The Riot

Left day to early.. Eyes still half closed as I headed to the airport at 5 in the morning, they were widened as the train went over a large Avenue to see the longest line of sirens, at least 2 miles long, speeding down the road. These were all police, fire, and ambulance vehicles heading to my old neighborhood for the May 1st riot. The riot is the annual event where the Punks and the Nazis go to kill each other but end up just fighting their common enemy: the Police.

Obituary: Tresor

A tragic event has passed in Berlin. On the 15th of April the Tresor closed. Tresor: the trusted carrier of the Berlin’s house music torch was a club whose main dance floor was an old, dark, moist, rusted-out vault that stank of sweat, cigarettes, weed, and artificial fog, whose sole strobe light and master DJ’s had the ability to turn anyone who entered it a dancing zombie. People would dance endlessly only freeing themselves from the grip by crashing up a narrow staircase that led to a quit garden where the madness below seemed to be only a gentle, relaxing hum.

Tresor was born in a city that was lost without direction; a newly united Berlin that was full of expectation with the fall of the wall and in need of ways to express altruistic jubilee. It was a place where young people came together in the bombed out shell of old Berlin to learn how it was on the other side and together participate in something new and out of this environment house music found its base. For much of the next fifteen years the club’s pulsating music pushed life blood through out Berlin and Germany on its course of unification. Despite political defences claiming the hardships of the integration between East and West, reunification is complete. The differences between what was the DDR and GDR are still bold but there is only Germany. Thus Tresor in the end pulsated only as historical monument to the day when German showed the world how reconciliations could be won.

Clouds again begin to form over Berlin. Eager to move forward, some of the past and with it direction is being forgotten. Tresor has been slated to go the same way as the former GDR parliament building, making room for new development. Development that has lost its direction and the support of the people while they begin to fret over an expanding Europe and fear a future that they can not choose: displayed by the building of one empty building after another. Today Euro fear has risen to see the re-emergence of the National Socialists Party with a rising National Democratic Party. The German people like much of Western Europe fear loosing there culture to immigration and the influence of ideals that are not their own. All this is further fuelled by an unemployment rate in Berlin reaching hire than 20%.

The cause for excitement of unification still exists and with it the jobs that build the future. Berlin: take pleasure, in your past, in your diversity and with it forge the future, but keep your monument to the past as a means to help map the way. Tresor was a living monument and marked a time in Berlin, Germany, Europe and the World that should not be forgotten.

Stuttgart

Last night out in Stuttgart with Eli and Kirst: English Birds. It is sad to say goodbye but what better place than the spring fair. A fair in Germany would remind you of that anywhere in the world, just with a German flair: over priced rides operated by shady looking carnies on which half the trill is provided by the fact that it has not been properly maintained since 1934. The German touch is nice however: Bratwursts and beer. In the middle of the fair grounds is a large barn. In Kansas this barn would be filled with prize livestock, here it is filled with endless rows of picnic tables, a German folk band, and hundreds of locals swing liter steins back and forth in the air drunk out of there gord on a Saturday afternoon.

It also must be mentioned that I believe English is more closely related to German than Schwebish, the local accent around Stuttgart.

GPoD: I’m sorry but I can not understand a word you are saying! – Entschuldigen Sie mich bitte, aber ich nicht habe verstanden.

St. Petersburg

Sadly my visa to Russia did not come through in time. I’ll have to wait until next trip!


RPoD: Poca Poca - Hello

Marseille

It takes only 3 hours to get from Paris to Marseille by train - 410 miles or 659.69 Kilometres – average speed 136 mph or 220 kph. Marseille is a Mediterranean city which means it was nice! My friends Allaoui - your standard crazy, French, Muslim, football fanatic, black man - and Lionel both live in there. Allaoui lives in the coolest part of town. It is very old and historic and would be million dollar property if was not so, so, so old that the plaster falls of the walls. The highlight of Marseille besides visiting my friends that taught me to appreciate soccer was spending the day in the projects with a youth group that Allaoui works with. They told me I was the first American to visit there neighbourhood, it was pretty funny, and were eager to show of there English “Hello how are you”, and “My name is…” As it turns out my soccer skills are about equivilant to ten year old level.

FPoD: Hello my name is Will. – Bonjour, Je m'appelle Will:
How are you? - Ça va?

Paris

Paris is my favourite European city. It is every thing it is cracked up to be and more! More being so much more F’n expensive! A lit story of dinner: 10€ for a meal with salad, entrée and desert - great deal by Paris standards. Almost ordered a half litter of beer as well, having been out of Germany and without for 5 days, but fortunately glanced at the price before ordering to find that it cost 8€. As a self respecting Berliner I will not pay over 3€ for the best stein of beer.

Although enough with the bad. I loved Paris, and even liked the Parisians. Attended good party where I got an earful about the superiority of French wine. Again saw good friends; Julie, Latitia, Latitita(2) and Clarissa. Clarissa My old dormmate, personal German tutor, and good friend also took upon herself to crash me in French. Always more fun when you can communicate in the local language. Again I must say I dug Paris.

Mr. Nordgren(high school English and history teacher): eat your hear out I have now not only been to the place where “Wuthering Heights” was set but the palace of Versailles as well!

Gossip from Paris:
Julie dumped boy friend
Latitia (see Willem from Amsterdam)



FW/P/SoD


Oui
Non
à gauche
à droite
tout droit

J'a vousdrie..
…une bière s'il vous plaît
…pour payer

Je parle seulement un petit français.

Savez-vous où à le metor ?

--
Alouette, gentille Alouette Alouette je te plumerai Alouette, gentille Alouette Alouette je te plumerai Je te plumerai la tête Je te plumerai la tête Et la tête, et la tête Alouette, Alouette O-o-o-o-oh Alouette, gentille Alouette Alouette je te plumerai
--
Je ne veux pas travailler,
Je ne veux pas déjeuner,
Je veux seulement l'oublier,
Et puis je fume.

zéro
un
deux
trois
quatre
cinq
six
sept
huit
neuf
dix
onze
douze
treize
quatorze
quinze
seize
dix-sept
dix-huit
dix-neuf
vingt
trente
quarante
quarante et un
cinquante
soixante
soixante-dix
quatre-vingts
cent
deux cents
deux cent un
mille
un million
un milliard

Amsterdam

I return to the land where everyone is tall, and rides a bicycle. Amsterdam sounds like no other city in the world: the entire city clatters. Trams kling with hammers against their wheels to get pedestrians out of the way, at the same time also giving of metallic sounds of the wheels scraping along the track. Bicycles also ring bells demanding attention. Every time one hits a bump you here the frame or the chain guard hit. But most of all Amsterdam is over whelmed with the sound of peddles and bike chains. How is it possible to have so many bikes! Every thing that you can imagine chaining a bike to has at least three of them fixed to it, every thing that is except the junkies who are out to steal them.

This was my second trip to Amsterdam, but a new experience. I did not return to Heineken Museum, not that I did not want to, but pushed aside to the things I did not do last time. And, no, that was not a hooker in the red light district, but to go Van Gogh Museum (a personal favorite) and Reichs Museum. I also got to visit many friends who live in the area; Chang Lang, Willem, Vincent, Mira, and Juliana.

GPoD: Is this a staircase or a ladder? - Ist diese ein Treppenflur oder ein Leite?

PS Dutch is not that hard when you speak English and German, if you can just get over CH( make sound by trying to loosen the deepest piece of flem in your throat).

Gossip from Amsterdam:

Chang dumped her fiancé
Willem has nothing nice to say about Latitia.

Venice

Iit was only a short way from Trieste, so we took a day trip to Venice. And the verdict: I can only counting the days till Venice sinks. Don’t get me wrong, it is a very beautiful city, but it will be a small price to pay to take all the vendors, panhandlers, and swindling store owners with it. If you go to Venice spend more than a day, and be sure and pack more than one lunch.

GPoD: My god, this place is expensive! - Mein Gott, diese platz ist teurer!

Trieste

From Croatia we went to visit Oliver’s home in Trieste. Sadly did not get to visit his whole family, Oliver and his parents were not at home, but we did get hang out with his brother Alessandro.

Trieste provided a sharp change in life style from Croatia. One day sleeping under the stars, the next soft beds, and concentrating on finding the best cup of espresso in the morning, the best place to eat tapas for lunch, and what fine wine to drink for dinner. We repeatedly went to Alessandro’s favourite wine bar and would spend hours, sampling different cheese, pershutos, and of course wine.

The last night the owner of the wine bar, Alessandro’s friend Luke, got a little bit tipsy. Luke closed thirty minutes after we arrived at 9:30, but we had just opened the first bottle and were forbidden to rush through it so we stayed a little later. The first call from Luke’s girlfriend came at 11pm, and he explained that his last customers were just finishing and would be home shortly. The second bottle was opened shortly there after. This was followed in an hour by another phone call which was followed by another bottle. Next came the Champaign, which to my worry and amazement was opened, cork, foil, wire tie, and all, with one swipe of a sword employed by a half drunk Luke. A phone call followed. At this point Luke was three sheets to the wind having been enjoying rum drinks between the three glasses of wine. He began repeatedly walking up to Tim, enquiring if he liked “Fucking,” and when Tim would say yes, slap him on the back and decree: “Good, then you are my friend!” The last phone call came as I was scouring through bar in search of olives and other Italian bar snacks, Tim was receiving the tenth back slap, and the others were dancing to the latest euro-trash-dance-hits behind and on the bar. The music stopped and Luke announced that everyone had to leave; now. We asked what we owed, he said, “come back and pay tomorrow.” It was 3am and we were being rushed out the door. We were not a block down the street before the lovingly loud voice of his girlfriend could be heard coming from the other direction. Now I don’t speak Italian but, I can guess what “Bastito” means.

GPoD: Open up the dog house. – Öffnen der Hundehütte!

Croatia

It came to pass that I was homeless, at the end of my legal stay and nearly broke in Berlin. I asked myself what would be the best to resolve the situation. The answer, as I often choose it these days: to travel! Three birds: one stone. I would be happy not to be wasting all that money on rent while travelling. As I could not be bothered to pay 50€ for an EU visa, I have to leave the EU every 3 month and renter for another round. Best of all when man heads east out of the EU things seem to get considerably cheaper.

Having had far too much winter, I went online to find the cheapest most southern destination I could find. Low and behold what should my wandering bones discover but a 40€ flight to Croatia! So off we were; “we” includes my friend Tim who had followed Tina to Germany and also needed to leave Berlin having lived with her and her family for a month. Tina came with us for the phase 1 of Croatia. This original portion of trip was more your classical vacation, sitting eating out and sleeping with roofs over head.

On Saturday morning we put Tina on a bus toward Germany after spending the night in a luxurious hotel that was reminiscent of a bombed out communist high-rise. So we were again off with renewed anticipation. Over the next week we were going to follow the coast north and walk to Trieste. As it turned out we started our walk from the coliseum in Pula, and finished just short of Slovenia. This was still a commendable as we covered nearly 150 km. The worst parts of this walk was made along the shoulder of the highways, good sections led us along empty country roads, better sections followed narrow trails, and the best involved no trail at all. It was in the latter that I lost my jacket and a few other clothing items; pick pocketed by dense thorn bushes. As it turned out I did not want these items, as I was not about to begin to try and backtrack: now only happy to have the lightened load. It was a good time camping, not only because we were stealth camping – not so much public camping ground in Croatia. We would eat meals of bread, cheese, canned fish, and wine in the evening and then stop in for seaside cups of coffee the next day. What a vacation!

GPoD: Oh, 150€ for a small tent! Do you know where to buy a blue tarp and twine? - Doch, 150€ für ein Zelt! Kennen Sie wo man ein Blau Tarp und Seil kann kaufen?

Eviction Party

On March 1st I became officially homeless in Europe. To celebrate this monumental occasion I threw a party to make sure that all the neighbors would miss me. During the party I was glad to initiate such fun activates as bowling down the long corridor that was my bathroom with a basketball and empty beer bottles or who could eat the most burnt cakes eating contests. The next morning I was pained to fielded complaints from neighbors, clean up broken glass in the bathroom, and sweep the food out of every corner of the kitchen.

GPoD: So you’re threatening to report the problem to the landlord huh?

Helsinki

Being that is only a quick jump north across the Baltic Sea to reach Finland from Tallinn: why not? The Finish dig their modern architecture and modern interior design. Helsinki is: clean, friendly, easy, safe, and well-off. Boring! Nice place to raise the family, but not much going on from the cultural side. Maybe there is more going on outside the coldest darkest time of the year?

Almost forgot to mention, the boat ride. Friday night me and Alex had spent the night dancing with the lovely locals and thus did not have the energy to leave our bed before noon, the boat left at 1PM. We mad it no problem, but something was amiss. Upon boarding the ferry we were greeted by hundreds of drunken finish youths that crowded every open space in a large boat! In an effort to ignore them we took large steps over people laying in the hall, and found a large empty room in which to resume our rest for the duration of the trip. The room, I though was some sort of lounge. I was wrong. Thirty minutes into my sleep I was abruptly awoken by loud Euro-trash-dance and to my amazement in filed 500 fifteen to eighteen year olds for the dance party. I watched in amazement. Upon arrival the drunk youth all filed of the boat most with between 1 and 10 cases of duty free beer, and were of to visit there local customs official. Wow!

GPoD: What is going on here? - Was ist hier los?

Tallinn

Tallinn is the oldest city in Europe, supposedly. While the oldness is very QUAINT (travel book word of the day) it is not what makes it so interesting. More interesting is the locals idea of, “F the commi bastards!” James Bond has more love for Russians than the sum of the good feelings of the entire population of the Baltic States towards the east, times ten! In fact, during the Second World War the Nazi’s where viewed as welcome liberators from the USSR. This feeling resounds through out much of the former soviet block countries and can still be heard today as one country after another finds new ways to wave the bird in an easterly direction. Good soups and fish dishes as well, not to mention hotties.

GPoD: We hate Russia – Wir hassen Russland!

Köln

The carnival mystery is solved! Kay and Jill, one a native hick and one a native kraut, invited me to there parent’s house in Köln. For all of you without an “Ö” key on your keyboard that’s Cologne. It turns out that carnival is a long party for martigra, which only gets good in the last days. In the end though you sin up until Fat Tuesday, which has a different name in every country, Pancake Tuesday in England for example, and then Wednesday is the beginning of lent. I could only handle only one day of all day drinking and repeated singing of “Lieber Kölnia”, so I missed the grand finally, but got to visit much of the surrounding and historical areas of Köln.

GPoD: Ich Liebe Kölnia – I love Cologne

New Years

Just so you can see just how far behind I am. So I will make it fast: New Years was great in Berlin. Every once in while the German folk come out of there normal inhibited, every thing must be careful and planed shells and head to the streets to set off large fireworks in crowded areas.

GPoD: Now this is my idea of fun! – Jetzt, dass ist meine Idee des Spaßes!

Sorry About the Delay

Ok having had a hard couple of months with school I once again find myself able to dedicate valuable time to blogging.

Lets see were did we leave off.... ah York.

The good news was that trouble, Eli, left the next day. The bad news was that yours truly was in the back seat of the car in which she left. We were of to the lake district. On what would have normally been a lovely drive down winding lanes across the English country side, and this is literally across because we crossed the entire country in just a few hours, I felt ill as if on a small boat in a squall. I did get to view the Wuthering Heights House: still think the book stinks. Don't know what the characters had to get so worked up about, it actually seemed like a very nice area to live.

Upon arriving in the lake district Eli's grandparents were so kind as to greet us with a full meal on the table including beers. Nice gesture, but head still spinning from the car ride I thought I was going to be sick all over the table. Manged to hold a appreciative smile on my face as we ate. Then to a fairy across Lake Windermere. A full English experience involving wind, rain, but nice views only slightly obscured by fog.
Then after a cup of tea we were of again! This time to Manchester. A beer in the pub with Si and Kirsty (who almost could not be arsed(bothered) to drive ten minutes to visit me - would have been unforgiven, still a bit of hard feelings for the near miss), a bit of sleep and on a plane back to Berlin.


GPoD Die Eniglish sind alle nicht wirklich schlecht. - The English are not really all bad. (It should be noted that because of English - German relations this phrase doses not actually exist in German)

York

Having worn the welcome from my family in London paper thin I ventured north. My good friend Alex and his family foolishly had extend the olive branch, so away I went.

When I would tell people that I was planning to go to York the general response was something like, "Great, nice historic town." To this I would shrug my shoulders and say "I guess so" thinking there would be an old street or two. When I showed up to find that I could not enter the city because there was a large wall in the way and would have to go down to the main gate I was a little bit, in aw! I can not try to describe the town of York so you'll just have to wait for photos.

The Winstanley family was very welcoming, even had the fire going when I arrived. The meals were plentiful and tasty(photo is of excitement over roast not distaste). This was enough to make a Kansas boy feel at home but then there was the bed being pulled back every night, a glass of water and Advil on the nightstand, wow.

Things to do while in York:

1. Stay with the WInstanleys.
2. Walk around the city walls.
3. Take the dog for a walk on the marshy race grounds.
4. See the Minster.
5. Drink in a pub that is twice as old as your county.

For the first few days I had proudly left the aspirin untouched, then came Eli. We went out for drink and dancing. Having over indulged in both I found myself in need of the aspirin on the last day. Although I can proudly say that my dancing was in such rare form that the bouncer had to ask me on three separate occasions to, “Please put the lady’s feet back on the floor.”

GPoD: Massenhysterie kommt mit Eli! - With Eli comes mass hysteria!

Upon arriving Alex showed me his new phone that his service provider gave to him as a way of saying thank you for taking your English calling plan phone to Germany with you and continuing to use it as if you were making local calls. I am very jealous, coolest phone ever!

Plymouth

After a few days in London we headed down to Plymouth to spend Christmas with the in-laws. At this point I think I should clarify exactly how I am related to the family that I went to visit.

The man I refer to as Uncle Tony, in London is actually my dad's cousin and his daughter, referred to as my cousin, is I don't know what with relation to me. We share the same great grandmother, but even so we have grown up as immediate family so that's what we are. As for the family of my "uncle's" second wife in Plymouth: I don't think I can stretch it that far.

Despite the fact that I was a stranger in their mist the family was very welcoming. They had even thoughtfully wrapped up a box of After Eights for me. As to the trip a bonus I got to see; Stonehenge (the car was slowed to 40mph so I could stick my camera out the window), the place where a famous guy was confidently bowling during the defeat of the Spanish Armada, the place where my ancestors set off for the great land now known as America, and some pretty country side with cliffs and big hedges. On the down side I was utterly put to shame in the celebrity name games played with the family.

GPoD: Auch, ein anderen regnerisch Tag? - Oh, another rainy day?

A note to the English for future reference: "Me" is not possessive pronoun! And sentences like, "How 'bout a little more tee fur me cup," are just plain silly.