Londontown is fun. It’s a welcome relief to walk into a hotel or restaurant and actually understand what the people are saying or what is listed on the menu. We arrive at our first hotel – the Grapevine hotel – and promptly check right back out. The room was teeny tiny – smaller than a cruise ship – there was no way that we could get both of our suitcases in there and still have room to walk. The dirty hallways and lack of wifi sealed the decision. We went across the street to the New England Bed and Breakfast and found better accommodations for a similarly reasonable price. We headed to a local pub in the Victoria neighborhood and had some cottage pie. At this point things are a little strained, partially because I insisted on being alone in Amsterdam, but mostly because we were both sick of each other at that point. One week after being home, we’ve exchanged texts and im’s, made plans to go to a concert together, but have yet to see or speak to each other. Ordinarily I would be feeling a little insecure about that fact, but each time I study abroad and have to integrate into a new “group”, I am reminded of the fact that incessant communication does not equal belongingness. I know we’ll be friends way far beyond this. That strain made the itty bitty teeny tiny room that much more unappealing.
After cottage pie, we laid down in bed and attempted to decide what double decker bus tour to take tomorrow. Pretty much over being tourists, we were trying to find one that was not too expensive (London was more expensive than even Italy!), hit all the main spots, but still left us time for shopping in the afternoon. We finally found it – just in time too, because our eyelids were getting heavy. The next morning we hit all the big spots – Buckingham Palace, St. Pauls Cathedral, The Tower of London, etc etc. After the tour, we walked to the ½ price tkts booth and success – tickets to Chicago!!! I really wanted to see some Shakespeare, but the idea of standing at the Globe for 3 hours did not appeal to my travel-weary body. Then it was more health food for lunch and the British Museum. I really wanted to see the Egyptian exhibit, but was disappointed when I got there. They’ve loaned a lot out and it’s not assembled very well. Either that or I got spoiled by the really great museums I saw in the beginning of our trip. Then – topshop! Highlight of London!!! Meghan got boots and I got heels and headbands.
Back to the hotel, we laid down, showered, and got our game faces on for the evening. Fish and chips at a local pub plus a GOOD bottle of wine (Meghan tried to order the cheap one till I reminded her this was our last night in Europe and I refuse to drink cheap wine!) equaled great conversation, no more strain, and the perfect mindset for some Fosse. Our seats were PERFECT – 12 rows from the front with a clear view ! Wine in hand, we were ready for the show to start. SO ENJOYABLE! I grew up going to the theater, but haven’t been in eons and am reminded just how much I enjoy it. We both thoroughly enjoyed the entire production, and I even gave a standing ovation. Singing “and all that jazz” on the way home, we collapse in bed. We need to be fresh as a daisy for our 8 hour plane flight tomorrow.
Our last breakfast in Europe was at Café Nero – scones and pain au chocolate coupled with cappuccinos. We got through the airport very easily, and boarded the plane ready – and more than willing – to head home.
More reflection to come!!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Amsterdam.
Amsterdam – My Brain Turns Off
So, I made a vow, and I am sticking to it – it’s my turn to get my relax on and just go along for the ride while someone else figures out what to do and how to do it. I have only one thing I want to do while I am here, and there will be no problem achieving that goal.
We arrive at the Blue Orange guesthouse. If you ever want the PERFECT place to stay in Amsterdam, stay here. http://www.xs4all.nl/~conschul/ It’s in a residential area, right on a canal, easy to walk to from the train station and a welcome change from a typical hostel. Located in the basement of a family home, when you open the doors you’re greeted with a living room and a flatscreen, a kitchenette, a bathroom with a – gasp – full bathtub!, and separate sleeping area. It was just what we needed! The family who owns it was very kind and accommodating, providing us with some great guidance and information. That night we took it easy – coffeeshop, dinner (Italian, because Dutch food is gross!), Chianti and bed!!
The next morning, I decided to start my day off with a walk. I do it every day in Baltimore with the poochies, and needed to feel a little bit normal. It was nice to wander around before the city woke up on a Sunday morning. Even though my camera was dead, I snapped some shots with the iPhone. It was nice to be quiet again. When I returned, the big question loomed – what to do and how to do it? I handed off the copies of my tour books to Meghan and Rachel and volunteered to look anything up we may need and ended it there. Suffering from a bit of PMS combined with some un-vented frustration over always being in charge resulted in me coming off as a little bit of a bitch. At that point though, I was beyond caring. That doesn’t make it okay – I probably should have cared a little bit more about hurting peoples feelings – but like I said, I was just done. We all were a bit raw at that point.
The itinerary was set – coffeeshhop/lunch, van Gough museum, Anne Frank Huis, and then who knows? Off we went. After lunch we realized that we knew where the tram station was but no idea how to navigate the network. I did my damndest with an all Dutch map and snippets of suggestions from locals, and surprisingly enough I figured it out. It was laborious, but I felt triumphant at the end. Even Rachel said something along the lines of “damn LaRee you are a good traveler – I’ll go anywhere with you”. Maybe it was just the coffee talking, since I had been a pretty big bitch that morning, but it was definitely the nicest compliment I’d gotten yet.
The van Gough museum was disappointing. It was well laid out, chronicling the life of the troubled artist and showing how his work evolved and devolved over time. I had heard tell of some Chagall’s there, but couldn’t find anything. Overall, though, I did not find the museum fulfilling. The Anne Frank huis was a good way to continue our human rights path through Europe. It’s haunting, walking up that staircase behind the bookshelf and realizing just how small their secret annex really was. On an individual human rights level, the young children there were deprived of their childhood by being forced to live in hiding even before they were killed in the extermination and concentration camps. As a child, I never, ever debated the concept that one morning I may not be able to go play in my yard because our neighbors have decided they disagree with my fathers politics. While the latter may not be uncommon (my dad has a lot to say about politics, trust), we take for granted the ability to speak our mind wherever and whenever. Food for thought.
Then it was back to our mini-home at Blue Orange. We chillaxed for a bit longer, and then Meghan and Rachel decided they wanted to go watch World Cup soccer and I wanted more alone time. That night, I wandered. Everywhere. I stopped at a coffeeshop and read my book (the Eclipse novella – thank you Stephanie Meyers – I needed my vampire fix right about then). I got lost. Deliberately. I checked out the red light district from afar – the best way. I ventured down to the artsy “soho” area on the opposite side of the train station. I sat. I people watched. I listened to music. I stopped in another coffeeshop and read my book. I wandered through the residential areas and enjoyed the quiet along the canals. At about 2am, I was done. Off to bed, just in time for another 4-something a.m. wake up call. I forcibly fought my urge to ask them to be quiet, because I knew there was no way it would come out as anything less than “can you two drunk bitches please shut the f*ck up”.
The next morning, Meghan and Rachel set off with Rachel’s friend from Cologne, Germany, to the countryside to go see some windmills. I wandered some more – pretty much a repeat of all of yesterday’s activities, just in different parts of the city. My trip was winding down and I was sad for it to end, but also ready to be home. We said goodbye to Rachel who was headed back to Cologne, Germany with Christoph and then it was off to the airport – time to head to rainy Londontown.
So, I made a vow, and I am sticking to it – it’s my turn to get my relax on and just go along for the ride while someone else figures out what to do and how to do it. I have only one thing I want to do while I am here, and there will be no problem achieving that goal.
We arrive at the Blue Orange guesthouse. If you ever want the PERFECT place to stay in Amsterdam, stay here. http://www.xs4all.nl/~conschul/ It’s in a residential area, right on a canal, easy to walk to from the train station and a welcome change from a typical hostel. Located in the basement of a family home, when you open the doors you’re greeted with a living room and a flatscreen, a kitchenette, a bathroom with a – gasp – full bathtub!, and separate sleeping area. It was just what we needed! The family who owns it was very kind and accommodating, providing us with some great guidance and information. That night we took it easy – coffeeshop, dinner (Italian, because Dutch food is gross!), Chianti and bed!!
The next morning, I decided to start my day off with a walk. I do it every day in Baltimore with the poochies, and needed to feel a little bit normal. It was nice to wander around before the city woke up on a Sunday morning. Even though my camera was dead, I snapped some shots with the iPhone. It was nice to be quiet again. When I returned, the big question loomed – what to do and how to do it? I handed off the copies of my tour books to Meghan and Rachel and volunteered to look anything up we may need and ended it there. Suffering from a bit of PMS combined with some un-vented frustration over always being in charge resulted in me coming off as a little bit of a bitch. At that point though, I was beyond caring. That doesn’t make it okay – I probably should have cared a little bit more about hurting peoples feelings – but like I said, I was just done. We all were a bit raw at that point.
The itinerary was set – coffeeshhop/lunch, van Gough museum, Anne Frank Huis, and then who knows? Off we went. After lunch we realized that we knew where the tram station was but no idea how to navigate the network. I did my damndest with an all Dutch map and snippets of suggestions from locals, and surprisingly enough I figured it out. It was laborious, but I felt triumphant at the end. Even Rachel said something along the lines of “damn LaRee you are a good traveler – I’ll go anywhere with you”. Maybe it was just the coffee talking, since I had been a pretty big bitch that morning, but it was definitely the nicest compliment I’d gotten yet.
The van Gough museum was disappointing. It was well laid out, chronicling the life of the troubled artist and showing how his work evolved and devolved over time. I had heard tell of some Chagall’s there, but couldn’t find anything. Overall, though, I did not find the museum fulfilling. The Anne Frank huis was a good way to continue our human rights path through Europe. It’s haunting, walking up that staircase behind the bookshelf and realizing just how small their secret annex really was. On an individual human rights level, the young children there were deprived of their childhood by being forced to live in hiding even before they were killed in the extermination and concentration camps. As a child, I never, ever debated the concept that one morning I may not be able to go play in my yard because our neighbors have decided they disagree with my fathers politics. While the latter may not be uncommon (my dad has a lot to say about politics, trust), we take for granted the ability to speak our mind wherever and whenever. Food for thought.
Then it was back to our mini-home at Blue Orange. We chillaxed for a bit longer, and then Meghan and Rachel decided they wanted to go watch World Cup soccer and I wanted more alone time. That night, I wandered. Everywhere. I stopped at a coffeeshop and read my book (the Eclipse novella – thank you Stephanie Meyers – I needed my vampire fix right about then). I got lost. Deliberately. I checked out the red light district from afar – the best way. I ventured down to the artsy “soho” area on the opposite side of the train station. I sat. I people watched. I listened to music. I stopped in another coffeeshop and read my book. I wandered through the residential areas and enjoyed the quiet along the canals. At about 2am, I was done. Off to bed, just in time for another 4-something a.m. wake up call. I forcibly fought my urge to ask them to be quiet, because I knew there was no way it would come out as anything less than “can you two drunk bitches please shut the f*ck up”.
The next morning, Meghan and Rachel set off with Rachel’s friend from Cologne, Germany, to the countryside to go see some windmills. I wandered some more – pretty much a repeat of all of yesterday’s activities, just in different parts of the city. My trip was winding down and I was sad for it to end, but also ready to be home. We said goodbye to Rachel who was headed back to Cologne, Germany with Christoph and then it was off to the airport – time to head to rainy Londontown.
Pra-ah-ah-ah-ah
So Prague. Where to begin? We arrived in the evening, after the hottest train ride of the trip. Luckily we had a 6 seat cabin to ourselves, but the lack of airflow made it ridiculously uncomfortable. While Meghan and Rachel were able to sleep in the heat, I instead used the time to write 6-7 blog entries.( PS Apple - thank you for coming up with the 4.0 software upgrade for the iPhone with wireless keyboard support 3/4 of the way through my trip! My thumbs are uncannily strong now thanks to the massive amount of typing I've done on my phone.)
Anyhow, we arrive, grab a cab (who wanted way too much for the drive - luckily after being taken advantage of in Milan we knew better and talked him down to a way more reasonable price - and arrive at our hostel, the Downtown Hostel Prague. This is the first place I've been really disappointed with. The room was musty, construction started at 7am every morning (and since there was no ac it was a choice between breathing and not sleeping past 7 or suffocating slowly while you slept) and their towels for rent were the size of washcloths. I rather enjoyed watching Meghan and Rachel get creative with them, especially since we paid for an en suite bathroom and instead got exclusive use of a hall bath. For the price, I would not recommend this hostel at all.
After grabbing a snack and taking refreshing cold showers, everyones mood improved vastly and we headed out to watch the sunset over Charles bridge and grab my dinner. Prague is hedonistic in every way. The mix of gothic, baroque, classical and modern architecture creates an atmosphere that clashes to the point of blending. I was in love, quite possibly because it yet again appealed to my ADHD mind :-)
Sick of German food, we were on a mission for protein and veggies. We enjoyed a fah-bulous dinner right on the water, complete with homemade wine. Watching the sunset over te bridge and Prague castle was amazing!! We walked around for a bit longer, and then it was time for bed. I suggested a 6 hour tour by boat, bus and tram to the other girls, and although they were first opposed to the idea, they realized it was the best way to see the city for an amazingly reasonable price.
Prague Tours- our company of choice-meets in Wenceslas square every day at 10:30 am - just look for the yellow umbrellas. They have tours 2, 4 and 6 hours in length. They'll show you where the nearby ticket stand is - bring your brochure for 1/2 price tickets!! Led by locals, it was a really great experience. We started in the square, learning about the historical "velvet revolution" that freed the Czech Republic from communism. Our tour guide told us about her experience there. At age 8 she stood with her parents in that square at a rally, furiously waving two national flags. She didn't know why she was there, but she knew it was important. Sorta reminds me of another young woman, who accompanied her father to various political events and hammered yard signs supporting various political candidates. I didn't understand the reasoning behind it, only that this was part of being an American and that one day I'd be able to vote for people like those on the signs. I did know that my dad had very clear political values - I used to tell dinner guests I was going to grow up to be a "feminist environmentalist wacko" just to get a rise out of him. Little did he know I'd become a social worker - damn those McCuan genes :-) My dad loves women and the environment by the way - he just used terms like that to illustrate extremes and I knew how to chose my words well from a young age.
From there we walked through the new town, checking out the astronomical clock (amazeballs, as Meghan would say - I loved how it represents the approach to telling time from another point in history when we thought the sun revolved around the earth), a few different churches, and heading to our boat for the river cruise. It was here my camera battery died, and since I left the charger somewhere in Germany (sorry mom and dad!!) I was SOL. We saw Charles bridge, government houses, the former Stalin monument, (which also held the statue of Michael Jackson constructed for his first concert in Prague) . Now, a metronome stands in that place, but in general the Czech population still has negative feelings towards the monument location in general. From there, more walking, but with a purpose – lunch! We had traditional Czech food – meat and bread dumplings, before walking yet again. This time we toured the Jewish quarter where I found more stolpersteins (the plaques commemorating those taken away during the Holocaust), then we caught a tram to Prague Castle. The castle is….interesting. The sleek exterior clashes with the gothic churches enclosed in its middle – typical of Prague, but not quite blending as well as the rest of the city. That was the end of our tour, and we were definitely ready to go! We hiked back down the hill, back over Charles Bridge for some more shopping, and to our stuffy hostel room to take a load off before heading to dinner.
We ate at a great, modern café for dinner. Still craving veggies, we all had a salad with avocado and chicken on it. YUM! Then we went to check out a bar some people in Germany had told us about called Chapeau Rouge. Thank you google maps for getting me around Prague btw! It was a very eclectic place, with Vanilla Ice playing on the main floor as we entered and dark red walls decorated with random trinkets. We met some Americans who seemed pretty fun, hung with them for awhile, and then headed to another club – the famous five story dance club, apparently. I decided I was done for the night before we got there, and after working way too hard to convince Rachel that I would be fine walking home by myself, I headed back. Prague is pretty at night, if you can ignore the partiers from all over the world losing their cookies over the sides of fences and bridges. I did just that, and found a quiet spot on the river to enjoy some late night views. Mulling over the fact that this trip was drawing to a close soon, I realized it was time for me to relax. Taking the reins of planning for the past two and a half weeks (even though the class was planned, it was still up to oneself to take measures to get something out of it) was wearing on me. I vowed that when we got to Amsterdam tomorrow, my vacation would begin. In other words, I was no longer in charge of planning activities or figuring out how to get where.
Despite a brief wake up call at about 4:30am from Meghan and Rachel (RUDE! lol), I got a decent amount of sleep and was up ready to pack and head out the next morning. The other two, not so much! We had plenty of time that morning, and we visited the Lennon wall (amazing – got some GREAT pics with Meghan’s camera) and tried to get my camera battery charged at a local shop with no success. Then it was off to the airport for our first flight on easyjet. It was so nice to anticipate a 1 hour plane ride instead of an 8 hour train ride…except for the screaming baby on the plane part. The adventure continues….and boy was I ready for Amsterdam!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Anyhow, we arrive, grab a cab (who wanted way too much for the drive - luckily after being taken advantage of in Milan we knew better and talked him down to a way more reasonable price - and arrive at our hostel, the Downtown Hostel Prague. This is the first place I've been really disappointed with. The room was musty, construction started at 7am every morning (and since there was no ac it was a choice between breathing and not sleeping past 7 or suffocating slowly while you slept) and their towels for rent were the size of washcloths. I rather enjoyed watching Meghan and Rachel get creative with them, especially since we paid for an en suite bathroom and instead got exclusive use of a hall bath. For the price, I would not recommend this hostel at all.
After grabbing a snack and taking refreshing cold showers, everyones mood improved vastly and we headed out to watch the sunset over Charles bridge and grab my dinner. Prague is hedonistic in every way. The mix of gothic, baroque, classical and modern architecture creates an atmosphere that clashes to the point of blending. I was in love, quite possibly because it yet again appealed to my ADHD mind :-)
Sick of German food, we were on a mission for protein and veggies. We enjoyed a fah-bulous dinner right on the water, complete with homemade wine. Watching the sunset over te bridge and Prague castle was amazing!! We walked around for a bit longer, and then it was time for bed. I suggested a 6 hour tour by boat, bus and tram to the other girls, and although they were first opposed to the idea, they realized it was the best way to see the city for an amazingly reasonable price.
Prague Tours- our company of choice-meets in Wenceslas square every day at 10:30 am - just look for the yellow umbrellas. They have tours 2, 4 and 6 hours in length. They'll show you where the nearby ticket stand is - bring your brochure for 1/2 price tickets!! Led by locals, it was a really great experience. We started in the square, learning about the historical "velvet revolution" that freed the Czech Republic from communism. Our tour guide told us about her experience there. At age 8 she stood with her parents in that square at a rally, furiously waving two national flags. She didn't know why she was there, but she knew it was important. Sorta reminds me of another young woman, who accompanied her father to various political events and hammered yard signs supporting various political candidates. I didn't understand the reasoning behind it, only that this was part of being an American and that one day I'd be able to vote for people like those on the signs. I did know that my dad had very clear political values - I used to tell dinner guests I was going to grow up to be a "feminist environmentalist wacko" just to get a rise out of him. Little did he know I'd become a social worker - damn those McCuan genes :-) My dad loves women and the environment by the way - he just used terms like that to illustrate extremes and I knew how to chose my words well from a young age.
From there we walked through the new town, checking out the astronomical clock (amazeballs, as Meghan would say - I loved how it represents the approach to telling time from another point in history when we thought the sun revolved around the earth), a few different churches, and heading to our boat for the river cruise. It was here my camera battery died, and since I left the charger somewhere in Germany (sorry mom and dad!!) I was SOL. We saw Charles bridge, government houses, the former Stalin monument, (which also held the statue of Michael Jackson constructed for his first concert in Prague) . Now, a metronome stands in that place, but in general the Czech population still has negative feelings towards the monument location in general. From there, more walking, but with a purpose – lunch! We had traditional Czech food – meat and bread dumplings, before walking yet again. This time we toured the Jewish quarter where I found more stolpersteins (the plaques commemorating those taken away during the Holocaust), then we caught a tram to Prague Castle. The castle is….interesting. The sleek exterior clashes with the gothic churches enclosed in its middle – typical of Prague, but not quite blending as well as the rest of the city. That was the end of our tour, and we were definitely ready to go! We hiked back down the hill, back over Charles Bridge for some more shopping, and to our stuffy hostel room to take a load off before heading to dinner.
We ate at a great, modern café for dinner. Still craving veggies, we all had a salad with avocado and chicken on it. YUM! Then we went to check out a bar some people in Germany had told us about called Chapeau Rouge. Thank you google maps for getting me around Prague btw! It was a very eclectic place, with Vanilla Ice playing on the main floor as we entered and dark red walls decorated with random trinkets. We met some Americans who seemed pretty fun, hung with them for awhile, and then headed to another club – the famous five story dance club, apparently. I decided I was done for the night before we got there, and after working way too hard to convince Rachel that I would be fine walking home by myself, I headed back. Prague is pretty at night, if you can ignore the partiers from all over the world losing their cookies over the sides of fences and bridges. I did just that, and found a quiet spot on the river to enjoy some late night views. Mulling over the fact that this trip was drawing to a close soon, I realized it was time for me to relax. Taking the reins of planning for the past two and a half weeks (even though the class was planned, it was still up to oneself to take measures to get something out of it) was wearing on me. I vowed that when we got to Amsterdam tomorrow, my vacation would begin. In other words, I was no longer in charge of planning activities or figuring out how to get where.
Despite a brief wake up call at about 4:30am from Meghan and Rachel (RUDE! lol), I got a decent amount of sleep and was up ready to pack and head out the next morning. The other two, not so much! We had plenty of time that morning, and we visited the Lennon wall (amazing – got some GREAT pics with Meghan’s camera) and tried to get my camera battery charged at a local shop with no success. Then it was off to the airport for our first flight on easyjet. It was so nice to anticipate a 1 hour plane ride instead of an 8 hour train ride…except for the screaming baby on the plane part. The adventure continues….and boy was I ready for Amsterdam!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, June 11, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
A friend put this quote on my facebook page today
And it seemed fitting:
"People think chutzpah is in the genes. It isn’t…it’s in the needing and wanting and being willing to fall on your face. It isn't fun…who wants all that rejection, but life is sweeter if you make yourself do uncomfortable things."
-Helen Gurley Brown
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
"People think chutzpah is in the genes. It isn’t…it’s in the needing and wanting and being willing to fall on your face. It isn't fun…who wants all that rejection, but life is sweeter if you make yourself do uncomfortable things."
-Helen Gurley Brown
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Munich - thank you and good day
We leave sunny Coburg for gray Munich and moods go south. That night is spent packing and organizing - it's time to prepare for the next phase of the trip. I definitely need to lighten my load - between the murano glass, Cameron's shirts, and misc clothes I had to buy because the weather got 20 degrees hotter in Italy, there's no way my bag will fit the 20kg easyjet limit. It's an early night - without our Coburg students we're all a bit listless.
The next morning we have a 2 hour discussion and given the best gift of all - a free day! Myself, Ashley, Meghan, Rachel and Caren visit the English gardens in the heart of Munich. It's like being transported to a different world. Tall trees and open grassy areas surround a river that runs through this part of town. I'm so glad this was my last experience with this city. Up till now I had nothing really positive to say about it. Maybe it was the fact that it was finally sunny, or maybe it was the surfers riding waves in the middle of the city.
We went to the goodbye dinner at the rainbow cafe, ran by the aids clinic we visited earlier in the course. The company is great, food is outstanding, and it's a good end to an interesting 9 days. Our little group hangs out till 12am ish, investigating the interesting smell eminating from the 19-year-olds in the room across the hall (3 guesses on what it was), giving each other travel tips as we head to our next destinations, and on and on. It was sort of hard - how does a group with no real structure fast forward to the closing phase? Regardless, it doesn't matter anymore. Meghan and I have picked up another traveler from our class,Rachel, who is coming with us to Prague and Amsterdam. As I siting our private car (private because there are 6 seats but the three of us use all of them for our assortment of travel necessities) on this unbearably hot train to Prague, this iPhone is slipping through my sweaty hands because I've written ten days of blogging in the past 5 1/2 hours, I'm determined to make the most of what's happened so far and what lies ahead. Here's some Prague train pics :-)
Cute Czech House
-Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
The next morning we have a 2 hour discussion and given the best gift of all - a free day! Myself, Ashley, Meghan, Rachel and Caren visit the English gardens in the heart of Munich. It's like being transported to a different world. Tall trees and open grassy areas surround a river that runs through this part of town. I'm so glad this was my last experience with this city. Up till now I had nothing really positive to say about it. Maybe it was the fact that it was finally sunny, or maybe it was the surfers riding waves in the middle of the city.
We went to the goodbye dinner at the rainbow cafe, ran by the aids clinic we visited earlier in the course. The company is great, food is outstanding, and it's a good end to an interesting 9 days. Our little group hangs out till 12am ish, investigating the interesting smell eminating from the 19-year-olds in the room across the hall (3 guesses on what it was), giving each other travel tips as we head to our next destinations, and on and on. It was sort of hard - how does a group with no real structure fast forward to the closing phase? Regardless, it doesn't matter anymore. Meghan and I have picked up another traveler from our class,Rachel, who is coming with us to Prague and Amsterdam. As I siting our private car (private because there are 6 seats but the three of us use all of them for our assortment of travel necessities) on this unbearably hot train to Prague, this iPhone is slipping through my sweaty hands because I've written ten days of blogging in the past 5 1/2 hours, I'm determined to make the most of what's happened so far and what lies ahead. Here's some Prague train pics :-)
Cute Czech House
-Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Goodbye Coburg!
After we return from "little Berlin", we take advantage of the afternoon and wander around Coburg. It's fun looking in shop windows and watching people interact. Small towns have such a different atmosphere than larger ones both here and at home. After wandering gets old, Meghan, Caryn and I go back to Ana's. We watch sex in the city and and drink wine until it's time to go to our goodbye dinner. We toast our amazing hosts, give them a parting gift (a picture of the group taken earlier in the day) and enjoy a last night of drinking and chatting. I'm sad that our time in Coburg is over, but I'm excited for the next phase of my trip - 2 more days in Munich, then off to Prague, Amsterdam and London before it's time to go home. I can't believe 20 days have passed already!
The next morning it's time for one more seminar before heading back to Munich. We talk about the cross cultural issues we faced during our visit to Coburg. Issues like the importance of and emphasis on marriage (Americans place much more value on it than Germans), differences in basic mannerisms between the two (Americans are louder, Germans are more direct) and approaches to human rights as a whole (pretty much on the same page here - personal accounts enhance historical education and awareness) are talked about. Perhaps the most important point was the fact that human relations persevere even when human rights are threatened. For example, the bond of being a mother can cross cultural barriers - the shared experiences bring people together. We grab lunch with our hostesses, spend a last hour lounging in the grass and all of a sudden it's time to go. Our hostesses wait till the last minute, standing on the train platform and waving till we can't see you anymore. I'm excited to see my hostess again in August when she comes to NYC for a month. I hope I can repay her hospitality.
Thank you Coburg. Getting teared up so it's time to end this.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
The next morning it's time for one more seminar before heading back to Munich. We talk about the cross cultural issues we faced during our visit to Coburg. Issues like the importance of and emphasis on marriage (Americans place much more value on it than Germans), differences in basic mannerisms between the two (Americans are louder, Germans are more direct) and approaches to human rights as a whole (pretty much on the same page here - personal accounts enhance historical education and awareness) are talked about. Perhaps the most important point was the fact that human relations persevere even when human rights are threatened. For example, the bond of being a mother can cross cultural barriers - the shared experiences bring people together. We grab lunch with our hostesses, spend a last hour lounging in the grass and all of a sudden it's time to go. Our hostesses wait till the last minute, standing on the train platform and waving till we can't see you anymore. I'm excited to see my hostess again in August when she comes to NYC for a month. I hope I can repay her hospitality.
Thank you Coburg. Getting teared up so it's time to end this.
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Mödlareuth
It's Monday morning, and today we're all visiting the tiny, 50 resident village of Mödlareuth. This town is referred to at Little Berlin, because of the way it's been divided throughout history. In 1810, the kingdom of Bavaria and the principality of Reuss split it right down the center, setting up boarder markers that still stand today. After WW1 the towns loyalties were divided but they still shared the pub, school and church. After WW2 when Germany was divided into four occupation zones, the boundary lines followed the ones from 1810, once again dividing this minute town between the US and the Soviet Union. As time passed and the two different governments developed (capitalist va socialistic), a 9 foot wall was constructed along the boarder, keeping citizens on their respective sides with land mines and barbed wire. Neighbors who used to be able to see one another from their yards were no longer allowed to even wave at each other over the wall. One could only pass if given special permissions and paperwork. Families were divided and the towns cultural life suffered greatly as a result. In 1990, the wall in Little Berlin fell along with the wall in "big" Berlin, and once again the citizens of this microcosm of Germany were able to interact with freedom. As our tour guide told us stories from his childhood in the town, I was once again reminded what a difference personal accounts make when learning about history in order to create a sense of true and thorough understanding. It also made me question the logic of the decisionmakers at the times following the war. Why couldn't the boarders just be adjusted slightly to avoid dividing a town with such a small population? Were they totally devoid of rational reasoning? There's so much that is hard for me to wrap my head around about the war and the resulting measures that were implemented.
After the tour and museum, we sit outside and debrief with the professors. Someone compares what happened in Mödlareuth with what is currently happening in Mexico and the new Arizona law. I disagree, pointing out that the historical context surrounding each place is vastly different. Especially because no one was trafficking guns, drugs and people and across the boarder between either side of Mödlareuth, nor were the citizens of the small town inciting violence. I'm immediately criticized before I can get my point across - I'm not talking about the AZ issue, I'm talking about clear differences in the history and the historical context between the two. Annoyed and frustrated, I'm done with the discussion. I feel this is the ugly side of social work - an almost self righteous indignation whenever a popularly accepted belief is challenged.
On the way home I ask Ashely, who's been a valuable source of feedback for me about the way I present my perspective, what I can do differently to avoid immediate criticism and still be heard. Her answer? I can't. My ideas are so different from that of a typical social worker. Infused with patriotism, emphasis on the value of small business in the community and the economy, and some less-than-liberal perspectives on the size of government, I'm going to face criticism wherever I go. BUT while people may disagree right away, she says, I still get them thinking. She tells me that I've changed her perception of certain issues and policies, particularly concerning small businesses, as I share the impact some recent measures have had on my entrepenurial family and friends. Food for thought. If I want to get my point across and have my voice heard, I better let go of my need to be liked and accepted by everyone. I'd rather get them thinking. I have enough friends who love me for me, no matter what my opinions are. I didn't get into this profession to meet the status quo. I came to change it.
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After the tour and museum, we sit outside and debrief with the professors. Someone compares what happened in Mödlareuth with what is currently happening in Mexico and the new Arizona law. I disagree, pointing out that the historical context surrounding each place is vastly different. Especially because no one was trafficking guns, drugs and people and across the boarder between either side of Mödlareuth, nor were the citizens of the small town inciting violence. I'm immediately criticized before I can get my point across - I'm not talking about the AZ issue, I'm talking about clear differences in the history and the historical context between the two. Annoyed and frustrated, I'm done with the discussion. I feel this is the ugly side of social work - an almost self righteous indignation whenever a popularly accepted belief is challenged.
On the way home I ask Ashely, who's been a valuable source of feedback for me about the way I present my perspective, what I can do differently to avoid immediate criticism and still be heard. Her answer? I can't. My ideas are so different from that of a typical social worker. Infused with patriotism, emphasis on the value of small business in the community and the economy, and some less-than-liberal perspectives on the size of government, I'm going to face criticism wherever I go. BUT while people may disagree right away, she says, I still get them thinking. She tells me that I've changed her perception of certain issues and policies, particularly concerning small businesses, as I share the impact some recent measures have had on my entrepenurial family and friends. Food for thought. If I want to get my point across and have my voice heard, I better let go of my need to be liked and accepted by everyone. I'd rather get them thinking. I have enough friends who love me for me, no matter what my opinions are. I didn't get into this profession to meet the status quo. I came to change it.
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Sunday in Coburg
After recovering from "food poisoning", Ana's flatmate made us the biggest plate of pancakes I've ever seen, stacked literally almost 1 1/2 feet high. We ate those and bacon for a late breakfast, and decided the best cure for our ailements was fresh air. With that, we headed back to the park at the foot of veste (castle) Coburg. Ana, Caren and I just laid in the grass and people watched, read a bit, and just watched Germans go about their Sunday. It's quite similar to the ideal lazy Sunday in the US, but in Coburg and in Germany in general,every Sunday is laid-back because all the businesses are closed. I really liked that concept, only since it allows one to have a true day of rest.
Feeling rejuvinated, I decide I'm ready to head back up to the castle. Our German professor had told me Martin Luther spent six months there in hiding after being exiled by the pope. Born and raised, baptized and confirmed Lutheran, I wanted to go pay homage to the great redeemer and appreciate all that my Lutheran pastors and my experiences as a church youth leader taught me through the years. I always loved the story of the 95 theses, and that Luther refused to back down against the formidable force that was the Catholic church. This time around on the hike, I take the long way up, the way without stairs, listening to my iPod and talking to God the whole way up in my mind about what's on my mind at this point in the class and my trip in general. I get to the top - finally- and it's me and my audio guide in a museum once again. I wander around the castle area, taking in the gorgeous decor and various displays of royal dress and life. I get to the chambers where Luther was staying, sit quietly for a while and reflect, enjoying being in the moment. I headed outside, enjoying the beautiful grounds surrounding the castle and the panoramic view of Coburg before heading back down.
That night, Ana took Caren, Meghan and her Ana and myself to tapas with some friends of hers. Ana kept trying to explain to us what she and her friends were talking about, but we urged her to enjoy her friends and not worry about us. I think we all needed a break. It was early to bed that night, fat and happy once again. Thank you, Germany, for the extra squishiness I've noticed in my arms and midsection the past few days. It'll be time to hit the gym hard when I return.
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Feeling rejuvinated, I decide I'm ready to head back up to the castle. Our German professor had told me Martin Luther spent six months there in hiding after being exiled by the pope. Born and raised, baptized and confirmed Lutheran, I wanted to go pay homage to the great redeemer and appreciate all that my Lutheran pastors and my experiences as a church youth leader taught me through the years. I always loved the story of the 95 theses, and that Luther refused to back down against the formidable force that was the Catholic church. This time around on the hike, I take the long way up, the way without stairs, listening to my iPod and talking to God the whole way up in my mind about what's on my mind at this point in the class and my trip in general. I get to the top - finally- and it's me and my audio guide in a museum once again. I wander around the castle area, taking in the gorgeous decor and various displays of royal dress and life. I get to the chambers where Luther was staying, sit quietly for a while and reflect, enjoying being in the moment. I headed outside, enjoying the beautiful grounds surrounding the castle and the panoramic view of Coburg before heading back down.
That night, Ana took Caren, Meghan and her Ana and myself to tapas with some friends of hers. Ana kept trying to explain to us what she and her friends were talking about, but we urged her to enjoy her friends and not worry about us. I think we all needed a break. It was early to bed that night, fat and happy once again. Thank you, Germany, for the extra squishiness I've noticed in my arms and midsection the past few days. It'll be time to hit the gym hard when I return.
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Nuremburg
The next morning, we all boarded a train to Nuremburg. Today we were visiting the documentation center museum and the way of human rights. I've found I prefer to explore museums on my own - just me and my audio guide. The museum was very well done. Built into the remains of a massive Nazi structure, it was a reminder to me how truly delusional Hitler was about his own grandeur. The museum did an excellent job of laying out the process of Hitler's rise to power, taking a methodical and comprehensive approach that began with pre-WW2 German history and ended with a picture of American troops and an American flag on the top of the structure where the museum now stands. One thing I saw that bothered me was pictures of young children saluting and cheering for Hitler. There's another picture of him, surrounded by kids, where he has a demeanor that almost looks human unless you know that he was pure evil behind that smiling face and fatherly gestures. It's poetic justice how, on that very structure built to exhibit the powerful nature of the Nazi party, individuals are now learning about their cult-like nature, the massive human rights violations they inflicted, and their ultimate demise. The purpose of learning about it, particularly in the fashion the museum presents it, is so it will never, ever be repeated. What can I say - karmas a bitch. :-)
We visited the way of human rights after that. I really liked how it incorporated so many different areas of the world, although I can only imagine the political drama surrounding the decisions about what article should be written in which language, etc etc.
Myself,Caryn, Rachel, Meghan and Amy walked around with Meghan's hostess Ana that afternoon. We did a little shopping, ate nuremburg sausages which are sort of like breakfast sausages and headed home around 5. We arrived just in time to jump in the shower and get ready for the design school party that evening.
We ate Italian food that night with our hostess Ana, her friend from Nuremberg, Ulrich and his friend Flo. It was this Italian food that would cause us to get "food poisoning" and miss tomorrows trip to Flossenberg. From there we headed to the design school party, which was, well, wow. They had outdoor tents with bonfires and couches and bars, and inside an old castle-like house there were two dj's spinning electronic and techno. Outside exhibits from design students served as decor and created a very modern atmosphere, contrasting sharply with the traditional landscape of Coburg. Inside, the electronic was a bit more mainstream and everyone seemed more comfortable there, so we danced for hours and hours. It was a great transition when all of a sudden the dj switched to The Roots and other hiphop I happen to love but that not as mainstream in the US as I think it should be. We went home, totally spent, and passed out.
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We visited the way of human rights after that. I really liked how it incorporated so many different areas of the world, although I can only imagine the political drama surrounding the decisions about what article should be written in which language, etc etc.
Myself,Caryn, Rachel, Meghan and Amy walked around with Meghan's hostess Ana that afternoon. We did a little shopping, ate nuremburg sausages which are sort of like breakfast sausages and headed home around 5. We arrived just in time to jump in the shower and get ready for the design school party that evening.
We ate Italian food that night with our hostess Ana, her friend from Nuremberg, Ulrich and his friend Flo. It was this Italian food that would cause us to get "food poisoning" and miss tomorrows trip to Flossenberg. From there we headed to the design school party, which was, well, wow. They had outdoor tents with bonfires and couches and bars, and inside an old castle-like house there were two dj's spinning electronic and techno. Outside exhibits from design students served as decor and created a very modern atmosphere, contrasting sharply with the traditional landscape of Coburg. Inside, the electronic was a bit more mainstream and everyone seemed more comfortable there, so we danced for hours and hours. It was a great transition when all of a sudden the dj switched to The Roots and other hiphop I happen to love but that not as mainstream in the US as I think it should be. We went home, totally spent, and passed out.
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Classrooms are overrated....or not
The rest of the second afternoon was spent at the University. After sampling some of the cafeteria food (god bless the SMC campus center at UMB and the amazing food at Bon Appetite!) it was time to see the students PowerPoint presentations. The students covered concepts of human rights education, the importance of memorials and meanings behind them, racism, and Turkish immigrants in Germany. My Ana talked about racism, facilitating the most heated debate of the afternoon among both sets of students. I really enjoyed watching both groups interact. Bonded by our common interest in social work but the products of highly differentiated backgrounds, the ping-pong-ness of the debate made it both exciting and informative. The exciting part was a special accomplishment, considering we had all just eaten and were in a very hot classroom (the Germans don't believe in AC) which usually results in students dozing off.
Then, the tenured professor from a university in Minnesota traveling with our group presented about the Chikota (sp?) indians, aka the Sioux, who rose against the US government and their unfulfilled promises in the town of Mankato (sp). Mankato, a town comprised majorly of German immigrants, was attacked in response to the oppression of the true Native Americans. It was an excellent way to draw parallels between our two countries and human rights issues. It also made me remember my Cherokee heritage and my great great great grandfather who walked the Trail of Tears. So often I forget how we treated those who truly had been in America first, and realized that I needed to improve my cultural competence in this particular area.
That evening the same group headed out. We had dinner at another student hangout and then headed up to the castle to watch the sunset. What a hike - especially after a few German beers. It was worth it though!!!! Then we headed back to Ana's flat, fully intending to go back out but getting a bit sidetracked.....We had wodka (vodka) shots and watched YouTube videos. Anjela Johnson is yet another thing that crosses cultures. So is the sassy gay friend and David goes to the dentist. If you don't know what I'm talking about, get on YouTube and search those terms. Now. <3
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Then, the tenured professor from a university in Minnesota traveling with our group presented about the Chikota (sp?) indians, aka the Sioux, who rose against the US government and their unfulfilled promises in the town of Mankato (sp). Mankato, a town comprised majorly of German immigrants, was attacked in response to the oppression of the true Native Americans. It was an excellent way to draw parallels between our two countries and human rights issues. It also made me remember my Cherokee heritage and my great great great grandfather who walked the Trail of Tears. So often I forget how we treated those who truly had been in America first, and realized that I needed to improve my cultural competence in this particular area.
That evening the same group headed out. We had dinner at another student hangout and then headed up to the castle to watch the sunset. What a hike - especially after a few German beers. It was worth it though!!!! Then we headed back to Ana's flat, fully intending to go back out but getting a bit sidetracked.....We had wodka (vodka) shots and watched YouTube videos. Anjela Johnson is yet another thing that crosses cultures. So is the sassy gay friend and David goes to the dentist. If you don't know what I'm talking about, get on YouTube and search those terms. Now. <3
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Getting our learn on in Coburg - For Reals :-)
We woke up to sunshine streaming through the windows - hurray! Ana made us breakfast (eggs, meat, bread and capuccino) and dropped us off at the start point for our city tour. She headed back home to finish up the PowerPoint presentation for our class that afternoon and we began our tour. It's amazing how much nicer things look in the sunshine :-) Coburg is a gorgeous city, set in the foothills of a small mountain range, one of which has a castle on top - Veste Coburg. More about the castle later.
As we ventured around the small city, I admired it's contrast to Munich. Munich is so clean and well-polished it's almost sterile, while Coburg is quaint and homey with classic German architecture. We visited several stolpersteins - gold plaques inlaid in the ground in front of the homes of Coburg citizens who were affected by the Nazis. They had either been deported to concentration camps or fled to other areas or countries in an effort to avoid persecution. Our student guide read biographies of each individual. This stood out to me and helped me to realize that understanding individual stories makes WW2 more personal. In other words, up until this point I'd been unable to relate to it on a personal level - it had just been a part of history. Standing in this quaint small town, you get a micro perspective on the upheaval of the war. As I write this a few days later I'm beginning to understand why this course is structured the way it is. And I also realize - surprise surprise - that I don't know everything about everything after all. As my dear professor Olsen advised me in response to my frustration, just being present in the moment is valuable in and of itself. Ignore the lack of structure and disorganization - something I clearly need to work on - and just be.
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As we ventured around the small city, I admired it's contrast to Munich. Munich is so clean and well-polished it's almost sterile, while Coburg is quaint and homey with classic German architecture. We visited several stolpersteins - gold plaques inlaid in the ground in front of the homes of Coburg citizens who were affected by the Nazis. They had either been deported to concentration camps or fled to other areas or countries in an effort to avoid persecution. Our student guide read biographies of each individual. This stood out to me and helped me to realize that understanding individual stories makes WW2 more personal. In other words, up until this point I'd been unable to relate to it on a personal level - it had just been a part of history. Standing in this quaint small town, you get a micro perspective on the upheaval of the war. As I write this a few days later I'm beginning to understand why this course is structured the way it is. And I also realize - surprise surprise - that I don't know everything about everything after all. As my dear professor Olsen advised me in response to my frustration, just being present in the moment is valuable in and of itself. Ignore the lack of structure and disorganization - something I clearly need to work on - and just be.
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Coburg - Awkward Turtle, I'm Just Saying
So there we were....a group of American students fresh as a daisy (ha!!) from a 5 hour train ride anxiously awaiting for our German host students to arrive at the itty bitty Coburg train station. These students would be providing us with a home in their flats for the next five nights, and we had never once spoken to any of them. To say that I was anxious would be an understatement, but a little part of me was super excited to start the next phase of our trip and learning experience. When the students arrived, it was reminiscient of the sixth grade dance,except instead of boys and girls on opposite sides staring at one another it was Americans and Germans.
Finally, a few of us on either side, myself included, ended the staredown and stepped forward to begin the introductions. We paired up, and myself and Caren went off with Ana. She quickly was titled "our German mom" for both her patient willingness to translate everything (and I mean everything) and the amazing breakfasts and capuccino that would be ready for us when we woke up. She showed us to her flat, in the central part of town overlooking the marketplatz. Even though it was on the third floor, the walk was bearable every time because we got to smell fresh coffee being stored for the coffeehouse on the first floor. After dropping off our bags, we headed out. After all, it was sunny and 70's in Coburg - a welcome change from cold and wet Munich. I'm more than positive that the weather had a direct relationship with increase in happiness among our group as a whole.
We enjoyed some new beers at the pub and chatting with Ana, asking her all kinds of questions. What American tv shows do you like? (Lost until it got boring, Boston Legal, Modern Family) What kind of music do you like? (Caren asked about Miley Cyrus and Ana replied "Hannah Montana - oh the things that are universal) What books do you like? (Twilight! Hurray!!!!) What do you want to do with your social work degree? (work with kids, which she already does at her internship). From here the conversation just flowed, and any apprehension fell by the wayside.
We met up for a group dinner, where we met more German students. One who became somewhat of a fixture was Ulrich, aka Ulley. I say he was a fixture because his abrubt way of speaking and overall slight awkwardness in almost everything he did coupled with boyish charm and a penchant for wearing 2 plaid patterns together resulted in Caren referring to him as "akward turtle". After awhile even he took to using the term, which sounded een funnier from his mouth.
After we had a not so great dinner that we barely noticed because we were enamored with our new German friends, it was time to head out and about in Coburg! It was then we realized we were in a typical small college town, with a few small bars and beergardens that were mostly empty since that day was a bank holiday. Instead, we (me, Caryn, Ana, her flatmate Constantine, Meghan and her hostess also named Ana) went to a hookah bar. We laughed and enjoyed mango hooka. As we headed home to bed (actually Ana's bed she so graciously gave us while she slept in her other flatmates room), we declared that Coburg was way better than Munich, not only because it was sunny but because the company we had would finally provide the cultural immersion we, or at least I, so intensely desired.
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Finally, a few of us on either side, myself included, ended the staredown and stepped forward to begin the introductions. We paired up, and myself and Caren went off with Ana. She quickly was titled "our German mom" for both her patient willingness to translate everything (and I mean everything) and the amazing breakfasts and capuccino that would be ready for us when we woke up. She showed us to her flat, in the central part of town overlooking the marketplatz. Even though it was on the third floor, the walk was bearable every time because we got to smell fresh coffee being stored for the coffeehouse on the first floor. After dropping off our bags, we headed out. After all, it was sunny and 70's in Coburg - a welcome change from cold and wet Munich. I'm more than positive that the weather had a direct relationship with increase in happiness among our group as a whole.
We enjoyed some new beers at the pub and chatting with Ana, asking her all kinds of questions. What American tv shows do you like? (Lost until it got boring, Boston Legal, Modern Family) What kind of music do you like? (Caren asked about Miley Cyrus and Ana replied "Hannah Montana - oh the things that are universal) What books do you like? (Twilight! Hurray!!!!) What do you want to do with your social work degree? (work with kids, which she already does at her internship). From here the conversation just flowed, and any apprehension fell by the wayside.
We met up for a group dinner, where we met more German students. One who became somewhat of a fixture was Ulrich, aka Ulley. I say he was a fixture because his abrubt way of speaking and overall slight awkwardness in almost everything he did coupled with boyish charm and a penchant for wearing 2 plaid patterns together resulted in Caren referring to him as "akward turtle". After awhile even he took to using the term, which sounded een funnier from his mouth.
After we had a not so great dinner that we barely noticed because we were enamored with our new German friends, it was time to head out and about in Coburg! It was then we realized we were in a typical small college town, with a few small bars and beergardens that were mostly empty since that day was a bank holiday. Instead, we (me, Caryn, Ana, her flatmate Constantine, Meghan and her hostess also named Ana) went to a hookah bar. We laughed and enjoyed mango hooka. As we headed home to bed (actually Ana's bed she so graciously gave us while she slept in her other flatmates room), we declared that Coburg was way better than Munich, not only because it was sunny but because the company we had would finally provide the cultural immersion we, or at least I, so intensely desired.
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Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Dachau
I definitely needed a few days to process this particular experience. So here goes.
Let's start with the weather. Surprise surprise it's rainy and cold in Munich and surrounding areas. In this case, the dank chill seems fitting. En route to Dachau, I'm feeling nervous about how I will wind up percieving this particular experience. I send up a quick prayer and ask God to clear my mind of the frustration I'm feeling with the course in general and other peripheral issues that easily distract this ADHD mind of mine. Instead, I ask to be completely present in this place which served as the model for the multiple concentration and extermination camps used to further Hitler's twisted agenda. I vow to remember the ancestors of my dear friends who suffered in places modeled after Dachau - the template for all other concentration camps built during the war.
As we wait in the visitors center, I experience a feeling of incongruence. It doesn't feel right to be sitting in a cafeteria at the site that once represented a bleak and uncertain future for those who passed through it's gates. As we start our tour I ask our guide if the uneven cobblestone streets leading to the entrance are the originals. They are. I imagine what it must have been like for those who walked those same paths not realizing what awaited them on the other side of the gate.
Recounting everything I saw inside the camp would be pointless, since it's something that one can only understand via firsthand experience. Instead I'll just talk about some emotions I experienced and things I learned. As we sat in the room that used to be tr intake room, I looked out the windows facing the bleak landscape of building after building of barracks. It's errie, thinking about how many people were housed in those identical buildings. What were those in the intake room thinking as they looked outside at what their future held? As they were methodically stripped of their identities, what went through their minds? I am scared when I am stripped of my iPhone, nevermind my identity. It definitely puts things in perspective.
Moving to the rooms with the showers (actual showers, not the gas chambers in disguise), the original drains are still in place and exposed. I look down at it, imagine a prisoner getting their one shower per week and how they felt as they rinsed off a week of hard work. If the guards were in foul moods, the water would be unbearably hot or freezing cold, in which case no one actually got a real shower. The tour guide described the majority of SS officers as "simple men". How did people like that move up in the ranks to have the power to inflict major pain and suffering on a population targeted for their beliefs and/or lifestyles?
As we approached the gas chamber and creamatorium I felt ill. Even though Dachau was never used for mass killings, it was almost even more disconcerting that this was the model for places such as Auschwitz. It was the only time I really cried the entire tour. I just can't wrap my mind around the idea of building concentration camps like mcdonalds - all modeled after this very place.
The gas chambers are on the far side of the property. Just on the othe side of the fence you can see houses in the town of Dachau. Sometimes, village residents would give prisoners working in town pieces of bread, but for the most part they willingly chose to live in ignorance aboutl the horrific things going on in their backyard. What came over the the citizens? Were they paralyzed by fear? Or characterized by an apathy that is an innate part of human nature only brought out by the most extenuating of conditions? Either one is disturbing and a phenomena one can never fully understand unless through direct experience.
The trip home left my mind surprisingly quiet. We had a debrief, but since our professor wasn't there at Dachau with us it was yet another exercise in frustration. Without sharing an experience like that one it's hard to want to talk about it. I was really was grateful for my friends that night. We talked about it amongst ourselves. Perhaps the best part of this trip is the friends I've made and the conversations we've had. There's people from all over the country on this trip, and I've forgotten how different individuals from different areas approach various social work related issues as well as life in general.
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Let's start with the weather. Surprise surprise it's rainy and cold in Munich and surrounding areas. In this case, the dank chill seems fitting. En route to Dachau, I'm feeling nervous about how I will wind up percieving this particular experience. I send up a quick prayer and ask God to clear my mind of the frustration I'm feeling with the course in general and other peripheral issues that easily distract this ADHD mind of mine. Instead, I ask to be completely present in this place which served as the model for the multiple concentration and extermination camps used to further Hitler's twisted agenda. I vow to remember the ancestors of my dear friends who suffered in places modeled after Dachau - the template for all other concentration camps built during the war.
As we wait in the visitors center, I experience a feeling of incongruence. It doesn't feel right to be sitting in a cafeteria at the site that once represented a bleak and uncertain future for those who passed through it's gates. As we start our tour I ask our guide if the uneven cobblestone streets leading to the entrance are the originals. They are. I imagine what it must have been like for those who walked those same paths not realizing what awaited them on the other side of the gate.
Recounting everything I saw inside the camp would be pointless, since it's something that one can only understand via firsthand experience. Instead I'll just talk about some emotions I experienced and things I learned. As we sat in the room that used to be tr intake room, I looked out the windows facing the bleak landscape of building after building of barracks. It's errie, thinking about how many people were housed in those identical buildings. What were those in the intake room thinking as they looked outside at what their future held? As they were methodically stripped of their identities, what went through their minds? I am scared when I am stripped of my iPhone, nevermind my identity. It definitely puts things in perspective.
Moving to the rooms with the showers (actual showers, not the gas chambers in disguise), the original drains are still in place and exposed. I look down at it, imagine a prisoner getting their one shower per week and how they felt as they rinsed off a week of hard work. If the guards were in foul moods, the water would be unbearably hot or freezing cold, in which case no one actually got a real shower. The tour guide described the majority of SS officers as "simple men". How did people like that move up in the ranks to have the power to inflict major pain and suffering on a population targeted for their beliefs and/or lifestyles?
As we approached the gas chamber and creamatorium I felt ill. Even though Dachau was never used for mass killings, it was almost even more disconcerting that this was the model for places such as Auschwitz. It was the only time I really cried the entire tour. I just can't wrap my mind around the idea of building concentration camps like mcdonalds - all modeled after this very place.
The gas chambers are on the far side of the property. Just on the othe side of the fence you can see houses in the town of Dachau. Sometimes, village residents would give prisoners working in town pieces of bread, but for the most part they willingly chose to live in ignorance aboutl the horrific things going on in their backyard. What came over the the citizens? Were they paralyzed by fear? Or characterized by an apathy that is an innate part of human nature only brought out by the most extenuating of conditions? Either one is disturbing and a phenomena one can never fully understand unless through direct experience.
The trip home left my mind surprisingly quiet. We had a debrief, but since our professor wasn't there at Dachau with us it was yet another exercise in frustration. Without sharing an experience like that one it's hard to want to talk about it. I was really was grateful for my friends that night. We talked about it amongst ourselves. Perhaps the best part of this trip is the friends I've made and the conversations we've had. There's people from all over the country on this trip, and I've forgotten how different individuals from different areas approach various social work related issues as well as life in general.
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Wednesday, June 2, 2010
More Munich!!!!
Now that that is out of my system, I am excited to talk about what I have been doing in Munich without including the frustrating parts.
On the second day, we visited Munchner Aids - Hlife, an HIV/AIDS outreach organization providing services to those who suffer from the disease as well as engage in community outreach for the infected and at-risk populations. While the discussion was interesting, it seems to essentially be the same as every other outreach organization addressing the same issue in the US. I was impressed that it was for the most part a self sustaining organization, using profits from the cafe they run and other vocational focused ventures. I feel strongly that vocational focused interventions are crucially important in order to ensure long term self efficacy and reduce long term dependence on the system. However, this organization was different from one we visited in El Salvador because Germany doesn't have the same cultural barriers to implementation of interventions as that region of the world. If anything, Germany seems to be advanced even more so than the US in how the perceive the GLBT population, having representation in various political bodies such as the city council. As a result there are fewer barriers when it comes to getting the word out in a clear and concise manner. Most definitely food for thought.
Then we had lunch, processed, and had the rest of the day free. My roomies and I are really getting to know each other since we spend lots of time hanging out in the bunks. We napped, sleeping off the remainder of the hangover from the previous night, and headed out to do some shopping. I was on a mission to find some shirts for my friend Cameron, who had a particular brand of shirts that can only be found in Germany he really wanted. After finally finding a place that carried them, I realized that the sizing was just different enough to be confusing, and decided to return tomorrow after clarifying with him. It was back to the hostel for a disappointing dinner up the street and off to bed. Going to sleep at night is harder here. I remember at the end of the day in El Salvador (pardon the constant comparison but that is my only other study abroad frame of reference) I looked forward to bedtime because by the end of the day I was totally exhausted. Here, we all seem to be wound up, and usually wind up laughing ourselves to sleep. While I am making great friends, I can't help feeling that something is missing.
The next day we met with Franz Josef Mueller, who participated in the White Rose. They were a nonviolent protest group that resisted Nazism. Students of the University of Munich and their philosophy professor implemented various efforts, most notably a anonymous leaflet campaign calling for opposition to Hitler's agenda. He and the 6 other members were arrested by the Gestapo, but since he looked more like the Germans ideal species than the Jews, he was treated more humanely than the others. He was liberated by US forces only two months after his arrest. I found several things about this now 90 year old man to be inspirational. First, instead of focusing on the tragedy stemming from the Holocaust, he instead focused on how it forced previously opposing forces to work together, such as the Catholics and Protestants who were also an endangered population at this time of civil unrest. Second, I just loved how much affection he had for the troops who liberated them - every time he mentioned US forces he did it with a smile and the sincerest form of gratitude. ''The US forces gave me the best gift one can get - liberty''. I left feeling proud to be an American, and valuing the fact that at least I know I am free.
We had an official historic walking tour of Munich that afternoon. I finally felt I had gained some knowledge about the history and culture of Munich. Our tour guide was great - very knowledgeable and proud of the versatile and resilient nature of the Jewish population in Europe. I also loved that he knew where Baltimore was due to the fact that he had watched The Wire. If you know me, you know I live and die by that show for many different reasons. That's a convo for another blog though. The rest of the night was pretty much more of the same. I got to talk to my mom, who started her radiation treatment for stage 1 breast cancer today. Always the strongest woman I know, she is powering through it and says she's doing okay despite it all. I wish I were home but talking to her made me feel better. I love her so much and am so grateful for the relationship we have today after everything I put her through. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers.
On the second day, we visited Munchner Aids - Hlife, an HIV/AIDS outreach organization providing services to those who suffer from the disease as well as engage in community outreach for the infected and at-risk populations. While the discussion was interesting, it seems to essentially be the same as every other outreach organization addressing the same issue in the US. I was impressed that it was for the most part a self sustaining organization, using profits from the cafe they run and other vocational focused ventures. I feel strongly that vocational focused interventions are crucially important in order to ensure long term self efficacy and reduce long term dependence on the system. However, this organization was different from one we visited in El Salvador because Germany doesn't have the same cultural barriers to implementation of interventions as that region of the world. If anything, Germany seems to be advanced even more so than the US in how the perceive the GLBT population, having representation in various political bodies such as the city council. As a result there are fewer barriers when it comes to getting the word out in a clear and concise manner. Most definitely food for thought.
Then we had lunch, processed, and had the rest of the day free. My roomies and I are really getting to know each other since we spend lots of time hanging out in the bunks. We napped, sleeping off the remainder of the hangover from the previous night, and headed out to do some shopping. I was on a mission to find some shirts for my friend Cameron, who had a particular brand of shirts that can only be found in Germany he really wanted. After finally finding a place that carried them, I realized that the sizing was just different enough to be confusing, and decided to return tomorrow after clarifying with him. It was back to the hostel for a disappointing dinner up the street and off to bed. Going to sleep at night is harder here. I remember at the end of the day in El Salvador (pardon the constant comparison but that is my only other study abroad frame of reference) I looked forward to bedtime because by the end of the day I was totally exhausted. Here, we all seem to be wound up, and usually wind up laughing ourselves to sleep. While I am making great friends, I can't help feeling that something is missing.
The next day we met with Franz Josef Mueller, who participated in the White Rose. They were a nonviolent protest group that resisted Nazism. Students of the University of Munich and their philosophy professor implemented various efforts, most notably a anonymous leaflet campaign calling for opposition to Hitler's agenda. He and the 6 other members were arrested by the Gestapo, but since he looked more like the Germans ideal species than the Jews, he was treated more humanely than the others. He was liberated by US forces only two months after his arrest. I found several things about this now 90 year old man to be inspirational. First, instead of focusing on the tragedy stemming from the Holocaust, he instead focused on how it forced previously opposing forces to work together, such as the Catholics and Protestants who were also an endangered population at this time of civil unrest. Second, I just loved how much affection he had for the troops who liberated them - every time he mentioned US forces he did it with a smile and the sincerest form of gratitude. ''The US forces gave me the best gift one can get - liberty''. I left feeling proud to be an American, and valuing the fact that at least I know I am free.
We had an official historic walking tour of Munich that afternoon. I finally felt I had gained some knowledge about the history and culture of Munich. Our tour guide was great - very knowledgeable and proud of the versatile and resilient nature of the Jewish population in Europe. I also loved that he knew where Baltimore was due to the fact that he had watched The Wire. If you know me, you know I live and die by that show for many different reasons. That's a convo for another blog though. The rest of the night was pretty much more of the same. I got to talk to my mom, who started her radiation treatment for stage 1 breast cancer today. Always the strongest woman I know, she is powering through it and says she's doing okay despite it all. I wish I were home but talking to her made me feel better. I love her so much and am so grateful for the relationship we have today after everything I put her through. Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers.
Trying to Get my Learn On is Proving Difficult
So before I blog about the past few days, let me first explain about my prior study abroad experience. I went to El Salvador with some fellow UMB students over winter break for 10 days, the same length as this current trip. That trip was overwhelming in the sense that we were all without the creature comforts that we take for granted, but also in the sense that we were exposed to some of the most horrific firsthand accounts of brutal violence and human rights violations. We were accompanied by two UMB professors, the amazing Jody Olsen (fmr acting director of the Peace Corps for three presidents) and Dick Cook, the director of the UMB Social Work Community Outreach program. These professors joined us for each and every activity and served as invaluable resources for the students as they processed what they were learning. Their professional experiences that they related made them crucial assets for enhancing the learning experience. This particular trip was done in cooperation with CIS El Salvador (http://www.cis-elsalvador.org/) who put together a well defined and jam packed itinerary lead by an immensely competent guide, a local El Salvadorean woman who we could relate to in several ways. This was especially important when it came to developing a thorough understanding of El Salvadorean history and culture, a crucial component of any study abroad experience in my humble opinion as the one doing the learning. I often say that that particular trip, while not fun by any definition, made me a better person and a better social work practitioner. Total cost: $800, all meals included.
This trip is much different. I am trying very hard not to dwell on my frustration but I think it's important for me to get my feelings out here. The organization is lacking to say the least. The itinerary is never actually what we wind up doing. Our days consist of equally as much waiting on public transportation (In El Salvador we had a bus that took us everywhere!!) We have one, maybe two activities per day, at the end of which I find myself thinking....okay, now what? The professor, a dual citizen of Germany and the US, rarely accompanies us on any of the activities, leaving her TA in charge. The TA is a genuinely nice young man, but his knowledge of basic German history and culture is lacking at best, frustrating when trying to understand what you are looking at at a place like Dachau where we visited today. My frustration is I find myself having great difficulty trying to absorb as much as humanly possible and applying it to my framework of social work practice when I can't even comprehend the history and culture of the people, places and things we're seeing. So my question is, how do I overcome this obstacle? What do I need to do in order to enable more effective learning? I diligently brushed up on my German history before arriving, but a basic knowledge is no match for cultural immersion. There's only so much beer at the Hofbrau Haus (supposedly the pinnacle of German culture in Munich) 100 euro can buy. I came to learn and I am missing an important tool. Despite the requests of other students and myself for additional instructor involvement, nothing has been resolved. By the way, the total cost of this 10 day trip is $2,900 including a $100 euro stipend for all three meals for 10 days.
This trip is much different. I am trying very hard not to dwell on my frustration but I think it's important for me to get my feelings out here. The organization is lacking to say the least. The itinerary is never actually what we wind up doing. Our days consist of equally as much waiting on public transportation (In El Salvador we had a bus that took us everywhere!!) We have one, maybe two activities per day, at the end of which I find myself thinking....okay, now what? The professor, a dual citizen of Germany and the US, rarely accompanies us on any of the activities, leaving her TA in charge. The TA is a genuinely nice young man, but his knowledge of basic German history and culture is lacking at best, frustrating when trying to understand what you are looking at at a place like Dachau where we visited today. My frustration is I find myself having great difficulty trying to absorb as much as humanly possible and applying it to my framework of social work practice when I can't even comprehend the history and culture of the people, places and things we're seeing. So my question is, how do I overcome this obstacle? What do I need to do in order to enable more effective learning? I diligently brushed up on my German history before arriving, but a basic knowledge is no match for cultural immersion. There's only so much beer at the Hofbrau Haus (supposedly the pinnacle of German culture in Munich) 100 euro can buy. I came to learn and I am missing an important tool. Despite the requests of other students and myself for additional instructor involvement, nothing has been resolved. By the way, the total cost of this 10 day trip is $2,900 including a $100 euro stipend for all three meals for 10 days.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
I'm on a roll - Munich Days 1&2
So I know I will not be able to sleep till I get caught up on these entries, so I'll get as far as I can on my stay in Munich as the 23 remaining minutes on my internet pass will allow.
We arrived at the hostel, exhaused, not well rested, and looking a fright at 7:15am after our overnight train ride. Without an available room, we did the best we could with the couches in the common room. The bumpin ke$ha and gaga playing overhead was not conducive to sleep for normal people, but three tired backpackers did just fine. I woke up when Meghan told me that some other people from our class had arrived, and their first impression of me was of a sleep deprived, unbrushed teeth and hair, overall hot mess. I apparently pulled it off well, as most of them would become my roomies just a few hour s later. We chatted, and they headed on an informal tour while Meghan and I did much needed laundry. Upon their return, we fell into roomie groups pretty naturally - I learned in El Salvador social workers are good at picking out roomies and its best to go with your gut. Ever collaborative, we walked to the supermarket and got some food for the week. Its amazing how well we all worked together to ensure we had everything we needed. In that grocery store, Meghan made the profound quote as we sought out plastic utensils (no forks or spoons in Germany, just plastic sporks) that 'social workers are the sporks of the world'. TRUE STORY!
After another informal walking tour cut short by the rain, we broke off, our new group of friends intact, and headed back to the hostel for dinner next door. This independence affirmed my gut reaction that I would get along with these ladies just fine! Sleeping in a top bunk never felt so good. At least this one was normal size and I have enough overhead clearance to be able to sit up straight!!
Again, the rain the next day interrupted what was supposed to be an official walking tour. This trip did not seem to be as structured or well planned as my last study abroad experience, leading to frustration and dissent among the ranks. Meghan never ceases to surprise me. All the bitching and moaning about how boring the organizational and community section of our practice course was, lo and behold who stepped up and demanded to the leader that our group set 'norms and rules because if they aren't set in the beginning groups will not be able to maximize productivity'. I almost cried with happiness!!! WOOOO!!!!!!
After wandering in the rain, we were all more than ready for Hofbrauhaus. Amazing beer, adventurous German food, and a few new friends later, it was back to the hostel to change and head out. After one of West Points finest recent grads continually pursued me without any encouragement for the most part by the way, it was once again time for Meg to step in and regulate. She laid down the law and the offending young man headed off in a taxi with his tail between his legs. God bless that woman - I adore her!!
Okay, I'm out of time. Hopefully tomorrow I will be back on track!!
We arrived at the hostel, exhaused, not well rested, and looking a fright at 7:15am after our overnight train ride. Without an available room, we did the best we could with the couches in the common room. The bumpin ke$ha and gaga playing overhead was not conducive to sleep for normal people, but three tired backpackers did just fine. I woke up when Meghan told me that some other people from our class had arrived, and their first impression of me was of a sleep deprived, unbrushed teeth and hair, overall hot mess. I apparently pulled it off well, as most of them would become my roomies just a few hour s later. We chatted, and they headed on an informal tour while Meghan and I did much needed laundry. Upon their return, we fell into roomie groups pretty naturally - I learned in El Salvador social workers are good at picking out roomies and its best to go with your gut. Ever collaborative, we walked to the supermarket and got some food for the week. Its amazing how well we all worked together to ensure we had everything we needed. In that grocery store, Meghan made the profound quote as we sought out plastic utensils (no forks or spoons in Germany, just plastic sporks) that 'social workers are the sporks of the world'. TRUE STORY!
After another informal walking tour cut short by the rain, we broke off, our new group of friends intact, and headed back to the hostel for dinner next door. This independence affirmed my gut reaction that I would get along with these ladies just fine! Sleeping in a top bunk never felt so good. At least this one was normal size and I have enough overhead clearance to be able to sit up straight!!
Again, the rain the next day interrupted what was supposed to be an official walking tour. This trip did not seem to be as structured or well planned as my last study abroad experience, leading to frustration and dissent among the ranks. Meghan never ceases to surprise me. All the bitching and moaning about how boring the organizational and community section of our practice course was, lo and behold who stepped up and demanded to the leader that our group set 'norms and rules because if they aren't set in the beginning groups will not be able to maximize productivity'. I almost cried with happiness!!! WOOOO!!!!!!
After wandering in the rain, we were all more than ready for Hofbrauhaus. Amazing beer, adventurous German food, and a few new friends later, it was back to the hostel to change and head out. After one of West Points finest recent grads continually pursued me without any encouragement for the most part by the way, it was once again time for Meg to step in and regulate. She laid down the law and the offending young man headed off in a taxi with his tail between his legs. God bless that woman - I adore her!!
Okay, I'm out of time. Hopefully tomorrow I will be back on track!!
Venice - Beautiful Confusion
We arrive in Venice around 7pm. We jump off the train and right outside there's the vaporetto - a boat /bus that's the major form of public transportation there. It was actually quite refreshing to not see a single car. Anywhere. It makes the city much quieter - even the boats don't make the same amount of noise that the cars do.
Thanks to a very nice woman we met on the train who let us use her internet, we were able to make it to the general area of our hostel. This journey, however, was a bit tougher due to the fact that we had to lug the suitcases up and down several bridges. This only slightly detracted from the mystique of the sheer fact that we were surrounded by canals and gorgeous architecture unlike anything else we'd seen so far. After a bit of wandering....actually a lot of wandering...we cried uncle and whipped out the iPhone to call our hostel. That's when things got really good!
About five minutes later, a lanky, long haired gentleman arrived to rescue us, crying "Ashely?" pretending not to see three clearly confused American females a bit weary of lugging our bags. (I'm on a bridge was henceforth the battle cry in Venice) With a thick Italian inflection and pale skin, he of course reminded me of the Volturi - yes I know, forever the Twihard (for my mom and dad, a twihard is a fan of the twilight book series about vampires). Our personal vampire proceeded to take ashley's brokeback suitcase (the second one she'd broken this trip) and escort us to our hostel just around the corner. Of course we felt like idiots. Ca'riccio matched the vampire-esq atmosphere. Exposed brick, slanted ceilings and wooden planks supporting the just a bit too low ceiling made for a über Venezian atmosphere. I loved it! A great and affordable more guesthouse than hostel place to stay among the typically overpriced options in Venice.
We went around the corner to grab dinner, and unfortunately encountered food just a bit too authentic for our liking. The extremely strong seafood-y taste offended my taste buds a bit and I left less than satisfied and a bit irritated. What followed will be saved for another entry dedicated mostly to self reflection and acceptance.
The next morning, Meghan and I decided to wander. I was relinquishing control of the agenda completely and totally and felt relaxed for the first time. We wandered around the Rialto bridge shopping area, and boarded a vaporetto to head to St Marks square. We took photos, people watched, and enjoyed a very reasonable lunch - a gem in a city like Venice - complete with a boot of beer.
Feeling extremely relaxed, we headed to the Peggy Guggenheim museum up the street. I don't particularly care for modern art but I heard there was a Chagall there so of course I wanted to go!! Can we talk for a minute about our friend Peggy? She was a bit off. All 14 of her dogs with names like madam butterfly and capuccino (and I'm pretentious when it comes to dogs dad?) are buried in her garden and comemmorated on a marble plaque. None were pugs so of course I lost interest there fast. Next to the dog memorial there's a tree, where visitors write their wishes and put them on the tree. In my opinion this is likely related to the way that Peggy fulfilled the wishes not only of the artists but of the consumers of the art. I wished for God to watch over my mom as she begins radiation treatment for breast cancer next week. After some tears stemming from feeling like a neglectful daughter for being in Europe and not at home, we were off to explore the museum. She has some great pieces in addition to the Chagall - Dali, Picasso and the like, the majority with roots in war torn Europe. The museum itself is a gorgeous palazzo on the canal - amazing views! On the terrace on the canal she has a sculpture of a young boy, naked, on a horse, and it turns out his male parts used to be detachable, as Peggy would remove the male 'junk' as necessary whenever the Pope would be passing by. Bottom line? As I said, she's just a bit off, but as a major patron of the arts in a highly contentious part of history she played a valuable role.
Once we were done wandering the museum, it was back to the vaporetto to get lost on the little streets of Venice again. What a great way to enjoy the city! One thing I have noticed is the massive amounts of graffiti everywhere across France and Italy. Not sure if it is gang related or just teens messing around or a bit of both, but as a Baltimore resident if I am struck by the amount of graffiti, well, that says something. Food for thought. Then it was dinner at a much more enjoyable restaurant. Gnocchi and caprese salad was pretty much my diet in Italia, and this place did not disappoint. Alessandro, our server, was a lovebug - your typical Italian male - need I say more? After two bottles of wine, the three of us danced our way home, stopping for sangria en route.
On our last day of freedom before heading to Munich to get our learn on, we got our luggage in order (easier said than done) and headed to the Jewish ghetto in Venice. Here's some background on this important area:
Venice's relationship with its longtime Jewish community fluctuated over time from acceptance to tolerance, with attitudes often influenced by the fear that Jewish moneylenders and merchants would infiltrate other sectors of the republic's commerce under a government that thrived on secrecy and control.In 1516, 700 Jews were forced to move to a then-remote northwestern corner of Venice, to an abandoned site of a 14th-century foundry. The word "ghetto," soon used throughout Europe for isolated minority groups, originated in Venice: ghetto is old Venetian dialect for "foundry."
http://www.sacred-destinations.com/italy/venice-ghetto.htm)
When on March 29th, 1516 the Government of the Serenissima Repubblica issued special laws, the first Ghetto of Europe was instituted. It was an area where Jews were forced to live and which they could not leave from sunset to dawn. The area was closed by gates watched by guards and up till now the marks of the hinges are visible there. Jews were allowed to practice only some professions: they were doctors, because they were the most prepared and able to understand Arab writings, money lenders, because Catholic religion forbade this practice, merchants and "strazzarioli", ragsellers. The Ghetto existed for more than two and a half centuries, until Napoleon conquered Venice and finally opened and eliminated every gate (1797): Jews were finally free to live in other areas of the city. (http://www.ghetto.it/ghetto/en/contenuti.asp?padre=1&figlio=1)
We visited the museum there: Museo Communità Ebraica. We toured the synagogues that are not currently in use, and also got some firsthand accounts about changes that have occurred within the community over the years. A few things struck me about this neighborhood, most obviously the tranquility that characterized it. Other areas of Venice are all hustle and bustle tourist traps, but this area was quiet, serene, clean, and free of the aforementioned graffiti for the most part. After the museum, we had a delish kosher lunch at a cafe, relaxed in the quiet sunshine, and watched the kids as they came home from school and flooded the square with laughter and activity. What a refreshing change of pace!!! I mulled over the concept of ghetto that originated in this very spot. Originally the term was coined to describe an area where a population was unable to leave due to their differences with the majority population. Too often I characterize parts of Baltimore as ghetto, not realizing the deeply historic roots of this concept. How do todays ghettos differ from those of the 1500's? More importantly, how are they similar? Particularly, how are the members of todays ghettos trapped not unlike the members of ghettos past? What forces work to continue that cycle and how can the dysfunction be broken? We did some shopping at a store selling murano glass blown by the shops owner. She was a very kind old woman with soft eyes more than willing to talk our ear off about the community she had belonged to since childhood. I forget sometimes how much I value the Jewish culture as a whole - they are beautifully resilient. My best friend Jackie is a shining example of this.
Needing some time to process, it was back to the vaporetto. We rode ALL OVER THE PLACE, seeing Murano and Lido islands as well as the other side of the island that was primarily a modest residential area. Then we grabbed dinner on the canal and sold a small piece of our firstborn for a gondola ride. The mystic atmosphere of the canals at sunset were well worth it. Then we boarded a train bound for Munich - our first train where we slept in the sleeper cars. We'll skip the gory details and just leave readers with the picture of three very narrow beds attached to the wall less that 2 feet apart from one another along with three suitcases and a sink area in a 6x6 room......
Munich - here we come!!!
Thanks to a very nice woman we met on the train who let us use her internet, we were able to make it to the general area of our hostel. This journey, however, was a bit tougher due to the fact that we had to lug the suitcases up and down several bridges. This only slightly detracted from the mystique of the sheer fact that we were surrounded by canals and gorgeous architecture unlike anything else we'd seen so far. After a bit of wandering....actually a lot of wandering...we cried uncle and whipped out the iPhone to call our hostel. That's when things got really good!
About five minutes later, a lanky, long haired gentleman arrived to rescue us, crying "Ashely?" pretending not to see three clearly confused American females a bit weary of lugging our bags. (I'm on a bridge was henceforth the battle cry in Venice) With a thick Italian inflection and pale skin, he of course reminded me of the Volturi - yes I know, forever the Twihard (for my mom and dad, a twihard is a fan of the twilight book series about vampires). Our personal vampire proceeded to take ashley's brokeback suitcase (the second one she'd broken this trip) and escort us to our hostel just around the corner. Of course we felt like idiots. Ca'riccio matched the vampire-esq atmosphere. Exposed brick, slanted ceilings and wooden planks supporting the just a bit too low ceiling made for a über Venezian atmosphere. I loved it! A great and affordable more guesthouse than hostel place to stay among the typically overpriced options in Venice.
We went around the corner to grab dinner, and unfortunately encountered food just a bit too authentic for our liking. The extremely strong seafood-y taste offended my taste buds a bit and I left less than satisfied and a bit irritated. What followed will be saved for another entry dedicated mostly to self reflection and acceptance.
The next morning, Meghan and I decided to wander. I was relinquishing control of the agenda completely and totally and felt relaxed for the first time. We wandered around the Rialto bridge shopping area, and boarded a vaporetto to head to St Marks square. We took photos, people watched, and enjoyed a very reasonable lunch - a gem in a city like Venice - complete with a boot of beer.
Feeling extremely relaxed, we headed to the Peggy Guggenheim museum up the street. I don't particularly care for modern art but I heard there was a Chagall there so of course I wanted to go!! Can we talk for a minute about our friend Peggy? She was a bit off. All 14 of her dogs with names like madam butterfly and capuccino (and I'm pretentious when it comes to dogs dad?) are buried in her garden and comemmorated on a marble plaque. None were pugs so of course I lost interest there fast. Next to the dog memorial there's a tree, where visitors write their wishes and put them on the tree. In my opinion this is likely related to the way that Peggy fulfilled the wishes not only of the artists but of the consumers of the art. I wished for God to watch over my mom as she begins radiation treatment for breast cancer next week. After some tears stemming from feeling like a neglectful daughter for being in Europe and not at home, we were off to explore the museum. She has some great pieces in addition to the Chagall - Dali, Picasso and the like, the majority with roots in war torn Europe. The museum itself is a gorgeous palazzo on the canal - amazing views! On the terrace on the canal she has a sculpture of a young boy, naked, on a horse, and it turns out his male parts used to be detachable, as Peggy would remove the male 'junk' as necessary whenever the Pope would be passing by. Bottom line? As I said, she's just a bit off, but as a major patron of the arts in a highly contentious part of history she played a valuable role.
Once we were done wandering the museum, it was back to the vaporetto to get lost on the little streets of Venice again. What a great way to enjoy the city! One thing I have noticed is the massive amounts of graffiti everywhere across France and Italy. Not sure if it is gang related or just teens messing around or a bit of both, but as a Baltimore resident if I am struck by the amount of graffiti, well, that says something. Food for thought. Then it was dinner at a much more enjoyable restaurant. Gnocchi and caprese salad was pretty much my diet in Italia, and this place did not disappoint. Alessandro, our server, was a lovebug - your typical Italian male - need I say more? After two bottles of wine, the three of us danced our way home, stopping for sangria en route.
On our last day of freedom before heading to Munich to get our learn on, we got our luggage in order (easier said than done) and headed to the Jewish ghetto in Venice. Here's some background on this important area:
Venice's relationship with its longtime Jewish community fluctuated over time from acceptance to tolerance, with attitudes often influenced by the fear that Jewish moneylenders and merchants would infiltrate other sectors of the republic's commerce under a government that thrived on secrecy and control.In 1516, 700 Jews were forced to move to a then-remote northwestern corner of Venice, to an abandoned site of a 14th-century foundry. The word "ghetto," soon used throughout Europe for isolated minority groups, originated in Venice: ghetto is old Venetian dialect for "foundry."
http://www.sacred-destinations.com/italy/venice-ghetto.htm)
When on March 29th, 1516 the Government of the Serenissima Repubblica issued special laws, the first Ghetto of Europe was instituted. It was an area where Jews were forced to live and which they could not leave from sunset to dawn. The area was closed by gates watched by guards and up till now the marks of the hinges are visible there. Jews were allowed to practice only some professions: they were doctors, because they were the most prepared and able to understand Arab writings, money lenders, because Catholic religion forbade this practice, merchants and "strazzarioli", ragsellers. The Ghetto existed for more than two and a half centuries, until Napoleon conquered Venice and finally opened and eliminated every gate (1797): Jews were finally free to live in other areas of the city. (http://www.ghetto.it/ghetto/en/contenuti.asp?padre=1&figlio=1)
We visited the museum there: Museo Communità Ebraica. We toured the synagogues that are not currently in use, and also got some firsthand accounts about changes that have occurred within the community over the years. A few things struck me about this neighborhood, most obviously the tranquility that characterized it. Other areas of Venice are all hustle and bustle tourist traps, but this area was quiet, serene, clean, and free of the aforementioned graffiti for the most part. After the museum, we had a delish kosher lunch at a cafe, relaxed in the quiet sunshine, and watched the kids as they came home from school and flooded the square with laughter and activity. What a refreshing change of pace!!! I mulled over the concept of ghetto that originated in this very spot. Originally the term was coined to describe an area where a population was unable to leave due to their differences with the majority population. Too often I characterize parts of Baltimore as ghetto, not realizing the deeply historic roots of this concept. How do todays ghettos differ from those of the 1500's? More importantly, how are they similar? Particularly, how are the members of todays ghettos trapped not unlike the members of ghettos past? What forces work to continue that cycle and how can the dysfunction be broken? We did some shopping at a store selling murano glass blown by the shops owner. She was a very kind old woman with soft eyes more than willing to talk our ear off about the community she had belonged to since childhood. I forget sometimes how much I value the Jewish culture as a whole - they are beautifully resilient. My best friend Jackie is a shining example of this.
Needing some time to process, it was back to the vaporetto. We rode ALL OVER THE PLACE, seeing Murano and Lido islands as well as the other side of the island that was primarily a modest residential area. Then we grabbed dinner on the canal and sold a small piece of our firstborn for a gondola ride. The mystic atmosphere of the canals at sunset were well worth it. Then we boarded a train bound for Munich - our first train where we slept in the sleeper cars. We'll skip the gory details and just leave readers with the picture of three very narrow beds attached to the wall less that 2 feet apart from one another along with three suitcases and a sink area in a 6x6 room......
Munich - here we come!!!
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