Busy Day in Berlin

Started the day off early by grabbing breakfast (or brekkie, as the Aussies say) with Paul and Sarah. We packed sandwiches for ourselves and grabbed the S-Bahn to the Brandenburg Gate where we were to meet up for the walking tour. There was a large group gathered, but the Berlin guides were much more organized than their Parisian brethren, and handed out numbered slips of paper to determine groups. As we waited, I became acquainted with a Berlin phenomenon that I would witness many times over the next two days: little children, usually girls, probably 8-9 years old most of the time, would come up to you and ask “Speak English?” If you respond yes, they hold up a slip of paper with a sob story written on it, probably something about a dead or ill mother, with lots of children to feed, and that they just need a little bit of money, all ending with “god bless.” Paul had seen this shit before, so following in his footsteps, whenever any young child asks if you speak English, the answer is always, always no (this was most humorous as we stood listening to our guide tell a story about the Brandenburg Gate, in English, yet still resolutely answered that, no, who do we look like, English? when approached by an apparently not very observant young girl). We met up with four of Paul and Sarah friends from Sydney, Tom, Libby, Barry and Tina (I think I got their names right…) and before too much longer we set out on the tour led by our illustrious guide Matt.

We covered a pretty good chunk of the city on the tour, starting at the Gate and heading to the Holocaust memorial, Hitler’s bunker (or well, above the bunker), some churches, a stretch of the Berlin wall, Checkpoint Charlie (fake), the book burning memorial, another memorial or two and finally ending at the in-the-process-of-being-torn-down-former-Communist Palace. Of course, no tour of Berlin would be completely without the story of how David Hasselhoff singlehandedly brought down the Berlin Wall. Matt ended with a rousing rendition of how Gunther Schabowski ended the Cold War.

After the tour, Paul and Sarah and friends went out for a drink, while I decided to head back to the hostel. After hanging out back there for a bit, I went out again. I decided I wanted to check out the festivities going on near the Brandenburg Gate and get a better look at the Reichstag. While walking there, I listened to Ronald D. Moore’s excellent Battlestar Galactica podcast and stopped at a great bookstore with a surprisingly large English language section where I picked up Wonder Boys, the last of the Chabon novels I’ve been seeking out. From there, it was a quick walk to the Brandenburg Gate, behind which a large stage had been set up. On the stage, presumably in celebration of the Germany-Spain Euro 2008 final that was to occur the next, a group composed of two barely clad female vocalists and a guy in a white suit decorated with flames sang what I imagine were covers of famous pop songs. I say “I imagine” because the only song I recognized was a cover of the Backstreet Boys “I Want It That Way.” Sung in Spanish. It was bizarre.

From there, I walked around the stretch behind the gate tomorrow. I heard earlier in the day that half a million people were expected to to show up there the next day to watch the game. They had five or six giant screens set up one after the other, stretching down the tract of land. Clearly, they were preparing to handle many thousands of people. From there, it was on to the Reichstag. At first I didn’t go in because I didn’t want to wait in line, so I sat down on the lawn and read for a while. But time passed and I decided I might as well read in line and kill two birds with one stone, which is what I did. I’m glad I decided to do that because the view from the Reichstag is pretty great and the inside of the glass dome was a site to see in and of itself. Unfortunately Parliament wasn’t in session so I didn’t get to look down and see the politicians, but it was neat none the less.

I walked back to the hostel after finishing the at Reichstag. I grabbed dinner at this delicious falafel joint around the corner from the hostel. The falafel was actually better than any I ever had in Amsterdam (even better than the Sphinx!) and the frites were almost Amsterdam level, especially since they had fritesauce. It made me miss Amsterdam terribly, but I contented myself with the fact that I would be back in less than 48 hours and that I would have chances aplenty to get some frites while there.

Arriving in Berlin

Not much to say here. Traveling from Prague to Berlin was generally uneventful. I had torrented the new Girl Talk album the night before and gave it listen or two on the way. First thoughts? Probably more cohesive and layered than Night Ripper, but also mellower and lacking the insane, turn the volume up to eleven, peaks of that album. The fact that the album reaches its climax on a “Since U Been Gone” (I was going to spell that “Since ‘You’ Been Gone” but wisely Googled the title) sample perhaps might give you pause, but I can’t hold it against him. Plus, the album boasts not one but two Radiohead samples, as well as a Hot Chip sample, and plenty of others that I can’t think of off the top of my head, so I’m satisfied. I also finished The Yiddish Policemen’s Union. That Michael Chabon, what a guy.

Checked in at the snazzy Wombat City Hostel upon arriving in Berlin. It’s a great place. I’m not feeling particularly verbose this evening so I won’t go into great detail about the hostel or the rest of my generally uneventful day. However that evening I went to the Wombar on the seventh floor of the hostel to get a couple of drinks with Paul and Sarah, my two Australian roommates. They’re great, funny, interesting people on the beginning of what will be basically a six month trip around Europe and Asia.

Blargh, long day walking today. More on that tomorrow. Going to bed now. buh-bye.

Not going to Kutná Hora

For my last full day in Prague, I had two goals: see the Lennon Wall, a graffiti-covered monument to the former Beatle, and travel to Kutná Hora to see the bone church mentioned in one of Adaptation’s final scenes. I asked the a hostel employee what the best way to get to Kutná Hora was, and she printed out a very helpful schedule of all the buses and trains leaving Prague for the small town about an hour outside of the city. Since I needed to make a reservation for my train from Prague to Berlin anyway, I decided to catch a train from the main station.

I left in plenty of time to make my reservation, buy a ticket to Kutná Hora and catch the train. Upon arriving to the station, I first went up to a window that I assumed was for domestic tickets. After waiting an ineffably long time for the woman in front of me to buy her ticket, I stepped up and showed the clerk behind the window the printout from the hostel, with the train I wanted highlighted. He looked confused for a moment, then tried to tell me something in Czech. I tried to explain to him I only spoke English, but as he began to try and explain further, the man behind me in line stepped in to help. “It’s closed today,” he said. “Closed?” I questioned. He nodded, I looked back at the clerk and he nodded, and I stepped out of line, very confused.

Not sure what else to do, I went up to the international ticket line and paid for my reservation to Berlin. Figuring I might as well give Kutná Hora a second try, and went up to a domestic ticket window staffed by a different clerk. Again, I showed the printout. “Not today,” she told me after we went through the English language routine a second time. I didn’t know what to make of all of this, and didn’t think I would have much luck trying to inquire further, so I decided to try and find the Lennon Wall. The problem was, I had left my directions back at the hostel. I decided to take the Metro back, and in the process of doing so, I realized that the bus station that ostensibly had a bus that ran from Prague to Kutná Hora was connected on the same metro line, in the same direction as my hostel. So I hopped on the Metro and hopped off again a stop or two later at the Florenc Station.

I spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes wandering around Florenc Station, trying to find something that resembled a bus depot. I saw signs giving directions for city buses, but nothing that appeared to pertain to bus traveling longer distances. Eventually, I gave up and returned to the hostel for my Lennon Wall directions.

I made it to the Lennon Wall without any difficulty. It was really quite cool. I think pictures will give a much better sense than any description of mine could. After leaving the wall, I went back to Florenc Station, as after looking at a map, I had deduced that perhaps the bus station was slightly south of the metro station. So I exited the Metro, and walked around for a while longer in the direction I figured was probably south. Still no bus station. With no other explanation, I simply decided to believe that Kutná Hora as a town was closed for the day and that there was no way I was going to be able to get there. The Kaufmaniac in me was disappointed, but at least I got to see the Lennon Wall.

That was about it for day 2 in Prague. I went home and took a very satisfying nap, oh, and grabbed a free dinner at the hotel restaurant, using a voucher that Jordan gave me, after the management gave him one as an apology for their bug infested room. Apparently Jordan and Jane had decided the restaurant wouldn’t be able to satisfy their discerning palette, and after eating their myself, I’m certain it wouldn’t have. The Alaskan Cod I ordered was pretty gross and I only ate about half. The cabbage soup was surprisingly good, but not really my thing, dessert was a joke, and there was a fly in my beer. And they charged me extra when I asked for ketchup with my french fries. Oh well, what can I say, it was another free meal.

Exploring Prague

Looking back, I don’t think I did an adequate job in my last post in describing how unsettled I was in my brief Prague encounter when trying to get from the train station to my hostel. Not only did I not really have a clear understanding about where I was going, but I felt more paranoid about my safety than I have at any point previously. To be fair, I think that had less to do with Prague specifically than the fact that I was walking around an unknown city late at night while carrying all my European possessions on my person. Visions of what would happen if I got mugged ran through my head. In addition to my own paranoia though, the city did seem oddly deserted, and so the occasional passersby stuck out as much more spooky and menacing than they really were. By the time I finally arrived at my hostel, I was already wary of Prague. This is all to say that my initial impressions of the city were completely wrong and that after exploring on my own today, in the daylight, I’ve come to find Prague pretty fascinating.

Jordan, Jane and I woke up pretty early due to the sweltering temperature of our room. We grabbed a bit of breakfast in the hostel (I was pleased, the two of them, perhaps not so much). After that we went our separate ways but made plans to meet up again at 6pm for dinner. After a bit of blogging, I set out on foot to see the city. Almost at once everything appeared friendly than I remembered it. The neighborhood surrounding my hostel seemed nicer, and their were people about, giving the area an alive quality it had lacked the night before. I first walked to Prague Castle and spent a bit of time there, walking around, snapping pictures, the usual touristy things. From there, it was across the Charles Bridge and into the city’s Jewish Quarter. Rick Steves had recommended visiting the Old Jewish graveyard, and I was looking forward to seeing it, but when I arrived I realized I would have to pay to go inside, so I passed. From there, it was on to the Old Town Square to see the Astronomical Clock. I arrived at the clock right at the hour, so there was a big crowd gathered around to see moving sculptures that signified a new hour. After the hour changed, the crowd cleared and I got in a bit closer to take pictures. Tired and hungry, I stopped in a fairly Americanized cafe called, I believe, the Culinaria. It got a tasty (and reasonably priced) california wrap, along with a Pilser Urquell (I think that’s what it was called), which is apparently the oldest pilsner beer in the world, and was created in nearby Plzen, through which my train passed the day before.

After lunch, I continued on to Wenceslas Square. I stopped in a bookstore located on the square and bought a copy of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. I had been worried that The Yiddish Policemen’s Union wouldn’t last me through my plane trip back to the U.S. so I decided I had better stock up on more reading material. I had hoped to find Wonder Boys to continue my current Michael Chabon kick, but I think it’s a little old to find a place on the small English language shelves in foreign bookstores. Anyway, I snapped a few pictures of the square, and since I couldn’t quite bring myself to walk back to the hostel, I hopped on a tram. I am now a master of the Prague tram system, although I still don’t know the rules regarding paying/not paying for rides.

After meeting Jordan and Jane in the hostel lobby, we went out to a pizza place they had heard about. They had decided to treat me to dinner for being such a good guy the night before, and I wasn’t about to pass up pizza when the alternative was another night of bread and cheese. I ordered a margherita pizzas, Jordan ordered two margherita pizzas and a plate of wings, and Jane ordered some sort of pesto spaghetti. Apparently they hadn’t eaten all day since they hadn’t left their room all day, so they were pretty hungry. The food eventually came, and while I thought it was perfectly fine, all Jordan could say about the pizza was how bland and dry it was, and how the food in Seattle is so much better. Jane took a few bites of her spaghetti before abandoning it and eating pizza as well, which she agreed was bland. I think Jordan liked his wings though, for the most part.

After dinner I set up shop in the hostel lobby and uploaded every single picture waiting to be uploaded. I am now up to date with my photos. And my blog (well, except for a couple larger, broader themed posts I’m going to write, but I think those are better suited to be written in Amsterdam, as the trip draws to a close). Now it’s time for me to sleep, in order to rest for a trip tomorrow that is mostly inspired by an offhand remark in the Charlie Kaufman magnum opus Adaptation.

Travelin’

Before I get into specifics, here is a rough itinerary of my day yesterday (please note, some times are approximated):

06:00am – 06:05am Gondola from Gimmelwald to Schetelberg
06:12am – 06:28am Bus from Schetelberg to Lauterbrunnen
06:33am – 06:56am Train from Lauterbrunnen to Interlaken
07:01am – 07:38am Train from Interlaken to Thun
07:47am – 08:58am Train from Thun to Zurich
09:13am – 01:45pm Train from Zurich to Munich
02:44pm – 04:47pm Train from Munich to Schwandorf
05:05pm – 05:58pm Train from Schwandorf to Furth i Wald
06:06pm – 06:40pm Bus from Furth i Wald to ???
06:44pm – 07:55pm Train from ??? to Plzen
08:08pm – 09:45pm Train from Plzen to Prague

Needless to say, traveling from Gimmelwald to Prague is a bitch.

Since I was up all night before beginning this minor odyssey, I promptly fell asleep on nearly every train I sat down on. Normally this would have been welcomed, but since many of my early trains were short, half-hour rides, I very nearly slept through my connections in Interlaken, Thun and Zurich. That would have been a mistake.

Most of the rides were uneventful, at least until I arrived in Furth i Wald and went to catch my bus. I had been told the bus would take me directly to Plzen, and would take roughly two hours. However, when I arrived at the bus stop, I saw a huge mass of people gathered and when the bus pulled up, the entire mass pushed forward, vying for a spot on the bus. It turns out there was no need to push, ever single person got on the bus. However, this meant that there were people shoved into every possible inch of the fraking thing. I was lucky to get a seat, but because there were people standing on every inch of aisle space, and there was no spare room anywhere, I spent the duration of the ride with my big travel backpack sitting squarely on my lap.

I also spent most of the trip wandering how such an endeavor was possibly legal. You could hear the motor straining under all the additional weight of people who didn’t have seats, of people who were standing up, of people who were sitting on other’s laps or squished two or three to a seat. I just turned on my iPod and prayed that the bus didn’t have to climb any big hills. About thirty minutes after the bus departed, however, it turned into a tiny train station and the driver directed everybody off the bus. Knowing that we couldn’t possibly be in Plzen yet, I followed the crowd off the bus and on to a tiny two-car train that we were guided to. Assuming, hoping, that the train would take us to Plzen, I found a seat on the train and began reading The Yiddish Policemen’s Union.

Finally I arrived in Prague and immediately, immediately, I felt more culture shock, more out of my element than I have anywhere else on this trip. It’s not just that there’s less translation into English on signs and other information posts then there have been in other countries, though there is, it’s that everything on the whole seems a little less intuitive here than what it does in the rest of Western Europe. I knew the address of my hostel, and I knew roughly where in the city it was located, and I knew roughly what tram stop it was near, but I didn’t know what tram to take or even where to catch the tram. There was a Metro stop in the train station, and I thought about buying a ticket since I found a Metro stop in the vicinity of my hostel after scouring a posted map of the Metro lines, but all the ticket machines only accepted coins, and the only Czech money I had was 200 Kč in bills that I had just gotten from an ATM, and I had no idea how much money 200 Kč actually was, so I didn’t. Instead, I walked around in circles outside the train station for a while. First, I ventured out to try and find a tram stop, assuming there would be one right outside the station. When it became obvious that that was not the case, I decided to try and walk to my hostel. But since I didn’t have a map of my own, and didn’t really know where I was going, I quickly turned around and returned to the train station. I then considered taking a Taxi, but I knew it would be expensive, and since I didn’t know if 200 Kč was a lot of money or not much at all, though I had a feeling it was not much at all (I have since checked and 200 Kč is roughly equivalent to $12), I decided only to take a taxi as I last possible resort.

Back at the station, I stared at the tram map for a long time, and discovered that I needed to take the number 3 tram to my hostel, and that there was a number 3 tram stop a little ways north of the station. I eventually found the tram stop, but once there, I found that the number “3″ on the sign had been crossed through with an official looking sticker. Apparently the 3 didn’t stop there anymore. After spending even more time staring at the map, I deduced that there was a 3 tram stop somewhere nearby, but since my magical powers of navigation don’t work outside of western Europe, I had no idea where that somewhere was. So I walked around for a while longer in random directions. For a while I kind of followed a group of American kids with backpacks who kind of sort of seemed to know where they were going, but that got creepy after a while, so I returned to my original not number 3 tram stop. By now it was after 11pm and I had been futilely exploring Prague for almost an hour and a half. I tried to divine more information from the tram map, and eventually I discerned that the 9 tram, which did leave from that stop, eventually crossed paths with the 3 tram. The problem was, I had no idea which way I needed to take the 9 tram to reach that intersection point.

I waited around for the 9 tram, figuring I’d take it in one direction, and if that turned out to be the wrong way, I just take another 9 tram the opposite way. The trouble was, I knew the trams stopped running shortly after midnight, so I was going to have to figure things out fast. However, while I was waiting for the 9 on one side of the street, I saw another 9 tram going in the opposite direction stop on the other side of the street. Figuring “what the Hell?” I jogged across the street and stepped on the tram just before it pulled away. I moved up to the front of the tram to pay for my trip, but I quickly realized there wasn’t any place to pay. Not knowing what else to do, and perfectly okay with taking a free ride, I took a seat. I knew the stop that intersected with the 3 was the first stop, so either way, whether I was going in the right direction or the wrong, I knew I needed to get off at the first stop. I hopped off at the next stop, and lo and behold, the 3 was to come by in about twenty minutes. A couple minutes later, though, I saw the 5 tram come by. After quickly looking over the tram schedule for one final time, I realized that the 5 also stopped near my hostel, so I hopped on.

Around 11:45pm I finally checked into my hostel. On top of that, they provided free wifi in the lobby, so before I even took my luggage to my room, I plopped down on an easy chair and plugged in. It was glorious. A while later though, in the middle of watching George Carlin’s Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television bit, a guy comes up to me. I recognize him from the Hellish bus ride earlier in the day. He explains that he and his girlfriend have had a terrible day, and asks if he can use my laptop for a minute to look up the access number for their phone cards so they can call home and ask their parents for more money. I say sure, pause the Carlin bit, and let them sit down.

I get to talking to them for a bit and learn about the pretty shitty experience they’ve had traveling across Europe for the past week. They’ve had train problems and hostel problems and money problems and the girl, Jane, got sick for two days while in Paris. It was just one thing after another. This was their first week of traveling out of a total of six, and with five weeks still to go, I got the impression they just kind of wanted to go home. On top of everything else, when they opened the window to their room a whole swarm of bugs flew in, rendering the room inhabitable, so they had brought their blankets and pillows downstairs to sleep in the lobby for the night.

They had started their trip in London, spent a day there, a day in Amsterdam, two days in Paris and a day in Munich before arriving in Prague. Apparently they hated Amsterdam, but I got the impression they didn’t venture very far outside of the Red-Light District / Dam Square area. They complained that the city had been dirty and the food disgusting, which hadn’t been my experience at all in the four months I was there, but I didn’t say anything. In fact, food seemed to be a major source of their disappointment in Europe so far. Apparently they spent the night at a Stayokay in Amsterdam and were really unimpressed with the free breakfast provided. I stayed at a Stayokay in Maastricht, so I know roughly the kind of breakfasts they provide, and while it’s not spectacular, it was easily the best hostel breakfast I’ve had. I think maybe they need to readjust their food expectations for being on a budget in Europe–they seemed surprised to learn I’d been living out of grocery stores for the past couple weeks, basically subsisting on bread, cheese and occasionally salami.

I went up to check out my room for a while and to drop off my bags, leaving then down in the lobby to send emails on my laptop. I was surprised to discover that, instead of being in a 6-bed room as I had expected, I was in a private bedroom suite that shared a bathroom with another bedroom. It was way nice than I was expecting and was a very pleasant discovery. Back downstairs I told Jordan and Jane that, though it wouldn’t be very comfortable, they would be welcome to sleep on the floor of my room if they wanted a bit more privacy than what the lobby would offer. They were incredibly appreciative, as they had been all evening, and seemed really relieved they wouldn’t have to cram onto the lobby’s small and uncomfortable couches. I was happy to help out and just wanted to do something to try and help these guys finally have a decent time in Europe.

We headed up to my room soon after, and they spread out on the floor and I climbed into bed and we all passed out after a long and trying day.

Gettin’ Shit Done

I spent my last day in Gimmelwald finishing my Regulating Religious and Cultural Diversity in the Netherlands final paper. When I began the day, I had 2,002 words written. By the time I finished writing, shortly after midnight, I had 4,534. Not bad for a day’s work. Perhaps it would have been more impressive if I had, I don’t know, actually turned the paper in on time, rather than two weeks late, but you can’t always get what you want. Plus, there were extenuating circumstances (see: AC adapter getting fried). Honestly, I think things worked out better this way. I would have felt shitty spending a day in Barcelona or Paris writing, but here, in Gimmelwald, where there is absolutely nothing to do, it felt like an excellent use of my time.

And it’s not even like I didn’t do anything else today, oh no. I began the day early, at 8:30am (!!!) and set out for a hike that kept me out and about until noon. That reminds me:

Tim’s Rules of Travel: #4

Sambas, manufactured by the Adidas Corporation, do not constitute adequate footwear for hiking in the Swiss Alps. They just don’t provide the necessary traction for steep, downhill climbs. You have been warned.

My train leaves tomorrow at 7:01am. But the station is about an hour away, and I need to take a gondola, a bus, and another train just to get there. The first gondola leaves Gimmelwald at 6am, so I’m going to be cutting things pretty damn close. But since I would have to wake up at a ridiculous hour to perform the necessary checking out tasks before catching the gondola, I’ve decided just to stay up all night and sleep tomorrow on the train to Prague. I trust you will agree with my decision.

Gimmelwald

Today I arrived in a very small town in the Swiss Alps called Gimmelwald. The town is tiny. It has a hostel, a restaurant, a bed and breakfast or two, a very basic general store, I think a school, houses and farms. To get here from Interlaken, a very touristy town at the base of the Alps, I had to take a train, followed by a bus, followed by a ride on a gondola up the mountain. It’s gorgeous, but it was kind of hellish getting here.

I woke up at 6:40am, hoping I would have enough time to catch my 7:58am train out of Paris. I grabbed a bit of breakfast to take with me as soon as the hostel cafeteria opened at 7am, and headed to the Metro. After switching trains twice, I found myself waiting for my third Metro at 7:39am. Thankfully, the last ride was the shortest and I made it to the station in just enough time to catch my train. This wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t have to haul all my luggage with me, but since I did, the back of my t-shirt was pretty will soaked in sweat from my big travel backpack by the time I climbed into my seat.

I slept most of the way from Paris to Interlaken, waking up briefly when a drug sniffing dog was brought down the aisle. I had a momentary flash of panic about Amsterdam related substances, but everything was fine, of course. In Interlaken, I reserved my train ticket to Munich (where I will buy another ticket to Prague) and bought a ticket to Lauterbrunnen, the next stop on the way to Gimmelwald. With about 40 minutes until my train, and an uncertain sense as to whether I would be able to buy food in Gimmelwald, I decided to hunt around Interlaken for a grocery store. I eventually found one (I passed, I shit you not, a Hooter’s on the way), and grabbed a Mango Fanta, some bread and some cheese. At the register, this purchase came to 9.20 swiss francs, and when I handed the cashier my credit card, I was informed that the minimum purchase was ten francs. Not knowing what else to do, and entranced by the giant wall of cigarettes behind her, I told the cashier to toss in a pack of Camel Filters and a lighter.

With only about fifteen minutes until my train was to leave, I hustled back to the station, worried I was going to be too late. I made it just in time however, my back again sweat soaked. After the ride to Lauterbrunnen, I caught a bus to Stechelberg, and from there I caught the gondola up to Gimmelwald. After dropping my bags off at the hostel, I went for a short walk around the town, and took a seat at a bench with a spectacular view. I smoked my first cigarette there and, excuse me for maybe being overly dramatic, but it felt wrong, like I was contaminating nature, destroying its pristine beauty. It also tasted pretty gross. It might be more of a chore than I thought to finish this pack before returning home. I guess cigarettes just don’t taste as good outside of Amsterdam.

Sitting on the bench I realized that I reached the two week mark of my travels today. A week from tomorrow I will be back in Amsterdam, and a couple days after that I will be home. I can’t say that I’m not looking forward to being back, because I am, but at the same time, I really am enjoying my travels and seeing so much of Europe. It will be nice just to have the luxury of taking it easy for a while, though.