i've arrived home safely, but am quite jet lagged. ...a long nap will conclude this European Incident 2006. and what an incident it was. more to come...

June 20 - 22 :: Berlin

We came to Berlin to watch World Cup football. Here football is serious business, but we made ample time for fun and games on this ultra long seesaw near the Sony Plaza.

You can't tell from the picture--because 278-degree air is as invisible to the human eye as your average Standard Home & Office 78-Degree Air--but if you could have strapped a pair of infrared goggles to your head, here you would see a red mass of human bodies over which hovered an even deeper red cloud of 278-degree air. i thought i might suffocate.

But all for a good cause, rest assured. Our goal is to reach a road called Unter den Linden, site of Fan Fest, where large screens were set up for a mile to accommodate us along with 300,000 other German football fans.

Plenty of German flags and Soccer Heads keep us company during the long, suffocating wait.

Deutschland (Germany) scores a goal against Ecuador as viewed on giant screen with the Brandenburg Gate in the background.

Cheers all around for "Deutschland, deutschland, deutschland, deutschland."

Others cheer " Ich bin hooligan. Shah la la la la" (I'm a hooligan. Shah la la la la").

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (completed in May of 2005). It's central location in the heart of Berlin is of particular note: "The location at the heart of Berlin and in the vicinity of embassies, cutural institutions, business and residential premises, as well as the Tiergarten, expresses the memorial's public character. Its integration into the historic urban space and the parliament and government district highlights the fact that the memorial is directed towards the civil society ... This underlines that acknowledging the uniqueness of this crime and historic responsibility is central to Federal Republic of Germany's self-understanding."

The Reichstag offers a 360-degree view of the city. Transportation, business and technology are today linked between formerly East and West Berlin.

Olympia Stadium built by Hitler for the 1936 Summer Olympics.

New Jewish Synagogue :: Built in 1866, "The New Jewish Synagogue conducted services according to the New Rites and Practices, the most important indication of which was the installation of an organ. Such reforms of teh service were part of the process of Jewish assimilation ... In the Pogrom of November 1938 ("Kristallnacht"), the New Synagogue was spared major damage ... [However during the remainder of the Second World War,] it was severely damaged by Allied bombs ... In May of 1995 the building was reopend."

Berliner Dom :: This cathedral replaced its former classical-style cathedral (which had replaced its former Baroque-style cathedral) in 1905. The surprising thing is that it's not Catholic, but Protestant.

Organ ::

pulpit ::

exterior ::

Berlin wall ::

Dinner by the Wall ::

6.19.2006 :: leaving Amsterdam
We woke up late. I guess we're still recovering from jet lag and adjusting to living out of a bag.

After breakfast aboard the hostel's "dining hall," which was a smaller canal boat docked to our larger cargo ship, we left for the free ferry. As soon as we left, it started pouring.

I mean really pouring.

We were forced to take refuge under the canopy of a cafe, and the rain slowed just in time for us to make it the rest of the way to the ferry dock.

:: the rain. ridiculous amounts of pouring rain.













:: pouting about soggy socks














:: Bad Bentheim, Germany
It's tough to find your way in a foreign city. You don't know where anything is, you're not familiar with the public transportation and you're carrying monstrous luggage on your young, innocent shoulders.

It gets better when your sense of direction may be only very slightly under par.

So we arrived in Bad Bentheim without a clue of where our destination, the Bentheim Castle, was located. So we asked at the info booth, only to be instructed, "Go outside. Walk toward the castle." Now, I'm may not be known for my extraordinary sense of direction, but these kind of directions even I can handle.

Did I mention I desperately love tiny German towns?!?

After ascending the world's longest, windiest, steepest cobblestone street carrying fully-loaded backpacks on our [still] young, innocent shoulders, we arrived at the Bentheim Castle.

:: "you mean i have to climb all the way up there?! no way. i'm staying right here."

















:: main gate

















:: gardens from atop Bentheim Castle. notice the people strolling in the gardens. they're as tiny as can be!













:: i might stay here forever . . .













:: um, the castle . . . through the castle.

















:: in the dungeon



















:: aren't red-thatched roofs charming?


















:: adam: "and this toast goes to, well, me and my castle. That's right. MY castle." . . . followed by a healthy portion of bratwurst and fries.













:: another castle photograph

















:: conclusions
a quiet German town with a castle at the center. gardens left and right. clean streets. what can i say but . . . Charm-O-Rama.

here i began to realize that Germany is Germany, and nothing else.

at the risk of sounding anti-American, which i don't intend to do, i'll note that, in the States, we herald diversity--yes, by necessity we herald diversity because we’re a melting pot of cultures-- to the point that we have little other than burgers, the Superbowl and Hollywood to call “American.”

we may have little in common with those living only a block away. and there are perhaps very few traditions to call national culture, because we spend more of our time being tolerant rather than being American. and we're stronger for it. perhaps more cynical, but stronger.

Germany, however, is a place unto itself.

While not backward or ignorant of the world beyond--on the contrary, here i encountered only well-thought and well-traveled persons--German culture is in no way assimilated to surrounding cultures.

No diversity, only nationalism. …but more on nationalism later…

:: then off to Berlin . . .

6.17 &18.2006 :: the eternal day // Amsterdam

:: 6.17.2006 :: 3.30pm :: leaving for the airport with my backpack, the Hornet

















:: 6.18.2006 :: 9.05am :: The story of the two postcards
Arrive at airport and pick up the Hornet.

Get plenty of $$ out of MAC machine.

Attempt to use cash to buy train ticket, only to realize ticket machines accept coins only. Form new strategy: buy two postcards with the goal of obtaining change.

Get ripped off on postcards while being told “we don’t provide change.”

Wait in a very long line at international ticket counter along with everyone else who doesn't have the right change. Somebody seriously needs to do something about those ornery coins-only machines.

Buy train tickets. Board train. Finally.

Write two postcards, one to a friend about how many cows I saw while landing in Amsterdam. The other to myself about how not to get ripped off buying postcards of a country i haven't yet visited.

::

1pm :: tapas dining. the manager started talking with us in Dutch, and when i replied in English, he looked shocked and said, "but you look Dutch!" ...he then looked at adam and remarked, "and you look like George Bush." . . . here you see adam doing the "W"and me wondering what i've gotten myself into . . .

2.30pm :: Bicycling along the canals

7.00pm :: strolling the streets followed by dinner at a street cafe. notice the orange balloons. everything here is decorated with orange balloons in support of the Dutch football team's participation in the World Cup.

::

See that green cargo boat half way down the pier? Looks like your run of the mill green cargo

boat, doesn’t it?

Don’t be deceived. This is no ordinary green cargo boat. In fact, this green cargo boat has been transformed into none other than one of the best-priced hostels in Amsterdam.

And so the green cargo boat initiated me to the European backpacking culture. I’d say being

woken up in the middle of the night only to wonder why the world is swirling and tilting around me is a good initiation to the backpacker’s life, wouldn’t you?

This was my Amsterdam, complete with swirling and tilting, and I didn’t even have to smoke anything.

Also pictured above: a Russian U-boat, three old Dutch marine ships, a minesweeper and the Sirius, which is owned by Greenpeace and is taken around the world saving wildlife at sea.

:: tiny me on a bit boat (click to view larger)

:: concluding observations

did you know Amsterdam has open-ceiling green metal cylinders atop bridges where men can go to pee straight into the river?!?! That's gross.

did you also know the Red Light District is in the center of town? and kids play half a block down?? Even grosser.

and finally, did you know that the wifebeater is a staple item in a Dutch man's wardrobe? the Grossest of All.

it's like the grunge era never left here. good music. bad hygiene. ...probably not the first place i'd come back to visit.

home revisted

i was home this past weekend for my sister's graduation open house. well, first i went home to lansing. then to detroit to pick a friend up from the airport. then back to lansing for the open house.

and in between i was stuck in construction traffic. miles of it. on I-696. on I-75. on I-96. everywhere construction traffic. welcome to the Great Lakes State!

all this to say that i thought more about the idea of home this weekend. in my previous post (5.30.2006), i wondered if i'd feel more at home in europe than here--simply because it's architecture and recorded history date back millenia instead of just centuries, as is the case in the States. Here, it feels like i'm living in a mere wading pool of historical, architectural, cultural waters.

but to be human is to thirst for the deep waters of a story that is much older and larger than ourselves.

and not only does europe have history where we lack. it also has community where we live in isolation. and it has long meals and plenty of holidays--a desirable pace of life--where we rush from task to task without stopping. so in many ways, perhaps europeans live more in line with the way we're meant to live.

but then i started thinking. there are things about being American that i'm sure i take for granted. i have some good ideas what these things are, but i'm going to let myself discover them. ...ha, maybe i'll even feel American for the first time while i'm abroad.

regardless, i'm going to learn about cultures, societies, governments, economies... i could combine all the strengths of the european way of life with the high points of an american lifestyle to synthesize a utopian ideal. but does utopia necessarily imply home? i think not.

So what is home? Home is necessarily where you've lived for a spell of time. it is the cracks in a sidewalk that remind you of when you were going through a breakup. it is the bends in the road that you could more or less navigate with your eyes closed. it is bushes that--though you grow with age--eventually outgrown you. it is piles of rocks you spent your childhood sifting through in search of the shiny, pink ones. ...hour after hour you scanned the massive pile for shiny, pink rocks.

Age and time have a way of making a place feel like home.

And so, while i may discover in europe certain refreshing rhythms and stories... and while i may realize the cultural norms and benefits of being American that I now take for granted, this trip isn't about finding a utopian ideal to call "home." It is about, well, about traveling.

And I'm excited. Being a traveller makes me feel...
:: wild :: i have no one to answer to.
:: commonality with humanity :: i lose myself in crowds as i tread public space.
:: pleasured :: sights, sounds and smells inspire me, and i glean them for future creative reference...

it's true. my room has officially been overtaken by miniature-sized deodorant, german language guidebooks and emergency ponchos. other notable mentions :: passport, compression bags and snack-sized ziplocs.

i guess that means i really am leaving for europe in two weeks.

yahoo!

home

It was last night that I found myself sinking low into the blown-out middle cushion of my couch and wondering with trepidation what twists and turns lurk in the European unknown.

What will shock me?
Who will challenge me?
When will mental and physical exhaustion overwhelm me?
How will this European Incident 2006 change me?

...not to be overdramatic. But this is a big deal for me. I didn't realize it 'til now, but I consider myself globally-minded--even well-traveled--but only by book and tv. This is the first actual test of what I've read and heard so much about.

And so I decided that some research--basic research--would be in order. This led me to purchase the AvanteGuide Prauge travel resource--hip, intelligent, handy. I won't digress here, though, because my point lies on pages 261-262 of the AGP. It is here that I read about layers and layers of tombstones lying up to 12 thick in the Old Jewish Cemetery.

And I started thinking--as heart-breaking as it is to know this burial sight was brutally forced upon the Jews-- I long for this kind of history, this rootedness. 12 layers. Maybe I'll feel more human, a part of millenia of history standing at the foot of a cohen's or tailor's grave.

Because to an American, history is 300 years old. But to a European it is 3000 years old. This American sense of independence from ages and ages of history isn't the way we were meant to live. Maybe Europe will in some ways feel more like home than the middle cushion of my couch.

Regardless, it is the presence of graveyards and sunken couches that--though death is inevitable--remind us that, for a few glorious years, this physical earth is our residence. It is what we call home.