My time in Muenchen is growing short, and I nearly left the city without seeing something that I had every intention of seeing for weeks. A neighboring town, not more than 30 minutes from the house where I am staying is Dachau. I was told to give myself as much time as I could, and so after class I raced to the Hauptbanhof and caught a train heading that direction.
My expectations upon departure were to come to a desolate camp, isolated from the rest of the area, and utterly depressing. What I found was something quite different. The town of Dachau is much the same as every other town that I had encountered in Bavaria, surrounded by trees and rivers, quaint shops and houses, and the general quiet atmosphere that makes the land what it is.
I caught a bus to take me the 20 minutes further to the memorial ground, and I was surprised again to find that Dachau Concentration Camp lies in the middle of the city. The area surrounding the walls is so lush and full, hardly fitting of a Nazi torture center. It was sunny as I stepped from the bus, surrounded by loud tourists from all over the world, but upon entering the gates of the camp, as if on cue, lighting struck and it began to pour. The clouds darkened the place, and the mood was set.
As you walk through the gates there reads a sign "Arbeit Mach Frei", which is something to the effect of "work will make you free", a lie perpetrated by the Nazi's. I learned that that is the way they managed to fool the masses into believing that what they were doing was noble. They convinced the world that they were rounding up those unwilling to work, or dangerous and "reforming" them through labor. I walked through several exhibits that detailed the propaganda techniques of the Hitler and his men, and how they were able to deceive so many. I had never seen convincing proof before of how people could be so blind for so long.
Apart from the extensive displays detailing the rise of the Third Reich, beginning after the defeat of Wolrd War I, which in themselves were fascinating, I was privy to the camp as seen through the eyes of the prisoners. From walking through the shower/torture room, the barracks, the role-call yard, the gas chambers, and even the furnaces used to dispose of the bodies, there was such a sense of unreality. How was such a thing possible? I realize such thoughts are cliche, but that was my overwhelming thought.
I led me to think, though. Could such a thing happen again? I am not one to make too many bold, inflamatory statements, but I could not resist thinking about modern day America. (Disclaimer: I am in no way making a case that America is like Nazi Germany) We are a nation that has used our might to wage war with a section of the world, and have certainly rubbed the rest of the world the wrong way. We have detainment camps, such as Guantanamo Bay, or Abu Graib, and they have been created under the auspices of "detaining potential terrorists", or generally to keep America safe. We have heard about injustices at these facilities, but we call them isolated and overexagerated, and we believe that a greater good is being accomplished. Is it not possible that we could be fooled just as the Germans were?
Like I said, there are far too many differences between Nazi Germany and the U.S., Hitler and George Bush, but it certainly allows for a bit of perspective. If nothing else, it causes me a bit more sympathy for Germans who were perceived to have just "looked the other way".
After leaving the camp, the rain had stopped, and so I thought it might be nice to walk the 45 minutes back to the Bahnhof. It has been nice to not be on any kind of schedule and have the privelage of meandering back and forth from places. So, I set off in search of the station, and 10 or 15 minutes into my trip the clouds opened up again and it began pouring. I sought shelter under an umbrella outside of a biergarten, but I was still becoming quite soaked. I ducked into a bar next door, had a beer in hopes that the rain would subside, but it did not. Finally I decided that a little rain would not hurt me, and I continued my trip.
An hour or so later, here I am, soaking wet, and glad to be under a roof.
My expectations upon departure were to come to a desolate camp, isolated from the rest of the area, and utterly depressing. What I found was something quite different. The town of Dachau is much the same as every other town that I had encountered in Bavaria, surrounded by trees and rivers, quaint shops and houses, and the general quiet atmosphere that makes the land what it is.
I caught a bus to take me the 20 minutes further to the memorial ground, and I was surprised again to find that Dachau Concentration Camp lies in the middle of the city. The area surrounding the walls is so lush and full, hardly fitting of a Nazi torture center. It was sunny as I stepped from the bus, surrounded by loud tourists from all over the world, but upon entering the gates of the camp, as if on cue, lighting struck and it began to pour. The clouds darkened the place, and the mood was set.
As you walk through the gates there reads a sign "Arbeit Mach Frei", which is something to the effect of "work will make you free", a lie perpetrated by the Nazi's. I learned that that is the way they managed to fool the masses into believing that what they were doing was noble. They convinced the world that they were rounding up those unwilling to work, or dangerous and "reforming" them through labor. I walked through several exhibits that detailed the propaganda techniques of the Hitler and his men, and how they were able to deceive so many. I had never seen convincing proof before of how people could be so blind for so long.
Apart from the extensive displays detailing the rise of the Third Reich, beginning after the defeat of Wolrd War I, which in themselves were fascinating, I was privy to the camp as seen through the eyes of the prisoners. From walking through the shower/torture room, the barracks, the role-call yard, the gas chambers, and even the furnaces used to dispose of the bodies, there was such a sense of unreality. How was such a thing possible? I realize such thoughts are cliche, but that was my overwhelming thought.
I led me to think, though. Could such a thing happen again? I am not one to make too many bold, inflamatory statements, but I could not resist thinking about modern day America. (Disclaimer: I am in no way making a case that America is like Nazi Germany) We are a nation that has used our might to wage war with a section of the world, and have certainly rubbed the rest of the world the wrong way. We have detainment camps, such as Guantanamo Bay, or Abu Graib, and they have been created under the auspices of "detaining potential terrorists", or generally to keep America safe. We have heard about injustices at these facilities, but we call them isolated and overexagerated, and we believe that a greater good is being accomplished. Is it not possible that we could be fooled just as the Germans were?
Like I said, there are far too many differences between Nazi Germany and the U.S., Hitler and George Bush, but it certainly allows for a bit of perspective. If nothing else, it causes me a bit more sympathy for Germans who were perceived to have just "looked the other way".
After leaving the camp, the rain had stopped, and so I thought it might be nice to walk the 45 minutes back to the Bahnhof. It has been nice to not be on any kind of schedule and have the privelage of meandering back and forth from places. So, I set off in search of the station, and 10 or 15 minutes into my trip the clouds opened up again and it began pouring. I sought shelter under an umbrella outside of a biergarten, but I was still becoming quite soaked. I ducked into a bar next door, had a beer in hopes that the rain would subside, but it did not. Finally I decided that a little rain would not hurt me, and I continued my trip.
An hour or so later, here I am, soaking wet, and glad to be under a roof.
Saturday evening and Sunday we spent the day in Tubingen, another small town bordering Bavaria. We stayed in another living community of sorts for students at the university in the town. We stayed out late on Saturday night, and then Sunday we roamed around the city.
Just behind the two pictures up top lies the Philosophy and History wing of the University, and these are both very old and very famous. I believe they were established sometime in the 1400's, and they have housed some of the greatest German minds in history. Luckily for me we stayed with a group of philosophy students who were more than willing to walk us through the building and discuss German philosophy with me. What a treat to be able to speak about Heidegger and Nietzsche with those who have actually read it in its original language. The history of thought in Tubingen has left a legacy that those enrolled there do not take lightly. This was by far one of the best experiences of my trip.
As the last two pictures show, Tubingen is built upon a river, though I cannot remember which one it is, and hills. Everywhere that you walk to is either up hill or down, there are no in betweens. After having climbed Muenster the day before, it was very taxing to climb the steep hills in Tubingen all day. The city is beautiful, though. It really gives you a feel of "old world" Germany, where life is just not as fast paced and hectic as the modern world.The way home was another adventure in itself. Though we were exhausted, Max and Anja did not want to settle for buying a 35 Euro ticket for the three of us to get home, and so they walked around the Hauptbahnhof in Tubingen asking people if they had a ticket that the 3 of us could latch on to. You see, each weekend pass is good for 5 people, and so the search was on to find a couple who were travelling to Munich. After a bit of searching and asking we lucked out and found a couple heading exactly for Munich. We joined them, and 4 or 5 trains later we were in Neuaubing again. Once again, it was quite an experience.
Apparantly I am a much shakier cameraman than I like to imagine, so these did not turn out nearly as clear as I would have liked them to, but these are just a few pictures of from inside the chapel of Muenster. I do not know if these do the place justice, but it was breathtaking on the inside.
I have the digital equivalent of a role of film taken in the towns of Ulm and Tubingen, but for the sake of time and your eventual boredom I will limit myself to a few of note, with the obligatory long-winded diatribes that seem to accompany them.
Saturday morning we awoke (though it was probably almost noon) to a bright sky, perfect for climbing, that is right, climbing. As the pictures illustrate, Ulm is home to the tallest church in the world, Muenster.
I persuaded Anja, though perhaps the size and weight of my backpack should have caused me to think better of the idea, to scale the summit of the mighty Muenster, and so we did.
Imagine, if you will, a stone closet, no large than the size of the one in your hallway that houses your winter coats, extend it almost straight up for about 7oo stairs, and that should give you some idea of the trip to the top. We
climbed and climbed, and finally we made it to the top, a breathtaking sight. Ulm and the border of Bavaria sprawled out before us like an architectual model of some ancient city, hardly appearing real, and I could say or do nothing except stare, both at the beauty of the landscape, and at the architecture of something so massive built several hundred years before my home country came into existence.
As I came down, much fast th
an I ascended I might add, more than the feelings of awe and wonder, I was left with one overriding emotion, sadness. I was truly, deeply saddened at the thought that the German people live in the shadows of some of the most spectacular churches known to man, but they are viewed as little more than tourist attractions or premodern examples of the greatness of German craftsmanship. In short, Christianity has been widely discarded here, placed somewhere in the middle ground between careless apathy and outright rejection, leaning towards disdain. These magnificient structures that dot the roadways of towns and villages both large and small are as ghost-towns on Sunday mornings, shells of their former selves.
The place that birthed Martin Luther, who in turn birthed the modern Christian movement with his utterly rebellious, grace-laced salvation by faith alone, has now subjugated this "faith" to much the same realm as the recycled trash that they sort so thoroughly, good for its orignal purpose, but now serving no conceivable good. So it has been tucked away into the realm of folklore and superstition, and perhaps were it not for the ominous buildings such as Muenster, it would be forgotten completely.
These are the thoughts that circled about my head as I walked down cobblestone streets of Ulm, much the same as they have as I daily pass the churches in Muenchen on my common route; the very same buildings whose towers cast their long shadows on the people of Germany house something so precious, and yet so forgotten.
So, enjoy the spectacular view, and, as I did from the tallest point in the Christian world, pray for the people of Germany, pray that their heritage, so rich in the foundations of the faith, might be recovered as the Israelites did so long ago.
postBody
I am on someone else's computer in Ulm, so I am going to make this quick. First of all, sadly, I have watched the final game of the 2006 NBA Finals, and my heart has been broken for the last 24 hours. I do not have the energy to speak of it right now, but your comments and emails are welcome now. Thank you for allowing me to experience on my own. In Munich, the NBA receives no attention at all, so each game was a surprise when I watched it a day or two late.
Obviously, as I mentioned a moment ago, we are in Ulm, a small University town an hour or two outside of Munich. For the first time in my life I hitchhiked to get here. Anja and I went together to the bus and headed to the edge of Munich. I was warned that once we stepped onto the edge of the Autobahn entrance that it might take a bit of time to get a ride, but hopefully not too long, as Anja assured me she had luck in this location. Well, literally no more than 45 seconds after she stuck her thumb out onto the road, a car pulled over and offered us a ride.
Picture this, a car that might be smaller than my Mini, filled with luggage and junk so that it was pouring from the open windows, but they invited us in nontheless. We sat down in the back and they piled things on top of us until pretty much only our heads were showing so that we could breathe. We spent the next hour or two driving down the Autobahn with a delightful couple from France (him) and Germany (her). We all spoke an interesting mixture of French-German-English, and the ride was extremely enjoyable, mostly on account of the gorgeous farmland that rolled for miles outside of the window. Everything is just so green in Bavaria. I have never seen so many different shades of the same color, but in Deutschland I have.
Upon arrival we wandered about the city until finally finding the dorm of the student that we are staying with. Tonight 4 of us will sleep in a small dorm room, smaller than any I have been in in the U.S. Tomorrow we will head for Tubingen, another University town with an interesting heritage.
Obviously, as I mentioned a moment ago, we are in Ulm, a small University town an hour or two outside of Munich. For the first time in my life I hitchhiked to get here. Anja and I went together to the bus and headed to the edge of Munich. I was warned that once we stepped onto the edge of the Autobahn entrance that it might take a bit of time to get a ride, but hopefully not too long, as Anja assured me she had luck in this location. Well, literally no more than 45 seconds after she stuck her thumb out onto the road, a car pulled over and offered us a ride.
Picture this, a car that might be smaller than my Mini, filled with luggage and junk so that it was pouring from the open windows, but they invited us in nontheless. We sat down in the back and they piled things on top of us until pretty much only our heads were showing so that we could breathe. We spent the next hour or two driving down the Autobahn with a delightful couple from France (him) and Germany (her). We all spoke an interesting mixture of French-German-English, and the ride was extremely enjoyable, mostly on account of the gorgeous farmland that rolled for miles outside of the window. Everything is just so green in Bavaria. I have never seen so many different shades of the same color, but in Deutschland I have.
Upon arrival we wandered about the city until finally finding the dorm of the student that we are staying with. Tonight 4 of us will sleep in a small dorm room, smaller than any I have been in in the U.S. Tomorrow we will head for Tubingen, another University town with an interesting heritage.
I am adding something to my travelling repertoire this weekend by doing something that I vowed I could never, would never do. I am going to hitchhike with Max and Anja to a few of the semi-neighboring cities this weekend. I do not think that I would have the gall to do it by myself, but they do it all the time, and say it is quite easy in Germany. Apparantly three cannot do it together, so I will travel with Anja and Max will fend for himself. I feel very Kerouack-esque.Sorry for the relative lack of communication lately, for those of you reading faithfully. School has been quite tough these last two weeks. When they say "intensive", they really mean it. Not only is the class fast paced, and not English is spoken from start to finish, but the homework is fairly difficult. A quick aside; it was such a beating for the first week or so, because they homework assignments are all explained quickly in German, and so there has been a few times that I have turned in the wrong page, or not done what was asked of me because I did not catch the nuances of what he/she were asking.
Yesterday evening was very enjoyable. Max and Anja asked me yesterday afternoon if I would like to go swimming with them this evening, and, since it has been very warm in Munich these last few days, and I had blown them off to study the previous night, I decided I would join them, though I really should have stayed in to study. They took me to an extremely nice spa of sorts, filled with water activities of varying degrees. It was a massive complex with indoor olympic-like swimming pool, waterslide, lazy-river, and an indoor-outdoor saltwater spring, with jets coming out of the floor. Apparantly it is a pretty swanky place to lounge, but for the last 1 1/2 hours each night they offer a 3 Euro price for the "commoners" to come and enjoy. A sizeable crowd partook, and it was a welcome relief after a bike ride through the city.
The best part, though, was the sauna-wing of the complex. The upper floor was a giant sauna area, which I was thrilled about, loving steam saunas as I do, but this was quite different than the ones I had been to in the States. First of all, there are numerous signs proclaiming that there are no bathing suits allowed, and so there were a host of nude bodies walking about the sealed-off upper floor. Secondly, it was coed. Once again, the European mind seems to have no qualms about nudity, and so men and women mingled together in the buff, enjoying the sauna experience.
There were rooms of different temperatures, from what I gathered, but Max and I chose the hottest one, which was filled with the typical stair-like wooden benches surrounding two large platforms in the middle of the room piled atop with rocks. After spending the first twenty minutes sweating and relaxing an attendent came in with a bucket of water. She proceed to ladel a minty liquid over the rocks that served to both clear your sinuses and intensify the heat tremendously. She then went around with a towel and waved the steam directly onto each person, and it was almost more than the body could take. My lungs and nose burned, my breathing strained, and my head was swimming, but, despite that poor description, it was such a great feeling.
When we could take no more we exited and lowered ourselves, one at a time, into a cold-water bath that shocked your system. As we stumbled down the stairs, exhausted and relieved, we vowed to return to this place at least once in the next week and a half before I hit the road.
This is exactly why I love being a Mav's fan, and, yes, love the fact that Mark Cuban is the owner (sorry Debby). I love reading his blog, and during the Finals run he has been in top form. Take your mind off the "doom and gloom" scenarios that are floating about and enjoy some good old fashioned 'ranting'.
Go Mavs!
Go Mavs!
Yesterday Max accompanied me to a place that I have been intending to visit since the first week of my arrival. Upon arriving in Bayern I began a habit of drinking a very tasty series of brews from Andechs, each bottle having a picture of a church on them. As I came to find out only a few days later, Andechs is a very small village set in the hills of Bavaria that border the Swiss Alps, and it is quite near Munich. The village is little more than a monastery, a biergarten or two, and a brewery, but they are quite famous in the area.
Sielke, maybe you can help me on this one, but I have acquainted Andechs Bier with something like Shiner Bock. In Texas, Shiner Bock is found in most every bar, restaurant, grocery store..etc, but not so in every corner of America, and certainly not in every part of the world. I believe Andechs to be regional in this sense, but it is quite good, and if you should ever come across one, by all means enjoy it.
We took the S5 as far as it would take us, which runs along several lakes and forests of trees and greenery of differing kinds. It was not a particularly sunny day, but the sightly overcast skies only added to the scenery of rolling hills, tall, grassy farmland, and the occasional tiled, orange roof peaking out of a clearing in the woods. It is really a beautiful part of the world when one gets outside of the city here.
Upon leaving the train we followed the signs that indicated "Fuss weg zu Andechs" (footpath), and began our climb through the forest hills, or mountains, as we would call them in Texas. I had been told that it was a short walk through a forest, but it had not been clearly enough explained to me that this "short" walk was in fact an hour long trek up foot-worn paths. I am not complaining, because it was gorgeous, but the word-of-mouth advertising I had received was a bit exaggerated.
We took quite of few pictures, but this is just a sampling of what our hike consisted of, and then we came over a hill and stood at the entrance to the church. The outside of the church was nothing extraordinary, but the inside was magnificent, covered in gold and silver, murals and ikons covering most every space, and a feeling of quiet reverence was kept, even among the tourists. It made you wish you could attend mass there just to experience what it would be like. I have just a few pics from inside the church.
After our long hike I enjoyed 1 Litre of Andechs' finest double bock, ate some really, really superb Bavarian food, whose names I cannot remember, carried on a half-German, half-English conversation with a Swiss family, and then made our way back down the mountain trail. I am not sure I would have been able to successfully complete the trip down if I would have had more than that 1 Litre, because what they serve on the top of the mountain has something like 12-15 percent alcohol content....needless to say, one was plenty.
We met a young German couple on the way down, and we spent the remainder of the afternoon travelling with them back to Munich. It was a great day, wish some of you could have experienced it with me.
Sielke, maybe you can help me on this one, but I have acquainted Andechs Bier with something like Shiner Bock. In Texas, Shiner Bock is found in most every bar, restaurant, grocery store..etc, but not so in every corner of America, and certainly not in every part of the world. I believe Andechs to be regional in this sense, but it is quite good, and if you should ever come across one, by all means enjoy it.
We took the S5 as far as it would take us, which runs along several lakes and forests of trees and greenery of differing kinds. It was not a particularly sunny day, but the sightly overcast skies only added to the scenery of rolling hills, tall, grassy farmland, and the occasional tiled, orange roof peaking out of a clearing in the woods. It is really a beautiful part of the world when one gets outside of the city here.
Upon leaving the train we followed the signs that indicated "Fuss weg zu Andechs" (footpath), and began our climb through the forest hills, or mountains, as we would call them in Texas. I had been told that it was a short walk through a forest, but it had not been clearly enough explained to me that this "short" walk was in fact an hour long trek up foot-worn paths. I am not complaining, because it was gorgeous, but the word-of-mouth advertising I had received was a bit exaggerated.
We took quite of few pictures, but this is just a sampling of what our hike consisted of, and then we came over a hill and stood at the entrance to the church. The outside of the church was nothing extraordinary, but the inside was magnificent, covered in gold and silver, murals and ikons covering most every space, and a feeling of quiet reverence was kept, even among the tourists. It made you wish you could attend mass there just to experience what it would be like. I have just a few pics from inside the church.
After our long hike I enjoyed 1 Litre of Andechs' finest double bock, ate some really, really superb Bavarian food, whose names I cannot remember, carried on a half-German, half-English conversation with a Swiss family, and then made our way back down the mountain trail. I am not sure I would have been able to successfully complete the trip down if I would have had more than that 1 Litre, because what they serve on the top of the mountain has something like 12-15 percent alcohol content....needless to say, one was plenty.
We met a young German couple on the way down, and we spent the remainder of the afternoon travelling with them back to Munich. It was a great day, wish some of you could have experienced it with me.
I have alarming news to report, so brace yourself. I have been self-diagnosed with what doctors, scientists, and every other title of a person who should know what they are talking about have called schorlieahdisnrish-ritis, or translated, Tired-Head..itis. I sat on the couch to have a cup of tea a few moments ago, closed my eyes, and, literally, my head was throbbing, bulging at my temples in some strange rhythm. I have been studying in some form or fashion for almost this entire day, and I feel like my head is expanding, growing on all sides. (*in all fairness, it must be noted that I took an hour and a half off to watch the Mavs debaucle of a few nights ago, but when they lose I do not count it). Perhaps a little carefree blogging will allow my mind to release some of the pent-up knowledge floating around.
Thoughts as they come to me:
1. Learning (or attempting to, at least) German is by far the toughest academic thing that I have ever done. There have been times these last few months, and particularly these last few weeks where I have wanted to run my head through a wall, or maybe crawl under a table and hide from the blank stares I receive when I am trying to answer a question in the language. I vascillate between, "I can do this; it may take a few years, but I will get it," to, "I hate this stupid language and everything about it!!!!" I am somewhere in the middle today.
2. I went to the theatre last night with Anja and Svetlio. It was a modern adaptation of Anton Checkov's The Cherry Garden. I did not understand most of what was said, though some, but it was an excellently acted play. Note to Julie, this year we will no longer put off getting theatre, opera, or ??? tickets, because the arts are just so enjoyable. The way this director used color was amazing. I am not an expert, but I do enjoy the aesthetic side of things, and this was superb.
On a different note, there was a guy sitting just in front of me that could not have looked more like Derek Webb if he tried. Had I not heard him speak German at the end of the performance I would have gone up to talk to him, but luckily he did, and this saved me from the awkwardness of asking a guy if he is a relatively obscure Christian singer/songwriter from America.
3. I finished F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Beatiful and Damned a couple of days ago, and it was truly, truly great. I will definitely teach it to my Jr. and Sr. class this year. The epigraph (I think that is what it is called) on the title page reads, "To the spoils belong the victors". It is a very clever play on the popular saying, and it fits so wonderfully with the book that I have been mentally repeating it for the last few days. I have since started reading Dostoevsky's Poor People, which has that good 'ole Dostoevsky feel to it.
4. I think I have decided to go to Prague for a few days before returning home in July. I will have a small window with which to travel, and so I think that sounds good. Everyone says that is the place to go.
5. Germans are not afraid of nudity. I have been meaning to mention this. We do not have television at the house, or at least more than 1 channel, but they say that nudity is common on television here, and I believe it. In newspapers, regular newspapers, there are naked people, and even on train station billboards. There is a new ad up at several of the stations, that without being too graphic, show about 99.9% of a reclining male. It is quite striking being from America, but no one here even glances twice at such things. Odd, indeed.
6. I'm going now to either: a) study, b) read, c) watch World Cup at a bar. Actually I will probably do all of the above.
7. Go MAVS!!!!
Thoughts as they come to me:
1. Learning (or attempting to, at least) German is by far the toughest academic thing that I have ever done. There have been times these last few months, and particularly these last few weeks where I have wanted to run my head through a wall, or maybe crawl under a table and hide from the blank stares I receive when I am trying to answer a question in the language. I vascillate between, "I can do this; it may take a few years, but I will get it," to, "I hate this stupid language and everything about it!!!!" I am somewhere in the middle today.
2. I went to the theatre last night with Anja and Svetlio. It was a modern adaptation of Anton Checkov's The Cherry Garden. I did not understand most of what was said, though some, but it was an excellently acted play. Note to Julie, this year we will no longer put off getting theatre, opera, or ??? tickets, because the arts are just so enjoyable. The way this director used color was amazing. I am not an expert, but I do enjoy the aesthetic side of things, and this was superb.
On a different note, there was a guy sitting just in front of me that could not have looked more like Derek Webb if he tried. Had I not heard him speak German at the end of the performance I would have gone up to talk to him, but luckily he did, and this saved me from the awkwardness of asking a guy if he is a relatively obscure Christian singer/songwriter from America.
3. I finished F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Beatiful and Damned a couple of days ago, and it was truly, truly great. I will definitely teach it to my Jr. and Sr. class this year. The epigraph (I think that is what it is called) on the title page reads, "To the spoils belong the victors". It is a very clever play on the popular saying, and it fits so wonderfully with the book that I have been mentally repeating it for the last few days. I have since started reading Dostoevsky's Poor People, which has that good 'ole Dostoevsky feel to it.
4. I think I have decided to go to Prague for a few days before returning home in July. I will have a small window with which to travel, and so I think that sounds good. Everyone says that is the place to go.
5. Germans are not afraid of nudity. I have been meaning to mention this. We do not have television at the house, or at least more than 1 channel, but they say that nudity is common on television here, and I believe it. In newspapers, regular newspapers, there are naked people, and even on train station billboards. There is a new ad up at several of the stations, that without being too graphic, show about 99.9% of a reclining male. It is quite striking being from America, but no one here even glances twice at such things. Odd, indeed.
6. I'm going now to either: a) study, b) read, c) watch World Cup at a bar. Actually I will probably do all of the above.
7. Go MAVS!!!!
Due to sheer laziness I have been absent from the blog world for the majority of this week, and I am not feeling all that more energetic this morning, so I thought I would share just a couple of the more humorous pictures that I have captured in my travels so far. At the top is a sight that is common to most every German public restroom that I have been in. Inside each urinal there is a soccer goal with a small soccer ball hanging from the top crossbar. Apprantly going to the restroom in Germany became too mundane, and so they decided to make it a bit more exciting. Sorry ladies, I hear there is nothing even remotely entertaining for you while using the restroom in Deutschland.
On the bottom is perhaps one of my favorite pictures so far, mainly for the jaw-drop factor when it occurred. If you recall that a couple of weeks ago I went out with some Americans to the large Biergarten in the Rathskeller. Well, as we were sitting enjoying the music and drinks we looked to the table next to us and saw two small children, and I mean really small children, something around 2 or 3 years old, drinking their parents' beers. As the picture illustrates, they were not sipping their glasses, they were drinking nearly the entire half-litre between them. It is a bad picture, because the parents were beginning to notice us staring, so I had to take the picture as nonchalant as possible. Needless to say, the children danced excitedly for the rest of their stay in the garden.
postscript: We wondered whether or not this was common practice, seeing as everyone drinks alcohol in every place and time imaginable, and so I have shown the picture and quizzed several people about their take on the incident. Thankfully, most were at least moderately surprised. Obviously Europeans are not nearly as puritanical about drinking as Americans, and perhaps for this reason I have only seen a handful of "drunk" drinkers, and I would bet half of them were tourists. From the time they are born alcohol does not have the same seediness associated with it as it does in the States, and so I think the abuse of it is not as alluring. Legal drinking age is 16, I believe, but many parents allow their youths to drink in moderation before that time. Very few, though, would let their 2 year old have a 1/4 litre, thank God.
All in all it has been a very active weekend, capped off by a good 'ole Texas style barbeque....except for the good 'ole and Texas parts. Rather, we had a German-hippie-barbeque, complete with more vegetables that you could imagine, and only a few pieces of meat.
I think there were probably something like forty people attending this small get-together, but never more than 10-15 at a time. I have learned that when Germans/Europeans get together with one another, they do not take such a metting lightly. We began at about 1:00 pm, with people coming at a slow pace. Things did not
end until just now, about 1:00 am, as we ushered the last stragglers through the door and made haste with the cleanup.
Once again, it was a diverse experience. Throughout the course of the day I met many different Germans, two Mexicans, 1 Frenchman, 1 Chinese girl, and 1 Englishman (I particularly enjoyed getting to speak regular English with the latter).
No amount of food or English-conversation can possibly rival my favorite visitor of the weekend, though. When I opened the package of warm clothes that Julie had sent me, there was this welcomed intruder(below) sitting atop of my favorite sweatshirt. This made my weekend.
When Julie and I first began dating seriously we ate many a box o Pop-Tarts at her parents house, and for the longest time these little Pokemon toys would be in each box. I do not know who began the now-tradition, but we began to hide these for each other to find; in bags, cars, desks, etc..etc. This lasted in some form until we were married a couple of years later, and then the novelty, I suppose, wore off.
As I was cleaning my office a few weeks ago, I came across one last vagabond Pokemon, hiding amidst the rubble. I wiped the proverbial dust from its long travelled body, and then I cleverly hid it in a bag that she took on some trip for the weekend.
Much to my delight, Pokemon made a trip to Germany this last week, and he was received with much smiling and warm wishes upon his arrival. Thank you, my math nerd, for taking a guy in Germany back across the ocean, even if for just a few moment. I would send him back, but he seems exhausted.
Sing it with me, "All hail the power of Itunes' name, let angels prostrate fall..." Perhaps that is a bit of an exageration, but I am beginning a deep love affair with this program, because it has allowed me a glimpse at the world I left behind several weeks ago. In the wee hours of the morning, after returning home from a long, cold evening, I was able to watch my beloved Mavs put a beating on those detestable Heat.
Yes, blogworld, basketball has returned to me, and I have welcomed it with open arms. Itunes uploads the Finals' games in their entirety 24 hours or so after the final buzzer, and I can purchase them in Germany. Google Video has been doing something similar with previous series, but they do not allow we poor Germans to view them from our fair country. "Down with Google, up with Itunes," I say.
So, all in all, I have only missed three Mavs games this postseason, and two of them (where we apparantly lashed the Suns quite handily), are supposedly in the mail as we speak. I could not wait for them, and they probably will not work on my VCR anyway, so I went ahead and found out who was in the Finals afterall.
My sincere thanks to all who bit their proverbial tongues in our little blog-o-sphere, because no one even hinted at the result to me (except for those New Yorkers that were here last weekend...God will punish them, I believe). Though it is several days late, "Go MAVS!!!". I should now only be a day or so behind the rest of the world, so thank you for your continued patience....especially you, Debby.
So, cheer them on to victory tonight, and know that I will be doing the same tomorrow night. It is a sweet sight to behold, indeed.
Yes, blogworld, basketball has returned to me, and I have welcomed it with open arms. Itunes uploads the Finals' games in their entirety 24 hours or so after the final buzzer, and I can purchase them in Germany. Google Video has been doing something similar with previous series, but they do not allow we poor Germans to view them from our fair country. "Down with Google, up with Itunes," I say.
So, all in all, I have only missed three Mavs games this postseason, and two of them (where we apparantly lashed the Suns quite handily), are supposedly in the mail as we speak. I could not wait for them, and they probably will not work on my VCR anyway, so I went ahead and found out who was in the Finals afterall.
My sincere thanks to all who bit their proverbial tongues in our little blog-o-sphere, because no one even hinted at the result to me (except for those New Yorkers that were here last weekend...God will punish them, I believe). Though it is several days late, "Go MAVS!!!". I should now only be a day or so behind the rest of the world, so thank you for your continued patience....especially you, Debby.
So, cheer them on to victory tonight, and know that I will be doing the same tomorrow night. It is a sweet sight to behold, indeed.
Judging from the still-Americanized clock at the bottom of my laptop (Julie's laptop), the other half of the world is just beginning to awaken to a new day, a weekend day. In a sense this half of the world is doing the same, or at least this small house, which only dots a very full neighborhood within Munich. It was a late night for everyone here, and so we are only just now fully opening our eyes and stretching our limbs, opening our minds to the possibilities which lay before us.
This morning has been the romantic notion of life in Germany that I had been dreaming of. Six of us awoke late, and slowly we moved about the house, preparing coffee and tea, I, reading a bit from a Steinbeck novel, and everyone gathering breakfast material out on the tree covered lawn where we spent the next hour or more eating breads and cheeses, drinking our hot beverage of choice, and talking intermittedly about last night's adventures. The sun shone warm against our backs, and the table gleamed bright with its reflected heat-light. For the first time in two weeks I could sit in short sleeves and shorts, sandalled-feet, and enjoy the sounds and smells of the forest of plantlife that grows outside of our front door. It was quite a way to start the morning.
Last night was full of a different type of merriment. During the second half of this week Max and Anja played host to two more Americans, one from Washington state and the other from Wisconsin. After a late morning and an afternoon filled with a parade of people coming in and out of the house, each partaking of a fair share of Andech's finest ale, the three of us went to downtown Munich to watch the opening game of the World Match (though America calls it World Cup...very strange). Munich hosted the opening game, and everywhere in the city was crawling with rabid soccer fans. I would have to go to SuperBowl weekend to be sure, but I cannot imagine any American event illiciting this level of excitement, so much that there were riot police on nearly every corner.....and this was only the opening game. We spent the first half of the match trying to find a bar where there was even a dim view of the television, but that was not an easy find. As I have said before, Munich has several bars on each street, but there were just that many fans watching. We finally found an outdoor cafe in a quaint alleyway that was projecting the game on a big screen. Taking the last three seats available, we settled in for Germany's defeat Costa Rica, at which time the city erupted with glee. Celebrations spilled out into the city streets, not riot-like, but merely joyous, and these lasted until well after we left the scene much later that night.
After the match, we bid Alex, the Washingtonian, goodbye, and Kevin and I found a great old-world Italian restaurant that allowed us to sit at a table without ordering food and watch the next match between Ecuador and Poland. Several hours later we emerged from our quiet Italian refuge only to realize that it was becoming quite late, and so we mazed our way through the city streets and found our train home.
At 3:30 this morning we sat down on the couch after our trek home, and before I could even plot my trip upstairs to bed, I fell asleep. Sometime later I crawled beneath my cold blankets and awoke to the splendor spoken of before. I believe I will head back to my Steinbeck.
I hope your morning is filled with the same awe and beauty that mine has been.
This morning has been the romantic notion of life in Germany that I had been dreaming of. Six of us awoke late, and slowly we moved about the house, preparing coffee and tea, I, reading a bit from a Steinbeck novel, and everyone gathering breakfast material out on the tree covered lawn where we spent the next hour or more eating breads and cheeses, drinking our hot beverage of choice, and talking intermittedly about last night's adventures. The sun shone warm against our backs, and the table gleamed bright with its reflected heat-light. For the first time in two weeks I could sit in short sleeves and shorts, sandalled-feet, and enjoy the sounds and smells of the forest of plantlife that grows outside of our front door. It was quite a way to start the morning.
Last night was full of a different type of merriment. During the second half of this week Max and Anja played host to two more Americans, one from Washington state and the other from Wisconsin. After a late morning and an afternoon filled with a parade of people coming in and out of the house, each partaking of a fair share of Andech's finest ale, the three of us went to downtown Munich to watch the opening game of the World Match (though America calls it World Cup...very strange). Munich hosted the opening game, and everywhere in the city was crawling with rabid soccer fans. I would have to go to SuperBowl weekend to be sure, but I cannot imagine any American event illiciting this level of excitement, so much that there were riot police on nearly every corner.....and this was only the opening game. We spent the first half of the match trying to find a bar where there was even a dim view of the television, but that was not an easy find. As I have said before, Munich has several bars on each street, but there were just that many fans watching. We finally found an outdoor cafe in a quaint alleyway that was projecting the game on a big screen. Taking the last three seats available, we settled in for Germany's defeat Costa Rica, at which time the city erupted with glee. Celebrations spilled out into the city streets, not riot-like, but merely joyous, and these lasted until well after we left the scene much later that night.
After the match, we bid Alex, the Washingtonian, goodbye, and Kevin and I found a great old-world Italian restaurant that allowed us to sit at a table without ordering food and watch the next match between Ecuador and Poland. Several hours later we emerged from our quiet Italian refuge only to realize that it was becoming quite late, and so we mazed our way through the city streets and found our train home.
At 3:30 this morning we sat down on the couch after our trek home, and before I could even plot my trip upstairs to bed, I fell asleep. Sometime later I crawled beneath my cold blankets and awoke to the splendor spoken of before. I believe I will head back to my Steinbeck.
I hope your morning is filled with the same awe and beauty that mine has been.
If you have not figured out already, I live in a pretty unique place. One of the things that Max all but insists upon when people come and stay, which is nearly everday, is that people engage in some sort of juggling training. He is an avid juggler himself, and he, like a strange evangelist of sorts, wants to spread his love of all things juggling to the rest of the world. It really has been quite fun.
Since I arrived just under two weeks ago I have learned to juggle 4 balls at once, 5 balls between two people, 6 balls between two people, and a variety of fun tricks with the standard three balls. Hopefully I will come back ready for my debut with Barnum and Bailey's Circus.
The bottow picture is of Max attempting to juggle fire tonight. We were all extremely impressed, because there appeared to be nothing easy about it. I hope to attempt it before I leave.
I found out another interesting fact about Max today; he works in a circus. I was disappointed to find out that he did not perform; rather, he helps kids get ready to perform. It is a Kindercircus (children-circus), but he assures me it is pretty impressive for kids. Strangely it did not surprise me at all when he said he worked for a circus.
This is the upstairs. The last two pictures are Max and Anja's room, and then finally my room. Hope you enjoyed the brief tour of the house.
