Thursday dawned delightfully bright and sunny as our overnight train pulled into Moscow around 8am. We went straight to Red Square from the train station, without so much as a stop for breakfast, or even a bathroom.
Fortunately, Red Square was one of my favorite points on the trip. We got a full 360-degree view of St. Basel's Cathedral (the other one with the candied onion domes, the one you're thinking of), a head-on shot of Lenin's mausoleum (inconveniently but temporarily closed to visitors), and a look at a smaller cathedral, inside and out. With the latter, services were ongoing, which made the visit of course doubly interesting.
Russian Orthodox services are unlike any church (or, for that matter, synagogue) service I've ever been to. The priests stand chanting in the front, facing a wall that separates the main room from the holy-of-holies in the back. People wander in and out, crossing themselves and lighting candles for the sick and deceased, saying what I guess is the equivalent of "And let us say, Amen." There aren't any seats, either. I had too little understanding of all this to quite get caught up in it, but I could definitely see the appeal. We also went into a bigger (though inactive) cathedral to wander around. It had Hebrew on the ceiling (!)-- according to Jon, this isn't a normal thing, but in that case it's part of the Church's claim to be the older, purer form of Christianity.
After this, we finally got brunch, followed by hotel check-in. We were given a few hours before dinner; I'd meant to do something with them but somehow, like just about everyone else, ended up collapsing in the form of a nap. Two and a half weeks on the road finished catching up with me!
Much more awake, I joined the rest of the group downstairs around 5:30 to meet a group of Russian students in the lobby. I was grouped with three other Americans and three Russians (two our age, Vavara and Phil, and one sixteen-year-old, the lip-smacking, Beatles-loving Ina) for the evening. We took a very long subway ride from the hotel to the Moscow State University area, where we made a shopping trip for pasta, salad supplies, and the like, and ended up back at Vavara's family's apartment to make dinner. Let it be noted here that I helped! I even steamed a significant amount of vegetables for the group.
Dinner was fun enough-- definitely worthwhile and interesting, if not life-changing. I grilled Vavara about the recent election after she'd expressed some surprise and confusion over the fact that we didn't know who was going to win the U.S. election in November (though I really wish I did, apparently only Pat Robertson has that knowledge). She'd voted for one of the opposition candidates, knowing full well what difference it would make, in a vaguely idealistic hope that it would actually make a difference. But as Medvedev has won, as more-than-predicted, she was okay with that. I couldn't quite believe that attitude.
The next morning, fortunately, we got a bit more insight into the Russian political scene. A leader from an opposition party that shall remain nameless, apparently, spent the hour or so we were given between breakfast and lunch explaining his take on things to us. He compared the state political system to Nigeria's, for instance, which caught us all by surprise. I asked him a few questions over tea and kvas (traditional rye bread-based surprisingly non-alcoholic drink) and learned that the Russian blogosphere is surprisingly open and uncensored unlike, say China's. I gathered, through Jon's translating, that many people are afraid of changes because of the potential for something worse (from within or without) to come. People who know better get nervous about persecution, apparently. And Putin, for all of his problematic characteristics from many perspectives, has done some good for Russia-- as well as being pretty effective in terms of consolidating and holding power.
Friday afternoon began with a guided tour of the Kremlin. This should have been far better than it was, unfortunately. Our guide and Jon knew their stuff, for sure, and much of it was interesting-- especially that each of the Kremlin's multiple cathedrals was built to host a different stage of a Czar's life--but we really only saw churches, and at this point of my spring break, I was pretty church-ed out. Add to this the fact that the government buildings are naturally very much not open to the public, and, well, I wish I could have seen more than didn't involve tombs and extensive iconography. There was also a really huge bell and an even larger cannon, fortunately (neither ever used, and Guinness World Record holders both).
We had the rest of the evening free, so Nadine and I found our way to an extensive outdoor bazaar, where we marveled at the clothing selection and found our way to the souvenir section for a bit more buying. Next we found our way to dinner at a guidebook-recommended chain known for its "traditional Russian folksy" look. The food was good enough, but the staff's English, less so. Still, there was garlic rye bread shaped like fish sticks and crepes with lox and vegetable soup, so no complaints.
The group reconvened near the university around 9, where Mia took us for a quick tour by night (for Stalinist architecture, quite pretty). We'd been told this would be followed by a trip to a local bar. "Local bar" turned out to be the most American, 50s-style diner you can imagine, down to the bathroom utilities. So there were milkshakes instead of more Baltika, and Nadine felt right at home!
Saturday was decidedly uneventful-- we'd wanted to go to a banya but the logistics of it weren't meant to be. The group departed from the hotel before noon, too, so there wasn't time for much but a very relaxed packing session. Several hours later, once the interminable bus ride and check-in lines were finished, Nadine and I split one last meal and killed the rest of our time in Russia marveling over the size (and, in one case, machine gun shape) of the bottles of vodka for sale at the duty-free stores.
Forty minutes or two hours and forty minutes later, depending on how you take the time difference into account, we were back in Copenhagen to stay at long last! Of all the places I've been this break, this is definitely going to be my favorite one to come back to. I stamped my klippekort for the subway and grabbed en lille chai-chino from Baresso before I even crossed the Skindergade threshold to find not an empty apartment, as I'd expected, but two out of three roommates! Talk about a hygge ending.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Hammer and sickle, they drink vodka with a pickle
Nadine and I hit the streets early Tuesday morning with a Danish student on our trip named Lisbet to see St. Petersburg's central synagogue, which turned out to be within easy walking distance of our hotel. It was amazing! We only had about five minutes to peek in before we had to be back with the group, but that was worth the trip. The outside was striped and done in geometric shapes; the inside was painted white with yellow and blue accents and decorations. It was big and airy and grand and they so do not make them like that at home. It was also kind of fun to explain the idea of the synagogue to Lisbet, who didn't know much about Judaism and was curious how this particular building differed from any other.
We got back to the hotel in time to catch the second of two group walking tours leaving. The first tour, it transpired, went to a communal housing complex, among other things. My tour, on the other hand, started at a Russian banya (we didn't actually go into the baths themselves, but we got the scoop from our locally-born-and-bred guide), went through a food market (in which everyone gives your free samples in hopes of making a sale!), and finished at a bar. Yes, you've read that right.
The food market was fairly interesting, even without the free food part. The visuals were almost (but not quite) on par with those in Jerusalem in some places, and the guide broke down the class and ethnic strata of the place; for instance, most of the women selling cheese are Slavic, whereas the fruit folk hail from farther east.
We also heard about all the different kinds of Russian candy for sale (but not for tasting, sadly) and were informed that Russians like pickling most anything.
And now to the bar part. Paulina, our guide, walks us up to a wooden door with a sign that says the place is open from 10-22 (10am-10pm), and she explains that it's one of the last Soviet bars in the area. Inside, we find a kind of run-down, smoky, definitely local sort of place with an entire cabinet full of all sorts of vodka. Paulina explains how you drink Russian vodka like a Russia: shot of vodka (and they're big shots), followed by a bite of pickle, and then tomato juice with some salt. She also assures us that this is not supposed to be a Bloody Mary. In any case, I'm sitting down at the old wooden tables with everyone else, preparing to give this thing a try (and yes, it's about 11:30am at this point), when a 60- or 70-something Russian guy walks up and starts jabbering at me.
Alcoholic Russian guy doesn't quite fathom that I don't speak a word of Russian beyond spasibo ("thank you"). Fortunately, Paulina and another Dane on our trip, Mia, who's studying in Moscow for the semester, intervened and surmised that he's telling me I "look Russian" (which I'm later informed has no real legit meaning and is generally used as a conversation-starter or come-on). I tried to explain through them that I might have a bit of Russian blood going for me, which prompted my new friend to conclude that I must be a Russian alcoholic and that someone had to take a picture of him with me. Mia obliged, which was apparently all the guy needed to settle back down with his friends. Case in point, it seems, of older Russian men. After that episode, we all raised our shot glasses with a nastrovya! ("cheers!") and did the thing. I'm not a big fan of shots, but real Russian vodka goes down a lot more smoothly than its international counterparts, I learned, and the tomato juice took the sting off nicely.
After lunch, we had a nice, long guided tour of the Hermitage Museum in the Winter Palace. The building was a gorgeous example of Peter's schtick-- bright and intricate and lavish, inside and out. The art got a little old after a bit--not quite my style, I admit--but the rooms themselves were decorated so thoroughly and individually that it was well worth the wandering. We had a bit of free time after the tour to explore an exhibit on Islamic art and another on Impressionism; after a quick stop at both parts of the Internet café downstairs, a group of us started heading for the Hermitage Theater but were pretty waylaid by the nasty snowstorm that had begun. We did make it in good time before "Swan Lake" began, but another group had walked all the way to the hotel and back, and made it just as the curtain was going up, bent in half and covered in fresh power. Yikes.
The ballet itself was lovely, though it took until after the third act for any of us to know what was going on, after I borrowed a synopsis from someone. We all enjoyed it immensely after that, and walked out wanting to rent "The Swan Princess." The walk home was another story. We could take the metro for a chunk of it, but neither the theater nor the hotel were super-close to a station, so we got the full-throttle "Russian spring" treatment.
Thanks to the snowstorm, our day trip on Wednesday to the very, very old city of Novgorod was cancelled. Instead, we took a behind-the-scenes tour of sorts with an academic friend of Jon's. It was interesting-- he talked about the city's Soviet architecture, including the "churches of secularism" that are each of the city's metro stops. We also got a glance inside a municipal building featuring a huge red hammer and sickle on top. Unfortunately, all of this was sort of drowned out (pun intended) by the fact that the snow had started to melt, producing a muddy slush that had everyone soaked up the shins. Brr.
The afternoon brought a visit to a local homeless shelter. They didn't speak English (Jon translated) and didn't quite know what to do with us, but the main speaker was pretty interesting. Under Soviet rule, it was technically illegal to be homeless, so the government had a safety net, be it jail or regular provided housing. Without communism, though, the homeless population (some of it immigrant) grew, and they're still working on getting it recognized and addressed, both in Russia and in the world.
We then had about six hours to kill before our next group meeting time. The weather was so nasty (and it was late enough in the day that most museums were closed) that almost everyone went back to chill at the hotel. I, however, was one matriyoshka doll set short, and ended up trekking a mile or two in nasty, nasty winds to a recommended souvenir shop that didn't exist. I found another (and in it, a lovely purchase) on the way back, so it was worth it, but good lord, this climate is nuts.
There was an incredibly amusing dinner at the hotel restaurant with some of my fellow travelers including an incident of ordering ice cream specifically for the pirouline cookies it came with, after which the group headed to the Moscow train station in St. Petersburg to catch a sleeper train south. I explained my random hiccups to the Danes, had a muffin, and turned in as soon as we'd started moving. This turned out to be a good decision-- others stayed up late enough to learn the Russian word for "vomit," which turned out to be shpraf.
We got back to the hotel in time to catch the second of two group walking tours leaving. The first tour, it transpired, went to a communal housing complex, among other things. My tour, on the other hand, started at a Russian banya (we didn't actually go into the baths themselves, but we got the scoop from our locally-born-and-bred guide), went through a food market (in which everyone gives your free samples in hopes of making a sale!), and finished at a bar. Yes, you've read that right.
The food market was fairly interesting, even without the free food part. The visuals were almost (but not quite) on par with those in Jerusalem in some places, and the guide broke down the class and ethnic strata of the place; for instance, most of the women selling cheese are Slavic, whereas the fruit folk hail from farther east.
We also heard about all the different kinds of Russian candy for sale (but not for tasting, sadly) and were informed that Russians like pickling most anything.
And now to the bar part. Paulina, our guide, walks us up to a wooden door with a sign that says the place is open from 10-22 (10am-10pm), and she explains that it's one of the last Soviet bars in the area. Inside, we find a kind of run-down, smoky, definitely local sort of place with an entire cabinet full of all sorts of vodka. Paulina explains how you drink Russian vodka like a Russia: shot of vodka (and they're big shots), followed by a bite of pickle, and then tomato juice with some salt. She also assures us that this is not supposed to be a Bloody Mary. In any case, I'm sitting down at the old wooden tables with everyone else, preparing to give this thing a try (and yes, it's about 11:30am at this point), when a 60- or 70-something Russian guy walks up and starts jabbering at me.
Alcoholic Russian guy doesn't quite fathom that I don't speak a word of Russian beyond spasibo ("thank you"). Fortunately, Paulina and another Dane on our trip, Mia, who's studying in Moscow for the semester, intervened and surmised that he's telling me I "look Russian" (which I'm later informed has no real legit meaning and is generally used as a conversation-starter or come-on). I tried to explain through them that I might have a bit of Russian blood going for me, which prompted my new friend to conclude that I must be a Russian alcoholic and that someone had to take a picture of him with me. Mia obliged, which was apparently all the guy needed to settle back down with his friends. Case in point, it seems, of older Russian men. After that episode, we all raised our shot glasses with a nastrovya! ("cheers!") and did the thing. I'm not a big fan of shots, but real Russian vodka goes down a lot more smoothly than its international counterparts, I learned, and the tomato juice took the sting off nicely.
After lunch, we had a nice, long guided tour of the Hermitage Museum in the Winter Palace. The building was a gorgeous example of Peter's schtick-- bright and intricate and lavish, inside and out. The art got a little old after a bit--not quite my style, I admit--but the rooms themselves were decorated so thoroughly and individually that it was well worth the wandering. We had a bit of free time after the tour to explore an exhibit on Islamic art and another on Impressionism; after a quick stop at both parts of the Internet café downstairs, a group of us started heading for the Hermitage Theater but were pretty waylaid by the nasty snowstorm that had begun. We did make it in good time before "Swan Lake" began, but another group had walked all the way to the hotel and back, and made it just as the curtain was going up, bent in half and covered in fresh power. Yikes.
The ballet itself was lovely, though it took until after the third act for any of us to know what was going on, after I borrowed a synopsis from someone. We all enjoyed it immensely after that, and walked out wanting to rent "The Swan Princess." The walk home was another story. We could take the metro for a chunk of it, but neither the theater nor the hotel were super-close to a station, so we got the full-throttle "Russian spring" treatment.
Thanks to the snowstorm, our day trip on Wednesday to the very, very old city of Novgorod was cancelled. Instead, we took a behind-the-scenes tour of sorts with an academic friend of Jon's. It was interesting-- he talked about the city's Soviet architecture, including the "churches of secularism" that are each of the city's metro stops. We also got a glance inside a municipal building featuring a huge red hammer and sickle on top. Unfortunately, all of this was sort of drowned out (pun intended) by the fact that the snow had started to melt, producing a muddy slush that had everyone soaked up the shins. Brr.
The afternoon brought a visit to a local homeless shelter. They didn't speak English (Jon translated) and didn't quite know what to do with us, but the main speaker was pretty interesting. Under Soviet rule, it was technically illegal to be homeless, so the government had a safety net, be it jail or regular provided housing. Without communism, though, the homeless population (some of it immigrant) grew, and they're still working on getting it recognized and addressed, both in Russia and in the world.
We then had about six hours to kill before our next group meeting time. The weather was so nasty (and it was late enough in the day that most museums were closed) that almost everyone went back to chill at the hotel. I, however, was one matriyoshka doll set short, and ended up trekking a mile or two in nasty, nasty winds to a recommended souvenir shop that didn't exist. I found another (and in it, a lovely purchase) on the way back, so it was worth it, but good lord, this climate is nuts.
There was an incredibly amusing dinner at the hotel restaurant with some of my fellow travelers including an incident of ordering ice cream specifically for the pirouline cookies it came with, after which the group headed to the Moscow train station in St. Petersburg to catch a sleeper train south. I explained my random hiccups to the Danes, had a muffin, and turned in as soon as we'd started moving. This turned out to be a good decision-- others stayed up late enough to learn the Russian word for "vomit," which turned out to be shpraf.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Putting the "Putin" in "Rasputin"
First impression of Russia: This place is cold!
Second impression of Russia: This place is most definitely not Europe.
Long version:
After a very short turnaround in Copenhagen between my week with Andy and my tour to Russia (including a scant three hours of sleep), I managed to make it to Kastrup Lufthavn in fine time to catch the group flight to Russia. This earned me (finally!) a passport stamp--a first for this break, excluding the one at the tourist place in Liechtenstein. Silly Schengen Agreement...don't they know American students want the extra hassle if it means proof that they made it to eight different countries in less than three weeks?
After we settled into the Hotel Azimut of St. Petersburg, we had the rest of the afternoon free to explore. I teamed up with a few architecture students and a fellow European Politics girl named Monica and ended up at St. Isaac's Cathedral, a gold-domed (not onion) church with a great view off the top despite the ongoing construction. The architecture kids were a bit caught up, but Monica and I wandered off towards the Dane-owned restaurant where the group was to meet for dinner. On the way, we got our first (albeit snow-obscured) look at the Church of Our Savior on Spilled Blood, which is one of the few amazing cathedrals with "candied" onion domes-- the bright colors and three-dimensional shapes that you've probably seen in pictures. The increasing snowfall limited visibility (as well as dryness) for most of the walk, but man, was it great to get to the restaurant! Our tour guide, Jon (pronounced "Yohn"-- he's a Danish teacher at DIS), had arranged for English-speaking Russia students to join us, so we got to spend a little while trying to elicit views on Putin and Medvedev (Russia's president-elect) from an engineering student. (He thought they were pretty much the same thing, but he was okay with that.) By the time our four-course meal was done (I swear, DIS is trying to fatten us all up for something), most of us were so tired from the early morning on top of two weeks straight of traveling already that we figured out the St. Petersburg metro system well enough to get home and collapse comfortably.
Monday morning dawned as all of our mornings in "Peters" did-- cloudy with a chance of (not meatballs, but rather) snow and serious wind. We started out at a stature Catherine the Great had built to honor Peter the Great, and Jon explained about the latter's determination to great this city he named for himself as part of a major effort to open up Russia to Western influence and culture. You can see the results of that all over town. Our next stop was the Peter and Paul Fortress, which, among other things, demonstrates its non-Russianness through a church with a major spire and a clock on it: such things are more or less unheard of on traditional Russian Orthodox buildings. We wandered through the chapel and along the water; sights included a roomful of Romanovs, more untraditional church sights (including a partially see-through dividing screen-- they're supposed to be solid, and only the priests can go behind them), and a very unflattering statue of Peter the Great.
We next got to see our first real Lenin statue-- the iconic one in front of the Finland train station, with his arm extended in oratorical gesticulation towards the people. I liked that he wears an overcoat-- you need it!
After lunch, my new friend Nadine (a Jewish vegetarian journalism major from New Jersey, so we had to be friends) and I went to the recommended souvenir market, where we spent an hour or so haggling with a couple of the zillion sellers of nesting dolls, Soviet-encrusted memorabilia, and so forth. I ended up with a gorgeous set of matriyoshkas for myself, as well as presents for a few people. You know who you are. We tried to go to a couple of museums, but the first one was closing, and Nadine realized outside of the second one that she'd left her camera at the first. Fortunately, a kind security guard understood just enough gesticulation and English to return the camera, no bribes necessary (we'd been warned).
With most museums around closing time, we instead bought tickets to see the inside of the Church of Our Savior on Spilled Blood. I was worried any interior would be a letdown after its incredible outside, but apparently its architects anticipated this and made sure that the inside was covered in spectacular mosaics on a gorgeous blue background with just enough geometric shapes about for me to sneak a few clandestine photos without incorporating too much New Testament.
We ended up at the trendy Café Zoom for dinner on our own, which was delicious and fun, minus a pair of Russian girls roughly our age who kept taunting us from the other end of the room for speaking English. Kind of rude. We decided we didn't care if their country ever got a democratic government, so there!
Second impression of Russia: This place is most definitely not Europe.
Long version:
After a very short turnaround in Copenhagen between my week with Andy and my tour to Russia (including a scant three hours of sleep), I managed to make it to Kastrup Lufthavn in fine time to catch the group flight to Russia. This earned me (finally!) a passport stamp--a first for this break, excluding the one at the tourist place in Liechtenstein. Silly Schengen Agreement...don't they know American students want the extra hassle if it means proof that they made it to eight different countries in less than three weeks?
After we settled into the Hotel Azimut of St. Petersburg, we had the rest of the afternoon free to explore. I teamed up with a few architecture students and a fellow European Politics girl named Monica and ended up at St. Isaac's Cathedral, a gold-domed (not onion) church with a great view off the top despite the ongoing construction. The architecture kids were a bit caught up, but Monica and I wandered off towards the Dane-owned restaurant where the group was to meet for dinner. On the way, we got our first (albeit snow-obscured) look at the Church of Our Savior on Spilled Blood, which is one of the few amazing cathedrals with "candied" onion domes-- the bright colors and three-dimensional shapes that you've probably seen in pictures. The increasing snowfall limited visibility (as well as dryness) for most of the walk, but man, was it great to get to the restaurant! Our tour guide, Jon (pronounced "Yohn"-- he's a Danish teacher at DIS), had arranged for English-speaking Russia students to join us, so we got to spend a little while trying to elicit views on Putin and Medvedev (Russia's president-elect) from an engineering student. (He thought they were pretty much the same thing, but he was okay with that.) By the time our four-course meal was done (I swear, DIS is trying to fatten us all up for something), most of us were so tired from the early morning on top of two weeks straight of traveling already that we figured out the St. Petersburg metro system well enough to get home and collapse comfortably.
Monday morning dawned as all of our mornings in "Peters" did-- cloudy with a chance of (not meatballs, but rather) snow and serious wind. We started out at a stature Catherine the Great had built to honor Peter the Great, and Jon explained about the latter's determination to great this city he named for himself as part of a major effort to open up Russia to Western influence and culture. You can see the results of that all over town. Our next stop was the Peter and Paul Fortress, which, among other things, demonstrates its non-Russianness through a church with a major spire and a clock on it: such things are more or less unheard of on traditional Russian Orthodox buildings. We wandered through the chapel and along the water; sights included a roomful of Romanovs, more untraditional church sights (including a partially see-through dividing screen-- they're supposed to be solid, and only the priests can go behind them), and a very unflattering statue of Peter the Great.
We next got to see our first real Lenin statue-- the iconic one in front of the Finland train station, with his arm extended in oratorical gesticulation towards the people. I liked that he wears an overcoat-- you need it!
After lunch, my new friend Nadine (a Jewish vegetarian journalism major from New Jersey, so we had to be friends) and I went to the recommended souvenir market, where we spent an hour or so haggling with a couple of the zillion sellers of nesting dolls, Soviet-encrusted memorabilia, and so forth. I ended up with a gorgeous set of matriyoshkas for myself, as well as presents for a few people. You know who you are. We tried to go to a couple of museums, but the first one was closing, and Nadine realized outside of the second one that she'd left her camera at the first. Fortunately, a kind security guard understood just enough gesticulation and English to return the camera, no bribes necessary (we'd been warned).
With most museums around closing time, we instead bought tickets to see the inside of the Church of Our Savior on Spilled Blood. I was worried any interior would be a letdown after its incredible outside, but apparently its architects anticipated this and made sure that the inside was covered in spectacular mosaics on a gorgeous blue background with just enough geometric shapes about for me to sneak a few clandestine photos without incorporating too much New Testament.
We ended up at the trendy Café Zoom for dinner on our own, which was delicious and fun, minus a pair of Russian girls roughly our age who kept taunting us from the other end of the room for speaking English. Kind of rude. We decided we didn't care if their country ever got a democratic government, so there!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Le dernier arrêt
Our last stop for the week was Geneva, which started with, naturally (we felt), a pot of fondue. I'd originally been excited about seeing some of the international institutions there, but after Brussels I ended up fascinated by the Jet d'Eau, a fountain that shoots a stream of water about 140 meters into the air in the middle of Lac Léman.
Saturday morning, we enjoyed a climb to the top of Cathedrale St.-Pierre (more vistas, plus two belltowners!), a game of giant checkers overseen by the big names (and statues) of Reformation players, and a stroll down the historically cobbled Grande Rue, including a peek into Jean Jacques Rousseau's birthplace (which conveniently appeared mere moments after Andy had wondered from where the philosopher originally hailed). Lunch was at a delightful café in the quasi-suburb of Carouge and was followed up by a small pyramid of chocolate mousse coated with raspberry mousse that we shared. Uh, wow.
After lunch, Andy kindly agreed to go to MAMCO, Geneva's modern art museum, which totally satisfied my desire for some real off-the-wall nuttiness. My personal favorite piece was a little fluorescent light a few inches tall shaped to read "CORNER" that sat bent in a right angle in the corner of one of the rooms-- you could easily have missed it. There was also one room whose floor was covered with a thick layer of yellow dust; the installation's title was ''Luce, luce, luce," Italian for "moon, moon, moon." We did make it up to the United Nations and WTO buildings, and though it's not as if you can just walk in, the area was beautiful to walk around, particularly once we were back on the lakefront. The boats across the lake are part of the local transportation system, so we caught one to get back to the hotel (albeit in a roundabout way).
We caught the 6 o'clock train to the airport thereafter and said our goodbyes-- which, fortunately, don't have to last for too long, as we're meeting in Stockholm, and then in Copenhagen (!) right around my birthday next month.
In all, it was a wonderful, wonderful week together. Obviously all of the sights and doings and food were great, but we found each other to be very complementary travel companions who definitely enjoy the other's company for a whole week and then some.
Coming up next: an eight-hour turnaround between international flights, mother Russia, and some much-needed napping.
Saturday morning, we enjoyed a climb to the top of Cathedrale St.-Pierre (more vistas, plus two belltowners!), a game of giant checkers overseen by the big names (and statues) of Reformation players, and a stroll down the historically cobbled Grande Rue, including a peek into Jean Jacques Rousseau's birthplace (which conveniently appeared mere moments after Andy had wondered from where the philosopher originally hailed). Lunch was at a delightful café in the quasi-suburb of Carouge and was followed up by a small pyramid of chocolate mousse coated with raspberry mousse that we shared. Uh, wow.
After lunch, Andy kindly agreed to go to MAMCO, Geneva's modern art museum, which totally satisfied my desire for some real off-the-wall nuttiness. My personal favorite piece was a little fluorescent light a few inches tall shaped to read "CORNER" that sat bent in a right angle in the corner of one of the rooms-- you could easily have missed it. There was also one room whose floor was covered with a thick layer of yellow dust; the installation's title was ''Luce, luce, luce," Italian for "moon, moon, moon." We did make it up to the United Nations and WTO buildings, and though it's not as if you can just walk in, the area was beautiful to walk around, particularly once we were back on the lakefront. The boats across the lake are part of the local transportation system, so we caught one to get back to the hotel (albeit in a roundabout way).
We caught the 6 o'clock train to the airport thereafter and said our goodbyes-- which, fortunately, don't have to last for too long, as we're meeting in Stockholm, and then in Copenhagen (!) right around my birthday next month.
In all, it was a wonderful, wonderful week together. Obviously all of the sights and doings and food were great, but we found each other to be very complementary travel companions who definitely enjoy the other's company for a whole week and then some.
Coming up next: an eight-hour turnaround between international flights, mother Russia, and some much-needed napping.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Lovely weather for a sleigh ride together
So, Andy's parents had very enthusiastically recommended Grindelwald as a stop on our trans-Switzerland trip almost totally based on the amazing Alpine views it offers, at least in the summer, when they had been.
When we went, in mid-March, the place was experiencing a wonderfully authentic Alpine blizzard.
If you've met Andy, then you'll know that this did not stop us. We managed to rest up despite our very loud and not-sober neighbors at the hostel, and by 11am or so we hit the slopes armed with awesome aluminum sleds, complete with runners. They had several long toboggan runs; we started on one of the lower ones. Now, I love sledding. I adore snow. I don't even mind sledding while it's snowing. The caveat, though, is that I'm usually sledding while appropriately attired-- not, as was the case, in jeans, sneakers, and a peacoat. Quite the experience, let me tell you. The run itself was actually fairy fun, even when I lost control and fell off the path several times, but by the end I was wet from the waist down (Andy had brought a waterproof shell that he lent me in exchange for my extra hat) and shivering. Apparently this part of the Alps doesn't have ski lifts; rather, they use cog-wheel trains, which are really cool in concept but inexplicably entail very, very long wait periods.
So by the time we'd gotten to the top of that part of the mountain, I was soaked through. We did lunch--a Swiss dish that might have been called raclette, consisting of cheese and potatoes, with soup--and I headed back to the hostel for a hour or two while Andy did some really hardcore sledding. The train rides down and back were beautiful: things cleared up lower down, so I could actually see some of the houses and things tucked into the ridges.
Once Andy returned, I'd warmed up more than enough. He changed and we hopped the train before sundown in order to stare out the windows for a while longer as we headed for our last stop of the week, Geneva.
Final verdict on Grindelwald: I'd really love to go back on a sunny day, regardless of the season. But if that season is winter, I'd really love to go back with proper snow gear!
When we went, in mid-March, the place was experiencing a wonderfully authentic Alpine blizzard.
If you've met Andy, then you'll know that this did not stop us. We managed to rest up despite our very loud and not-sober neighbors at the hostel, and by 11am or so we hit the slopes armed with awesome aluminum sleds, complete with runners. They had several long toboggan runs; we started on one of the lower ones. Now, I love sledding. I adore snow. I don't even mind sledding while it's snowing. The caveat, though, is that I'm usually sledding while appropriately attired-- not, as was the case, in jeans, sneakers, and a peacoat. Quite the experience, let me tell you. The run itself was actually fairy fun, even when I lost control and fell off the path several times, but by the end I was wet from the waist down (Andy had brought a waterproof shell that he lent me in exchange for my extra hat) and shivering. Apparently this part of the Alps doesn't have ski lifts; rather, they use cog-wheel trains, which are really cool in concept but inexplicably entail very, very long wait periods.
So by the time we'd gotten to the top of that part of the mountain, I was soaked through. We did lunch--a Swiss dish that might have been called raclette, consisting of cheese and potatoes, with soup--and I headed back to the hostel for a hour or two while Andy did some really hardcore sledding. The train rides down and back were beautiful: things cleared up lower down, so I could actually see some of the houses and things tucked into the ridges.
Once Andy returned, I'd warmed up more than enough. He changed and we hopped the train before sundown in order to stare out the windows for a while longer as we headed for our last stop of the week, Geneva.
Final verdict on Grindelwald: I'd really love to go back on a sunny day, regardless of the season. But if that season is winter, I'd really love to go back with proper snow gear!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
...and then he made pancakes.
(Title credit again goes to Andy, but in this case it's better not to ask.)
Luzern is lovely! We got in just in time for a late dinner of-- what else?--Swiss fondue, of both the cheese and chocolate varieties, and the walk from our hotel to the restaurants and back ensured a nice look at the city by night, including the historical covered bridge and water tower.
In the morning, we circled part of the amazing lakefront, popped into a church, and ended up at the geological part attached to the Löwendenkmal, a monument in commemoration of 700 Swiss mercenaries (apparently their neutrality only extends to unpaid wars?) killed in the Franco-Prussian War from 1870-1. Apparently Mark Twain described it as the saddest monument in existence, and I've got to tell you, despite the glacier pool and the lovely natural scenery, the sight of the stone lion curling up to die around a broken shield in a rock crevice is pretty sad. Fortunately, the rest of the park was fairly happy: we learned about how glaciers can make potholes, saw some polar bear skeletons, and climbed a wooden tower in the back to (as you may have guessed) admire the view.
We did some walked by a long city wall thereafter; at one point, we found a small pasture of very woolly cattle, which Andy described as "cow muppets." Took me a while to recover from the giggles inspired by that conversation.
After a quick lunch (the Swizz like to use pretzels as sandwich bread), we went to the Verkehrshaus, which roughly translates to mean a transportation museum. "Museum" kind of understates the scale of the place, though; we're talking a warehouse dedicated to trains, and another each to planes, boats, and cars and bikes. Andy was like a kid in a candy store! I took some time out to peek into the Hans Erni museum (art) that was inexplicably part of the complex, but the art wasn't that exciting and the place smelled kind of funny. Fortunately, there was an awesome Rube Goldberg device in the marine section of the place, as well as a big-front-wheeled bike to play on, so I was very satisfied with the visit as well.
We took some more pictures of Lac Luzern and had (for once) a very relaxing train-catching experience around 5pm. We were headed into the heart of the Swiss Alps, so Andy wanted to make sure we did at least part of the ride in the daylight. I was very much okay with that plan: every turn the train made brought another utterly breathtaking view. The mountains are spectacular. The water is all from glaciers, so it's unbelievably clear. And there are all of these small villages nestled in among the hills, which also guide some very steep train tracks. I didn't think you could still see places this pristine in the world!
Luzern is lovely! We got in just in time for a late dinner of-- what else?--Swiss fondue, of both the cheese and chocolate varieties, and the walk from our hotel to the restaurants and back ensured a nice look at the city by night, including the historical covered bridge and water tower.
In the morning, we circled part of the amazing lakefront, popped into a church, and ended up at the geological part attached to the Löwendenkmal, a monument in commemoration of 700 Swiss mercenaries (apparently their neutrality only extends to unpaid wars?) killed in the Franco-Prussian War from 1870-1. Apparently Mark Twain described it as the saddest monument in existence, and I've got to tell you, despite the glacier pool and the lovely natural scenery, the sight of the stone lion curling up to die around a broken shield in a rock crevice is pretty sad. Fortunately, the rest of the park was fairly happy: we learned about how glaciers can make potholes, saw some polar bear skeletons, and climbed a wooden tower in the back to (as you may have guessed) admire the view.
We did some walked by a long city wall thereafter; at one point, we found a small pasture of very woolly cattle, which Andy described as "cow muppets." Took me a while to recover from the giggles inspired by that conversation.
After a quick lunch (the Swizz like to use pretzels as sandwich bread), we went to the Verkehrshaus, which roughly translates to mean a transportation museum. "Museum" kind of understates the scale of the place, though; we're talking a warehouse dedicated to trains, and another each to planes, boats, and cars and bikes. Andy was like a kid in a candy store! I took some time out to peek into the Hans Erni museum (art) that was inexplicably part of the complex, but the art wasn't that exciting and the place smelled kind of funny. Fortunately, there was an awesome Rube Goldberg device in the marine section of the place, as well as a big-front-wheeled bike to play on, so I was very satisfied with the visit as well.
We took some more pictures of Lac Luzern and had (for once) a very relaxing train-catching experience around 5pm. We were headed into the heart of the Swiss Alps, so Andy wanted to make sure we did at least part of the ride in the daylight. I was very much okay with that plan: every turn the train made brought another utterly breathtaking view. The mountains are spectacular. The water is all from glaciers, so it's unbelievably clear. And there are all of these small villages nestled in among the hills, which also guide some very steep train tracks. I didn't think you could still see places this pristine in the world!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The hills are alive! (Aah!)
Wednesday morning, we woke up at a lovely little hotel with a great breakfast spread in Innsbruck, a small Alpine town in the western arm of Austria that to me was entirely reminiscent of Mont Tremblant in Quebec, in the sense that Mont Tremblant was completely designed to look like a place such as Innsburck. We wandered its streets for an hour or two, mostly marveling over huge mountains towering over the charming little buildings.
After a quick train ride to Feldkirch, Austria, we set out to achieve the day's main objective: visit the micronation of Liechtenstein. Though for most intents and purposes it's part of Switzerland (down to using the currency), Liechtenstein is in fact its own country (I have the stamp on my passport from the tourist office to prove it!) with its own bus system (aptly titled the Liechtenstein Bus), capital (Vaduz, where we spent our time), and history (there's a whole museum!) to enjoy. Half of the visit, of course, was marveling that we could see Switzerland from Vaduz's main street. The other half entailed a very brief tasting at the Prince's Winery and visits to the National Museum (complete with an English audio tour to teach us how such a tiny little state comes to be) and the Post Museum. Apparently Liechtenstein is known for its postage stamps, but the museum was only one room and fairly dull besides (though, fortunately, it was also free).
We caught the Liechtenstein Bus out of Vaduz to Buchs, Switzerland, which, after a couple of transfers and more marveling that we could drive through an entire country in less than an hour total, got us to Luzern, Switzerland. More on that in a bit.
After a quick train ride to Feldkirch, Austria, we set out to achieve the day's main objective: visit the micronation of Liechtenstein. Though for most intents and purposes it's part of Switzerland (down to using the currency), Liechtenstein is in fact its own country (I have the stamp on my passport from the tourist office to prove it!) with its own bus system (aptly titled the Liechtenstein Bus), capital (Vaduz, where we spent our time), and history (there's a whole museum!) to enjoy. Half of the visit, of course, was marveling that we could see Switzerland from Vaduz's main street. The other half entailed a very brief tasting at the Prince's Winery and visits to the National Museum (complete with an English audio tour to teach us how such a tiny little state comes to be) and the Post Museum. Apparently Liechtenstein is known for its postage stamps, but the museum was only one room and fairly dull besides (though, fortunately, it was also free).
We caught the Liechtenstein Bus out of Vaduz to Buchs, Switzerland, which, after a couple of transfers and more marveling that we could drive through an entire country in less than an hour total, got us to Luzern, Switzerland. More on that in a bit.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
No kangaroos in Austria.
Day One in Vienna began with, of all things, smørrebrød. Apparently Austria has its own version of open sandwiches...but I've got to tell you, they're pretty much the same thing, down to the love of lox. We also got a good look at the Wien Rathaus; I guessed based on my detailed knowledge of Danish that this was City Hall (rådhus in Danish) and was right! Go me. Parliament was quite a sight, too, but I was so government-building-ed out after my study tour that we went to the Hofburg palace complex instead. First stop was the Crown Jewels exhibit, which included a heck of a lot of royal clothing, very funny hats, and no shortage of reliquaries. Despite not really appreciating the latter category, the artistic value of everything was fairly high. Austrian royals really liked their washing bowls fancy! The Spanish Riding School, also in Hofburg and home to the Lipizzaner Stallions, was closed, sadly.
We walked through the Albertina museum next; the Max Ernst surrealist collage-novels were a bit above our heads, but the impressionist exhibit was phenomenal. There was everything from Picasso to Monet to Rothko and anyone you can think of in between, organized roughly by school. Everything was translated into English, happily, and we spent a solid hour or two perusing. Man, I love a good art museum, and Vienna, we found was chock-full of them.
Lunch for me was spinach strudel and mushroom soup-- look at that, family! Somehow this whole study abroad experience has nixed a lot of my picky eating tendencies of old. I don't eat meat, of course, but I now love vegetable soup, and can do Indian and Thai food, and had no problem eating anywhere I went for the whole three weeks of traveling. I think Andy (who sampled wiener schnitzel, of course) was starting not to recognize me at a few points.
Anyway, lunch was followed by a walk through Stephansdom, a beautiful cathedral with a pretty funky roof. To counteract the church visit, we went to Judenplatz, which is home to a small museum housing archeological finds of the Viennese Jewish community, including the foundations of the city's first synagogue from the 1300s or 1400s or so. Only the bottoms of the walls really remain, but to be there, and imagine standing in the women's section or on the bemah with just a few like-minded families so long ago in a place that may or may not be friendly to them was really extraordinary.
The later afternoon brought my favorite part of Vienna, the KunstHausWien. It's a four-story art museum in one of my favorite buildings ever-- I'll get pictures up as soon as I can, because I really can't do it justice in print. The first two floors were filled with the art of Friedensreich Hundertwasser, who apparently loved very bright colors, spirals, and metallic flecks. His style was pretty uniform, but the work was really gorgeous! There was also a section on his architecture, some of which looks like the museum building, and some of which was never built but involved models of Hobbit-like homes build into rolling hills for minimum human impact on the environment. I ended up with a posted depicting the museum building to go along with my older one of the exterior of MoMA for my room next year.
We took a tram back in the direction of our hotel and stopped for dinner at 7 Stern Braü, a restaurant and microbrewery. It was terribly fun, enjoying Viennese-style gnocchi and brie with 20 cl brews you can't find anywhere else. One of several meals in which we definitely ate too much because it was so different and good!
We slept in a bit the next morning-- travel is tiring!--and then rented CityBikes near the hotel Metro stop to get to the center of the city. That was fun! We did go over a cobblestone road at one point, though, which I do not recommend. It snowed right before we parked the bikes at our destination, which was really special-- that was also the point at which a traffic light got us stuck on opposite sides of the street, so we took it as a prime photo op.
Brunch was Starbucks (in German!) and a raisin challah that we demolished while watching the Anker Clock, which has a little music-accompanied mechanical show of sorts at noon in which various figures in Austrian history move across it. The description was in German, though, so I'll need translation at some point to fully appreciate that one.
We spent the early afternoon at Schönbrunn, a palace apparently modeled after Versailles located not too far from the city center. My guidebook had recommended the "Grand Tour," which includes all 40 rooms in the Prunkräume (palace rooms), which was totally worth seeing. It's not quite clear why people thought it would be good to invest so much in making way more than 40 rooms so individually detailed and ornate and uniquely beautiful, but at least the results were drool-worthy. Schönbrunn also has some spectacular gardens, called the Schlosspark, with a pavillion-restaurant that we scaled for--you guessed it--more amazing views of a different city.
The next stop was the Belvedere Museum, which has an upper palace housing a lot of Klimt works, including "The Kiss," which was (unlike other 'great works' I've seen in the past) very worth seeing in person, mainly for the colors and metallics and details. The lower half of the Belvedere had a temporary exhibit that was cool, too, but we lingered there for too long, it turned out. By the time we left, it was a major and unanticipated time crunch to rush back to the hotel for our bags (which took a long walk, a tram ride, and a several Metro stops) and then to the train station to get the last train out of town.
We made our train with no more than a minute and a half to spare. I'm still not sure how. I think it was two hours before my lungs fully recovered, and that was in spite of Andy's wonderfully volunteering to carry my not-quite-20kg backpack. We treated ourselves to a nice dinner in the dining car in celebration and relief, and spent a good chunk of the ride to Innsbruck in awe of the fact that we'd actually gotten on the train.
Vienna, in short, seems to be characterized by going to museums, and staying there for longer than you'd expect. But I'm smiling just thinking about it. Not as much eye candy (to my taste, anyway) outdoors as Prague-- and the whole place was of course much more manicured--but well worth our visit.
We walked through the Albertina museum next; the Max Ernst surrealist collage-novels were a bit above our heads, but the impressionist exhibit was phenomenal. There was everything from Picasso to Monet to Rothko and anyone you can think of in between, organized roughly by school. Everything was translated into English, happily, and we spent a solid hour or two perusing. Man, I love a good art museum, and Vienna, we found was chock-full of them.
Lunch for me was spinach strudel and mushroom soup-- look at that, family! Somehow this whole study abroad experience has nixed a lot of my picky eating tendencies of old. I don't eat meat, of course, but I now love vegetable soup, and can do Indian and Thai food, and had no problem eating anywhere I went for the whole three weeks of traveling. I think Andy (who sampled wiener schnitzel, of course) was starting not to recognize me at a few points.
Anyway, lunch was followed by a walk through Stephansdom, a beautiful cathedral with a pretty funky roof. To counteract the church visit, we went to Judenplatz, which is home to a small museum housing archeological finds of the Viennese Jewish community, including the foundations of the city's first synagogue from the 1300s or 1400s or so. Only the bottoms of the walls really remain, but to be there, and imagine standing in the women's section or on the bemah with just a few like-minded families so long ago in a place that may or may not be friendly to them was really extraordinary.
The later afternoon brought my favorite part of Vienna, the KunstHausWien. It's a four-story art museum in one of my favorite buildings ever-- I'll get pictures up as soon as I can, because I really can't do it justice in print. The first two floors were filled with the art of Friedensreich Hundertwasser, who apparently loved very bright colors, spirals, and metallic flecks. His style was pretty uniform, but the work was really gorgeous! There was also a section on his architecture, some of which looks like the museum building, and some of which was never built but involved models of Hobbit-like homes build into rolling hills for minimum human impact on the environment. I ended up with a posted depicting the museum building to go along with my older one of the exterior of MoMA for my room next year.
We took a tram back in the direction of our hotel and stopped for dinner at 7 Stern Braü, a restaurant and microbrewery. It was terribly fun, enjoying Viennese-style gnocchi and brie with 20 cl brews you can't find anywhere else. One of several meals in which we definitely ate too much because it was so different and good!
We slept in a bit the next morning-- travel is tiring!--and then rented CityBikes near the hotel Metro stop to get to the center of the city. That was fun! We did go over a cobblestone road at one point, though, which I do not recommend. It snowed right before we parked the bikes at our destination, which was really special-- that was also the point at which a traffic light got us stuck on opposite sides of the street, so we took it as a prime photo op.
Brunch was Starbucks (in German!) and a raisin challah that we demolished while watching the Anker Clock, which has a little music-accompanied mechanical show of sorts at noon in which various figures in Austrian history move across it. The description was in German, though, so I'll need translation at some point to fully appreciate that one.
We spent the early afternoon at Schönbrunn, a palace apparently modeled after Versailles located not too far from the city center. My guidebook had recommended the "Grand Tour," which includes all 40 rooms in the Prunkräume (palace rooms), which was totally worth seeing. It's not quite clear why people thought it would be good to invest so much in making way more than 40 rooms so individually detailed and ornate and uniquely beautiful, but at least the results were drool-worthy. Schönbrunn also has some spectacular gardens, called the Schlosspark, with a pavillion-restaurant that we scaled for--you guessed it--more amazing views of a different city.
The next stop was the Belvedere Museum, which has an upper palace housing a lot of Klimt works, including "The Kiss," which was (unlike other 'great works' I've seen in the past) very worth seeing in person, mainly for the colors and metallics and details. The lower half of the Belvedere had a temporary exhibit that was cool, too, but we lingered there for too long, it turned out. By the time we left, it was a major and unanticipated time crunch to rush back to the hotel for our bags (which took a long walk, a tram ride, and a several Metro stops) and then to the train station to get the last train out of town.
We made our train with no more than a minute and a half to spare. I'm still not sure how. I think it was two hours before my lungs fully recovered, and that was in spite of Andy's wonderfully volunteering to carry my not-quite-20kg backpack. We treated ourselves to a nice dinner in the dining car in celebration and relief, and spent a good chunk of the ride to Innsbruck in awe of the fact that we'd actually gotten on the train.
Vienna, in short, seems to be characterized by going to museums, and staying there for longer than you'd expect. But I'm smiling just thinking about it. Not as much eye candy (to my taste, anyway) outdoors as Prague-- and the whole place was of course much more manicured--but well worth our visit.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Czech out our Prague-ress!
(Title credit goes to Andy, whose love of punning was inspired by our first stop.)
Brussels wrapped up nicely, with Friday morning spent on one last academic assignment. In groups, we were sent to interview EU lobbyists; my group had a delightful British woman from Amnesty International, which made for a very interesting hour. I kind of want her job now-- it's a combination of lobbying, communications, and policy analysis. And Brussels would be a fabulous place to spend a year or two...although I'm definitely glad to be in Copenhagen for my semester abroad.
Once the study tour wrapped up, I hopped a plane to Vienna, where I was supposed to meet Andy for the night before heading to Prague early Saturday morning (it was cheaper to do it that way). I made good on the whole plan, but Andy missed his plane out of Gatwick and thus met me in Prague the next day. We were both a bit tired, but, armed with my awesome Rough Guide to Europe and a list of must-do's from my friend Carly who spent last spring there, we were nonetheless ready to take Prague by storm!
We started out on a big main street, Vaclavske Namesti, and immediately sampled trdlo (me), sugar-sprinkled bread baked wrapped around a rolling pin, and kloebasa (Andy), the apparent Czech answer to hot dogs. We wandered up a tower called St. Henry's for an amazing view of the inner city and quickly discovered why Prague is known for its 'thousand spires'-- though, to be fair, a lot of the things they count as spires are poking out of one large one, which I think is cheating a little bit. The tower also had a nifty bell tower and a small display on Prague's spires, many of which we closer contact with over the course of the weekend.
We wandered through a big square or two in Stare Mesto, the old town, doing much admiring of the architechture and the marionette shops that lined every street. I don't think I've ever seen so many souvenir shops in such a small area, let alone that many selling puppets! The Charles Bridge was our next stop, and we took our time crossing over the River Vltava. The view was amazing, to begin with-- I think that was the first point that I realized just how stunning Prague is. The whole city really ended up being eye candy for me. The bridge is also crawling with kiosks and things to look at. Andy was teasing me for stopping to peer at every jewelery stand, but, to be fair, he took a picture at the caricature booth of Jack Nicholson's head growing out of a foot with some flowers. There was also a fantastic five-man band playing up a storm and featuring a very talented and excellently goateed gentleman on the washboard.
Once over and in Hradcany (which we started calling 'Hard Candy'-- our Czech is awful bordering on nonexistent, so this sort of thing happened a lot), the wandering took us up a number of stairways and hills-- as if I hadn't been crisscrossing Brussels for the last three days in heels!--to loop around several gorgeous palaces and buildings. Schwarzenbersky Palac was my particular favorite; it was closed to visitors, but each individual brick on the outside was decorated and the overall effect was stunning. Next came the Prague Castle complex-- at this point, it was too late in the day for a tour, which ended up being fine with us-- where we took a few moments to appreciate the sheer size of it, what we thought was a Lenin statue (actually Prague's first president), and the exterior of St. Vitus Cathedral. Aside from being spectacular in the sense that many big, grand European cathedrals seem to be, St. Vitus also has a few gargoyles that, upon closer inspection, proved to be men sticking out their tongues.
We found a small and apparently one-way walking street, which led to more amazing views-- Hradcany is set into a hill, so wherever we were on that side of the river meant that you'd turn around and gasp. We stopped for crepes and hot wine (apparently a Czech thing) in a lovely little park-- the crepes were yummy, the wine resulted in an amusing series of pictures of Andy trashing it. The fooding continued from there, as neither of us had really had lunch; we split something that may be called smazyny syr that was sort of fried dough with garlic sauce, ketchup, and cheese on top. It sounded (and looked and smelled) more than a bit odd, but it was surprisingly good. This was topped off by a bit of risotto and Pilsner Urquell (another Czech thing--fortunately, their beer is far better than their wine) back in Stare Mesto. We headed back to the hostel after that. It was only about 8 or 9, but we'd both been up early to get there, and we'd done so much walking that bed was more than welcome. Plus, our hostel was in a totally different neighborhood, one that looks way more Soviet than the older parts of the city, so we got to "Czech" out a different look of the city and experience the subway system, which turned out to be very easy to use and to do so without buying tickets (which, for the record, we did anyway). And the whole place was painted a very cheery yellow!
Day 2 of Prague began with a fake breakfast of stroop waffles (from Amsterdam) and strawberries and then a real breakfast of apple strudel in Josefov, Prague's Jewish quarter. There are about half a dozen synagogues within a few blocks, so we got the general pass and went about being good Jewish tourists. The Maisel Synagogue had a great little Jewish museum, which taught us a bit about what we'd be seeing elsewhere; the Spanish Synagogue was possibly one of the most gorgeous interiors that I've ever seen in a shul, ever-- I wish I'd disobeyed the sign and taken pictures! So intricate and colorful on every possible surface, my lord. We did go to the Pinkas as well, though this interior no longer looks like a synagogue: the first couple of stories have been redone to bear the names of every Czech Jew killed during the Holocaust. The memorial is simple and effective, particularly when paired with an exhibit of children's art from the Terezin concentration camp upstairs. Outside of the Pinkas Synagogue, we looped around the old Jewish cemetery, marveling at the sheer number of burials there despite the relative lack of space. Some of the tombstones were so old as to be illegible; others had been replaced, with the originals in the Maisel museum. It was interesting to me that those we could read were totally in Hebrew-- no other languages the way you'd see at home. We peeked into the Old-New Synagogue (it had been the New Synagogue at one point, but then all the older ones were destroyed), which was very cool in its being the oldest operating temple in Europe.
Next, we headed back over the Charles Bridge, stopping to admire a guitar-playing marionette and the city's metronome on a not-so-distant hill. We took a very fun funicular train ride up Petrin Hill, which provided us with more amazing views, a fun little Hall of Mirrors at the top, and a lunch that included something called fried cheese on a bun. We walked down a long and winding road through hillside back to Hradcany to see the inside of St. Vitus Cathedral. The crypts were closed, apparently for technical reasons, but the Art Nouveau stained glass and a few really interesting altars were well worth the (free) price of admission and the (five-minute) wait in line to get in. Andy, navigator extraordinaire, walked us through a lovely more suburban area to get back to the subway; among other things, we passed by the Ministerstvo Obrany Czeche Republiky. I'm not sure what it was, exactly, but the place had more surveillance equipment out for the viewing on its lawn than we'd ever seen before.
Once back at the hostel, we picked up our bags, checked email (and Andy's finalized his flight to come visit me in April!), and caught our train to Vienna without too much hassle. We had some delicious soup on the train, discovered the Vienna subway system has security measures like Prague's, and found the Hotel Geblergasse fairly easily.
In short, Prague was great. I was astonished at how much food I found to like there, and I found the entire city to be essentially eye candy. Those vistas! The Spanish Synagogue. Wow.
Brussels wrapped up nicely, with Friday morning spent on one last academic assignment. In groups, we were sent to interview EU lobbyists; my group had a delightful British woman from Amnesty International, which made for a very interesting hour. I kind of want her job now-- it's a combination of lobbying, communications, and policy analysis. And Brussels would be a fabulous place to spend a year or two...although I'm definitely glad to be in Copenhagen for my semester abroad.
Once the study tour wrapped up, I hopped a plane to Vienna, where I was supposed to meet Andy for the night before heading to Prague early Saturday morning (it was cheaper to do it that way). I made good on the whole plan, but Andy missed his plane out of Gatwick and thus met me in Prague the next day. We were both a bit tired, but, armed with my awesome Rough Guide to Europe and a list of must-do's from my friend Carly who spent last spring there, we were nonetheless ready to take Prague by storm!
We started out on a big main street, Vaclavske Namesti, and immediately sampled trdlo (me), sugar-sprinkled bread baked wrapped around a rolling pin, and kloebasa (Andy), the apparent Czech answer to hot dogs. We wandered up a tower called St. Henry's for an amazing view of the inner city and quickly discovered why Prague is known for its 'thousand spires'-- though, to be fair, a lot of the things they count as spires are poking out of one large one, which I think is cheating a little bit. The tower also had a nifty bell tower and a small display on Prague's spires, many of which we closer contact with over the course of the weekend.
We wandered through a big square or two in Stare Mesto, the old town, doing much admiring of the architechture and the marionette shops that lined every street. I don't think I've ever seen so many souvenir shops in such a small area, let alone that many selling puppets! The Charles Bridge was our next stop, and we took our time crossing over the River Vltava. The view was amazing, to begin with-- I think that was the first point that I realized just how stunning Prague is. The whole city really ended up being eye candy for me. The bridge is also crawling with kiosks and things to look at. Andy was teasing me for stopping to peer at every jewelery stand, but, to be fair, he took a picture at the caricature booth of Jack Nicholson's head growing out of a foot with some flowers. There was also a fantastic five-man band playing up a storm and featuring a very talented and excellently goateed gentleman on the washboard.
Once over and in Hradcany (which we started calling 'Hard Candy'-- our Czech is awful bordering on nonexistent, so this sort of thing happened a lot), the wandering took us up a number of stairways and hills-- as if I hadn't been crisscrossing Brussels for the last three days in heels!--to loop around several gorgeous palaces and buildings. Schwarzenbersky Palac was my particular favorite; it was closed to visitors, but each individual brick on the outside was decorated and the overall effect was stunning. Next came the Prague Castle complex-- at this point, it was too late in the day for a tour, which ended up being fine with us-- where we took a few moments to appreciate the sheer size of it, what we thought was a Lenin statue (actually Prague's first president), and the exterior of St. Vitus Cathedral. Aside from being spectacular in the sense that many big, grand European cathedrals seem to be, St. Vitus also has a few gargoyles that, upon closer inspection, proved to be men sticking out their tongues.
We found a small and apparently one-way walking street, which led to more amazing views-- Hradcany is set into a hill, so wherever we were on that side of the river meant that you'd turn around and gasp. We stopped for crepes and hot wine (apparently a Czech thing) in a lovely little park-- the crepes were yummy, the wine resulted in an amusing series of pictures of Andy trashing it. The fooding continued from there, as neither of us had really had lunch; we split something that may be called smazyny syr that was sort of fried dough with garlic sauce, ketchup, and cheese on top. It sounded (and looked and smelled) more than a bit odd, but it was surprisingly good. This was topped off by a bit of risotto and Pilsner Urquell (another Czech thing--fortunately, their beer is far better than their wine) back in Stare Mesto. We headed back to the hostel after that. It was only about 8 or 9, but we'd both been up early to get there, and we'd done so much walking that bed was more than welcome. Plus, our hostel was in a totally different neighborhood, one that looks way more Soviet than the older parts of the city, so we got to "Czech" out a different look of the city and experience the subway system, which turned out to be very easy to use and to do so without buying tickets (which, for the record, we did anyway). And the whole place was painted a very cheery yellow!
Day 2 of Prague began with a fake breakfast of stroop waffles (from Amsterdam) and strawberries and then a real breakfast of apple strudel in Josefov, Prague's Jewish quarter. There are about half a dozen synagogues within a few blocks, so we got the general pass and went about being good Jewish tourists. The Maisel Synagogue had a great little Jewish museum, which taught us a bit about what we'd be seeing elsewhere; the Spanish Synagogue was possibly one of the most gorgeous interiors that I've ever seen in a shul, ever-- I wish I'd disobeyed the sign and taken pictures! So intricate and colorful on every possible surface, my lord. We did go to the Pinkas as well, though this interior no longer looks like a synagogue: the first couple of stories have been redone to bear the names of every Czech Jew killed during the Holocaust. The memorial is simple and effective, particularly when paired with an exhibit of children's art from the Terezin concentration camp upstairs. Outside of the Pinkas Synagogue, we looped around the old Jewish cemetery, marveling at the sheer number of burials there despite the relative lack of space. Some of the tombstones were so old as to be illegible; others had been replaced, with the originals in the Maisel museum. It was interesting to me that those we could read were totally in Hebrew-- no other languages the way you'd see at home. We peeked into the Old-New Synagogue (it had been the New Synagogue at one point, but then all the older ones were destroyed), which was very cool in its being the oldest operating temple in Europe.
Next, we headed back over the Charles Bridge, stopping to admire a guitar-playing marionette and the city's metronome on a not-so-distant hill. We took a very fun funicular train ride up Petrin Hill, which provided us with more amazing views, a fun little Hall of Mirrors at the top, and a lunch that included something called fried cheese on a bun. We walked down a long and winding road through hillside back to Hradcany to see the inside of St. Vitus Cathedral. The crypts were closed, apparently for technical reasons, but the Art Nouveau stained glass and a few really interesting altars were well worth the (free) price of admission and the (five-minute) wait in line to get in. Andy, navigator extraordinaire, walked us through a lovely more suburban area to get back to the subway; among other things, we passed by the Ministerstvo Obrany Czeche Republiky. I'm not sure what it was, exactly, but the place had more surveillance equipment out for the viewing on its lawn than we'd ever seen before.
Once back at the hostel, we picked up our bags, checked email (and Andy's finalized his flight to come visit me in April!), and caught our train to Vienna without too much hassle. We had some delicious soup on the train, discovered the Vienna subway system has security measures like Prague's, and found the Hotel Geblergasse fairly easily.
In short, Prague was great. I was astonished at how much food I found to like there, and I found the entire city to be essentially eye candy. Those vistas! The Spanish Synagogue. Wow.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Je parle en français!
Two days of Brussels have been very, very good to me. Wednesday morning, we spent about twice as long in line at NATO security thanks to some confusion with the group ahead of us. By the time I finally got through the metal detector, the guard was standing so close to it that he set the thing off. Once we finally got inside, the presentations--by an American diplomat and a NATO representative who hapened to be American--were quite good, and we learned lots about the organization's 21st century role in the world, which seems to have little to do with Russia and more to do with overlapping with the EU as a world security/peacekeeping force. The downside (besies the long wait) was that all we got to see of the building was a random conference room-- no offices, no big fancy meeting chamber or anything, which was kind of disappointing. (Amusingly enough, I think our security clearance may not have been high enough.)
After a quick lunch in the city's Europan Quarter, we got to wander around the European Parliament for a while (the building was practically abandoned, as the members are in Strausborg for the week), including watching a few (albeit uninteresting) votes (by a different committee that was using the space). We had a bit of downtime at the hotel (very necessary after that early morning), a lovely group dinner (several people enjoyed actual mussels from Brussels), and more wanderings, which took us to the famous Café Delirium, holder of the Guiness World Record for the number of beers it has on tap (something like 2000 kinds, all local Belgian microbreweries).
Today brought two of the more interesting presentations: one by cabinet member of the Danish European Commissioner's office (ask me questions about the EU agricultural policy!) and one by a higher-up in the eschelons of command surrounding the EU's foreign policy, which, as I said, seems to overlap quite a bit with NATO's. In between, a fez of us did some serious walknig and sightseeing, which was way more fun during the day, and we feel like we've really been able to see a lot of the city. Plus, I got to bust out my high school French over lunch, and I'm remembering a lot more than I'd expected. (Someone should tell Mr. Warsaw for me...)
I should hop off the computer now-- there's a bit of a line. Tomorrow's our last day here, so my next update will likely be from Vienna or Prague...stay tuned!
After a quick lunch in the city's Europan Quarter, we got to wander around the European Parliament for a while (the building was practically abandoned, as the members are in Strausborg for the week), including watching a few (albeit uninteresting) votes (by a different committee that was using the space). We had a bit of downtime at the hotel (very necessary after that early morning), a lovely group dinner (several people enjoyed actual mussels from Brussels), and more wanderings, which took us to the famous Café Delirium, holder of the Guiness World Record for the number of beers it has on tap (something like 2000 kinds, all local Belgian microbreweries).
Today brought two of the more interesting presentations: one by cabinet member of the Danish European Commissioner's office (ask me questions about the EU agricultural policy!) and one by a higher-up in the eschelons of command surrounding the EU's foreign policy, which, as I said, seems to overlap quite a bit with NATO's. In between, a fez of us did some serious walknig and sightseeing, which was way more fun during the day, and we feel like we've really been able to see a lot of the city. Plus, I got to bust out my high school French over lunch, and I'm remembering a lot more than I'd expected. (Someone should tell Mr. Warsaw for me...)
I should hop off the computer now-- there's a bit of a line. Tomorrow's our last day here, so my next update will likely be from Vienna or Prague...stay tuned!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
J'aime les gauffres!
Bonjour aux Bruxelles!
The study tour is off to a great start, and now I know I definitely need to get back to Holland at some point. We got there Sunday night after a long drive from Copenhagen, which included a ferry and two unhappy Danish films (for having the happiest citizens in the world, that does seem to be the only kind of movie they make). Upon arrival, we enjoyed dinner at a local Thai place (yes, Mom and Dad, I ate Thai!) and spent the evening exploring the town center. Monday started delightfully late, with a meeting with a University of Amsterdam professor on the Dutch veto of the proposed EU constitution a few years ago. After lunch, we took a canal tour in the rain-- fortunately, the boats are glassed in and heated, so we didn't miss out on too much, including photo opportunities. We also did the Van Gogh (apparently pronounced Van Gock?) Museum, which involved getting slightly lost with my friend Carrie on the way back to the hotel, and a fantastic three-course meal at a place called Simpel. Yum! A bunch of us hung with the trip leaders afterwards-- they're both pretty young and pretty great, so that was fun, too.
Tuesday dawned much earlier than Monday, and it took us to the Hague, where we passed through security into the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY). A prosecutor there from Dallas gave us a talk explaining their operation, which was quite interesting. Most of the guys they have on trial everyone pretty much knows are definite war criminals, it seems, so a lot of the challenge lies in making that into a fair, balanced, and valid legal argument, which gets interesting because this tribunal is the first court of its kind since Nuremberg. After the talk, we actually got to watch the proceedings for one case for a bit. We listened to a man testify in Serbo-Croatian (with simultaneous translation--it was odd hearing this big Slavic guy speak in a British woman's voice) about his detainment and torture at the hands of soliders who answered to an uninterested but smirking guy sitting just a few yards and one glass panel away from me. Very creepy.
After a quick bus ride and a screening of Dr. Strangelove (!), we reached Brussels, met with Denmark's permanent representative to the EU Commission (the legislature, or sorts), and then had a free evening. I wandered extensively with a group of five or so. We dined on crêpes and Belgian waffles and marveled over every church and fancy building we could find, and believe me, there are a lot. Also, only two of us knew any French, which was kind of fun for me. We loved how a city so utterly different from dear Copenhagen could be equally awesome, if more grandiose.
This morning, we have a really early start, as apparently NATO security takes forever to go through. Au revoir, mes amis!
The study tour is off to a great start, and now I know I definitely need to get back to Holland at some point. We got there Sunday night after a long drive from Copenhagen, which included a ferry and two unhappy Danish films (for having the happiest citizens in the world, that does seem to be the only kind of movie they make). Upon arrival, we enjoyed dinner at a local Thai place (yes, Mom and Dad, I ate Thai!) and spent the evening exploring the town center. Monday started delightfully late, with a meeting with a University of Amsterdam professor on the Dutch veto of the proposed EU constitution a few years ago. After lunch, we took a canal tour in the rain-- fortunately, the boats are glassed in and heated, so we didn't miss out on too much, including photo opportunities. We also did the Van Gogh (apparently pronounced Van Gock?) Museum, which involved getting slightly lost with my friend Carrie on the way back to the hotel, and a fantastic three-course meal at a place called Simpel. Yum! A bunch of us hung with the trip leaders afterwards-- they're both pretty young and pretty great, so that was fun, too.
Tuesday dawned much earlier than Monday, and it took us to the Hague, where we passed through security into the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY). A prosecutor there from Dallas gave us a talk explaining their operation, which was quite interesting. Most of the guys they have on trial everyone pretty much knows are definite war criminals, it seems, so a lot of the challenge lies in making that into a fair, balanced, and valid legal argument, which gets interesting because this tribunal is the first court of its kind since Nuremberg. After the talk, we actually got to watch the proceedings for one case for a bit. We listened to a man testify in Serbo-Croatian (with simultaneous translation--it was odd hearing this big Slavic guy speak in a British woman's voice) about his detainment and torture at the hands of soliders who answered to an uninterested but smirking guy sitting just a few yards and one glass panel away from me. Very creepy.
After a quick bus ride and a screening of Dr. Strangelove (!), we reached Brussels, met with Denmark's permanent representative to the EU Commission (the legislature, or sorts), and then had a free evening. I wandered extensively with a group of five or so. We dined on crêpes and Belgian waffles and marveled over every church and fancy building we could find, and believe me, there are a lot. Also, only two of us knew any French, which was kind of fun for me. We loved how a city so utterly different from dear Copenhagen could be equally awesome, if more grandiose.
This morning, we have a really early start, as apparently NATO security takes forever to go through. Au revoir, mes amis!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Jeg skal til Europe!
Well, less than 12 hours from now, I'm on a bus (yes, unfortunately, bus) to Amsterdam! The grand Spring Break 2008 tour, as scheduled, is thus:
Amsterdam (3/9-3/11): With the DIS European Politics & Society program, we'll be meeting with folks from the university, taking a canal tour, and perusing the Van Gogh Museum. The Anne Frank House may or may not happen, but at least we'll have the nights free!
The Hague (3/11): International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia
Brussels: (3/11-3/14): All things EU, NATO, and chocolate (we're touring a factory!)
Prague (3/15-3/16): With Andy! My Brown friend Carly, who studied there last semester, gave me a whole list of places to go and see and eat.
Vienna (3/17-3/18): We welcome any traveling tips you might want to leave in a comment!
Liechtenstein (3/19): Mostly to say we've been there. Not sure what their currency is.
Luzerne (3/20), Grindelwald (3/21), and Geneva (3/21-3/22): Switzerland, the Alps, lakes, snow, and more chocolate!
Russia (3/23-3/29): With DIS again, to Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Novgorod. I'm very excited, although they unnerved me a bit at the info session by telling us, essentially, to bribe policemen, pay to hitchhike, and not to worry about the not-potable water for showering, because it's not like you'll change color or anything.
In any case, that's my travel plan in a nutshell! I'm not sure how much Internet access I'll have over the next few weeks, but I'll try to update if I can. Either way, expect a very long post three weeks from now!
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Jeg drikke chai på Café Retro
I thought I'd take a break from writing a paper about the development of agriculture in Europe (the broadest topic ever assigned for a five-page paper ever, even if the pages are A4-sized) and report on my current surroundings.
I discovered this week that, in the 24 hours between my Sunday Baresso reading session and my Monday Baresso pit stop before my Human Rights in Africa class, prices on everything there had gone up. The change only equates to about 20¢, but that's on top of a drink that already costs way more than it really should, particularly given its addictiveness. Fortunately, this unfortunate revelation (which, according to a Dane in said Human Rights in Africa class, may be part of a food-pricing conspiracy among some of the big producers that's being investigated) coincided with the discovery that the lots-of-local-flavor, non-profit, charity-supporting Café Retro is not only a great study space, it also has equally amazing chai lattés-- and its biggest size is still cheaper than en lille chai-cino at Baresso. I'm sold.
Café Retro itself is a really great space. Dimly lit-- lots of hyggelit candles and hanging ceiling fixtures-- with squashy couches and chairs and barstools, plus tables of all sorts (including foosball), the downstairs has textured red wallpaper, funky retro clothing for sale, and bathrooms with English quotes from mostly-English-speaking luminaries. The bar has coffee drinks, alcoholic beverages, and food (Jen and I shared nachos yesterday, and at some point I'm so going for the vegetable tapas trio) that, for Denmark at least, is reasonably priced. The upstairs has an open center overlooking the ground floor, a meditation room, and more couches and things. Apparently there's live music on weekends, too. In any case, as far as I can tell, it's a mostly local hangout-- we actually met an American guy here yesterday who was astonished to hear people speaking in English--which makes it that much more awesome. And, like most of the other awesome locales, it's within easy walking distance of home.
I feel that I've spent an oddly large amount of time and thought and love here on the chai, to the point that my roommates are now (lovingly, they assure me) referring to study time with tea at a coffee shop as "pulling an Alli." Can I help it if I like the café culture and really like this one drink that everyone in Denmark seems to be able to make better than Starbucks?
Monday, March 3, 2008
Jeg er meget øm.
I actually specifically asked my Danish teacher this morning how to say "I'm sore," as we were practicing dialogues about maladies and things anyway.
For anyone considering taking up Thai Bo in the near future, be advised: ow. I'd seen my gym holding classes before and it had looked fun, so I dropped into Sunday morning's session before hitting the books (it's midterms week at DIS for everyone). The class itself was fairly fun in an "I don't think I've ever sweat so much voluntarily" sort of way-- lots of bouncing and jab-punches-- and felt like a great workout. But then I woke up this morning and my upper back and shoulders are not happy with me. Taking off my peacoat has been quite the experience today, let me tell you, as was sitting comfortably during my Russian history test.
On the upside, my work seems to be in decent shape, as does my thesis proposal for Brown, which is due in a month. And I posted more photos, including those from last weekend in Cambridge! Enjoy!
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Til Dansk Røde Kors Asylafdeling og Club Mambo
This week I had two very interesting cultural experiences that had very little to do with Danishness.
Wednesday, my Migrants, Minorities, and Multiculturalism class went to the Danish Red Cross Asylum Center headquarters. See, the state of Denmark employs the Røde Kors to run its asylum centers, which are home (plus school and community center and soup kitchen and various other things) to would-be immigrants to Denmark live while their applications for asylum are processed. Which, in most cases, become some indeterminate period of time because when 90-plus percent of their applications are turned down but they refuse to return to their countries of origin. And most of the countries of origin in question don't exactly have an extradition agreement with Denmark just now, as they're Iraq, Afghanistan, and the like. So the asylum seekers stay at the centers for years, until they manage to get actual permission to be somewhere or Denmark manages to get an extradition agreement out of the country of origin, which would send however many quasi-resettled people back to a war zone, albeit one that according to EU standards isn't a state that's actively prosecuting them as individuals.
We spoke in small groups to a few men, from Iraq and Algeria. Norell and I questioned Salim, a middle-aged Iraqi who left the country for Jordan with his family in 2002 after repeatedly being taken in for interrogations. He had a history of being involved with the Communists, but it sounded like the Baathists mostly didn't like his active brother and uncle, who both managed to get out, too. Salim's family stayed in Jordan while he tried to get into Denmark properly, which he couldn't (see above), and the situation didn't change at all after the 2003 invasion. His wife and children are now living in San Diego, so he's trying to get there, but in the meantime he hasn't seem them in years and has had only limited communication with them because of the distance.
The others' stories aren't that much different. The employees and volunteers we met at the center seemed to do their level best to give the residents (plenty of whom are women and children (unaccompanied in many cases), though most are male and single, apparently) a meaningful life and activities and education and so forth, but when you're caught in political limbo for seven years...
We had a short talk-back as a class after the meetings, and we were all surprised at this sort of "dark side" of the wondrous Danish welfare state we've heard so much about, which seems to be a recurring theme when it comes to questions of migrants and integration. Denmark is an incredibly ethnically homogenous state (something like 90% of people are Danish Danes, if you will) that didn't even really have immigration until the 1970s. Looking at their immigration policy, you can see that the state really just wants everyone to be Danish. Religious freedom and laws against discrimination are there, of course, but so are pledges to conform to certain standards and learn Danish language and culture and so forth. It's an interesting if not quite successful approach; see international headlines about Denmark from the last few weeks if you think a policy like that might be working. (Hint: it's not. Ethnic Danes aren't the ones burning cars and blowing up tanning salons. It's also unfortunate that the mostly-Muslim immigrant youth are living up to some stereotypes.)
On an entirely different note, Dara and I spent an hour or so last night at Club Mambo, which is a salsa club not far from home. It was fun (if slightly awkward)! Neither of us really knows how to salsa, which prompted a pair of friendly Latin American guys to intervene. One was from Ecuador and one from Argentina; they both work for Mærsk in Panama and were here for training. Good times, nothing too strange, and we looked slightly less silly than we might've on our own.
Tonight, after a day of working (this upcoming week is pre-spring break midterm craziness for everyone), Dara and I attempted to see "Juno" (in English with Danish subtitles) but due to some confusions that I won't get into, we ended up at "Things We Lost In The Fire." Which was good, but less merry. On the upside, we can now check "See a movie at the 'candy palace'" off of our ever-shortening to-do list!
God nat, all.
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