What are you Hungary for?

Our next stop was to Budapest, and unsurprisingly the train we took from Prague to Budapest was just about the same as that of what we took before... perhaps a little nicer, a little cleaner. But, we made our way to Budapest not really anticipating anything spectacular when we first arrive because Brooke's friend told us not to judge the city by its train station... Fair enough. We got there and couldn't find an ATM because, we later found out, the banks stopped putting their ATMs in the station because they city kept cutting the lines or something. So, after searching high and low with a small group of Americans for an ATM across the street from the station that would accept our cards (without a microchip, that is), we got ourselves a cab and headed to our hostel in Pest, the European Union Culture Capital of 2010. 

For those of you who are not familiar, Budapest used to be two different cities, Buda and Pest. Actually, I think there was a third, but they just took that name out of the equation when unifying the cities. Anyways, this divide is very clear in the city even today, because Buda and Pest are divided by the Danube river. The Pest part is known for its more advanced architecture, settlements and businesses, and is also very flat. The Buda part is very hilly, known for the Castle Hill and all of the homes of the aristocracy of the city in huge houses among the hills. 

After settling into our hostel, where we were actually put in a room with only two other people and no bunk beds, instead of like a ten person room (which was awesome), I recognized a restaurant that is also in Berlin, Vapiano's, that I suggested we go to for dinner. Good choice. It's basically fresh Italian food made to order, and just so yummy and filling. Often times, and I don't know if I've mentioned this yet, but, when I'm traveling and finally get to some place, I'm not usually in the mood to try new things immediately - I want something familiar and satisfying. After a fantastic dinner, we walked around the pedestrian/shopping square in Pest, enjoying some ice cream, as well. 

Later we decided to hit up something called a Ruins Pub - something very unique to Budapest, even though we found out everyone else in the world was going to see a very famous DJ at a club in the city. Regardless, these Ruins Pubs are set in old houses that were abandoned. We were definitely among a lot of Hungarians, rather than tourists, which was also a nice change of pace from Prague. One of the rooms' ceilings was gone and it was just open to the warm night. We enjoyed a drink, mostly just people watching while we were there, and then headed back for the night. We didn't really get to go to bed until after meeting a couple Scottish guys, who we talked to for a while. That's something I've really enjoyed about hostels - meeting lots of people from all over. Anyways, we were exhausted and called it a night fairly early. 

The next day, we started off by going on a boat tour of the city on the Danube. Ever since Copenhagen, I've been a huge fan of the whole boat tour thing. You can see so much and gain a lot of perspective of a city by taking a boat tour, especially if you do it before you set out to walk around. One of the biggest, greatest architectural features of Budapest is their parliamentary building on the Pest side... Funny enough, I was sitting in front of a group of Brits, and all they had to say about it was: after we built Big Ben, everyone wanted to copy us just bigger and better, but we came first. I laughed to myself, naturally the Brits have to be the best. 

Once we were done with our boat tour, we found Morgan, enjoyed a coffee, and set out to actually walk around the city, heading to Castle Hill in Buda, first. After quite a hike, we got to the top, where honestly, there wasn't tons to do, but lots to see. There, the president of Hungary still lives, and so we saw his house and mostly just walked around some of the beautiful buildings. Not to mention, the view of the entire city below us. We walked through the Fisherman's Bastion, which was primarily built for decoration, and rightfully so, with roman columns, lots of steps and seven towers, each representing Magyar tribe that came to Hungary in the first century. After walking through a market, we then found our way into the the Matthias Church, where I, naturally, needed to peak inside. Budapest's first parish church, this is where many of the Hapsburgs were crowned throughout the years, among a lot of other landmarks throughout history for the area. 

We made our way down the hill and back to Pest to tour the opera house, which was probably one of the highlights for me. Our tour guide was so much fun and super animated. She was definitely around my age, and was so knowledgeable, though, with the third largest opera house in Europe being your subject, that can also be a little easy. It was amazing to hear about all the thoughts and details behind this ornate building. One being: the architect was so mad when he realized that he designed the room where royalty would come in and walk up the stairs to the theater so beautifully and they wouldn't even notice because protocol meant that they couldn't look around... to solve this, he put a huge mirror at the top of this great staircase, so that even looking forward the whole time, they could still observe the whole room. That staircase now, by the way, is used for children to come and sit on and watch miniature operas performed at the bottom - neat. Also, the royal box still exists and now is only for Heads of State, with one exception. Can you guess who it was? Who on this earth defies all rules to exactly what royalty means, so much so, they get to sit where so few have ever been allowed? Okay, well I'll tell you... Madonna! Apparently, part of Evita was filmed here, and Madonna wanted to come see an opera and naturally demanded she get to sit in the best seats in the house... After much prying, she got her way. God Bless America.

Food was afterwards in order, so we enjoyed a bagel in a Jewish cafe (yet again), as we were on our way to see the Great Synagogue - the largest functioning synagogue in Europe. It was very Cathedral like, and extremely ornate, particularly for a synagogue. There was a Jewish museum that we opted out of, but saw some pretty cool old grave stones and a couple awesome memorials... This area is actually, also, where a mass grave for Jews who died from an awful winter, while taking refuge in the synagogue because of the Nazi regime is located. The more moving memorial, to me, was a steel weeping willow with inscriptions on each leaf of a Hungarian Jew or family that died in the Holocaust. The inscription for the memorial reads, "Whose agony is greater than mine." Definitely something to think about... In German the word for memorial is denkmal - a combination of two words, denk (to think) and mal (time). When I was walking around the weeping willow, I didn't think of it as a memorial, but a denkmal. For some reason, I think the German expression describes the purpose and meaning more than the English word. 

Anyways, we stopped by our hostel for a few after this, before heading out to a park in Pest, which is the location of a castle from the "divided" times and also one of the famous baths. Not routed from the Romans, but the Turks, these baths have many different purposes. In this particular one, there is a huge swimming pool, thermal baths, and is also used for some sort of medicinal/therapy purpose. It was definitely something gorgeous to see, and very popular among the Hungarians, primarily the young. Then, we headed on our way to meet the girl from Morgan's school, who she was staying with and is interning in Budapest all summer, for dinner. 

While waiting, we had a little incident, and when I say we, I mean Brooke. We were standing outside of the designated Burger King, when a gypsy came up to Brooke, mad that the group of people she just asked for for money denied her, and drew her fist up to Brooke's face. Now, before I finish this story, there are a few things I would like to preface it with. First, everyone in Budapest, and probably Hungary, hates gypsies. Two, I'm still trying to figure out exactly what defines someone as a gypsy other than possibly being nomadic? Three, this woman was not even five feet tall, and not imposing physically beyond her ready fist. Okay, so literally this was happening less than a foot from my face, and even though it felt like slow motion, before I could make a decision on whether or not, or what the best help would be from me, intervention wise, Brooke ran. And when I say ran, she booked it toward a VERY busy street while screaming. While the gypsy began to chase her laughing, I looked at Morgan, asked her why this stuff always happens to Brooke, and immediately made my way around to meet Brooke and the gypsy on the other side of the circle they were making. Brooke ran straight into a small and close liquor shop, and we followed her in there, not knowing where the gypsy disappeared to. After calming down from everything, and talking to some already drunk American grad students who were in the store to buy some more, we waited outside only for a couple minutes more before Morgan's friend came. Thankfully, later, we were able to laugh ourselves silly about the whole incident. Honestly, it was so surreal.

Alisia, Morgan's friend, took us to a restaurant she knew well, that served some traditional Hungarian food. Though, not brave enough to get one of my own, I did try some of the goulash (pronounced gooey-ash), which was excellent! It was nice to talk to Alisia, because, having lived there, she was more familiar with the people and the scene in Budapest... Apparently, just about any restaurant you go to in the area, is truly geared toward tourists, because most Hungarians could not afford to eat there. The meals, though, were relatively inexpensive. She told us about how corrupt the aristocracy is of Budapest, down to the public transportation system, where they'll overcharge people who are caught without a pass, especially tourists. This is something that we heard about from our Scottish friends, too, as they got caught without tickets and were charged ridiculous amounts of money for it. 

The next morning, we did a little running around before heading on our train to Munich... But, not without, once again, a minor incident, that I myself experienced. When at the post office, wanting to send a postcard, I pulled out one of my 1000 Hungarian Forints (equal to approx. $5) to pay for the stamps. All of a sudden, an already unhappy looking woman working the register looks at me with an even angrier tone and says, "NO GOOD." I looked at her so confused, thinking that maybe the bill was too big and that she didn't have the right change for it, or something. But she just kept saying no good and pulled out another 1000 Forint bill showing me the differences proving that mine was fake. All of a sudden it made sense why she was so angry with me, and I pulled out another bill, that was, in fact, real. Immediately, all I could think about was where that bill had come from... where I had given a bigger bill and gotten change. I believe it to be a touristy shop, where I got a magnet for my grandma (by the way, Grandma, you're going to have a nice handful of additions to your collection). I didn't even find myself angry! I was mostly just irritated because I had planned the amount of cash that I withdrew to the T. 

Emily a few years ago probably would have been VERY angry... Emily now, truly wasn't. Why? Well, when I think of money being stolen, I automatically think of a story Gwil told me during our confirmation classes, way back when. Apparently, his daughter had money stolen in a gym locker room, and, having worked for a long time with juvenile court cases in Butler as a judge, he told her not to worry, because for whatever reason, that person probably needed the money more than her. Probably, the store owner knew I wouldn't catch the fake money when she handed it to me, and planned it after realizing it was fake, as the signs were very clear. Or perhaps, she never caught it. Either way, two other people benefited from my stupid $5. And just like Gwil told us, they probably need it more than I. 

Hungary is on the right path toward full "development," but it still has a way to go. The Hungarians are known for looking sad, following right behind their national anthem, possibly the only one written in a minor key. Their history consists constantly being taken over and/or ruled by so may different groups of people, it's amazing the people can all identify with themselves. Knowing that, as well, brings so much sense to the fact that there is practically no relative to the language they speak there... Not to mention, the common people who live there can't even afford to go out and eat? Or that counterfeit money is so easily circulated?

Budapest was certainly a great break from the more museum-like Prague, and I wish I had had more time there. Yes, there were tourists there, but not like Prague, and the whole city didn't seem like an exhibit - it felt real. But part of that reality is things like low income life and begging and criminal activity. Despite all of its down trodden-ness, Budapest is possibly my most favorite city that we've been to so far. Why? Because it's real, because every human has to struggle for something at some point in their life. Some people struggle for more necessary things like food and money, while others struggle to merely gain comforts that are only actually wants. If my $5 went to some Hungarian who actually spent it on food, then how I could I possibly be mad? Traveling has definitely allowed me to gain a lot of perspective about people, where they come from, and why they are who they are, which is all I really wanted out of traveling around; Hungary only enhanced this.  Just like we all struggle, we all are looking for something in life... so, what are you hungry for? Is it food? Is it companionship? Happiness? Nice things? Or, in honor of where my eyes were opened even more: what are you Hungary for?

Finding Your Spot

Prague, called and spelled Praha, was immediately a relief from our time in more primitive Poland. Actually, the first stop our train made in the Czech Republic came as a huge relief as we heard an announcement made in English out the window. When we arrived in the train station in Prague after a very hot eight hour train ride, we were relieved to find everything user friendly to anyone who can speak Czech, English, French or German – finally. I accredit a lot of this to the fact that the Czech Republic is the only former nation of the USSR that has officially been declared a “developed” nation, with a plan to adopt the Euro in 2012. We did the usual dance of trying to find an ATM, our way out, etc., with the understanding that taxis that pick up travelers from the station tend to be running a scam on prices. Brooke was highly impressive after we finally landed ourselves in a cab with a set price of 200 Czech crowns equaling about $10. The first cab we tried wanted to charge us 800, and the second cab started at 400 and Brooke haggled our way down. Purely entertained, I just sat back and watched her do her magic on these guys. On our way back to the train station, we found out the actual metered fair was only 89 – that’s traveling for you! 

Morgan, our other friend from Berlin, had already been at the hostel for a couple hours, so we had talked to her before we arrived getting the details and understanding what to expect. Honestly, this was probably my favorite hostel we’ve been to… maybe because it was a lot more quiet? Again, we trudged our way up three flights of stairs to get to our room which was a little more apartment style: 12 in our room, a kitchen, our own bathroom, and a living area within our room with a nice balcony, as well.  There was a common room upstairs, but we really didn’t have a need to go up there, as everything we wanted was all in one place. This hostel seemed geared more toward someplace to live rather than someplace to party. A nice change of pace, regardless. 

The three of us headed out for dinner, which ended up being a fantastic simple, yet comforting pasta dish of spaghetti and meat sauce. And once again, we found ourselves in a place where a meal like that costs under $10. Then we headed back to the hostel to get ready to go out for the night. Before we headed out, though, we had a good time getting to know some of the people in our room and played cards with them in our little living area… We ended up in a club that was recommended by a friend, yet was not really alive on Wednesday nights. Not to mention, most of the people there were either middle-aged men or 18 year olds from America and Germany. Needless to say, we called it a night early and went back to crash. Thankfully, our hostel was in such a great location, that it was only a two-minute walk away. 

The next morning we rose pretty early, got ourselves some breakfast food at the nearby grocery store and headed out for a day of mostly just walking around. We started out walking around the old town square, and then over to the Jewish Quarter, called Josefov. There, with one ticket, we were able to go in and out of many different synagogues with various exhibits within them. There was also a Jewish Cemetery, which has 12,000 graves, some dating back to the middle of the 15^th century; and because of how full it is, the burials are sometimes twelve layers deep. Also, ironically, we ran into a couple from Brooke’s synagogue back in Philadelphia, twice. It is a small, small world. It was amazing to see how dense this area is with synagogues and other Jewish institutions. Something I guess we’re just not used to. But, it’s almost as ridiculous as two beautiful Catholic cathedrals sitting right next to each other because the grandson of one king, who then became king, wanted a bigger and better one built. Who knows what the rationale was.

We found our way to the river and settled for a nice lunch right on the bank, where I enjoyed a $5 chicken marsala. After another good meal, we walked down the riverbank more, passing the Kafka museum as well as lots of washed up dead fish on the shore. I feel that kind of thing would make Franz Kafka happy to hear. That is, the romanticism be taken away from the river bank by the reality of dead carp lying in the path of those who walk along it. Good ol’ Franz Kafka. Anyways, we crossed the famous Charles’ Bridge, which was built in the 14^th century and witness to at least one murder (the only one I’ve read about because of a priest and his ties to the royalty). Now a pedestrian bridge, it is possibly the most ornate bridge I have ever seen with thirty 18^th century statues among other decoration. With lots of venders and tourists we walked back toward the Old Town Square after passing by many huge old ornate churches practically positioned on top of each other, apparently a lot like Italy.

Finding our way, again, to our hostel for some down time before we went out for the night, Morgan and I got food from the grocery store for a light dinner costing us a grand $3 - what a contrast to my grocery experience in Copenhagen! We got ready again for a (hopefully) more promising night than the one before, by deciding to go on the pub-crawl my new friend from Krakow used to run. After meeting outside the famous astronomical clock in the Old Town Square, which wasn’t really anything to write home about (even though I just did), we followed our guide from Chicago, who graduated as an Art History major from Tufts University last year and moved to Europe to teach English, up a clock tower to the room we were in for the first hour and a half. When we got there, they asked us how we heard about the crawl, and we said that Dylan recommended us to it, not knowing that such name-dropping in Prague would get us a discount. Yeah, we’re that cool. At that point, I almost felt badly for my underlying dislike of him.

While up there for the first hour and half I got to know some pretty cool people. Two of whom were from Illinois and had just graduated from Northwestern. I talked to them for a while about one going off to med school and the other not really sure what he was going to do after not being accepted into any of the law schools he applied to. Brooke, unfortunately, did not have such luck with her new acquaintances, and therefore our night was cut a little short. We had a lot of time to talk about it and were more than relieved to get home and go to bed. Ultimately, sleep was all we truly needed.

For that reason, we started out kind of late the next day with a main goal of our afternoon being to see the great Prague Castle. This was not without a lunch full of familiar comfort food with a chocolate milkshake on the side in the Hard Rock Café first. After a solid pulled pork bbq sandwich and fries, we set off to hike of the very large and somewhat steep hill toward the palace grounds. There we went into St. Vitus Cathedral, home of St. Wenceslas’ tomb, as in Good King Wenceslas and patron saint of Czech Republic. Also, there was the tomb of St. John of Nepomuk., who I have no idea who that actually is, but his tomb was ridiculously ornate. We also walked through the Old Royal Palace, the Rosenbourg Palace and the Basilica of St. George. None of which were terribly exquisite and only being able to see a few different rooms in each one; the first being where the stately affairs took place, the second being the gentlewomen’s quarters and the third being a basilica. Honestly, there’s so much history and buildings all having to do with Catholicism… I just don’t understand it all. Maybe someday my brother will teach me, in a way where I would not lose attention after 5 seconds. 

Because it was just so ridiculously hot we headed back to our hostel for a break, yet again, and had a regrouping of ourselves… the heat just takes so much out of us, and has at times put a damper on our trip to a continent that doesn’t believe in air conditioning. Determined that it wouldn’t keep me from doing all I wanted to, I headed to a fortress I read about called Vysehrad, which is suppose to give you a great vantage of the city.

It was kind of a hike, partly the reason I ended up going by myself, but I stopped on my way for some sustenance (an apple and ice cream, obviously), and made my hike up the hill toward the fortress. I got to the top and I feel there’s no way to describe it but perfect. All I could think about was how I found MY spot in Prague. It was quiet and breezy and there were families on bikes, dogs running around in the park, couples drinking wine on blankets - you know everything wonderful and romantic for such a city. There is also a beautiful church with two towers called the SS Peter and Paul Church, which at 9 o’clock played three songs from its bell towers. This was only after I had time to walk around and find a place to sit on the hillside of the fortress to watch the sunset over the city and Prague Castle. There was a small area growing grapes, almost like a mini vineyard next for a restaurant that was only a ten second walk away from a beer garden. Life was good for me on top of the Vysehrad. I was so glad I went, and make it back to my hostel as it was getting dark.

Without my evening at Vysehrad, I don’t think I would have really liked Prague much. It’s a beautiful city architecturally, in fact it was almost an overload; but, it is, in my opinion, overrated. It was the first country where I felt like I always had to be looking back, knowing where people were at all times in my surroundings because, even though there were so many, I felt like a target as a tourist. We saw a lot of cool things, and met some fun people, but nothing was AMAZING… until Vysehrad. Which is why I feel like finding your spot when visiting someplace is so important. It can be kind of hard when you’re touring with other people, because sometimes I feel like finding your spot is a private thing. Someplace that you cherish simply because it makes you feel good; a place where you don’t have to be talking to anyone or walking with anyone to be having fun. My spot in Berlin was actually a bookstore on Friedrichstraße, in London, Notting Hill. Since we started our “Eurotrip,” as everyone calls it, I haven’t really had my spot. But Prague gave that to me, as well as many other learning experiences I couldn’t have anticipated.

Honestly, though, even when you’re in your hometown, you need a spot. It’s just harder to find when you’re traveling between countries with only two or three days in each city. But, I feel without this spot, you never actually feel comfortable, you never really picture yourself belonging. And ultimately, that’s all that we as humans ever really want. To have our place, and to belong.

The Power of 20 Minutes

Before you begin to read this, I ask that you check the clock to see what time you started reading this. I promise this isn’t anything stupid, but you’ll find out why in the end I ask you to do so.

Brooke and I left Wroclaw heading for Krakow after only one night there, anxiously wondering what kind of city it was going to be after making our first stop in Polski. We got to Krakow after a 5 hour train ride, and found ourselves a taxi, who we found out later charged us double the price of what it should cost to get from the train station to our hostel… still, only $10. Mama’s Hostel is located right in the city center and as we were driving up to it, we were more and more excited as we saw the hustle and bustle of Poland’s second largest city. We again were three floors up from the main level to find our clean, comfy and very fresh hostel.

We settled in for a bit before looking for someplace to eat and found ourselves at a restaurant serving both pizza and traditional Polish food. I, guiltily, had pizza not pierogies, but I smelled pizza before we sat down and couldn’t resist. After enjoying that, we really just walked around, gathering our bearing and enjoying a cooler evening with ice cream. Krakow is a beautiful city full of young people and lots of things going on. It finally felt like we were back in Europe again. Being exhausted from our trip, we headed in for the night. Our seemingly fun hostel, full of promising young people from everywhere, did not let us down, by any means, as we were up for most of the night listening to our neighbors come in and out after experiencing the great nightlife Krakow has to offer. Feeling fairly boring, we promised each other we would go out the next night.

After waking up from a not-so-restful rest, we made our way to the Wawel Castle located very close to the city center. Not really wanting to do everything the attraction had to offer, we felt no sense of disappointment when we found out the one thing we actually wanted to do was, of course, closed on Mondays. It was still enjoyable to walk around the grounds, as well as walk through the Wawel Cathedral, which boasts the tombs of four centuries worth of Polish royalty. Interestingly, Brooke and I were both wearing summer dresses, neither of which covered our shoulders, and instead of not permitting us to go in and visit (like Sacre Couer in Paris) they provide you with a shawl that you pay a deposit on. After this, in order to exit the grounds, we made our way out of the castle via the Dragon’s Cave. For as little as it was, it was pretty cool – climbing down a spiral staircase of the hill into a dank cave, coming out by the river where there is a statue of a dragon that bursts fire every few minutes.

The Dragon’s Cave led us (sort of) in the direction we wanted to go to visit Kazimierz, the old Jewish quarter, before the Jews were moved even farther out of the city into the ghetto. There we found many synagogues, some of which you could go in to. This being the first time I had ever stepped into an active synagogue, I appreciated the fact that Brooke is Jewish. I think the experienced was enhanced by the fact that she could explain to me what I was looking at… kind of bringing the whole scene home in my mind, rather than just a beautiful building where Jews once or still do worship. We also went into a museum located in one of the inactive synagogues, which was a little disappointing; there were photographs of Jews in the area in the 1920s. As interesting as the pictures were, it wasn’t as extensive as I’d hoped it would be.  After finishing the “Jewish Heritage Walk” we wanted to see if we could find remnants of the ghetto wall but weren’t terribly successful. We passed a very tall, older looking building that possibly could have been part of it, but nothing was marked. Krakow is also the location of Schindler’s Factory (as in the movie), which we also didn’t choose to visit, along with the Plaszow Concentration Camp. I think it says a lot that within the close vicinity of the city, there are pieces of just about every step/aspect of the relatively recent horrific history of the Jews – they were truly a huge part of the city until their annihilation in 1944.

Part of experiencing this Jewish culture was most definitely, for us, the need to experience Jewish food. Naturally this only means one thing: bagels. No, really. Brooke read in her book about this place called Bagel Mama, which we couldn’t find at first and happened upon it when we weren’t looking (it changed locations). The bagel was FANTASTIC and the cream cheese was even better. Nothing looked more natural than a Jew and her schmear. Just kidding, sort of. We really enjoyed our little break at Bagel Mama and met an American sitting there was well, who had just come to Europe after touring Southeast Asia. After a nice conversation, we bid him farewell and headed back to the city center to do a little shopping.

On our way we stopped at a few big Catholic churches, typically with nuns and priests bustling about. Honestly, I don’t even know how I’m going to label my pictures, they were all just so beautiful and there were so many. Never once, though, did we find a church that was not Catholic… As we walked right into the middle of the city center, we approached an arcade, Cloth Hall, full of shopping, particularly for tourists. One of Poland’s greatest goods is Amber, so we enjoyed looking at all the different kinds of jewelry, along with fur, leather and hand carved wooden goods. We bought our postcards and ate some dessert before heading back to relax before our friend, Morgan, who we met in Berlin, arrived to join us for some of this journey.

When she did come, we got ready and headed out for dinner and enjoyed a very tasty Mexican meal, then came back to get ready and go out. We tried some true Polish vodka (a must according to anything about traveling to Poland) and headed out to find a club to dance. After many failed attempts at locating one that was recommended to us by our hostel receptionist, we found one called Carpe Diem II and decide to try it. Located in the basement of a building, people were swarming us the second we got there, knowing we were Americans, and just wanting to talk. Two American guys found us wanting to play fussball, but someone had already taken the table before we got there, so we ended up talking to them for a bit. The one guy I ended up talking with was from New Jersey, but went to school at USC as a Russian major and moved to Prague right after, helping to run a pub crawl business… he then moved to Krakow to start one there. Our conversation started out light getting into how stupid USC is for losing their titles because of NCAA regulations and how stupid Philly is, to the importance of Russian vs. German language and history to the War in Afghanistan. By the time Morgan had finally rescued me from the “conversation” I was being yelled at by two different American guys about how it’s probably not true that the outcome is worth the cost. Let me tell you u how many other things I wished I could have been doing at that moment than be cornered by a drunk American who hates Corporate America so much he decided to move to undeveloped Europe in order to run pub crawls, in a club, in the middle of Krakow, Poland, because I don’t have all the answers to war.

By the time I had finally gotten away, Brooke had convinced our Metallica t-shirt wearing, long haired, grungy DJ that if he played Single Ladies by Beyonce, she would do the entire dance on the stage. While waiting, and after he finally played the song for her, we enjoyed dancing to some fun and kind of old American music. Once Linkin Park came on, we headed out, only to walk in the wrong direction, but finally arriving back at our hostel.

Our next morning was a little early as it was devoted to going to Auschwitz, which is about an hour and a half outside of Krakow. I have been to two other camps before, Dachau, not far from Munich, twice and Sachsenhausen, right outside Berlin, once. But, they were primarily prison camps, with gas chambers that were barely if ever used. Auschwitz, as most of you probably know, was an extermination camp where at least 1.1 million people were killed.

Our tour took us to two different places, Auschwitz I and Birkenau. Auschwitz I was more of a museum within the buildings where the prisoners once stayed, as it was the first installment in the area, and wasn’t really where the mass exterminations happened. There we saw over 80,000 shoes that were taken from the adults and children who were brought there, and two tons of hair that had been shaved from their heads. We also saw all the suitcases with the victims’ names on them and brushes, shoe polish – all the belongings they brought with them. These were all kept because the idea was that all these goods would be re-circulated into German society, and the hair was used for German textiles. We also walked around the basement of one of these buildings that was used for standing and starvation cells. As punishment, a prisoner would sometimes have to stand all night in one of these cells and then go back out to work in the morning for 11 hours. Starvation cells are pretty self-explanatory; the biggest story coming from a Catholic priest who chose to starve for another prisoner who was to be punished. He lasted 2 weeks in the cell before they killed him, since the starvation hadn’t.  It was all so sickening, and it hit me the hardest when someone was passing me in the hall and I brushed up against the wall. Then, I started thinking about all the people who were up against that wall less than a hundred years ago and what they were going through. I felt so dirty.

As we were walking around, we were basically walking around with a very large group of Israeli military officers. They were obviously there for a special trip, with permission to take pictures where most did not, from all of the different branches of the military. I found it kind of crazy because of what some of those guys are still dealing with today in their own country, which was suppose to be a safe place for them to settle. I also was just really intimidated by them, because who knows what all they’ve done and seen. I would NEVER want to mess with someone from the Israeli military… I was nervous enough just looking at them.

  One very intimate area we were in with these soldiers was one of the gas chambers at Auschwitz I, where 2,000 people were killed in twenty minutes. This happened more so at Birkenau than Auschwitz I, but the only one we could tour was there because the ones at Birkenau were burned down. Birkenau was more of what most would picture as a concentration camp. With huts that held more people than they should have all built over a vast space… It wasn’t at all like the stone cottage looking barracks at Auschwitz I. And, although most of the huts are no longer there, we were able to walk into a couple that were reconstructed and get a feel for what they were like. This is also where (if you have this picture in your mind) the Jews were brought by train directly into the camp. Their selection process took place immediately, and 75% were sent directly to the gas chambers. Others were kept to either work, or be used for medical experiments. I also learned that Auschwitz was the only camp that tattooed numbers on the Jews arms after they stopped actually keeping photographic records of them because there were too many coming in all at once.

  All I ever think about when I think about tattooed numbers is an old old French man who had numbers on his arm and his wife who I sat next to on an airplane flight a long time ago – I don’t even know from or to where my trip was that time. For the few survivors there still are today, and how many haven’t died simply of age later on, the chances of meeting someone like that are so slim. What stories he must have had… I can’t even imagine.

We finally got back to Krakow after a long, emotional, hot day and decided tonight would be the night for some pierogi action. It was better than any pierogi I had ever had before… What a good decision. We got some ice cream and walked around, really just taking in the city square on the beautiful night where you know it’s the top of an hour because you hear a bugle being played from the highest tower of St. Mary’s Church, reminiscing the warning calls from medieval times; which ends abruptly, representing the story of when a trumpeter was killed by an arrow during his warning by an approaching intruder.

After getting to relax and some late night pizza, we settled in and called it a night. And now, I’m on the train to our next destination.

Honestly, Polski was good to us. And by the way, we only called it Polski because Brooke wanted to - the proper term is Polska. It was way different than anything I’d ever experienced before and I’m glad we went. There was talk when we arrived in exciting Krakow if we would have enough time to see everything, rather than having two full days for the city, like we would have had had we not gone to Wroclaw. But we most definitely got to see everything that we wanted to.

When chatting with my brother, Matt, about Poland and its history, there was no question that no country has really been through more than Poland, having been taken over MANY times. But, what a testament to time that is… Poland is still standing now, gaining more and more development, enough for us to be able to visit. We walk around cathedrals, shop in stores, visit castles, eat bagels and do even minor things like shower all in about 20 minutes each. But, the most horrific things that anyone could ever imagine can also happen within twenty minutes, like the annihilation of 2,000 people. In seven and a half days, Brooke and I will have left Berlin, traveled to Wroclaw, traveled to Krakow, traveled to Prague and be on our way to Budapest. In a total of seven and a half days 1.1 million people were killed in one camp. Time is a powerful thing, and traveling allows you to appreciate it, as you go around trying to grasp where other people have come from, what they’ve experienced and how it affects their every day lives. Some people have it far easier than others, for sure.

  This part of Europe has had quite a history, and even though it sounds fantastic and fun (which it is), there’s a part of it that’s very taxing. Even when talking to the American at the club, and trying to explain to him, that assuring the freedom for the future of children in Afghanistan is worth fighting for for so many people, he just didn’t get it. We come from different places, have different histories, different languages, money, but we’re humans, with the same wants and needs. Morgan, Brooke and I had an interesting conversation after Auschwitz about who should feel guilty about the Holocaust, if anyone. My opinion? No one should bare the absolute guilt of it, because for many of us, it’s beyond our very existence. But the weight of how awful humans are capable of being should be on every single person’s shoulders. I believe that in remembering the past, we need to pay it forward to the people who still suffer today. So, traveling to a place like Polski was certainly fun, but as we saw the communist housing and run down factories, along with the devastation upon anything good and Jewish, so it’s also very humbling, as Poland still seeks to be designated as a developed country.

After writing about my couple days in Krakow for two hours, I understand this has become pretty lengthy. But, I’m sure it didn’t take you a whole 20 minutes to read, so I challenge you to spend the rest of the twenty minutes thinking about it all… What do you do in twenty minutes? My usual answer would probably be: facebook. In this short amount of time, we as humans allowed someone else to and are capable of killing 2,000 people. I sure hope it frightens you as much as it does me. Then, try thinking about all the good things humans are capable of doing within 20 minutes, for instance, which is all it took for me to distribute a couple hundred bags of rice to people in Haiti, each containing enough rice to feed a family for a week.

I hate to end this on such a harsh note. I loved Polski and everything we saw and experienced. It also makes me love America even more and makes me miss everyone I’m writing this for…  So stay tuned for what Prague can bring to the table!

The Wedding Crashers

The adventures of Brooke and Emily have begun, and our first stop was Wroclaw, Poland, or should I say, third world Europe (pronounced vrost-waf). I have never been to Poland before, since Germany is a safe haven for me on this continent, and I surely was in for a shock. Leaving from Berlin on bus, there was no question when we entered into Poland because the roads immediately turned from great to worse, as our bus bumped up and down for the rest of the ride. When we finally got to Wroclaw, we had ridden on a bus for almost 5 hours with a few questionable stops…

I’m almost positive, unless you’ve been in Poland before, that you’ve never heard of Wroclaw, but don’t feel badly, neither had I until Brooke showed me an article her dad gave her about the city from the New York Times. It raved of beautiful buildings in a new up and coming cultural, university centered city not too far from Berlin. (It was actually German territory at one point, going by the name Breslau). Listening to Brooke swear by the New York Times, I said ok when she said let’s go and for the first twenty minutes of our time in the city, all I could think about was how stupid I was for my complacency. Just like they say never judge a book by its cover, I’ll say, never judge a city by its bus station.

We got off the bus, with only a map in my Lonely Planet book, which was not terribly descript. Immediately we searched for aid from various people around the station, including those at information desks, but the only person who seemed to want to talk to us was a small boy begging to give him money for a loaf of bread. All Brooke could really say was, “we’re not in Kansas, anymore.” What a shock that no one spoke English, no one would smile at us, and when we were looking for help we were generally just snubbed. When we finally found a taxi stand, more than willing to pay whatever we needed (though, we knew it wouldn’t be much) to get to our hostel which we knew couldn’t have been that far, the driver assured us that it was 100 meters away and pointed us in the right direction, still not in English, but in German.

Following his instructions and what we had from the hostel, we found our way there in no time, only to find a HUGE door with a buzzing system. Once buzzed in by our hostel, we walked into a big, big foyer that was a little sketchy, only to walk up an even more sketchy two flights of stairs. But, when we got into Babel Hostel, we were pleasantly surprised. It was clean, safe and pretty homey, to be honest. Definitely one of the better hostels I’ve stayed in, and we were able to check in when we got there, which was also a blessing. Realizing how hungry we were and that the wireless was not compatible with our Macs because apparently no one in Poland has them, we set out for dinner.

On our way there, we were really just laughing about how questionable our visit to this city was going to be. With trams that look like they will just collapse into pieces if it stops too fast, and dank gray cement apartments buildings with parts crumbling off, we were just in awe. After a not so long walk we found ourselves in what was more like what we had signed up for… A BEAUTIFUL old town square called Rynek, with pedestrians, old gothic style buildings, shops and restaurants. Also, right there was an outdoor viewing for the World Cup, not unlike some in Germany, and a mini-soccer arena where it looked as if beer leagues were playing each other, posing as the different countries in the WM.  We decided on a Spanish restaurant, hoping the menu might have been more navigable, but were totally wrong, yet settled on some pretty good and filling food. But, as we were finishing a man came up, kind of behind me and started talking to us. From the angle I was sitting, and the state of his clothes I had initially thought he was like a bus boy for the restaurant and was telling us eat everything on our plates. I was SADLY mistaken, as he actually was wanting to eat whatever was left of our food. Good, Mueller, mistaking a homeless Polish beggar for a Spanish restaurant bus boy; he even tried begging in German to us, which lasted almost 5 minutes. Finally, a VERY kind couple sitting a table from us, shooed him away, but why didn’t our waitress do that for us?! The couple told us, that it’s pretty common, and after reading about Poland in my Lonely Planet book, it made more sense they’d approach us… 98% of the Polish population is ethnically Polish, and apparently it’s pretty easy to tell that we were not, and are automatically targets.

We, however, recovered from a semi-traumatic experience and went on our merry way to walk around, what Brooke affectionately calls, Polski. Primarily, the goal was to see the university and churches, as there are so many, churches not universities, that is. Little did we know that Saturday July 10, 2010 was a very popular day for Poles to get married. With a few stops in between, we managed to enter or pass by at least a half dozen GORGEOUS cathedral style churches (random fact: 80% of Poles are devout Catholics, and the line between church and state within the country is practically invisible), three of which had weddings going on that day. After we sat in on our third wedding, we walked around enough to find the location of the reception as well! We decidedly chose not to also crash the reception, considering we were certainly not dressed for the occasion, and we were sweating like creeps. Literally, we’re talking mid-90s with exactly zero clouds in the sky.

This is exactly why our three stops in between walking around were for ice cream, wading in the city moat, and a nice cold drink. The first and last are fairly self-explanatory, but I’ll elaborate on the second a little. Dating back to the old, old days of Wroclaw, the city was surrounded by a moat, for protection. It is mostly still there, though I believe it’s dried up in a few places, and Brooke and I found a little mini-beach among a park. We probably spent almost a half hour just wading in the nice cool and relatively clean water, which was exactly what we needed among all the heat.

On our way back to our hostel for the evening, we made a stop in a shopping center, where we wanted to buy a couple groceries for our travels the next day. We literally waited in the check out line for about 25 minutes and when we got to the front, the lady told us she couldn’t check out the fruit we wanted because you are suppose to weigh it in the fruit area. Oh. One of those things that you just have to learn as you go, I guess. But all was not lost because we still managed to get gum and cheerios… clearly staples in any good American’s diet. Getting back to the hostel, we just crashed, too hot and tired to do just about anything. But, made a game plan for the next day to make sure we were going to see what we wanted.

First we started off by heading to the train station where we bought our tickets to take a train from Wroclaw to Krakow, which is where I am right now. Thanks to the receptionist at our hostel, we were able to easily get our ticket, because she wrote down everything for us to just hand to the person at the counter. Great. The only creepy thing about that whole experience was the old man standing 5 inches behind me waiting in line. Apparently Poles have a very different idea of personal space, and we were really freaked out by how close he was standing… Something you never really think about in America, that is, how much space we like for our own. Then, we walked over to the old Jewish quarter (though, no more) looking for a synagogue, which we never found; we did find a couple other Jewish institutions. Then, we went to St. Mary Magdalene’s Church to climb one of the two towers with a bridge connecting them, to gain a grand scope of the city. It was most definitely a gorgeous site. After this, we grabbed an ice coffee and went toward a famously large indoor 360-degree mural, but got there too late for the tour that we could have and wanted to take. Oh, well.

This tardiness was partially due to our stopping to bond with a couple gnomes (or dwarves) that are placed throughout the city. The reason I say it could be either, is because we have read in a couple different places that there are 70 tiny gnomes and 150 tiny dwarf statuettes throughout the city. We hadn’t seen any our first day, but found a couple the next, and naturally needed pictures with them. Once I have some better access to the internet, I’ll figure out which they were…

And now, we’re sitting on our train to Krakow lasting a little over 5 hours. We are mostly comfortable sitting in a first class car, which cost a whooping $15. Yes, that’s right, $15. Now, when I say first class, I am not talking about fancy swivel chairs with constant customer service, I’m talking about, by our standards, just a little below our second class. But, anyways, Poland is CHEAP, which is a nice break. For instance, as we were trying to figure out where to go for dinner yesterday, we asked the opinion of the receptionist and he told us where the students eat, called the milk bar; it’s basically cafeteria style, from the Soviet era. But, then he said the most expensive meals were in the center where we did end up eating, and when we asked how much expensive was, he said around 10 Euros. Let me be clear about something, 10 Euro is NOT expensive for a meal here in Europe when you include drinks. Even then, I think mine was under $10. Needless to say, even though it’s gaining strength, the Polish economy has a long way to go before the EU allows them to adopt the Euro.

All in all, I’m really glad we went to Wroclaw. It’s a little different than what I feel Krakow is going to be like, for a lot of different reasons. This city is certainly someplace people live more than visit.  My first impression of Poland was not the greatest, but I’m starting to realize that that’s how I start in most cities: apprehensive. Once we got more into the heart of it, and gained familiarity, I was truly enjoying myself. This does not go without saying that there definitely seemed to be more run down places than not, especially after being able to get up high and see the scope of the area more. And we’ve certainly had encounters with strangers who try talking to us, or get money or food from us. Only people our age seem to be able to speak English, which is probably what makes me the most uncomfortable… I’m not used to not being able to pick up anything from the local language, which is what I use to try and break barriers. And I feel, with the people here, we certainly need SOMETHING to help break the barrier. Ultimately, I don’t feel like we just crashed weddings for our visit, but that we kind of crashed the city, not encountering any other Americans. What an experience to see a Pittsburgh kind of city rather than a Philadelphia kind of city. 

Anyways, more to come from Polski… we’re here for three more days! 

The Three Essentials to Everyday German Life

Bikes: 

Germans ride their bikes, a lot. In fact, 12% of the people use a bicycle in Berlin as their only transportation. There are specific bike lanes almost everywhere you go. I have now gotten into the habit of not just looking before I cross the street, but before I cross the bike lane in order to get to the crosswalk to cross the street. Should you even dare to stand or walk on the bike path, the Germans will ring their annoying little bell that essentially means, "get the hell out of the way, NOW!"  If you remain in their way, most Germans would  have to think twice about which would be more ethical: running over you or re-routing their path. Germans also love their bikes so much, many trains and busses have a specific holding place (which then takes up seat space, might I add) for your bike when you want to take it to another part of town to ride around there. 

There are obviously (because it's Germany, duh) many rules to bike riding that everyone must abide by. So much so, when I lived here in 2006, my house mother wouldn't allow me to ride a bike for the first couple weeks because she didn't trust that I knew how to signal when I wanted to turn onto another street. When she finally gave me a bike to ride, the chain came off on my first adventure, causing an accident (only with myself), which included a nice gash in my leg. I'm not really sure she trusted me on one after that, because I couldn't ever just go get a bike out of the shed, she had to be the one to get it, so she knew when I was actually using one. Needless to say, I have not attempted any sort of bicycle anything while here in Berlin, including a bike tour of the city, or the Beerbike you can take with a group of people and a bar tender - you paddle around the city center drinking beer for an hour or two. Perhaps I'm un-German that way.

Flowers:

Germans love their flowers. There are flower stands everywhere selling all sorts of arrangements, for dare I say, cheap prices. When you get on the trains or busses or are simply just walking around you are guaranteed to pass someone carrying flowers. Why? In Germany, you don't go to someone's home without flowers in hand. Americans bring wine, or sometimes food, but in the good old fatherland you bring flowers. Not much more to add to that other than it MUST be in odd numbers - apparently even numbered bouquets just don't look full enough.

Dogs:

There are so many things I could say about dogs, but an excerpt from a reading we had for class does it all the justice in the world. Therefore I'm just going to quote what it says:

"The Germans are fond of their pets, which come in two forms  - Alsatians, and preposterously small poodles wearing little woolly jackets and ribbons in their hair. The point of these creatures is to be Obedient and Loyal (Alsatians) or to eat expensive chocolates and pooh everywhere (poohdles). Saying anything rude (or even mildly critical) to a German about his dog is more than your life is worth. All dogs are beautiful, and the world is their litter tray.

Those Germans who do not own a dog are strange (and could even be eccentric). Those who own a cat are certainly Communists and may be cut dead in the street. If the man next door acquires a budgerigar or hamster, any self-respecting German will think about moving house (and perhaps going to another town all together)." 

- "Xenophobe's Guide to Germans" by Stefan Zeidenitz and Ben Barkow

Honestly, it's true. German dogs go EVERYWHERE (the train, bus, shopping malls, etc.), and probably the most popular breed that I've seen here is the Dachshund; but, I think I've seen just as much a variety of breeds here as I would at home. They are THE most well behaved dogs you will ever see. Constantly 100% in tune with their owner, their voice and their command. Then I think of Lucy - yeah, right. The only complaint most people have is that owners do not pick up after their dogs poo, which are called land mines. Not to be confused with the myth of land mines in No Man's Land during the divide, which only actually existed between the borders of East and West Germany, not Berlin. Regardless, it's gross. Other than that minor downfall to the German order, dogs clearly only add to society here, and are far more accepted than in America.

And that, friends, is just a tid bit of what all you would need to know in order to get along in German society today. Sure there are lots of things that make this country go round, but these three things here, are all that you truly need.

Freedom

My July 4th was not spent the way I would most likely describe as ideal for such a fantastic holiday, no, there was nothing terribly American about my day at all. But, I did, ironically, have quite the conversation about freedom...

About a week ago, I was on the S-Bahn and picked up a cell phone that a lady sitting across from me forgot when she got off. Having a recent casualty to the D.C. metro, I did what I had hoped someone else would have done for me; not to mention, people have done in the past. My cell phone has been found on curbs, in intersections, locker rooms, and so on, they called one of my parents in my contacts and my phone was recovered. After trying to text from her phone to the last person she called and failing miserably (I think her friend received an attempt or two), she just called me and we went from there. Ulrike was certain that she MUST repay me, so I left my email address with her phone at an information desk in my favorite book store, for us to be able to connect. I agreed to coffee this past Sunday with her in the outskirts of the old Jewish area of Berlin, and I was actually pretty excited for it. My high expectations were certainly not let down. 

Ulrike is a 43 year old math and physics teacher at the private American based high school called the John F. Kennedy School. She's even lived in Washington D.C. between 2000 and 2004 teaching at the private German high school there. She grew up in a small Eastern German town not far out of Potsdam and moved to Berlin in 1989. She expressed her love for America and how much she enjoyed living there. We talked primarily in English but I tried to insert German when I could, and she obliged with welcomed corrections. We talked about politics, religion, history, and social problems within Germany, America and the rest of the world. But, we just kept coming back to the idea of freedom.

Ulrike told me her parents died right after the Wende (a term used for the transition in Germany right after reunification) and only saw Germany in the eyes of WWII and divided - living in the GDR. They never got to travel, or really be free. She said her mother always dreamed of being able to travel to Paris, but never got to. And Ulrike said something like being able to travel has never made her feel more free. We talked about how some Eastern Germans don't even know what to do with themselves because even though they had nothing in the East, they had a job, and now, some of them don't even have that in a unified Germany - this being an issue we have learned a lot about in my class... Some would prefer that the division still exist! But, not Ulrike. Her concern now is for the freedom for other groups of people in our world today. 

She carries, with her, a great guilt for what happened to the Jews in WWII, and believes in the support the United States provides to Israel. So much so, that she doesn't understand why the Germans, themselves, do not do more. And, having worked in a school in the lower income areas in Berlin before her time in the US, she feels for the Turkish girls she taught who would stay at school as long as they could to avoid having to go home and do house work. It upsets her that these girls are expected to focus on working for the family business or in the house instead of pursuing things like education, which is what they really want to do. We talked about the difference in religions, extremists, and how this can taint the idea of any group of people and how good or bad they may be...

Nothing amazed Ulrike more than the idea of a black man rising to be president in our country. Interestingly, she does not know much about President Obama and his politics, merely what he "stands" for and that he is simply a change from President Bush. Ironically, there was no doubt in her mind that she agrees with the good things that are being done in Iraq or Afghanistan.  She even said that she became a little more defensive of the Americans when she returned to Germany with all the regular bashing of the government and president. Honestly, none of these mentalities surprised me, except for one: her opinion of Chancellor Angela Merkel. 

I immediately asked her, after she said how she was amazed that America would elect a black man, if she didn't feel the same way toward Angela Merkel. She is not only the first woman to be chancellor in Germany, but is also an Eastern German. Ulrike replied with one big negatory, that Chancellor Merkel is too much a power hungry, forward, rough and tough kind of female and politician. Oh. To her, she's too conservative and laissez-faire, "like Bush," and is on her way down. Interesting. I don't know if I'll ever understand how Germans justify the differences between the different kind of politicians, and what, in their opinion, makes them great or not. 

Regardless, my new friend and I agreed that the world would be way better if its problems could merely be solved over coffee on a Sunday morning in the middle of Berlin.  I was so glad to spend the morning talking with someone about nothing other than the idea of freedom on my independence day. There was no doubt to her that America has done great things for her country, and that what we stand for is a wonderful thing. Tears were brought to her eyes among the euphoric madness of Berlin in 1989 when she finally felt she could breathe again and was free. 

After I left Ulrike, with a gift in hand and a hug as she went on her way to explore Ukraine with a friend the next day, I was determined to do some things in the city that I wanted to do before I leave this upcoming weekend. I spent a lot of time walking, stopping at Checkpoint Charlie, the Topography of Terror Museum and then to the New Synagogue. All three just so relevant to the hope and idea of freedom. Checkpoint Charlie, an American station that filtered people coming in and out of the sector during a divided Berlin. The Topography of Terror Museum, positioned over the old Gestapo headquarters, had great new exhibits on the timeline and persecution of the Nazi party. There was also a fantastic exhibit of photographs taken by Jews who lived in the ghetto and were commissioned by the government in order to promote the "good things" about ghettos. The pictures were of the children going to school, the sick being cared for and the other Jews working - something the head of the ghetto used as a deterrent for the deportation of its members to extermination camps. And lastly, the New Synagogue, which was only partially restored. The museum was small because they chose not to rebuild it the way it was before the war and communist regime. But, it allowed me to learn more about the practices of the Jewish religion and prevalence of the Jewish community in Berlin pre-WWII. Two of these places I had visited before, but the third I had not. I was more than happy to repeat, because as I get older I appreciate things for different reasons. 

Freedom means different things to different people. To some it's being able to practice a religion, move from country to country, being able to buy anything you want with the money you work hard for, or simply being able to have a right to vote for your new and up and coming president. Either way, people are still people with needs... There was no doubt to Ulrike, no matter who is in office or what not, that America stands for great ideals that most people are envious of. If I couldn't have been home eating hot dogs and pretzel salad while watching fireworks, I don't know that I would have wanted anything else out of the holiday. 

"Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and success of liberty" - JFK 

Die Ordnung

One day I was on the S-Bahn on my way to class with a few people who I live with and was eating a banana for breakfast. Sadly, the top of my banana got squished brown, so I was only really willing to eat the bottom half. Being stuck with the top half of my banana awkwardly wrapped in its peels I didn't have time before the doors shut to throw it out. A friend told me to just drop it in between the door of the train and the platform when all of a sudden a German woman looks up and immediately says in clear English, "Don't do it!" Like a 6 year old child I responded with assurance I wasn't really planning on it, as she was telling me it would make the train slip on its tracks. Ok, lady. I sat down as the train was leaving and told my friend I'll probably just throw it out the window once we get to a grassy area. Well, that was just NOT okay with my new German friend, and she pulled her pastry out of the bag from the bakery and gave it to me to put my banana in. I literally could not wait more than 2 seconds after I got off at our stop to burst out laughing. What a great start to my day... 

The German "order" is something that I feel can be fairly notorious among other people in the world. Honestly, I have found nothing to disapprove such a stereotype. The Germans have an idea as to how things should be: don't cross the street unless the little Ampleman is green, don't be too loud on the subways and most definitely do NOT put paper in the waste basket for bottles, or the wrong kind of wrapper in the basket for the paper, if you're early, you're on time, if you're on time your late, demonstrating in the middle city is only acceptable if there are police officers accompanying you the whole time, etc. And most definitely do not even THINK about smiling at someone unless you actually know them. 

Germans are a funny people. They can seemingly be pretty hard to read, hard to approach, but are definitely easy to love, particularly the older generations. But, for them, it works. So, I just thought I'd share a little anecdote to feed all the hunger of what the Germans may be like... The Answer? Exactly like what you'd imagine. 

With a blue shoe on my left, and a black on my right...

Last week I went to Copenhagen for a whooping day and a half. This trip was sparked somewhat last minute because a) I felt like I wasn't traveling enough away from Berlin and b) it was inexpensive to get there. Little did I know what little adventure I was getting myself into... 

On Tuesday night I left my dorm on a bus at 12:30 to catch my 6:30 flight. Why you ask? Well, I'll tell you with two simple words: public transportation. The bus that comes to my area shuts down between 12:30 and 4:30 am and the train I typically take shuts down between 2 and 4 am. Perfect when I needed to be at the airport on the other side of the city by 4:30. Anyways, I took a bus to the train, and then the train to a night bus and finally arrived at Schönefeld Airport by 2:30. When I hopped on the night bus, I propped my feet up to sleep for the hour ride, and realized I had one blue flip flop on, and one black one. Awesome. But, for the first time, I was that person who you pass on the bench at the airport, totally wiped out. Thankfully I had my pillow, my faithful companion, and could get almost 2 hours of sleep on a bench right by the EasyJet check in desk. The discount airline was also a new experience for me - having to walk across the tarmac to get on a plane where I did not have an assigned seat with no boarding preferences. But, it was easy and the flight went smoothly. I got to the airport in Copenhagen decidedly exhausted and on a mission to get a map they pass out for free of the city, get some cash in the local Danish Kroener and somehow navigate their pronounced prestigious public transportation system. Some even argue it's better than London's... I can't really say either way because I only used it once. But I was only able to figure it out with a very friendly transportation employee who got me the right ticket. I arrived at my hostel very easily by 9:30 am. Motivating myself to actually go into the city was the next step.

I first stopped at a 7 Eleven which are EVERYWHERE in Copenhagen, and bought myself a banana, Diet Coke, and a snack pack of cashews for a whopping $10. Welcome to Scandinavia! Feeling better, though, after eating (since I hadn't for over 12 hours) I went on to wander to the middle of the city. Honestly, there's so much to see there I wasn't sure where to begin. I'm sure most will appreciate that one of the first things I managed to find was the major pedestrian shopping street, by accident, of course. I also went into the town hall without going through any security. And, eventually landing myself at the Amalienborg Palace where the changing of the guard would take place around noon. 

I sat and observed the guards who had patrolling duties based off their little posts, only moving for the ceremonial steps at every 15 minute chime from the clock in the square. There are actually four palaces in this immediate vicinity, each with a guard. These guards are around 20 years old, and are on their last leg of their one year duty. Apparently the two or so months spent as the guard are highly dreaded, and I don't blame them. Their uniforms were incredible, but they most definitely lacked the discipline to the easily comparable to the guards in London. They are also permitted to talk, as to make sure all visitors remain beyond 5 meters of the walls of each palace. The actual ceremony took a half hour and afterwards, as I was walking back, I passed the barracks for these guys and two of them being reprimanded outside by the sergeant who I saw swarming during the entire ceremony. 

I got back to my hostel to finally check in a re-group and was terribly surprised when I walked into my room to find that the bed I was assigned was literally 9 feet off the ground. I could not reach the top of my bed from the ground. There were 9 people in my room and it was super small. And, on top of that, the hostel charged me extra for needing sheets. So, by the time I got settled a bit and complained enough about my hostel situation, I went back out to the city with the determination to go on a boat tour. This decision was by far the best I made throughout this entire extravaganza. 

I learned and saw so much about this country and the city in the hour an a half, more than I could have ever hoped for... this is all thanks to the man made canals throughout the entire city which were produced by prisoners of war at the time. It's also worth noting that the water in Copenhagen is RIDICULOUSLY clean. As in, it used to be terribly dirty and then they spent 30 years scraping all the bacteria out of the canals, as in, people can swim in select places of it now, as well. In fact, the water used to be so dirty, that in medieval times they realized it would be cheaper to produce beer than to clean the water for its people and more importantly and specifically the sailors. This led to a daily ration for 16 liters of beer per sailor for he and his family. Enough said.  

The Danes can boast some of the longest standing civilized history in the world. They came through just about every stage of mankind possible and are 100% in tact on the other end. Not to mention they have the oldest royal family in the world. Copenhagen will do whatever possible in order to preserve the medieval facade of its buildings, the flag (really a pendant, like Ohio - holler to MC and all his pendant flag pride) is possibly the oldest flag in world history and the navy in Denmark was, all of which still seem to be a great pride of the people. In order to do something, like preserve the old look to their city, they put copper in the material when building new buildings, so eventually over time it'll take the same look as the buildings that have been there for hundreds of years. 

Another side note about Copenhagens is their love of their bikes. Everyone rides their bikes everywhere. So, if there's a way to do it on bike rather than car, they'll do it - pushing or pulling children or dogs or food; bicycling with one hand or no hands, in tandem or solo, in the morning, late at night, to work in suits, or to play in bathing suits. You name it, they do it. The city even has free bikes for tourists located around the city that you can take to tour around. The only rack that I found had one bike left with a broken chain, though, so I didn't get to be a part of this luxury... Regardless, I have never seen so many people who ride bikes, not even Japan. 

After my boat tour, I wandered around a little more, looking for a pub recommended by my Lonely Planet book. I found it, realizing I needed more cash, and had quite the time finding an ATM to get more. Once I did, I was really excited to get a bite to eat in this place described as a place that truly "distils the essence of everything great about Nyhavn's salty sea-dog atmosphere, with nightly live folk music." Perfect. Only, when I got there it was not so perfect as I was one of three people eating in this pub. My faith in Lonely Planet, however, is not gone, as this is the first time I've ever found them to be kind of wrong. I'm sure this place can be exciting... just maybe on the weekends? I got a bacon cheeseburger with fries, which I wish I would have gotten a picture of, because it was most definitely not what you were thinking. The burger was automatically cooked rare and I'm not really sure what kind of cheese was on it, all with some lettuce, I think, and a couple crazy sauces I'd never tried before all between thick dark(er) bread. It was fantastic, for sure, and the bar tender and I got to talk for a while which was really nice. 

My new friend doesn't even live in the city, probably because he can't afford it, and couldn't even tell me the really great places to go out at night in Copenhagen because he's always working at the pub until 2 am. He was REALLY interested in why a young American would come to Copenhagen all by herself, and wanted to know what life was like as a student in the US. He told me that I should try and visit the other Nordic countries, but that Denmark is the best, so I made the right choice. I appreciated our conversation, during which, he also said, that tonight was the night of the week when he gets his tips, so he would maybe stay in the city a little while longer and grab a drink himself. I made sure to tip him better than what is typical in Europe, and with a great thanks from him, I found my way back to my hostel. 

The next day, I woke up a little later than I wanted to, so I felt REALLY rushed to do everything I wanted to... After getting my breakfast at the hostel, I made my way to the shopping street once again to find the standard bell for my mom, and magnet for my grandma. Then went on my merry way to the Nationalmuseet (National Museum) to take an hour long free English tour of the exhibit on the beginning of Denmark, and well, civilization. It was VERY cool, with lots of artifacts from the bronze, iron and golden ages. Our tour guide, I think, was being observed by her boss, which was also an interesting dynamic, as she tried to chorale us around, pay attention and even laugh at her not so funny jokes. The museum is HUGE with tons of exhibits from all different time periods, but I could have spent an entire day just in there. But, instead I crossed the river to climb the Rundetarn (round tower) of the Trinitatiskirke (Trinity Church) to see the entire city. It was amazing! And part of the climb was around the golden staircase on the outside of the tower. What a beautiful city! 

Not far from the Trinitatiskirke was a neighborhood that everyone says you should visit while in Copenhagen: Christiania. Described to me by the Danes as the youngest child that no one wants to talk about, this is an alternative community based from a group in the 1970s of military squatters who took over some run down military barracks. You're not allowed to take pictures within the compound of this area where its residents do not pay taxes and live by their own education system. The majority of people I picked up as residents were young adults and people who probably were there in the beginning of its foundations and have never left. The housing is run down and people were selling things on the street I was afraid to ask as to what it actually was, knowing the amount of soft drug trade here. There were lots of little artsy shops and cafes to walk around and an outdoor market, too. I had planned on spending an hour here, as the books rave that it's a must see, but I only lasted 15 minutes. I felt terribly uncomfortable amongst these people. Maybe it wasn't a fair evaluation of them in the small time that I was around, but it was just NOT someplace I wanted to be roaming about all by myself. 

After my rude awakening back into the reality of the REAL Denmark, I wanted to see one last thing before I left, the Marmokirken or Frederikskirken, the royal church. The dome of the church is the 5th largest in the world. It was beautiful, yet simple at the same time with one organ for decoration and one for actual use. I stayed for a little, wanting to gather myself, get out of the heat, and just enjoy someplace so quiet and beautiful before I needed to head back and get on my crazy way to Berlin.

My bus ride was suppose to last seven and a half hours back to Berlin, but ended up lasting closer to nine. It was actually pretty nice, because I was the only one on the bus who didn't have anyone sitting next to me, and therefore could sleep in a more sprawled position. My nap was interrupted by our ferry ride which lasted almost two hours. It was beautiful, though, to see the Baltic Sea, and I actually befriended a couple Americans from Charleston, S.C., and played cards with them for part of our ride. When we got back to Berlin, I helped them on their way to their hostel and finally got home myself at about 2 a.m.

Copenhagen was a crazy kind of trip - an experience like none other. When I first arrived there, I didn't get it. I was truly almost mad that I made the trip, but by the end, I became a changed woman. I loved it there among all the beautiful people and their bikes and water and boats. They are quirky people, not really afraid to put themselves out there, especially when it comes to street performing; I'm pretty sure I even saw a Viking leaving Burger King. They love to talk, smile, laugh, and their English is better than mine! As a first time to Northern Europe, it was a great experience, and I definitely want more. I underestimated this expensive city, but now there's a special place for it in my heart. Realizing, with the help of Google Maps, I walked probably close to 15 miles while I was there, I was glad for my second pair of shoes that I packed. But, with a blue shoe on my left, and black on my right, I left this quirky city, as quirky as I myself could be, very pleased with how my little trip to Copenhagen turned out.