Shit- Greece Almost Killed Me For Real

          For me, spring break isn't about the beach, the sun, or big fruity cocktails- it's about near death experiences. Sure, relaxing can be fun, but if you've got the chance to go careening off of a 500 foot cliff, I think you've got to take it. That's what studying abroad is all about, right? Taking risks, being crazy, letting go. And, of course, riding donkeys.

          In spite of all that, I'd say our trip started out normally enough. We took a ferry from Athens to Santorini, a little island in the middle of the Mediterranean. Coming in on the ferry, the island almost looks like snow-covered mountains, but in reality the “snow” is hundreds of white buildings. It's pretty incredible.

Coming into town

          The first thing we did (after eating, obviously) was hit the beach. It was only about 65 degrees, but we got in our swimsuits and began tanning. We didn't really stop until the sun went down the next day. Even though it wasn't that warm, that much sunlight after a few months in Prague shocked my system. I thought that after living in Arizona for three years I'd be immune to sunburn. I was wrong.

It's kind of pretty here.

The beach.  Nice.

          We would've kept tanning for the rest of the trip, but sadly this wasn't an option. The weather fell to 55 degrees, and it was windy and rainy. I was stuck with my reddish-orange two day tan, which I'm happy to report I'm still peeling off. It was worth it, though. Besides, it's fun to rub skin flakes on other people. They generally don't react positively.

          Anyway, if we couldn't hang out at the beach as often, we had to do something else, right? Hey, how about we rent ATVs and zip around the island? Yeah, that sounds great to me!

          I'll admit it- I've only ridden on an ATV once, and I don't feel safe on them at all. As in, I don't feel great about riding in a parking lot, with no one else around. So you can imagine how thrilled I was to be on the island's main road, cars whizzing by us every few seconds. And look, now it's raining! That only adds to the enjoyment one gets from flying around hairpin turns on incredibly steep cliffs. Not to mention, the roads are nice and narrow. That's because gigantic tour buses like a little challenge when they have to pass by an ATV. How close can you get without crushing the tourists and sending them hurtling over the ledge? Woops, Fred, looks like I lost! But watch that thing flying through the air- I bet it's a good hundred feet out from land! That's a real fine piece of work, right there.

          Needless to say, there was no way in hell I was getting behind the wheel of one of these things. But the person driving me, who happened to be a bit of a farm girl, seemed not to have a care in the world. Her philosophy was to see how fast she could get the vehicle to go. The answer: fast enough to completely terrify me. This was one of those times where I didn't think I was going to die- I knew it. Here it is. My death. Not exactly how I envisioned it, but there could be worse ways to go. Look around- I'm going to perish on a picturesque Greek island. That's not so bad. What about the funeral? I bet a lot of people will show. They'll be devastated. Kids who I went to elementary school with will reappear just to say goodbye to me. I tried to think of last words that I could type into my phone, but nothing came to me. Besides, I couldn't bring myself to pry my hands away from the support bars. So there would be no last words if anyone went through my text messages. Just a grocery list.

          I didn't just accept death, I was resigned to it. But somehow, miraculously, I didn't kick the bucket. We visited a few of the small towns on the island, looked at the shops, ate gelato and gyros. And I was still alive. Amazing. The way back was no better, but I made it. I promised I would never get on an ATV for the rest of my life. I had been spared, and I needed to be grateful. Plus, I absolutely hate ATVs. (Unsurprisingly, when my friends wanted to rent ATVs a couple days later, I went with them. I have no willpower. And I didn't want to be alone all day. Pathetic, I know.)

          While one near death experience is nice, three are better. Near death experience #2 was on a boat ride in the Mediterranean. We got to go out to a volcanic island and walk around on it, which was very cool. But when we got back on our boat, suddenly the waters turned choppy. The boat would ride up a wave at a 45 degree angle, and then come crashing down over it, drenching everyone on deck. For some reason, I was less scared of this than the ATVs. It reminded me of one of those Splash Mountain type rides at an amusement park. I guess it was surreal enough not to be scary.

          Next, the boat took us to a “hot springs” area. The only problem was that we had to stop a hundred meters before the springs, and then swim to them. I'm a fairly good swimmer, so no big deal. I got down to my swimsuit, prepared to jump off the boat with a few other brave souls, and I realize that it's freezing. This is before I jumped in. Well, it's now or never. I jumped and HOLY SHIT it's cold and my mouth is full of salt water. Christ, make it to the springs. Just make it there. I start swimming like crazy and have two revelations- 1) I haven't swam laps in years and 2) I am out of shape. This combination, along with the freezing water, did not bode well for me. I tried to keep my head above to prevent any more salt water from getting in my eyes and mouth, but eventually I gave up, and went full speed ahead. When I finally got to the hot springs, let me tell you- they were lukewarm at most. And that was fantastic. The fifteen minutes in there passed by way too quickly. Then, we had to swim back to the boat, and going from hot to cold might've been even worse. I got on the boat and toweled off, but I was shaking. I dressed, put a coat on, had my hood up and everything. And I could not get warm. The boat came back into the dock and my teeth were still chattering. It was a good two hours before my body temperature returned to normal.

          After surviving ATVs and pneumonia, I was beginning to feel invincible. But I shouldn't have been so confident, because the next thing I knew, I was riding a donkey. I wouldn't normally have a problem with riding one, but again, I'm going along 500 foot cliffs with an unstable animal. We went higher and higher along this winding walkway, and I swear my donkey was drunk. He would swerve from one side of the walkway to the other, bringing me right up to the edge and threatening to throw me off. Then suddenly, he would break into a sprint up the stairs. He also liked to get us close to the wall (which was only a couple feet high in most places) so my leg would be crushed between the donkey and the stone. Ow.

Asses.

          Once the two hour ride up ended (slight exaggeration), I hopped off, still mostly intact. I walked up the last few stairs, dodging donkeys all the way. One donkey started walking directly towards me. I barely avoid it and BAM, I feel like I just got hit by Ray Lewis. I see stars. What the hell was that? “Oh sorry,” says some British person. I slowly put it together- I just took a knee to the temple. Christ.

           But I even made it through the Grade 1 concussion. And yes, while Greece almost killed me, I had some fun times there, too. Our hostel was beautiful, more like a hotel or a resort than anything. There was a 24 hour bakery that served amazing bread and baklava and huge donuts the size of pies. I swear those donuts were crafted by the hands of God. I ate the most delicious lamb gyros I've ever had, and I ate a lot of them. I hung out at the beach, hiked a little, and got a nice tan. I drank Ouzo with the Greeks. I watched the sun rise and the moon hang over the sea.

          And I even lived to tell the story.       

Breakfast With Kelli/More Bad Places

          Sometimes, you just know a trip is going to go perfectly. You wake up bright and early, roll out of bed, step out into the living room, and smell something burning. That's how I like to start my vacations, at least. In the living room, standing next to to a smoking microwave, was none other than Kelli. She pulled the charred remains of something from the microwave and threw it in the sink. I was in a fog from sleep (and I guess from the smoke, too) and could only come up with one word: “What?”

          “Oh,” she said. “My shirt wasn't dry, so I threw it in there for a few seconds- could you open the window?” She spoke casually, like baking t-shirts was the most natural thing in the world to do. I mean, really, if you haven't almost burnt down an apartment making crispy, blackened tanktop, you haven't lived! I still couldn't think straight, so I just went over to the window and opened it. At this point, I've learned to stop asking questions.

          After airing out the house, we took the long bus ride to Budapest. When we arrived, the first thing we did was set out to find our hostel. On the website, it looked picturesque and romantic. In reality...not so much. It took us a while to find it, because it was hidden behind a two foot wide iron gate- the kind of gate that leads into a back alley where trash is collected. We opened the gate and walked in, and well, I wouldn't have been surprised to see a garbageman or two hanging out there.  It was a little more open, but empty and dark and not very inviting. We looked at each other, as if to say, “What did we get ourselves into this time?” and then we began climbing the stairs.

          Once we made it to the top of the staircase, we were greeted by our hosts. They took us inside the hostel, which was very cozy- probably only twenty people could stay at once. Well, it was cozy in size, but not exactly in temperature. We opened the door to our room and were hit with a blast of 55* air. Honestly, I think they had to have been air conditioning the place to keep it that cool.

          Somehow, it was kind of charming, though, and the people who worked there were incredibly nice. They showed us everywhere we could go in the city, and pointed out fun things to do and see. One night, they even cooked dinner for us (It wasn't the best, but it's the thought that counts, anyway). And, interestingly enough, they seemed very intent on getting us drunk. Every time we entered the main room of the hostel, we were asked, “Would you like wine?” or “Would you like some special Hungarian alcohol? Very strong!” or “You like Smirnoff? Have a drink!” Needless to say, I enjoyed Hungarian hospitality.

          The city of Budapest (really Buda and Pest, if you want to nitpick) was beautiful while we were there. It was 65* and sunny the first couple of days, which is the warmest temperature I've felt since early December in Arizona. Walking along the Danube, feeling the breeze off the water...it was just nice. The city itself was almost like a brother to Prague- the architecture, the size, the pace of life- all were similar, although the people in general were friendlier. For example, right when we got in, an old lady noticed us looking at a map, and walked over to ask us if there's anything she could do to help. We thanked her and said we were all right. She smiled and said, “Enjoy your stay in Budapest!” Then she hobbled away. Things like that don't happen most places.

          With regard to the touristy stuff, we visited the castle complex, which was...full of buildings. I'm not going to lie, I have nothing left to say about castles, except they prove that Cribs could have been a hit at any point in human history. The views of the city from the complex were cool, though.

The Cathedral at Budapest Castle

View of Buda and Pest...or Pest and Buda.  Ah, who the hell knows.

A little girl walking around the castle.

          Budapest is also somewhat known for its bathhouses, so we checked that out, too. There were a bunch of different temperature baths, ranging from freezing to burning, that people were hanging out in. The specific bath house we went to was open for late night swims, so we went during the 10PM to 4AM session. A surprisingly decent amount of people were there, too. And no, nobody was naked (although there were a couple Speedos). All in all, I've seen much worse at the J back home.

          We also decided to go to a flea market, because it sounded like it could be interesting. When we told the woman at the front desk of the hostel, she laughed and said, “Oh yeah? You'll see lots of strange people there. Homeless people, you know? I can show you more bad places to go, if you want.” We laughed and said no, we just wanted to see this one. And it turned out the woman had a point- there were some strange people at the flea market, but what else did we expect? The area was like a fair ground, with hundreds of merchants hocking their crap. Personally, I was quite content. I got a couple of good souvenirs that weren't just the run-of-the-mill t-shirts you find everywhere.

          Other stuff we did:

We went to the catacombs in Budapest.  They were pretty scary, and occasionally giant heads popped out of the ground.

         

We toured the 2nd biggest synagogue in the world!  I also got a souvenir yarmulke here.  OK, fine.  I stole it. 

Inside the synagogue 

I call this one, "The Temptation of the Jews."

          

          I'll admit, I was kind of sad to leave Budapest and our little hostel. Walking out of the cold room, down the stairs, and down the alleyway for the last time- I knew I would miss it. A trip that had seemed destined for disaster ended up becoming one of my favorite experiences in Europe. Not a bad weekend at all.

I'm An Actor, And...

          Living in Europe isn't easy. In the last three weeks, I had to travel to Berlin, Paris, and Budapest, all while going to school. Not that it's negatively affecting my grades or anything. I definitely didn't get a 7/17 on my first quiz. I've been studying way too hard for something like that to happen. Ahem. The good news, though, is that these three cities were all lots of fun. We were only in Berlin for two days, so while I had a good time, I don't have much to say about it. Paris, on the other hand, had some more interesting moments.

          We got into Paris at about 8 AM, and the metro station was insane. Prague has a metro station, too, but it's a pretty laid back city. In Paris, people were just about sprinting to get across the station. At first, I didn't even think I'd be able to move without causing a collision. In the end, I barely maneuvered my suitcase and myself through the crowd, and I'm sure I ran into a few people along the way. But in a way, that scene in the metro was representative of Paris as a whole- bigger, faster-paced, and more exciting than any other city I've seen.

          After we settled into the hostel, we journeyed out onto a 3 and a half hour walking tour. That was enough time to see most of the major landmarks in Paris, and also make my legs really hurt. Even though we had metro passes, we walked everywhere in Paris, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It was nice to explore the city. I took pictures at the classic tourist spots- The Eiffel Tower, The Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, etc.

Notre Dame

The Arc.  

Oooh, Aaah.

          During the days, we also went to two of Europe's most famous art museums- the Louvre and the Musee D'orsay, where we saw paintings by Da Vinci, Van Gogh, and Gauguin. I wore a beret and scarf the entire time, while I puffed on a cigar and opined about the influence of the French Revolution on Impressionism. OK, not really. But the paintings (and sculptures) were usually interesting to see, even if I don't have a great background in art history.

          We also went to Montmartre, which I highly recommend visiting if you're in Paris. It's more of the romanticized idea of France that I had before coming here. It's hilly, beautiful, and slower-paced- a welcome break from the craziness of the city. We also got some good food up there. Heck, we got good food everywhere. Especially desserts. Nutella and banana crepes, warm apple tarts, and a huge goblet of chocolate mousse that was so rich I could only eat half of it. And trust me, I wanted to eat more. So, so good.

Montmartre

          Of course, Paris had some...out of the ordinary moments, too. The first night we wandered the city, only to be met by a midnight march of a hundred or more people. Naturally, I pulled out my camera and started taping it. A few seconds lated, a man came up to me and began shouting in French. I could tell it was about my camera, and I thought he was going to grab it and throw it to the ground. He soon realized that I didn't speak French very well, and told me in English that I had to stop filming, and that if this was uploaded on Youtube they'd all be arrested. I said OK, and he left. I don't know the point of marching if no one's going to see it, but that's his problem, I guess. Seconds later, we heard what sounded like either a firecracker or a gunshot. We hurried up and got away from the protest.

          Another strange moment- sitting on the metro late at night, having a conversation with a couple of my friends. We were talking about normal, everyday things- nothing special. The metro comes to a halt, and a man to our right says in English: “Excuse me, I'm an actor.” At this point I'm wondering if we're on some hidden camera show. Is Chris Hansen right around the corner? I swear, this isn't what it looks like! Anyway, the man continued: “I've been living in Paris for eight years. Let me just say that conversation was just perfect. You guys should do a web series.” “Um...thanks,” we said. He got off the metro, leaving us to wonder if maybe we were more entertaining than we gave ourselves credit for.

          Finally, we decided to go to the Eiffel Tower one night, as it sparkles at the turn of every hour. We trekked down there, and made it right as the show started. After it ended, we decided to continue with even more pictures. Someone suggested that Kelli and I (for the sake of art) take a picture of us kissing in front of the tower. Not my idea, but sure. First attempt, we kiss, the picture doesn't really turn out. The photographer mentions that we should kiss more passionately. My hands were resting on Kelli's sides as I attempted a more “passionate” kiss. I think she might have been trying to make it more dramatic (or just trying to get away from me), but she decided to lean back. I wasn't holding her up at all, so I reached out to grab her as she was falling. Sadly, I only ended up falling on top of her, which I'm guessing wasn't very comfortable. But we did get our own romantic picture in front of the Eiffel Tower, and I have to say, it turned out just fine.    

19 Pictures

          Yup, this is going to be a “visual” post. (Better known as a lazy post. Sorry.) But here are nineteen pictures.  Yay! I'll try to write something either tonight or tomorrow, maybe about my trip to Berlin this past weekend. 

          Anyway, why nineteen? The Chicago Black Sox won the world series in 1919, 19 apparently has some religious significance in the Quran, and I was 19 a year ago. Or maybe I could only find nineteen decent pictures. Really, who knows?

This was taken at Kutna Hora, a small town about 2 hours from Prague.  It's best known for  its church and its bones.  

CREEPY!  At Kutna Hora again.  The previous caption might make more sense now.  We visited an ossuary which contained tens of thousands of human bones.  It was also really cold there. 

Taken at a cathedral.  I call this one, "Jesus loves candles and you."

Taken in front of a doorway.  Why is there a doorway in the doorway?  Was the big one too hard to open?  Just another mystery of the universe.

This guy sat in a room all day and made fake coins for tourists who came through.  I also thought he looked quite dramatic.

I think we're still at Kutna Hora here.  I'm a kind of a fan of the tall, skinny trees.   They look like me! 

This is the cathedral at Kutna Hora, all silhouetted and pretty. Also, you'll notice the flying buttresses on the  left of the building.   I've learned so much from my art and architecture class!  (Not really.)

That sky looks painted on, and I like it.

A clearer view of the cathedral at Kutna Hora.  Very cool.

So we took a field trip to this "interactive museum," and were surprised to find about 400 elementary schoolers there.  We all felt completely out of place.  There were blocks and sticks and pieces of metal lying around everywhere, and kids were smashing stuff together and building things and being crazy.  It was kind of like a science center on crack.  But nobody was doing crack there.  Or taking random pictures of the kids.  Oh yeah, except me.

This was at Dachau.  Concentration camps don't actually look like this.  

Another random picture, taken on a street corner.  The dad looks so stuffy and European.  And  the little kid makes me laugh.

 On a window in Munich.  The full transcription: 

Well, the situation was...well, you know the situation...I don't know much about you...you have asked me a lot of things, I didn't, I couldn't ask so much...

Why?

Yeah...because yeah...I think, because, yeah, I am not used to asking too much of these kind of questions, but yeah...Now I know a little bit who you are...and that is nice.

Only in Germany.

I call this one, "Jesus on the toilet, talking on his cell phone."

Yeah, I take a lot of random pictures.  Here's some made-up dialogue between these two guys:
Guy on left:  Dude, that is a really sweet beard.
Guy on right:  Someday, with great effort, perseverance, and willpower, you too can grow a beard like this.  Now stop looking at me.

Saw this sign for a movie ad in Germany.  Does that guy in the middle look familiar?  He should, because he's 16 year old me!  

No seriously, I'm in a movie!

This tower is located in front of the Charles Bridge, which is one of the famous landmarks and historic places in Prague.  You can also go up inside it...

And get a nice view of Prague.  Spring is right around the corner, and people are starting to come out in bunches.  The Charles Bridge is on the left.

Go ahead and put that on a postcard.

A Contest/I Could've Hit Him With A Stick

          I have a friend who I'll call Charlie. Charlie likes women and he likes to drink. Not a bad philosophy if you ask me. Anyway, one night our group decided that we should go to a gay club. It was a little outside Charlie (and my) comfort zone, but we agreed to at least give it a chance. The problem was, the balance between the two core principles of our lives (women and drinking) would be slightly off. This called for an adjustment. We figured less girls meant only one thing- we needed more alcohol.

          On the way to grab some drinks, we talked about what we thought it would be like in the club.

          “You think any girls will be there?” I asked.

          “Probably. Girls love hanging around gay guys. I bet there are a bunch of them with their guards  down,” he said.

          “Your pickup line could be, “Hey baby, guess what? I'm not gay.”

          “You never know, that might work. We're going to be a hot commodity. You'll see.”

          Of course, we really had no idea what to expect. Especially from the guys. Were we going to get hit on? It sounds ridiculous, and it's not the most rational thought to have, but there it was, in the back of both our minds.

          “I'm sure guys don't approach just anyone,” I said.

          “I wonder if they'll be able to tell we're straight.”

          “The club's going to be dark, so I doubt it,” I said.

          “What if we got them to buy us drinks?” he said, laughing.

          “We could make a contest out of it,” I said. “Whoever gets the most free drinks wins.”

          “And after you get your drink, you just say, “Thanks, but you're not really my type.”

          “Perfect.”

          

          So we bought our not-free drinks and headed back to the apartment. Once the whole group got “prepared” for the night ahead, we set out in search of the club. It was a few metro stops away. Sadly, when we got there, the club was closed. Bummer. Then, we noticed another club right down the block. Men were lined up outside the door. I have to say, it looked pretty gay to me.

         We got in the line, and it shrank quickly. We made our way past the bouncer and into the club. A dark stairway led down to a bar and dance floor. I scanned the crowded room. I didn't see many girls with their “guards down.” I didn't see many girls at all. There were three girls in our group, thereby making the total in the club at least five. We squeezed through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Guys were everywhere, but none of them approached me or Charlie.  Not to buy us drinks.  Not even to dance.  I would've turned them down anyway, but it was still kind of disappointing. I mean, I thought I looked good, but I guess I was wrong.

         I noticed Charlie had found two girls, and was chatting them up. I could tell from their body language that it was not going well (it turned out they were lesbians). Charlie wobbled back to our group, defeated. It looked like he was starting to feel the alcohol, too. He got up on stage with one of our girls and began to dance. While dancing, he was somehow able to bum a cigarette and a light off of two different guys. Finally, some success. Unfortunately, Charlie wasn't in the best state to be smoking. A couple of us noticed embers and ashes fluttering down from his cigarette onto one of the girls' hair. The embers caught. We saw it and pounced. We were able to put it out before anything serious happened, but the result was a burned hand for one unlucky member of our group.

         Charlie vanished for a few minutes, and the rest of us kept dancing. After a little while we decided to go look for him. We found him, but he wasn't in one place for long- he was being hauled out by the bouncer. A door slammed shut behind the two of them, and they were gone. Oh god.  

         We all agreed that it would be best to leave the club. We picked up our coats and made our way to the door. Outside, Charlie was leaning against the wall, looking unhappy. We began to walk home and piece the story together. Apparently, Charlie had run into a waiter who was carrying a tray full of drinks. The tray of drinks ended up on the ground, and Charlie ended up outside. Charlie said the waiter had rushed around the corner, and it wasn't his fault. He was angry about the whole thing, too.

          “Damn it, I could've whooped the bouncer's ass!” he said. “He was 5'1''! FIVE FOOT ONE!”

          There's nothing that gets the rage flowing quite like being thrown out of a gay club by a tiny bouncer. We might've teased Charlie a little, too.

          “The bouncer definitely could've taken you,” someone said. “You're lucky you didn't fight back.”

          “I could've stomped him! I could've hit him with a stick!” Charlie said.

          “You couldn't pick up a stick right now.”

          “Whatever. Screw all of you.”

          We looked back at Charlie and laughed. He stumbled from one side of the walkway to the other.

          “Look on the bright side- you got a free cigarette out of the deal,” I said. “It's not exactly a drink, but I'd still say you won our contest.”

          “One cigarette? Are you kidding me?” he said. He laughed. “I got at least three.”

Barney Stinson and Beer Halls

          I was in Munich this weekend, and there were a lot of “firsts” for me. First time in Germany, first time going to an Olympic Park (it was cool), first time in a beer hall, and maybe most importantly, first time in a hostel. If you've never been to a hostel, I don't recommend the experience at all. Sleeping in a small room with six or eight other people and sharing a bathroom and miniature shower sounds fun in theory...who am I kidding?- it sounds awful. I will say it's cheap, but definitely not my favorite way to travel. Oh well. The point isn't to stay inside a little room while you're in a foreign city, anyway. But were there any benefits to staying in a hostel besides cost? I guess you could say so. We did meet an interesting person or two.

          After a day spent all around Munich, we came back to the hotel and took a short nap. When we woke up, voila, there was a young German man in lederhosen standing right in front of us.

          “Allo,” he said. He had a goofy grin on his face.

          “Hey,” we said back.

          “What doing in Munchen where from,” he said.

          One of my friends and I looked at each other, obviously confused. Most of the Germans we'd encountered spoke pretty clear English, especially compared to all the “Czechlish” we've been hearing for the past couple weeks. But this guy was borderline impossible to understand. We didn't know what to say, so we didn't say anything. Finally, he reached out his hand. 

          “Andy,” he said. That was easier. We introduced ourselves and he started to slow down a little bit. He was from Germany, but apparently his plans fell through with a friend, so he had to stay in a hostel. He quickly asked, “Girls in room?” to which we said we didn't think so. “No good!” he said. “Need the girls. Girls like how may mother.” Again, we had no idea. He kept trying. “I'm Barney Stisson. I learned all the moves. You know, how may mother,” he said. Something clicked and I realized he was talking about the TV show, “How I Met Your Mother.” I busted up laughing. His skills with the ladies were based off of an American sitcom character who also happens to be gay. I bet Andy had a lot of success with his “moves.”

         We talked for a while longer, and Andy told us what he'd been doing all day: “Brauhaus since 10.” A brauhaus is a beer hall. And 10 as in 10 A.M. It was now past 7 P.M. That explained the poor English and slurred words. Andy was drunk. However, he was also a pretty nice guy. He invited us to go to another beer hall with him and “Spanish girls.” Who better than a German to show us around Germany? So we went.

          We left the hostel and actually met up with three girls from Spain. Maybe Andy had learned a thing or two from How I Met Your Mother. We hopped on a tram and headed in the direction of a beer hall across town. And of course, the first thing we see when we get on the tram is a group of thirty belligerently drunk, cross-dressing males. I think trouble just seems to find us.

Oh hey there!

"So...you doin' anything later?"

          I couldn't tell if Andy knew them, but he made friends with them in seconds. They were all laughing and shouting and posing for other passengers on the tram. They also had a giant case of beer with them, and they each seemed to have a bottle in hand, as well. It was one of the more interesting tram rides I've been on in Europe.

          Once we got off the tram, it was a short walk to the beer hall. Naturally, our cross-dressing friends got off right along with us. The short walk to the beer hall wasn't a speedy one, as the cross-dressers took the opportunity to proposition the drivers of pretty much every car that passed by. I wish I could erase the image of these guys on the street corner, hiking up there skirts and waving at drivers. But unfortunately I think it's seared into my brain.

Strutting their stuff

          We walked into the beer hall in a giant group. A beer hall is kind of like a tavern/cafeteria that seats hundreds, where everyone eats sausage by the kilogram and drinks beer by the liter. Needless to say, it's usually a wild place to begin with. Our entrance was greeted with yells and whistles and laughter. At least they were happy to see us.

Beer Hall

          We ended up separating from our German friends, as well as Andy, so we could find a place to sit and enjoy ourselves. We ordered food and drinks, and for once, it was really good. (Aside: German food is the worst cuisine I've ever experienced. Case in point: this "meatloaf."  I almost puked before I ate it.)

Bon Appetit!  

          A couple of the guys got pork knuckle, which I wish I had ordered, even though my food was nice. The pork knuckle was truly delicious. Next time, I know what to get. Anyway, we stayed there for a while, drinking and eating. We sat by a group of Germans, who I guess took a liking to us. We didn't say much to them, but they bought us a couple rounds of pear shots. I like Germans.

          We spent a few hours there, and then we figured it was time to get going out. We thanked the Germans for the alcohol and made our way to the exit. As we walked to the door, we saw a handful of our cross-dressing acquaintances, mostly with their heads down on tables, passed out. I wasn't surprised. After a busy day in Munich, we decided to go back to the hostel and get a little sleep, too.            

The Nazis Are Coming

          Just like Michael Jordan, Johnny Cash, and Jesus, the Nazis are making a comeback. How do I know? Well, for one, I went to Munich, Germany this past weekend. It was a lot of fun, don't get me wrong, but I still felt a distinctive Gestapo presence. They were everywhere- on trams, in beer halls, and in the city center. And, to make themselves harder to identify, they even dressed in normal, everyday clothes. To the untrained eye, they might have seemed like plain old Germans. There wasn't any of the saluting or yelling or marching that Americans have come to associate with the Nazi party, either. Instead, this comeback appears to be taking place secretly, a kind of underground uprising. But, of course, I was able to see through their act. I wasn't fooled.

          OK, so that last paragraph might have been an exaggeration. I don't really have a whole lot of evidence that Nazism is making its return to Germany. That didn't stop me from imagining it, though. I couldn't help it- this was my first time in Germany, and at the beginning it was all I could think about. I'd get on the metro and see someone and wonder if they had Nazi sympathies. Or at least if they had ancestors involved in World War II. I figured that was a pretty good bet. And, oh look, that guy has a shaved head! NEO-NAZI!!

          Anyway, eventually my friends and I (there were four of us) got tired of waiting for the SS to show up, so we went out to track them down on our own. We decided a great place to start would be Dachau, which was used as a concentration camp in WWII. So, on a cold, gloomy Saturday morning, we took the bus out there. About thirty people were on the bus with us. When we arrived, we saw about fifty more at the entrance. If this was any indication, it seemed like it would be pretty crowded in there. It was hard to tell, though. We split up from the rest of the group and went inside.

          Once we entered the camp, we found a barren, desolate, huge plot of land. Nobody else was around. The grounds were mostly empty space in the middle, where the dozens of barracks had been. There were walkways around the edges, and one main walkway down the middle of the street. The middle path held special importance during prisoner's internments, as it was a gathering point and the main area of liveliness in an otherwise torturous place. Also, there was way more room out in the street than in the barracks, which had been built for two hundred people, but at times housed over two thousand.

Middle Street

Bodies were cremated in these.  Yikes.

Where one of the barracks used to be.

Little kid, all alone :(

          Let me tell you, it was just about the perfect day to go to a concentration camp. The gray skies and drizzling rain provided great atmosphere. We only saw a few other people as we walked around, which contributed to what my friend described as a, “feeling of death in the air.” I had to agree with him- there was a relentless emptiness surrounding the camp. It definitely wasn't the same bustling center of commerce from sixty-some odd years ago!

          All joking aside for a minute, this was an incredibly depressing place to visit. It hits home when you actually see the crematoriums and walk through the rooms used as gas chambers. And after we had walked around the camp for a couple hours (we only made it through a small part, too), we went into the museum. I could've stayed in there for hours. They had hundreds of eight-foot tall displays filled with the stories of people who'd been in the camps. While it can be hard to comprehend a piece of marble that says, “Grave of Thousands Unknown,” these stories were personal and moving. So much death and destruction, and so many horrible experiences. And yet, the museum was able to highlight at least some positive stories, about people who had lived here and heroes who had helped fight against the regime. There was one about seven mothers who all had babies during their time in Dachau. Even though the Nazis had taken to killing all pregnant women (and all newborns), these women had somehow survived. And since the American liberation happened soon after the birth of their children, each of the babies lived, too. The American soldier who found them was overwhelmed by the sight of the mothers and their newborns. After having seen piles of dead, mutilated bodies, there was this small, good thing. He burst into tears on the spot.

          We headed out of the museum and toward the exit of the camp. It had been a long day already, and it was only about 2 P.M. I kind of wanted to get a souvenir from there, but I wasn't sure if there was a shop. I was thinking something like a, “I SURVIVED DACHAU!” t-shirt would be nice (Yeah, I know I'm going to hell for that one). When we got to the end, we did find a small souvenir shop. Sadly, pretty much the only thing they were selling was postcards. I thought about getting one, but decided against it. I mean, sending one of those just would have been morbid, right?       

You're The Scum Between My Toes: A Love Story

         So it's Valentine's Day tomorrow, and what do you know, there's a girl. The strange thing is, it all began as a joke. The two of us had hung out before, but nothing had happened until one particularly crazy night at a pub. Yup, the girl is Kelli, who you might remember from the previous story. Since that night, we've been together a lot more, sightseeing and chatting and “studying.” One time, she even wrote me a love letter. I don't think she'll mind if I post it, so here it is:

         

          Dear Noah,

         

         I hate your stinking guts. You make me want to vomit. You're the scum between my toes.

          

         ♥ Kelli

          She's pretty great, don't you think?

          Of course, now that we're something, I've been looking back even further than the night at the pub, trying to figure out exactly how it happened. I decided I might as well start with the first time we met. I actually remember it well, which is probably because of what she said. It must've been the second or third day we'd been here. We were standing in a group of about six people, going around and introducing ourselves. The time came for my introduction, so I said, “Hey, I'm Noah.” Kelli looked at me and responded by saying, “Noah? I've heard about you.” I'll be honest, I don't think I've ever gotten that reaction before. My reputation doesn't usually precede me. And the way she said it, like I was infamous or something. I was a little bit confused and a little bit intrigued. I wondered if she was interested in me. Yes, my thoughts went there in about five seconds. I'm a guy, what can I do? Anyway, I figured sooner or later, everything would become clear. It turned out to be sooner.

Awwwwwwwww!

         And now we're here. How would I describe us? We're just like any other couple. I will say that we have some especially fantastic conversations. We talk about things like vomit and poop and lactose intolerance. It's wonderful, really. Sometimes we even talk about more serious issues like...umm...you know, just take my word for it.

         I've learned all about her in only a few days, too. Her family situation is pretty similar to mine- divorced and remarried parents, and lots of siblings. She goes to college in Michigan and is graduating this year. She's going to Wisconsin for grad school. I take this to mean that she's ambitious and will probably have a job once she's done with school. Perfect. I've already begun to plan out my next twenty years as a stay-at-home dad. There's no shame in that- I've been looking for a sugar momma all my life. I didn't think I'd have to travel all the way to Europe to find one, but hey, I'm not complaining.

         While we're in Europe, we'll be visiting a bunch of different cities together. But it's not going to be just us. We're part of a group of seven friends who mostly stick together and go out and plan travels. If we break up, at least I'll have other people to hang out with while I'm in Germany or Greece or France. Obviously, I'd rather that didn't happen, though. I mean, we've already kind of planned our wedding. It'll be in Paris, the city of love. I think we're shooting for late March, sometime around the 20^th. Of course, everyone is invited!

         I wouldn't want to get too far ahead of myself, though. I've only been here for a couple of weeks. We've still got a long way to go- it's not even Valentine's Day yet. Will we be doing anything special in light of the holiday? I'm not really sure. I've been busy here just trying to get everything in order, not to mention, classes start tomorrow. But I know I should probably think of something. We'll see. Maybe this post is a start. I never did get to respond to that love letter she wrote me. I think this counts, though. So I'm dedicating this to my charming little friend. Go shit a brick.

      

         ♥ Noah