It's raining

So it's been pouring the last two days or so, making venturing out to explore kind of strenuous. Yesterday I came back soaking wet having to change clothes as I stupidly didn't have an umbrella. I also nearly lost my wallet, which was a harrowing experience! I ate dinner at a falafel place, paid, went to use the bathroom, and left. After going one stop on the train, I thought it would be a good idea to check for my wallet before I got home. Lo and behold, it was not there! I raced out of the doors of the subway, found the next train back, and practically sprinted through sheets of rain back to the falafel place. I was only gone for about 15 minutes or so, and fortunately I know my way around Berlin well enough that I knew exactly where the place was. I walked in, checked the bathroom, and sure enough, my wallet was sitting exactly where my jacket had been, with everything still in it. I feel really lucky for that. I have never really lost my wallet, only misplaced it for a few panicked hours or minutes every so often. Loosing my money and passport in a foreign country is not something I want to experience, especially since I am leaving for home in 2 days.



That's another beast I rode around in the rain yesterday - Berlin is a great city to bike in, and step-through frames are very popular. I've seen very few sleek italian racing machines such as the ones that are oh-so popular in SF.

Berlin Wall

Gazing at the kilometer-long still standing section of the Berlin Wall, I am overwhelmed. The graffiti splashed and collaged on this atrocious structure stands as a portal into people's hopes, dreams, stupidity, and comic relief. I had a hard time keeping it together - so many colors and words represent so many people's frustration, pain, sadness, joy, heartbreak, relief.

I take my time strolling past this monument. At the beginning I see a young couple attempting to chip a piece out of the wall to take home as a souvenir. It's unfortunate that much of the phrases now scrawled on the surface are mostly tourist sentiments (so and so was here European vacation 2006, etc). Much of the original art has been spray painted over many times. Still, much remains in the way of references to peace and hope.

Bike rides and the Pergamon museum

I've been doing a lot of walking, sightseeing, and eating of Falafels in Berlin. It's hard to get lost here as there is a subway or tram within 10 minutes or less of anywhere in the center of the city. Plus, there is food everywhere; like I said, I've been eating a lot of REALLY GOOD falafels as they are vegetarian and cheap! A falafel sandwich costs between 2 and 3 Euros, or about $3-4. Food is really cheap and very good quality here, even fast food.

Monday I took a bike tour which was a lot of fun, and our guide was pretty knowledgeable about Berlin history. We rode around for about 4 hours, stopping at the Reichstag, the Holocaust Memorial, Museum Island, and of course checkpoint charlie. She regaled us with tales of escape over, under, and through the wall from East to West Berlin, as well as describing the reconstruction effort after each war. The weather was beautiful and warm, and I managed to get a little sunburned (but not badly).




I'm now staying at the home of Fabienne and Khorben, who've been in Berlin for 2 years. Fabienne is French-American from California and has been out of the states for 4 years (2 in Paris, 2 in Berlin); Khorben is also French. They are great company and know the city well, in addition to knowing a lot about computer hardware/software hacking and sock knitting!

Tuesday it rained, so I headed off to the museums. I first toured the DDR museum, which is an interactive walk through life in East Berlin during the communist era. The curators did a good job of showing typical life of an average East Berliner from birth to middle age. I next visited the Pergamon museum, which has a ton of classical Roman, greek, and islamic sculputures and structures. It was absolutely amazing, with huge reconstructions / restorations of buildings inside the museum.



Berlin is really a beautiful city, with rich history. It's been in near constant turmoil in the 1900's, but is now bustling with hipsters, travelers, food and culture from all over the world. In essence, a big melting pot.

Mauer Park Flea Market

Yesterday I stumbled upon an awesome flea market in Mauerpark, within walking distance to Lette'm Sleep, the hostel I've spent a couple of nights in. I was starving, and of course there was food - but mainly bratwurst and bread. Fortunately, I found some pretty good fries with ketchup and mayo.



After silencing my rumbling belly, I had a walk around. It was unfortunate that I was unable to find an ATM before getting there, as there were a lot of things I wanted to buy. It's comparable to several flea markets around the bay, but better as everything is a little different. I'd say the best values are for housewares there (one girl was walking around with the most awesome hanging lamp I've ever seen), but that kind of stuff is just to big to really bring home to the US. As with most flea markets, the vendors to the front have the most expensive things, while those in the back are a little cheaper.

It was great to walk around and take in the sights and sounds of a local event. There was music and art everywhere! The first group I saw was this jazz/r&b group that played on top of a Mercedes-Benz RV. They were pretty good, and people really got into it.




I sat and watched these guys for a while, the bass player/drummer was pretty good. Kind of psychadelic hippie jamming but it was still nice to listen to. When the saxaphone player passed his hat around, I dropped a Euro in.

I wandered around for a bit and finally settled in on the hillside to peoplewatch and peruse my German phrasebook. I still can't speak German, but I'm not expecting to really learn much. Probably the best part of the afternoon, besides sitting in the sun and relaxing, was seeing a group of people spread out on the wall behind the park to paint murals and Graffiti.



This flea market happens every weekend in Mauerpark, so I'll definitely be back next weekend to check it out again before I leave.

Berlin!

It's a wonderful city. I arrived on Friday night, a little tired from waking up at 5:30am (ugh). I flew into Frankfurt and then took an ICE train (high speed long distance train) to Berlin. The train ride was very pleasant. It's quiet, you can get pretty good food, and look out the window at the rolling green hillside. I was very surprised to see that it reminded me of California! Maybe that's just my homesickness though. But really, it reminded me of taking long drives in Northern California to my cousins' place in the woods. All of the houses, however, are a lot different. Europe has a typical farm house or structure - cream or bright white with red rooftops.

The S- and U-bahns (main subway and metro trains) are amazing here. Most of the day they run every 3 minutes, and at night and sundays every 10. Normally, I feel I have no sense of direction, but in Berlin, I have found it very easy to get around by train or by walking. In many respects I feel like I am in San Francisco, but it's bigger and with much better public transportation. There are all sorts of colorful people here, many of them friendly, and every building is different.

Last night I met with a knitting group that meets regularly at a cafe in Berlin. It was pretty nice to go and meet, even if I don't speak German. A few of the people there spoke english, however, so I was at least able to chat with them and get some names of a couple yarn shops. We all shared our knitting projects (I showed off my gloves and hat that I'd made a while ago) and gave feedback - one woman called my fuzzy turquoise gloves crazy! But I think this was a compliment. I was invited by Kim, who is a friend of Fabienne, who I'm going to stay with for the rest of my time here. Fabienne is a friend of my friend Matt, who met here at CCC in Berlin around August. Fun stuff - it's great to make foreign connections.

I've met quite a few cool people on this trip, given out my e-mail a few times, gotten a few more - I hope I can at least remember to keep contact when I get back, as at times I'm so bad at it. I think I will need to make better effort in the future.

Au Revoir, Paris

So today I left Paris bright and early at 6am. I was actually happy to leave. I, unfortunately, was not terribly impressed by this place, except maybe by the Cemetier Montmartre. Cemetaries are a bit amazing to me - the aged, rotting tombstones and crypts, strewn with dried flowers and leaves left by mourners long ago. Cemetier Montmartre is a huge, sprawling lot, with lots of family crypts and families of cats. I've dubbed them "les Chats de Mort" (the cats of death), even though they don't seem remotely deadly to me.

I wandered around for about an hour and a half, enjoying the peace and quiet, so to speak. I was in photographic bliss! I love picturing rust, and the delicate stains of dirt, smoke, and pollution.

Bonjour, Comment ca va?

Paris is weird and expensive. I've been here since Saturday night. Sunday and a portion of Monday were spent mostly sleeping as I've caught a bad cold (or, en francais). I've been staying at the Montclair hostel on the 6th floor. Other than the strenuous climb up 6 flights of steep, winding stairs, the hostel is pretty nice. It's really clean, fairly comfortable, and the staff is really nice. Our room has its own bathroom that only three people share - a lot better than the previous. It's also got a kitchen and a lobby - probably another reason I've been here so much.

On Monday night, I was a bit relieved to hear another American voice in the kitchen. I introduced myself to Shavonne, a bartender from Seattle, and two Hungarian youths (I forget their names!) and was promptly handed a beer. We chatted for a bit and quickly became friends, eventually wandering out to a bar nearby to talk loudly about English language, rugby, football, and other miscellany shared over several bottles of wine. We eventually made our way back to the hostel to hang out in the Hungarian's room, and were interrupted several times by the staff on duty to keep the noise down. I guess laughter carries in the corridors.





Shavonne, me, and Shavonne's roommate, an Australian, met the next day (Tuesday) to head to the Louvre. They were hungover, and the Louvre was closed, so we didn't get very far. All city museums in Paris are closed on Tuesdays. It was, however, a beautiful day. Shavonne took off shortly after we arrived to get a train ticket to Amsterdam, where she was headed the next day. The Australian (I'm so terrible with names) and I wandered around for a bit, and I eventually found an english language bookstore where I bought some short stories by Roald Dahl, some pens, and a pretty good map of Paris. I've been dying for something to read since I got here. Since we were both exhausted, we headed back to the hostel to nap.

My days in Paris have been spent getting up late, wandering for a few hours, migrating back to the hostel in the afternoon, napping, and wandering again in the evening. I finally got a chance to do a little clothes shopping today, and found some excellent (and expensive) new duds. I've been really frugal so far, so I think I can splurge a little bit. Now that I'm starting to feel better (thanks to french over the counter cold remedies), I'm going to try to spend my last day at the cemetary in Montmartre and on a bike tour in the afternoon.

The coolest glasses ever...

Are these! Too bad the shop was closed, or else I would have had a picture of them on my face. I'm really thinking I should switch to contacts so I can get a ton of cheap frames and deck them out so I can have weird glasses all the time and not have to spend a fortune!

Amsterdam is full of all kinds

Just days after 9/11anniversary, we are in amsterdam. a city with tolerance for everything except intolerance. on our second night, we are walking back towards our hostel, near centraal station. there are so many people in the street, so many languages, the background is chaotic and exciting. two voices are heard singing an unfamiliar tune and lyric. Hola! shouts a man as he passes us. Hola! Harvey shouts back. we intercept them as they slow down to meet us, two tan skinned men, one graying, one more baby faced. We exchange pleasantries and they ask us where we're from. San francisco, my collegue replies. "Ah, san francisco"! Where are you from? Spain? no, Italy? no. Israel! he replies. no, you don't have the right accent. "Iraq" is the final answer. Only for a moment, my brain states "woah". But in another moment, we see that they are friendly indeed. They introduce themselves (eventually) as Sale (pronounced sal-uh) and Muhammed. We ask them what they were singing; the reply was, "an old arabic tune, to which we've altered the words." I don't remember what the song used to be about, but the new words were something to the gist of "ali, why have you lied to us?"

Sale has been in Amsterdam for 9 years, working as a playwright and actor. He speaks fluent Dutch and Arabic, and only some english. Sale is extremely excited to learn that Harvey is also an actor, clown, and musician. Our new acquaintances convince her to sing a song. She chooses "a day in the life of a fool" and belts out a beautiful melody. I have heard Harvey sing many many times before, and again sat back to listen.

Muhammed has been living in the UK since he fled Iraq in 1996. He's a psychiatrist in Sheffield. He started off his introductions to us with the fact that a close friend had been killed in an explosion in Baghdad only a few months before. He, nearly laughing and close to tears, seemed to be at the edge of shock and grief. I tell him that I can only imagine such a tragedy.

Muhammed and Sale talk us into heading to a cafe (Dutch version of a bar) with them. As we walked, we discussed poetry - Muhammed is going through his grieving process by writing a poem together with a dear friend still in Baghdad. When we arrive and get drinks, he launches into another story about his return to Baghdad a year prior. Without telling his family or friends (except one), Muhammed books a flight for 2 weeks to Baghdad. He said he felt a sudden urge to go, and he had a pending sense of meeting what he thought was to be his own death. His family gets word of his arrival, and there is a tearful reunion at the airport. He then told of how he had not seen any of his family in ten years, and could not recognize his own brother.

His reunion with his family was extremely happy. About a week after his arrival, he meets up with an old friend who has since become a successful reporter in Baghdad. They make plans to meet the next day. Sale described how he phoned his friend many times the next day, and was finally contacted by another friend who told Muhammed that he was in a coma at the hospital. Muhammed only found out after he arrived at the hospital that the sucessful reporter was killed from a bomb explosion earlier that day.
I'm not too clear on what he mentioned next, but he described missing another explosion by 10 minutes as his brother was driving him to the airport. When he arrived, he found that all flights were canceled, but they did not recommend he travel home, as the road to the airport was unsafe and nicknamed the "way of death". Muhammed spent two nights in the airport and was finally able to return to Sheffield.

After this sad tale, the bar closes, and we're invited back to Sale's apartment (affectionately called Little Baghdad) to view a dvd of excerpts from a performance titled "Waar is Daar?" (Where is There?) It's a solo piece of words and dance, entirely in Dutch. Since Sale doesn't speak enough english to translate, he translates it from dutch to arabic, and Muhammed translates from Arabic to English for us. Basically, the play asks the questions, where have I come from, where am I going, and why am I tortured in both places? It's an interesting piece that incorporates bits of Iraqi and Dutch words and culture. We drink more beer while listening to traditional Iraqi music played on an ooud (sp?) which is a stringed instrument. Arabic music, like Indian music, does not operate on the western 12-tone scale. The result is that music is less concentrated on the note and more on the tone of the instrument. Meter is different too, being more relaxed and pulsing rather then metronomic.

Eventually, they ask us to stay with them. We decline, preferring the hostel. Fortunately they hail a cab for us so we can get home - it being very late and dark, we have no idea what part of town we're in. What shocks me is despite the fact that our home countries are still at war, they did not blame us or bash America for any wrongdoing. Had we each met in one of our parent countries, things would have been radically different.

A few pics of Amsterdam

More can be found on my flickr page...

Goedenavond, Amsterdam

After 3 planes and about 16 hours of travel, I arrived in Amsterdam exhausted with luggage and my former roommate Harvey in tow. The most stressful part of getting here was locating her in the Frankfurt Airport. We each paged the other a few times and finally met at one of the information desks about 50 minutes before our flight was scheduled to take off. Close call, but mid-day on a Tuesday has the place pretty empty. It only took us about 15 minutes to get from check in to gate, which is remarkable in my opinion.

The previous two flights (UA SFO-Heathrow and Lufthansa Heathrow-FRA) were pretty uneventful, although United was cramped, crowded, and long. I was able to nap a bit on all three flights, but not enough to really be rested. When we finally arrived at our hostel (The White Tulip in the Red Light district) I passed right out for about 5 hours. Harvey, already acclimated to the time change after spending the last month and a half in the Czech republic, decided to check out the neighborhood. She returned at 10:30, and dragged me out for a beer. Heineken and Grolsch the standard here, and are very good especially on tap. We sat outside for a bit and chatted with some Welsh travelers who had also arrived that day, and had only decided to come to Amsterdam a day or two before. After our beer, we headed back to the hostel - I was still tired, although in better shape than earlier.





What was kind of shocking at first was that this has been a lot easier than I anticipated. I was freaking out a bit the evening before my departure, but once I got on my plane at SFO, I felt pretty much ok. Amsterdam seems to be a good place to start out with for traveling overseas, as english is a second language to nearly every person to set foot in this country. The Dutch grow up with English spoken on television, and are pretty much automatically bilingual.