Dusseldorf

I mentioned dichotomies before, but lest I made the impression that one way of life was better than the other, I must assert that I got just as much of a kick out of hanging out with Julia and her family as I did with Katy and Ryan - both fantastic, but in different ways. Variety is, after all, the spice of life. :)

Poor Katy was up with me at about 4:45AM, heading out the door to the S-bahn to get me to the airport. Sadly, the train which would've taken me straight there wasn't working, so Katy had to trundle me across Berlin to catch a different train. Having caught this one, I arrived at the airport and went through the true "joy" of RyanAir flights. Going through a pre-screening of the luggage, waiting in line to check-in, checking in, only to be told I had to go check-in elsewhere to pay a fee, going out of security to pay said fee, going back through pre-security, back in line, checking in, *then* getting in the normal security line. RyanAir, for those who haven't had the honor of dealing with these people... hmm... how can I best explain RyanAir. Well, they recently changed their policies, and now charge you for using the toilets on the planes. Yep. That's RyanAir. Anywho, they give the required dimensions of your carry-on, except that they enforce it by forcing you to jam your bag into a small box which is (they claim) the size of these dimensions. (Too bad I'm about 99.9% certain it's actually quite a bit smaller) If you can't fit your bag into this box, you have to go back to the desk and pay an "oversized bag" fee - generally about £40 (about as much as the overall price of my ticket!) Fortunately, I was stuck in line behind a girl who was *determined* to get her bag to fit - despite the fact that it was as stuck as Pooh in the rabbit hole. She was loudly arguing with the woman overseeing the process, insisting that her bag was *not* over the size limits - as my bag was not over the bag limits but was obviously not going to fit into the box, I tended to agree with her, but was perfectly happy to walk right past the two of them and continue on through security. I placed my bag, coat, bag of liquids, etc through the conveyor - as I walked through the metal detector, the very cute security guard overseeing the process asked me, in heavily accented English, "What part of the US are you from?" I smiled back, confused - what gave me away? My smile? My outfit? My straight teeth? "Am I that obvious?" I asked. He smiled. "I saw your passport", he admitted sheepishly, then wished me a pleasant journey. Not withstanding the early hour and RyanAir frustrations, I did have an easy trip over to Dusseldorf, where I was picked up by Julia and Tristan, who bundled me into the car and headed off to an old industrial iron smelting factory which had been turned into a giant park. So cool.

The park was amazing - we wandered the old gardens, which had been turned into giant playgrounds. (Including little secret gardens, an amphitheater, and a slide made out of old metal tubing which went through a brick wall and got you going at an absolutely ridiculously quick speed :) On one of the waits at the top of the slide, Julia and I were chatting as a young, blonde girl walked up to wait as well. She turned to me, and asked (obviously, in German), "What language are you speaking?" Cutest kid ever. :) The actual iron smelting buildings were available to wander through - and you can go *quite* a ways up. We got lunch and a beer at the little stand, as well as ice cream later on. We enjoyed the sunshine and the heat, watched Tristan climb just about everything, and got a whole load of pictures. We finally got back in the car and drove back to Julia's house, a gorgeous three-storey old house filled to the brim to character (you walk into the giant, airy living room full of windows, bookshelves covered in books, and gummi bears on the table) - we were all exhausted and went to take a nap. I woke up around 9PM and wandered downstairs, where I met Julia's sister Stephanie and her dad, an American actor who reminded me just how much I love hanging out in the theatre. :) We stayed up late eating bolognese, red wine, and finally went to bed quite late. I felt bad waking up the next morning around 10:30, but went downstairs to read "Moby Dick" in the sunlight through the windows with freshly squeezed orange juice - until Julia and Tristan finally woke up a little after noon. :)

We eventually got into the car and drove off to the city of Köln (known to the English speaking world as Cologne) - best known (according to Rick Steves - woot!) for its Cathedral - and it was quite gorgeous. A massively large, beautiful cathedral, and - after paying our 1 euro - we began our 553 steps to the top of the tower. On the way, we passed by the largest church bell in the world, discovered Tristan's fear of heights and my claustrophobia, and realized just how horrifically out of shape we all are. :) Eventually we reached the top, however, and it really was quite gloriously gorgeous. Another 553 down, and we went to get lunch at a local restaurant, with the greatest roasted chicken I have *ever* eaten (the exercise, warm weather, and local tap beer make any meal better, especially when eaten with friends in the shadow of a fountain that tells the story of how women ruin everything :) ), and mmmmm... struedel... We did a stroll through the lovely city, but the fine weather was sadly on its way out. Our plan for a boat tour had to be scrapped, as it began to rain slightly. Another drive home, another lovely afternoon nap , another lovely dinner, and this time we stayed up after dinner to watch "The Ring" for Julia's essay - poor Julia, however, had to watch it with Stephanie, Tristan, and I inserting our own commentary (Never been funnier) and finished up with Eddie Izzard (as all good evenings should end) - however, this put our evening as ending at nearly 3AM. (whoops!)

Next morning... well, "morning... we bundled up and headed out the door to see the main city of Dusseldorf - Julia as tour guide works so much better when she knows the city (grin). This was a day of wandering, talking, looking, shopping, eating "fast food" (well, German fast food), and just generally being easy-going tourists. Delightful. This time we weren't as exhausted upon returning home, so we sat in the living room, enjoying the crackling of the fireplace, listening to the rain pitter-patter on the windows, reading "Time", listening to her dad make dinner - we eventually congregated in the kitchen, listening to the Chieftans (and improvising our own Irish step-dancing, despite Ciaran trying to teach us the real steps one night ages ago... didn't really catch on, as our version included lots of hopping about and not a little bit of the Funky Chicken)

This time I had to go to bed early as, again, the ride to the airport + pre-flight buffer time + early flight = very, very rising. (bleh) Poor Julia had originally planned to drop me at the train station, only to get confused about *which* station - so she ended up driving me there. We got breakfast, then bid farewell as I wandered through security, got on my plane (And oooh... Lufthansa is a *nice* airline... highly recommended, especially after dealing with RyanAir), and arrived in Heathrow at 9:30AM. I switched my euro over to pounds, and began my trek back to Bournemouth (I think I took just about the most round-about way via trains back to good ol' B-town). Once home, I unpacked, remarked on how empty the halls were, bought groceries, then willed myself to stay up until bedtime... even though I spent the day in only semi-consciousness, watching Dr. Who on iPlayer and QI on youtube.

And yeah... :) The Halls are full again, I'm back to work, and holiday is over. (Though, only a month and a half to Hawaii! Woot!)

Berlin

Well, I managed to write about getting *to* Germany, then inexplicably seem to have stopped... sorry about that. :) 

The plane from Zurich to Berlin was delayed about 15 minutes, due to us sitting on the runway, but we made it to Berlin *about* on-time - and just in time to watch the sun set as we were coming in for our landing. (Huzzah for summertime, and the sun staying out later!) We wandered off the plane and "through" Passport Control, except nobody was manning either the EU or Alle booths, so we simply went straight through to reclaim our luggage. (Which rather peeved me, as I found it rather silly that I'd come out of this holiday with a Zurich stamp, but no German stamps) I stood about for a few moments, before remembering that - in true Rick Steves style - I had simply brought a carry-on and my purse. (woot!) I stepped out of the luggage carousel room and texted Katy, who - after a brief search for the information desk (I followed the signs advertising "I -> ", all the while hoping that I did, in fact, stand for information, and not something else in Deutch. We caught the bus as the sun was setting and made our grand journey home - thank goodness I was with Katy, or I'm pretty certain I'd still be sitting around the airport, trying to figure out the mass-transit. It's a sad fact that Seattle has no mass-transit system, and Berlin's did seem to be absolutely *amazing*, but it was still quite daunting in and of itself to the newcomer who doesn't speak the language. (While going for the S-bahn, Katy was stopped by a man trying to figure out what train she wanted, with whom she conversed in German - I still half suspect that she planted him there to impress me...) We arrived home to their absolutely adorable flat (though that staircase was just *waiting* to kill me, I'm pretty certain), with Ryan cooking dinner. Let me digress for a moment.

This spring break was a fantastic look at dichotomies - the young, punk city of Berlin vs. the quiet, peaceful beauty of Dusseldorf; visiting historical sites vs. a more "hanging out" style of siteseeing; married friends vs. single friends. Living in the Halls tends to make me feel a bit old before my time - I don't go out clubbing every night, I don't put off homework assignments to the last minute, I follow politics, I've had full-time (serious, not summer) jobs, etc. Even still, my cohorts (generally ranging in age from 17-21) generally mentally forget that I'm several years older than than them, and give the funniest looks when reminded of this fact - for example, when I would mention that I was going to visit Katy and Ryan, I got *so* many weirded-out looks - "You have married friends?! Wow, that must be weird!" Ummm... not really... 

That said, while I love building trebuchets, making short films, playing Risk until 4 in the morning, and building forts in the common room, it was such an odd sense of joy and relief to be amongst my age range again. :) Cooking *real* meals (at normal hours), renting films, seeing the city via boat tour (complete with beer and sunscreen)... going to bed at 11PM... :) I was also absolutely delighted in the fact that Katy, Ryan and I managed to pick up where we left off - you do occasionally have those friends that you meet up with, years down the road, and you can't seem to get conversation flowing again as well as you did before - not so, here, as reminisces mixed with catch-up. Excellent times.  

Anywho: Berlin! First day, Katy and I took a 3 1/2 hour walking tour of the city, led by a guide who had been born in... Bulgaria? Hmm... it started with a B... but whose parents emigrated to New York when he was quite young, and he had only moved back to German about three years previous. You could definitely see the New York spirit, however - his voice carried just about everywhere we went, and he had a flair for, ahem, "involving" people - both within his tour group and random strangers passing by - in telling the stories. It was such a help to not only get a good view of the big tourist sites, but to get the history behind them put in a chronological order - growing up, I feel most of my history classes took us up to World War II, then said, "Umm... yeah... that's about it" as though nothing happened after the 1940's anywhere. I very distinctly remember a girl in one history class in HIGH SCHOOL very sincerely asking Miss Engnell "Wait, I thought we won the Vietnam War"... (sigh) In any case, history was sorted out and it was a truly gorgeous day - 22 degrees, bright sunshine (very bright...), a slight breeze, everything green and glorious, we had a fantastic lunch near Checkpoint Charlie, then later got the "finest" gelato, met up with Ryan after work, saw the Jewish Synagog and the Tacheles, had a cider in a beer garden (apparently, pronounced "see-der") with Simon and Sarah (K&R's friends, who were were to have dinner with the next night), then had pizza in the park, while watching the crazy bottle man talk to his stuffed cat. :) In true "old people fashion", we went home and watched the new episodes of the Daily Show, Colbert and The Office before turning in. At 11PM. Ah, I love it. :)

Second day, Katy and I went back to the Reichstag, the German Parliament building. It was a long line to get in, but quite worth it - you get whisked up to the top floor via elevator, then deposited on the rooftop next to the large glass dome that oversits the Parliamentary room. Again, bright sunshine and warm weather, this time warming my now bright red skin. Once inside the dome, you follow the ramp around right up to the top, where you can look straight down into the main room of the Parliament - the people looking straight in at the transparent government, while the government looks up to be constantly reminded that they are beneath the people, not above them. A truly lovely image. We climbed back down, and settled quite comfortably at a local cafe, where I had my first currywurst - wurst covered in a spicy, ketchup-like sauce... quite delicious and immensely satisfying in the way that a barbecue in the middle of summer can leave you pleasantly satiated, warm, sleepy, and purring in contentment. We met up with Ryan (who had been up ridiculously early for a ridiculously long bike ride - crazy bloke!), and went on a boat tour of Berlin, floating lazily down the river, beer in hand, as we watched the sites float by, listened to the speakers crackle with German and English, and enjoyed the warm sunlight. (Well, the second half of the journey had us sitting in front of a family with a little girl who wouldn't stop getting up, grabbing my seat (and, as well, my back or my hair), kicking my seat, and - according to Katy's German - constantly either complaining or demanding something from her parents. (grumble) We passed through the Tiergardens on our way back to our bus, where we headed home (after picking up dessert), then to Simon and Sarah's for dinner. At first mention, I had a rather striking image of Bridget Jones, going to her Smug Married friend's house for a dinner party - of all Smug Marrieds (Only this time, they'd be Smug Married Germans). Happily, both were absolutely delightful - Sarah was actually from Minnesota and met Simon when they were both living in DC. We talked for hours about odd German language foibles, crazy times in undergrad, The West Wing (Simon's a big fan! I knew he was cool!), living internationally, England/US/Germany, etc. We ended up leaving around 1AM and it was a testament to how quickly I had fallen back into my more "normal" living arrangement that, arriving home around 1:30, I was absolutely exhausted. (Despite this being the point most of the guys here would come knocking, to see if I wanted to watch a movie or go out to a house party) Making this late hour even more late was the fact that the next day was...

Palm Sunday! The three of us trundled off to the American Church of Berlin - oddly enough, *this* was my biggest culture shock of the trip. :) Although I believe the church was supposed to be non-denominational, we were given Lutheran hymn books and recited the dear old catechism. We went outside with our palm fronds to greet the Saviour and sang our first hymn walking back down the central nave. Nearly everyone spoke with an American accent, and with that unmistakeable "American Christian" way of speaking, smiling, walking, making small talk, having cookies and coffee laid out afterwards, etc. There was just something so bizarre - after spending so much time in England, where it's pretty unmistakably "C-o-E", and then to have the mindset of "I'm in Germany, I'm in Germany", to go three days of having to have Katy order for me, stammering out my little "bitte" and "danke" whenever I could, to suddenly be thrust back into that completely familiar and so absolutely itself environment - it was quite a culture shock. :) Lovely church with lovely people, but it absolutely threw me for a loop. Afterwards, we went to see the Topography of Terror exhibit (former site of the SS Headquarters). Once finished, we still had about an hour or so of museums and such being open, but Katy and I decided, instead, to simply stop for a snack at a cafe near the Brandenburg Tor and just enjoy the last of the sunshine and talk for a bit. We grabbed the bus home, made dinner, and - as my plane to Dusseldorf would be heading out bright and early, went to bed early as well. 

Impressions of Berlin? Our tour guide summed it up best - he exhorted us to come back to Berlin as soon and as often as we could, as the city was shifting and changing day by day. It was amazing to see the surfeit of history - and such *recent* history as well (Katy said she kept getting teased by old Berliners by her fascination with the bullet holes and bombed out buildings that are everywhere) - especially in Seattle, though definitely within the States in general, we just don't really have these massive evidences of war lying about on every doorstep. The times when war has come home, it's generally been in examples like 9/11 or Pearl Harbour - where we're hit, and SHOCKED that we can be hit, then resume the war happening somewhere *not* on our shores. The openness and honesty about WWII and the division of Berlin under communism was amazing to see - and quite heartbreaking to see how raw the scars still are. It is illegal to do the Nazi salute, or even to draw a swastika - it's a major news item now that The Producers is coming to Berlin for the first time. There's been a hail of controversy surrounding it; all the advertising for the show features flags with - not swastikas - but pretzels. :) And yet, despite all this history, this shadow of a dark and troubled past still lurking about the city, there is such an amazingly fresh, young voice taking over Berlin. Katy and Ryan joked that they lived in the "cool" part of the city - where all the stereotypical European youths run around with mohawks, tight jeans, and piercings. It is amazing to see that this city has managed to come out from its past, while still being able to display it - saying, "yes, this is what happened - it was terrible, we aren't trying to whitewash it, we aren't trying to deny it, this is what happened" - they recognize their past without being destroyed by it. The evidence is still there on every street corner (they've gone through the records and, in front of any house still standing that at one point was home to someone who died in the concentration camps, they've put a gold brick in the sidewalk in front of that house with the persons' name, date they lived there, and what camp they died at), yet this information hasn't killed the city's spirit, which is remarkably strong and quite young. 

Okay. Well, having gotten this far, I have just been invaded by Ciaran and Lars, looking to pay a game of Risk. On the one hand, it's only 10:30... on the other hand, they want to do World Conquest... hmm...  

  

Zurich

I got a good price on my plane tickets going through expedia, though for my plane ride to Berlin I had to fly through Zurich. Look it up on a map if you don't understand how bizarre this is. However, I was flying Swiss Air International (a really nice carrier) and both flights were only about an hour long. (After regularly flying 9+ hours to Seattle and back, one hour flights are an absolute joke, especially since we were fed, essentially, lunch: a turkey curry baguette, drink, and Swiss chocolate in the short time between taking off and landing) That said, while both flights themselves were fine... the layover... 

I had an hour and five minutes between landing in Zurich and taking off for Berlin. Although I would have to change planes, I wasn't changing carriers (so I'd be in the same terminal); I should have PLENTY of time. I planned to stop by a shop and get some good chocolate for Katy and Julia as thank you gifts. Well, that "same terminal" bit? That rather went out the window when I realized that we were getting off the plane to get on a bus to be shuttled to the airport. No biggie, though - I grabbed a handhold and listened in amusement as an American behind me asked the English guy next to him how to get service for his iPhone here in Europe. I learned more than I ever needed to know, before the bus pulled up and deposited us at the main terminal. I had my notebook with all my flight information in my purse, but took a quick look at the screens to see that the flight to Berlin, leaving at about the time I remembered it should, was at a gate in the B terminals. The signs next to the screens advertised it as a 5-10 minute walk and, while there were plenty of shops right there, I somehow decided to head for my gate now, planning to shop closer to the gate once I found where it was. Thank goodness.

Following the endless signs towards my gate, I suddenly found myself in line for Passport Control. What? No, I'm going to the same carrier, I shouldn't... hmm... nope, this is the way to my gate. Confused, but realizing that this was, in fact, the way, I made my way through the queue, where I had my passport stamped for Zurich and was sent on my way. Umm... thanks? A few minutes later, approaching my gate, I realized the further implications of going through Passport Control - I had to go through security again, and the line was endless. Checking my watch - well, I still had five minutes before they'd start boarding and about half an hour before the plane took off. Surprise, surprise - Murphy's Law kicked in and, after placing my carry-on through the X-ray machine, I watched as it was pulled out the other end and trundled off to a table on the other side of the room. I followed the bag dutifully, wondering what I had done wrong this time, heart sinking as I checked my watch. "Dieses ist lhr?" Blank stare. "Is this your bag?" Ah, yes, yes it is. "Can I open this pocket?" Sure, why not. Ah... the big plastic bottle of cloudy lemonade that I hadn't finished at lunch, and had tucked into my luggage - because surely I wouldn't be going through security again. (grumble) He threw the bottle out, then ran my bag through a second time, this time coming out completely kosher. I flashed him a big smile, apologized for the mistake, then hot-footed it down the stairs to my gate. Okay, no problem - there's still a queue, the plane is still boarding, no problem.

Well, until I reached the front of the queue. The woman taking tickets at the door looked at my boarding pass, gave me an odd look, then said the most horrific thing I could've thought of at that particular moment, "This is the wrong flight to Berlin. You want flight 333 - gate A62." She helpfully wrote it on my ticket, then went on to the next person. Yep, two separate flights to Berlin, taking off within five minutes of each other, but taking off from opposite sides of the airport. Ten minutes before *my* plane would take off. 

"There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody's expense but his own." - Chapter 49, Moby Dick

I hustled back up the stairs, only to find myself trapped. I followed the exit signs back towards the security screening area, only to find myself in a weird hallway with a door that didn't open. I went back towards the staircase, only to see that the doorway there was a fire exit only and would set off an alarm. I went *back* to the hallway by the screening area, finally seeing a small green button. I pushed it. Nothing happened. I pushed it again. The doors still didn't open. I was about to scream, when I noticed a small woman shuffling at an intolerably slow speed towards the door with a key. After turning it, the door finally opened, allowing me back out into the main terminals. If you didn't find this sufficiently slapstick, you should realize that *all* of the walls in question were glass - thus, I could not only *see* exactly where I needed to go at all times, but the people waiting in the security line got to watch me race back and forth like a laboratory rat. 

I raced off down the main terminal hallways - well, "raced" meaning a quick walk, as my bag kept bumping into my knees no matter where I placed it, and I seemed to be continuously stuck behind zig-zag walkers (you know the kind - the ones who walk quite slowly, but don't walk in a straight line, so it is nearly impossible to pass them). I finally found gate A62, and fortunately the security checkpoint at the A gates was completely deserted (and hey! I'd already had a trail run to remove all contraband from my bag) - and I fell in line with the last stragglers on *this* flight to Berlin. Sweaty, out of breath, and on an adrenaline high, I took my seat on the plane, settled in... and spent 15 minutes sitting on the runway, waiting for our turn to take off. 

Spring break! Woo!!

"Up here, Michael. Up here."

After discovering that the MA spring/Easter break was *not* one week as had been advertised, but was - in fact - two weeks, I realized that I needed to put something together, so that I wouldn't spend two weeks sitting alone in the Halls. (Which do get *quite* creepy when empty) No longer being in Seattle means that a two hour plane ride would land me just about anywhere in Europe, rather than... well... Canada or Spokane, so I decided on a week in Germany, visiting my friend Julia (from here in the Halls) and Katy and Ryan Strange (fellow SPU-ites - Katy and I worked together in the costume shop and lived together Junior year; Ryan did some of the shows as well). 

First, however, I would be remiss in not mentioning my third trip to Bath. What on earth would take me to Bath for a third time, you might ask?

Hells yeah! :) My second time seeing Patrick Stewart on the boards, after seeing him play the titular role in Antony and Cleopatra in Stratford during my study abroad. (Well, playing Antony, that is) Interestingly, we had SRO (standing room only) tickets for that show, too... 

US John and I took the train in the morning, waited in line once the box office opened, grabbed up our tickets, and then spent the following two hours getting a Sally Lunn bun (I will never, even onto the ending of the world, stop praising these buns) and seeing the Roman Baths and Assembly rooms, then wandering up to the Royal Crescent and finally back to the theatre via the Gardens. Apparently, it only takes me living in a city for a week, then visiting for a day trip, then coming back for the third time for me to finally be able to find my way around without getting horrifically lost! (I even gave someone directions!) 

The play was exquisitely done - the set was a lovely, dilapidated old theatre on a partial rake, with the flylines exposed on the sides. The lighting was lovely, though the sound was sadly sub-par (when the theatre is small and the actors aren't mic-ed, there is no excuse for lame sound effects pumped too loudly and too obviously through the back speakers), but the costumes were lovingly distressed and - after all - this is Beckett performed by Stewart, McKellen, (and Simon Callow, as well, as Pozzo!) - much can be forgiving, though - thankfully - little needed forgiving. 

I should note that, for those who have never seen him in anything but Star Trek, Patrick Stewart is one of the most masterful Shakespearian actors of our day. He subscribes to the Ken Branagh school of Shakespearian acting, which not only 150% understands completely what the words and phrases mean, their attendant emotions, whether the character is speaking truly or falsely or ironically or sardonically, and can convey all of this to the audience, but still retains the absolutely gorgeous musical quality of the lines - they manage to sing without making us doubt the truth of the words one iota. That said, possibly because of this, it took him a bit of time to warm up into the character - for awhile, he was playing Beckett with the slight theatricality that is required for Shakespeare. That said, by the arrival on Pozzo, he was fully sunk into the character, and we were right along with him. Ian McKellen, on the other hand, was the sweetest, most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen - the sense of hopelessness and futility he carried with him... simply fantastic. Fully invested from the first second of the show, struggling over the wall and painfully pulling his boot from his swollen foot. 

We didn't have much time after the show ended, so we headed straight back to our train. Upon arriving home, we made pizza, I "packed" and we watched two Dr. Who episodes. (I seriously have become completely obsessed. It's fantastic)