The Wonders of Berlin (pt. I)

It's my fifth day in Berlin. It's amazing how my traveling experience changed once I was alone. Everything requires more courage to initiate. There's no one to turn to when I feel confused, and no one to laugh at my foreign blunders as I stumble clumsily around the city. I feel conspicuous with a backpack and camera, acutely aware of potential faux pas (faux passé?) and preemptively embarrassed of the ones I know I've already committed unknowingly.

However, the values of moving at my own pace make it worthwhile. There is time for introspection, opportunities to stop and gape with vacant abandon, slack-jawed with no nagging thoughts of group cohesion to interrupt my stupor. (This is not meant to cast a poor light on my travelling companions, who are a marvelous group.)

Today, on a whim, I decided to shell out 6 euros for a trip to one of Berlin's museums, the Pergamon. (I am aware that this sounds like a Pokemon.) After bumbling about the city's (excellent and timely) subway system, turning up at the entrance was a relief. I was surprised by its size--German architecture frequently opts for overbearing intimidation, and Pergamon was no exception.

I had reflected, as I was departing my domicile, that lunchtime would be an ideal time to arrive. Tourists and the culturally minded would be otherwise occupied by Berlin's excellent culinary attractions, leaving the museum relatively uncrowded. Sadly, I was mistaken: The entrance line stretched across half of the plaza, and the half hour that followed was spent jealously watching various school groups enter the museum uninhibited, often composed of teenaged students already looking bored.

I've been to a fair few museums, including Berlin's own museum of natural history the day before, and often find the content to be underwhelming, or something I had already known. The Pergamon was different.

After a surprise 50% student discount and a free audio tour (I was already thrilled with these developments), I entered the entrance hall (hurrhurr). I don't generally consider myself the sort of person who gasps, yet there I was, staring at the Pergamon acropolis temple with my jaw on the floor--the the first gasp of many.

Germany has had a highly active archeological scene, particularly considering its roles in both World Wars and the Cold one. Its archeologists have painstakingly recreated much of the Greek frieze from the Pergamon's previously shattered remains to a stunning extent. This recreation in Berlin was just as impressive as the acropolis in Athens.

In just the next room was the Market Gate of Miletus. Cue another gasp. Despite having been heavily damaged in WWII, plaster casts and patient work restored the facade to its prior 17m tall glory.

When first perusing the tourist pamphlet I had received from Wombat's (the hostel I've been staying at), the summary of the Pergamon claimed the entire Ishtar Gate was on display--all 120m of it. While this is incorrect, I still (surprise!) gasped when, in the next room, a healthy percentage of it had been reconstructed. Don't get me wrong, I love the austere (and historically false) white marble of Greek architecture. However, the brilliant cobalt of the Ishtar gate is simply stunning on another level entirely.

Fair warning: I intend to spend the rest of this post extolling the museum's many virtues. If you don't want to hear about it, skip to the bottom now.

I foolishly neglected to take a picture of the model. Here's
a neat illustration instead.

You are, astoundingly, still reading. In that case, we'll go to the next room, which had many more millennia old artifacts from Babylon. The exhibit included a model of the Tower of Babel, which looks like something Sauron would be proud to live in. I was under the impression scholars had no idea what it actually looked like, but the audio tour corrected me: they're simply not solid on the details. Ancient Mesopotamian architecture looks like it was lifted directly out of the shadow of Mount Doom. (can you tell I've been into Lord of the Rings lately?)

Babylonian relics sufficiently examined and goggled at, I moved on to the display of Islamic art. Despite the sheer majestic weight of the gates, it was this section of the museum that impressed me the most.

I am now obsessed with Islamic textiles. In climate-controlled glass cases, within stiflingly dry rooms, lay centuries-old pages of the Koran. Exquisite illustrations and incredible calligraphy. Intricately detailed leather and gold that was literally woven into the pages. Until now, and despite my intellectual acknowledgement of the contrary, I've had a habit of viewing history in black and white. In my mind, this mental image paired well with my perception of the past's simplicity. The riot of colors in Islamic art have finally succeeded in changing my perceptions. The complexity and vibrancy of the artwork are striking. 

One of the most truly astonishing displays was the improbably well-preserved interior of an Assyrian house, called the Aleppo room. My pictures are laughably inadequate; here's one from Google instead. Just imagine standing in it.

Predicting my dumbstruck immobility, the audio tour--
after detailing the room's fascinating history--
told me to "leave the Aleppo room so others may view it."

And there's more. Oh, so much more. Weapons. Carved crystal. Astounding woodwork and exceptional masonry. Yet, despite my attempts at finding the right words, the only way to appreciate it is to go yourself. It seems a light and inconsequential recommendation, but if you enjoy really old and really pretty craftsmanship, you owe it to yourself to visit the Pergamon

If you skipped the last couple of paragraphs (and I don't blame you; I get irritatingly verbose), now's probably a good time to resume reading. I'm currently in a Korean restaurant a few blocks from the heart of Berlin (yes, you read that correctly--Korean), and my flight leaves tomorrow morning at 8:00. I'm in the midst of writing a post that covers the entire trip, and includes my (admittedly poor) excuses for the lack of updates. Barring unforeseen complications, it should be up in the next few days. I'll see you then.

Cheers,

Daniel

Temporarily Greek

I've spent the last week in Athens, Greece, and it's been wonderful.

First of all, my class schedule is erratic and irregular. It's bizarre. It turned out that I had a full week available for travel if I ditched one class--and seeing as the one class was a Corporate Finance lecture, I had no reservations booking my flight to Athens.

One of my closest friends is studying with College Year in Athens, an American study abroad program in, uh, Athens, so lodging was never an issue. In theory, he's not allowed to host overnight guests; I've actually been staying at the Student and Traveller's Inn in (haha) the Plaka if anyone's curious. It's a great place, though it's remarkably similar to my friend's apartment.

My flight was at 9:45 out of Stockholm, so naturally I left my apartment shortly after midnight in order to catch the right buses to make it on time. The longest leg of the trip turned out to be from Jonkoping to Stockholm--from 1:45 to 7:30--and that's all AM times. But yeah, it was three hours to Zurich, Germany, and after an astonishingly short 20 minute layover, two more hours into ATH. From there I grabbed a taxi into town.

I must have lucked into one of Athens' nicest cab drivers--my friend had warned me repeatedly of the local drivers' penchant for ripping off tourists. Mine, however, quoted a (quite reasonable) flat fee, then offered to take me into town via the scenic coastal route. Along the way, he offered the kind of advice only a longtime resident could give, including gems such as, "Oh, I'd say definitely 80% of the street food is safe to eat. The other 20% is, yeah, don't eat that," and "I wouldn't go into the strip clubs if I were you, you'll pay the girls and nothing will happen."

Upon my arrival, I found my Swedish phone only worked sporadically, apparently deciding to connect calls and send texts on a whim. However, the resultant communication mishaps let me explore the surrounding area in great detail during my quest to locate the CYA student center. Tl;dr: I got a little lost.

The Temple of Poseidon at sunset. Yeah.

The next day was devoted to exploring Athens on foot during the daylight hours. My friend's apartment is located approximately 20 meters from the gigantic Panathinaiko Stadium, which is built entirely out of white marble and seats about 45,000 people. Oh, and it hosted the first modern Olympic games in 1896. It's what we walked past to get to anywhere.

Over the past week, I've walked the ruins of the Parthenon, the Temple of Zeus, the Temple of Poseidon. Wandering around the Plaka and Monastiraki, I'd be strolling down the street and catch a glimpse of the Acropolis out of the corner of my eye.

Athens is a strange city. There are incredible ruins scattered everywhere--it's hard not to run across one even when walking to a grocery store. Yet the city as a whole is filled with pedestrian apartment blocks in tan, the ground floors covered in graffiti, the streets potholed and uneven. It's difficult to appreciate that the Athens area has been continuously settled for seven millenia.

To wit: A great trip. I could talk about the weather (20 C warmer than Jonkoping), or the food (Two delicious gyros for 3.80E! Three pizzas for 16E!) or a whole host of other things, but it's largely unnecessary. I am, however, grateful I had the whole week--it was infinitely less stressful when I knew I could come back the next day.

I highly recommend a visit.

Cheers,
Daniel

Copenhagen!

Haha, so much for that update schedule, hey?

Anyway: I spent the weekend in Copenhagen, and it was great.

We left Friday morning around 10:00 after picking up our rental cars, ready for the 330km trip south. Sadly, the cars didn't have a place to plug in an iPod, so we resigned ourselves to 3 hours of nonstop Swedish radio. There was far more Pink and far less ABBA than I had anticipated.

1:00 saw us arriving in Helsingborg, which is a nice little coastal Swedish town. We drove onto a ferry (I'd never done that before. We just drove on! Crazy!), and twenty minutes later we were in the remarkably different Danish town of Helsingor. I'd hazard the two towns have far more in common than not--starting with the first seven letters of their names.

Anyway. Copenhagen (or Kobenhavn, in Danish) was another ~50km south, so after a little panicked gesturing we continued on our way. Danish radio is crap. Utter crap. At one point, we heard the words "Nonstop music" through the stream of Danish babble. This bold statement was immediately followed by several commercials and what seemed to be the DJ's life story. Incidentally, hearing English surface in a flow of Danish is both amusing and strangely heartening.

Our first glimpse of Copenhagen!

The idea was to head to our hostel and check in, then get food. However, we were amusingly (and retrospectively, idiotically) mapless, deciding instead to count on one friend's repeated assurances of "It's a big, white building!" and "I know what it looks like in my head." I'm honestly stunned we got there: we made two random turns, and then someone said, "Isn't that it?" To which the reply was, surprisingly, "Yeah! Now turn around!"

Sorry about the dialog. It was necessary to truly immerse you in the scene, though.

Anyway. One check in process later, and the 10 of us are on the main streets of Copenhagen, excited, talkative, but mostly starving. The tourist office referred us to a buffet, and so--30 minutes after arriving in the 3rd country I'd ever visited--I found myself walking into a Turkish buffet. It was delicious.

Corporate-free Stroget.

After our 4:00 lunch, we wandered down Stroget, the world's longest pedestrian mall. If you can see, that's a Burger King on the right. A little farther down is a McDonalds. The pristine, capitalist-free environment was novel, as were the cobblestones and hanging street lights (one of those things was not novel, or true.). 

Over the next two days, we spent a great deal of time traipsing up and down this street, past shawarma shops and crepe stalls, by fashion stores and LEGO outlets, and, for some strange reason, two Irish pubs. 

Friday night, we went wandering about in search of somewhere to sit and have a quiet, subdued discussion. We found a nightclub called Kant that seemed to suit our purposes--though that was after a trip to The Moose, which was definitely a local bar, and The Francis Pony. Now, I'm not a big party person, and I'm definitely not a barhopper (seeing as it's still illegal for me in the States...). Maybe that'd explain why I felt like walking into The Francis Pony was like entering Copenhagen's seedy underbelly. We nodded to the bouncer, took a few steps down into a dark, smoky room with lots of lasers. The first person I saw was a very angry girl in studded black pants. 

Luckily we escaped the Pony alive, and danced the night away in Kant instead. Incidentally, it's pronounced with a short 'a', so it rhymes with 'haunt.' Several people were more than slightly bewildered when they thought I said we were headed to dance in Copenhagen's vagina. 

That was tasteless. I'm sorry. 

Uh, yeah. The next day was devoted to exploring the city. I spent the morning with monstrously tall Australian, then met up with most of the group for lunch at an awesome Danish chain called Chili-Mili's, which makes massive and delicious sandwiches. After lunch, I headed out by myself to explore--but that's a story for another post. 

There wasn't a whole lot more. More partying on Saturday night. A late night shawarma, lots of inebriated friends, and not enough sleep later, we were checking out of our hostel. We took a leisurely brunch at a great French cafe called Croissant 'En, where I had a great quiche and even better orange juice. As a side note, I had no idea orange juice had discernible levels of quality--but after watching the girl squeeze the oranges directly into a glass, I'm a convert. 

We left the city at around 2:00, and were back in Jonkoping by 6:00. And now I'm packing for Greece. I'll be there for a week starting Tuesday. :)

Cheers!

Daniel