Saturday, July 14, 2012

What's with that?

There are some things about this continent that are so different from the US, sometimes I just stop and look at something and think "what the heck is up with that?"

The light switches are in weird places. Usually outside of important rooms. Like the bathroom. I don't get it. I have a younger sister, and let me tell you, she would have been all over that light switch at the worst possible moments. She would wait until I was shaving my legs and then plunge me into darkness. Are European children simply better behaved than we are?

The metric system. This one, I like. Why don't we use it? It just makes so much more sense. Temperature, distance, weight. It's all terribly logical. While I generally approve of one's right to stand out from the crowd, I think in this particular case the US needs to get with the program.

Imported American stores/advertisements. What bothers me about this is the fact that a) so many ads are in English (why?) and b) they perpetuate the really stupid stuff that also bugs me at home. If you're trying to sell clothing, why do you have a picture of a shirtless guy in your posters? I mean, I get that sex sells, but is nudity the only way to be sexy? Abercrombie, I'm looking at you here.

A lot of the time when you go to any kind of sit-down cafe or restaurant, you just walk in and sit down and assume someone will come help you. Of course, they do come, because that's how it works here. But it still seems really strange to me.

Black coffee. Why advertise it and then fail to deliver? I know, when in Rome... And I have stuck mostly to the kind of coffee they do well here. Cappuccino, espresso etc. But being away from home for 2 months now, sometimes I just really want a nice cup of black coffee. And when I see it written on a blackboard an uncontrollable hope wells up in me, only to be crushed by yet another Americano.

Fire bombed

Today was my one full day in Dresden.

When I left the hostel this morning in search of breakfast, I stumbled on a likely looking bakery and walked in. I was instantly (and pleasantly) assailed by the smell of warm, baked raisins. So it was that I discovered a very particular nostalgia around raisin buns.
In college I lived with my best friends in a total dump, but it was home. It got freezing cold in the winter, and the warmest spot was a nook in the kitchen where we kept the toaster oven. One time, we got a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread, and sat on the counters around the toaster while delicious smells wafted out of it, and spread butter on our toast, and were warm and cozy, and talked, as we often did. It wasn't anything that special in the grand scheme of things, I suppose, but it was a really nice memory as I sat in the park and ate my raisin bun.

I wandered around the flea market for a while. Even though I know it's true, even I find it hard to believe that I've never been to a flea market before. I was surrounded by old buttons, keys, ceramic figurines and tea cups, video games, an old wedding dress, books, records, baby clothes, coins, postage stamps, wooden clocks, silk top hats, typewriters, sets of silver spoons, toy cars, handmade jewelry ranging from incredibly tacky to elegantly lovely, old military badges and medals, tiny cut-crystal glasses, antique spools of thread, a framed painting of a pig, mirrors with beer adverts painted on them, beat-up copper tea kettles and samovars. I even saw one of those special Portuguese guitars used in Fado music. It would take me no time at all to decorate a funky, homey café with items exclusively found at that market.

Then it was time for some quality people-watching. Being a Saturday afternoon in the old town, other tourists were the perfect subjects. I found a spot with an accordion player and singer duo, a cake and coffee special, and a good view of the throngs passing by. Despite the wildly bipolar weather, people were out in droves.

I then went back to the hostel to shower, clean out my bag, and do some laundry. This post is rapidly turning into a play-by-play of my day, but there is a reason I'm writing about this. The thought has crossed my mind that it's a waste of precious time in a city I may never visit again if I spend 2 hours in my hostel rummaging around in my bag. However. When one is on the road, living out of said bag for several months, moving from place to place every few days, and losing one's shampoo in one of those places and failing to replace it for almost a week (FYI face wash makes a very poor substitute for shampoo) there is a lot to be said for having a good long scrub in some relaxing hot water, and throwing away the accumulated maps and pamphlets and trash from one's bag, and telling the receptionist to yes, please, do use hot water on EVERYTHING, and put it ALL in the dryer - even the quick-drying lace underwear, because having all your clothes be clean is so worth some damage done to them (which happens anyways when you're cycling through 4 or 5 days worth).
Is it strange that external cleanliness can make you feel clean on the inside as well? Fresh and new and happy to be alive? Maybe this is an oddity of mine, but I think plenty of you can relate to the feeling.

While walking from the train station to my hostel yesterday, I passed by what appeared to be a wine festival. Stand after stand of wineries selling there wares by the glass or bottle, and plenty of people (mostly ranging from middle-aged to old) sitting and enjoying some nice glasses of wine. I myself am quite partial to wine, and my sister gave me an invaluable piece of advice about restaurants which I assume extends to wine - you know it's good if there are lots of old peoples. So, following that recommendation, feeling fresh and clean, wearing a dress and ready to mingle with an older crowd, I made my way to the wine. Being in Germany, I decided to try a Riesling. Several, in fact. Sweet wine is much better enjoyed on its own, in my opinion, than with any kind of food. Unable to understand any of the German descriptions, I resorted to the point and smile, hoping to encounter another dry Riesling like the amazing one I had in Milan. I ended up with one sparkling Riesling, then a super-sweet one, then one that was professed to be dry by an english-speaking vendor but wasn't at all what I was searching for, at which point I gave up and moved on to my preferred red wine. Even though I didn't find what I was hoping for, all the wines I sampled were quite delightful. There was a consistently generous pouring strategy. 0.1L became 0.15, and this empty-stomached wanderluster soon became even more inclined to see the world through rose-colored glasses.

After more than necessary glasses of wine, I made my way to an art cinema where they showed "The Way", which I had been wanting to see. After that amazing movie experience (seriously, watch this movie), I sat at the bar (inside the cinema) drinking a Spanish wine and reading my newest book-exchange find, when a very interesting German guy struck up a conversation with me. We ended up chatting until almost 4 AM. It's amazing, the fascinating people one meets while traveling.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

The largest Turkish population outside of Turkey is in...

Berlin

Which means they make a mean döner kebap.

The difference between Berlin and the last few places I've been was almost shocking to me - it seems so... developed? Is that the right word? It's modern, but not in a shiny, new way. In a dirty, grungy, industrial, young way.

Let me start by saying that I absolutely loved the city of Berlin. I was there for 4 days, and I left this afternoon for Dresden (should I be walking around feeling guilty about the firebombing?).

There are several sides to the city that I noticed and experienced. Let's start with the more mainstream touristy stuff:

MUSEUMS

I am a museum person. I have been to so many on this trip so far, and keep thinking I'm going to get tired of them. And I do. But not for long. So, when I say that Berlin had some of the best museums I've seen, I am really saying something. And there are SO MANY of them! There is an entire island with nothing BUT museums on it! Well, there's a cathedral. And a fountain. But that's it.

Let me tell you about the single best deal I have encountered on this trip (an this is including the €40 music festival ticket that should have been almost €100). The Berlin Museum Pass. With a student ID it costs €9.50, and gets you into over 50 museums for 3 days. And not just the crappy museums that nobody has heard of or wants to go to. We're talking top-notch stuff.

Let's work backwards. Today I went to the Jewish museum. Someone opined that it is the best of its kind in all of Europe. I have no objection to this conclusion. This place was awesome - from the architecture of the building to the permanent exhibits to the gardens, it was fantastic. I am comparing it to the House of Terror in Budapest, only because they were so different. House of Terror was essentially just reading a textbook while surrounded with wall-sized images, some video clips, very few physical things. It was certainly am experience, and the atmosphere and music made the information much more poignant, but it really was just a lot of reading and not much else. The Jewish museum, on the other hand, would appeal to anyone who likes museums. It was fantastic. There were many media used, interactive displays and sound bits, artifacts, stories told, photographs displayed, short but interesting plaques (or pull-out drawers or lift-up flaps) about religion, secular Jewish life, how Jewish culture influenced German culture. When you first walk in to the permanent exhibit you can write a wish on a paper pomegranate and hang it from a life-sized tree. There is a vending machine halfway through with kosher Haribo gummy bears. This is a really, truly well-done museum.

I also went to the modern art museum this morning. This is more of a matter of personal taste, but as I often appreciate modern art it was fun for me. There was an interesting exhibit tracing the evolution of art (painting, sculpture and architecture) in Berlin from 1880-1980. Prominently featured was a Chilean artist, Alfredo Jaar, who did some really interesting pieces using light.

Yesterday I poked my head into the Pergamon museum - with my pass I got to skip the outrageously long line, which was an amazing perk, and get straight to the massive stuff inside. This museum was built to house huge altar-pieces and gates and friezes that were dug up in Turkey. We're talking full-sized buildings inside of a building. It was quite strange to see, and while it was all quite beautiful, I couldn't help thinking that even though a German found it, shouldn't they have left it in Turkey?

The Bode museum was my favorite on museum island - it's not one of the big tourist destinations, falling decidedly in the shadows of the Pergamon and the Neues, but I really enjoyed it. Mainly because of one statue (see the photo at the end again) of a dancer. I couldn't actually believe that this girl had been carved. She looks like she grew, already dancing, right out of the marble. I wasn't the only one stopped in my tracks by this dancer. I sat, gazing at her, next to a man doing the same, for a long time.

On my first day I stumbled on this tiny but fascinating exhibit based on found objects in certain sites. The picture doesn't do it any kind of justice, but it was really cool.

Some other classically tourist things I did include climbing 300+ stairs to the top of the cathedral on museum island, which resulted in the best views around, a (very short) visit to the famous (and overly crowded and not at all worth it) Checkpoint Charlie, and a stroll along the longest surviving section of the wall, the East Side Gallery.

The other side of Berlin, which I was incredibly eager to experience, has been labelled "alternative". I can't say I really like that word, but I'll go with it until I think of something better (don't hold your breath). This is the world of the young, lively, vibrant, street-art viewing, squat-house dwelling, pierced and tattooed Berliner, possibly from somewhere else entirely, probably upset about gentrification, and definitely making their presence felt in the city.

"ALTERNATIVE" BERLIN

These aren't the kind of things that are outlined in my guidebook, so I took a walking tour. Yes, this stuff is so important that it has its own walking tour. I would highly recommend it, alternativeberlin.com.

We started (and continued) with a lot of street art. I am really into street art. I believe I've mentioned this before. And probably also told you to watch the movie "Exit Through the Gift Shop" if you have any interest in it whatsoever, because it's really good. Good enough for me to repeatedly tell you about it. Anyways, this is important because Berlin is one of the best cities around for street art. There are whole books full of it. There is an entire memory card in my backpack full of it. Because the city is full of it.

Let me be clear about the difference between street art and graffiti. What one normally thinks of as graffiti, the ugly scrawls, the big letters that are impossible to read, the gang signs etc... that is, in fact, graffiti. Street art is something a little different. It's art that just happens to be in a public place. It also happens to be illegal. But you can find it anywhere - on a wall, the pavement, the back of a road sign. It turns entire cities into public art galleries. And it's always changing.

We went by some former squat houses (I will explain, shortly, the need for the "former"qualifier), a community of people living in caravans and running an urban farm, complete with ponies and goats, and the tree house of an adorable old Turkish man. His story was lovely, so I'm going to share it. When they were building the wall, at some point there was meant to be a corner, but someone decided to save money by building it curved, which left this bit of land that belonged to one side but was actually walled off to the other side. So this patch, which no one could officially use or even set foot on, became a trash heap. Until this guy showed up, and started clearing it out. He planted a garden, and built a little house from found scraps, right around a tree. When the wall came down, a church across the street laid claim to the land so that no one could remove him. And there he stays, to this day, tending his garden and sitting in a lawn chair in the back (sleeping soundly, when we saw him).

I liked the walking tour so much that I decided to do the "anti-pub crawl" hosted by the same group. It was a lot of fun, 6 places, all quite different, none at all like your standard bar/club, not a one playing house music. The first was a 60s bar called yesterday, which just made me think of the Beatles all night. There were stuffed flowers and mushrooms on the ceiling with lady-bug foil-wrapped chocolates attached to them, and multi-colored lights all around. The next bar was a goth/punk place, with skulls for beer taps, red lighting, and cobwebs in the corners. This sounds way cheesier than it was - it was actually pretty cool. But my favorite place we went was a ping pong bar. What the heck is that? one may ask. Well, it's basically just a room with a ping pong table in it. You rent a paddle, and participate in a sort of musical-chairs-esque elimination round where players just circle the table, trying to hit the ball until they miss and are out. This whittles the participants down to 2 very good players who are great fun to watch, until someone wins and the whole thing starts all over again.

Now we get to the sad part. The part where I tell you that if you want to see this awesome, "alternative" Berlin, you better hurry up and do it. Because it probably won't exist for too much longer.

The problem is gentrification. An area becomes popular with young, poor, super cool (in my opinion) people. People with more money see it as a good investment. They buy real estate. Prices go up. More affluent people start to move into the area. They start complaining about noisy clubs, spray-painted walls, people squatting illegally in abandoned buildings. So, gradually, all those things disappear. The funky bars and restaurants become homogenized, the artists camping out in that condemned building get forcibly evicted, more people leave because they can't afford to live there any more. And then it becomes kind of the same as everywhere else.

At first this made me really mad. But then I realized, change just happens. You can't stop it, and you shouldn't really want to - you should just enjoy what's there while it lasts. Make some memories, so when all that's left of those times are photographs and stories we can tell our grandchildren about the good ol' days. And keep an open mind, so you can enjoy the next cool thing, which won't last forever either.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

My two cents

As I travel, I'm learning all sorts of things I wish I had known before I left, and forming some opinions about how best to enjoy life on the road. I thought I'd share some with you all (these stem from a backpacking through Europe experience, so are accordingly applicable):


Pack way less than you think you need. Enough clothes for 3 days is enough clothes for 3 months. Remember that you have to haul it all around with you.

Unless you are one of those rare people who doesn't sweat and never manages to get dirty, don't pack white clothes.

If you are planning on washing your own clothes, take a sink stopper - or be prepared to pay outrageous sums of money to use a washing machine.

Don't drink a lot of water and 3 cups of coffee first thing in the morning when you're in a city that charges € 1 to use the bathroom.

Be open minded. Try not to have specific expectations. Go with the flow. You'll be much happier.

If you're a girl thinking of traveling alone for the first time, let me tell you - it's not as big a deal as you might think. Just do it.

Often, if you need to pay to use a bathroom, you also need to grab toilet paper in advance.

When buying produce in grocery stores you often have to weigh it yourself unless it's packaged. If you see a number next to the labels, look around for a scale - put in the appropriate number, and it will print a price sticker for you.

Walk. Take a comfortable pair of shoes, and walk whenever possible. It's the best way to get to know a city, and it will allow you to eat delicious local food and drink beer without needing to buy new clothes.

Bring a student ID if you have one. Even if you're not a student, an old card will still work quite often - I've gotten great discounts at hostels and museums with my (expired) ID.

If you're into museums, it's worth looking at hours etc. ahead of time - many have free entry one or more days of the week or after a certain time, and some multi-museum passes (especially the one in Berlin) are really worth it, particularly when combined with a student discount.

While you're walking, stay out of the bike lane. There are lanes for a reason. It's just better for everyone.

Unless you're really pressed for time, don't take night trains. Train travel is a pleasure, and looking out the window in the daytime affords beautiful views and a good look at what goes in-between cities.

If you love to read, take one book and trade it out at book exchanges in hostels. It's a great way to keep your packing light and potentially discover something great you didn't know about before (I read my first Salman Rushdie novel as a result of a book exchange).

Avoid wearing obviously brand-name clothing (especially guys) as in some countries or cities certain brands are akin to gang signs or sandwich boards reading "I'm a hooligan". This goes for sports brands and the fancier stuff - check out what happened with Burberry in the UK.



A few thoughts about hostels:

The variety of hostels out there is huge, so it's really important to know what you're looking for and to be careful when booking. In my opinion, there are two broad hostel categories: small and personal, or large and commercial. If what you're interested is a cheap version of a hotel, go for the large-scale hostels. If you want more of a community backpacker feel, definitely aim for smaller places.
I am personally a fan of the small hostels. 30 beds or less, with a good common room, kitchen, and nice staff.

In my opinion, where you stay is just as important as what you see and what you eat while traveling, because it has the potential to introduce you to some amazing people and a lot of fun you may not otherwise have had. Some personal hostel recommendations I have are: Poet's Corner in Olomouc, Czech Republic; Ginger Monkey in Ždiar, Slovakia; and Elephant's Castle in Trenčin, Slovakia. The beautiful thing about finding one great hostel is that you start hearing about others from your fellow guests and from the staff. I take these recommendations seriously, and I haven't been disappointed yet.

Slovenska

I have been spending much more time than I initially anticipated in Slovakia - and it has all been marvelous fun.

I went to a tiny town called Banská Štiavnica (home of ERB beer and pickled cheese), and enjoyed the beautiful views and the hourly music-box-esque concert emanating from one of the church steeples. It was very relaxing. One of my favorite moments was sitting on an obliging wall for several hours, just soaking it all in.

Then I went to Ždiar, a village in the High Tatras mountains of Slovakia, right next to the Polish border. The Ginger Monkey hostel there was absolutely fantastic, full of fun people, beer taken straight from the fridge and tallied up on an honor system, a hammock with a perfect view of the mountains, and a happy dog named Wally. The main attraction here is the hiking, so I did a 7-hour trek up the saddle trail, into a (literally) breathtaking alpine meadow, then down to some gorgeous lakes and a forest that could have sprouted overnight from the pages of a fairy tale.

*I am writing this from my phone and formatting options are limited, so please find photos at the end of the post*

The best part of the hike, for me, was the abundance of wildflowers. I can confidently say, without the slightest whisper of hyperbole, that I saw over 100 species throughout the day. It was the most spectacular sight, the rolling grass peppered with thousands of tiny, perfect specimens of every different color. There were even multiple shades of blue represented, which blew my mind since true blue is not an easy color to find in vegetation.
The variety of fly species present was also quite stunning - high altitude ecosystems often rely on Diptera as pollinators, and it was fascinating to witness that first hand. Also expletive-inducing at times, as some of those flies have a mighty painful bite.

My next foray into Slovakia was to Trenčin, to see the town and Bažant Pohoda, a music festival. I stayed at a new hostel there called Elephant's Castle - my friend and I were the very first guests, and I have to say it was quite an honor. The individuals running it have worked at and stayed in hostels for years, and they really are doing it right. None of this industrial, impersonal crap that so many places have become. They know that it's all about community and meeting new people, sharing experiences and enjoying travel. Our first night they cooked us dinner and we ate on the terrace with a view looking right up to the castle - the terrace is the best feature of the premises.

The town of Trenčin is quite lovely, nice and small and quiet, watched over by the huge castle, right next to a river where you can go swimming (at night, even, which is what we did to celebrate the hostel's opening). And, for 3 days every year, it is home to a sweet music festival.

Bažant Pohoda means chilled-out pheasant in Slovak. I suppose it depends on how one approaches these sorts of things, but I found it to be an apt name. I had so much fun, discovered some new bands, and was generally chill and relaxed.

To give you an idea of the eclectic mix of music at this festival, here is a list of the groups/people I saw:

Plastic People of the Universe (a Czech group)
Lou Reed
Caribou
Two Door Cinema Club
The Heavy
Villagers
Eskmo (this guy was a human personification of the essence of LA)
Kasabian
Orbital
Anna Calvi
Emiliana Torrini (my single favorite act, she was incredible)
Warpaint
The Kooks
Public Enemy (to be fair, I only saw a couple songs before I laid down in the grass outside the open-sided tent with the intention of listening but the result of sleeping soundly through the entire set (which went an hour over schedule).)

Some things that really surprised me about the festival were how relatively clean it was (they had a slew of volunteers in orange vests picking up trash and a deal with the beer stands that anyone who brought in half a meter of stacked cups could get half a liter of beer in exchange) and how on-time everything was. Public Enemy was the only group I saw that went over their slot by more than a minute or two, and everyone started right on time as well.

There was so much more going on in addition to the music.
There was a silent disco every night, which I had never heard of before but enjoyed thoroughly. No music is playing inside - instead, you're handed a pair of huge headphones with two channels when you walk in. There are two DJs playing, and you can switch between them at your leisure. This leads to everyone listening to, dancing to, and singing along to different music - which is incredibly entertaining to see. I took of my headphones several times to listen to the crowd singing along and dancing in the music-less dome, it was quite a sight.
They had movies projected onto a makeshift sheet-screen late at night (Midnight in Paris was awesome), tents set up for poetry and literary discussions, classical music concerts, tea-houses with carpets and cushions and low tables to set a hookah pipe on, showers for those camping out, a communal art station with paint and canvases available to anyone walking by, a massive row of foosball tables and, of course, massive amounts of festival food.

When I left Sunday morning the train station looked a bit like a refugee camp - hungover festival goers, looking miserable in the heat, curled up on any available patch of platform, some laying on sleeping mats, some sprawled out on top of backpacks and camping equipment, and so many of them that they spilled out the door and down the street to the park. My train was so crowded that I couldn't get a seat and ended up crouched next to the WC for my 2 hour ride. It was, all in all, a fantastic weekend, marred only by the sadness of saying goodbye to Monica and Viktor of Elephant's Castle.