I'm going to take a step away from my irregularly scheduled ranting about my life in China to talk about something much more worthy of your time and attention. There is an orphanage on the Thailand/Burma border called Baan Dada, which serves as a home for over 60 children, many of whom lost their parents to unspeakable unspeakable atrocities by the military junta that controls Burma.
My good friends Gaelen Engler and Ben Landry both spent time volunteering at the Home and came away with only incredible things to say about the children and the director Ricardo Zoleta. Gaelen shot a documentary there, which I saw in Sudbury that left me with tears in my eyes. They both recently sent me messages about a fundraiser for the Home to raise enough money to build a technical school there. I'll use their words now to give you the details:
Gaelen:
"The Home is so much more than an orphanage- it's basically a community development organization. And at the moment, it is taking on it's biggest project yet: building and running a Technical School for youth in the surrounding 20 villages- the closest existing one is over 130 miles away, pretty far if your main mode of transportation is either a bike or your own two feet. Because of the crazy laws surrounding building schools for refugees in Thailand, it's going to cost a crazy sum- and the Home is seriously, desperately struggling to come up with enough to just start the process. The average wage per day in the area is $2.80 (!!), so obviously they are looking far and wide for donations and grants."
Ben:
"On October 23-24, I'm walking 40 miles to benefit Baan Dada Children's Home in Thailand - the goal is to build a technical school next to the Home. My fiance (Erica King) and good friend (Brian Cochran) will also complete the walk. Prior to law school, I visited the home for 2 months and helped build a library, a classroom, and a play structure. Since my visit, I have kept in touch with the home and organized some small efforts to raise money. I continue to be drawn to Baan Dada because 100% of donations directly benefit the children. Additionally, I've never encountered children who are so eager to better their own situation through hard work."
Gaelen:
"A 'Walk For Education' is actually taking place on October 12 [in Thailand] - check out the link on my wall for more details. It is basically a 138 mile walk to the nearest city with the goal of raising enough money to start building the school. And because volunteers and the director of the Home have found so few sponsors, things aren't looking good - therefore, the founder of the Home has decided to continue walking until enough money is collected. This could take months, or it could take over a year. And if anyone on this planet would take such a drastic, selfless measure, this is the guy. He will walk across the continent if that's what it takes."
Ben:
"The man who runs Baan Dada, Ricardo Zoleta, has little overhead costs and gives selflessly of himself. As one example, he sleeps on the concrete floor of a 6'x8' room that also doubles as his office and storage space. His goal is to put each child through college or vocational school, in addition to supplying the kids with medical care, shelter, and food. Because they are Burmese refugees, they are restricted to living and working in a small area of Thailand along the border with Burma with few educational and economic opportunities. There are no technical schools nearby, so this will enable the children in the area (boys and girls) to learn trades so they can support themselves.
In Thailand, Ricardo is walking over 200 kilometers (the equivalent of walking from Boston to slightly beyond Portland, ME) with some volunteers and children who chose to participate. Afterward, Ricardo will continue his walk alone until the entire $1.8 million is raised. It seems like a lot, but he has to comply with Thai building codes and buy equipment for the school. He hopes to be back to the home in time for Christmas.
Gaelen is going back to Thailand on November 30th and I'm going to try and join her during my three week break at the end of January to early February. Every dollar truly does count when it goes to Baan Dada, from every account I've read and heard Ricardo Zoleta sacrifices everything for these kids. If this post raises even $1 (30 Thai Bahts!) for them, it was worth it. Hopefully, Gaelen can find a way to upload her documentary online (anyone know how to do that with huge files?) at which point I will definitely link to it.
Thanks for taking the time to read this,
Stephen "Scuba" Lauer
Of all the incredulous things in Shanghai, one thing keeps me dumbfounded: I'm a teacher?!? A middle school teacher!?!? A middle school English teacher?!?!? If I could IM randomramsrock (my old AIM sn) about this, Middle School Scuba would certainly have thrown himself out of a window. To be fair, all of my classes were on the first floor at Curtis, so it would have been more strange than suicidal... but that's not the point! English was consistently my least favorite subject then; even though I liked a lot of the books (To Kill A Mockingbird is still one of my favs), I was bloody awful at grammar - I didn't know my predicates from my participles! Somewhere, Mrs. Hoaglin's pencils are rolling in her apron.
Perhaps I changed a little over the past ten years. In high school, Mrs. Frommer, Ms. Stein, and the Plotts were a few of my favorite teachers and I took a couple interesting English courses at Maryland. But I was a business major, in a very math intensive focus... and now I'm in China teaching English to 13 year-olds. You may be wondering: how's that working out?
Surprisingly (or not), it's really fun, challenging, and not at all what I expected. Let me give you a rundown of sorts:
Challenging:
I have 19 classes, 17 Junior II's (13-14) and 2 Senior II's (16-17). There are about 25 kids in each Junior II class and 16 in each Senior II class, which means I have roughly 455 students. I see each class once a week. They've all memorized my name, it's kind of tough (see: impossible) to remember all of theirs.
Not At All What I Expected:
Beforehand, I was told that the students were quiet and you need to force them to volunteer. The latter is definitely true for a few of my classes and at least a handful of kids in each class. But the former, is just straight up false. These kids can get as loud as any classroom I ever sat in. And when it comes to the distribution of good kids, troublemakers, and everything in between, I'd say it's pretty much equal to that of an American high school classroom.
Fun:
This summer, I had no idea of what the kids' English proficiency level would be. They would be 8th graders, so should I teach at a 6th grade level? Or even lower? While it varies from class to class and student to student, they aren't completely fluent, but they're really good on a whole. I would kill to speak Chinese as well as they speak English.
I did Ice Breaker games for the first three weeks to try and get to know them as well as possible. Three common themes popped up: they love basketball, computer games, and... Lady Gaga (in increasing order of lovingness). In fact, while my Sr. II's will say "Oh my God!" when they are surprised - something they picked up from American movies, TV Shows, etc. - my Jr. II's say "Oh my Lady Gaga!" I pretty much lost it after I heard that for the first time.
NAAWIE:
Funny Economics-esque Observation:
After a few days, I realized that some of the best students in the class were the troublemakers. At first, I was confused; they goof off in the back while the other students quietly pay attention. Then it hit me. The students in the front speak well because they volunteer all of the time. The kids in the back speak well because they are forced to speak all the time. I'm guilty of feeding into this as well... when a kid is causing a commotion and becoming a distraction, I would tell him to come up and volunteer for the activity in progress. This is also the reason I know all my troublemakers names already. I'm sure formally trained teachers are saying "No Duh" right now, but for me this was profound stuff. The kids who are least proficient are the quiet ones in the middle - I've got to find a way to get them involved.
Challenging:
I try to mix in those American pop culture references they love so much into my classes and I truly believe that the majority of my students like my teaching. Yet still, a few of my kids have told me straight up "that class was boring." I've heard that I can't make everybody happy, but goshdarn it I'm going to give it my damnedest!
I'm finding it difficult to (a) teach relevant material, (b) hold the students' attention for an entire period, (c) gain their respect (at least not become a total pushover), without (d) having to be an authoritarian.
Is this possible?
This is the golden question. Next week, I'm going to be doing a unit on American culture and if things go well I'll break it down by relevant regions of the United States (sorry Great Plains, you didn't make the cut) with games for each territory. If that doesn't cut it... I guess we'll do interpretations of Gaga lyrics or something.
Fun:
The good students definitely make any hurtles completely worth jumping.
Fred from my 10A Friday class gave me a novel he was writing. The first six chapters were very entertaining (even though I learned they were loosely [exactly] based on a video game he was playing) and I can't wait to find out what happens next!
Anaka from my 2A Monday class wanted to interview me about my thoughts on the Expo, unfortunately I haven't gone yet (SACRILEGE!). Instead, we talked about her aspirations as a journalist and about my experience as one in college and at the Olympics. She's really bright and seems like she's going places.
One of my students (whose secret I promised to keep) is applying to private boarding schools in Massachusetts. She asked me what life was like there and I gave her the whole scoop on that. Speaking of which, does anyone who reads the blog know anybody at the Concord Academy, the Cambridge School in Weston, the Governor's Academy, or Tabor Academy? She's definitely the best speaker in her class and one of my best students, so I'd be willing to write her a recommendation or something to help her out.
Oh and my favorite story so far...
I was playing this game called "Back to the Blackboard", where I split the class in half and have two kids come up to the front of the room with their backs to the blackboard while I write a word behind them. Their teammates had to get them to guess the word using other English words.
At the beginning of class there was a big kid sitting in the back named Tommy, and I asked him to move up to an open seat in the second row. He said, "I can't, I'll break seat." So I let him sit in the back.
When it was his turn to come up and represent his team for three points, the other team cheered when his name was called (thinking he was easy points against one of the smarter kids in the class). I forget the words I wrote on the board, but he raised his hand first and got the correct answer for the first point.
Pandemonium. Both teams gasped then just screamed.
Second point. Opponent gets first chance. Gets it wrong. Tommy guesses. And scores!
Kids are jumping up and down now. In disbelief on one side and jubilation on the other.
Third point. Tommy shoots. Nothin' but the bottom of the net. The class chants "TOMMY! TOMMY! TOMMY!" as he walks to his seat at the back of the class. Freaking epic. I won't forget his name for a good long time.
...
So, it's been a crazy five-and-a-half weeks here. I feel like I've lived here a year. There's so much I've left out of these entries, but I'll keep trying to capture the key moments for anyone out there who's interested.
School notes I couldn't fit in relevantly above:
- When they have vacations here, they make them up on weekends... I had a three day holiday for the Mid-Autumn Festival on a Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday and had to work the preceding Saturday and the whole weekend afterwards. I don't know if I'm for or against it, it was just an unusual concept, even for me.
- The kids here come from some prestigious families. When we go out to eat food after work, we pass by a long line of Rolls Royces fully equipped with professional drivers. Just ridiculous. (Matthias, I'll try to get you a photo)
- Oh and not only am I a teacher, but also a student! I take two Mandarin classes a week, plus a computer program I have, plus everything I pick up at work and on the street. I can feel the progression and I love it!
Until next time (hopefully sooner than later),
Zaijian!
Stephen "Scuba" Lauer
...
UPDATE!
I somehow forgot to mention that I was in a tug-of-war competition for the SFLS Sports Day! We got second place... CLOSE ENOUGH! Here is your reward for reading the blog:
Most people don't get the Eye of the Tiger, I've got two
Left to Right: Jack, Sarah, JennyJo, Andy, Joe, Gillian, Me!, Becca, Max, Sean, Anna, Pete, Wes, and Austin
As of today, I have officially lived in Shanghai for a month. There isn't enough time or space (or brain cells in my head) for me to recount every fun/awesome/weird event that I've experienced since I got here. But I will do my best to recap the very best of the first month so far. Here's a taste (in no particular order):
- Most of orientation stunk. An expat who had lived in the city for 10/15/40 years would discuss all of the culture shock and worst case scenarios we would almost certainly encounter (now we literally take what was said there and do the exact opposite, it was so bogus). However, there was one great lecture: The Role of Chinglish in China!
A Chinese English professor with a funny British/Chinese accent gave a lecture saying that it was impossible to experience China without experiencing Chinglish. She showed a lot of stellar examples of translations gone wrong. My favorites: "Please Slip Carefully" (for wet floors), menu items such as "Spring F--- Chicken with Rice" or "Husband and Wife Lung Slice", and my all-time favorite one from her slide show was a business with a large sign reading "Translation Server Error" (apparently she told the owner what it said, but even a year later the sign remained).
These are everywhere, but that doesn't stop it from being funny every time. Here's one from the Swan Hotel where we spent our first three nights.
We found out later that the Chinese symbol for "ceiling" is very close to the symbol for "smallpox." Needless to say, that was the last button we flicked before going to sleep (that is NOT the way I want to go out).
- That lecture came right before a great night.
We had a traditional Chinese banquet with about 20 courses. Duck, fish, pork, steak, many vegetables they don’t have back home, and plenty of pijou. A great meal and I got to meet a lot of the people from Marshall teaching at the other schools.
I’d say there’s too many to mention, but that’s not my style.
I had already met Becca, Jenny Jo, and Sarah at my hotel the first night and they were all at my table; they teach at Jin Cai over in Pudong. We still see them whenever possible and they'll come up in a bunch of my adventures in the future. Likewise with Austin and Jack, who teach at Shanghai University of Finance and Economics (SHUFE). Austin lived here last year and knows all the fun places to party and visit around town. Anna, Wes, and Will are teaching out in the Hunan province; they were a ton of fun when they were out in Shanghai, hopefully they come back for a visit. Joe and Gillian are a really interesting couple from New York City who will also be teaching out in Hunan.
We follow up with a cruise around the harbor. It’s absolutely magnificent when it’s lit up, even with heavy rain. The city looks like it was built in the year 2500, and more new crazy/interesting architecture pops up everyday. I can't wait to see Shanghai in 2020 (I lied, I can wait, there's too much fun to be had in the next decade). Since there are no words left to describe it, here are a few images (all compliments of Sean Jackson, since I lost the cable to upload my own pictures).
- I've officially set a new Scublog record for most words between sports references, so now is the time to snap that streak. I am now a proud supporter of the Shanghai Shenhua Football Club! When I try to talk to co-workers, students, or annoying flower saleswomen outside of clubs about the Shenhua, I always get the same reaction: "Why???" (or "You want buy flower?" They're never really interested in making small talk) I had read that there is a general lack of enthusiasm for Chinese soccer, especially due to some game rigging scandals in the past few years that lead to the retirement of several high standing soccer players who wanted no part of the Chinese Superleague.
But don't tell that to those inside the stadium. The first game I went to with Sean, Andrew, and the Jin Cai girls, Shanghai played against Dalian Shide. It would be generous to the local team to say that the stadium was half full, but the stadium is massive and those there were noisy, flag waving (huge freaking flags too, I got some good pictures I'll get up ASAP) zealots. About as exciting as the Shenhua's inability to convert on a plethora of strong looks - which cost them the game, which ended in a 1-1 draw - was the off-field action.
A small, but loud, contingent of Dalian fans chanted at the Shenhua faithful, who would respond, and they would go back-and-forth when action was slow (see: players rolling around in agony). It turns out that about 15% of the words yelled by anyone in the stadium are "cai pao" meaning "referee" and about 80% are, ahem, let's say "to thank." So, the most common phrase is either "thank you referee" or "go thank yourself ref" (it's kind of like that, just the exact opposite).
At halftime, a number of fights broke out near the concession areas of the stadium. The refs started out letting the players play a rough style, but increasingly blew their whistles more often causing a lot of tension between the fans. Within the last 10 minutes, a fight broke out on the pitch (unfortunately, I was too slow with the camera to catch any of it before it was broken up). For an arena so empty, I had never felt this type of electricity before. After the final whistle, there were immediately fights in the stairwells leading away from my section.
For whatever reason, I had brought my backpack with my computer, iPod, and camera in it. The way I understand it, Chinese can hit Chinese and Foreigners can hit Foreigners, but there's trouble when there is any crossover. However, with emotions running high and alcohol involved, I was obviously in protection mode. After getting the ladies to the Metro station, we started to head back, which took us right back to the stadium. As we approached, we saw a man and a police officer being chased by a large, angry mob. The man somehow continued running after being hit by a thrown bicycle and made it into his car, somehow unfortunately parked directly in front of the stadium. The police officer threw a couple hooligans out of the way while the others started whaling on the car. The car was not in a good position to leave the vicinity and, while I was some distance away from the scene, I could distinctly hear the shattering of windows and the windshield (hopefully Chinese insurance covers football riots). After he somehow escaped, the Shenhua hoard started chants set to the music of car horns.
Take shots at Chinese soccer if you please, but don't say that the fans lack passion, intensity, or craziness.
- There's so many other good ones:
- We went to eat at what seemed like a decent restaurant for lunch near Jin Cai. We were put at a table next to five Chinese businessmen who were drinking and smoking the afternoon away (it was 13:00). After eating a scary looking seafood dish - which I randomly chose off the menu that had no English or pictures on it - one of the businessmen came over and started talking to us in Mandarin. Before we knew it he started filling up our glasses and saying "GAN BEI!" (Bottoms UP!) Thanks to Andy and Sean's skills and Becca's Chinese-English dictionary, we learned that they were stoked that we were in their city, in their neighborhood, all the way from America, and wanted to show their appreciation. By 14:30, we were all sloshed and they paid for not only all of the booze, but also our entire meal! Someone somewhere has a picture of me with one of the businessmen... I need to get my hands on that. [UPDATE: Thanks to Jenny Jo for the photo! BTW, our table was the one to the left in the picture. Those were some generous dudes, and they were ready to buy us more!]
- We went out to a nice huge dinner and the restaurant was playing some good Chinese rock music, so I went to inquire about it. Using sign language, I successfully got them to turn off the music and play some gosh awful American pop music. Rather than sulk off defeated, I continued until they found one guy who could "talk" to me. His English was broken, but he really loved Americans.... I mean really loved them. After learning that I was one, he tried his darnedest to fulfill my request. He came over to the table with three things painted (in black paint) on his arm:
only music
3track
that's it no more
Being me, I thought these were the names of the bands and not the instruction, "there are only three tracks on the CD, that's it no more." After realizing this, I tried to ask him what the three tracks were to no avail. I gave up.
But that's not it. Eventually, I needed to relieve myself. He was staring at me for the entire meal, so I figured he could help me find the facilities. So I asked him, and he was so excited that he not only showed me the way to the WC, but decided to join in on the experience, by taking the urinal next to mine and starting a conversation. It would have been awkward if not for the motto one must live by when over here: This Is China (TIC). He told me that when he got off work at the restaurant that he was a policeman. I probably laughed at that point, since this kid was absolutely giddy just to be in my presence and that he looked like he might be old enough to start riding his bike without training wheels in a few months. But he set me straight a few minutes later. While sitting at my table he came over in his full policeman garb. I gave him mad props and we took our picture together. TIC TIC TIC
...
Everyday there are more stories, I'll try to update more so I can keep you all informed when the best ones happen. And did I mention that I'm actually teaching here? I'll save that for Part 3.
It has been far too long since I updated this. Seriously, the last three weeks have felt like years, I just have been doing too much to sit and write about it. Lets start from the top:
- After one of the worst travel days ever (as I mentioned earlier), I rolled into Beijing completely delirious. Turns out that after spending a night barely asleep on a train that should have been moving, failing at paying for a taxi, taking another train, metroing to the airport, and taking two flights totaling 19 hours, I gave the wrong passport to customs in Beijing before traveling to Shanghai. They gave me a temporary 1-day travel visa... which was about 299 days too short. I've heard there will be days like these, I'll take them if they only come once every 23 years.
(Sidenote: I can’t give my dad enough props for actually getting me to Shanghai. I thought I could get by without calling him and without any money [dumb] so by the time I called him it was about 3:00AM in Sudbury. And even though he was probably 90% asleep, he still got me a better deal than the 343€ cab ride I couldn’t afford. I consider myself pretty resourceful, but it doesn’t hurt that I share genes with the best resource in the world. Love you dad [oh yeah and I still messed it up...])
At the airport, I meet Sean and Andy, who will be working with me at Shanghai Foreign Language School (SFLS). Sean is from Rome, NY; Andy’s from Western Virginia (not to be confused with West Virginia). We’ve created a triumvirate of sorts to conquer this city, the language, and the women (just kidding... but seriously).
So I got there, but the hotel notified me that I could be deported if I didn’t do anything about my situation. Crap.
- QingQing Zhao became my Guardian Angel in China. As the leader of the Marshall TEFL course, she took it upon herself to legalize my stay in this country. We traveled by Metro, bus, taxi, and even motorcycle taxi (don't worry mom they provided helmets) to travel throughout Shanghai to talk to various officials, who would tell me to leave the country and re-enter instead of taking any reasonable course of action. After much ado, we're finally given the perfectly bureaucratic compromise of "you don't need to leave the country, but you do need to go to Beijing to sort things out - and no we're not going to pay for it for you." Without QingQing, I'd probably have had to pull an all-nighter flying out to Korea/Vietnam/Hong Kong and right back in, which would have been costly on two levels: monetarily and it would've added two more airline food meals to my diet (and there's only so many of those you're body is allowed each lifetime). On the plus side I got to go to Beijing!
- On the downside, I got to see Beijing. Before then, I kept catching myself comparing Shanghai to my Beijing experience: i.e. "that's cool/fun/sweet/interesting, but when I was in Beijing... it was so much better/bigger/tastier/awesomer!" So I needed to go back to revisit, see how it was holding up.
The trip really ended up being a breakup between me and the city. The smog was lighter than I remembered, but the sun was still very hazy. The traffic was awful and the streets were filthy. All the little things that I was willing to brush under the rug to have one of the best experiences of my life (and a pinnacle moment for Beijing as well). But the worst part was while I moved on with my life, it was still clinging to the past. The trains still showed re-runs of old Olympic events and the announcements on the trains still reminded volunteers where to get off. People still watered the flowers and kept up the stadiums. The carnival fled town, but left behind the ferris wheel and the merry-go-round. The people didn't excitedly talk to me on the train when I got on (to be fair I wasn't wearing my Beijing jersey, and it was rush hour on a Monday afternoon). We did relive the old times though. I had noodles from Master Kong's Soup Kitchen, with Tongue, Tripe, and Tendon. I remembered all the fantastic times I had there. Someday I'll go back, but hopefully in a few years after things have finally passed.
At least the breakup allowed me to move on. I'm a Shanghai man now and I can now fully focus on the present without comparing it too much with what was really a surreal once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And I got my visa fixed, which I guess was important too.
...
So this entry was a little negative, but I feel that it was necessary to endure some pain and hardships to fully initiate into Shanghai. This all basically happened within the first week, I'll try to have another post or two up about my first three weeks while I'm on this three day weekend (from Wednesday-Friday, I'll cover that in a future post).
I've received a tremendous amount of support from people about the blog, many of whom I had no idea read it! I added a followers tab to the right, please sign up for that. Not only because I love knowing who actually reads the blog, but also because if I know who I'm letting down, I'm more likely to post more often. Thanks everybody!
I had some tremendous meals in Barcelona, let me tell you about them:
Friday (13/8): After ambling around the Gothic district for a few hours, Lauriane and Elise broke off to meet a friend, leaving Dave, Ryan, and I to fend for ourselves for dinner. I checked my treasure map and found that La Lonja de Tapas (big props to Dot Kelleher) was right around the corner. Our palates had no idea what was about to hit them. My first night, I had some tapas at a bar near Las Ramblas and overpaid for what I later learned were pretty subpar tapas. Dave and Ryan had a similar experience in their first day and, after a later experience never to be described, we vowed never to eat anywhere near Las Ramblas – the restaurants know they will be getting tourist customers who will eat there once and move on, the food is terrible and expensive, not too mention the obnoxious street vendors interrupting your meal.
Moving on, we find a major intersection and track down La Lonja de Tapas, which just looks like any old hole-in-the-wall restaurant. However, once you head in to use el baño, the inside has the décor of a 5-star restaurant. We take seats at a table outside and are given a saliva-inducing menu. For the first round, Ryan orders a goat cheese and tomato salad and Dave orders meatballs. I was a little incredulous that one would order meatballs at a classy restaurant in Barcelona, but the dish quickly arrives and exposing my misguided notions. The meatballs are breaded and topped with an exquisite sauce; these are not meatballs, American staple/comfort food, this are Gourmet Meatballs. Touché Dave. As soon as we finish the first course, our plates are replaced by the main meal: Dave gets chicken skewers marinated in soy sauce and sesame seeds, Ryan has an amazing diced salmon dish seasoned in dill and sesame, and I have a grilled steak topped with duck foie gras. The foie gras just melts in my mouth while I chew on the well-cooked steak. Each stolen bite of Ryan’s salmon forces me to drop my fork and knife and savor the moment before starting the next delectable taste.
We leave the table perfectly sated. This was the lightest of our fantastic meals, which is probably for the best, considering our meal the next night.
Saturday (14/8): Ryan and I had heard of a local delicacy called paella and we vowed to find out exactly what that was. Fortunately, I had received a primo recommendation by Alex Baddock, to go to La Fonda. Again, from the outside it just looked like a little restaurant on the corner, but when we enter it appears to be a two-story eating palace. It was a bit empty, but we realized that 19:30 (7:30PM for y’all in the States) is a little early for dinner in Barcelona.
We literally have no idea what paella is, so we order appetizers figuring that the Spanish are staying true to their tapa-sized portions. Our starters are all larger than we expected: Dave’s macaroni with Bolognese sauce alone was as filling as the meal the night before (so Ryan and I helped him out), Ryan had a large-yet-intricate salad, and I had a stellar gazpacho (I polished off the bowl with my bread to get every last drop). I also had my first real sangria in Spain. Dave and Ryan are sober, so I ordered the smallest quantity I could – a ½ liter pitcher full of fruit, rose wine, and a hard liquor of some sort (presumably brandy?). Before it came out, we debated how large we thought our 3-person paella would be. Were the appetizers large because paella is small or would the entrée be proportionally larger than the appetizer like at most restaurants?
When the paella pan (literally a steel pan) took up the vast majority of our table, we had our answer. A rice base was filled with mussels, squid, fully shelled prawn, as well as bits of sausage, beef, and pork. Dave didn’t want any mussels, so Ryan and I divided those up; they didn’t look like they had any sauce, but they were delicious, I have no idea what they did to them. Turns out prawn is much like miniature lobsters, so I gave a lesson in getting the meat out of the torso. Everything mixed with the rice, which was friggin’ good, but so filling compared to every other meal we had in Spain thus far. Dave and Ryan threw in the towel heading into the fourth quarter of the dish. Fueled by my sangria, I channeled my inner Joey Chestnut (or Kobayashi, whoever eats paella better) to clean that pan off. Honest to goodness, I wasn’t hungry until 14:30 the next day. We weren’t the least bit surprised that La Fonda was packed with a line stretching down the street when we left. I’ve never had another paella to compare this to, but I have a hunch this was the good stuff. I can’t imagine eating it anywhere else.
Just when we thought we reached the summit of Barcelona culinary greatness, we found an entirely new plateau of excellence the next night.
Sunday (15/8): This is meal/adventure is so epic I have to preface it by introducing the characters involved:
Dave and Ryan: As individuals, they are funny, witty, smart gentlemen. But together, they are a force to be reckoned with. Their personalities and opinions clash and complement for clever banter, funny stories, and well-taken jabs all around. Dave is a health-minded individual looking to major in economics at UCLA and Ryan is chasing his life dream of becoming a professional photographer. However, the one subject they are most passionate about is food. They breakdown and analyze food with the same intensity that I reserve for sports (that's a serious compliment). I don't watch the Food Network or food shows anywhere, but if they were to start a culinary critique show, I would watch that every night. And if they need someone to find restaurants to eat at in cities around the world (and polish off any dish they don't finish), I would do that in a heartbeat - for free. I never thought I'd ever get along with anyone from Los Angeles, now I've met two and they're convincing me to even come out and visit (and it's working).
Mira: A girl we met on Saturday, who is on the craziest journey of anyone I've ever heard of (perhaps including Bilbo Baggins). Once working in San Francisco's financial district, she decided in a single day to travel Europe for 6 weeks... taking off five days later. Two-and-a-half months later, she's still overseas with no return in sight. She's been to dozens (exaggeration?) of cities in a myriad of countries and having incredible experiences at every stop. After hearing us rave about our last two dinners, she decided to come along for our third and greatest excursion.
The Adventure: What ensued played out like an episode of Seinfeld (with Dave/Ryan as Jerry/George [not sure which is which], Mira as Elaine, and me as Kramer [I'll take it]). We began by setting off for a tapas place called Txapela (which I still have no idea how to pronounce) around 9 o'clock. It was listed as across the street from the Pg de Gracia metro station, but finding which direction across puzzled us. After, no joke, half an hour of searching and a couple of useless directions by local restaurant owners - who didn't even know which road they were on, what? - we ran into a man with many words about Txapela. I don't speak Spanish, which is really crucial in Spain it turns out, but Mira is fluent and Dave can get by, so they did the interpreting. He believed that Txapela was just a tourist place with expensive low quality tapas, but that there was another place seven streets up and four streets over with far superior tapas. Not knowing what to believe and not wanting to give up on Txapela, we went around the corner to find our destination closed, so we decided to follow the stranger's advice.
Seven streets up and four streets over, we were completely lost in an unknown (but beautiful) neighborhood, probably around 10:30 or so. Having had a bite at 7, I was doing fine, but Dave and Ryan were suffering. Mira goes inside a restaurant and asks where to find The Place, the owner says, "two streets down on the left." We walk two streets down, look around, and things don't look open. We ask another local restaurant owner, his reply "two streets down." At this point, we start to get grim, wondering if we were going to get tapas or our kidneys removed. Two streets later, we ask again, they say to go left... two streets down.
Two more streets down and we are in a neighborhood I recognize! I had wandered in L'Exiample after Sagrada Familia to go to a restaurant called Paco Meralgo (a 7-star suggestion by Kip Lange), but didn't stay because there was a 30 minute wait (for one person for lunch) and I was ravenous. We decide to go to The Place or Paco Meralgo, whichever shows up first. Using my map, we stumble around aimlessly for another 10 or 15 minutes. Dave suggests we eat Baby Ruths for dinner from the 7-11-esque convenience store we pass; we consider it. We get to the end of a street and are exhausting fast, when Ryan yells "THAT'S IT!" pointing down the road. He's right, Paco Meralgo stood before us, glowing like a heavenly beacon in the middle of the dark residential neighborhood.
There's a 15 minute wait, which we gladly accept, knowing that if there's a 15 minute wait at 11:30, it has to be good. There are no words to properly describe the experience that follows. And, while I regret not bringing a camera to document the event, the photos wouldn't have done it justice.
Our waiter was the first good one we had in Catalonia; he starts out by making a joke and we immediately like him. At first glimpse at the menu, Dave and Mira realize that this is The Place that The Stranger recommended (from some mixture of words they hadn’t recognized earlier). Dave and Ryan know exactly what they're ordering; Mira and I are overcome by the choices and have the Good Waiter order for us.
First course: a succulent raw tuna for Mira and I, a thinner more flavorful tuna Carpaccio for Ryan, and “La Bomba” meatballs for Dave. Our tuna was great for sinking teeth into and I savored every bite. Ryan’s tuna had such flavor that it worked as a perfect alternative to our dish. Dave’s meatballs lived up to their name, and he even made a face one rarely sees outside of the bedroom, of pure unadulterated ecstasy (apparently they were burning his mouth, but he didn’t want to spit them out or douse them with water so he made an O-face through the pain).
Second dish: Dave had steak sautéed in sliced garlic, Ryan had seasoned red peppers, and Mira and I had a huge seafood platter (which we shared with the LA duo). Dave’s steak was spectacular, as were Ryan’s peppers (which may have been shishito peppers, not sure). But I still dream about the seafood platter we ate, even a week later. The clams, like the mussels the night before, didn’t look specially seasoned in any way, but were at least as delicious (and there were more of them, which doesn’t hurt). The squid looked like it had eyeballs or something looking at us, but I think they were just the suckers on the tentacles – I really have no idea – but those are a vivid part of my dreams. They weren’t fried like most calamari I’ve had, just cooked to perfection. And the prawn! Oh the prawn! Seriously, the prawn were bigger with more spices than the night before… it was as if this seafood platter took our paella as a challenge to their delectable supremacy and surpassed it in every category. There were also these longish shells filled with a squidlike fish; no idea what it was, but it was magnifico! Ryan also got a veal to finish off the second round, but I was already thinking dessert (it looked on par with the rest of the meal though).
Dessert: Dave and Ryan got a Catalan Crème Bruleé, which is slightly gooier than its French cousin and almost as wonderful. The Good Waiter ordered Mira and I something awesome, I forget the exact name. It was this French toast, but almost more fried so it was very crunchy and sweet topped with freaking incredible ice cream. Both were gone within moments of hitting the table.
The tremendous atmosphere of the restaurant, propelled by the Good Waiter, fantastic company, and brilliant food makes this a top 5 meal of my lifetime for sure. I couldn’t even write this post when I was hungry because it seemed like too much of a tease to myself. We’d tell people at the hostel about our meals and they were stupefied by how well we were eating. And we could only shake our heads when they told us about the tapas they had on Las Ramblas that evening…
* * *
Time started sprinting all of a sudden… here’s some quick notes
·On my last day in Barcelona, I sunbathed. Naked. Every now and then you’ve gotta shed the Puritan values, drop your pants, and lose your tan lines. When’s the next time I get to do that?
·I got into Munich and immediately had a pork knuckle and a Bavarian beer. I loved the food in Barca, but the pork knuckle filled me up as much as anything aside from the paella. And don’t get me started on the difference between the Spanish beer (only Estrella basically) and any beer in Munich. I came down with a cold and I’m blaming it on too long without soccer or basketball and too much Estrella – I’m never drinking that swill again (until I go back).
·Matthias and I stayed at his friend Carlo Studtmann’s place. I couldn’t have asked for a better host. He was in the middle of exams, but still took the time to settle me in, show me around, tell me where to go, and even organize my trips. A real class act. And his friends took good care of me at the beer gardens. My only wish is that the time could’ve stretched longer.
·Also Matt and I rode bikes over to the BMW Museum. His cars are my sports, so he proved to be a great tour guide as expected. What I didn’t expect was to re-fall in love with motorcycles. The K1300 is one of the best motorcycles in the world and it can be bought in Germany for €13,000! The dealer even said it’s probably cheaper in $’s in the US than it is in €’s out here. One of the best motorcycles in the world or a really crappy car for the same price… and the motorcycle will have better gas milage… hmmmmm. Also, I could just feel the power in the bike when I got on it and just got this feeling, like I need to tame it. Maybe I’ll get a license out in Shanghai (I’m just kidding mom [or am I?])
·I literally had the worst travel day in the history of travel days. I set off to get to the airport at 8:00 for a 13:30 flight and my train was delayed by 3 hours at the first station. Then it didn’t go to the right place so I had to transfer and I missed my flight. Re-booked and had to take 3 flights instead of one direct flight. Then they lost one of my bags… which they fortunately found about 30 minutes later. I know I’m an optimist when I’ve had the past two days I’ve had and think, “if I only have to do this once every 23 years, I should be in good shape.”
·Now I’m sitting in my hotel in Shanghai, the skyline is lit up a mile away out our window. This is ridiculous, I can’t wait to get started.
Monday (9/8): Played basketball less than a quarter mile from the Eiffel Tower. I was just going for the ball, so I didn't bring my camera, biggest regret from Europe so far. It becomes part of the background when you're playing, but every now and then I'd look up and just be in awe. And the competition was good and fun as hell to play with. Every drive to the hoop contained about 4, 5, or 27 fakes before a behind-the-back or between-the-legs pass. When I did a behind-the-back and the recipient didn't see it coming, he apologized for missing it rather than asking me what the hell I was doing. A few funny notes too. While they had a boombox with Dr. Dre playing, a couple of differences from the US were that they smoked cigarettes between games and all brought their purses with them. So while we were playing there were about 10 or 12 purses on the sideline and not a single girl amongst us, that will never cease to amuse me. (Side note: I feel like this trend in Europe may originate with the heavy usage of coins. I hate them rattling around in my pockets, so a purse may be handy; but I don't think I could ever bring myself to buy one).
That night at L'Antidote, I had a surreal moment. There were a bunch of French lads and ladies my age at the bar, a handful of whom were rather sloppy (to put it nicely). When ordering their final round of shots, they asked where I was from. When I answered, they gave me a shot and hummed the first part of the national anthem before regaling me with their stories of their time in the USA. I've heard stories and rumors about how the French are rude to travelers, especially those from America, but my experience couldn't be more of the opposite. Many people in Paris went the extra mile to make my stay as good as possible. After I live in Shanghai for a few years, I'll probably have to live here and learn French. (Also, I'll have to learn their anthem so that I can hum it to the first French person I meet in a bar back home)
Tuesday (10/8): I went to Napoleon's tomb, a massive monument to a tiny man. Afterwards, I chilled at a cafe for a couple hours arranging travel and the like. Pretty slow day. I ate at a North African restaurant around the corner from my hostel, which was delicious and the host was stellar in guiding me through my options; there was food from Senegal, Cameroon, and Madagascar, all tres bon. If I can find the name I'll pass it forward for future travelers. In my last night at the Young and Happy Hostel in the Latin Quartier (can't say enough good things about it, great staff, clean rooms, always felt my possessions were secure), a bunch of new travelers just got in. I took them over to L'Antidote to hopefully continue traditions after I leave. I'm gonna miss that place, it was a chill bar to start the night and Will is a cool bartender, always talking with the folks and providing quality service/music (really good music actually).
Wednesday (11/8): Spent 6 hours in the airport due to delays, let's not talk about it. It was late, but I got to Barcelona.
Thursday (12/8): Wandered around Las Ramblas before heading over to Picasso museum. Talk about mind blowing, I think I got an aneurysm. I spent 3.5 hours looking at the over 300 paintings there and they have over 700 more in the vault (Picasso liked the idea of a museum in his hometown and just up and donated 1000 paintings that were "laying around his house"! What!?!). Genius doesn't have an off switch, and it showed. It started with paintings when he was 12 and he died with a brush in his hand. I could look at his works all day. My favorite was his interpretations of a Velazquez piece. When I see a picture, I try to come up with two or three ideas of what is going on in it before moving on. Picasso put his own spin on fellow Spanish painter Velazquez's "Las Meninas"... 60 times. 60. All cubist, but all different, with the colors perhaps conveying the souls/emotions/true intentions of the main characters. Mindblowing. Loved it.
That night, I met Lauriane, Elise, Dave, and Ryan who explored the streets of Barcelona with me. We punctuated the night with my first dip into the Mediterranean Sea around 3AM. The perfect way to start my time in Spain
Friday/Saturday (13-4/8): When I first posted this I got the days off by one, now I can't differentiate these two (Barcelona will do that to you). I did a Gaudi tour, went to Casa Milla (a house designed by him), Sagrada Familia, and Parc Gaülle (a community designed by him). He's definitely a genius too, just centuries ahead of his time. He was an architect, sculptor, and an engineer, his buildings are all twisted and crazy (I'm standing on the roof of Casa Milla in the photo above). I wish he didn't die, I definitely would've commissioned him to design the future Lauer Mansion.
On Friday afternoon, I explored the Gothic district with Lauriane, Elise, Dave, and Ryan. Then I had the first of my Culinary Adventures (coming next post).
Sunday (15/8): Very lazy day today, just laying low after some late nights partying this weekend.
Tomorrow I head out to Figueres for another of my favorite geniuses, Salvador Dali.
Shameless Plugs: I've eaten like a king every night in Barcelona thanks to Kip Lange, Dot Kelleher, Alex Baddock, and Jeff Devine. My map, which is peppered with their recommendations, is treated like a holy relic. So far they're batting 1.000 (knock on wood), I have no doubt it'll keep up. I will tell you all about it in the next post.
Also to the Young and Happy Hostel. I wish I could remember the manager's name, he learned mine on the first day and made sure that my experience was as pleasurable as possible. Either he does that for everybody there or the Scublog has gained popularity faster than I expected. He's a real class act.
Finally, to Gabi, Olivier, and Will for being excellent people to talk with, learn about Paris from, and for making an American feel comfortable abroad.
Lots going on over here, and there's even more to come so I actually will make this brief.
Thursday (5/8 [Euro Style]): I went to the Pantheon after arriving in Paris. Ate my first Parisian crepe, drank my first Parisian café, and nearly melted with my first Parisian crème brûlée (which reminds me that I still haven't eaten Parisian escargot, what's wrong with me!). I met my temporary roommate Javiera, who is from Bilbao of the Basque country (not part of Spain [but it kinda is]). Discovered the bar L'Antidote and befriended the bartender William from Monaco.
Friday (6/8): I wake up early for the last time, it's much more fun to stay out until 5 than it is to wake up at 8. Jav is a fine arts major, so we head to the Louvre, where we act like tourists, get ridiculously lost, make fun of the Mona Lisa, etc. After spending 45 minutes recovering in a cafe, we get lost trying to find a flea market that doesn't actually exist out in the suburbs. We go back to L'Antidote and party la nuit away.
Saturday (7/8): Jav leaves for London, I act like I live here. I spend a couple hours in a cafe before heading to an artists apartment that Jav and I passed by on the way to the Louvre. Seriously, David, if you're reading this check out some of the photos on the side. If your apartment in Berkeley is anything like this (painted walls and art coming out of the woodwork) then please take some pictures and I'll definitely come over after China - living with an artist would be a fantastic experience.
I went to the inside out building and bought a Paris St. Germaine kit before heading to the game. I could write a million words about this experience. The fans are crazy, there are two rival sections, the fascists and the socialists who used to fight after games - even though they root for the same team! Last year was a brutal year for PSG who finished 10th, so the fans cared less about the soccer and more about the fighting. It escalated until one fanatic got killed. To get into the stadium, I had to pass by security guards with machine guns (I still get chills thinking about it). The game was alright, but much lower quality than the HSV-Chelsea match. I got along well with Pierre and Isabella who sat next to me and spoke enough English to commentate on the game. Pierre rooted for both teams, growing up rooting for Sainte Ettiene who were a powerhouse in his youth and now living in Paris. Like the rest of our section, they hated the fascists and just loved the game. The atmosphere was pretty intense, the crowd did little whistles every time they didn't like something or to mock the other team and at times was as ambient as vuvuzelas. The crowd had dozens of chants (which you can hear here), most of which are simple like "Ici C'est Paris" ("This is Paris"). I could go on forever. There was a bicycle kick for a goal, ridiculous. I probably will write more on this later.
Sunday (8/8): I finally visited the Eiffel Tower, which is essentially a tourist trap (trés bourgeois haha); I fulfilled my required attendance and headed to Sacre Coeur... another tourist trap. I came back exhausted, but went to L'Antidote and met up with Will and his friends. I asked them about what French music is best and had a great ongoing conversation that lasted the whole night. Also this was the first time I did the kiss on both cheeks thing as a goodbye (basically they're converting me, I'll probably arrive in Barcelona wearing a beret - which I haven't actually seen yet).
Today (9/8): Whoa, that's now. Last night at 5:30AM I came back to the hostel and chilled with Olivier, one of the guys working the desk. We got off well right off the bat (on the first day) as he is from Paris and loves PSG. He added a few bands to the music list and we started talking about basketball - which he also loves - and told me the location of a bunch of the courts around town. A couple are in shady areas, which I may stay away from, and one for elite players (you can only play if you have a strong reputation), which I may stop by just to watch. There is one that is safe to be at, which is where I'll play this afternoon if the players there are legit. Afterwards, I'll head to Musee D'Orsay (if it's open today, Mondays can be off days for museums).
I love Paris. The people here have been so helpful and nice; the opposite of the stereotypes in my experience. There are enough tourist activities to occupy me for decades, but I've had more fun conversing with locals and chilling at cafes. I could write a bajillion words about the culture here and the differences/hidden similarities with America, which I may yet do. But for now, I've got to get back out there. I only have two days before set off for Barcelona!
On Wednesday I saw Chelsea visit Hamburger SV in Hamburg with my cousin Johannes. The common nickname for Hamburger is HSV (pronounced in either three syllables as ha-ess-valdt or two highs-valdt, depending on the chant). It was an astonishing game throughout, here's the rundown:
- My uncle, Paul, bought Johannes and I these tickets and they were fantastic! In the last row of the section under the balcony, I was able to stand, jump up-and-down, etc without blocking anyone's view. Plus, they were close enough we could recognize all the players by their faces
- For those of you who don't follow soccer, Chelsea is absolutely loaded. You can see their roster here. Basically they consist of players who started for their national teams and players who captained their national teams. The reaction they received from the strongly HSV dominated crowd was unlike any I've seen in the US: they gave them a rousing ovation when they entered the pitch. I initially started booing, as would be the norm at home, but quickly changed when I realized what was going on. The crowd was excited to see such great players in action on their home pitch, very classy.
- Even in warmups, Chelsea was so nasty. Nicolas Anelka, the striker who was sent home by the French team at the World Cup for being a prima donna, was flicking behind the back passes to teammates in the shootaround, and always hit the lower left side of the net when he decided to fire one home himself (even when the goalie seemed to know exactly where he was shooting). Also there was a juggling circle that consisted of Didier Drogba (my personal favorite), Ashley Cole, Frank Lampard, John Terry, and a few scrubs (term used extremely loosely). They didn't allow the ball to hit the ground for what felt like 3 or 4 minutes by saving the ball with high difficulty maneuvers. Johannes and I stared in amazement, but when I went to record they stopped.
- When the game started, I was disappointed when Drogba wasn't listed in the starting lineup. "Oh well," I thought, "I guess I'll have settle for Anelka and Florent Malouda up front." They both started for the French national team, no big deal.
- Chelsea dominated possession right off the bat, but HSV got a few good looks. There was an audible gasp from the stadium when HSV crossed and John Terry did his patented headfirst dive to clear the ball out - even though he missed. I couldn't tell if the gasp was in appreciation for something that we had only ever witnessed on television, or because he missed it
- The young defenders of HSV had supreme difficulty handling Anelka, Cole, and Malouda; they could get or put the ball wherever they pleased. This climaxed in a poor pass by a defender that was intercepted by Malouda who crossed the ball to Lampard for the easy score in the 24th minute. The air was sucked out of the stadium, even the fans behind HSV's goal who stood all game chanting were silent for a few minutes.
- HSV controlled the ball and was very close to scoring on two corners just before halftime. The crowd was definitely tense, but there was a sense of anticipation; we knew HSV would score soon. Terry helped energize the crowd with a terrible tackle from behind that earned him a Yellow Card.
- Being there live amplified everything. Moves that looked routine on TV during the World Cup were exciting to see live. Live, the degree of difficulty is much more apparent. Dribbles and passes that are made in traffic that seemingly shouldn't work go through and leave everyone breathless.
- At half, many substitutions are made. Because it is a friendly match, there is no limit to the switches a team makes. Chelsea puts in Drogba... I am stoked
- HSV continues to inch closer to scoring a goal in the second half. A funny series of events occurs when Chelsea defender Branislav Ivanovic cuts off HSV striker Jonathan Pitroipa to get to a long ball, but doesn't touch it and continues to block him off as the ball rolls a good 20 yards out of bounds, irritating Pitroipa. Next possession, Pitroipa comes from behind Randy Moss style to beat Ivanovic to the ball, cuts inside turning him around, then dribbles the ball back outside leaving him in the dust for a wide open shot on goal. It's blocked, but Pitroipa got his revenge making Ivanovic look silly to the amusement of the crowd.
- HSV finally pulls through, this time on a bad error by Chelsea's defenders who allow a bounding ball to get behind them just outside of the goal area. This happened a couple times before without consequence, but this time Mladen Petric - who had been going all out all game for HSV - beat the goalie to the ball with a risky high flying kick to put the ball in the back of the net! The crowd goes absolutely bonkers! A split second later and the goalie gets the ball and Petric's cleats in his face, perfectly timed strike. In the 72nd minute, we wonder if the game will end in a draw and how Chelsea will respond.
- Drogba had been playing facilitator since coming in at half. There was a nice behind-the-back pass to Anelka to get by three defenders (before Anelka is called for a questionable handball). But after the score, he goes into kill mode. He's built like a linebacker at 6-2, 220 or 230, but is faster than everyone on the field. He beats one defender to the ball before crossing him up and getting the ball to the goalie, Frank Rost, who smartly was in position to make the stop. More to come from him later.
- HSV deflects a corner twice, missing the goal by inches to the left. I jump up thinking it's in it was so close. It's late, but the crowd can feel another goal coming on.
- HSV gets an unlikely hero in Heung Min Son, a new transfer at only 18 years and one month old (born in 1992, younger than my brother. holy crap) from South Korea. He gets the ball and with apparently the hugest set of cahones ever crosses over Portugese national team starter Ricardo Carvalho and puts the ball past the keeper for the leading goal. Pandemonium! Everyone is hugging and jumping as "HSV Forever and Ever" (the team theme) blares over the loudspeaker. The stadium shifts from Hamburg to Cloud 9.
- No less than 2 minutes later, Didier "Manimal" "Two-Time EPL Golden Boot Winner" "I made peace in the Ivory Coast, but I will eat your babies" Drogba dribbles into four HSV defenders, leaving two of them on the ground and one of them facing backwards before unleashing a laser-guided rocket-propelled missile at Rost, who gets a finger on it to poke it out of bounds. There are no words to describe the crowds reaction. Some mixture of stunned, astonished, and a collective crapping-of-the-pantalones comes close. The girl next to me, no older than 7 years old sums it up perfectly: silent with hands over her mouth, eyes bulging, folded up on top of her seat with her knees to her chest. Earlier I didn't know if she was much of a fan because she wasn't reacting to some brilliant soccer, but she was completely aware of this moment. Priceless
- The crowd holds its breath through the corner a few more Chelsea strikes until time runs out and the fans go crazy again. Johannes and I go down to the pitch to try and get a HSV jersey from one of the players, but we realize they've all exchanged theirs with Chelsea's and they aren't going to give those up.
Absolutely phenomenal. Recounting this is pumping me up for the Paris St. Germaine match tonight. In other news, I've been to the Pantheon and the Louvre so far in Paris, I'll try and get a post up about that soon. Unfortunately my hostel charges for Wifi access, so I have to chill at cafés to post entries, photos, or even tweets. Not the worst thing in the world, just not convenient for frequent updates.
After spending an enjoyable day in Hamburg and a couple quaint nights in Lüneburg, Johannes, Clara, and I made a trip to Berlin. Hamburg was a great introduction to Germany and Europe with its canals, fancy architecture, and ridiculous cars (seriously, I saw 4 Ferraris, 2 Aston Martins, and 2 Lamborghinis, not to mention countless BMWs and Mercedes), but if Hamburg was a slice of Europe, Berlin was an entire pie. Here are the notes I took about our stay:
- Traveled to Berlin by train from Lüneburg, which took 2.5 hours by train, and found the hostel where we would be spending the night, a nice place called Seven East
- We walk around the corner to rent bikes for a day, which was very crucial. We wouldn't have seen half of what we saw walking or taking the Metro and gave me a real feel for the city, especially as I was the navigator.
- When I asked if I could have a helmet to go along with the bike, the rental lady looked at me as if I asked for training wheels (I know this for a fact because I asked that moments later). So I traveled the city sans helmet hair (sorry mom, at least I tried). The first time I ride a bike for about 7 years, give or take a few instances, and I have to navigate traffic in the third largest city in Europe without a helmet (and later, in the rain)... exciting!
- We started off towards the Berliner Dom, a large cathedral in the East side that's all blinged out in the traditional style. From the rooftop we could see all of Berlin
- We biked up to the Berlin TV Tower, the tallest tower in the city with the intentions of going to the top to see all of Berlin, but then we realized we already did that and decided to go to lunch instead.
- To get to the lunch spot, we rode all the way down (about 3 km) Unter Den Liden - the most famous street in Berlin. There are many government and old-fashioned buildings lining the street until we got to the Brandenburger Gate, which separated East and West Berlin along with the Wall pre-1990. It looks kinda like the Arc d'Triomph and is surrounded by the US, Great Britain, and French embassies, as well as Hotel Adlon, the most famous hotel in Berlin.
- We continued down past the President's house; Johannes and Clara had difficulty describing his position in the country, but I got the sense he wasn't very important - the Chancellor is the top dog in Germany.
- We finally arrived at Weitzman, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant famous for its Schnitzel and Spätzle, which is definitely the name of the German Cheech and Chong in an alternate universe. I had eaten Schnitzel everywhere I went, so I tried the Spätzle. It was freaking fantastic! Noodles with cheese tomatoes and mushrooms all mixed together and cooked in a way that they all stuck to each other and you had to use a fork and knife to cut out bites. Rejuvenated we cycled back up Unter Den Liden.
- When we got back to the Brandenburger Gate, we saw storm clouds rolling in. Johannes suggested that we head to the Sony Center, an open air covered mall that has restaurants and entertainment. With the rain just beginning to fall as we entered we bought tickets for Toy Story 3D in IMAX. Pixar didn't let us down.
- The rain had just stopped when we left, so we biked home and prepared for dinner. Again Johannes came up with a big suggestion: eating out at a Singapore/Malaysian restaurant on a trendy street. The food there was sooo good, cheap, and in huge proportions, I really felt terrible leaving some of my chicken with peanut and coconut milk sauce untouched. The final bill was 40 Euros, but my cousins advised me to tip only 2 euros (5%), because anything more may be taken as an insult?!? Whatever, I guess I'll take it
- We found a bar that Johannes could get into (he's only 16 and can drink in Germany, but not go into clubs, which you must be 18 years old for) and met a kid from Michigan who was visiting a German girl who did an exchange program at his high school. Naturally, with the world being as small as it is, his hometown was five minutes from the place we had the Lauer family reunion 3 years ago. (The night before in Lüneburg, I got a free drink after talking with the bartender, who exchanged in Argus, right outside of South Bend, IN) We stayed until 2 before heading back to the hostel to call it a night.
Today we biked around a bit in the Medieval section of town before heading to the train back to Hamburg, where I'll be seeing Hamburger SV play Chelsea!
Last note: for whatever reason, my German phone isn't connecting to Twitter. I'll give it another shot, but if this doesn't work I won't be able to post as often as I'd like to up there.
…
I wrote that all a couple days ago when I didn’t have an internet connection. Right now, I am sitting at Crepes A Gogo, a stone’s throw away from the Pantheon, drinking café au lait and eating a lemon crepe. I’ll update about the incredible Chelsea-HSV match and my Paris adventure soon with pictures.
