identical to America’s Next Top Model with Tyra Banks, except that in the German version, someone is crying every 10 minutes, instead of once an episode. …Not that I’m an expert on these shows.

Karl was calling me regarding our plans for the weekend. We were either going to go to Köln or Düsseldorf for the weekend. And it was going to cost about €65-70 with train ticket and hostel. Not really wanting to spend €65-70 just go there and sleep for a night (and pay even more for whatever we wind up doing there), I told Karl to hold off booking anything for me until they knew exactly where they were going, and I’d think about it.

It is extremely unfair but very helpful that in a room full of foreigners, everyone can understand the private conversation I was having in my native language.

Immediately after I hung up, the Germans were clamoring for a turn to talk. The consensus among the Germans was that Köln is way better than Düsseldorf. It’s far prettier, and it rivals Berlin for the best city in German in which to go out at night. There’s just as many good clubs and bars as Berlin, but Berliners (so the stereotype among Germans is) can be snobbier (but it doesn’t mean they will be). Whereas in Köln, the people are very friendly, very open, and very helpful. Also, there’s no way it should cost €65 for just a train ticket and hostel. A hostel in Köln should be no more than €20 (which was on target) and each Bundesstaat (federal state) has a day pass between €30-35 that covers five people. Meaning €6-7 each. Given that we’re staying overnight, that means just €12-14 roundtrip. I called Karl back when I left, told him the good news, and “I’m in.”

Then he told me about the drama. I don’t know what happened exactly, because I only got his side of the story, but either there was a complete overreaction, a misunderstanding, or a combination of both. But in the end, it meant Ms. “We’re probably going to Köln,” who was at the center of the mess, had no interest in going to Köln anymore, and was set on Düsseldorf. Whatever.

Following the advice of my new Bekannte, and being a grown-up, …at least enough to be able to make my own decisions and not feel obliged to travel like a herd animal with other exchange students around Europe, I decided I was going to Köln regardless of what the others decide. Karl and his sister Greta, both from Wisconsin schools as well, listened to the advice I passed along from the Germans and settled on Köln too. Coincidentally, Nate had already planned a trip to Köln with his girlfriend, who is studying 20 minutes away in Marburg. So there we had it. 5 people for the train pass. Nate and his girlfriend can still do their own thing, and we can all get there and back for cheap. Everyone else can travel in their herd for all I care. …and many did.

Of the 15 people …too many to travel together in my opinion… who were initially going to go to Köln, three (or four, depending on whether not Nate was counted in that initial 15), actually went. Eight went to Düsseldorf, and three or four dropped out when they found out the Düsseldorf clan had no plans to stay overnight in a hostel, but rather see the city in the afternoon, stay in a club (or museum open til 2am as it wound up being) and then catch the first train back in the morning. I don’t care how much fun they claim they had in that museum (or how beautiful they say their 20 minute stay outside the Kölner Dom at 6am on the return trip was), I wouldn’t have given up the trip to Köln for anything. Almost ironic, considering I had zero preference when I very first asked about the plans for the weekend.

The only downside was due to the last minute booking drama, we missed out on the chance for a €20 per person hostel. Instead we had to settle for a €30 per person "budget" hotel (It was actually quite nice).

In the Middle of NO(r)W(ay)HERE

As the plane approached Sandefjord (aka not Oslo), I stumbled upon the realization that I would be the first member of my immediate family to set foot in the country most of our heritage is derived from. I beat them all.

Just before landing, I spotted what must have been a Coca-Cola distribution site. I saw a parking lot where a dozen semis sat with the red and white Coca-Cola logo on their roofs. America beat me. Not that it was a surprise. I doubt there’s a single country out of the 200 in the world that America hasn’t already beaten me to.

Tim met me at the station in Ringebu after my day-long travels. His pad wasn’t the first stop. A pub was. I enjoyed an Aass or two; first one courtesy of Tim. On our way our, I also met a girl who would be a key contact during my stay.

Tim whipped up an American breakfast Saturday morning. French toast, Bacon, Orange Juice and Coffee. It was so beautiful it could have brought tears to my eyes. Maybe it did. But writing a month later, I really can’t remember. I do however recall exactly how tasty it was.

Tim is well connected on the mountain, and the connections are generous. Grateful for all he’s been given during his time at Kvitfjell, and in Norway in general, Tim felt it necessary to spread the generosity further. Working on the mountain, he gets 20-50% off just about everything. Sounds good, but still remains expensive. Even better is when he is lucky enough to earn his 100% off discount.

Tim hooked me up with most of the equipment I needed. Ski pants were borrowed from his extremely giving boss Lars. Goggles came from his roommates (plural. Different pair each day). The gloves I wore were Tim’s own. Using his discount, my two-day ski and boot rental was 50% off. After I picked up my skis and boots, Tim went over to the register to pay. Generosity was working behind the register, and Tim’s 50% discount became 100%. Tim continued the theme, buying my first day’s lift ticket for me. I got day two’s lift ticket at the same 20% discount Tim paid for day one.

Fresh snow greeted me my first morning on Kvitfjell. April 12. …and people in Wisconsin were complaining. I wasn’t. The fresh snow was a blessing. For all except Snow White anyway. In the week or two prior to my arrival, it was slowly starting to turn into spring. This meant melting snow which washed much of the spread gravel off the road up the mountain. Combining that with the fresh white stuff meant Snow White could only make it halfway up the mountain, studded winter tires and all. We were left with a detour-by-foot up the top half of the mountain. The hike was breathtaking, in more ways than one.

Tim and I stopped for lunch half-way down the hill after a few hours. Breakfast had only been a few hours earlier, so I wasn’t hungry yet, but he needed to eat before he went to work. Tim’s lunch came at half price, thanks to the contact I was introduced to at the pub. My hot chocolate and whatever Tim was drank came without a price tag at all. We fit in a couple more runs before Tim had to go to work. It gave me time to stop embarrassing myself on the mountain. I chilled in Koia for a bit. I devoured a house hotdog/sausage and hot chocolate free thanks to the man with the snow pants. I had a second, again for free, before I hit the slopes for a few more runs before they closed for the day. When I came back, Koia was crowded. I decided on yet another hotdog. Tim suggested one wrapped in “a sort of flat potato pancake” instead of a bun. Once I had it in my hands, I realized what it was. …"Flat potato pancake"?? C’mon Tim, I’m Norwegian too. I know what Lefse is. I took my hotdog and a post-skiing beer onto the patio after finally paying for something. Although I think I only paid the price of the beer. But I wasn’t going to argue.

Saturday night at dinner, I found out why Norway is obsessed with Grandiosa. I also discovered the entertainment value of most Norwegian commercials.

Skiing on day two included company. We found Vivi and Ditte, two of Tim’s housemates, on the mountain. We stopped for lunch again at the same place halfway down. Right before, I took the worst spill of my two days on the mountain. Somehow I managed to wind up turned around minus one ski. Tim was nearly to the restaurant so he didn’t get to witness it. Vivi and Ditte had to help me get my ski back on. I’d crashed on the steepest stretch of that run, which made stepping back into my ski quite a task, hence the need for help.

At lunch, I got Tim’s discount even though he wasn’t even at the counter when I ordered and paid. Half price food and another free drink thanks to the girl from the pub.

Post-lunch included time for a few photoshoots.

That evening I met even more of Tim’s friends, learned what an Irish Christmas is, and wondered what the Irish have to do with ski poles. We enjoyed ourselves, shot embarrassing footage of each other, and days later watched how selective Hollywood film editors can be ;-). At 5:40am, Ditte drove the scenic route to Ringebu. I was at the station just after 6:00 to catch my 6:30am train back to Sandefjord. I slept on the train.

I met Tina for the first time during my 4 hour stay (thanks to the train/flight schedules) at Sandefjord Torp. Tina’s a distant relative. Distant enough that I occasionally have to draw myself a map to figure how exactly how we’re related. But we’re related nonetheless. And she was kind enough to keep my company during my time in Torp.

I was back in Gießen around 9:40pm. And thanks to late-night bus schedules, I was finally back in my room at 10:30, after having walked half way across the city, before picking up the second bus I would have been on anyway. …After 16 hours of sitting on my backside, I didn’t feel like waiting for the bus.