münchen, teil 1...

The color of Munich is red.

Okay, so I know the city’s colors are black and gold and the Bavarian colors are white and blue, but my experience thus far has been red, both in the sense that you see red when you’re beyond angry and in that mouthwatering red that promises a juicy sweetness as soon as your teeth pierce the skin.  Let me start from the beginning…

 I arrived at the Wombat Hostel around 6:30pm, with enough daylight to settle into my room without having my awkward crashing around waking anyone at odd hours (well, it would have been an odd hour if they were asleep anyway!), and with enough time to complete what is fast becoming my favorite hostel ritual: Lidl shopping.  I know what I like in Germany: Brötchen (translates to rolls, but they’re so much better than plain ol’ dinner rolls), Fol Epi cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes, pasta, and Knoppers.  (If Augustiner gets to be the golden liquid of the gods, I would classify Knoppers and Kinder chocolate as the chocolaty delight of the gods…)  I have begun to take for granted that hostels will provide me with a place to store/cook these goods.

The Wombat Hostel has its perks.  It’s colorful, friendly, loud in the common areas, quiet in the rooms, free (crappy) wLAN, but it does not provide a guest kitchen.  Suddenly, the 8,72 I’d spent on food for the four days I was here quit looking like a good way to save money.  For dinner I ate raw macaroni from a Tupperware like a dog without a spoon.  By the time I woke up my cheese was kicking it and the frozen veggies I’d bought as a treat were soggy and smelled of cardboard.  Well, shit.  Color me pissed off.

(And I was pissed off, but let’s not get into that.)

Which brings me to yesterday.  I ate what I could salvage of and tossed the rest of my spoiled food, ate a piece of bread and an apple, and decided for a new start.  I can afford 8,72 for a learning experience.  The day began with a free tour run by the tour-for-tips philosophy.  You pay what you think the tour deserves instead of a rate upfront.  Like many of its kind, it’s a good philosophy…until it’s put into practice.  As a German minor and not-so-closeted hater of any large group of tourists, I probably shouldn’t have been on this tour.  I can’t say I appreciated being talked to so loud in English, nor did I appreciate the almost condescending repetition of dates and questions even a five-year-old could answer.  Plus, he talked about what caused the U.S. recession during the entire Glockenspiel.  Good thing I wasn’t paying attention.  Let me give you his tour in a nutshell:

He mentioned a lot of 9-11s without specifying he was speaking of November 11th until some American mentioned how weird it was that that date kept coming up in history, and then he condescended to her and the rest of us the entire trip.  He kept saying that his goal was to make us "local" (whatever the hell that means) by getting us to think like real Bavarians.  Okay, so the book on the evils of "authentic" tourism spoiled me for that experience.  I know I'm not Bavarian, and I'm not going to pretend to be, so please stop pandering for tips!  He made a lot of religious generalisations that I also didn't appreciate, such that the biggest difference between a Catholic and a Protestant is the Pope.  Um, hello?  Transubstantiation vs. Consubstantiation much?  And finally, probably my biggest pet peeve, he spoke like Berlin and Munich were the only two cities in Germany.  Berlin is ___; Munich is ___.  Like, nevermind the fact that there are other beautiful places/regions in Germany off the beaten track that you could be recommending.  Hessen!  Saschen!  Hello!!!

one cool thing he did teach us is that the bayern flags on the ceiling of the hofbräu haus used to be swastikas... basically this was, like, the nazi hq 

Needless to say, I didn’t pay him.  In retrospect, karma is going to kick my ass, but, honestly, I spent the whole time feeling awkward and wanting to let every single German that suppressed an eye-roll in our general direction that I’m not like that!  I speak German!  I’ve been to Munich before!  I was just lost and needed an easy way to get to the Marienplatz!  Honestly!  I’m not one of them!

 theatinerkirche: these people are cheering for the environment... no, really... "k-l-i-m-a, klima!!!"

(Which, I realize, is incredibly unfair to my fellow countrymen and travelers abroad.  Regardless of how they are doing it, they are trying to experience a culture just as much as I am.  Whether or not they speak the language or know anything about the country doesn’t make them dumb, annoying, bitchy, ditzy, bros, spoiled, or any other adjective I may/may not have used in my angry thoughts yesterday.  Everyone starts somewhere, whether it’s an annoying [there I go again] tour or a three day homestay in Tannheim with no German skills and only an undying love for chocolate cake and farmlands [yes, cake and cows are the real reason I’m so in love with Germany]…)

Okay, so, ranting and raving aside (or maybe not—dun dun dunnn!), after I departed from the tour, I was a little disappointed in myself for not having met anyone, but considering I lied and said I was from Ireland, maybe it’s a good thing I was only able to initiate a ten-minute conversation in which I described the game of hurling and gushed about Galway in a sufficient-but-otherwise insufficient false-voice… Anyway, I was a little sad to be on my own after the tour, but I was also really, really glad to be set free.  My lonely itinerary was as follows:

1) Theatinerkirche where I encountered/touched a rather chilling saintly relic

2) Back to Marienplatz to read a while in the Hugenbudel (supposedly the largest bookstore in Germany)

3) Getting lost while trying to find, and then turning around and actually finding the Viktualienmarkt, where I had a conversation with a lovely lady selling strawberries and learned a new useful word: Schale (means a carton or a box of ___ [i.e. strawberries, blueberries]).  I did have some issues with her dialect, but I was proud of myself for understanding when she told me I could taste one before I purchased a box, that she would check to make sure they were all pretty, that I could have the ones she picked out as “bad” for free and that they weren’t actually bad, just a little squished, and that I didn’t have to wash the fruit because they were organic.  Phew, I understood a lot!  Hooray for me!

abschaffen!  abschaffen!  abschaffen!

4) Then I went to Alter Peter and as I was exiting the church, I bumped into and joined a student protest.  They were protesting “high” university fees (which I just have to scoff at as someone who’s tuition costs $50,000/year), which I agree are ridiculous!  Since I could understand what they were saying and protesting, I decided to grab some red protest stickers (“Wissen. Macht. Reich.” and “Arme Uni”) and a balloon and join in the chanting!  My favorite protester was a guy dressed up as a Spartan with a red cape and a sign that read “MADNESS?!?!  THIS…IS…BAVARIA!!!” 

 

And then I came back to the hostel only to discover that there is a guest fridge!  So I went back to Lidl and bought—wait for it!  Two pots of strawberry yogurt, strawberry and johannesberry jam, and the red version of Babybel cheese.  So between being so frustrated I practically saw red, having nothing to eat but apples, cold macaroni slathered in tomato sauce and the cherry tomatoes I’d bought to make sandwiches, going on a dumb tour that (I will admit) did teach me a few things (like that Cincinatti, Ohio is Munich’s sister-city and that the Bavarian flags on the ceiling of the Hofbräuhaus are covering up swastikas), eating half a carton of strawberries from the Bodensee, and buying my second round of food, I have come to the conclusion that the color of Munich is red.  

Which, in the end, is really more sweet than sour.  :)

keine panik!

I have just returned from my first day of real travel in Germany.  Yesterday doesn't count because I spent three hours on a bus from Galway to Dublin, three hours in the Dublin airport, two hours on a plane from Dublin to Berlin, and about two hours trying to figure out how to get from the airport in Berlin to my hostel.  Thankfully, I met an Irish couple with a map and kind hearts who became my surrogate parents for appx. 1 hour.  I was able to return the favor by translating the transportation notices that were coming over the train's PA (there was a detour and then a signal problem).  After finally arriving, all I wanted to do was sleep.  Unfortunately, the big snorer in the bed above mine had other ideas.

Four hours of sleep, sore arms, and hardly any breakfast was not exactly how I wanted to start my adventures in Germany.  But, as is my nature, I persevered, ate some peanut butter, and headed out to Potsdam (specifically: Schloß Sanssouci) where disappointment continued to reign.  It's been almost 7 years since I was last in Berlin and Potsdam, and all I could remember about the palace was this beautiful, beautiful room with shells and pearls covering the walls.  I remember walking in from the almost oppressive June heat and feeling the cool, blue breeze of a grotto kissing my cheeks.  It turns out, there's a lot more to the palace than just that room.  In fact, there are at least four different buildings, one of which, the New Palace, is closed on Tuesdays.  Just so happens, that's the one I needed to revisit that magical place.  Of course, ever the optimist, I didn't realize that until I'd paid 8 euro for a tour and came out wondering where on earth that grotto had disappeared to.

But, you know, I wandered around the palace gardens for almost four hours, a luxury we weren't afforded due to the organized-fun nature of high school trips.  I saw things I've never seen before, and I was able to buy a beautiful postcard of the grotto which is better than any picture I could have taken (tripods and flash are not allowed).  I didn't get to relive the magic of seven years ago, but I got to experience so much more.  Besides, I'm only twenty years old.  I can still come back and try again!  I didn't miss one train or bus today, and I didn't get lost either, and I think that's certainly worth celebrating.  I shouldn't dwell on the fact that the Berliner Dom wouldn't let me in unless I paid for a ticket or that I didn't make it out to the Berlin Wall.  I fit a lot into one day (Sanssouci, Alexanderplatz, Brandenburger Tor, mich verlaufen...)!  So I've decided to live this trip the way Frederick the Great's palace has advised me to: sans souci, ohne Sorge, without worries.

And you're probably all dying to know how little timid Jenny is coping with the language.  Well, I'll tell you, I'm doing just fine for myself.  So far I have asked questions of about 5,000 DB (Deutsche Bahn) personnel, approached the desk at my hostel, and ordered food.  I'd give myself a 95% for participation and a 70% for success.  Even though I start off shaky and nervous, I must sound better than I did four years ago, because people have been mostly responding to my inquiries in German, something that never happened before, and I can understand much better when they give directions, though sometimes I do zone out as if I were sitting in a class instead of throwing myself into the real world.  I did have a moment today though.  I went to order a sub at Subway and I made a very common English-speaking mistake when I asked the kid "Can I have a Veggie Delight?"  He responded, like a snotty brat, with that trick parents and schoolteachers worldwide seem to adore: "I dunno, can you?"  My blank stare was met by a dumb grin for a few moments before I realized and tried to correct myself, which made me seem even more stupid.  "May I...?" I asked.  He laughed harder and I blushed more, but we pushed forward to something I actually knew how to say--vegetable names.  Thank you, high school German!  So, in spite of the embarrassment, I can happily say that my German is not so bad that people only ever respond to my attempts in English.

A step in the right direction?  I think so!

do you feel my heartbeat, europe?

It's the most wonderful time of the year!  It's live!  It's tacky!  It sparkles!  It's EUROVISION 2011, and it's on!  For those of you who are unfortunate enough to have never experienced a Eurovision, it's like a ridiculously hilarious mix of American Idol and the Olympics.  The song competition debuted in 1956 in Switzerland as a way to heal the divisions in a war-ravaged Europe and it is now one of the longest running television programs in the world.  The basic premise is that each country submits one song for judgment, which is to be performed over a live broadcast that reaches all countries in the EBU (European Broadcasting Union). Countries vote for other countries (voting for yourself is prohibited) and, eventually, someone wins.  In case you were wondering, you can thank Eurovision for ABBA.

 ABBA ca. 1974 [http://msbeaker.blogspot.com/]

But what makes Eurovision such a riot is the cheese factor.  The announcers are typically desperately unfunny, the costumes and props unbearably tacky, the lyrics irritatingly catchy and nonsensical, and the performers shamelessly flirtatious.  Case-in-point, Russian's entry Alexei Vorobjov is coming to get you and Hungary wants to know--what about my dreeaaaaaammmz?!:

 

Good stuff, man.  There are some charming groups, too, that warm the heart and make you go "awwwww" like Iceland:

Ireland will be performing in the second semi-final round on Thursday.  The submission?  Strange, intergalactic, amazeballs twins from Dublin who call themselves Jedward (John + Edward) with very bizarre yet somehow endearing personalities (in small doses, of course).  Now, I'd heard an awful lot about the UK's submission (a sufficiently cheesy boy-band, Blue) but I hadn't heard of Jedward at all until I looked up the Eurovision listing on RTE.  They're pretty fantastic.  I'm not going to say I want them to win just yet, but Ireland holds the record for most Eurovision wins (7) and it'd be cool if the youngest competitors this year could add one more to the list?

completely sober.  i can't wait until tomorrow when i'll be drinking that druid that's been in the fridge since st. patrick's day.

That's it for now, folks.  Stay tacky!

one week.

to my mother.

Happy (U.S.) Mother's Day.  I know you'll always protect me from muddy Renaissance miscreants.  I love you!