Monday, May 12, 2008

Fewer than 76 trombones, but ...

Everyone loves a parade. Especially Berliners.

Sunday we went to the annual Carnival of the Cultures parade, a multicultural event featuring 100 or so floats inching down the street over a sevenish-hour span. Gives the Germans more time to drink beer (this they readily admit). I had a Berliner (I mean the beer). OK, but it was no Midori.

The parade was entertaining, as many African and Pacific communities in Berlin put together floats that included music, dancing and performing. Then there were the somewhat local cities (one native was explaining to me that one float was from a not-so-nice city ... but it -- featuring an astronaut/alien rave of sorts with a few white guys rapping -- might have been my favorite just for the sheer irreverence).

Then came some friendly Germany-US debating. After some good political and cultural discussions, I proclaimed that at least Bill Clinton tried to get Obama. Bush didn't. They looked confused, especially considering how passionate I seemed.

"I said 'Obama,' didn't I?," I laughed. "I meant Osama!"

They cracked up.

Oye. Germans 1, Americans 0.

Today brought me out to Checkpoint Charlie -- or at least a realistic recreation of ... except now there are more tourists. The checkpoint and wall history fascinates me; I try to imagine what it would have been like if, say, folks from Storrs/Mansfield weren't allowed to go to Willimantic or Ashford.

Actually, we wouldn't have cared. (yeah, that was too easy.)

FUN FACT: Germans truly are efficient. For instance, some girl on the train I'm on right now just yelped, fell out of her seat and broke her cell phone all in the span of less than a second. That's Borg-like efficiency. Resistance is futile.

After Checkpoint Charlie I wandered over to the Topography of Terrors. It's a bit of an outdoor museum at the site of the old government and SS headquarters. The remains there mostly are old pieces of basement or old rooms and walls, but there also are many signs, pictures and audio presentations detailing the history of this place.

Most notably, it was where many/most of the nazi strategies were concocted by Hitler, Himmler and Co., including the relocation and extermination of Jews.

Reading these recounts was simultaneously fascinating and sickening. Checkpoint Charlie has little bit of a fun factor. This place clearly does not. Terror is an appropriate, if understated, choice of name.

Next to these grounds stands a relatively long and intact portion of the wall. It's mostly barricaded off to keep it intact, but I may have to drop by tomorrow with a chisel.

On a more fun note, about to hit the zoo. There's a polar bear here that has been all the rage, though some baby bears down near Munich apparently has been stealing Knut's thunder. But Knut was here first, and I'm not going all the way to Munich to see a bear. San Diego will suffice ...

Sunday, May 11, 2008

100 percent certifiably fresco- and calorie-free

Religion, oppression, circumcision, soccer, inebriation, cattle and Coke. Typical day.

Began Saturday with a solo trip to the Jewish museum, including a Daniel Libeskind-designed structure. It has three axes: The axis of continuity, the axis of exile and the axis of the holocaust, all telling different stories of Jews' experiences in Europe. The Garden of Exile, the Holocaust tower and, later, the fallen leaves, were the most powerful. The tower was almost haunting, while the garden, much like the memorial the day before, is very disorienting. Libeskind's choices sometimes are effective, sometimes seem a little underdeveloped. But still a compelling experience.

As for the "normal" museum (right down the street from Checkpoint Charlie), which traces 1,000 years of Jewish settlements in Germany (and Europe), one could spend hours upon hours there. Much of the information was surface-level, but there was so much of it and many interactive and novel displays kept the experience fresh. Though I respectfully disagree with their computer's suggested spelling of my name in Hebrew!

FUN FACT: There is no "J" sound in Hebrew. But "CH" is prominent ...

Being reminded of all the persecution -- even far before the holocaust -- is sobering. And the holocaust stories themselves, told with individual/family perspectives rather than broad strokes -- were sad and still unreal.

After a train adventure which included (unsuccessfully) trying to get my credit card back (the people at the station had no idea what I was talking about ... knowing a little German -- maybe around 4-foot-7 -- would've helped), I ventured over to Olympic Stadium, where Kathryn and I took in the Hertha BSC Berlin-Nurnberg match. (Wolfgang Sidka once played for Hertha). It was the final home match of the season for Hertha, which had little on the line other than possibly jumping to mid-pack in the Bundesliga. But Nurnberg is in danger of relegation, so they needed a point here.

The atmosphere was awesome. Fans (many presumably heavily inebriated) going nuts with their chants the entire time, led by one guy with a mic and sound system. It was 0-0 at the half, but Hertha scored off a turnover relatively late in the second half (though they blew a 3-on-1 counterattack that would have sealed it -- weak!) and barely held on as Nurnberg sent everyone up late and had a few good scoring chances. Nurnberg still has a shot next weekend to avoid relegation, but they clearly were dejected after losing this one.

"We clearly are dejected after losing this one," some coach or player may have said. In German.

The refs didn't even call it too tight despite the normal amount of flopping. And there were a couple of questionable calls, but not enough to think that this match was fixed. Though this is the Bundesliga ...

As for Hertha, the players walked around the stadium and then in front of the wild chanting section and hung out for 15-20 minutes, joining in the chants, jumping up and down, etc. -- probably because it was the final home match. It was wild. And a blast.

The stupid Cameron Crazies got nothing on these guys. The chants and jumping continued on the train, though many of the fans realized they should save the more wild chants for when the train isn't moving.

FUN FACT: A week or two ago a German train was derailed after colliding with a flock of sheep. No passengers were seriously hurt, but 20 sheep were killed.

If only the train had run over Flock of Seagulls instead ...

FUN QUOTE: "No sheep willingly walks through a tunnel," a representative for sheep farmers told Reuters on Monday. (Not making this one up.)

Days later, a German train plowed into a herd of cattle.

WTF!!

Anyway ... did I forget to mention the Coke Zero girls at the match? Berlin is rolling out all the stops.

Part of the culture shock... English and German are closer relatives, but I was able to understand far more Italian than German. Maybe my HS Spanish (close relative of Italian) is paying off ...

The craziest thing? It's not Bert and Ernie here. It's Ernie and Bert.

That's right, Bert. You might have the more German-sounding name, but Die Ernsters (that's what Ernie supporters are called here ... so I've just decided) have a more organized grassroots and lobbying effort.

The big campaign difference? Bert is for trains, Ernie is for cattle and sheep. Which clearly gives Bert an advantage, unless Ernie can, um, derail Bert's campaign.

Oh my... need to stop typing now.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Wallingford, Meriden, Berlin, Hartford, Windsor, Windsor Locks, Springfield

Adios Italy, hola Germany.

It’s a bit disorienting to be in a completely different culture after having spent the previous eight days becoming accustomed to Italy. Adding to it is the contrast between Italy’s winding streets and intimate vistas and Germany’s enormous, imposing structures.

I repeatedly had to stop myself from saying “scusi” and “grazie.”

Made it to Berlin on Friday and managed to hit a few sites right off the bat. With my old buddy Kathryn serving as tour guide, we strolled the Unter den Linden leading up to the massive, majestic Brandenburg Gate.

FUN FACT: The gate is where Ronnie said, “Be my little baby… oh my darling. Whoa, oh-oh-oh-ohhh.”

Hold on… wrong Ronnie.

“General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization: Come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”

There are also different types of bricks signifying where the wall used to be (some parts of it still stand … more later).

Then to the nearby (and relatively new) Holocaust Memorial (AKA Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe). In and of itself, it was solemn, imposing and effective – and, architecturally, not what I expected. But adding to the experience was a concert of sorts being played from within the massive, almost maze-like memorial. It was brass and percussion, producing dark and moving music to commemorate the opening of the memorial. It was powerful.

And logistically impressive. There isn’t a lot of room among the concrete slabs for a small orchestra, so each instrument was set up apart from the others, with the musicians watching the conductor via camera/video.

The memorial itself – which for me felt like countless, nameless tombstones -- was powerful. The music deepened the experience.

Then a German TV station interviewed us for our reaction to the concert. No idea if it aired, but I’ll pay a quarter…

We also visited Bebelplatz, the site of Berlin’s book burning, which happened 75 years ago today. That monument also is impressive – a glass floor through which one can see a while room with empty bookshelves.

On the way to Potsdamer Platz, we passed a motorcade. Clearly the government was ready for my arrival. Once there, I got to see/touch remains of the wall. Kathryn tells me of friends from both sides who talk about the effects the wall coming down has had. In addition to the obviously positive, many West Berliners gobbled up property in East Berlin, affecting the housing markets, while the government has put so much time and resources into developing the east that some parts of West Berlin now pale in comparison.
The segments of the wall are completely covered in graffiti (and, in some places, gum), making even more vivid the scenes of it coming down … which, really, didn’t happen all that long ago.

But all of this completely paled in comparison to what was to come. After eating at an Italian restaurant (I know, I know), on the way out they provide you with…

Free. Gummy. Bears.

I am in the home of Gummy Bears?! My god – it’s like a coffee addict venturing to Colombia (I passed on the harder drug references here. You are welcome).

My host doesn’t know of any Gummy Bear attraction or theme park (though apparently Germans love the circus … no, really), but I shall search. And yes, damnit, Gummy Bears are capitalized!

FUN FACT: Gummy Bears are awesome.

And then the ticket machine at the train station ate my credit card.

Jonathan, son of Susan ...

Friday, May 9, 2008

All in the family


No, I don't mean the mob -- I didn't venture that far south.

Years ago, my mother was traveling somewhere in Europe -- I want so say Italy or Germany (well, I don't want to, but facts is facts) and she had to get out of the country early (and quickly) because of some looming strike.

This morning I get to Piazzale di Roma (bus station) by 9:30. Bus takes 20 min to airport, flight isn't until 12:45. Plenty of time.

Expect that all the busses are on strike. From 9 to 12. Had I not wandered through the Jewish Ghetto in the morning ... Well, I would have slept more, actually, and still gotten to bus at same time.

(Incidentally, Jewish Ghetto has interesting history ... including origin of the word "ghetto." Look it up.)

Nobody at ticket counter or bus company seems to want to offer up any alternative. Finally I ask, "taxi?" Bus agent begrudgingly agrees that yes, a taxi is capable of transporting me to the airport.

So we (me and this French couple in same predicament, but with slightly earlier flight) run around looking for taxis. We see a taxi sign pointing down an alley. We follow it. It leads to water.

Wrong kind of taxi.

Eventually we find the correct line, but taxis are few and far between (they probably are busy not striking).

After about 20 min we finally get a taxi. And it took about five minutes for fare to reach €15-20. After the hotel credit card machine crapped out, I don't have a ton of cash left. And at this rate, this will be the most expensive 20-minute taxi ride since the Scranton incident of '89.

Fortunately, the fare was weighted early and its meteoric rise slowed dramatically as we went. So after splitting it with the French folk, wasn't so bad.

And my plane is an hour late. So I had plenty of time. Probably could have taken the bus at noon.

--

A few more thoughts on Italy ...

• If you as someone to take your pic, don't ask them to retake it six times because it's no lined up exactly perfect with the previous picture of whatever we were in front of (a picture that was better for not having you in it). And don't ask, "you need help?" unless you want me to reply, "how sturdy is your camera in relation to your skull?" Then don't ask where I'm staying. Far away from you, psycho...

• Hey post office lady, I'm sorry I apparently ruined your day by not having exact change for stamps this morning. What? You need to give me change? The horror ...

• Hey Venice ... You rock.

• This morning I saw a guy wheeling a lawnmower down some steps over a canal. Odd in and of itself, but even more so considering I saw all of maybe three lawns in Venice.

Maybe it was his day to have the mower.

Might go get an espresso now. Just to say I had one in Italy. Or I could lie about it and grab one at Tully's. Either way ...

Thursday, May 8, 2008

BeanMan: Vote for water

My one full day in Venice...

Did a couple of sights (another galleria academia, San Marco's, another bell tower), saw some good art (Titan ...) and views (from tower, though you couldn't see canals from up there) and a nice ceiling (honestly, I've had enough of frescos ... So it was just lovely that St. Mark's had an amazing gold mosaic ceiling. Very impressive. Lots of gold on the exterior of this multi-domed basilica).

Also chilled in a piazza by the basilica and Doge's Palace, listening to live music and watching pigeons climb on people and chase each other around. Really was kind of amusing.

But today was mostly about wandering. Went by a couple of big areas, but mostly kept the map in my pocket and just picked a direction (in Venice, one must constantly pick directions ... And you try to vary it up so no one direction consistently feels left out by being picked last). Found a university, some folks playing hoops (sometimes they looked European, what with good passing, decent shooting and no defense or rebounding ...) and kept the map in my pocket until I reached a choice between boat bus (no ticket) or cruiseliner (no ticket).

FUN FACT: The last supper, according to one formerly prominent (dead now) eventually Venetian artist's interpretation (Veronese), took place here in Venice. Florence artists might disagree. As do Roman artists. But not those from Secaucus -- they pretty much know they've got no claim here.

Mostly ate Pizza, which is much closer to NY style than that in Florence and Rome. Good pizza.

But the real highlight was tonight. Took one of them boat busses (it's like a bus ... That floats! And not upside-down!) down the grand canal for about 20 minutes, enjoying Venice at night from the water. I think I got some great pics, too. After the boat, continued to walk around, and even learned enough of the geography to give reasonably good directions to people from the Czech Republic and Italy.

And followed my dad's advice of asking a pretty girl for directions. And boy did she give me directions, if you know what I mean. I mean she pointed out where we were on the map and instructed me how to reach my destination. Most helpful.

I wandered some more and took it all in (and many more pics), helping keep tourism the No. 1 industry here (not sure about that, but it has to be true -- we are flooding this city ... well, that would be the water, actually).

FUN FACT: Mussolini was a fascist.

So my Italian journey ends in a matter of hours, and my German jaunt begins. So much more to see here, so a little sad to go. But many more cities and much more adventure awaits. Buona serra, Italia!

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

What Venice holds in Storrs ...

So I get to Venice and begin to make my way along the canal toward my hotel, thinking, "Holy crap, I'm in Venice! This is so cool."

Then I hear someone say, "University of Connecticut."

I was wearing my UConn shirt. A woman in a group passing by noticed.

"Are you from Connecticut?" she asked me.

"Yeah, I'm from Storrs," I say.

(I know -- yesterday I was from Wayne, today I'm from Storrs. Deal with it.)

"So are we!" she says.

She used to teach at my middle school while I was there, though I never had a class with her. But she recognized the name, so maybe another Baum sibling had her.

We chat about Storrs and Italy (pretty much the same) and the like for a few minutes, then their group continues on ... all this thousands of miles from HuskyVille.

Too much.

Either this is an amazing string of coincidences (see prior post) or this stuff happens all the time and I just need to get out of the house (or country) more.

Anyway, I said I would write more about that meal. Appetizer plate was great, as were meal's two courses ... and the complimentary champagne. The dessert, too ... sheesh.

Good suggested eatery, those who suggested it. In fact, they had a newspaper/magazine clipping rating them one of the best 30 restaurants ... in all of Europe.

Kind of the Carl's Jr. Of Italy.

But enough about that; Firenze is so seven hours ago. Gonna wander and wander some more around Venice over the next 1½ days as the Italian portion of my trip winds down.

FUN FACT: Holy crap. I'm in Venice.

And then mom's shoe fell in the water

Tuesday in Florence... Well, after I got over my inability to figure out where I was, I finally found Academia, home of David.

Then I saw the line. Try again tomorrow. Went to Duomo. Line not as bad, but at this point I'm grumpy and impatient and have no desire to wait around. Instead, I'm comfort-fooding with gelato. A lot o' gelato.

Hey, David, Duomo ... it's not as if I was skipping anything major. My limited time here in Firenze was adding to stress level (so much, but so little), though I kept "don't worry about missing stuff" and "you're on vacation" advice in mind. It helped.

Rick Steves says Giotto's tower next to Duomo is easier to access and has better view. So, no line and a brutal 400-plus steps later, I manage to make it up ... barely. And the view is tremendous. I take pictures. Because that's what one does in situations such as these.

Eventually I meander down, feeling a little energized and motivated having finally accomplished something. I make my way down to the Uffizi, planning on getting a reservation for the next day. A friendly security guard tells me reservations already are booked for next day, so I should wait in line in morning ... or right then, but he said wait was 1.5 hours.

Drat.

Person at front of line says she had been waiting only 30 min, so I give it a shot and spend the time writing the previous blog entry. I almost get to front of line, but same friendly security guy ropes it off right in front of me. I ask him what's happening, and he explains there is a limit at a time and we still will get in.

OK, all good.

Few minutes later a woman comes by with an extra reserved ticket. Just one extra, looking for someone visiting Uffizi on his/her own.

Hi.

Advantage to reservations? No lines. But I already am at front of line, and there is actually a small reservation line. Ah, the dilemma. I abandon my people and join the elite reserves (insert political/military propaganda here).

While waiting in reservation line with the friendly family from San Francisco to go through security, our friendly security guard sees me. I already know what's coming.

"You have a reservation?"

"I do," I say, smiling and showing him the ticket.

He looks at the ticket and then back at me.

"That's very strange," he said.

I replied, "I know."

He walked away.

After all is said and done (imagine such a time ...) I get into museo about same time as my buds from other line, but only because I had to check my backpack.

But the San Franciscans refused my offer to pay for the ticket (most kind), so let's call it a win.

Uffizi was very good, very much due to Rick Steeves' guide (call it art for dummies). Only bummer was that one famous Venus painting was out on loan. Otherwise, fun/interesting/not overwhelming or absurdly long tour.

And on the tour, I kept running into the same guy (in addition to SF family) and his family... in line, inside, in the bathroom, on the way out. Granted, we entered at roughly the same time, so it wasn't shocking, but a little sign of what was to come.

I walked by Santa Croce (would return the next day when it and the leather store were open -- also gazed upon Michelango's tomb, and a couple of other famous ones. FUN FACT: Grant is not buried there.) and down to Ponte Vecchio. Some great views from the Old Bridge, especially with sunset coming. I checked the guidebook and was reminded that Piazzale Michelangelo -- way the heck up the hill from Ponte Vecchio -- was the best spot to see the sunset here. I was running out of time, so I high-tailed it up there.

After climbing the tower earlier, this wasn't easy. And the long steps toward the end took exactly three strides each for me -- which was nice, as the excruciating pain was distributed evenly between my two already iffy knees.

But I make it to the top and take in a breathtaking view (after a breathtaking climb) of Firenze below. Plenty of time for sunset. I begin chatting with these two young Americans from NJ who are here on a Rutgers study abroad program. One of them is from Wayne. Hey, I'm from Wayne! We even were born in the same hospital ... though I may have accidentally lied about what hospital I was born in. But let's just say it synced up. "Small world," he said.

They leave, I mess with all my camera settings to try to capture the spectacular sunset -- figuring a few must have come out. Then I head back down the hill, grab dinner near Ponte Vecchio and begin to meander back to the hostel.

Along the way while lingering in some Piazza, a young woman comes up to me and says "Ciao." She and her boyfriend are just staring at me. I'm wondering why these people are talking to me, then it occurs to me that these are my Turkish hostel-mates from Rome! Small world, indeed.

We chat for a minute, they ask where I'm staying. I tell them which hostel. Yep, of course, so are they. Not the same room, though. That would have been stalking. Incidentally, my hostel-mate this time was a former Florence resident -- lots of good tips. Very cool/helpful/friendly.

This morning I finally did make it to Academia and saw David -- very cool. That kid was a badass. Feels like I should write more on the sculpture, but I don't have much to add. It was remarkable to see in person. Stayed there close to 20 minutes.

They also have a small musical instrument section which included a couple of wild instruments I had never even heard of. Peeked in the Duomo, too, and will head back there after eating at the place a couple of people described as being incredible.

"Two different people have told me that this is the best food in Florence," I said to the host (who told me to come back in a little while).

He laughed.

"Well, they aren't wrong," he said.

Nice.

After those stops, going to hit a Piazza where my mother went to school during a study abroad semester in college and see if anything Syracuse still is there. Then it's off to the train and to Venice.

Probably could have spent another day here, as there is plenty more to see. That's OK -- reason to return. The adventure continues.

~~~~
Addendum:
*Food at La Giostra was ridiculous. Amazing. I didn't even know what I was eating some of the time. More on that experience later.

*Saw inside of Duomo. Art on top/inside of dome is great, as it looks like the subjects are hanging/leaning out windows.

*No sign of the 'Cuse -- not even an orange peel -- at the piazza. Sorry, mom.

FUN FACT: I might not miss my train. But then again, I might.