It's official. In less than 48 hours I will be leaving Berlin and heading back home (and it feels like, back to reality). Honestly, trying to fathom and reflect upon this experience in its entirety is nearly impossible. There were stretches when I was absolutely miserable, others were I was content, others were I would have given anything to be on the next flight home, and now it's a pretty even melange of sadness to leave and excitement to be home.
It's a shame I have to leave just when the weather is getting nice... we had the coldest winter on record in Berlin (and why wouldn't that be the case--it is my life we're talking about). I spent last night at a beer garten, yesterday bike riding along the Spree River, and Sunday in a park laying on the grass drinking beer. I usually don't like the outdoors, and even though all this outside time has given me a really cool necklace and watch tan line (when I say tan because it's me we all know it means burn) I feel invigorated to see Berlin with new eyes.
Tonight is the farewell dinner, which is a momentously sad and happy occasion. I have tried to come up with funny superlatives for members of IES as a sort of "goodbye, Annie Style". For example one category is, "Most Likely to Have His Girlfriend Stolen by Buddy Holly at a Hop" directed at a guy who dresses like he thinks he's James Dean. It's good natured though, promise. I thought about giving the bitchy girl "Miss Congeniality" but I figured I should be above it (although, who am I kidding, I'm not). But as another, "goodbye, Annie Style" I have compiled in a style, similar to that of Allure Magazine's "beauty by the numbers", a "Berlin by the numbers". Enjoy:
DEUTSCHLAND BY THE NUMBERS
Countries Visited: 6 (Germany, Sweden, Czech Republic, France, Russia, U. K.)
Credit Hours: 16
Classes: 5
IES Students: 25
Host Mothers: 2
Bowls Broken causing the infamous "bowl gate": 1
Irish Stag Partiers whose Stag Party I crashed: 12
Awkward Confrontations in Russia with Bitchy girl: 2
Bitchy comments directed at me by said girl: Millions
Time's Denied Entry to Flam's: 1
Times men masturbated to me on the S-bahn: 1 (too many!)
Former Dutch Prostitutes Met: 1
Novels Read: 5
Novels Read in the Twighlight Series: 2
Times Attended White Trash Fast Food: 4
Strip Clubs Attended: 3
Late Night Doeners: too many to count
Height of New Zealander I stupidly challenged to a drinking contest: 6' 7''
Glass Shelves Shattering Resulting in Stitches: 1
Number of Stitches: 2
Cost to Replace Shelve: 17 Euros
Cost to Replace Foot: 50$ co-pay
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Leipzig, Ich liebe dich!
You know that feeling you get when you snuggle with a puppy in the sunshine while eating your favorite food, listening to your favorite music, and then Jesus comes and hands you a 100 dollar bill? Ok, that's what it's like to be in Leipzig with the Lipps. As most of you know, two years ago I spent six weeks in the summer studying abroad in Leipzig and stayed with the Lipp family. Finally, after two years, and on the week before I leave Berlin to go back to the U.S., I was able to visit the Lipps again. I was hopping like a little bunny when I got off the train and Ina was waiting for me at the station. It was like I could finally exhale! Ina and I hugged and kissed and this time, unlike last, I can speak a little German (albeit poorly) so we traded German inquires as to health ex cetera. As we drove through Leipzig everything looked familiar but different, a lot of construction has gone on. And when we pulled up to number 7, it was the best feeling. Even though the Lipps have remodeled their house and its now three stories instead of two...it smelled the same and it was like I never left! Even better, Ina had kuchen und kaffee (cake and coffee) waiting for me on the balcony. I love this woman!
The rest of the visit was so quick, but I got to see Nellus (my host brother) who is now a studly man with his own apartment that I'm sure is driving the women all insane, Basti and Marcus who I was also friends with last time, my favorite Museum, and a Schumann concert. Also, last time I was in Leipzig I gained like 20 lbs, and I couldn't figure out why, because I walked a lot and didn't eat junk food, and didn't drink that much beer...I know why, now. Ina is the best hostess/cook and she feeds you until you're about to burst but how can you say no?! Anyway, the whole weekend was a breath of fresh air, and being babied and molly-coddled (as my Scottish friends would say) made me even more ready to see my Mommy and have her love me and be nice to me. She's vowed to follow me around like a puppy and braid my hair and cuddle me and probably, she thinks, annoy me, but I'm strangely looking forward to it. I almost typed strangley, just then, that may be apt.
This is my last week in Berlin, and while I am ready to go home, I will miss it. Undoubtedly. I spent today outside in the sun, at this great park where they have a flea market and music and everyone just chills outside on blankets and drinks, etc. Then Steve, Kyle and I went to this place called "Fat Ass Pizza" which again, is apt. Then we got ice cream and walked around and people watched in Prenzlauerberg. It's a shame I have to leave right when the weather is getting amazing. And it's also a shame the weather is getting good right when I have exams all week. P.S. You know the expression, "Couldn't care less?" I have never understood the feeling of not being humanly possible of caring a smaller amount the way I understand it now in regards to exams. I just. Don't. Care. I want to see the sights, get my last time in with friends I've made on the program, and I just can't be bothered to study. I love that phrase, "can't be bothered"...because that's exactly how I feel. Like terribly inconvienced by responsibility.
Alright, well I will at least do one final entry, "Deutschland by the Numbers," as promised. And maybe one more in addition. I hope. But in reality, it's possible I can't be bothered.
The rest of the visit was so quick, but I got to see Nellus (my host brother) who is now a studly man with his own apartment that I'm sure is driving the women all insane, Basti and Marcus who I was also friends with last time, my favorite Museum, and a Schumann concert. Also, last time I was in Leipzig I gained like 20 lbs, and I couldn't figure out why, because I walked a lot and didn't eat junk food, and didn't drink that much beer...I know why, now. Ina is the best hostess/cook and she feeds you until you're about to burst but how can you say no?! Anyway, the whole weekend was a breath of fresh air, and being babied and molly-coddled (as my Scottish friends would say) made me even more ready to see my Mommy and have her love me and be nice to me. She's vowed to follow me around like a puppy and braid my hair and cuddle me and probably, she thinks, annoy me, but I'm strangely looking forward to it. I almost typed strangley, just then, that may be apt.
This is my last week in Berlin, and while I am ready to go home, I will miss it. Undoubtedly. I spent today outside in the sun, at this great park where they have a flea market and music and everyone just chills outside on blankets and drinks, etc. Then Steve, Kyle and I went to this place called "Fat Ass Pizza" which again, is apt. Then we got ice cream and walked around and people watched in Prenzlauerberg. It's a shame I have to leave right when the weather is getting amazing. And it's also a shame the weather is getting good right when I have exams all week. P.S. You know the expression, "Couldn't care less?" I have never understood the feeling of not being humanly possible of caring a smaller amount the way I understand it now in regards to exams. I just. Don't. Care. I want to see the sights, get my last time in with friends I've made on the program, and I just can't be bothered to study. I love that phrase, "can't be bothered"...because that's exactly how I feel. Like terribly inconvienced by responsibility.
Alright, well I will at least do one final entry, "Deutschland by the Numbers," as promised. And maybe one more in addition. I hope. But in reality, it's possible I can't be bothered.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Damn it, Iceland!
As if one needed more reasons to be angry at Iceland...a terrible volcanic eruption issued clouds of volcanic ash that prevented any flights from taking off Friday morning. I was supposed to be on a flight Friday to Munich! URGH! And so Steve called me with the news and we met at the train station to see if we could get train tickets, but they were like 300$ round trip, which is OUTRAGEOUS! So I was pretty much not paying for it under any circumstances. So, I am in Berlin this weekend, which isn't a bummer, because I love Berlin, but is a bummer, because I've never been to Munich and this is another time I won't be able to go.
In good news, I am officially an intern for a Senator in D.C. this summer. Kind of a big deal, right? I love when things work out for me, probably because it is a legitimately rare occurance. See Munich example. And as my trip is winding down I am starting to get a little panicky about having to leave Berlin. Not that I won't be absolutely thrilled to be home...it's just that Berlin is my place. It gets me. I get it. I love that it's kind of rough around the edges, and that there is an artists' squat in the middle of prime real estate that no offficial is making leave. I love that their are "renter's rights" that make it almost impossible for areas to be gentrified. I love that coffee is 1 Euro or less to go, (as opposed to Starbucks). I love that nothing ever closes and the S-Bahn runs all night. Ah Berlin. I feel like I'll be wierdly in appropriate for life in the U.S. Like I will have forgotten how to adjust. And the first time I'm at a party, and someone offers me beer...and it's a BEAST and not a Flensburger, I might cry.
Berlin has taught me a lot about myself. First of all, I can handle a lot. I am strong. I know that sounds like a creepy affirmation to be chanted at some sort of wierd camp, but it has proven to be true. People can throw a lot at me and I still come through, maybe not smelling like a rose, maybe not as gracefully as an Audrey Hepburn or Julia Roberts, but I come through. Secondly, I realized I bring the party. Seriously, I MAKE fun happen. I'm that girl that goes into a club with three people and starts dancing, but not only dancing, buying everyone shots and teaching them line dances. I am THAT girl. And I'm proud to be that girl. Some people are so annoyingly unhappy. People on the trip have complained about everything from A to Z, and it's like "you know what, you're in Berlin (Paris, St. Petersburg, Stockholm, Edinburgh) get over it!" Like on our Russia trip, "If I have to look at another castle I'm going to f--ing die." Really? REALLY!? There are some people who never even get to see the fake castle at Disney Land and you're complaining about too many?! So because I never want to sound like THAT person, I am thankful for every opportunity I get. And studying in Berlin an entire semester, wow, that's an opportunity, right?
I have done some less serious reflections and I have a "Berlin by the Numbers" which will crack everyone but I'm sure. It quantifies my ridiculous experiences, which have been vast. I mean, VAAAAAST. Thinks happen to me that don't happen to anyone else in the U.S....imagine this in Deutschland, it is OBSCENE.
In good news, I am officially an intern for a Senator in D.C. this summer. Kind of a big deal, right? I love when things work out for me, probably because it is a legitimately rare occurance. See Munich example. And as my trip is winding down I am starting to get a little panicky about having to leave Berlin. Not that I won't be absolutely thrilled to be home...it's just that Berlin is my place. It gets me. I get it. I love that it's kind of rough around the edges, and that there is an artists' squat in the middle of prime real estate that no offficial is making leave. I love that their are "renter's rights" that make it almost impossible for areas to be gentrified. I love that coffee is 1 Euro or less to go, (as opposed to Starbucks). I love that nothing ever closes and the S-Bahn runs all night. Ah Berlin. I feel like I'll be wierdly in appropriate for life in the U.S. Like I will have forgotten how to adjust. And the first time I'm at a party, and someone offers me beer...and it's a BEAST and not a Flensburger, I might cry.
Berlin has taught me a lot about myself. First of all, I can handle a lot. I am strong. I know that sounds like a creepy affirmation to be chanted at some sort of wierd camp, but it has proven to be true. People can throw a lot at me and I still come through, maybe not smelling like a rose, maybe not as gracefully as an Audrey Hepburn or Julia Roberts, but I come through. Secondly, I realized I bring the party. Seriously, I MAKE fun happen. I'm that girl that goes into a club with three people and starts dancing, but not only dancing, buying everyone shots and teaching them line dances. I am THAT girl. And I'm proud to be that girl. Some people are so annoyingly unhappy. People on the trip have complained about everything from A to Z, and it's like "you know what, you're in Berlin (Paris, St. Petersburg, Stockholm, Edinburgh) get over it!" Like on our Russia trip, "If I have to look at another castle I'm going to f--ing die." Really? REALLY!? There are some people who never even get to see the fake castle at Disney Land and you're complaining about too many?! So because I never want to sound like THAT person, I am thankful for every opportunity I get. And studying in Berlin an entire semester, wow, that's an opportunity, right?
I have done some less serious reflections and I have a "Berlin by the Numbers" which will crack everyone but I'm sure. It quantifies my ridiculous experiences, which have been vast. I mean, VAAAAAST. Thinks happen to me that don't happen to anyone else in the U.S....imagine this in Deutschland, it is OBSCENE.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
"Ich bin ein Berliner!"
So just fyi, everyone knows that is incorrect German, right? In German you aren't "a student" or "an American" you "are American" or "are Student." So when JFK said, "Ich bin ein Berliner" he said, not "I am a Berliner" but instead, "I am a jelly donut", which is what "berliner" with an article is. Every has that? Ok, but I entitled my blog that because I feel like I finally am "a Berliner" or "Ich bin Berliner". I actually also live now about 400 m from where JFK gave that speech, I finally live in the West. Actually East Berlin is cooler in a lot of ways, but not the way that involves me living in bumble fuck nowhere with a crazy-bitch. But East Berliner has been restored and it's where all the "bo bo" want to live. Which is a term I like a lot, it means "bohemian bourgeoisie" think of Dublin moms who shop at whole foods and insist on hybrid cars. But there are a lot of them in Germany, and they all live in Prenzlauerberg in former East Germany.
So I have been just walking around the city, finding hot spots, bars, restaurants, every place I go I find something completely different that I've never seen before. Plus, I'm finally really starting to feel like part of the IES group. With the exception of bitchy comments from a certain someone, I really have had no problems with anyone. And I mean, one has to consider the source, the bitchy comments stem from a girl who is just plain unpleasant, and it really only makes her look like a pyschopath. Other people are starting to notice. And this girl said to Steve, "You're so nice. I try to be nice but I never can." and she said it like, "isn't that a fun idosyncracy" and everyone in the group sort of responded with, "um actually you shouldn't be proud of that. That's a tragic personality flaw." So people are catching on. And because I just let it roll of my back, she looks foolish. Which she is. I mean how hard is it to BE CIVIL. I don't seek her out, I don't want to be her friend, but I have never said anything rude or mean. Why would I? I mean, damn, I've thought it...but there was an incident when she told me off and said, "I've hated you from the very beginning," and all I could think was, "God, that's sad. I haven't given two thoughts about you." So, to sum up, I win!
I hope I come back to Germany, I would love to live here or in Edinborough or somewhere not in the U.S. I don't belong there. I have such a different mentality. It would be hard to live in Berlin though, they're not an easy bunch to get to know unless you have an "in". But I think it would be fun to work in a hostel, get to know all kinds of different people from all over the world...I'm becoming much more open to the ideal of travel. I might even like to go to Panama to visit Jeanie and then backpack a little bit around central america. I might even try to learn Spanish, it can't be that hard. In fact I know that it isn't that hard. Look at me, I am unstoppable!
So I guess this is more meandering and considerably less funny than I intended, but you know. I can't be on all the time. Although, I did meet Laurel's friends from home and they all said within 10 minutes of meeting me that I should have my own talkshow. I think I should, I would watch it. No one has any idea of all the shit that's flying around in my brain. I could tell the most ridiculous stories, wierd things that only happen to me. Like the time I was in Prague and I met a pack of men with handle bar mustaches...or the time in Berlin I lived with a crazy lady...or the time I spent Easter in a sex museum...or the time... on and on.
So I have been just walking around the city, finding hot spots, bars, restaurants, every place I go I find something completely different that I've never seen before. Plus, I'm finally really starting to feel like part of the IES group. With the exception of bitchy comments from a certain someone, I really have had no problems with anyone. And I mean, one has to consider the source, the bitchy comments stem from a girl who is just plain unpleasant, and it really only makes her look like a pyschopath. Other people are starting to notice. And this girl said to Steve, "You're so nice. I try to be nice but I never can." and she said it like, "isn't that a fun idosyncracy" and everyone in the group sort of responded with, "um actually you shouldn't be proud of that. That's a tragic personality flaw." So people are catching on. And because I just let it roll of my back, she looks foolish. Which she is. I mean how hard is it to BE CIVIL. I don't seek her out, I don't want to be her friend, but I have never said anything rude or mean. Why would I? I mean, damn, I've thought it...but there was an incident when she told me off and said, "I've hated you from the very beginning," and all I could think was, "God, that's sad. I haven't given two thoughts about you." So, to sum up, I win!
I hope I come back to Germany, I would love to live here or in Edinborough or somewhere not in the U.S. I don't belong there. I have such a different mentality. It would be hard to live in Berlin though, they're not an easy bunch to get to know unless you have an "in". But I think it would be fun to work in a hostel, get to know all kinds of different people from all over the world...I'm becoming much more open to the ideal of travel. I might even like to go to Panama to visit Jeanie and then backpack a little bit around central america. I might even try to learn Spanish, it can't be that hard. In fact I know that it isn't that hard. Look at me, I am unstoppable!
So I guess this is more meandering and considerably less funny than I intended, but you know. I can't be on all the time. Although, I did meet Laurel's friends from home and they all said within 10 minutes of meeting me that I should have my own talkshow. I think I should, I would watch it. No one has any idea of all the shit that's flying around in my brain. I could tell the most ridiculous stories, wierd things that only happen to me. Like the time I was in Prague and I met a pack of men with handle bar mustaches...or the time in Berlin I lived with a crazy lady...or the time I spent Easter in a sex museum...or the time... on and on.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Czech Yo-Self
Ok, so firstly, patent pending on the Czech Yo-Self. I'm going to Prague and selling t-shirts. They had "Czech me out" of which I bought a shot glass, but still, I am going to make bank on this. So back off!
After coming back from Russia I moved into my new house, which I love. My host brother and sister are so funny. I watched the Bayern-Munchen/Man United game with my host brother. Trash talking in German is one of the best phenomenons that have been invented. Because "I love you" in German sounds like trash talk. Actual trashing coming from ten year old lips, it's like the nectar of the gods.
So, after relaxing (and writing a lot of papers) for the first half of the week, Thursday morning I left for Prague via train. Last time I was in Germany, I booked the train from Leipzig to Berlin, and I reserved a seat for like 8 extra euro, but the train was empty. SO I assumed it was just a complete scam. It might have been smarter, however, to consider that it was EASTER WEEKEND and that people would be flocking to visit their relatives. So the first leg of the trip, I spent sitting in the aisle way on top of my Vera Bradley luggage. Cool. So needless to say, I arrived in Prague a little cranky and sore. But when I got to my hostel, "the Czech Inn" which I chose, in all honesty, solely for the pun, I saw Andrew Walchuk and the heavens parted and the sun came out and I was so happy and excited. It's been 8 months. We could have gestated a baby almost. And we might. Still.
Traveling with Andrew was perfect. We were both completely open to anything. So Thursday evening we just wondered about the square, and there was this huge Easter market with artisans (a very good looking blacksmith) and painted Easter eggs, and all kinds of sausage and bread and candies. Also, we went into this restaurant, and I had 1/4 of a duck...with beer, bread, and apple streudel and cream for desert, for like 6 euros. Yay for the former Soviet Bloc and their reasonable prices (due to their probably still depressed economy but we won't dwell). Also, that Thursday night, I was walking along and I saw the most impressive array of handle-bar mustaches in the form of a group of older British men. So I naturally said, "Those are some fine looking mustaches." And they said, "Well then gorgeous, let's have this bloke your with take a picture." So forever I will associate Prague with British men and mustaches. Which you know, there could be worse associations definitely. When Andrew and I got back to the hostel bar we thoughorly enjoyed the 1 dollar beer happy hours and we met these three really pretensious guys from Boston, all blueblood brothers, and we went out and partied with them at this random spot complete with hip happening music...from 2004.
The next day, lest you all think I have no culture, Andrew and I went to churches, Prague castle, and wondered around the Jewish synagogues. The Jewish ghetto in Prague is so beautiful and well preserved, it's like nothing you've seen in Europe. Which incidently doesn't really have a high Jewish population anymore...weird. Oh wait, I know why that might be. Then after spending so much time on culture, Andrew and I decided to do the pub crawl. Which was insane. All you drink absyth shots, beer, etc for a low price of 14 Euros. We met these British guys and I ended up hanging out with them for most of the trip, especially after Andrew left. Our meeting came about because they were wearing cardigans...and I went up to them and said, "you know only British men wear cardigans. I bet your from Britain." Right I was, so I think I ended up offending them, which is ok. Because we were friends by the end of the night.
After a delcious breakfast at Bohemian bagel, Andrew and I went to the dancing house and just walked along the river and talked about Andre. It was a really nice low-key day. And in the evening, Andrew didn't want to go too big, but I convinced him to go to this "video party 80s and 90s night" which played crappy old music videos and was sooooooo fun. We went with the Brits and got up and danced on stage. And there was this guy there that was obviously a serial killer in the making, so we naturally decided to provoke him by taking pictures with him in it without his permission, and we joked that after we left the club he would be dubbed, "the Prague tram stabber", because everyone on his tram home was probably slain.
So, that's essentially my trip...oh and on the resurection of Christ I celebrated by visiting, "the Sex Machine Museum" which may have effectively made me A-sexual. It was worth doing though, I tell you what, we don't have that shit in the U.S.!
Love and Hugs, Annie
After coming back from Russia I moved into my new house, which I love. My host brother and sister are so funny. I watched the Bayern-Munchen/Man United game with my host brother. Trash talking in German is one of the best phenomenons that have been invented. Because "I love you" in German sounds like trash talk. Actual trashing coming from ten year old lips, it's like the nectar of the gods.
So, after relaxing (and writing a lot of papers) for the first half of the week, Thursday morning I left for Prague via train. Last time I was in Germany, I booked the train from Leipzig to Berlin, and I reserved a seat for like 8 extra euro, but the train was empty. SO I assumed it was just a complete scam. It might have been smarter, however, to consider that it was EASTER WEEKEND and that people would be flocking to visit their relatives. So the first leg of the trip, I spent sitting in the aisle way on top of my Vera Bradley luggage. Cool. So needless to say, I arrived in Prague a little cranky and sore. But when I got to my hostel, "the Czech Inn" which I chose, in all honesty, solely for the pun, I saw Andrew Walchuk and the heavens parted and the sun came out and I was so happy and excited. It's been 8 months. We could have gestated a baby almost. And we might. Still.
Traveling with Andrew was perfect. We were both completely open to anything. So Thursday evening we just wondered about the square, and there was this huge Easter market with artisans (a very good looking blacksmith) and painted Easter eggs, and all kinds of sausage and bread and candies. Also, we went into this restaurant, and I had 1/4 of a duck...with beer, bread, and apple streudel and cream for desert, for like 6 euros. Yay for the former Soviet Bloc and their reasonable prices (due to their probably still depressed economy but we won't dwell). Also, that Thursday night, I was walking along and I saw the most impressive array of handle-bar mustaches in the form of a group of older British men. So I naturally said, "Those are some fine looking mustaches." And they said, "Well then gorgeous, let's have this bloke your with take a picture." So forever I will associate Prague with British men and mustaches. Which you know, there could be worse associations definitely. When Andrew and I got back to the hostel bar we thoughorly enjoyed the 1 dollar beer happy hours and we met these three really pretensious guys from Boston, all blueblood brothers, and we went out and partied with them at this random spot complete with hip happening music...from 2004.
The next day, lest you all think I have no culture, Andrew and I went to churches, Prague castle, and wondered around the Jewish synagogues. The Jewish ghetto in Prague is so beautiful and well preserved, it's like nothing you've seen in Europe. Which incidently doesn't really have a high Jewish population anymore...weird. Oh wait, I know why that might be. Then after spending so much time on culture, Andrew and I decided to do the pub crawl. Which was insane. All you drink absyth shots, beer, etc for a low price of 14 Euros. We met these British guys and I ended up hanging out with them for most of the trip, especially after Andrew left. Our meeting came about because they were wearing cardigans...and I went up to them and said, "you know only British men wear cardigans. I bet your from Britain." Right I was, so I think I ended up offending them, which is ok. Because we were friends by the end of the night.
After a delcious breakfast at Bohemian bagel, Andrew and I went to the dancing house and just walked along the river and talked about Andre. It was a really nice low-key day. And in the evening, Andrew didn't want to go too big, but I convinced him to go to this "video party 80s and 90s night" which played crappy old music videos and was sooooooo fun. We went with the Brits and got up and danced on stage. And there was this guy there that was obviously a serial killer in the making, so we naturally decided to provoke him by taking pictures with him in it without his permission, and we joked that after we left the club he would be dubbed, "the Prague tram stabber", because everyone on his tram home was probably slain.
So, that's essentially my trip...oh and on the resurection of Christ I celebrated by visiting, "the Sex Machine Museum" which may have effectively made me A-sexual. It was worth doing though, I tell you what, we don't have that shit in the U.S.!
Love and Hugs, Annie
Monday, March 29, 2010
"You Want Vacation? Go to Cabo St. Lucas."
Sorry my blogs have been so few and far between. I know my mom is annoyed particularly by this. This, I promise, will be long and funny, so hopefully it will quench your thirst for Annie.
So, I just got back from St. Petersburg, Russia. Which is ridiculous. I don't know how to even describe it. Since St. Petersburg is the "European" Russian city, (per Peter the Great's wishes) it looks very much like any other European city. And the palaces are like Versailles on crack, because the Czar's had no budget (probably because they didn't care if the common folk had only borscht and potatoes to eat). But aside from aesthetics, Russia is nothing like Western Europe. For example, the first day we got there are guide "welcomed us" with the most fatalistic speech I've ever heard in my life. I couldn't stop laughing. She said, "Welcome to Russia. It is so cold here always, if you get two days of sun in a month, you are lucky. It is always cloudy." And then she gave us a tour of buildings, etc. and pointed out the KGB building and she said, "Here is joke, building is so high you can see Siberia from window." And we're thinking, that's a horrible joke! That's like me saying, want to hear a joke? Aids in Africa. Haha! But anyway... I was doing a Russian accent and embellishing her speech a little with thinks like, "You want vacation?! Go to Cabo St. Lucas. You want potato and cold, you come Russia. It is shit hole. Always, shit and cold." Which I think ending up annoying people around me, but I wouldn't let it die because it was so epically funny to me.
Also, we had a cultural presentation at the University on "Russian Time". Examples of this include stores closed in the middle of the day with a sign that says only "on break". No "back at 10" no "Break 1-2" just "on break". Also the mailboxes have signs that say, "Mail picked up once daily between 9am-5pm". Which is it?! And what if you drop it off at 10am, and they had picked it up already, but the next day they didn't pick it up until 4:30pm? That's two days your mail sat in the box. What if you had to pay a bill?! This isn't a concern apparently, you know I would go insane in this society. Oh and also, the buses are so inefficient, that we walked daily to the University, an hour walk, because the bus literally would take an hour as well. We tried it once, the walkers beat the people on the bus. Can you imagine? If that was the case in New York there would be riots on the street. No wonder the people are so fatalistic... nothing works!
But aside from "Russian time" and general pessimism, I loved Russia. I just couldn't ever spend substantial time there. And as cliche as it sounds, it made me SO glad I was American. We met with students from the Russian University one night and most of them were really cold and unwilling to chat with us, for example, this one kid Leni (who I kept calling Lenin because I thought he said that was his name, which, you know, might not have endeared him to us...) after a painful forced 10 minutes of conversation in an awkward silence says to us, "You know Stalin..." Done. Stick a fork in it, the conversation is officially cooked. And another group of girls had a conversation with me and some other students that went like this, "So you're studying English as a major, have you ever been to America?" "No." "Do you want to go?" "No." "So do you not like American culture?" "No." Ok... But there was one girl who was really interesting and friendly, and I chatted with her for like an hour, which upset all the guys because she was gorgeous and they wanted to chat her up. But she said, for example, that a Russian Car, the Lada, is so bad that she would rather have a 1994 used Opel than a brand new 2010 Lada. That's bad. Also, she said that bribes are common place with police officers. She said that for minor traffic violations they'll say, "Let me see your license" and not give it back unless you pay them the equivalent of about 50 U.S. dollars. She also said that the government arrested a poor rural teacher (teachers, she said, are paid about 200 U.S. dollars a month...NOT enough to live on) for taking a 2$ bribe--when police men take upwards of 5000$ a month. To "set an example". As someone studying to be a teacher she was pretty furious over it.
And it's like that, some people are so warm and friendly, like we met people in bars that bought us rounds, like 6 or 8 of us in a group, when we probably have WAY more money than they do, and wanted to talk with us about everything--and then the students who said basically they hated Americans. It's a weird contrast. But the city itself, is AMAZING. See the pictures of the palaces on my facebook. It's all gold and lapis lazuli and jasper and shit like a golden peacock watch, while peasants starved to death. No wonder there was a revolution. But the palaces weren't the highlight of the trip, that was easily Friday with the ballet and the Baltica beer tasting.
Baltica started in 1991 after the fall of the Soviet Union, so Steve and I kept joking, "well it has to be good, they had, oh, almost 20 whole years to perfect the recipe." You know, in contrast to, since 1884 or whatever you see on most beers. And after a tour of the factory, which was really boring (I asked the guy if it would be like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory, which he didn't understand at all and said, "There is a chocolate factory in the city center...") we got to taste the beer. They had three tables, and they split our group of 25 into threes with maybe 20 beers on each table, and gave us an hour to "taste". Our table KILLED the beers. We were all kind of drunk at like 3 in the afternoon. It was awesome. And I knocked over a beer with my boob while I reached for something, and then said, "I don't blame myself" to which Eliza responded, my FAVORITE quote of the trip, "If you kill someone with your boobs, they're still your boobs..." On facebook you can see the laughter that ensued afterwards.
Then to the Russian ballet, which was beautiful and amazing, but it was also really hot in the theatre after being in the cold all day, so even with my badass opera glasses I was pretty ready to go by the time the two hours were up. Then I went out to a club with some IESers and we saw an IMPRESSIVE array of rat tails and wife beaters. Also, I participated in a contest where I had to fill an empty glass squeezed between a guys legs, with a squirt gun from a distance. I won, and we got a HUGE fishbowl full of alcohol. Are you proud, Mom?! Again, pictures on facebook.
So now I am back in Berlin, and moved into my new place, which is huge and lovely. Steve showed me around Shoenenberg, and it is also great. Cafes, bars, shopping, great food, parks, people watching, I wish I would have moved sooner! And my host mom was such a bitch she didn't even bother to say goodbye. She was over at her boyfriend's when I moved out. Which is fine with me, I didn't want her watching me anyway. But seriously, what a bitch! My new host family is awesome, a ten year old boy, a thirteen year old girl, a Swiss student, and the mother. We all had homemade noodles together last night and I spoke only German, it was great! Just like the Lipps and what I wanted. I missed that!
I'm off to Prague to meet up with Andrew from D.C. for Easter, something which I can hardly wait for...I love Andrew! And I also get to go to Leipzig to see the Lipps and then Munich for Spring fest! Thanks Mom and Dad! :-)
So, I just got back from St. Petersburg, Russia. Which is ridiculous. I don't know how to even describe it. Since St. Petersburg is the "European" Russian city, (per Peter the Great's wishes) it looks very much like any other European city. And the palaces are like Versailles on crack, because the Czar's had no budget (probably because they didn't care if the common folk had only borscht and potatoes to eat). But aside from aesthetics, Russia is nothing like Western Europe. For example, the first day we got there are guide "welcomed us" with the most fatalistic speech I've ever heard in my life. I couldn't stop laughing. She said, "Welcome to Russia. It is so cold here always, if you get two days of sun in a month, you are lucky. It is always cloudy." And then she gave us a tour of buildings, etc. and pointed out the KGB building and she said, "Here is joke, building is so high you can see Siberia from window." And we're thinking, that's a horrible joke! That's like me saying, want to hear a joke? Aids in Africa. Haha! But anyway... I was doing a Russian accent and embellishing her speech a little with thinks like, "You want vacation?! Go to Cabo St. Lucas. You want potato and cold, you come Russia. It is shit hole. Always, shit and cold." Which I think ending up annoying people around me, but I wouldn't let it die because it was so epically funny to me.
Also, we had a cultural presentation at the University on "Russian Time". Examples of this include stores closed in the middle of the day with a sign that says only "on break". No "back at 10" no "Break 1-2" just "on break". Also the mailboxes have signs that say, "Mail picked up once daily between 9am-5pm". Which is it?! And what if you drop it off at 10am, and they had picked it up already, but the next day they didn't pick it up until 4:30pm? That's two days your mail sat in the box. What if you had to pay a bill?! This isn't a concern apparently, you know I would go insane in this society. Oh and also, the buses are so inefficient, that we walked daily to the University, an hour walk, because the bus literally would take an hour as well. We tried it once, the walkers beat the people on the bus. Can you imagine? If that was the case in New York there would be riots on the street. No wonder the people are so fatalistic... nothing works!
But aside from "Russian time" and general pessimism, I loved Russia. I just couldn't ever spend substantial time there. And as cliche as it sounds, it made me SO glad I was American. We met with students from the Russian University one night and most of them were really cold and unwilling to chat with us, for example, this one kid Leni (who I kept calling Lenin because I thought he said that was his name, which, you know, might not have endeared him to us...) after a painful forced 10 minutes of conversation in an awkward silence says to us, "You know Stalin..." Done. Stick a fork in it, the conversation is officially cooked. And another group of girls had a conversation with me and some other students that went like this, "So you're studying English as a major, have you ever been to America?" "No." "Do you want to go?" "No." "So do you not like American culture?" "No." Ok... But there was one girl who was really interesting and friendly, and I chatted with her for like an hour, which upset all the guys because she was gorgeous and they wanted to chat her up. But she said, for example, that a Russian Car, the Lada, is so bad that she would rather have a 1994 used Opel than a brand new 2010 Lada. That's bad. Also, she said that bribes are common place with police officers. She said that for minor traffic violations they'll say, "Let me see your license" and not give it back unless you pay them the equivalent of about 50 U.S. dollars. She also said that the government arrested a poor rural teacher (teachers, she said, are paid about 200 U.S. dollars a month...NOT enough to live on) for taking a 2$ bribe--when police men take upwards of 5000$ a month. To "set an example". As someone studying to be a teacher she was pretty furious over it.
And it's like that, some people are so warm and friendly, like we met people in bars that bought us rounds, like 6 or 8 of us in a group, when we probably have WAY more money than they do, and wanted to talk with us about everything--and then the students who said basically they hated Americans. It's a weird contrast. But the city itself, is AMAZING. See the pictures of the palaces on my facebook. It's all gold and lapis lazuli and jasper and shit like a golden peacock watch, while peasants starved to death. No wonder there was a revolution. But the palaces weren't the highlight of the trip, that was easily Friday with the ballet and the Baltica beer tasting.
Baltica started in 1991 after the fall of the Soviet Union, so Steve and I kept joking, "well it has to be good, they had, oh, almost 20 whole years to perfect the recipe." You know, in contrast to, since 1884 or whatever you see on most beers. And after a tour of the factory, which was really boring (I asked the guy if it would be like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory, which he didn't understand at all and said, "There is a chocolate factory in the city center...") we got to taste the beer. They had three tables, and they split our group of 25 into threes with maybe 20 beers on each table, and gave us an hour to "taste". Our table KILLED the beers. We were all kind of drunk at like 3 in the afternoon. It was awesome. And I knocked over a beer with my boob while I reached for something, and then said, "I don't blame myself" to which Eliza responded, my FAVORITE quote of the trip, "If you kill someone with your boobs, they're still your boobs..." On facebook you can see the laughter that ensued afterwards.
Then to the Russian ballet, which was beautiful and amazing, but it was also really hot in the theatre after being in the cold all day, so even with my badass opera glasses I was pretty ready to go by the time the two hours were up. Then I went out to a club with some IESers and we saw an IMPRESSIVE array of rat tails and wife beaters. Also, I participated in a contest where I had to fill an empty glass squeezed between a guys legs, with a squirt gun from a distance. I won, and we got a HUGE fishbowl full of alcohol. Are you proud, Mom?! Again, pictures on facebook.
So now I am back in Berlin, and moved into my new place, which is huge and lovely. Steve showed me around Shoenenberg, and it is also great. Cafes, bars, shopping, great food, parks, people watching, I wish I would have moved sooner! And my host mom was such a bitch she didn't even bother to say goodbye. She was over at her boyfriend's when I moved out. Which is fine with me, I didn't want her watching me anyway. But seriously, what a bitch! My new host family is awesome, a ten year old boy, a thirteen year old girl, a Swiss student, and the mother. We all had homemade noodles together last night and I spoke only German, it was great! Just like the Lipps and what I wanted. I missed that!
I'm off to Prague to meet up with Andrew from D.C. for Easter, something which I can hardly wait for...I love Andrew! And I also get to go to Leipzig to see the Lipps and then Munich for Spring fest! Thanks Mom and Dad! :-)
Monday, March 15, 2010
Back from Scotland
Several Updates:
Firstly, I am moving. I am soooooo happy about it. I haven't really mentioned my host mother that much in my blog, or at least I don't think I have. It's not that she's MEAN per say, it's that she is NEVER there, and weirdly passive aggressive. I feel very unwelcome and uncomfortable in the house. From the beginning, she was an hour late picking me up from IES, and my room wasn't clean or ready, and she hadn't bought groceries with which to cook the first meal (which is REQUIRED). I thought maybe she's just a little bit scatter brained, but no, she cleans and cooks and goes all out whenever HER VISITORS come over. But for me, who would be staying for the next couple months, she didn't bother to make a good first impression. Like, come on! And bowlgate, 2010, I'm sure I've mentioned this. The bowl I dropped that she CANNOT let go. So I talked to Ella the housing lady, and came at the situation like, "I don't know if there is a cultural thing, but we don't seem to be getting along, what can I do?" And when I described the situation to Ella, it was she who suggested I move. She found the house for me a couple hours later, it's in Schönenberg, which is a more traditionally "Berliny" area, Pankow is like old GDRers, which in all honesty are kind of backwater. But S-berg is super hip and trendy, and Steve, my bff in IES lives there, which will make it a lot more fun for me. And Ella took me to visit the apartment, and it's huge and beautiful, very traditional European with an amazing kitchen complete with espresso maker. And my new host mother is very sweet and calming, she has two children, a boy, 10, who is hilarious and a daughter, 13 who stayed in her room but whatever. And there will be a Swiss exchange student who is in the IES German Intensive program which meets downstairs from the Metropolitan Studies program I am in, which means I'll have someone my own age to speak ONLY German to. That's another plus, they speak ONLY German. I should come back fluent.
So, with that sorted out, the only problem is that I can't move from my current apartment until after the St. Petersburg trip which is this Sunday to next Saturday, so needless to say conditions in my apartment are icy and awkward, at best. I'm trying my hardest to just be as pleasant and clean as I possibly can be, keep my head down and stay out of her way until I can leave. Needless to say, I was very happy to be able to be out of the apartment and in Scotland this weekend, but I would have been happy to be in Scotland anyway.
Firstly, Edinburgh is breathtakingly beautiful. I don't know why people from the United States aren't flocking to visit, it's definitely on par with Paris or Rome or London or, I don't know, anywhere in beauty. When the plane landed, your eyes are flooded with castles and beautiful hills and mountains, against a backdrop of the greenest landscape you've ever seen. I was shocked. I guess I shouldn't have been, but I went in search of cool accents and pub food...I had no idea it was so cultured and gorgeous as well.
Evelyn and I got off the plane and into a taxi, and we couldn't meet up with people we knew until later--so we just asked the taxi driver to take us to a main street where pubs and shopping would be. And he's like, okay. Actually, I had been told the main street was "princess street" or at least that's what I understood it to be, but actually it's "Princes street" and the accent just through me off. So I asked the taxi driver, like an idiot, to go to Princess St. and he didn't correct me. So he probably just thought I was American, thus retarded. Sorry guys, poor representation. But so, Evelyn and I went to a pub and ordered the most Scottishy things we could find, Scottish Breakfast for me, which is the ultimate Smorgasbord of meat, potatoes, toast, beans, etc. And I wanted black pudding. But I settled for fish and chips, because this pub didn't have black pudding. Lame.
Later, Evelyn and I met up with our friends from Scotland, and we cooked dinner at their apartment with them and tried meat flavored potato chips; they have smoky bacon, roast chicken and rosemary, etc. Seriously, this country. And the guys, which are the guys we met in Sweden, are so funny. I just like to listen to them make jokes with each other and banter because they're all so different and they get along so well. Bain, for instance, kept making prank phone calls (I know, are we six?!) pretending he was from "The British Nationalist Party" which is like the Nazi party. He said he was renting a conference room and needed the hotel's policy on cross burning, lynching, etc. He also invited the Indian phone man to join. And everyone goaded Lewis into telling the most racist joke I've ever heard, but in a Scottish accent, it sounds charming instead of racist. The punch line is "only for a chocolate biscuit" but in a sing-song voice in heavily accent English. So great.
The next day, Evelyn went off with some friends of hers she met in Berlin that also live in Edinburgh, and I went on a tour with Lewis and Chris, and Chris does tours for a hostel so he was very well-informed. Highlights included, the cafe where J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, Edinburgh Castle featuring statues of William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, the "Thistle Do" Shop (I said, oh like Braveheart, and Lewis said, "yeah, we actually got our national flower from that movie. And Mel Gibson's our prime minister now.") and the tax emblem that all the Scots spit on because it used to be where they had to pay taxes to England. It was super quaint and there were children in the meadows playing rugby and soccer, and everyone is so friendly. I might move immediately.
It was a great weekend, despite the 7 am flight back, and me, like an idiot, getting on the wrong train and going through bumble-fuck nowhere German countryside before finding my way back to Berlin. The whole ordeal took about 2 hours. Ooops!
Firstly, I am moving. I am soooooo happy about it. I haven't really mentioned my host mother that much in my blog, or at least I don't think I have. It's not that she's MEAN per say, it's that she is NEVER there, and weirdly passive aggressive. I feel very unwelcome and uncomfortable in the house. From the beginning, she was an hour late picking me up from IES, and my room wasn't clean or ready, and she hadn't bought groceries with which to cook the first meal (which is REQUIRED). I thought maybe she's just a little bit scatter brained, but no, she cleans and cooks and goes all out whenever HER VISITORS come over. But for me, who would be staying for the next couple months, she didn't bother to make a good first impression. Like, come on! And bowlgate, 2010, I'm sure I've mentioned this. The bowl I dropped that she CANNOT let go. So I talked to Ella the housing lady, and came at the situation like, "I don't know if there is a cultural thing, but we don't seem to be getting along, what can I do?" And when I described the situation to Ella, it was she who suggested I move. She found the house for me a couple hours later, it's in Schönenberg, which is a more traditionally "Berliny" area, Pankow is like old GDRers, which in all honesty are kind of backwater. But S-berg is super hip and trendy, and Steve, my bff in IES lives there, which will make it a lot more fun for me. And Ella took me to visit the apartment, and it's huge and beautiful, very traditional European with an amazing kitchen complete with espresso maker. And my new host mother is very sweet and calming, she has two children, a boy, 10, who is hilarious and a daughter, 13 who stayed in her room but whatever. And there will be a Swiss exchange student who is in the IES German Intensive program which meets downstairs from the Metropolitan Studies program I am in, which means I'll have someone my own age to speak ONLY German to. That's another plus, they speak ONLY German. I should come back fluent.
So, with that sorted out, the only problem is that I can't move from my current apartment until after the St. Petersburg trip which is this Sunday to next Saturday, so needless to say conditions in my apartment are icy and awkward, at best. I'm trying my hardest to just be as pleasant and clean as I possibly can be, keep my head down and stay out of her way until I can leave. Needless to say, I was very happy to be able to be out of the apartment and in Scotland this weekend, but I would have been happy to be in Scotland anyway.
Firstly, Edinburgh is breathtakingly beautiful. I don't know why people from the United States aren't flocking to visit, it's definitely on par with Paris or Rome or London or, I don't know, anywhere in beauty. When the plane landed, your eyes are flooded with castles and beautiful hills and mountains, against a backdrop of the greenest landscape you've ever seen. I was shocked. I guess I shouldn't have been, but I went in search of cool accents and pub food...I had no idea it was so cultured and gorgeous as well.
Evelyn and I got off the plane and into a taxi, and we couldn't meet up with people we knew until later--so we just asked the taxi driver to take us to a main street where pubs and shopping would be. And he's like, okay. Actually, I had been told the main street was "princess street" or at least that's what I understood it to be, but actually it's "Princes street" and the accent just through me off. So I asked the taxi driver, like an idiot, to go to Princess St. and he didn't correct me. So he probably just thought I was American, thus retarded. Sorry guys, poor representation. But so, Evelyn and I went to a pub and ordered the most Scottishy things we could find, Scottish Breakfast for me, which is the ultimate Smorgasbord of meat, potatoes, toast, beans, etc. And I wanted black pudding. But I settled for fish and chips, because this pub didn't have black pudding. Lame.
Later, Evelyn and I met up with our friends from Scotland, and we cooked dinner at their apartment with them and tried meat flavored potato chips; they have smoky bacon, roast chicken and rosemary, etc. Seriously, this country. And the guys, which are the guys we met in Sweden, are so funny. I just like to listen to them make jokes with each other and banter because they're all so different and they get along so well. Bain, for instance, kept making prank phone calls (I know, are we six?!) pretending he was from "The British Nationalist Party" which is like the Nazi party. He said he was renting a conference room and needed the hotel's policy on cross burning, lynching, etc. He also invited the Indian phone man to join. And everyone goaded Lewis into telling the most racist joke I've ever heard, but in a Scottish accent, it sounds charming instead of racist. The punch line is "only for a chocolate biscuit" but in a sing-song voice in heavily accent English. So great.
The next day, Evelyn went off with some friends of hers she met in Berlin that also live in Edinburgh, and I went on a tour with Lewis and Chris, and Chris does tours for a hostel so he was very well-informed. Highlights included, the cafe where J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, Edinburgh Castle featuring statues of William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, the "Thistle Do" Shop (I said, oh like Braveheart, and Lewis said, "yeah, we actually got our national flower from that movie. And Mel Gibson's our prime minister now.") and the tax emblem that all the Scots spit on because it used to be where they had to pay taxes to England. It was super quaint and there were children in the meadows playing rugby and soccer, and everyone is so friendly. I might move immediately.
It was a great weekend, despite the 7 am flight back, and me, like an idiot, getting on the wrong train and going through bumble-fuck nowhere German countryside before finding my way back to Berlin. The whole ordeal took about 2 hours. Ooops!
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Home Again
In my past posts you've heard me complain that some of the French are less than friendly... I have heard that Parisians have this wretched reputation and thus was somewhat hesitant about my decision to go...however, what I expected was to be proven completely wrong as most stereotypes often are. Like, "How could I ever have misunderstood?!" but in fact, this stereotype is correct. The French--especially the Parisians--are ASSHOLES. I think it's a conspiracy. Paris is so beautiful, and the first day I was walking through thinking, "Why doesn't EVERYONE live here?!" The Parisians relize this would be the consenus. So I imagine they think, "We must keep zeese 'orrible tourists from swarming our beautiful city! 'Ow can we do zis? Ah, we will be ass'oles to all of zem and zen zey will not come back." Mission Accomplished. As beautiful as Paris is, trust me, I'll be combing the German country-side before I curse myself to deal with their bullshit again.
I last wrote Wednesday, in bewteen my multitide of classes...but after my bright. blood-red, Parisian makeover. Thursday, I had no class and spent the day, by myself, exploring the Musee D'Orsay and the Centre Pompidou, the modern museum. Even though I was alone I kept running into people from the trip, so I'd be staring at this giant mounted cloth vagina (definitely the modern art musuem) and suddenly Laurel would be next to me. The Musee D'Orsay was easily one of my favorite things the entire trip. I took about a million pictures of the Van Gough's and Monets, which in person, are so breathtakingly beautiful the prints look like finger paintings. And the Centre Pompidou, well the building looks like a giant hamster tunnel. And the art itself, was all done by women in some sort of Feminism exhibit. Which was really cool sometimes, but bizarre in others. Cool, movie poster of "The Birth of Feminism" staring Pam Anderson as Gloria Steinem, bizarre, footage of a women in a Burka riding a stationary bike. It was like that, some of the stuff was very cool and tongue-in-cheek feminist, and some of it was like, "wait? What?!"
Thursday night was also a huge amount of fun. About 13 kids from IES went to this International Students Club. First, however, we wanted to sit at a bar and have some wine, there was this sign that said, "Flam's Restaurant" and we were like, "We must eat here!" Mike was on fire cracking jokes like, "Man, why do you always want to go to Flam's after the game?" or "I want to take you out to Flam's!" which don't sound funny now as I write them, but in the situation I was doubled over laughing. And so our group was like, "With a name like Flam's we have to go in." The joke got even better, because they wouldn't seat us. They said our group was too big, but that was could STAND COLLECTIVELY IN A CORNER and be served beer, while loitering over people's food. Essentially, we were denied access from FLAM'S, which is basically Belgian Applebee's. So to us, that was hysterical. And we then went to the quintesstial, adorable French bar, but we kept on saying, "I don't know, it's no Flams's". And then we went to this club, again the joke continued, with us comenting, "we got into the club as a group of 13...but not Flam's." The club itself, as I said, was an international students club, so it was all tourists and lame (we wore stickers with our home country's flag)--but it was a good time and everyone in the group was getting along and having fun.
Friday was my frantic scramble to get everything I hadn't done and seen in. I went to Napoleon's Tomb with Kai, Kyle, Sam, and Steve. And then we had Thai Curry for lunch, which, admitedly, failed at being very French. Then I went to the Pantheon on my own to see Victor Hugo's tomb, also there in the crypt, Voltaire, Rousseau, and Dumas. Then I went and traipsed around Gallery LaFayette, lusting over the expensive designer items I will never be able to afford. After a delicious dinner at Plan B, (complete with Red Wine, thanks IES!) I went with Jessica to a little cafe to have wine and people watch. All in All, it was an amazing little get-a-way, although Berlin is friendlier, cheaper, and way more fun. One of the best aspects of the trip though, was getting to spend time and socialize with people from IES I don't normally hang out with, which is mainly a proximity issue. Everyone on the trip is really interesting in their own way, and really funny to be around. I, however, am looking forward to being able to walk down the street without being looked at like a walking piece of Dog shit (thanks for the confidence boost parisian women!). P.S. New York is still better!
I last wrote Wednesday, in bewteen my multitide of classes...but after my bright. blood-red, Parisian makeover. Thursday, I had no class and spent the day, by myself, exploring the Musee D'Orsay and the Centre Pompidou, the modern museum. Even though I was alone I kept running into people from the trip, so I'd be staring at this giant mounted cloth vagina (definitely the modern art musuem) and suddenly Laurel would be next to me. The Musee D'Orsay was easily one of my favorite things the entire trip. I took about a million pictures of the Van Gough's and Monets, which in person, are so breathtakingly beautiful the prints look like finger paintings. And the Centre Pompidou, well the building looks like a giant hamster tunnel. And the art itself, was all done by women in some sort of Feminism exhibit. Which was really cool sometimes, but bizarre in others. Cool, movie poster of "The Birth of Feminism" staring Pam Anderson as Gloria Steinem, bizarre, footage of a women in a Burka riding a stationary bike. It was like that, some of the stuff was very cool and tongue-in-cheek feminist, and some of it was like, "wait? What?!"
Thursday night was also a huge amount of fun. About 13 kids from IES went to this International Students Club. First, however, we wanted to sit at a bar and have some wine, there was this sign that said, "Flam's Restaurant" and we were like, "We must eat here!" Mike was on fire cracking jokes like, "Man, why do you always want to go to Flam's after the game?" or "I want to take you out to Flam's!" which don't sound funny now as I write them, but in the situation I was doubled over laughing. And so our group was like, "With a name like Flam's we have to go in." The joke got even better, because they wouldn't seat us. They said our group was too big, but that was could STAND COLLECTIVELY IN A CORNER and be served beer, while loitering over people's food. Essentially, we were denied access from FLAM'S, which is basically Belgian Applebee's. So to us, that was hysterical. And we then went to the quintesstial, adorable French bar, but we kept on saying, "I don't know, it's no Flams's". And then we went to this club, again the joke continued, with us comenting, "we got into the club as a group of 13...but not Flam's." The club itself, as I said, was an international students club, so it was all tourists and lame (we wore stickers with our home country's flag)--but it was a good time and everyone in the group was getting along and having fun.
Friday was my frantic scramble to get everything I hadn't done and seen in. I went to Napoleon's Tomb with Kai, Kyle, Sam, and Steve. And then we had Thai Curry for lunch, which, admitedly, failed at being very French. Then I went to the Pantheon on my own to see Victor Hugo's tomb, also there in the crypt, Voltaire, Rousseau, and Dumas. Then I went and traipsed around Gallery LaFayette, lusting over the expensive designer items I will never be able to afford. After a delicious dinner at Plan B, (complete with Red Wine, thanks IES!) I went with Jessica to a little cafe to have wine and people watch. All in All, it was an amazing little get-a-way, although Berlin is friendlier, cheaper, and way more fun. One of the best aspects of the trip though, was getting to spend time and socialize with people from IES I don't normally hang out with, which is mainly a proximity issue. Everyone on the trip is really interesting in their own way, and really funny to be around. I, however, am looking forward to being able to walk down the street without being looked at like a walking piece of Dog shit (thanks for the confidence boost parisian women!). P.S. New York is still better!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
En Paris...
Sorry, this will have to be short. I am, as we speak, in Paris, sitting in the basement of IES abroad Paris office. Thank God I am at IES Berlin. The computer lab of IES Paris is soooo old. I think this computer is from 1992. It miiiiight have a DOS operating system. I think if I print something I will have to tear off the edges. It's THAT old.
Speaking of Old things, I am loving it in Gay Paris! Since I've arrived its been a charmed trip. Firstly, not only did I get the window seat on the flight over, but I also got the emergency exit row, meaning lots of extra leg room. In addition, the flight was at night and as we landed I saw the Eiffel Tower, lit up, and twinkling. It only twinkles once every hour. And we got it on our descent. Magic. Following that lucky streak, I also had my own room in the hotel. That first night I went with a couple IES people to a small creperie and sat and had crepes and red wine. So...continuing the stream of good luck, the next morning the sky was a beautiful blue, not a cloud, and it was warm and breezy. Extra good news because we had an open top bus tour of the city, which would have sucked in rain and cold. After the tour, Steve, Quinn and I walked to the Bastille, which was about an hour trek, but it was gorgeous. We went to Notre Dame and took pictures, parused the little shops (I bought a mirrored compact with the quintessential Victorian French Pin-Up. She's topless AND has hairy pitts) and watched skateboarders while eating yet more crepes slathered in nutella. As a group we had a delcious meal of pastry and mushroom, beef, and apple tarts for desert. To cap off the perfect French day, after dinner, I drank some champagne and walked to the Eiffel Tower to watch it twinkle and drink along the banks of the Seine. C'est parfait!
Tuesday (Yesterday) our group went to Versailles and the good weather continued. I got tons of pictures of the palace and the gardens, my favorites being Steve, Kyle, and Mike as the angle statues in the garden complete with frollicking, and Steve and Me in a picture reflected in the hall of mirrors flashing gang signs. After Versailles I sat in a cafe and had coffee with IES people. It's so great to people watch in Paris. Everyone is so chic. It's not at all like Berlin. Berlin is dull and cloudy and the people are bohemian... in Paris it's light and airy and the men and the women have SUCH style. It's honestly a feast for the eyes. Everywhere you turn there are breathtakingly beautiful people, buildings, and views. As a group we met for a boat tour along the seine, which wasn't as picturesque as it sounds. It was a little campy and cold. Afterwards, Sam and I went to St. Suplice, which is a small church featured in "The Divinci Code" which has the Prime Meridian marked. We ended up late for dinner as a result, much to Heather's dismay.
Today I had 3 classes, which have been at IES. In my short break I went shopping and had a makeover, Parisian style at a cosmetic counter. Complete with kohl eyes and BRIGHT red lipstick. I have been strutting around feeling like hot shit all day. Some of the Parisians have most definitely been feasting their eyes upon me! I know this is woefully short and I'll try to fill in some details. I have class now... it's been amazing and I will post pictures! I am going to a Parisian bar tonight, my first real taste of nightlife, so we'll see what I make of it. Au Revoir!
Speaking of Old things, I am loving it in Gay Paris! Since I've arrived its been a charmed trip. Firstly, not only did I get the window seat on the flight over, but I also got the emergency exit row, meaning lots of extra leg room. In addition, the flight was at night and as we landed I saw the Eiffel Tower, lit up, and twinkling. It only twinkles once every hour. And we got it on our descent. Magic. Following that lucky streak, I also had my own room in the hotel. That first night I went with a couple IES people to a small creperie and sat and had crepes and red wine. So...continuing the stream of good luck, the next morning the sky was a beautiful blue, not a cloud, and it was warm and breezy. Extra good news because we had an open top bus tour of the city, which would have sucked in rain and cold. After the tour, Steve, Quinn and I walked to the Bastille, which was about an hour trek, but it was gorgeous. We went to Notre Dame and took pictures, parused the little shops (I bought a mirrored compact with the quintessential Victorian French Pin-Up. She's topless AND has hairy pitts) and watched skateboarders while eating yet more crepes slathered in nutella. As a group we had a delcious meal of pastry and mushroom, beef, and apple tarts for desert. To cap off the perfect French day, after dinner, I drank some champagne and walked to the Eiffel Tower to watch it twinkle and drink along the banks of the Seine. C'est parfait!
Tuesday (Yesterday) our group went to Versailles and the good weather continued. I got tons of pictures of the palace and the gardens, my favorites being Steve, Kyle, and Mike as the angle statues in the garden complete with frollicking, and Steve and Me in a picture reflected in the hall of mirrors flashing gang signs. After Versailles I sat in a cafe and had coffee with IES people. It's so great to people watch in Paris. Everyone is so chic. It's not at all like Berlin. Berlin is dull and cloudy and the people are bohemian... in Paris it's light and airy and the men and the women have SUCH style. It's honestly a feast for the eyes. Everywhere you turn there are breathtakingly beautiful people, buildings, and views. As a group we met for a boat tour along the seine, which wasn't as picturesque as it sounds. It was a little campy and cold. Afterwards, Sam and I went to St. Suplice, which is a small church featured in "The Divinci Code" which has the Prime Meridian marked. We ended up late for dinner as a result, much to Heather's dismay.
Today I had 3 classes, which have been at IES. In my short break I went shopping and had a makeover, Parisian style at a cosmetic counter. Complete with kohl eyes and BRIGHT red lipstick. I have been strutting around feeling like hot shit all day. Some of the Parisians have most definitely been feasting their eyes upon me! I know this is woefully short and I'll try to fill in some details. I have class now... it's been amazing and I will post pictures! I am going to a Parisian bar tonight, my first real taste of nightlife, so we'll see what I make of it. Au Revoir!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Off to Paris
So, I survived Midterms, (actually I think I did pretty well on them!) and today in a few hours I will be jetting off to Paris for the week. I have to admit, I am pretty excited. The bitter Siberian cold has finally broken here--it's been in the mid-forties (which feels practically balmy) and occasionally one will even see the sun. Obviously, I have to be careful when this happens, I'm so used to the gloom and clouds that I'm not entirely sure I won't crumble to ash when faced with direct sun exposure. Actually, my enjoyment of the great weather has been somewhat hindered by a nasty head cold I've contracted. I went to the Apoteke and the guy has me taking 6 pills a day for it so it better break soon. I really hope it doesn't interfere with my trip. Nothing says, "Paris Je t'aime" like a coughing fit in front of the Eiffel tower right?
Friday night because of my cold I stayed in and rested. But yesterday, the weather felt so warm and I was so sick of being cooped up--which scares me because I think I'm adopting the German concept of "fresh air"--I got on the S-Bahn and headed to the city center with absolutely no idea of what I was going to do. I recently got a camera that works, so I intended to take some pictures of the street around IES and Museum Island, but that was about it. And then since I was by Museum Island, I was like, well, I guess I better go to a museum. So I called Sam to see if he wanted to meet me, since he lives right in the area, and he did, so he and I headed to the "Neues Museum" to see the bust of Nefertiti. It was the most amazingly beautiful breathtaking thing I have ever seen in my life. I've seen it so many times on the history channel or in books or whatever, to see something that old, that famous, and still that pretty--it really takes your breath away. Also, there were a bunch of mummys and hieroglyphics and other really impressive stuff. My favorite was the jewelry...I try to tell myself it's because it's so intricate and I can imagine the lives of the people who would have worn it. I secretly suspect I might just be a Jewish Princess though. I tried to take pictures to accurately capture some of the artifacts, but my picture taking ability is poor at best...I wish I had a knack for it. Alas...
So after the museum, I came home and fixed dinner, then Steve and Sam and Kyle and I met up in Charlotteberg at the "Haus Der 100 Biere" which, true to it's name, does have 100 beers. I was partial to Satan, a Belgian beer that was 8% alcohol and so thick that it felt like drinking dissolved bread, which actually I mean as a positive. But hey, I mean, it was no Naty Light or PBR or anything. It was a really chill night just talking and hanging out with the guys, which I always love to do. We talked about Paris, which most of us have already visited, and what we're excited to do and what we're not. I really want to see the Musee d'Orsay. I have visited the Louvre, and it was beautiful, don't get me wrong, but I prefer Van Gough and Impressionist work anyway, so I'm excited to see that. I also want to check out the Rodin museum. It will be so niiiiiiiiiice to have more free time to explore, last time with Mr. Jordan every SECOND was planned, so this time I'm pretty stoked that I have whole days just to roam around Paris as I please. And yes Charisse, I'll have a chocolate croissant for you!
Au Revoir my loves, I'm taking my computer so I'll try to keep everyone updated and I'll also try to make it more interesting than this post was. It's first thing in the morning and the cat is scratching my head...it's not conducive to the usual masterpieces I create. Bon Voyage!
Friday night because of my cold I stayed in and rested. But yesterday, the weather felt so warm and I was so sick of being cooped up--which scares me because I think I'm adopting the German concept of "fresh air"--I got on the S-Bahn and headed to the city center with absolutely no idea of what I was going to do. I recently got a camera that works, so I intended to take some pictures of the street around IES and Museum Island, but that was about it. And then since I was by Museum Island, I was like, well, I guess I better go to a museum. So I called Sam to see if he wanted to meet me, since he lives right in the area, and he did, so he and I headed to the "Neues Museum" to see the bust of Nefertiti. It was the most amazingly beautiful breathtaking thing I have ever seen in my life. I've seen it so many times on the history channel or in books or whatever, to see something that old, that famous, and still that pretty--it really takes your breath away. Also, there were a bunch of mummys and hieroglyphics and other really impressive stuff. My favorite was the jewelry...I try to tell myself it's because it's so intricate and I can imagine the lives of the people who would have worn it. I secretly suspect I might just be a Jewish Princess though. I tried to take pictures to accurately capture some of the artifacts, but my picture taking ability is poor at best...I wish I had a knack for it. Alas...
So after the museum, I came home and fixed dinner, then Steve and Sam and Kyle and I met up in Charlotteberg at the "Haus Der 100 Biere" which, true to it's name, does have 100 beers. I was partial to Satan, a Belgian beer that was 8% alcohol and so thick that it felt like drinking dissolved bread, which actually I mean as a positive. But hey, I mean, it was no Naty Light or PBR or anything. It was a really chill night just talking and hanging out with the guys, which I always love to do. We talked about Paris, which most of us have already visited, and what we're excited to do and what we're not. I really want to see the Musee d'Orsay. I have visited the Louvre, and it was beautiful, don't get me wrong, but I prefer Van Gough and Impressionist work anyway, so I'm excited to see that. I also want to check out the Rodin museum. It will be so niiiiiiiiiice to have more free time to explore, last time with Mr. Jordan every SECOND was planned, so this time I'm pretty stoked that I have whole days just to roam around Paris as I please. And yes Charisse, I'll have a chocolate croissant for you!
Au Revoir my loves, I'm taking my computer so I'll try to keep everyone updated and I'll also try to make it more interesting than this post was. It's first thing in the morning and the cat is scratching my head...it's not conducive to the usual masterpieces I create. Bon Voyage!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Dreary Wednesday
I started this week in a fantastic mood. I was coming off of a great weekend in Stockholm and very much looking forward to the Paris trip this Sunday. Also, this is Midterm week, and I know it makes me abnormal in a lot of ways to say this, but I love exams! I usually do really well at them, I have very effective study skills that allow me to study for short periods of time, and then I get the rest of the week chock full of extra free-time and no homework. And on top of everything else, teachers seem to think we're going to buckle under the stress of exams and go postal, so they are super super nice. Like today, my identity teacher brought us chocolate. Why? Just because. Seriously, I love exams. Also, the weather on Monday seemed to be taking a turn for the better. It was a balmy 44 degrees farenheit and sunny. I've seen the sun maybe 3 times since I've been here, and even though I'm not someone who covets and craves sun time (I'm a pasty pasty vampire), I can't deny it lifts ones spirits to be in the sunshine after dreary winter weather. So I was feeling good all around. I had one exam Monday, and none on Tuesday so I devoted the time to wondering around and seeing the city, just walking, since it's been so cold that such an activity has previously been impossible.
Bleakness quickly emerged however. My camera is broken. Well, not broken per se, because it works, only for 2 minutes and then the battery dies, no matter how long it's been plugged in and charging. No big deal, I thought, I'll just go to the electronic store and get a new battery. I did that Monday. Turns out it wasn't the battery. Takes a beautiful picture, then 2 minutes later can't turn it on. So okay, I reasoned, must be the charger. Yesterday I went to Saturn to get the charger. The guy told me that I didn't need a new charger, just to get an adapter for the plug. In short, he thought I was so stupid that I didn't realize the American plugs didn't fit into the European ports and as a result I thought the charger was broken. I had to assure him like six hundred times I wasn't a complete moron. And even then I was like, "Es ist kapputt" (it is broken) and he's like, "are you sure?" No, actually I haven't bothered to check. Of course I'm sure? Did you think I hauled my ass here for fun or something? So after this whole song and dance he doesn't have it. Try this other store location. I go there. No dice. They say, go to the actual Sony store (I had been going to Saturn, the German Best Buy basically). So today I went there. This charger for the particular model of camera I have doesn't exist. It was discontinued. WHY WHY WHY?! I swear the electronic people do this on purpose so if one thing goes wrong you have to buy an entire new product. Like you can't replace ipod batteries, if it dies you need a new ipod. Not to mention, what are they, like on the 3 millionth model? Each with it's own catchy indie rock commercial. Fascists. Anyway, I ended up just buying a new Sony camera because you can't go to Paris and not take pictures right? And I don't even know if disposable cameras exist anymore. So I dropped a bunch of money on a something that should have been easily fixed. Damn it, I think my family is cursed with cameras. Jeanie went through like 7 on her travels, mine was stolen when I lent it to my mom, this one broke... someone doesn't want our memories recorded for posterity's sake. I'll tell you that much.
So, my mood, which was jubilant this morning because I received a lovely care package from Charisse...has subsided to more of a dull cynicism. Which, all things considered, is probably pretty good for me. I have another exam here at 6:15, for Literature and Film, which will no doubt be an epic production, but afterward our teacher has kindly agreed to take us out for beer. Even though, let's be honest, I'm not that keen on spending even MORE time with her, beer is beer. And German beer is delicious. :-)
Bleakness quickly emerged however. My camera is broken. Well, not broken per se, because it works, only for 2 minutes and then the battery dies, no matter how long it's been plugged in and charging. No big deal, I thought, I'll just go to the electronic store and get a new battery. I did that Monday. Turns out it wasn't the battery. Takes a beautiful picture, then 2 minutes later can't turn it on. So okay, I reasoned, must be the charger. Yesterday I went to Saturn to get the charger. The guy told me that I didn't need a new charger, just to get an adapter for the plug. In short, he thought I was so stupid that I didn't realize the American plugs didn't fit into the European ports and as a result I thought the charger was broken. I had to assure him like six hundred times I wasn't a complete moron. And even then I was like, "Es ist kapputt" (it is broken) and he's like, "are you sure?" No, actually I haven't bothered to check. Of course I'm sure? Did you think I hauled my ass here for fun or something? So after this whole song and dance he doesn't have it. Try this other store location. I go there. No dice. They say, go to the actual Sony store (I had been going to Saturn, the German Best Buy basically). So today I went there. This charger for the particular model of camera I have doesn't exist. It was discontinued. WHY WHY WHY?! I swear the electronic people do this on purpose so if one thing goes wrong you have to buy an entire new product. Like you can't replace ipod batteries, if it dies you need a new ipod. Not to mention, what are they, like on the 3 millionth model? Each with it's own catchy indie rock commercial. Fascists. Anyway, I ended up just buying a new Sony camera because you can't go to Paris and not take pictures right? And I don't even know if disposable cameras exist anymore. So I dropped a bunch of money on a something that should have been easily fixed. Damn it, I think my family is cursed with cameras. Jeanie went through like 7 on her travels, mine was stolen when I lent it to my mom, this one broke... someone doesn't want our memories recorded for posterity's sake. I'll tell you that much.
So, my mood, which was jubilant this morning because I received a lovely care package from Charisse...has subsided to more of a dull cynicism. Which, all things considered, is probably pretty good for me. I have another exam here at 6:15, for Literature and Film, which will no doubt be an epic production, but afterward our teacher has kindly agreed to take us out for beer. Even though, let's be honest, I'm not that keen on spending even MORE time with her, beer is beer. And German beer is delicious. :-)
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Stockholm Syndrome!
To My loyal blog readers (and those who casually happen upon it):
I know it's been forever since I last blogged, which is actually a very positive sign for my state of mind. It means instead of merely writing about Berlin I have been out truly enjoying it. I don't want to leave! And.......without further ado, here I continue my blog. Stockholm baby!
As most of you know, this weekend, I went to Stockholm with Evelyn, a girl from the program who is in my German class. Now, I wanted this weekend actually to go to Edinburgh, my interest in which was based on the fact that the two things I know that came from Scotland are awesome, 1) The band "The Fratellis" 2) Braveheart. Baam! Buuuut I couldn't find anyone who wanted to go to Scotland with me, and due to my lovely physical appearance, trusting nature, and ability to be easily tricked traveling by myself might be the worst idea ever. Still, I really wanted to get out of Berlin and take advantage of Europe being small (which it really isn't, all Americans think it's just like a bigger Epcot Center but actually it takes forever to get from place to place, like it's 7 hours or so by train to Munich, maybe longer) and travel. Stockholm has never really been my idea of a great time (or in my ideas that prominently at all for that matter) but I figured, what the hell, and asked Evelyn if I could tag along with her to Stockholm, a trip she had already planned. We left for the airport on Thursday Night at about 7, our flight took off at 9:30, and by about 10:45 we had landed in Stockholm. YAY! Just kidding. My first overwhelming feeling was kind of panic. I have been some place where I didn't speak A WORD of the language. A WORD. Even if I went to Japan I know how to say "hi" and "thank you" and things like that. But not a single Swedish word. Oh and there currency is insane. Typical price for a meal 89 SEK. What is that?! I literally was afraid when we landed and I bought my bus ticket for 180 SEK that I had agreed to spend like $800 or something. Yeah and I had to buy a bus ticket because the Stockholm airport to which Ryan Air flies into (the no frills airline) is ONE AND A HALF hours from the city itself. ONE AND A HALF. So Evelyn and I pile on to the bus, and we see there is a movie playing, and the movie is "Saturday Night Fever", always, in my experience, a bad omen. Finally we reach the central station. We go to Central Terminal, already having decided instead of taking a cab to our hostel like chickens, we are just going to go balls out and take the train. I have a terrible sense of direction, as you all know, but I am EXCELLENT at navigating subways. I don't know why it's ever hard for people, but it's super easy to me. I looked at a map, saw we were going on the red line to someplace starting with an S, and bought a 72 pass card and descended with Evelyn to the platform. Um. Track 1: heading to Skaaaardsnald, Track 2: Slussel Track 3: Soobgenfug. No colors. Damn. So we ask someone, and he's like oh you want the T-Station, that's not here. Cool, where is it? Down the bridge on the left. We walk outside, there are 3 bridges. Again, Damn. When we finally find the T-Station like 20 minutes later I was so excited we did a picture of me in front of it making a T with my arms.
When we finally got to the hostel, it was probably 12:45, and it was a door on the side of a drugstore with ACCO HOSTEL written on it in black lettering, like the kind I used in high school for my cheerleading garage door sign. It did NOT look legit. And, there was no check-in. They sent you an e-mail prior to departing with the door codes to get into the hostel, into your room and then they gave us a bed number each. No front desk of any kind. So we get inside, enter our codes to our room, and the room already has people sleeping in it, and is pitch black. There are 5 Ikea bunk beds with white sheets. THAT'S IT. Weirder, when I first open the door the first thing we see is a skinny, hair guy, with black curly hair, laying on the bed face down, with gray tighty-whiteys and his ass (crack and all) in the air. Evelyn and I threw down our stuff and just decided to find a good bar on the hostel street to go to. We changed and got ready to go, and on our way out we bumped into this group of Italians hanging out by the bathroom, and we talked to them and asked them where was good to go get a drink. That's the great thing about Hostels, everyone is super friendly and from everywhere and willing to chat. They gave us some tips and we set off. We walk down and the street to where they told us to go, and unfortunately it closed at 1:00 and it's like 1:05 now. So I'm like, shit, okay, what now? So this group of guys pass by and I just asked them and they're like "we're going to this cocktail bar here, wanna come?" so we went there and hung out, and to a club afterward and then crashed back at the hostel.
I woke up Friday morning to the sound of heavily male voices in heavily-accented English. This is always a good sign in my experience. I am programed to be attracted like a moth to the flame to any sort of UK accent. So I walked over to the other side of the room and introduced myself, and starting chatting with them. It was a group of like 7 of them from Edinburgh, and I'm like, great, Edinburgh came to us! So while Evelyn went to take her lovely lovely communal shower, I was talking with the guys, and asking them if they would recommend visiting Edinburgh. And they were so funny. The combination of the accents, plus sarcasm, plus them being attractive guys was pretty potent. Like they told me they had tried to convince this American girl they met the other day in a club that Scotland was really ass backwards, so they told her they only just like 10 years ago got telephones and electricity and that their currency, "the Scottish Pound" was a pound of rocks with numbers painted on them. And then we were chatting about the hostel, which had this strict 50 SEK (like 5 Euros, SEK is 10x the Euro, and then 5 Euros is about 7.5$) for sleeping in the wrong numbered bed and also said, "no drinking, no smoking, no parties" on the door, so in heavily accented Scottish one of the guys did an impression of a Polish (because he does a good Polish accent not because anyone was in fact Polish) accent saying, "You want have fun, 100 SEK fine! You open window, 200 SEK! First day of breath is free and then you must pay 1 SEK per breath!" And then the originally curly haired guy that was the first person I saw with his crack in the air, was like, "yeah last night we went to McDonalds and ordered 100 cheeseburgers. And the guy was like, 'what do you really want' and I was like, 'I'm sorry I'm being a dick. I want 100 cheeseburgers." And the night before apparently one of the other guys, Sean, was doing Mitch Headberg impressions, really badly, and it was just so much fun. My ribs hurt from laughing. And they were just like that, loud, funny, and dirty.
So, Evelyn and I went to go get breakfast and go to museums and we told the guys we'd meet up with them later and go out together. And we went to the Vasa Museum which is this great 17th century ship that sunk in Stockholm harbor and was excavated 333 years later and since the water was brackish it was preserved really well and so now the whole ship is displayed at this museum and it's really really cool and Evelyn and I took about a million pictures. It also had the skeletal remains of some of the passengers aboard that died when it sunk and they reconstructed their faces using wax. It was so amazing. Oh, but the best part was the Sweden: 1628 exhibit which was supposed to show what life in Sweden at the time the ship sunk was like. And it had little vignettes staged with phrases like, "Olaf negotiates with Sven over the barrel of herring. Exquisite delicious herring are on the top but rotten, smaller herring are at the bottom." I was STRONGLY reminded of Rose from St. Olaf on the Golden Girls. Then we went to the Nordic Museum, which was ridiculous. It had traditional folk art, toys, houses, Swedish traditions, and then, randomly this exhibit about washing machines featuring notes in Swedish that said, "please clean out the lint trap my panties don't need dog hair in them!" with English translations beside them. And it's like, wait, what?!
So after going to the museums in the FREEZING cold (Stockholm was about -15 degrees Celsius compared to Berlin's 3 or 4 degrees) we had some coffee and met up with the Scottish boys again and went to this weird techno club. And Sean and Chris thought it was hilarious to keep creeping up behind me and sniffing my hair to freak me out, and Lewis and I chatted about his sheep farm on the Isle of Lewis (Bain told me "Lewis's mum had no imagination hence his name") and Bain kept singing Gold Digger and then complaining that "Swedish girls are dead beautiful but their fuckin' stuck up, mate. Like Scottish girls are game for a laugh, this is shit I want to go home. I'm a lad's lad I can't be bothered with this poufer music." And Evelyn and I danced and it was awesome awesome.
Saturday, Evelyn and I woke up and decided to wonder round Gamla Stan, which is the old town and has beautiful architecture and winding streets and is atop this hill. It was SO cold, so we kept walking ducking into shops and we took pictures of the weird mittens and kitch viking souvenir stuff that was on sale. It was a really relaxed fun day, culminating in us chilling back at the hostel with the Scots again, going to a bar, then another bar, then Evelyn and I catching the bus back at 3:45 to get to the airport at 5, to board our plane which left at 6:55. We were tired and crabby by the time we got home (about 9:30 for me) and I dived into bed, woke up, and here I am now. It was an amazing weekend but I'm really glad to be back in balmy Berlin, where at least I can speak/read the language.
I have midterms tomorrow, which obviously I'm not stoked about but it should be a nice week because we have like one class a day and then next week--Paris. Which I hope is OK, because this trip has taught me I don't always do well with French people... nurrm :-/
I know it's been forever since I last blogged, which is actually a very positive sign for my state of mind. It means instead of merely writing about Berlin I have been out truly enjoying it. I don't want to leave! And.......without further ado, here I continue my blog. Stockholm baby!
As most of you know, this weekend, I went to Stockholm with Evelyn, a girl from the program who is in my German class. Now, I wanted this weekend actually to go to Edinburgh, my interest in which was based on the fact that the two things I know that came from Scotland are awesome, 1) The band "The Fratellis" 2) Braveheart. Baam! Buuuut I couldn't find anyone who wanted to go to Scotland with me, and due to my lovely physical appearance, trusting nature, and ability to be easily tricked traveling by myself might be the worst idea ever. Still, I really wanted to get out of Berlin and take advantage of Europe being small (which it really isn't, all Americans think it's just like a bigger Epcot Center but actually it takes forever to get from place to place, like it's 7 hours or so by train to Munich, maybe longer) and travel. Stockholm has never really been my idea of a great time (or in my ideas that prominently at all for that matter) but I figured, what the hell, and asked Evelyn if I could tag along with her to Stockholm, a trip she had already planned. We left for the airport on Thursday Night at about 7, our flight took off at 9:30, and by about 10:45 we had landed in Stockholm. YAY! Just kidding. My first overwhelming feeling was kind of panic. I have been some place where I didn't speak A WORD of the language. A WORD. Even if I went to Japan I know how to say "hi" and "thank you" and things like that. But not a single Swedish word. Oh and there currency is insane. Typical price for a meal 89 SEK. What is that?! I literally was afraid when we landed and I bought my bus ticket for 180 SEK that I had agreed to spend like $800 or something. Yeah and I had to buy a bus ticket because the Stockholm airport to which Ryan Air flies into (the no frills airline) is ONE AND A HALF hours from the city itself. ONE AND A HALF. So Evelyn and I pile on to the bus, and we see there is a movie playing, and the movie is "Saturday Night Fever", always, in my experience, a bad omen. Finally we reach the central station. We go to Central Terminal, already having decided instead of taking a cab to our hostel like chickens, we are just going to go balls out and take the train. I have a terrible sense of direction, as you all know, but I am EXCELLENT at navigating subways. I don't know why it's ever hard for people, but it's super easy to me. I looked at a map, saw we were going on the red line to someplace starting with an S, and bought a 72 pass card and descended with Evelyn to the platform. Um. Track 1: heading to Skaaaardsnald, Track 2: Slussel Track 3: Soobgenfug. No colors. Damn. So we ask someone, and he's like oh you want the T-Station, that's not here. Cool, where is it? Down the bridge on the left. We walk outside, there are 3 bridges. Again, Damn. When we finally find the T-Station like 20 minutes later I was so excited we did a picture of me in front of it making a T with my arms.
When we finally got to the hostel, it was probably 12:45, and it was a door on the side of a drugstore with ACCO HOSTEL written on it in black lettering, like the kind I used in high school for my cheerleading garage door sign. It did NOT look legit. And, there was no check-in. They sent you an e-mail prior to departing with the door codes to get into the hostel, into your room and then they gave us a bed number each. No front desk of any kind. So we get inside, enter our codes to our room, and the room already has people sleeping in it, and is pitch black. There are 5 Ikea bunk beds with white sheets. THAT'S IT. Weirder, when I first open the door the first thing we see is a skinny, hair guy, with black curly hair, laying on the bed face down, with gray tighty-whiteys and his ass (crack and all) in the air. Evelyn and I threw down our stuff and just decided to find a good bar on the hostel street to go to. We changed and got ready to go, and on our way out we bumped into this group of Italians hanging out by the bathroom, and we talked to them and asked them where was good to go get a drink. That's the great thing about Hostels, everyone is super friendly and from everywhere and willing to chat. They gave us some tips and we set off. We walk down and the street to where they told us to go, and unfortunately it closed at 1:00 and it's like 1:05 now. So I'm like, shit, okay, what now? So this group of guys pass by and I just asked them and they're like "we're going to this cocktail bar here, wanna come?" so we went there and hung out, and to a club afterward and then crashed back at the hostel.
I woke up Friday morning to the sound of heavily male voices in heavily-accented English. This is always a good sign in my experience. I am programed to be attracted like a moth to the flame to any sort of UK accent. So I walked over to the other side of the room and introduced myself, and starting chatting with them. It was a group of like 7 of them from Edinburgh, and I'm like, great, Edinburgh came to us! So while Evelyn went to take her lovely lovely communal shower, I was talking with the guys, and asking them if they would recommend visiting Edinburgh. And they were so funny. The combination of the accents, plus sarcasm, plus them being attractive guys was pretty potent. Like they told me they had tried to convince this American girl they met the other day in a club that Scotland was really ass backwards, so they told her they only just like 10 years ago got telephones and electricity and that their currency, "the Scottish Pound" was a pound of rocks with numbers painted on them. And then we were chatting about the hostel, which had this strict 50 SEK (like 5 Euros, SEK is 10x the Euro, and then 5 Euros is about 7.5$) for sleeping in the wrong numbered bed and also said, "no drinking, no smoking, no parties" on the door, so in heavily accented Scottish one of the guys did an impression of a Polish (because he does a good Polish accent not because anyone was in fact Polish) accent saying, "You want have fun, 100 SEK fine! You open window, 200 SEK! First day of breath is free and then you must pay 1 SEK per breath!" And then the originally curly haired guy that was the first person I saw with his crack in the air, was like, "yeah last night we went to McDonalds and ordered 100 cheeseburgers. And the guy was like, 'what do you really want' and I was like, 'I'm sorry I'm being a dick. I want 100 cheeseburgers." And the night before apparently one of the other guys, Sean, was doing Mitch Headberg impressions, really badly, and it was just so much fun. My ribs hurt from laughing. And they were just like that, loud, funny, and dirty.
So, Evelyn and I went to go get breakfast and go to museums and we told the guys we'd meet up with them later and go out together. And we went to the Vasa Museum which is this great 17th century ship that sunk in Stockholm harbor and was excavated 333 years later and since the water was brackish it was preserved really well and so now the whole ship is displayed at this museum and it's really really cool and Evelyn and I took about a million pictures. It also had the skeletal remains of some of the passengers aboard that died when it sunk and they reconstructed their faces using wax. It was so amazing. Oh, but the best part was the Sweden: 1628 exhibit which was supposed to show what life in Sweden at the time the ship sunk was like. And it had little vignettes staged with phrases like, "Olaf negotiates with Sven over the barrel of herring. Exquisite delicious herring are on the top but rotten, smaller herring are at the bottom." I was STRONGLY reminded of Rose from St. Olaf on the Golden Girls. Then we went to the Nordic Museum, which was ridiculous. It had traditional folk art, toys, houses, Swedish traditions, and then, randomly this exhibit about washing machines featuring notes in Swedish that said, "please clean out the lint trap my panties don't need dog hair in them!" with English translations beside them. And it's like, wait, what?!
So after going to the museums in the FREEZING cold (Stockholm was about -15 degrees Celsius compared to Berlin's 3 or 4 degrees) we had some coffee and met up with the Scottish boys again and went to this weird techno club. And Sean and Chris thought it was hilarious to keep creeping up behind me and sniffing my hair to freak me out, and Lewis and I chatted about his sheep farm on the Isle of Lewis (Bain told me "Lewis's mum had no imagination hence his name") and Bain kept singing Gold Digger and then complaining that "Swedish girls are dead beautiful but their fuckin' stuck up, mate. Like Scottish girls are game for a laugh, this is shit I want to go home. I'm a lad's lad I can't be bothered with this poufer music." And Evelyn and I danced and it was awesome awesome.
Saturday, Evelyn and I woke up and decided to wonder round Gamla Stan, which is the old town and has beautiful architecture and winding streets and is atop this hill. It was SO cold, so we kept walking ducking into shops and we took pictures of the weird mittens and kitch viking souvenir stuff that was on sale. It was a really relaxed fun day, culminating in us chilling back at the hostel with the Scots again, going to a bar, then another bar, then Evelyn and I catching the bus back at 3:45 to get to the airport at 5, to board our plane which left at 6:55. We were tired and crabby by the time we got home (about 9:30 for me) and I dived into bed, woke up, and here I am now. It was an amazing weekend but I'm really glad to be back in balmy Berlin, where at least I can speak/read the language.
I have midterms tomorrow, which obviously I'm not stoked about but it should be a nice week because we have like one class a day and then next week--Paris. Which I hope is OK, because this trip has taught me I don't always do well with French people... nurrm :-/
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Don't Mean a Thing if it Ain't Got that Swing
So the little field trip I mentioned in my last blog, to the old cabaret club for my gender class? Well I revisited that spot last night after my Literature and Film class with some people for Wednesday Swing Night. I will fill you in on this in great detail, first let me tell you about class...
So for my Identity class yesterday, we also had a little field trip, to some Jewish sights that were destroyed prior to World War II in Kristalnacht, etc. The "Missing House" is only a few blocks from IES, there is a Jewish cemetery, and then there are also plaques on the road (covered by the snow and ice unfortunately) which have names of former residents on the street, when they were born, deported, and in most cases killed in a camp. The "Missing House" is exactly what it sounds like, a vacant lot between two other buildings were apartments used to be, the names of the former Jewish inhabitants written on the side of the other two buildings. It represents, like the void in the Jewish Museum, the void of Jews in German society. Something like 1,400 Jews survived in Germany after WWII, and there were roughly 720,000 beforehand. It's amazing, gruesome and amazing. A cool thing though is that I have seen the missing house before. When I went to Berlin with Ushi, the tour guide friend of the Lipps, last time I was in Germany, I saw the same street in the summer, so I was able to see the actual plaques that would have been on the ground. I got to tell the other kids in the class that they existed, which our teacher didn't mention until I brought it up, so I also felt kind of baller about that. EVEN BETTER, after seeing the house, our teacher, on IES's dime, bought us all Hot Chocolate at this great cafe. It was great after being freezing all day, and the teacher and I got to chat a little bit as well. She reminds me of my Mom, appearance wise, she has the same face shape, coloring, and bone structure, and she told me her mother was a Hungarian Jew. I'm telling you! Charisse should be the poster child for Hungarian Jews because there must be a type and she certainly fits it.
After delicious hot chocolate I had a break between classes and I used it to workout and call my mommy. I booked a trip to Stockholm with this girl Evelyn, next week, and I am so excited. I told my mom about the trip (I already have the blog post title figured out, "Stockholm Syndrome"...I am clever. Oh again about me being clever, during the tour in my Identity class my teacher showed us a synagogue that looks very Middle Eastern with a dome, and she said, it was designed this way because in the period it was built Middle Eastern culture was very chic. And I commented, "haha, middle eastern. Sheik." Sam and Steve lost their shit but no one else got it.) I also during the call with my mother pleaded for some popcorn in a care package. This country only likes kettle corn, which is gross because popcorn should rightly only be salty, and I don't have a microwave with which to make popcorn, so I am SORELY missing it and will settle for my mom sending me those weird aluminum things you cook on the stove top because I need it THAT much.
After break I had Literature Class, and the teacher is a total weirdo but for some reason I am this lady's prize pupil. Probably because I really like literature and am good at finding symbolism and meaning in things other people dismiss as unimportant. So she likes me for that, and also, because I took French I know how to pronounce French words, which she likes. She went on a little tirade about how English is conquering language and English speaking people are lazy about pronouncing things as people in their native country would. Which is a fair point. But at 6 o'clock on a Wednesday no one was in the mood and Margot even made a comment like, "You wanna talk about conquering maybe we should talk about Germany..."
So here is the part when I talk about my swing dancing. After class Jon, Kyle and I went to get a beer and wait for Steve and his girlfriend who is in town, and Mike and this girl he knows, to come to this swing dancing place. We had our beer and then went to the place, where Mike and his friend Abby were already. It was really fun, big band music was playing, couples of all different ages were dancing, like from my parents age to teens a little younger than me probably. But Keyword, couples. This is the kind of dancing where you need a partner. Ah the joys of being single. Mike's friend Abby kept on trying to get him to dance with me and he's very stiff and proper and I felt like I was at an awkward school dance. He had just taken swing lessons and was like, "here are the steps" and I am more of someone to just, feeeeeel the music. It's like dancing with my Dad at a wedding, I have good rhythm and I can look impressive, I just need a good partner. So I danced with Jon, Kyle, and Mike...all of whom put up a very valiant effort. And I have a good time chatting with Abby and Steve's girlfriend when they showed up, who is very nice and fun but totally different than I expected. Halfway through the night Eliza and Laurel showed up too. So we're hanging out, drinking, dancing, having fun, and I'm like, I need a good partner. I want to DANCE. So I went on a quest to find the oldest, fatherly looking man I could find, and I found one, and was like, "let's dance". He was PROBABLY my Dad's age, if not older. But man, he could swing dance. We did like kicks and spins and flips and it was sooooo much fun. Definitely not skeevy or creepy, there was no flirtation, he was married and talked about his wife, it was just a good dance partner. I tell you what, those old men, they had to have some dancing game because otherwise they wouldn't get dates back in the day. I guess...I mean, I wasn't ALIVE.
So for my Identity class yesterday, we also had a little field trip, to some Jewish sights that were destroyed prior to World War II in Kristalnacht, etc. The "Missing House" is only a few blocks from IES, there is a Jewish cemetery, and then there are also plaques on the road (covered by the snow and ice unfortunately) which have names of former residents on the street, when they were born, deported, and in most cases killed in a camp. The "Missing House" is exactly what it sounds like, a vacant lot between two other buildings were apartments used to be, the names of the former Jewish inhabitants written on the side of the other two buildings. It represents, like the void in the Jewish Museum, the void of Jews in German society. Something like 1,400 Jews survived in Germany after WWII, and there were roughly 720,000 beforehand. It's amazing, gruesome and amazing. A cool thing though is that I have seen the missing house before. When I went to Berlin with Ushi, the tour guide friend of the Lipps, last time I was in Germany, I saw the same street in the summer, so I was able to see the actual plaques that would have been on the ground. I got to tell the other kids in the class that they existed, which our teacher didn't mention until I brought it up, so I also felt kind of baller about that. EVEN BETTER, after seeing the house, our teacher, on IES's dime, bought us all Hot Chocolate at this great cafe. It was great after being freezing all day, and the teacher and I got to chat a little bit as well. She reminds me of my Mom, appearance wise, she has the same face shape, coloring, and bone structure, and she told me her mother was a Hungarian Jew. I'm telling you! Charisse should be the poster child for Hungarian Jews because there must be a type and she certainly fits it.
After delicious hot chocolate I had a break between classes and I used it to workout and call my mommy. I booked a trip to Stockholm with this girl Evelyn, next week, and I am so excited. I told my mom about the trip (I already have the blog post title figured out, "Stockholm Syndrome"...I am clever. Oh again about me being clever, during the tour in my Identity class my teacher showed us a synagogue that looks very Middle Eastern with a dome, and she said, it was designed this way because in the period it was built Middle Eastern culture was very chic. And I commented, "haha, middle eastern. Sheik." Sam and Steve lost their shit but no one else got it.) I also during the call with my mother pleaded for some popcorn in a care package. This country only likes kettle corn, which is gross because popcorn should rightly only be salty, and I don't have a microwave with which to make popcorn, so I am SORELY missing it and will settle for my mom sending me those weird aluminum things you cook on the stove top because I need it THAT much.
After break I had Literature Class, and the teacher is a total weirdo but for some reason I am this lady's prize pupil. Probably because I really like literature and am good at finding symbolism and meaning in things other people dismiss as unimportant. So she likes me for that, and also, because I took French I know how to pronounce French words, which she likes. She went on a little tirade about how English is conquering language and English speaking people are lazy about pronouncing things as people in their native country would. Which is a fair point. But at 6 o'clock on a Wednesday no one was in the mood and Margot even made a comment like, "You wanna talk about conquering maybe we should talk about Germany..."
So here is the part when I talk about my swing dancing. After class Jon, Kyle and I went to get a beer and wait for Steve and his girlfriend who is in town, and Mike and this girl he knows, to come to this swing dancing place. We had our beer and then went to the place, where Mike and his friend Abby were already. It was really fun, big band music was playing, couples of all different ages were dancing, like from my parents age to teens a little younger than me probably. But Keyword, couples. This is the kind of dancing where you need a partner. Ah the joys of being single. Mike's friend Abby kept on trying to get him to dance with me and he's very stiff and proper and I felt like I was at an awkward school dance. He had just taken swing lessons and was like, "here are the steps" and I am more of someone to just, feeeeeel the music. It's like dancing with my Dad at a wedding, I have good rhythm and I can look impressive, I just need a good partner. So I danced with Jon, Kyle, and Mike...all of whom put up a very valiant effort. And I have a good time chatting with Abby and Steve's girlfriend when they showed up, who is very nice and fun but totally different than I expected. Halfway through the night Eliza and Laurel showed up too. So we're hanging out, drinking, dancing, having fun, and I'm like, I need a good partner. I want to DANCE. So I went on a quest to find the oldest, fatherly looking man I could find, and I found one, and was like, "let's dance". He was PROBABLY my Dad's age, if not older. But man, he could swing dance. We did like kicks and spins and flips and it was sooooo much fun. Definitely not skeevy or creepy, there was no flirtation, he was married and talked about his wife, it was just a good dance partner. I tell you what, those old men, they had to have some dancing game because otherwise they wouldn't get dates back in the day. I guess...I mean, I wasn't ALIVE.
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