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.”