Travel to Nürnburg

One thing about my travels is that they are so flexible. I have an EU Rail SelectPass, which gives me ten days of travel, as much as I want within each of those ten nonconsecutive days, over a two month period. Terribly handy. As a result of this, I save money and do not need to make my plans horribly far in advance. And, if I miss a train or decide to take an earlier one, or anything else, I can do so and rather easily at that.

This has come in handy once or twice so far when I missed a connection due to a late arrival, and would again prove infinitely useful again this day, my day of travel from Brugge to Nürnburg. We were scheduled to make our way from Brugge (with a few stops, of course) to Frankfurt's airport and train station, or perhaps a train station that's merely really close to the airport. Either way, it was named Frankfurt Flughafen, which means airport, and it was a train station. I'll leave the delicate semantics of it to another time.

Apparently the day I left Brugge was a bad day for Europe. An enormous storm had been ravaging the continent and ended up killing more than a few people. Power outages, debris strewn about, and so on were the general order of the day. I said apparently because the train on which I was travelling didn't see so much as a drop of rain. Grey (gray? I always forget which is the American spelling, and prefer the letter e) skies, to be certain, but no horrible storm from our point of view. Yet the effects of the storm's earlier passing were indeed felt when our train came to a stop perhaps five kilometers from the station. Walking distance, really, even with one's luggage.

This stop was no mere small delay, as the conductor got on the PA and announced to us in no uncertain terms that they were uncertain as to when we'd be going again. It seems that a tree had managed to get onto the tracks. This dismayed everyone but me, as while I did have a travel plan, I was not unduly worried about arriving at my destination at any particular time. As seems to be the case when there is any delay of more than a few minutes, we began to speak to one another in the train. I met a nice woman named Nicole perhaps in her thirties and a girl roughly my age whose name escapes me, and was sitting across from a kindly old man who looked about as stereotypically “Old Man German” as one can imagine without leiderhosen and a mug of beer in hand.

One thing mentioned by the old man and agreed upon by Nicole was that the tree on the tracks was rather unusual as there's a rule somewhere that trees cannot be within 20 meters of the tracks. Of course. It'd keep the tracks from having trouble every time there's bad winds. Or so I said to the others who all agreed with the old man, but I knew in my mind it was a load of baloney. As I type this we're traveling through a forest on a different train and there are trees awful close to the train at times. Myth busted.

Another thing that became stranger still was the next update we got from the conductor. In America if one's plane is late you usually are told the bare minimum of information, probably not actually related to whatever problem there was anyways. Here in Germany they were frighteningly specific. We were told that the train was stopped, and would remain stopped for a rather long time but uncertain how long. The tree on the train tracks was on fire, by the way.

Wait, what? I must have misheard in German, or forgotten what the word was that I'd heard.

I asked Nicole after the announcement if I'd heard correctly. “Oh yes,” she said, rather nonchalant about the matter. The tree on the tracks was indeed on fire. Good job understanding!

My slight pride at understanding the rapid-fire PA system German notwithstanding, I was somewhat concerned, and my concern grew once the conductor came back on the PA, now in English. It seems that not only was there a tree on fire on the tracks but the entire Frankfurt station was a madhouse, with many many trains late or canceled and so on. We were advised to stay on to the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof (main train station) and transfer there if that was at all doable for where we wanted to go, as once we started going again it'd probably be easier to get around and that less trains were late there. Now that I write this, we might have been near the Hbf and told to stay on to the airport, but I can't remember and fortunately it's not a big detail.

I went on my computer and used my USB internet dongle to try and check the Deutsche Bahn website and find a timetable to see what was late and on time and so on. The site was completely down, probably an inadvertent DDOS (Distributed Denial of Service, basically when way too many people try to connect at once either accidentally or maliciously.) It was at this time I found out Nicole was going to Nürnburg as well, and I asked her if once we arrived wherever she felt was best if I could tag along, and she said yes.

So I settled in for the long haul, as it seemed that whether or not a large storm was in the area at the moment we would remain there for quite some time. I jokingly said we could all watch a movie, and everyone looked at each other and then to me and asked what I had. Huh. Well, the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, all three, in German. Oh yes, that will do fine, let's watch the first one! In English!

English, huh? I'd been stumbling around with German for a good couple hours during the train ride so far with the old man and then continued on with Nicole and the other girl since we'd stopped, and we could have been speaking English? Ah well, it was awful good practice and opened me up to code switching when I needed it now. (Code switching being the sudden change of language, perhaps even mid-sentence, in my case used when I don't know a particular word in German.)

So I loaded up PotC into my computer and put it on English but with German subtitles, as I think the old guy's English was not terribly good. But we all agreed that the voice acting is always best in the original language. I set the computer on a little table in the train and we all sat on the opposite side and watched the movie. It was fun, actually, and really helped the time pass. We finished the movie perhaps ten minutes before the conductor got back on the PA and said that the tree had stopped burning and had been moved from the track, and we'd be on our way soon. Hooray!

The rest of the train trip was relatively uneventful, and we stayed on past the first stop and got off at Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof (I think, as I said it might have been the airport) where things picked up again. The station was completely packed to the gills, people everywhere. I stuck close to Nicole since she knew German better and had more motivation to get home quicker. We passed right by the service desk which had literally hundreds of people in line, a crazy sight. We found a timetable board and then a train that would bring us to Nürnburg, arriving fairly soon if all went to plan. It somehow did, and we got on that train while hundreds of other travelers would be stuck waiting for directions from the service desk for hours possibly. Hooray for savvy traveling! The rest of the trip to Nürnburg was also uneventful, and Nicole and I watched the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie together, getting most of the way through before we arrived. On that note, I really like this new computer I have, the battery lasts for well over 6 hours even when watching movies.

Brugge

My trip to Brugge brought me first to the Antwerp central station, and whilst moving to change trains I noticed an unusual little kiosk selling an unusual good. Waffles.

“Waffles?” I thought to myself. “Who the hell sells waffles in a train station?”

It took me perhaps a good five seconds of looking at the thing before realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm in BELGIUM. In Belgium they have Belgian waffles. Of course.

I immediately went from being confused to being excited. Belgian waffles! Oh boy! I rushed over to the kiosk and took a gander at the offerings. Plain, with syrup, and then the infinitely more appetizing choices, covered in white or dark chocolate. I ordered with white chocolate, and was asked a question that only could be asked by someone completely in tune with my wants and desires could possibly ask:

“Do you want your waffle covered in hot chocolate, or one that's already cooled?”

The two choices were both immensely appealing but the answer stood out easily in my mind. Warm, gooey white chocolate all over my delicious Belgian waffle.

And it was delicious. So sweet, almost sickeningly so, but so incredibly good. The waffle was not drenched in the chocolate, which was nice, so when I was finished with the waffle there wasn't a pool of the warm sauce in the tray I was given. Not overkill, and I appreciated it.

Arrival in Brugge was no less of a treat. I got in a taxi and asked for a nice-ish hotel, and rather than simply whisking me away and dropping me off somewhere, he called and made sure the place he suggested had rooms available. Not a big thing, but a nice touch that further lends me to the idea that everyone here is extremely nice. The hotel itself was not terribly extravagant and well priced, with a decent room. There was no laundry service but when I inquired and was told no, the woman at the front desk (also the owner) said she'd happily put my things in anyways and so I got to have some clothes cleaned, which was wonderful.

I arrived fairly late in Brugge, and went outside to see a beautiful town square type area, with the setting sun. A big fountain and a large modern sculpture were there to see and plenty of nearby restaurants as well. I went into one at the recommendation of the hotel's owner and was not disappointed. A sumptuous meal of mussels, too many perhaps even for me, and a very good but unusual French onion soup. The soup came without the usual bread or croutons or cheese or anything in it, but rather on a rather neat plate along with the soup. It was a bit of a do-it-yourself, and I thought it was very well presented and a neat twist on a simple dish. It was here that I think it finally really sunk in that in this part of Europe (including Germany) side dishes are fairly nonexistent. Often a meal comes with a very small side “salad” that is hardly worth eating, and sides as we know them in the US are not there at all. I was beginning to miss broccoli.

The next day I left and walked the same way I did the night before, as that was the direction of all the sights in the city. But the square had completely transformed overnight (or rather probably early in the morning) to a bustling crowd of people and large automobiles, most of which looked a lot like RVs except with sides that opened to reveal little shops on wheels. Cheeses and meats were the main attractions, with some of the big vehicles toting clothing and a few other assorted goods. But mostly it looked like a mix between a French Quarter butcher's shop or cheese shop, a carnival, and an RV lot on football day at a university. Very interesting and the smells were amazing.

Next I went off to the chocolate museum here in Brugge after some leisurely walking around the city. It was interesting, nice, but not the wowing experience of the one in Köln. I think it'd be hard to top that, but still. This was more of a normal museum, with dioramas and a smattering of artifacts and the like, and was enjoyable. One thing that this one had that the one in Köln certainly did NOT have, though, was chocolate sculptures. Big ones. There was a perhaps 4/5 scale chocolate Obama there, various other people and some cats and other animals and abstracts. That, I will admit, was extremely impressive.

As part of a package deal, though, the chocolate museum came with entry to the potato and fry museum. Belgium is known (apparently) for its French fries, which are called a variety of things there but never French fries. I'll just refer to them as fries here out of respect for the Belgians. I entered with joy and childlike wonder painted across my face. As anyone familiar with me knows, I like potatoes. A lot. Eating them different ways is all fine and dandy, of course, but just potatoes as a whole I find very interesting. And so I went on a mystical journey of discovery through the museum, with an entire floor devoted to the humble spud and its history. Where it came from, how it came to Europe, how it gained acceptance, and more. This beat the heck out of the chocolate museum here, in terms of interest to me as well as in overall quality of the place. The second floor was all about fries and Belgium, which (they maintain) were first created there. They came to be French fries, so it was said, because French-speaking Belgians during the WWI gave some to some Americans. I don't know if that's to be believed, but I absolutely agree the Belgians make better fries, and they're served with pretty much every meal. I was ecstatic, and I am sure my cholesterol level was less than pleased with all of the fries I've been consuming.

My stay in Brugge was a short one, but I would happily go back there in an instant. The city was full of what I now know to be typical Belgian kindness, the food was amazing and the city has plenty to see. I think Belgium is kind of a forgotten country in America, when people consider taking a vacation abroad. Paris and France are huge destinations, the UK for its familiarity and certainly not its cuisine, and perhaps Germany and Spain or the Netherlands, specifically Amsterdam. Those are the destinations in mind when Americans consider going abroad, but rarely if ever Belgium. Let me say that Belgium has gotten a bad rap in our eyes from the horror we call Brussels sprouts. Such a nasty food marring our view of an extremely friendly country full of incredible other foods. And I think I was well told by those I met before coming to Brugge that it and not Brussels is the place to see. I hear Brussels is just another big city, but Brugge is (and I can attest) certainly so much more than a place to store people.

Achel and the Monastery

Bright and early...ish, after breakfast had stopped being served, I woke up in my amazing hotel room. I got ready and made my way downstairs in due time before off on my trek to the Achel monastery, whose actual entire name is far too long and hard to pronounce to put here. Upon coming downstairs a very friendly woman (I would later find out she was the wife of the very nice man that welcomed me to the hotel, both of whom are the owners) greeted me and said she was sorry that breakfast was already over. I told her it was no problem, since it was perhaps now 11 AM, and she offered to make me some tea. How nice!

Over tea the woman brought me a map of the area and told me how to get to the Achel monastery, explaining that this was a small town and the few buses in the area were not even running that day. Fair enough, it looked to only be about five miles or so.

I thanked the woman (I never did get her name) for the tea and began my trek, immediately coming back in to get my umbrella since there was a bit of light rain. I would have rented a bike, except I couldn't figure out where one does that (and am not entirely convinced it actually existed) nor would I have done well biking in the rain, holding an umbrella.

In due time I circled back again, remembering I had no cash at the time and would likely need to only pay in cash once at the monastery. Fortunately I was near a bank and had no trouble getting some money and soon resumed my journey. I walked and enjoyed the day in spite of the rain, and took some pictures and video along the way for later reference.

When in France in 2008 I biked with my family through many small villages, some fairly similar to this one in size and feel. One thing I noticed that I had not seen outside of France in Europe were signs saying that one is entering and leaving a town. A white sign with a black picture of a town, perhaps of the town you are entering, and the name awaits you as you come in. As you leave the same sign is there but with a red stripe through it. I saw these signs here in Hamont and Achel, the two little joined towns in the area.

Eventually I made my way to the monastery, and saw two somewhat distinct halves. A part that looked like a church, with its steeple and stained-glass windows and such, as well as presumed buildings for the monks in which to house themselves or something. I did not visit this part, it did not seem terribly open. The other half, the one I went into, was more or less a long rectangle of buildings, all connected, and decidedly brown in color scheme. Barrels and beer kegs were in a garage on the right and a long shop on the left. At the end was a small courtyard with plenty of tables and chairs and umbrellas stacked against the wall to keep out of the rain. I knew and had later reaffirmed for me that this was not exactly the ideal season for tourists. The brewery, which I could see just past the courtyard, was attached to the cafe, which I entered. Inside was a fairly unassuming row for sliding trays down to grab foods and order at different stations, a cooler with drinks, and a cash register at one end. I ordered a spicy meat sandwich, being told it was very good, and the blonde beer. Two beers were available here, both brewed here and not readily available elsewhere. The only other place I saw a beer from here, and only the blonde, was in a 6-pack of Trappist beers for sale later in Brugge.

My sandwich came soon, and I was taken back by its appearance. Imagine, if you will, a patty with three raised ridges going across the shorter of the two lengths of the meat. It was strange-looking, but I dove in. And boy was I glad the look didn't stop me, it was really good. The beer went wonderfully with it, and after finishing I had the dunkel (dark) beer, this one only available here and nowhere else.

Another very very good beer, both of them were amazing really. Yet despite the Trappist claim (substantiated by others!) for the beer being world-class, I would say this was perhaps only a step or two above a “good” beer one can get back in the states. Undeniably good, yes, but not so good as to be good enough reason to travel hundreds of miles from the other cities I visited to walk for miles in the rain and sit in a nearly-empty cafe just to try these beers. Which, actually, made it even more worth it. I went a distance that so very few have and indeed even would. All for the story and the beer and the experience. And I loved it, all of it.

After finishing my meal I left and walked around the parking lot, seeing a big sign. I went over and looked closer and it was a map of the monastery, of course. It showed the various buildings and nearby paths and such, and showed that the Belgium/Netherlands border actually crossed through part of the monastery! I went walking down a road in the opposite direction of town for perhaps two minutes before coming across a dotted line in the middle of the road, on a diagonal. It was the border, clearly marked with a BE on one side and NL on the other. So, of course, I danced on the border and hopped from one side to the other and stood straddling the line. Of course. One must do these things when one has the opportunity.

I really enjoyed my time there despite this being a town with so little to “do” there. I walked back to town and got a ride to the train station from the guy that welcomed me the night before after checking out, and hopped on a train to Brugge. While waiting for the train there was a girl at the station with whom I spoke before and during the train ride, and she knew the guy that brought me there, because it's such a small town. I love that, where everyone knows everyone else. She was concerned for the man because he had a black eye and looked like he'd been in a fight. I didn't ask him about it nor was it mentioned, but the girl knew him and wanted to know. I bet by asking her mom and asking around she will have found out how soon enough.

Luckiest Man Alive

I had to type this before going to bed.

I have always been told I am a lucky person, that things tend to go my way in sometimes big ways.

I have been told correctly.

After leaving Köln, I planned on going to Neerpelt where I'd stay the night at a local hotel before going to Achel in the morning. I took all the right trains to get to Neerpelt, despite some less-than-stellar signage and indications of what trains were where, when. I did, however, get off one stop too early, in Overpelt. This is where my luck went mund-numbingly well. Or, arguably, I made my own luck by taking a situation and making the literal best possible outcome from it.

There was one other person that got off at Overpelt with me. I was unaware of our location and I asked him where we were. He spoke English, thank goodness, and told me. I explained who I was and where I was going and he said I'd have a problem getting anywhere, because the buses don't run to Achel this time of night (I arrived at midnight) and there is no hotel in Overpelt or Neerpelt. No hotel. As in, when I arrived in Neerpelt, there'd not have been a place to stay. Not any tourists, is the reason he says. Fair enough, the place is a seriously small-town look from what I can see. I walk with the guy (Peter is his name) and find out something. This something is not lucky but almost horrifyingly coincidental. He's a Linguist, like me. He focuses on translation work, and has a degree in Linguistics as well. My jaw almost fell off when I heard that. He spent some time in the states, a few months, back when he was my age (so perhaps 25-30 years ago) in Massachusetts and everyone was very kind to him there so he said it was nice to have the opportunity to help out an American in need. I was touched.

So, Peter and I go to this local little night-shop 7-11 kinda place, where an Indian guy comes and greets us. Peter speaks with him in what I presume to be Dutch, it sure sounds like it. After some talking back and forth the Indian guy starts talking in English, which makes me wonder why he didn't from the beginning, but hey. They look up a local taxi service for me in the phonebook. Disconnected, they're not around anymore. The only other taxi service nearby says they're closed, but call X in Y and see if they'll do it. Peter asks me if we should, and the Indian guy says he'll drive me so long as we can find the address of the hotel in Achel, which is a couple towns over. I'm floored again. What a nice thing to do! The only two people I've met in Overpelt Belgium are extremely nice people who've gone way way out of their ways to help me. We figure out where the hotel is in Achel, and Peter calls them. Again, super lucky because they were about to close for the night but will now stay open long enough to receive me. Holy crap. I'm driven by the Indian guy to Achel and we find the hotel and I come in. Only 80 euros for a room, and I get to the room. It's the nicest I've stayed in so far, easily, and costs less than the most expensive by a good 35 euros. Friggin' awesome. AND they have wifi, which is how I'm able to post this. I know I ought be asleep by now, but I had to write this while it was fresh. It is simply too amazing a tale to me to not write down now.

So, to recap:

If things had gone according to my plan I would be in Neerpelt and have no immediate way of coming here. If Peter hadn't been there or been awesomely nice and going out of his way to help some kid from America for about thirty minutes after he'd have been able to go home, I'd have been up a creek with no paddle. If I had managed to make it to the 7-11 place Peter brought me (which I will admit I'd probably have stumbled across in a desperate search for someone, anyone if Peter hadn't been there) on my own, I would have lacked the knowledge of the language to navigate the white pages to find the taxi service that didn't work, nor would I have had any idea about this specific hotel Peter knew of. And even if I DID manage all that, if Peter hadn't helped or the guy simply wasn't really nice that worked this night shop, I'd still have not made it.

So, simply put, every single thing that could have gone right, did. And not only that, but that is perhaps one of an extremely tiny pool of possible paths, perhaps the only one, that would have ended with me in this hotel for the night instead of on the street.

If my luck were measured in explosive terms, it'd have to be in megatons. I almost cannot believe how lucky I am/was and how things turned out tonight. So instead I will just go to sleep, as happy as can be. The only thing that could be even more in my favor would be getting some acceptance letters from universities, I think. That or winning the powerball. Or both, which would be more in line with how lucky I have been tonight.

Köln

My stay in Köln was a bit shorter than expected, primarily because there was no virtually no hotel space in town, and it'd cost twice as much to stay the second day I wanted to. A big business conference was coming into town, it seems, and it was hard enough to find the hotel I did. So, only one day then.

Arriving late-ish in Köln, my first priority was finding a place to stay. The first 3 or so hotels I found, of varying degrees of niceness, were completely booked. The next one, though, struck my fancy and I took a room. Only 55 euros? What a bargain! Tomorrow would be 120 euros? I'll... pass. Very pass on that. My room was about a step below my freshman year at UF's dorm room, small and cramped with no bathroom. The bathroom was shared for the whole floor, like in a dorm also. Not a terrible problem, since I'm young and have dealt with it, but not exactly the "hotel" experience one usually seeks. Still, can't argue with the price. Of course, considering what I got, I sure would argue it if I stayed two days. Imagine what a normal hotel would cost for that second day... glad not to be a businessman coming into town here.

My day started off early for me, with me leaving the hotel before 10AM and paying the guy at the front desk 5 euros to watch my luggage through the day (apparently this one place didn't normally do that for free, or perhaps at all) I headed off to the one thing everyone sees in Köln, the Dom. The cathedral in all its impressive height and splendor, and it wasn't even a three-minute walk from my hotel. Neat! I even got to hear the big organ in there being played and listen to a bit of some sort of service in German before heading on.

A bit of backstory before I mention where I went next.

Back in the 9th through 11th grades, in High School, I had to take a language and had zero desire to learn French and Spanish. I wanted something different, something unusual. So I took German. It's why I chose Germany for my trip to better my language skills and why I wasn't starting quite from scratch here.

When in German class, I don't know what year, we had to do a report on a city in Germany. I picked Köln/Cologne. I don't remember much other than one very specific thing that stuck with me about the city, something I vowed one day to visit. A chocolate museum. A museum, dedicated to chocolate. As in, the history of and applications of CHOCOLATE. How cool is that? Very, very cool is what I was betting on.

I bet well, because when I finally got the chance to visit Köln (I feel a bit bad saying finally, it's only been 6 years at the most and I'm still only 22) I knew where I wanted to go. The chocolate museum. Heck yes. After the cathedral I walked my way there, ambling through a very cool shopping district and taking my time to look in a few shops and buy an umbrella, since the weather wasn't terribly great outside. I finally wound up right at the fast-flowing Rhine river, with a wonderful view of the other side, and began following it. I saw a building that to me embodied Köln as a whole as I'd been seeing it, which is very modern mixed with very old. The two had come together in this one mixed building, and I appreciated it just long enough to realize it was the building I sought. That was the chocolate museum! Even cooler! I then looked a bit harder at the flag waving atop the building and noticed it said "Lindt" on it. Oh.

I quickly made my way inside, not failing to notice across the way a mustard shop and museum across the street. That tickled my fancy, as I love weird things, and I made a note to go there next.

The chocolate museum surpassed every single one of my expectations. It was much alike the Potsdam Biosphere I visited early on in my time in Berlin in some respects, in that it has a (small) greenhouse in it, which I loved. I didn't think I'd see any mango trees in Germany, but I did! The exhibits were very neat and somewhat modern in design, with some interactive exhibits using buttons and light-up walls or speakers, or even computers in a few places. I learned of the history of chocolate from where it comes from to the people involved in its early European use to the father of modern taxonomy. I saw how cacao is shipped and where it is made and what goes into preparing it every step along the way. As I left the first floor of the exhibit I found myself in the more modern part of the building that I saw from outside. A cute little fake factory! How cool! I saw the various machines involved in smashing the beans and so on, every step to finished chocolate. Except something wasn't quite as I thought it was. This was no fake chocolate factory. It was an actual chocolate factory, in miniature, with people working it and machines making chocolate and seeing them bagged and boxed. Yes, on a very small scale and perhaps some of the earlier steps were left out so as to reduce the machines needed, but a significant portion of the chocolate-making process was THERE. I walked through it, seeing the machines and people working, and couldn't keep a big silly grin from smearing across my face as if painted on with chocolate.

At one very end of the mini-production floor was a beautiful fountain-looking thing with golden-colored cacao bean adornments. It was gorgeous, and I got close to take a picture. Huh, I wonder why there are ropes around it, there's plenty else equally as nice without ropes. Wait, why is there a table with vanilla wafer-looking things on it?

The beautiful sculpture I saw was actually a chocolate fountain! And to compound my delight and surprise one of the workers came over and unhooked the rope, letting herself in. She took one of the wafers and dipped it in the fountain and handed it to me. To say this was warm, fresh chocolate heaven is an understatement. It was simply divine. I was given another and then tore myself away after thanking the woman and went up the staircase to the second floor.

One the second floor was a mini shop where I saw one of the very boxes taken recently from the mini production floor with truffles I had seen being made not two minutes earlier, and indeed could still see being made if I so much as looked over the guardrail to the floor below. I was astounded, and bought one (only fifty cents!) It was amazing.

Next to the little shop was, apparently, some sort of press room where a chocolatier or chef or man posing as such was holding chocolates and bars and mods and such as a prss person photographed him for a magazine or something. Very very VERY cool.

Through a door to the right of that was a dimly-lit room that astounded me yet again. It was an example of chocolate being a "food of the Gods" and showed how the Olmecs and Aztecs and such used and traded and saw chocolate and the bean from whence it came. There were actual statues and rollers and pottery and more from well into the B.C. era depicting these cultures and signs saying what they had to do with chocolate. Once again I was completely amazed and found myself smiling like a fool. And after that room were a few rooms depicting the history of chocolate advertising and modern-day chocolatiers and their history. A small theater ran constant ads for different chocolates from perhaps fifty years ago. A hallway showed the evolution of different mascots of chocolate makers, and more. This was astounding.

After all was said and done I went to the cafe for a bite to eat. A nice linguini lunch with some sort of meaty sauce along with a water and of course a big hot chocolate, one of the better ones I've had outside of France's delicious and thick drinking chocolates. I'm also glad the lunch items there didn't have a need or feel to include chocolate in their dishes just for the sake of having it.

I reluctantly left what may have been the coolest museum I've ever visited and walked across the street to a much more reserved place, which seemed to be mostly a mustard shop. Lots of mustards which you could try and tons more that adorned the walls of many many types. I bought a ticket to the tour and waited for the hour, this time being joined by a group of about 8.

The tour was only in German, but I understood a good deal of it. The history of mustard, and especially a lot on how it was made. A replica of an old press (that may not be the correct term) was there and it was actually fully functional. We saw the rough paste in one vat and were allowed to smell it as it mixed. I got my face right in and took a whiff. WOOOH was that a bad idea. My eyes immediately started watering and I almost choked. I backed away and tried to regain my composure as the others in thr tour blindly followed suit from me, each in turn being completely and utterly overwhelmed by the superhumanly strong smell that can only come from a vat of unfinished mustard. The tour guide seemed to get a real hoot out of letting us smell the mustard, I think that's her favorite part of the job. She then showed us (with the machine going too!) how mustard is ground with a giant stone more finely and then deposited in barrels, and I must say it was enlightening if not perhaps quite as thrilling as the chocolate factory. It was certainly more of a sensory overload, at least for my nose, though.

After that I figured out how to move my plans all up a day then spent my remaining hours wandering through Köln, and wound up at a bar for the one other thing I wanted to do/try in the city: Kölsch. It's a kind of beer, and I'd liken it to an exceptionally smooth and somewhat bitter Hefeweisen. It went down very smoothly and was a neat little taste (literally) of the local flavor.

As I write this, I'm on my way to Neerpelt, Belgium. That means my internet USB dongle won't work, but I'll just post this once back in Germany. Along with a few other wonderful tales, like tomorrow. I'm expecting to make my way to the Achel Trappist monastery which is only 7 in the world that can call themselves true Trappist breweries. Apparently the beer is world class and I'll get to see the brewing process and the abbey, at least a bit. So, very much looking forward to that.

Kassel

I'm a guy that loves adventure. Being thrust into exciting and unusual situation, figuring things out, and making my own way.

My trip to Kassel was short but sweet, marked by me seeing exactly what I wanted and some other stuff along the side too. I came to this town for one main reason, actually, which was to see Löwenburg, which wasn't exactly what I was calling it. I was referring to it as "Löwenburg Schloss" but it turns out Löwenburg was more of an awesome midieval home for a family, best I can make out. There's a castle nearby, in the same national-park-esque surroundings. Absolutely beautiful hiking, I was there when there was still plenty of beautiful white on the ground but many trails were semi-traversable (albeit slick!) and water was flowing through the little streams, not to mention the abundant evergreen trees and shrubs all over. A simply stunning location.

Anyways, I did make it to Löwenburg. It took we a good while, taking first one tram to the outskirts of the park then finding the bus doesn't run there that time of year. I went back into town, took another tram to the other end, then figured out the bus doesn't run at all that time of year. Oh well, as I said, I did a lot of hiking, which started right around the time I figured there was no bus.

It was absolutely worth the trek, too, I got to spend some time with nature I otherwise wouldn't have and really enjoyed seeing everything. I must say though, while the Germans have a well-deserved reputation for being very straightforward and marking everything terribly well in their cities, the park was nearly completely devoid of signs denoting which way went where.

As a result I ended up first at a nearby castle which these days houses a good many Rembrandts as well as other paintings of a somewhat similar style, and plenty of sculptures from Egypt, Greece, and more. I opted not to go inside at first, seeking out my main attraction first. It was found not terribly long after that, and it was everything I could have imagined if perhaps a bit smaller. Very old Gothic architecture, walled, nestled atop a hill, it was perfect.

I went inside and took some pictures before finding and going into the little gift shop and getting a ticket for the tour, and I had to wait the ten or so minutes until the hour for the tour. Far be it from me to keep the Germans from staying to their meticulously-planned schedules, despite the fact that I was the only one there for the tour. I was informed that the tour was only in German, and I said "kein Problem" (no problem). I only asked for them to use smaller, more common words and speak a bit slowly, and since I was the only one on the tour, my guide was happy to oblige.

It was made clear right off the bat that I was not allowed to take pictures, and I agreed. After all, even without the flash on pictures can be a bad thing, right? No, of course not, that's stupid. But I agreed nonetheless, and simply kept my camera behind my back in my hands, snapping upside-down shots as we walked through. They were none the wiser, and some of my pictures actually turned out decently. Most were blurry and too low of an angle, but when life gives you a no photography sign, you take photos behind your back. As the old saying goes.

There was a living room with multi-hundred-year-old games inside, a bedroom with equally ancient adornments, a hunting room with actual crossbows, pikes, old rifles and mounted heads. Very cool. My favorite, I think, was the armory, though. It had lots of armor for both humans and horses, and weapons all over. Morningstars, swords, lances and so on. It really was amazing.

Next up was the aforementioned castle, which was very nice if exactly alike any other museum you have ever visited inside. A few stories with varying exhibitions, some very impressive (especially some of the paintings, and it was neat seeing real Rembrandts up close!). After some time spend there I treked back to the train station then took that to town, and walked around. The town of Kassel was not particularly big, I would guess perhaps 40,000-70,000 residents. It had quaint shops as well as bigger stores along its somewhat-packed streets that every city in Germany I've seen thus far has had. It did have its own Opera house, though, and a good smattering of museums. One I really wanted to visit was the Brothers-Grimm museum, one I didn't know was there until already in the town. How fortuitous! They apparently do some language research there, which I bet has a lot to do with differing versions of the Grimm brothers' stories in differing locales, or the evolution of the tales over time. I was very excited to go. Unfortunately, the museum was undergoing renovations scheduled to end perhaps a week or two from now, and so I didn't get to see it, a real bummer. Still, I really enjoyed my time in Kassel.

After Löwenburg

Last few days in Berlin and leaving

This last weekend, my last weekend alone in Berlin, was a fun (if not particularly special) one, and a nice visible change.

When I got here, it was bitterly cold every day, getting colder still for the first few weeks. Days where the temperature hit -20C were common, which was insane to me.

These last days the snow has been melting, and I have even seen some of the ground lately. The day I leave I can see some green peeking out in areas, and entire sidewalks are free of snow, slush, or ice.

That's a wonderful change. When I arrived I was literally dragging my suitcases through snow and ice, making it very hard. Now as I left it was muddy and muddly everywhere, and so I had to maneuver a lot but the going was much easier.

The weekend before I left I spent more time riding the S-Bahn around the city, planning out my trip after Berlin and studying. While on the S-Bahn, as often happens, a hobo came on. I had already been here for a bit and planned to be here longer, and wasn't bothered by him. Yet instead of beg for change or play an instrument he sprawled out over a couple seats and promptly went to sleep. He slept for perhaps an hour, and when he awoke it must have been with a massive thirst. He pulled out a bottle of wine I didn't see him bring on with him and wanted to open it. Rather than using a corkscrew to remove the cork, he took out a wooden stick and began forcing the cork inside. With a BANG! it went in, and wine went violently out in a spray. The hobo was covered as was a good amount of his seat and the ground between us, but fortunately no other people.

Noone said anything, but many glances were exchanged.

As soon as the bottle was 'open,' in spite of being suddenly drenched with wine, he mulled it up to his face and began greedily sucking on it as though a baby with a bottle. It was a bit surreal.

After leaving that train and heading to my temporary home, there was the usual congregation of hobos selling tickets for the U- and S-Bahns, perhaps real and perhaps not. There was another one, though, his face painted in a bizarre scheme consisting mostly of polka dots, blowing giant bubbles. That was unusual and he actually did a few 'tricks' with the bubbles, namely getting one bubble inside another, and so I gave him a 20cent coin. Usually I only spare a bit of change for the better musicians, but the novelty and face-painting got the better of me.

The last day in Berlin was nice, I went to class but left early because I knew it'd take a long time to get to the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) with my suitcases. I was right.

When I packed to come to Germany I knew I'd need some cold clothes, and I don't do well with the cold. So I went nuts and packed every piece of cold clothing I had, and then some, borrowing from my dad. It turns out at least half of the cold-weather stuff I brought I haven't even touched. Two jackets and overcoats, one middle layer, and shirts were enough for me for tops, and I always made do with one layer for pants. Oh well, better safe than sorry. Except now I'm sorry that my arms are coming out of my sockets from dragging the enormous weight of my suitcases, but hey.

Leaving in and of itself was not special if perhaps very heavy, and once I got to the Hauptbahnhof I realized I had a Berlin U- and S-Bahn ticket that still had a week left on it and I couldn't use it. So I sold it to someone going into a ticket office for 10 euros, and to boot I did it in German! The person immediately knew I wasn't German, but did compliment me on my German. That and the fact I could articulate myself to explain what I was selling, how, and why really made me know that I learned a lot at the Goethe Institute and via the Rosetta Stone, and so I'm very very happy with how things went.

The train to Kassel, my first stop, arrived exactly on time and stayed for only a couple minutes before leaving. I stowed my suitcases and sat, only to be told after a few minutes my seat was reserved. Oh. I was then told (in German, still!) how the seating system works and that I can sit in unmarked or "frei" seats, as shown on electronic signs above each seat. Nifty. The train got up to 150mph (250kph) a few times and I really enjoyed the ride. I chatted with someone next to me in German for a while, and felt really good about myself that I could do so.

I arrived in Kassel, got situated in a nearby hotel and went to a neat place for dinner. It was a very local place, a bit out of the way, a 20 minute walk in a light drizzle, but worth it. Fantastic local beer and a very local dish (or so I was assured by my waitress) of bread with serrano chicken and egg on top. It was unusual, but good.

I would like to pat myself on the back now, if I might, for doing so well outside my 'element.'

I'm in an unusual town in an unusual country speaking an unusual language and eating some very unusual foods. And loving every minute of it. It's all new and all a great great amount of fun.

Etymology isn't just for words

Do you ever hear something and immediately think "I've heard that before! WHAT IS THAT?"

I sure did. Many days over almost the last month and a half. I head it on the S-bahns here in Berlin, Germany.

What sound, pray tell?

Oooh, I'll tell you what sound. It's the sound that has been haunting my dreams, cheeky in tone and infuriating in my inability to tell from whence it came. (Or, if you want to hear it, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NG3Nc_WMg-w&feature=related from 1:08-1:12 or so.)

It's a crisp three note, two-tone beeping as the doors are closing and the S-bahn (not the U-bahn, it has a different repetitive beep) is readying to leave a station.

Fortunately for me and my sanity, I like pirates.

Rather, I really like Hans Zimmer's music, and also the movie Pirates of the Caribbean. I have been listening to the soundtrack a good deal lately, and just today bought the movies (in German) to watch in my room tonight.

It was then and there, of all times and places, that the mystery of that S-bahn noise became crystal clear.

It's the same sound on those... whistles you hear in the background of pretty much any movie involving a nautical anything.

What is that thing called?

Thank you Google, that didn't take me long at all.

It's called a Boatswain's whistle, or a Bosun's whistle. It serves its function by being high-pitched and thus easy to hear over a lot of noise, and can communicate a great deal of orders to crew. They are still used, or at least an electronic synthesization of the sounds, from time to time. Like in the S-bahn of all things.

Here are a few links relevant:

http://www.sccheadquarters.com/UserData/root/Files/Training/Proficiencies/Piping/Boatswains%20Call%20Handbook.pdf

http://www.hellenicnavy.gr/multimedia_en.asp?multimedia_type_id=4

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boatswain's_call

I believe the two-tone, three note call on the German S-bahns is the same, or a near derivative, of the "General Call," as it were, on ships. In movies and on the train we do not hear the initial steep ascending note separated from the low-high-low call. If one takes a look at a good many of the sounds on the second site there, the helenic navy one, you will hear on most the easily recognizable sound.

While the General Call was usually preceding a broadcast order and on the S-bahn it follows it (or is used in lieu of one), I can easily see the similarities.

One, the tones are roughly the same, if not arguably the same entirely. Phonological similarity.

Two, the timing and order are the same. Morphologically similar, if you will.

Three, the semantic properties of the call. In naval uses, often preceding a call, and that call could often be used to indicate that one is or is about to be underway. cf. the Navy calls, especially "Sailing Execute."

So, with that, I can say with a degree of certainty that the boatswain's General Call and the call used on the German S-bahn before it leaves a station are etymologically related.

Not often you see something like that, huh?

The Flying Dutchman: The Review

So!
I'll post soon some of the minor things I've been up to, but mostly it's all jsut studying and such these days.
Though yesterday I did get the chance to see The Flying Dutchman, the opera, at the Deutche Oper! I was very excited to go. I spoke with someone in the seat next to me beforehand, for a while, in German, and felt very good about that. The opera had subtitles, which was great so you can tell what people are singing. Unfortunately while my German is getting better by the day I still couldn't follow too much of it. To add, it was a very 'modern' adaptation with a different setting, I think, but all the same music and words. So, I'm going to describe the opera, running through what happened. I will take my best guesses (of which there are a great many guesses) and simply rattle them off as if they were fact, rather than hemm and haw about what might have happened. I will often miss the mark completely due to misinterpreting the adaptation of the opera or not understanding the German. In only a few cases will I list the alternative explanations, and also please keep in mind the entire thing was very confusing to me for a multitude of reasons. I may have the order of events somewhat wrong too due to my confusion.
I was not the only one not appreciative of the modern interpretation, by the way, there was a good deal of booing at the end of the opera. You might see why soon.
So, without further adieu, the basic plot and my review of the Flying Dutchman!

The story opens on a busy stock market, with a great many people singing about a ship and the sea. A south wind is mentioned, or rather the lack thereof.
A girl, later revealed to be the boss' daughter, stops a man from suffocating himself and he seems rather displeased at this. He is the Flying Dutchman or perhaps the other love interest. The boss (kapitän) ends up meeting a Dutchman (Höllander) and inviting him to join them, on the boat, not the stock market. The boss is speaking about his daughter and the Dutchman is speaking about how he really wants a loyal wife and can't go home, and boy oh boy does he want a wife. The boss for what appears to be very little reason thinks his daughter would do nicely for this stranger, and there is much singing to this effect.
The second main scene takes place in a nail salon. Many women are talking about men, and one in particular (the boss' daughter) is speaking about who she likes. She sees a wall of pictures and begins marking the guys she doesn't like. Someone takes some of the pictures from the wall and then there is a game of keep-away, and someone takes a cellphone picture of the daughter (Whose name started with an S, and was rather odd. Seela or something.) There is another man, definitely the other love interest for her and possibly the guy trying to kill himself earlier, that tries to get her to run off with him. He is sad when she says no, and then he reveals a dream he had where the girl's father comes home with a guy for her. She then leaves.
Next comes a scene where the girl meets her dad, who is mad she doesn't kiss him hello, and she meets the Dutchman. The girl doesn't seem too happy about it, but they are to be wed at once and everyone seems at least ok with the idea. Immediately following that is a big party where one guy is already dead, another guy drinks till he dies, and then a good many guys (about 5) are killed via suffocation. There is no explanation for this. Also, a baby carriage is set on fire on stage.
The next scene, the final scene, depicts the daughter and the Dutchman watching over the scene with dead people. Then many other alive people come out, there is some discussion, and the other love interest comes out. The daughter may or may not want to be with him, but she shows what a loyal wife she is by killing herself. Every other woman present follows suit.
End opera.

So, considering that even those that speak German had no idea what was going on because the adaptation was so weird, and a bunch of people were booing (I clapped, I loved the music) I have to give this play 2/5 stars. The music was incredible, the actors were great, the singing was wonderful, but the actual opera, the production and what happened, was absolutely inappropriate, insane, and a total non-sequitor.

Dixieland Jazz and Whores

Every Wednesday, the Goethe Institute (where I am studying) has a meeting of sorts for the students, called Stammtisch. One translation is "table reserved for regular guests." I suppose that's not far from the truth, in that it is a regular occurrence for us to be there. I don't know if anything is resevred, though.
I had not gone the first 4 weeks I was here. I knew it was a bar atmosphere, with lots of Goethe people, but the middle of the week was a hump I could not easily surpass. I tended to take "naps" during that time, great big 4+ hour naps. And then I would miss the party.
I heard there was live jazz played there, and I dedicated myself to go. Live jazz? Yes please.
Having never gone before, I made sure I had the correct address and so on before leaving. As it would happen, the address I was given was either crap or an estimate, as I would find out later. I spent about an hour walking back and forth up and down this street, looking for the bar. I shared the street with a great many party people, and quite a few ladies of the night. It must be a popular spot for them; they were everywhere.
After a long time of fending off surprisingly bilingual requests to spend the night with these women and becoming more dejected as I could not find the bar I sought, and therefore my friends, I began heading home.
"Where you going tonight, honey?" one of the women asked me. Now, I knew what she meant, but I figured I had nothing to lose. I told her where, and then said I couldn't find it. She smiled. I think she'd seen me wandering back and forth a few times. After asking if I'd rather go with her, and me reassuring her that while she was very pretty (much prettier than whom one might find on the streets in the US, and not just her, all of them) I just wanted to find the bar. She was nice enough to tell me. It wasn't even on the street I was told, but rather a side-street nearby. I found the bar in quick order and joined my friends. I was instantly reminded of a Lewis Black quote, "If it weren't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college." Except for me it was "If it weren't for helpful whores, I'd never find my friends."
Take note, dear readers. If you ever find yourself unable to find something, and even asking locals doesn't help, find a whore. They likely know the area very intimately, and probably won't even charge you if all you want is directions.
When I arrived, somewhere around 10:30PM, there was no band but a great big pile of people in the bar, full beyond what any fire marshal would allow back home. Probably here, too. I grabbed a beer and ended up having to sit on the edge of the stage, and chatted with friends (although in order to chat I pretty much had to yell.)
Around 11, some mostly older guys came up to the stage, taking their time to set up. I was very excited. My friends didn't seem to care too much for the music, but I couldn't wait. A trombone, trumpet, clarinet, piano, drums, bass, and a... banjo?
I'll admit that while I knew I'd end up seeing some live music here in Berlin, of all the instruments I expected to see the banjo was not among them. Yet here it was, in Berlin, Germany, and they were all warming up.
A few minutes later they opened up, with a song whose style I could instantly describe as Dixieland or New Orleans Jazz. It was mostly in a standard blues progression, each song starting and ending more or less together with some semblance of a tune, but each song most of the players would take 16 or 32 bars or so for soloing, then passing off to the next. It was amazing. It was completely unexpected. I had a big silly grin on my face that wouldn't go away.
Berlin continues to surprise me.

This next bit certainly isn't big enough for a whole post, so I'll stick it here, almost as a postscript.
The day before the Stammtisch I went to Potsdammer Platz, a revitalized part of Berlain (as best I can tell it used to be somewhat cruddy and has had a lot of development to bring people in) and went to a TV and Film museum. It was fascinating, though I couldn't so much as bring my phone inside. Very serious about taking no pictures there. Two things stuck with me from that. One, WWII was none too kind to TV and Film people in Germany, and it was interesting to see how people from all walks of life fled the country, not just "ordinary people." The other thing was that apparently a lot of early, B&W films were actually in color, but not from color film. They were hand-painted, frame by frame. Mostly by women, and stencils (they didn't specify what type) apparently helped speed up the process. I even got to see an example, in motion. It was amazing, to think that was once how things went.

That's all for now!

History, and Also Doorknobs

This past weekend, I decided that some more history was in order.
I spend the first part of the day at and around Brandenburger Tor, reading the plaques and signs and such. The area has quite a bit of history. Fairly close by is a monument of a very somber note, but historically important.
The murdered Jews of Europe.
There are a great many slabs of some type of stone, of varying heights, giving one an area for reflection, contemplation, and a physical reminder of events past, but not forgotten.
I would not stop there. Next on my list of places to visit was the Jewish Museum, a place where I spent quite a few hours. It did not focus entirely on the events surrounding the Second World War, but rather focused on Jewish history as a whole, and more specifically the importance and history of the Jewish people in Germany.
There were exhibits showing how early Jews in the region lived, near rivers and how they interacted with other groups. From an early time, Jews were prosecuted, much as they have been for almost all history. Certain events were blamed on the Jews, including the Black Death, and great numbers were killed at other points in history, not just during the Holocaust. There was of course a great deal, an entire two floors arranged in very different ways, about that. Unusual architecture on the bottom floor meant one was always walking upon a strange angle, and no room was quite rectangular or square. Hallways were sparsely decorated, giving more room for contemplation. The other floor was more of a traditional museum piece, with winding passages through abundant galleries and exhibits.
Germany does not try and hide what happened. Nearly every time any piece or memorial and so on is mentioned, it is always to "the murdered Jews of Europe," going on in most cases to specify, just in case, fascist Germany as the perpetrator. The floor whose events primarily have to do with the time before, during, and after World War II are very detailed and are meant to provoke thought at every turn. The amount that can be seen showing what were used as reasons then to persecute Jews and the very differing views of today are often shown, to highlight the importance of understanding the past so a better future can be forged.
I spent a good deal of time there, with an English audio guide (my German isn't good enough yet to have really been able to take much away from it if it were German.) It was strange, to see the history so many think of when they think of Germany, through the eyes of the place responsible. But Germany today is not the same place as it once was. To hold a grudge against the present-day neighbor to France would be for all Australians to be upset with the UK for shipping them there. For Americans hating the same group for requiring to fight for freedom. All that remains of Nazi Germany may be a few skinheads in the counter-culture groups you might find anywhere, or perhaps some very old racist people. This Germany, the Germany I am visiting, is a very accepting and multi-cultural place that is not afraid of its history, and has made no attempt to sweep it under the rug. Instead it accepts its past and is determined not to be as it once was.

On a much lighter note, on Sunday I went to two flea markets, one of which had a vendor selling only doorknobs of various types. Never seen that one before. I also ate Burger King, as I could find nothing else nearby, and am rather displeased with myself for eating there.

Weekend Trip to Potsdam or Possibly A Freezer

This last weekend was my first trip any real distance from Berlin, albeit not very far. A train ticket to Potsdam cost me only about 7 dollars, as Potsdam is covered as part of the surrounding Berlin area by its train system. It's three sections, A B and C. Potsdam is in the C area, so instead of getting a very expensive regional train ticket it cost me but a few Euros.
Potsdam feels to me like a big small town. Not a suburb as many outlying areas near large US cities might me, almost like another big city in and of itself, just scaled down. The buildings were only a few stories high instead of in Berlin where they'd be a few taller. There was a tram system, but the trams were almost adorable in size and it was supplemented by buses.
I had two goals in mind with my visit: One, see some street I'd heard of that doesn't allow cars and has a lot of neat stores and restaurants, and Two, to see the Potsdam Biodome on account of how cool that sounds.
I was fairly lucky to find the street (whose name escapes me if I ever even knew it) that has all the pretty stores and such, as I stumbled across it by accident. It so happens there's a second Brandenburg Gate there. I had no idea there was more than just the one, but yep, it's there, a bit smaller but quite accurate in its construction. I had a wonderful lunch in a ice little cafe with a simply splendid "Italian Drinking Chocolate" that reminded me of the thick hot chocolates available in France. It was very nice.
During and after lunch, I asked about 5 separate people how to find the Potsdam Biosphere, on account of my not understanding the directions from any one. I did eventually piece together a rough idea of its location and hopped on a tram, actually ending up exactly where I'd intended. Score one for me!
The Biosphere was very nice. It was warm, there were lots of tropical plants and some animals in little exhibits (mostly spiders, iguanas and the like) and plenty of signs in German telling about the exhibit. Unlike some of the other attractions I've seen so far (well, a museum anyways) this place did not cater to English-speakers so I had to get around on German, which was all well and good. I had no idea what most of everything said but I had a wonderful time looking around and trying to read the German.
I left after dark and made my way back into the heart of Berlin with only minor trouble, to slumber. The next day I really wanted to visit another Flohmarkt, or flea market.
I woke up early enough to get to visit a few flea markets in different parts of the city. I mapped out my routes and the locations so I could find them easily. I left, cursing the biting cold. It was -15C Sunday, and pretty much the same on Saturday. I arrived after a while at my first flea market, to find it completely empty. There was a British couple taking pictures of one another in the park where the flea market meets, but no other people. I could see where the stalls usually were. There was a sign on the street saying (I think) where to park on Sundays if you have a stall. Yet there was noone. I was out in the cold when even Berliners would not be. I felt proud of myself even while I could not feel my ears. I looked around for a bit and saw nothing but residential blocks so I made my way back to the U-Bahn (subway) and took it a stop or two in a random direction, and got off.
After a bit of walking I ran into a pretty little park with a few hills, and a small frozen lake. People were ice skating, sledding, and having a great time. At the top of the hill was what clearly was a restaurant, looking much like a restaurant one might find at the top of a mountain used for skiing. I made my way to it and inside, and it looked gorgeous, just like a ski lodge. It was a Sunday brunch too, and so I got in line to be seated. The place was full and I made some idle chitchat with a mother of two while I waited on a table, learning she was from Nicaragua and had been here for almost a year. We spoke of each of our homes, talking about how much warmer it was there than here, and I felt for one of the first times I was having an actual natural conversation with someone. Sure, it was slow and my vocabulary is terrible, but she understood me for the most part and I her.
Lunch was delicious if uneventful, followed by a meager attempt by me to continue exploring the area before I began risking hypothermia, or at least losing an ear or digit. I trudged home, to relax in the heat and study. All in all, a good weekend if not filled with flea-marketness.

Koreans, Movies, Parties

While the last few days have been fairly uneventful, hence my not posting anything, yesterday (as of this post, I always struggle internally with references to time and the potential confusion they can cause) was certainly a change of pace.
School was perfectly normal; we're learning adjective endings and it's a rather meaty part of making your German not sound particularly awful.
It was not class, but what happened afterward, that was interesting. For lunch I decided to go with 3 friends from the Goethe Institute, one from my class and two from higher ones. We went by car, as one of them lives in Poland and took his car here. Despite the fact that Berlin is a big, major city, driving is not a big problem here. The city's public transport is good enough that the streets remain free, I suppose. Anyways, we ended up at a restaurant unlike anything I had ever seen.
It is a Korean restaurant, but as soon as you go inside your eyes are battered with homemade tapestries on the wall all depicting Bible quotes and verses. Everywhere. In a Korean restaurant. It was very strange, but we'd heard wonderful things about the food. So we get a table and some menus. More than half of the text in the menus was totally unrelated to the food, it was more verses from the Bible as well as charts and illustrations. We couldn't make out too much of the text, but the general idea of it all is exactly what you'd expect from anyone trying to convince someone of Christianity. There was a lot about God's love, things Jesus did, and so on. We all decided that, however strange it was for that to be in the restaurant and in the menu, to stay and eat.
We ordered our food and it came a short time later, the other three ordering something called bibim-bab, which looked to be a rice, mixed veggies, and meat bowl. It smelled delicious, and all agreed it was very hot. My dish was a chicken one with similar vegetables, and it too was hot (albeit not terribly) and extremely good. I'll probably go there again, even if just to try and figure out what the heck that place is about.
On the way home, very close to it, there was some kind of commotion. Upon further inspection (because come on, who doesn't love to see commotions?) it was rather apparent that a movie scene was being filmed there, or rather was preparing to be filmed. There were a bunch of people milling about, preparing everything, one of those big movie cameras that was even on movie-style tracks to roll around on, and a small crowd. I took a couple pictures (soon to go on Flickr!) and was on my way. I didn't find out if it was a big-time movie or not, as the size of the set and the number of people involved certainly didn't look Hollywood, but it couldn't have been a small-time movie, it was too well-organized for that.
That night I met up with the same friends plus another to go to a party on a boat. It sounded really interesting, and we were led by an old friend of one of the guys in our group. As it would happen, this was not exactly a party for people our age. Most of the attendants were at least thirty years old, and the distribution of people trying to speak other languages was somewhat skewed. I signed up nonetheless, putting the language I speak and wanted to speak on a sheet, and was nearly immediately set upon by a somewhat attractive Turkish woman in her early thirties. She was simply delighted that I spoke English, and naively at that. I knew I was in trouble then, but I was polite. We spoke for a while, I ended up being a guinea pig for a few others, and then quietly excused myself from my group of friends to go home and study. Boring, yes, but this trip costs too much money to be sitting around speaking English all day.

Always Keep Trying, It'll Be Awesome

It has been said many times, and in may ways, that you should never give up. If you get lost, wander around until you find a path. If you fall down, brush yourself off and get back up.
I am glad I listened to those bits of advice from over the years.
I wanted to visit a castle while here in Germany. The first, mainly due to proximity, is Charlottenburg Schloss (Castle), nestled in western Berlin. I did minimal research to find out its exact location, assuming I could find it using a downloaded map on my phone. It seems I was wrong. The best I could do is find a Berlin-Charlottenburg subway station at first, which I had a sneaking suspicion was nearish where I needed to go, but was clearly not the right place. After some fumbling on my phone, I knew I would have to speak to some Germans and ask.
The first few I spoke to were very kind, if not terribly knowledgeable about where I was going either due to my terrible German or only vague understanding of where my destination was. It was already almost 2:30 at this point, due to a late start to the day, and I was a bit disheartened.
I regrouped my efforts and looked again on my phone for just Charlottenburg. I found something near a really big park, and hoped that was it. Another subway ride and I arrived. I made my way to a street that had the word "schloss" on it, hoping for the best. I looked both ways, and lo and behold! The castle was visible! And really far away.
So I began my trek towards the castle. Perhaps a 20 minute walk or so, which wasn't bad. The temperature wasn't a biting cold at the moment and the road was beautiful, a boulevard from the time of the castle itself, I suspect. I arrived and made my way into an opening in the castle, the only one I saw. Inside was a man dressed in garb straight from the 1800s, and after a bit of broken German from me he switched to English, explaining the castle and how to access the gardens and so on. He also told me of a special event that night, a dinner in the palace and an orchestra performance after that. I was wowed; I had to do that.
First, though, I had time to kill and so I wandered to gardens, which were absolutely gorgeous. As I walked through snow-covered trails with beautiful big trees around me, I could not help but think of it as a winter wonderland. There were others there, walking around by themselves or with loved ones, and the entire thing was very serene. I made my way out of the woods on the west to find a large lake central to the castle, and gardens that must look spectacular during the summer. The lake was frozen over and children were ice skating on it, and a man passed me on the snowy ground on skis. He was cross-country skiing around the gardens of the castle!
I kept walking around, really loving the scenery and paths and gardens, and made my way onto the frozen lake. I have never walked on a frozen lake before, as best I can recall, and it was a bit of a strange experience. Enjoyable, though. One thing that I found very strange was that some old footprints on the ice were visible in that they actually warped the ice a good deal. As if stepping in mud, there was an indent the shape of the shoe. I had no idea ice could do that and was a bit concerned, but people were walking all around in that area, so I suppose it was safe.
After the gardens I returned to the castle and got tickets to dinner and the orchestra. One of the workers there wanted to practice his English with me and I wanted to practice my German, so he and I read together, filling in each other's gaps in knowledge, the menu and descriptions thereof for the night. It was fun.
Then came dinner.
It truly was a meal for a king, with beautiful tables, candlelit and with numerous servants (well, waitstaff) coming and going getting you anything you needed. The first course was a highly unusual soup, a creamy asparagus-based soup with coffee oil added (Frederick the Great really loved coffee.) The second course a wonderful pheasant in a grape sauce with a potato strudel, and the dessert was something akin to a chocolate mousse using very old ways of preparing it: just like the aztecs had their chocolate, so too was early European chocolate flavored with chilies and somewhat bitter. The Europeans would add some other spices to it and eventually began making it sweeter with milk, and the dessert I had was absolutely astounding, a blend of flavors I have not before had in chocolate.
After dinner was the concert, and I was absolutely wowed by it. The performers were not part of a travelling orchestra that performs from place to place, but rather a dedicated group picked from different orchestras to perform only at the castle. They played a song or two that everyone might recognize, including the Blue Danube, as well as some opera every other song or so with a wonderful soprano and tenor lending their voices to the group.
I wanted to get some culture while here in Germany, not just going to restaurants and school and such. It seems I was quite in luck. An unforgettable day and night, and had I given up when I could not initially find the castle none of that would have happened.
So if at first you don't succeed, just keep trying. The dessert is worth it.

School-Endorsed Drinking and Florida Friends

Earth can seem like a pretty big place, but it isn't.
I have heard stories of people running into other people in the unlikeliest of places. Berlin, while not as unlikely as, say, Tibet, is a rather strange place to bump into someone.
My sister's friend from Elementary school has come to Berlin, on nearly the same day as I have, albeit for a much longer time. This friend I have seen coming and going for years and years, and if you had said that someday I'd meet her for lunch in Berlin I would have been confused at best, and perhaps overreacted and called you a witch.
Yet, this past Friday, I did indeed meet her for lunch.
We met on a subway platform and proceeded to wander around in search of lunch. We were very close to Under Den Linden, a famous street in Berlin with very expensive stores, so cheap food was not abundant. We did, however, find a chocolate store whose name translates to "Colorful Chocolate World." Check http://www.flickr.com/photos/uflinguist/ for pictures (as well as pictures of everything else I am up to here.)
We ended up going a ways away and getting Indian food for lunch. I've noticed that there are absolute tons of Vietnamese and Indian places around Berlin, and very few Chinese places. Many say that they specialize in Oriental food, but it really means (once you look at the menu) it's Vietnamese or maybe Japanese. Anyways, we had a nice meal and then went our separate ways.
After a short rest at home, I left to return to the Goethe Institute to meet up with some others. The Goethe Institute has "cultural activities" after classes often that you can sign up for, and this one had quite a few people sign up for it. I can't recall the German name for it, but it basically equated to a pub crawl.
We met and our guide first boggled at how many people showed up, more than twice as many as the sign-up sheet could accommodate. He then went on for a rather long time about the history of drinks and beer and such in Germany and Berlin (I think, I still can't really understand a lot of what people say, but some people told me the Cliffs Notes later) and where we'd be going. 8 bars, each with a different local flavor and theme and way of doing things. We would not all fit in to each place.
As I suspected, as soon as we got to the first bar, the group splintered. About 25 went into the first bar, where there was a reserved section for us. Some friends and I decided to heck with it, and went to another bar on the list, and spend the evening staying one step ahead of the pack. As soon as a few people we recognized began to trickle in, we would quickly leave and make our way to the next bar.
All in all, a very fun night and certainly not something that a US program would be endorsing for its cultural activities. ;)

What a schmuck

Here's a little post that's more geared towards my interests and not my time in Germany. Presumably the sort of thing that will occur more often after this trip, so take that for what you will.

I was in class a few days back when I learned a fun new German word: schmuck. It means "jewelry." Immediately that little voice in my head spoke up.

"HEY! You know that word!"

"Well, yes, of course I do," I responded, not aloud. "It's a yiddish slang term."

"And you know what Yiddish is?"

"I should certainly hope so, because if you do and I don't then I'm going to start wearing tinfoil hats."

"Exactly! A Germanic language! As is German!"

"Hence the name." I could see where the voice was leading me. Schmuck, spelled the same (at least a good deal of the time) certainly doesn't mean 'jewelry' in Yiddish, heavens no. The Online Etymology Dictionary, one of my favorite sites, defines it as "contemptible person" in today's English, and I find no objection with that. It goes on to say that in Yiddish the exact meaning is of "penis," which I found a bit strange but not entirely out of the question, and that in term came from Old Polish smok for grass snake, or dragon. A bit of a funny semantic leap, if I don't say so myself.

So then are schmuck and schmuck related?

No, it turns out, not really at all. Despite coming from very closely related languages, the two terms are a simple coincidence.

The German schmuck is actually related to the English "smock" in that they both are originally from the Proto-Indo-European *smeugh-, "to press." Cognates across a few languages lead on to some other interesting trains of thought to follow another time. The PIE base's original notion was roughly one of "garment one creeps into" and there is an Old English cognate, smygel, meaning "burrow." Perhaps the linguist and writer J.R.R. Tolkien decided to make a little etymological link to one of his characters? As it turns out after a tiny bit of digging, yes. I independently discovered the source of his name that is well documented on Wikipedia.

So there you have it! Not only can a word in two closely related languages be spelled the same and yet have wildly differing meanings, they need not even be etymologically related! That and Tolkien seemed to have a thing for old Germanic languages.

Museum trip!

Monday was fairly normal, for what normal now is. I went to class and did little special afterwards, but came back home and studied. Rather boring.
However, on Tuesday, I got to go to my first museum here in Germany! It was the Pergamom Museum, and it has a lot of large architectural finds there from ancient babylon and those areas. I will post some pictures a bit later on my Flickr account so those interested can see, but it was very interesting.
My favorite part was not the architecture, and certainly not the hourlong tour in which I understood perhaps only 1% of what the tour guide said, but the samples of ancient writing.
I saw with my own eyes for the first time actual Cuneiform! I think. I mean, I know it was Cuneiform, but may have seen it elsewhere. I also saw some ancient Aramaic, and I took note that some of the symbols greatly resembled to me some of the more Far-Eastern writing systems.
I spend a good while wandering around and taking in the museum and went home, rather happy. Now if only I could understand what the tour guide said...
I feel like I am making progress on German. At first it was very fast, remembering everything I once forgot. Now it is slower, like building a pyramid with nothing but logs and rope. I am pressing onward, though, not just because I cannot stayy home all day but because I want to conquer this language. I really truly desire to be able to speak, read and write it. And so I shall.

My First Weekend OR Hey, I don't need to iron my shirts!

My first weekend in Germany has been a nice quiet one.
Attempts to meet with a friend from back home that happens to be in this city at the same time as me have failed a few times, and that's OK. There's plenty of time for meeting her and with other people.
I spent most of Saturday inside, working on the Rosetta Stone for German and watching German TV. I still can't get most of what they're saying, but I have a feeling I soon will. Other that that, Saturday was pretty uneventful. My host and my apartment-mate (I really can't think of a good term, because we're technically not roommates) each watched a movie at separate times Saturday and tried to get me to watch with them. I tried, but still understand so little it wasn't very useful.
Sunday was more eventful. As I prepared to leave in the morning it occured to me that I need not feel as bad as I have for having unironed shirts, even my nice ones. Reason being I'm always wearing at least one layer over it, even in class, so noone can notice. A little weight off my shoulders.I went to a flea market and actually asked for directions in German, and understood juuuust enough of the responses to actually make my way there. I know that wouldn't have happened a week ago. And one thing that definitely was not doable for me until recently was the random conversation I had with a fellow traveler. We both bitched about the cold together and discusses how many layers of clothes we were wearing. I explained I was from Florida and not used to wearing layers and did not have much cold-weather clothing. The woman told me where I could find some. It was nice to be able to do something so basic as share the weather and my feelings on it with someone. I might add that the German "Mir ist kalt" is the correct way to say you are cold, instead of the nominative "Ich bin kalt" which would denote you have a Scrooge-like demeanor. Until Friday I'd have screwed that up out of ignorance. Yay progress!
I finally got myself a scarf, so I'm not using one of my apartment-mate's. It's 100% alpaca, or so it claims. I don't think it's soft enough to be alpaca, but it certainly is itchy like wool. Either way it wasn't that expensive and is rather warm, so I'm happy. I also got myself some proper gloves and some "alpaca"-wool socks as a present for someone that likes itchy (but warm) things.
I finally took the city tram when trying to get back home after that, and promptly got on the wrong tram (which I would not discover until about 3 stops later.) I then got on the wrong U-bahn at that station, then made an incorrect transfer after that during my attempt to start heading back home. A bit of reading, slow translating on my phone, and map studying later I had the correct bearings and made it back fairly quickly.
After that, which is right now as I type this actually, I plan (plan? Did I shift from narrative past to present tense? Sure, why not...) on studying and hopefully hearing from my friend from Florida and either meeting with her tonight or getting a German-language version of The Producers to watch. Either way it ought be fun.

Days 3 and 4: Einkaufen für Schuhe

My German is getting a tiny bit better. Each day I'm learning new words, making new friends, and remembering more of the German I had once learned.
The weather, too, is a bit more tolerable by the day. I'm forced to walk at bare minimum for about 20 minutes outside each day, but am spending much more than that walking around either alone or with friends, exploring the city, eating, and more.
On day 3 I went alone to Zoologisher Garten and finally found a nice store to get a backpack and some shoes that weren't getting wet. I was lucky to find a backpack at a not-entirely-insane price of 27 euros (nearly all of anything approaching a decent size being 50 or more) and some shoes that I won't name the price, but were significantly less than the insane other prices offered elsewhere often exceeding 150 euros. I did, however, neglect to try them on because I am stupid. I would not remember I am stupid until trying on the shoes the next day.
Shoes are something most people take for granted. Sure, many women love to buy shoes, but once you're wearing them you tend to not worry about them too much. Unless they hurt.
Boy oh boy did these shoes hurt. From perhaps five seconds after putting them on to the time I returned home and blissfully took them off I was severely uncomfortable. I thought of nothing else but to remove them. I did remove them, in class, so I could concentrate on German.
After class I met with some friends to go to Zoologisher Garten for shopping and I was thrilled to go. I could return the horrible shoes! We made plans to meet soon after, to give us time to return to our places and freshen up or whatever, and I put my old shoes back on and got the bag and receipt and such I needed. We met up and went to Zoologisher Garten, which was an area with a zoo and plenty of stores. We stopped by first the store where I got the Horrible Shoes and I returned them, and got a new pair that I actually tried on. The result was a very happy me. We spent the next few hours wandering around stores and then stopped by Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächniskirche, which was very beautiful and full of historical goodness. Next we wandered to Brandenburger Tor (gate), a very famous landmark. It was a bit of a roundabout way we took, and ended up walking a long ways on Juni. 17 Strasse.
The walk to Brandenburger Tor was fun in that I have recently decided to model my way of living after the famous Arctic and African explorers of old, who had great big mustaches and pressed onwards in spite of sickness or cold and so on. I can just imagine them now, with no supplies and a half-frozen team, smiling in spite of it all and wiping off those little round glasses they seem to always wear, and speaking in a booming but friendly British accent that "We're nearly there, lads, don't give up now!" That's what I want to be. I'll admit I used to be a bit of a complainer when younger, and that's just no way to live. Not when I can live up to so much more.
So as we were walking down a very lengthy road and the Spainard with us started complaining about the cold, I bucked up and smiled in spite of the horrible cold I am unused to. I reminded him we were on an adventure and that we could see our quarry off in the distance, and how much fun we were having. He reluctantly agreed. And so we pressed on, the cold unable to affect me as it once may have. And my feet rather comfortable in my new shoes, which I might add were even less expensive than the ones I had bought the day before.
We made it to Brandenburger Tor and took some rather ineffective pictures in the dark before each heading our own ways, and I fell asleep very soon after coming back, even foregoing dinner. It seems being an explorer can really take it out of you.

Day 2: I love pastries.

I am not a morning person.
I never have been. I don't know if I ever will be. But the jetlag or the sun going down super early or something is helping me get up very early. I think there might be another underlying reason, though. The pastries at these bakeries are so good I just might make sure I always have time to get them on the way to class. I had some kind of bizarre U-shaped pastry, a bit like a dense croissant with... nuts or something on top? A glaze, not too much nor too little, and a bit of a filling that made me weep for Americans that have to have crappy doughnuts and such in the morning from Dunkin' Doughnuts or whatever they choose. America is missing out on some amazing stuff.
Class was a bit better than yesterday, partially because what German I learned continues to come back and partially because the teacher is using smaller words and simpler concepts. I think. It's hard to tell, but I definitely understood a heck of a lot more than yesterday. We're stocking up on verbs and conversation and even started touching on past tenses today. Certainly no dragging our feet, that's for sure. I did notice that when we went over how the past tense works, we accomplished in one hour what was perhaps the grammatical bulk of a semester of German at the High School level in America. That was a bit sad to realize, but gives me hope I'll be speaking well in no time.
After class came a meet and greet with free drinks and pretzels, and I filled up on that too much. I didn't eat much of my lunch, which is something that starts with a D that, I'm told, is the Turkish equivalent of the hamburger. It reminded me of Mexican food, with a tortilla-like shell filled with meat (meat that was literally shaved from a huge hunk, which was really weird to me) and toppings.
I came back home and took another nap, this time till 9. I simply cannot allow this to continue, or I'll lose a lot of time I could be doing other things. From eating too much before lunch and lunch, I wasn't very hungry and simply went without dinner. I studied and then went to bed, looking forward to another cold but fun day in Germany.

Day 1: Was hat sie gesagt?

My first full day here in Germany!
I woke up early, partially because of the lack of being on schedule, and got ready with plenty of time to be at class on time. Ben (my roommate) and I grabbed a pastry and drink from a local bakery on our way out, and I have rediscovered the joys of foreign bakeries. Everything looks great, I have no idea what it is, and whatever I pick ends up being a great choice.
Public transportation is very on-time here. The stations have electronic signs saying when a train is to come by, and they're always there when they say they will be. Everything is well marked, too, which is fantastic.
I arrived at the Goethe Institute very early, and had to wait a bit to take my placement test. When I took it, I became distraught. It was an actual test, in German! Presumably some basic stuff, answer questions based on a reading and such, but I couldn't understand the questions, answers, or anything save for the occasional word. I was worried. After the test came an interview, and that went much better, because the woman interviewing me adjusted her German to my level, the cobbled-together and small words level. We understood one another well enough, and I was ultimately placed into the class that's right above beginner.
The class was already under way when I walked in and took a seat, and I immediately became worried again. The teacher was speaking in German only, and everyone didn't look as confused as me. I would later find out that they were just as confused, so I found the right class. It also turns out that we weren't expected to understand all or even most of what the teacher said, as long as we got some of it and most of the general ideas. By the end of class I was understanding enough to grasp the concept of what we were going over, which was how "because" works in German. What German I once learned is trickling back, and I was noticeably more attuned to the language (albeit still utterly incompetent) by the end of class.
After class I went to a local lunch place, something of a pizzeria, that had amazing specials. All the pasta and pizza dishes were about half off, everything at just over 4 euros. Which is amazing. I sat with people of all nationalities at my long table and spoke in English with a few that could, and horribly broken German with the others. We all got varied dishes, each looking absolutely amazing. I got a salmon pizza, which was rather odd, but good. After that a few of us wandered around to a few stores, me looking for shoes and a backpack and the others nothing in particular. I found some nice shoes at prices so high I stumbled back after reading it and vowed to search a bit more later. I went home (can I say home to represent where I'm staying? I'm going to, at least for simplicity's sake) and took a nap. Well, not a nap, it was till 10 at night, which was bad. I can't keep doing that.
I woke up and went off to dinner with Ben, and we found a little Indian place very close to where we're staying. Despite it being 10:30 at night, it was packed. By that logic, it must be good food, and so I convinced Ben we ought eat there. This turned out to be one of my better ideas, because the food was at least as good as any other Indian place I have ever been. Everything smelled amazing, looked great, and tasted divine. The prices were absolutely fine too, and so I know I'll be going back.
Afterward, it was back home and time to study, and then sleep.
All in all, a pretty good first day.

Day 0: German Efficiency

One thing about air travel is the sheer amount of uncertainty. My luggage became separated from me when I missed a connecting flight due to cold, and this caused me no small amount of distress. But lo and behold, it showed up with me when I arrived here in Berlin, so I have nothing to worry about. The first thing about that I noticed about German airports, or at least this one in particular, was that there is no big area with baggage claims. There's one small one right outside the gate, which was immensely helpful. The second thing I noticed, and still cannot get over, is the process of going through customs.
I remember going through customs into the US before, with long lines and questions asked and a stressful experience. This was not so here. After getting my luggage, I went into a small room marked as customs and the exit. There were two customs agents inside, each helping someone. One looked up at me and simply waved me on. I froze. "That's not right," I thought. A moment later he gestures again to the exit and says something in German, which makes clear to me they have no interest in checking my bags or even stamping my passport. So I left, bewildered.
Later I mentally went back and made sure I didn't miss or skip something. The best I could fathom was that at Frankfurt, where I missed my connection, there was a passport controlled area, and a man looked at my passport for perhaps 3 seconds before handing it back to me, unstamped. I don't know if it's considered necessary when in foreign countries to get your passport stamped, but I am definitely here without that.
I arrived by taxi (my German and jetlag both conspiring against me to take proper, and cheaper, public transportation) at the Goethe Institute much too late; they had long since stopped testing. I was worried I would need to find another cab and attempt to ask my way to where I was staying when one of the few remaining employees at the Goethe Institute asked who I was. I said my name and she said (in English, thank goodness) that my roommate was here as well. He'd stayed there to meet me, which was amazing, and as an added bonus he spoke much better German than me, really conversational, and knew how to get some good public transport!
This made me feel much better. He took me to a subway station and helped me get a month-long pass for the subway and other public transport, and helped me find my way to our destination.
We're staying on the 4th floor (5th if you're in America and start counting at 1) of a set of flats in a fairly residential part of Berlin, southeast of the center of the city. My room here is bigger (and better decorated, arguably) than my one back home, and our hostess is very nice, a woman aged roughly 50 or so. The toilets are your standard different-from-the-US-and-therefore-weird variety, and the apartment complex is somewhat old and hot water comes and goes as it pleases, but other than that this place is really nice.

First Post: Preparation Ach

Day -1 of my trip. Packing.
Packing for trips has become somewhat of a common ritual for me. I am certainly no jetsetter, traveling the world and starring in films opposite Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick, but I have had the good fortune of seeing more than a few countries in my few years so far.
The ritual has evolved over the years; my mother used to make my sister and me packing lists (don't forget that Plucky Midwestern Can-Do Spirit, they would often remind us,) or simply pack fore us, long ago. But those days are gone and now the task of preparing for a trip falls solely upon myself, albeit with the occasional prod or reminder from a parent or other loved one.
I like packing.
It seems that no matter how many times I pack for a trip, no matter how big or small, there's always something that I forget. Of course I am not the only one to have this happen to them, it's a common occurrence. I don't fear this forgetting of something, as I have long since come to grips with it. There's always going to be something that doesn't make it along. It's my job, though, to make sure it's as few things as possible (well, ideally none, and to be honest I've made more than a few trips without forgetting anything, but I don't want to brag or anything) and as non-vital as possible.
That, I feel, is the essence of packing for a trip. Make sure you've got everything you need, and forget something forgettable if you can. Kind of like expecting the unexpected, just more tangible.
Anyways, as I said, I like packing. It's a game I play between myself, my brain that loves to look at it in a Big Picture sort of way as I try to force myself into a narrower scope to check individual things off, and the things I am trying to pack that try and hide to their best ability.
I already know one thing I forgot for this trip, and I haven't even left yet. My favorite light jacket. Can't find the damn thing. Does that count as forgetting it? It won't be coming with me, most likely. I want it with me. I think that gets to count as forgetting it, even if I know dang well what it is I want to have with me.
I like packing because you have a three-dimensional Tetris game at your hands, of stuffing as much as you can into a humble box, all the while trying to get it under a certain number of pounds. (I also have failed in this regard, but I'm going abroad of a long time, give me a break.) There are infinite combinations and space-saving techniques and so on, but it gives me a small pleasure to finally close the suitcase, finished. After which point I usually open it right back up and chuck a few nearly-forgotten items inside. And do so at least another two times before finally leaving.
Where am I going, though? Well, that's a bit vague. I have an address in Berlin, Germany. I have an itinerary. I have a program I will attend for the next 8 weeks, learning German as fast as I can. I also have no idea where I am staying. Sure, the physical location, but the instructions are a bit vague. I may be staying in a dorm, an apartment, or a house. I have no idea. And I am fine with it.
Some people need to know exactly what is going on, what will happen, at every moment. I do not. I like to think of myself as a kayaker, kayaking down an unfamiliar river. I am skilled at maneuvering and enjoy the challenge of something new, and so I plunge headstrong into situations that require the ability to be flexible, to adapt to new situations and irregularities. They say the best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry. (Well, They being Robert Burns, and They actually said "The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley.") I could not agree more, and decide that a plan is all well and good, but one must have contingencies and flexibility to succeed if anything goes a-gley.
And so I lay down my plans as well as my clothes and toiletries and various electronics and cords and keys and papers and my passport and some Euros and so on, knowing that there's something that might not make it, regardless of how much I plan, and yet sleep well knowing that everything I need, everything absolutely vital to my survival is with me. Should my plans go a-gley in a bad way I will not be fazed, but instead pick myself up and continue onward. For I am headed to Germany tomorrow as one of the most exciting trips of my life and cannot miss it for anything. I will succeed in my trip, I will succeed in my mission, and make this worth while. Years of other trips have prepared me for packing. My parents have prepared me for interacting with other cultures and peoples from their gracious dragging me along to places as a child. My family and fiancee and friends and more have prepared me for this with their support and kindness.
Now it's time to sit back, sleep, and await a heck of a day tomorrow.
-Daniel