Sunday, August 31, 2008
Kristin's vlog of Friday the 29th
So, as you can see clearly on the google calendar (that you don't use), one of our assignments was to make a video blog of one preassigned day. My day was last Friday, when we went to Sachsenhausen, the concentration camp in the greater Berlin area.
I'm really excited about this video. That doesn't necessarily mean I think I did a good job, but I'm definitely excited about it.
Der Lange Nacht der Museem...
A post made in the same city it happened in...OMG!
So, kind of funny. I kept asking people how much the Long Night at the Museum cost, and my classmates and instructors kept saying free, and I kept doubting it. So, for those of you who want to know, a student card was 10€ on the day of the event. (That's $15.) You know, if I hadn't just spent the last three weeks at museum after museum with the expectation of the next three weeks being full of museums, I simply wasn't thrilled. If everyone else put up the cash I might have gone, but I think it was just Rachel S who bothered.
Anne, Prano, Phil (for a while), Kareem, MinJeung, Wonkyung, Jackie, Rachel K, Levi and I all went to this art market next to it. It mostly consisted of stalls with a bunch of paintings and even more prints. Practically all of them were good. I don't know if I saw more than three stalls that I didn't want a painting from. They also had some food, soap, lots of jewelry, wooden carvings, glassware and stuff, but most of it was in fact paintings. Possibly my favorite was this artist that did dozens of paintings with an ultrablue sky, ultragreen (several colors of bright green, in fact) grass, and a farm animal dropped onto the landscape like an imprecise photoshopper. Most of them were the classic Holstein cows, but there were a few sheep and pigs. Most seemed to be silkscreened paintings of Berlin, and these were basically gorgeous. I bought a card with a fox in socks, a postcard of a colorful fish, a postcard with a purple cat, and an old metal cup that I intend to use as a vase. (This made it an expensive day, as I bought a pair of earrings and a video earlier.)
After that, we sat on the museum steps and listened to the bands. It was a really great atmosphere, along the same lines as sitting in Seattle drinking coffee, but it was outdoors and a beautiful night. I bought a crepe with chocolate sauce. ^.^
So, kind of funny. I kept asking people how much the Long Night at the Museum cost, and my classmates and instructors kept saying free, and I kept doubting it. So, for those of you who want to know, a student card was 10€ on the day of the event. (That's $15.) You know, if I hadn't just spent the last three weeks at museum after museum with the expectation of the next three weeks being full of museums, I simply wasn't thrilled. If everyone else put up the cash I might have gone, but I think it was just Rachel S who bothered.
Anne, Prano, Phil (for a while), Kareem, MinJeung, Wonkyung, Jackie, Rachel K, Levi and I all went to this art market next to it. It mostly consisted of stalls with a bunch of paintings and even more prints. Practically all of them were good. I don't know if I saw more than three stalls that I didn't want a painting from. They also had some food, soap, lots of jewelry, wooden carvings, glassware and stuff, but most of it was in fact paintings. Possibly my favorite was this artist that did dozens of paintings with an ultrablue sky, ultragreen (several colors of bright green, in fact) grass, and a farm animal dropped onto the landscape like an imprecise photoshopper. Most of them were the classic Holstein cows, but there were a few sheep and pigs. Most seemed to be silkscreened paintings of Berlin, and these were basically gorgeous. I bought a card with a fox in socks, a postcard of a colorful fish, a postcard with a purple cat, and an old metal cup that I intend to use as a vase. (This made it an expensive day, as I bought a pair of earrings and a video earlier.)
After that, we sat on the museum steps and listened to the bands. It was a really great atmosphere, along the same lines as sitting in Seattle drinking coffee, but it was outdoors and a beautiful night. I bought a crepe with chocolate sauce. ^.^
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Frankfurt
There is really nothing to see in Frankfurt, and I think I rather dislike the place. It was one of Mary Grace’s must-sees, however, because one of only seven Baha’i houses of worship, das Haus der Andacht, was built in a small town nearby. MG, ever a devoted fanatic of religion and religious interaction, wanted to go to their Sunday service. So, we arrived in Frankfurt in the early afternoon on Saturday, and started following the directions from the train station to our hostel.
They were actually fairly well-written, compared to our hostel directions in other towns. So, when every turn and every block started looking creepier, it was rather discouraging. There were sex toy stores, strip joints, women who must have been professionals, and porn places. It must have been 15.00, 3:00 in the afternoon, and there were already icky men giving us ugly looks. We must have looked like the beginning, fully-dressed stage of some school-girl-fetish act. MG was even wearing her adorable fluffy blue skirt, knee-length, the exact opposite of exposing clothing. I believe I was wearing my loose, knee-length green shorts. We did not blend in.
We found our hostel just across the street and down a little ways from, of all things, a Mexican strip joint. We checked in. Inside, it was alright. The paint was bright, the colors eccentrically charming. The locks were odd, and our roommate had to let us in, even though we had the one key to the room. He was an Italian, working for Nintendo, and trying to find an actual apartment in Frankfurt. He had a good sense of humor. After introductions, he said, “So, you found a really nice neighborhood to stay in. ‘Bitches’ over there, ‘broads’ over there.” We had a good laugh, but I was feeling ill, and went to bed.
Mary Grace, meanwhile, was trying to find a Catholic church with a Saturday night mass. I curled up in bed with a mystery novel, fell asleep, and she was back when I woke up. She had gotten a little lost coming home, but whenever she started to see the sketchy part of town, she walked toward it, and eventually found her way to the hostel.
We both immediately dismissed going outside for a look around. It was probably 7:00, and the creeps had multiplied. We probably could have stood the 7:00 guys for the sake of adventure, but the thought of who would be standing around when we returned was just too much. She curled up in her bottom bunk, me in my top bunk, and we both fell asleep early again. Mostly. The pounding stripper music wouldn’t stop.
We both woke up some time around 5.00. The music was still on. We had a new roommate that had arrive at some point while I was asleep; another short-haired girl took up the fourth bed. Trying not to wake her or the Italian, I tiptoed to the door, but was unable to open it. I’d opened it from the inside the afternoon before. We only had one room key, so as long as I was in, it was my job to open the door. This time, though, it wouldn’t budge. I went back to my bunk, disheartened, and slightly ashamed.
Eventually, I realized MG was as wide awake as I was, and she realized I was awake, so we both compared notes. By that point, we’d each tried the door at least twice. We didn’t just go up and jiggle the handle, we turned, pushed, pulled, played with the bizarre lock in every way possible. And yet, the fact remained, we were inside, and the bathroom was outside. We sat there, mostly in silence. I continued reading Justice Denied. Every twenty minutes or so, one of us would try the door again. The booming stripper music remained. By about 6.30, I was getting strangely paranoid that someone had locked or jammed or superglued the door closed, and we were meant to suffer in cruel bathroomless silence. It was probably lucky at that point that I was so extremely dehydrated, but I can’t imagine it had any good effect on my mood. MG had ventured out to buy döner kebabs before her church trip the night before, but I was just too ill to eat more than a third of mine. Other than that extravagant breakfast, that was what I had that day.
Döner kebabs, by the way, are a ubiquitous Turkish sandwich you can find almost anywhere in Germany. (They were sadly absent in Italy and Switzerland.) They are cheap, and extremely tasty, and it seems like the staff is usually friendly. The meat is a giant chunk of something (maybe lamb?) that rotates on a vertical spit next to a heat source. The purveyor shaves off the toasty warm bits, and they are placed in a toasted sort of flat bread / pita bread. The sauce is either a yogurt sauce or a spicy chili sauce, sometimes garlic. They generally have some sort of lettuce or cabbage with tomato and zucchini slices. They are noticeably different, but they always remind me of the gyros everywhere on The Ave. My sister, Kari, raves about the silly things.
Some time shortly before 7.00, our new female roommate woke up. We explained we’d been having difficulties with our door, though I don’t think it was wise to say exactly how much trouble it was. She got up, fiddled with it, and the door opened easily. MG and I thanked her, and nonchalantly walked out to use the WCs. (They always seem to be called WCs, even in languages where it can’t possibly stand for anything.)
We started talking to the girl. She was from Milwaukee, and hadn’t slept a wink. My bed was decent, though the frame creaked ominously every time I got up or down, and probably if I rolled over very vigorously. She had what appeared to be a fold-up rollaway, but instead of one foldable mattress, it had two small ones. This left the metal bar in the middle completely exposed and manifestly uncomfortable. Additionally, without my extreme exhaustion/sickness/pain, the stripper music made it hard to sleep. They finally cut it out at 7.00. The Italian slept through all of this, and gave us that “Do you really have to be talking? I won’t complain, but do you really have to be talking?” look from his bed, before rolling over.
MG and I went out at that point to find some breakfast. She’d eaten all of her döner, but was also really hungry. We finally found a bakery in the train station (bakeries: another thing everywhere in Germany), and got a little bit of baked stuff. The street was almost bearable at 7.30 in the morning. After that, we sat grimly in our bunks until it was time to go catch the S-Bahn to Hofheim. We stored our luggage in the lockers at the train station, unwilling to go back to that hostel. Even at 10.00 or so, the creeps were back, and the walk to the station was unpleasant.
After catching the S-Bahn, we sat in Hofheim not really sure what to do. MG had directions from das Haus der Andacht’s site, but the bus it recommended didn’t run Sundays. (Nothing is ever open in Germany on Sundays.) There was supposed to be a taxi-shuttle that was cheaper than an actual taxi, but the directions didn’t say when it came. We asked, and we had almost an hour to wait. Eventually, after moving twice, taking pictures of the quaint little town, and reading, we caught the “taxi shuttle,” which just seemed to be a taxi, and went off to Langenheim. The taxi driver was crazy, as usual, so it was a very short trip.
There, we stepped into the visitor’s center, and were promptly offered tea by a very nice staff woman. Even I accepted, and she put everything on a nice little tea tray and led us up to a seat in the bookstore. MG went nuts, I sat and drank my tea (with sugar, sorry Kay). The books looked interesting, but tasted of research and long nights preparing for class. I didn’t buy anything, but MG collected two prayer bead sets, a card with the Arabic for the Baha’i’s major saying on it, and a book of their prayers. I picked up two very basic pamphlets on the Baha’i faith and the construction of the House of Worship.
The Baha’i faith is based on the idea that we are all one, and should probably start acting like it. For different cultures and times, God has revealed Himself in different ways, so during their services they read from the books of other religions. The House of Worship was built as the central one for all of Europe.
We went outside for a walk through the gardens, which were very sad this time of year, took some photos, and sat on some benches with trees around them. The wind was up, and I could probably have sat listening to it for longer, but we were both getting cold, so we went back into the visitors’ center, and had more tea while chatting about high school classes.
Close to 3.00, we walked up the driveway to the main building. The service was a blend of signing and reading. The singing was mindblowing. I don’t really know how to describe it, just, it was astonishing. MG claims there are videos of it on YouTube, so you can probably look that up if you wish. When I get back to regular internet, I will. The prayers were Baha’i, Torah, and New Testament. I hadn’t intended to record the signing, but I wished I’d asked in the visitors’ center if it was appropriate, because I haven’t wanted to record anything else quite that badly this trip.
Half an hour later, MG and I failed to catch a taxi. It still isn’t clear whether we waited in the wrong spot, or if it was late enough that it came after we gave up on it, or if it never came at all. The nice lady at the visitors’ center called the taxi company and gave them some very sharp comments on their service, and was going to call us a taxi when a family from Lichtenstein that was driving through Hofheim offered us a ride. A family, father, mother and teenage daughter, seemed safe enough, so we piled into the minivan. We held up a decent conversation with the mother and somewhat the daughter. The mother’s name was Trudi, and she said it was funny she ran into us because she had been thinking about Seattle just that morning. The daughter’s name was something like Sarah, and was starting on a year of community service. (She wasn’t in trouble; a year of service is a Baha’i thing.)
Click here to see the whole photo album.
They were actually fairly well-written, compared to our hostel directions in other towns. So, when every turn and every block started looking creepier, it was rather discouraging. There were sex toy stores, strip joints, women who must have been professionals, and porn places. It must have been 15.00, 3:00 in the afternoon, and there were already icky men giving us ugly looks. We must have looked like the beginning, fully-dressed stage of some school-girl-fetish act. MG was even wearing her adorable fluffy blue skirt, knee-length, the exact opposite of exposing clothing. I believe I was wearing my loose, knee-length green shorts. We did not blend in.
We found our hostel just across the street and down a little ways from, of all things, a Mexican strip joint. We checked in. Inside, it was alright. The paint was bright, the colors eccentrically charming. The locks were odd, and our roommate had to let us in, even though we had the one key to the room. He was an Italian, working for Nintendo, and trying to find an actual apartment in Frankfurt. He had a good sense of humor. After introductions, he said, “So, you found a really nice neighborhood to stay in. ‘Bitches’ over there, ‘broads’ over there.” We had a good laugh, but I was feeling ill, and went to bed.
Mary Grace, meanwhile, was trying to find a Catholic church with a Saturday night mass. I curled up in bed with a mystery novel, fell asleep, and she was back when I woke up. She had gotten a little lost coming home, but whenever she started to see the sketchy part of town, she walked toward it, and eventually found her way to the hostel.
We both immediately dismissed going outside for a look around. It was probably 7:00, and the creeps had multiplied. We probably could have stood the 7:00 guys for the sake of adventure, but the thought of who would be standing around when we returned was just too much. She curled up in her bottom bunk, me in my top bunk, and we both fell asleep early again. Mostly. The pounding stripper music wouldn’t stop.
We both woke up some time around 5.00. The music was still on. We had a new roommate that had arrive at some point while I was asleep; another short-haired girl took up the fourth bed. Trying not to wake her or the Italian, I tiptoed to the door, but was unable to open it. I’d opened it from the inside the afternoon before. We only had one room key, so as long as I was in, it was my job to open the door. This time, though, it wouldn’t budge. I went back to my bunk, disheartened, and slightly ashamed.
Eventually, I realized MG was as wide awake as I was, and she realized I was awake, so we both compared notes. By that point, we’d each tried the door at least twice. We didn’t just go up and jiggle the handle, we turned, pushed, pulled, played with the bizarre lock in every way possible. And yet, the fact remained, we were inside, and the bathroom was outside. We sat there, mostly in silence. I continued reading Justice Denied. Every twenty minutes or so, one of us would try the door again. The booming stripper music remained. By about 6.30, I was getting strangely paranoid that someone had locked or jammed or superglued the door closed, and we were meant to suffer in cruel bathroomless silence. It was probably lucky at that point that I was so extremely dehydrated, but I can’t imagine it had any good effect on my mood. MG had ventured out to buy döner kebabs before her church trip the night before, but I was just too ill to eat more than a third of mine. Other than that extravagant breakfast, that was what I had that day.
Döner kebabs, by the way, are a ubiquitous Turkish sandwich you can find almost anywhere in Germany. (They were sadly absent in Italy and Switzerland.) They are cheap, and extremely tasty, and it seems like the staff is usually friendly. The meat is a giant chunk of something (maybe lamb?) that rotates on a vertical spit next to a heat source. The purveyor shaves off the toasty warm bits, and they are placed in a toasted sort of flat bread / pita bread. The sauce is either a yogurt sauce or a spicy chili sauce, sometimes garlic. They generally have some sort of lettuce or cabbage with tomato and zucchini slices. They are noticeably different, but they always remind me of the gyros everywhere on The Ave. My sister, Kari, raves about the silly things.
Some time shortly before 7.00, our new female roommate woke up. We explained we’d been having difficulties with our door, though I don’t think it was wise to say exactly how much trouble it was. She got up, fiddled with it, and the door opened easily. MG and I thanked her, and nonchalantly walked out to use the WCs. (They always seem to be called WCs, even in languages where it can’t possibly stand for anything.)
We started talking to the girl. She was from Milwaukee, and hadn’t slept a wink. My bed was decent, though the frame creaked ominously every time I got up or down, and probably if I rolled over very vigorously. She had what appeared to be a fold-up rollaway, but instead of one foldable mattress, it had two small ones. This left the metal bar in the middle completely exposed and manifestly uncomfortable. Additionally, without my extreme exhaustion/sickness/pain, the stripper music made it hard to sleep. They finally cut it out at 7.00. The Italian slept through all of this, and gave us that “Do you really have to be talking? I won’t complain, but do you really have to be talking?” look from his bed, before rolling over.
MG and I went out at that point to find some breakfast. She’d eaten all of her döner, but was also really hungry. We finally found a bakery in the train station (bakeries: another thing everywhere in Germany), and got a little bit of baked stuff. The street was almost bearable at 7.30 in the morning. After that, we sat grimly in our bunks until it was time to go catch the S-Bahn to Hofheim. We stored our luggage in the lockers at the train station, unwilling to go back to that hostel. Even at 10.00 or so, the creeps were back, and the walk to the station was unpleasant.
After catching the S-Bahn, we sat in Hofheim not really sure what to do. MG had directions from das Haus der Andacht’s site, but the bus it recommended didn’t run Sundays. (Nothing is ever open in Germany on Sundays.) There was supposed to be a taxi-shuttle that was cheaper than an actual taxi, but the directions didn’t say when it came. We asked, and we had almost an hour to wait. Eventually, after moving twice, taking pictures of the quaint little town, and reading, we caught the “taxi shuttle,” which just seemed to be a taxi, and went off to Langenheim. The taxi driver was crazy, as usual, so it was a very short trip.
There, we stepped into the visitor’s center, and were promptly offered tea by a very nice staff woman. Even I accepted, and she put everything on a nice little tea tray and led us up to a seat in the bookstore. MG went nuts, I sat and drank my tea (with sugar, sorry Kay). The books looked interesting, but tasted of research and long nights preparing for class. I didn’t buy anything, but MG collected two prayer bead sets, a card with the Arabic for the Baha’i’s major saying on it, and a book of their prayers. I picked up two very basic pamphlets on the Baha’i faith and the construction of the House of Worship.
The Baha’i faith is based on the idea that we are all one, and should probably start acting like it. For different cultures and times, God has revealed Himself in different ways, so during their services they read from the books of other religions. The House of Worship was built as the central one for all of Europe.
We went outside for a walk through the gardens, which were very sad this time of year, took some photos, and sat on some benches with trees around them. The wind was up, and I could probably have sat listening to it for longer, but we were both getting cold, so we went back into the visitors’ center, and had more tea while chatting about high school classes.
Close to 3.00, we walked up the driveway to the main building. The service was a blend of signing and reading. The singing was mindblowing. I don’t really know how to describe it, just, it was astonishing. MG claims there are videos of it on YouTube, so you can probably look that up if you wish. When I get back to regular internet, I will. The prayers were Baha’i, Torah, and New Testament. I hadn’t intended to record the signing, but I wished I’d asked in the visitors’ center if it was appropriate, because I haven’t wanted to record anything else quite that badly this trip.
Half an hour later, MG and I failed to catch a taxi. It still isn’t clear whether we waited in the wrong spot, or if it was late enough that it came after we gave up on it, or if it never came at all. The nice lady at the visitors’ center called the taxi company and gave them some very sharp comments on their service, and was going to call us a taxi when a family from Lichtenstein that was driving through Hofheim offered us a ride. A family, father, mother and teenage daughter, seemed safe enough, so we piled into the minivan. We held up a decent conversation with the mother and somewhat the daughter. The mother’s name was Trudi, and she said it was funny she ran into us because she had been thinking about Seattle just that morning. The daughter’s name was something like Sarah, and was starting on a year of community service. (She wasn’t in trouble; a year of service is a Baha’i thing.)
Click here to see the whole photo album.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
München - this is where my blog starts to be difficult to load
We didn't really spend that much time in München, to be honest, and much of that time was trying to recover from exhaustion. It was a very pretty European city, replete with older buildings and newer ones, narrow streets in places, and such.
Eventually, without dying, we touched down at the München airport. We took the S-Bahn (a rapid subway train) to the Hauptbahnhof, the main train station. Our hostel was located conveniently nearby, and as soon as we found it, we actually agreed it was convenient. We couldn’t check in for a few hours, but we left our suitcases in a tiny luggage closet and went for a walk around München.
Our S-Bahn pass was good for the day, so we took a quick train down to Marionplatz to get a good look at the Frauenkirche. Marionplatz, named for the Virgin Mary, the Frauenkirche meaning Church of our Lady. München's Frauenkirche was built during the 15th Century and renovated since WWII damaged the structure. The façade was under a little bit of construction, but we got photos of the inside and the good part of the outside. We went to H&M, a giant department store, and I bought a replacement messenger bag. It’s a dark gray, with leather details that make it look a little like it’s staring at you.
Eventually we went back to our hostel and checked in. Our room was a cute little 8 or 10 bed dorm, but each person got their own wooden locker, and the beds were comfortable.
The next order of business was to head down to the Munich HBF (Hauptbahnhof, central train station) to make reservations for trains we were worried about. The ticket guy we were talking to was not the most skilled in English, but was extremely serious about getting us the right trains, and making sure we had the times we definitely liked best. It took us about an hour and a half to arrange eight days worth of trains in a satisfactory way, and by the time we stumbled home, we were exhausted.
Intending to take a nap, we woke up eleven hours later at about 4 in the morning local time. American time zones tend to make American travelers stay up late and have problems getting up in the morning, but with maybe four hours of restless sleep at Mary Grace’s house, restless napping in an airplane, and nothing else, we accidentally set ourselves to something more like Russian time or Australian time. We got on the hostel computers for twenty minutes or so, just enough time to send Mom and Dad and Kari emails about the seat belt, and about a German man who mistook me for another German and kept trying to ask me directions.
This hostel had a good free breakfast, so we filled up with fruit salad, coffee, juice, rolls, honey, salami, cereal, yogurt, and/or cheese at 7.00, and went for a walk through gardens and town squares. We got back around 10.00, and filled up on fruit salad, coffee, juice, rolls, honey, salami, cereal, yogurt, and/or cheese, and wrapped up a couple rolls to go before heading off to Frankfurt.
Click here for the whole photo album.
Eventually, without dying, we touched down at the München airport. We took the S-Bahn (a rapid subway train) to the Hauptbahnhof, the main train station. Our hostel was located conveniently nearby, and as soon as we found it, we actually agreed it was convenient. We couldn’t check in for a few hours, but we left our suitcases in a tiny luggage closet and went for a walk around München.
Our S-Bahn pass was good for the day, so we took a quick train down to Marionplatz to get a good look at the Frauenkirche. Marionplatz, named for the Virgin Mary, the Frauenkirche meaning Church of our Lady. München's Frauenkirche was built during the 15th Century and renovated since WWII damaged the structure. The façade was under a little bit of construction, but we got photos of the inside and the good part of the outside. We went to H&M, a giant department store, and I bought a replacement messenger bag. It’s a dark gray, with leather details that make it look a little like it’s staring at you.
Eventually we went back to our hostel and checked in. Our room was a cute little 8 or 10 bed dorm, but each person got their own wooden locker, and the beds were comfortable.
The next order of business was to head down to the Munich HBF (Hauptbahnhof, central train station) to make reservations for trains we were worried about. The ticket guy we were talking to was not the most skilled in English, but was extremely serious about getting us the right trains, and making sure we had the times we definitely liked best. It took us about an hour and a half to arrange eight days worth of trains in a satisfactory way, and by the time we stumbled home, we were exhausted.
Intending to take a nap, we woke up eleven hours later at about 4 in the morning local time. American time zones tend to make American travelers stay up late and have problems getting up in the morning, but with maybe four hours of restless sleep at Mary Grace’s house, restless napping in an airplane, and nothing else, we accidentally set ourselves to something more like Russian time or Australian time. We got on the hostel computers for twenty minutes or so, just enough time to send Mom and Dad and Kari emails about the seat belt, and about a German man who mistook me for another German and kept trying to ask me directions.
This hostel had a good free breakfast, so we filled up with fruit salad, coffee, juice, rolls, honey, salami, cereal, yogurt, and/or cheese at 7.00, and went for a walk through gardens and town squares. We got back around 10.00, and filled up on fruit salad, coffee, juice, rolls, honey, salami, cereal, yogurt, and/or cheese, and wrapped up a couple rolls to go before heading off to Frankfurt.
Click here for the whole photo album.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Planes
So, we left Seattle at about 6 in the morning. I don’t remember much of Seattle-Philly, except that I was between two strangers and I curled up on top of my fold-down tray and tried not to think of Fight Club.
The second flight was less pleasant, despite the better seating. MG and I actually got a seat together, but after napping for the first flight, I was unable to sleep for the second. I’d borrowed my sister’s green messenger bag for the trip, and ten feet from the plane, the strap broke. So, I was sitting there fuming. Every time I tried to get something out of the bag, the strap would flap into the aisle and demand that I move it.
The really memorable part of the flight was vaguely horrifying. I’d dropped my pencil or deck of cards or book or something. I bent over to get it, and felt the seatbelt pop. I looked down to the buckle, and it was still attached. Um? With the gentle strain of a bending summer-fattened Kristin, the seatbelt came loose from the seat.
I was sitting there freaking out. The airlines insist we wear seatbelts. Obviously they keep us from just falling over during turbulence, but the absolute “SEATBELT SIGN ON” thing always left the impression that it could help during a bad landing, or even a small crash. Maybe the jet would miss the end of the runway, and run smack into a building, and those obedient few would crawl out saying, “Wow, I’m sure glad I was wearing my seatbelt. I could have really been hurt,” and those who shunned the Seatbelt light would be sitting there, freaking dead.
I pushed the flight attendant button, and one of those really stereotypical overly-made-up middle aged women arrived. I just held up my seatbelt. She gave me this really bored look, and told me to stand up. She picked up the seat cushion, and started trying to snap the belt into place. She couldn’t quite get it, but another flight attendant snapped it in right away.
So, some conclusions could be drawn from this.
1. No one was worried, SO
2. This must happen all the time, SO
3. It is not just my random bad luck, SO
4. There are a number of faulty seatbelts everywhere that will give out with a few pounds of pressure, SO
5. These seatbelts have little to do with our safety, SO
6. Why do the airplane people keep telling us, fasten your seatbelts, keep your seatbelts fastened, when they see this enough to look bored?
7. Also, I’m a little bit paranoid.
I was tempted to just leave the stupid thing unbuckled for the rest of the flight, but...I buckled it every time anyway. I just wasn’t happy about it. Back to Fight Club, anyone? (I really need to stop watching that so much. Brad Pitt’s character asserts that the oxygen masks are just there to give us an oxygen high, to make us more cooperative. But like I said, Brad Pitt.)
The second flight was less pleasant, despite the better seating. MG and I actually got a seat together, but after napping for the first flight, I was unable to sleep for the second. I’d borrowed my sister’s green messenger bag for the trip, and ten feet from the plane, the strap broke. So, I was sitting there fuming. Every time I tried to get something out of the bag, the strap would flap into the aisle and demand that I move it.
The really memorable part of the flight was vaguely horrifying. I’d dropped my pencil or deck of cards or book or something. I bent over to get it, and felt the seatbelt pop. I looked down to the buckle, and it was still attached. Um? With the gentle strain of a bending summer-fattened Kristin, the seatbelt came loose from the seat.
I was sitting there freaking out. The airlines insist we wear seatbelts. Obviously they keep us from just falling over during turbulence, but the absolute “SEATBELT SIGN ON” thing always left the impression that it could help during a bad landing, or even a small crash. Maybe the jet would miss the end of the runway, and run smack into a building, and those obedient few would crawl out saying, “Wow, I’m sure glad I was wearing my seatbelt. I could have really been hurt,” and those who shunned the Seatbelt light would be sitting there, freaking dead.
I pushed the flight attendant button, and one of those really stereotypical overly-made-up middle aged women arrived. I just held up my seatbelt. She gave me this really bored look, and told me to stand up. She picked up the seat cushion, and started trying to snap the belt into place. She couldn’t quite get it, but another flight attendant snapped it in right away.
So, some conclusions could be drawn from this.
1. No one was worried, SO
2. This must happen all the time, SO
3. It is not just my random bad luck, SO
4. There are a number of faulty seatbelts everywhere that will give out with a few pounds of pressure, SO
5. These seatbelts have little to do with our safety, SO
6. Why do the airplane people keep telling us, fasten your seatbelts, keep your seatbelts fastened, when they see this enough to look bored?
7. Also, I’m a little bit paranoid.
I was tempted to just leave the stupid thing unbuckled for the rest of the flight, but...I buckled it every time anyway. I just wasn’t happy about it. Back to Fight Club, anyone? (I really need to stop watching that so much. Brad Pitt’s character asserts that the oxygen masks are just there to give us an oxygen high, to make us more cooperative. But like I said, Brad Pitt.)
Sunday, August 24, 2008
I am angry.
Remember how I kept saying I'd fill you in when I got to Berlin?
Julie said said said we'd have internet. Maybe not in every apartment, but we'd have a wifi spot in the building. Sooooo guess what? Kein internets!
I am currently sitting in a cafe a decent walk from our apartments, because its internet is free. (You are still obliged to order something, and it is not cheap.)
I am pissed. Everyone I've talked to is pissed. I could pretty much kill at this point. If Julie had actually, you know, come through, I probably would be up to Switzerland in my story by now. As it is, this blog seems incessantly useless, because I am not carrying my widescreen laptop through Kreuzberg every day. I may be able to type something beforehand and then do one big post in a week or so.
I don't think I can even afford to update my HOMEWORK blog. That's what at least Rachel is telling Julie, and I plan to do the same. I'm not paying for these expensive little cafe thingies when I have good, cheap food in the apartment. We paid good money for these apartments, this program, and we expect internet, particularly because the program demands we BLOG everything.
I shall try not to explode.
Julie said said said we'd have internet. Maybe not in every apartment, but we'd have a wifi spot in the building. Sooooo guess what? Kein internets!
I am currently sitting in a cafe a decent walk from our apartments, because its internet is free. (You are still obliged to order something, and it is not cheap.)
I am pissed. Everyone I've talked to is pissed. I could pretty much kill at this point. If Julie had actually, you know, come through, I probably would be up to Switzerland in my story by now. As it is, this blog seems incessantly useless, because I am not carrying my widescreen laptop through Kreuzberg every day. I may be able to type something beforehand and then do one big post in a week or so.
I don't think I can even afford to update my HOMEWORK blog. That's what at least Rachel is telling Julie, and I plan to do the same. I'm not paying for these expensive little cafe thingies when I have good, cheap food in the apartment. We paid good money for these apartments, this program, and we expect internet, particularly because the program demands we BLOG everything.
I shall try not to explode.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Don't worry, less than a week until I have time to do an extended entry.
There are people waiting for the computers, and a 30 minute limit. Let me say that Roma has been fabulous, and I can't wait to upload my pictures and show everyone.
Forgive me, but I have no time to spellcheck these...
We've been to:
the Colloseum
Palantine hill
the Roman Forum
Piazza Popola
Piazza Navona
Piazza Spagna, including the Spanish Steps
St. Peter's, including the Dome and the Crypts
the Vatican Museum, including the Sistine Chapel
the Pantheon
the Fountain of Trevi
a number of smaller churches and fountains and stuff
And, well, they were amazing. I have ten minutes left, so, yes, description later.
Buongiorno! Non posso mangiare i frutti di mare. Arrivederci!
Forgive me, but I have no time to spellcheck these...
We've been to:
the Colloseum
Palantine hill
the Roman Forum
Piazza Popola
Piazza Navona
Piazza Spagna, including the Spanish Steps
St. Peter's, including the Dome and the Crypts
the Vatican Museum, including the Sistine Chapel
the Pantheon
the Fountain of Trevi
a number of smaller churches and fountains and stuff
And, well, they were amazing. I have ten minutes left, so, yes, description later.
Buongiorno! Non posso mangiare i frutti di mare. Arrivederci!
Friday, August 15, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
So, I'm in Napoli!
Wow. It is really astonishing how hard it is to get around without Italian. Ah well. We haven't really done anything besides get to the hostel yet. I'm waiting for MG to get ready, then I think the plan is going to a flea market? I have a novel-length account of my exploits in a notebook (I had to do something on the train), and I'll probably transcribe abrdiged sections to this once I get to Berlin. It feels weird trying to write anything until then.
Luzern has been my favorite so far. I did not expect to be so moved by the lion, and I can't be sure it wasn't partially because I hadn't slept in over 30 hours, but it was amazing.
Just in general though? The Swiss landscape, the old stone buildings, the beautiful mountain lake...all perfectly amazing.
The train ride through the Alps was also pretty impressive. We only wrote in our journals while we were in tunnels, and spent the rest of the time looking around. There were all these incredibly adorable little towns! In parts, the mountains were clear, in others there was mist exactly like my last hike. Then we started playing cards with a couple of guys from Holland, which is another story entirely.
So far? Italy is just plain hot.
Luzern has been my favorite so far. I did not expect to be so moved by the lion, and I can't be sure it wasn't partially because I hadn't slept in over 30 hours, but it was amazing.
Just in general though? The Swiss landscape, the old stone buildings, the beautiful mountain lake...all perfectly amazing.
The train ride through the Alps was also pretty impressive. We only wrote in our journals while we were in tunnels, and spent the rest of the time looking around. There were all these incredibly adorable little towns! In parts, the mountains were clear, in others there was mist exactly like my last hike. Then we started playing cards with a couple of guys from Holland, which is another story entirely.
So far? Italy is just plain hot.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Well, I'm in Switzerland.
Do trips ever go exactly as planned?
Our time in München was gorgeous, our time in Frankfurt sucked beyond belief. Don't stay at EasyBed24! Don't do it! Humorous tales to follow when I have more than 8 minutes and a non-satanic keyboard. Suffice it to say I haven't slept in 35 hours, missed a train, and am a little bit out of it.
Luzern is gorgeous!
Our time in München was gorgeous, our time in Frankfurt sucked beyond belief. Don't stay at EasyBed24! Don't do it! Humorous tales to follow when I have more than 8 minutes and a non-satanic keyboard. Suffice it to say I haven't slept in 35 hours, missed a train, and am a little bit out of it.
Luzern is gorgeous!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
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