Never Regret Something That Once Made You Smile

As I've gotten older, I think I have followed the pattern many others have followed: I've tried to "mellow," and to some extent I have succeeded. Unlike others my age, given my circumstances, I may have held on to a few of the more liberal tendencies longer than have my contemporaries, but in any case I have made it an effort to learn, to grow, even if it is not always linear. To that extent, I have cut back on my drinking in recent years: I never let alcohol get too out of control, I've never been arrested or faced a DUI or anything of that nature, yet in years gone by I have to admit, I could put down a few and come back for more. As I have aged, my alcohol consumption has gone down a bit, and most likely will continue to diminish. So what that means is that when I do choose to drink, there is a bit more meaning behind it than when I was a youngster.

Tonight, I had a few. I did not get plowed, I did not drive, but I did feel relaxed when I decided to call it quits and go back to my hotel room (a quaint cottage in Oregon off of Highway 58, The Cascade Motel). The bar was a dive bar by any account, young Oregonians playing pool and music and smoking inside (yes, evidently that is still allowed in parts of the US). I was about to leave, when I noticed a number of coasters tacked to the wall behind me, all of which had various words of wisdom penned to them. Some were absurd, some less than what I would like to post here, but one stood out for me:

"Never Regret Something That Once Made You Smile"

I'm sorry that I could not read the author's name, yet I have to admit it struck me nonetheless. "Never regret something that once made you smile." How simple, yet how beautiful. How many times have we done something we enjoyed, something that made us feel happy, something that made us feel connected with the world or with another person, only to be told later that we should regret what we have done? How many times has religion, or friends, or some notion of "ethics" told us after the fact that what we did was remiss, regrettable, wrong?

I'm not proud of every decision I have made in my life. Like all human beings, there are things in my past which are checkered, things which would not stand up as G-rated in Disney court, mistakes I have made, yet what does that matter? I can truly say that in my entire life, I have never forced anybody in to anything he/she did not want to do, and with that in mind, why should I regret something I have done in the past? Why should I regret something that in the moment was right for both of us?

People will judge us--me in this case--by their own standards. I had two professionals this last year who felt they were anointed by God himself to decide what was right or wrong, yet all I can say to that is rubbish. (Actually, my choice of words is stronger, though again, as I get older, I regret when I must choose profanity to express my point.) Why do others feel they have a right to judge what happens in an individual's life or in his heart?

I've done some things in my past that made me smile and yet which, if I were to explain them here, would not sound G-rated. So what? I can honestly say that I have never done anything against another's will, and with that in mind, I'll choose not to regret those things that have made me smile.

Bush Does Something Right

As you can probably tell, I'm definitely not a huge fan of George Bush Jr., but IMHO he did something right yesterday. On 23 Dec 2008, Bush pardoned Charles Winters. Most of us, myself included, have (had) no idea who Charles Winters was, but something in the headline enticed me so I clicked it. Winters was born a Boston Irish Protestant who went on to become a produce exporter. No big deal, except that along the way he also supplied three B-17 bombers to the fledgling state of Israel, bombers which by many accounts were key to allowing Israel to win the 1948 Arab-Israeli war. Winters was later convicted of violating the US Neutrality Act, and served 18 months in federal prison, after which he went on to live a quiet, anonymous life until his death in 1984. You can read more about his story elsewhere, but there are two points that fascinate me:

1. How did an ordinary man, a John Doe by any account, pull off such an accomplishment? Arguably, what he, along with two others, did turned the tide in the war for an independent Jewish state. These were ordinary people, commoners not famous or rich or powerful, yet the three of them may very well have had a pivotal role in the birth of a nation.
2. How can something this miraculous not be better known? I admit, I don't always remember all the historical facts I would like to, but I usually at least vaguely recall hearing of things such as this, even if I do not remember all the details, names or dates. For that matter, even Winters's own son did not know about his father's accomplishments until after his death.

I'm not going to begin to say that I can understand or answer either of the above. In particular, the second question is one which I have long pondered: How can history be so selective in terms of what it chooses to herald or to bury?

Everybody has heard of Francis Gary Powers, the CIA U2 pilot shot down in 1960 over Sverdlovsk, smack dab in the middle of the Soviet Union. Virtually nobody, however knows the story of McKone and Olmsted, the two survivors of the Soviet shootdown of an RB-47 in international waters just one month after the Powers incident. In both cases, the survivors were held and interrogated by the Soviets then released many months later.

Why is it that one of the stories is known by every schoolchild, yet the second one, almost identical, is an enigma? The only key difference I can see is that Powers was "caught red-handed" in the sense he was clearly over the Soviet Union, while the RB-47 was shotdown in international waters. Aside from that, the stories are almost identical. In any case, I'll use this chance to herald in my own way three unknown heroes: Charles Winters, John McKone, and Bruce Olmsted.

Alice's Restaurant 2008

It's Thanksgiving 2008. I decided this year not to bother with cooking, but instead took advantage of the supermarket pre-cooked dinners. Not being a huge fan of turkey, I opted for ham and prime rib instead, along with a host of appetizers, shrimp being the top prize. Lest you consider going this route at some point in the future, I should warn you that "pre-cooked" does not mean "pre-cooked:" The prime rib was raw and needed over an hour in the oven, ditto for the mashed potatoes, yet I can't complain about the misleading advertising. If my worst complaint in the world were to be that I had to cook my Thanksgiving dinner, that would indeed be an obscene complaint. Minor inconvenience at best, especially in light of how many people in this world--this country--do not have the means to feed themselves and their families. Yeah, Freddie Meyer misled me, but that's minor...we're a land that can feed the world many times over, yet we fail to take care of our own, much less the rest of the world. Then again, given the selfishness in our society, this should be no surprise. The scorecard is mixed:

• This last year has served as a reminder of worldly selfishness. Carie, Laurie--Think of your cruelty as you turn your backs on those who need help. Existential phenomenology and naturopathy my ass. You had the ability to make a difference, and instead you chose not to care.
  

• On the other hand, I have met some wonderful people this year. In spite of the unbelievable cruelty that I have seen, there has also been unbelievable kindness. I can only pray that somehow, at the end of days, that which is positive overcomes that which is cruel. From one orphaned heart to another, thank you.

• Above all else, we have young men and women serving in our military in foreign lands, thousands of miles from home, most of them away from home for the first time. Though many of us, myself included, question the political motives behind the effort, none of us for a moment can question the altruism of those soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines who are there. If even one of you were to read this, please understand this: We love you and thank you for what you represent. You are, indeed, the hope for what we as a country and a people represent. Thank you, stay safe, and come home.
  

If I sound more flippant than usual, it's a result of "Alice's Restaurant" playing in the background. I first heard this song many, many years ago while celebrating Thanksgiving in a college dorm. It's amazing how some things so simple can become a defining moment in one's life, and for me, "Alice's Restaurant" represents such a moment. I remember trying to cook for myself the first time: Scrambled eggs. I had never done this before, I was horrified they would stick, so I stirred them continuously--vigorously--as they cooked, and in return I wound up with dry, fried pellets. Years later, a girlfriend would explain to me that my efforts had completely dehydrated the eggs...still, as bad as they were, I again could not complain: I had food, and a future, in front of me. The future would hold both good times and bad, and I try to remember the warmth, the friends, the lovers, while trying to forget the cruel. Sometimes this succeeds, sometimes it fails, but in either case, I thank those who have chosen to be my friend and/or my lover over the years. Even when things did not work out perfectly and for all time, I remember you, I honor your memory, and I thank you. I won't list you by name, as you know who you are, but thank you. All the best to you and yours, today and for all time.

Thank you

I'm definitely at the point in my life that I no longer enjoy seeing birthdays come along, but for those of you who participated in the passage of yet another year, thank you. For the emails, the Facebook postings, the incredible couple of evenings, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Teatro Zinzanni

Many years ago I remember walking along the San Francisco waterfront and stumbling across a rather odd looking building---actually a large tent---housing a show called "Teatro Zinzanni." I couldn't really tell what it was about, but from the brief description and paintings on the outside walls, I assumed it was some sort of dinner theater, a bit offbeat to be sure. I was definitely curious, and I made a mental note to visit it sometime. As it turned out, I never did make the show while in the Bay Area, but as an incredibly pleasant and unexpected birthday gift, a friend just took me to the Seattle version. (Which, as it turns out, is where the show actually began.) The only way I can describe TZ is incredible!

Teatro Zinzanni is housed in a large, circular "spiegeltent," a huge canvas and wooden structure with mirrors ringing all around. The three hour show consists of a five course dinner interspersed with cabaret, comedy, circus acts and improv audience participation. The theme of the current show ("Quest for a Queendom") is loosely based on the Queen's yearly search for her new consort, along with some bungling attempts to steal the crown jewels. While the plot is humorous in its own right, it is by no means what the event is really about; what makes Teatro special is the small intimate setting, with the cast literally only a few feet from the audience, frequently wandering around the dinner tables. (We actually had inner ring seats, which literally put us in the front row, making the experience even more vivid.) Add to this a few very embarrassed members of the audience who get drafted into the action, and you have the makings of three hours of non-stop smiles and laughs. The show is a little bit racey in spots, though I don't think it would offend anybody except for the most prudish. (If I were to rate it by movie standards, it probably warrants a PG, yet it's not something children would enjoy. It's a mid-twenties and up type of evening.) If you want to compare it to something you may have experienced, think of it as Cirque du Soleil, but on a small interactive basis with a five-star, five course dinner included.

More often than not, dinner shows sacrifice on the "dinner" part of the experience, providing substandard food almost as an afterthought. Teatro Zinzanni doesn't make this mistake. All five courses of the dinner are of spectacular quality, with the first course set out for you before the show begins, and the remaining four courses intertwined with the show itself. I lack the ability to describe culinary experiences adequately, but suffice it to say this was one of the better meals I have had in a long time and leave it at that. (Even the quantity of food was sufficient!) Also, for those who are not sure of wine pairings, they offer a "Wine Flight" of half glasses served with each course. You wind up getting a total of two and a half glasses of various wines over the three hours, just enough to help you enjoy the evening without impairing the drive home.

After nearly five years in Seattle, I would have to rate TZ as one of the best, most memorable experiences I have had since moving here. The dinner, the show, the entire event was as close to perfect as one can ever expect, and I really cannot think of any shortcomings. Highly recommended for the perfect evening!

Gold vs. Bally: An Upgrade in My Life

In the last blog, I attempted to define the meaning of life, to explain why we are here and to offer advice on the divine connections we are meant to make in this world. In this blog, I offer advice on gym membership. Let there be no doubt about it: Mark's Musings covers it all.

I've belonged to a couple of different fitness centers in my life, 24 Hour Fitness as well as Bally Total Fitness. Both of these are pretty much alike: Price conscious offerings which compete against each other with an array of membership types, each a bit more confusing than that of the other, hoping to snare couch potatoes into lifting a pen, if not a barbell, and signing that contract. When I started to work at Microsoft, I noticed a Gold's Gym right around the corner, and I tried to be honest with myself: I need to work out, even though it is not the highest desire in my life. My current Bally membership, now dirt-cheap since I made it through the first year, was not going to work for me since it meant a twenty minute ride each way. That excuse, as well as the cost of gas, would be an indisputable, unconquerable reason to bypass the daily workout. If I truly were to get back into any sort of a workout habit, it would require I join this gym which I pass twice each day on my way to and from work. So, with both dedication and remorse, I entered the gym and inquired about membership.

Unlike Bally and 24 Hour Fitness, which truly do seem to be clones of each other based on lowest cost and an industrial feel, Gold's Gym was entirely different from the moment I entered:

• The lobby was truly a lobby, with a fireplace, lounge chairs, flat panel TV and even a guest computer
• Guest towels were freely handed out at the front desk
• Wood---something which resembled mahogany---was the key construction material, abundant throughout the lobby, the workout areas, even the locker rooms. (Yes, the lockers are made of deep, dark routed mahogany, not plywood or metal!)
• Each cardio machine has a personal TV monitor mounted on it, with 40 user selectable channels
• Classes are free, rather than an extra three dollars for each yoga adventure.
• Now the ultimate in decadence: Something called a "SuitMate," a breadmachine-sized device in the locker room into which you place your wet swimsuit which is then squeezed in order to wring out the water! Voila, no more soggy gym bags.

I signed up.

Yes, it is true that you get what you pay for, and Gold's is about twice the price of a comparable membership at Bally. (Maybe even a tad more, but let's keep the math simple and say double the price.) Still, this feels right for me. It's funny, at some earlier point in my life, I probably would have preferred cheap and plain as "more real" to mahogany, but at least for now this feels better: An attempt to do better and to be more as opposed to accepting the lowest common denominator. Maybe this choice is more a statement on myself, or what I have been through this last year, than anything else. I'll ponder that question as I trample away the hours on an elliptical.

Back online...

It's been awhile since I last wrote anything here, and if I am not careful then I will soon discover another five year gap in my blog, so I'll put a few words down today.

The job at Microsoft is exciting, with many parallels to Apple back in the original PowerBook days. I'll write about those similarities at some point in the future, but I'm just not in the mood for that topic at the moment. (It is, after all Labor Day, so writing about work would be a heresy!) Suffice it for now to say that I am enjoying work for a change, a far cry from the small biz agony.

A friend emailed me last night, and in replying to her I stumbled across something that did feel interesting to discuss, so I think I will plagiarize myself and borrow some of those thoughts to put down here. The question was one of everlasting love and finding it in this world. It's an often asked question, one that I could discuss for hours. Most people in this world (or at least our society, our portion of the world) truly don't even seem to think about the question much less try to answer it, but it is one I find myself pondering a great deal. Actually, when I get into the question, it expands to more than just a question of love, in that it embodies love as well as our very reason for existence. I am convinced that we all have an answer for being, and that answer is different for each of us: What is right for me is not right for you or for anybody else. I do know that in my life, in my heart, there are certain axioms that cannot be ignored: Honesty, sincerity, trust, respect are an intrinsic part of me and my life, whether we are talking about love or friendship or simply life in general. From there, it moves on to experiencing all I can. At this point in my life, physical things mean less and less to me, while experiences mean more and more. I want to experience as much as I can, to be open to almost any possibility. I think my limits are far broader than most people are willing to consider, and I believe that only by pushing ourselves and our own biases and limitations can we learn more and grow into more. As somebody very wise once told me, "Change never comes about as the result of comfort," so being open to new possibilities is fundamental to my belief system.

Yes, there are limits, some things I have arbitrarily decided I have no desire to try: Hard drugs, for example, are one thing I have never tried and have no desire to try, so I do draw my own limit there. Yes, I've occasionally tried the soft drug scene---I've even inhaled!!---and that was interesting, something I'm glad I tried though I have no desire to make it an ongoing part of my life. Similarly, I know at least one gay friend who reads this blog, and I would never for a moment presume to tell him that what is right for me is also right for him, nor would he do that to me. I'm definitely heterosexual, and I have no desire to try homosexuality, so I draw that line consciously, acknowledging that while that limit is appropriate for me, it may not apply for other people. (Sexually, I'm somewhere between a "vanilla" and a "swinger," but that is a different blog for a different time.) Suffice it to say that I am open to trying almost anything, with a few self-defined boundaries I impose upon myself. My limits are too broad for some, too narrow for others, but exactly right for me. That's where it should be, so long as I remember to respect the limits others draw for themselves.

Ultimately, in some strange way I don't understand, I feel that if we explore what we need to explore, question what we need to question and accept what we need to accept, it does lead to that ultimate answer, that ultimate love. Unfortunately, unlike the storybook endings we always read, I don't believe that we will definitely find the ultimate answer in this life. Try as we might, we may not find it, in large part because I think we need to find others in this world to help us discover our true course. I don't believe that there is "one" person, one soulmate, who allows us to achieve this end, but instead I feel there is some small "horde" of people we are meant to connect with during our lifetime. I don't believe it is a list of people connected by blood, but instead it is a group of people who provide mental and emotional wholeness. If we don't find those people we need to connect with, or if we do find them but fail to do for each other what we need to, then the answer eludes us, at least in this incarnation. In that case, maybe we pass on to the next life, a step closer to the answer.

I do not believe that blood determines who we are; to me, birth is a matter of genetics, of genome, but not of purpose or goal. It is far more important to me to seek and to find those meant to be a part of our lives. We don't unfortunately, simply fall into right crowd at birth. Life is a journey, more torturous for some of us than for others. If we are lucky, we find the people we are meant to find in our journey, and if we are extremely lucky we then give each other that which we are meant to give each other.

I mentioned somebody named "Roscoe" in a previous blog, and this is probably the time to explain him. This was back in the early eighties, I was a young airman who had just gone on leave, venturing from the Defense Language Institute in Monterey back to my college town of Riverside, CA to visit my old college classmates, many of whom were still in school there. The flight landed in Ontario, which meant a bus ride to River City. I was proud of what I was doing in the military, so even though I was on leave I elected to wear my Air Force uniform. I felt ecstatic: I was young, clean, ambitious, not cocky but bright enough, and I was excited by all that lie in front of me, both in terms of that day as well as the years ahead. I got on the bus for the ride back to my old campus, and a few minutes later I noticed another rider coming my way. He was a very large man, probably in his thirties, which to a young person in his twenties seemed ancient. He was not terribly neat, a laborer of some sort, with the definite "high school droput" aura about him. I squirmed, afraid--certain--that he was going to sit next to me. Alas, yes, he did park next to me, and I suddenly dreaded what I felt the next hour or so would hold.

For the first few minutes, nothing was said, and I felt glad that the first quarter of the trip was complete. Unfortunately, this silence was to be broken when he turned to me and attempted to start a conversation, starting off with an observation about my uniform and wanting to know about my service. I attempted to be as friendly as possibly, explaining that I was on my way back to visit UC Riverside. He listened, politely, not overly intense yet definitely paying attention to my words. After I had run through my discourse of who I was and what I had planned in front of me, the conversation took the natural turn towards his story. Though not terribly interested in what I felt he would have to say, I feigned politeness and asked.

Roscoe started by confirming what I suspected, that yes, he had dropped out of high school and that he was a mechanic. He went on to tell me some details which I quickly forgot, as I was not really interested in his story. I listened to the drivel as best I could, glancing at the watch from time to time to reassure myself that time really was moving forward. Then, something changed. This large, ugly, dirty man started talking about his daughter, a toddler, and how he was on his way to see her after putting in a twelve hour workday. He explained the history with his former girlfriend, how they had been in love, how they had fallen out, and how they nonetheless kept in touch so that the child would know them both. He wasn't sappy, he wasn't boastful, but it was obvious to me that this little girl was the most important thing in the world to him. He did not feel he had much of a future beyond her, and yet he was perfectly happy as long as he knew he would be able to see her. After the better part of an hour, our trip was drawing near its end, when he told me something simple, yet something I remember to this day: Remember who you are, remember why you are here, and remember the important things in life. We then said good-bye as he disembarked.

In that hour, my mind had done a complete 180 degree turn. Rather than feeling discomfort, even disdain, for the man, by the end of the trip I felt perfectly at ease with him. He was my complete opposite, down to the color of our skin, yet by befriending me during that trip, and by concluding it with selfless advice, he won a spot in my heart which exists nearly thirty years later. His words had not been overly wise: They were honest, sincere, and heartfelt, in no way earth shattering, yet his brief attempt to reach out to another human being---to offer what he could in the way of advice to a young man---it tugs at my heart to this day. In some way, shape or form, Roscoe was meant to be a part of my life for that hour. Even though he had nothing obvious to offer me, his sincerity, his attempt to befriend a stranger and to offer what he could in the way of advice, that all remains a part of me to this day. He taught me more about overcoming bias and prejudice in that hour than I can possibly put in words. In a small way, I became a better person by meeting him during that short bus ride.

I've met others over the years I know I was meant to connect with. In some cases, we were able to provide to each other what we were meant to provide: Growth, warmth, knowledge. Even though we may have gone our separate ways for one reason or another, even though a relationship may have come to an end or a friendship may have drawn cold when we moved apart, the memories still remain a part of each other's life, and we are better for having known each other.

Unfortunately, some of those meetings predestined for my life didn't turn out the way they should have. Friendship and growth suddenly and unexpectedly fell prey to bitterness, to some dysfunctional resonance which I cannot begin to explain or articulate. We failed. I won't sugarcoat the truth: These failed meetings are painful, if for no other reason than one simple word: Why? What happened, what went wrong, why did this person---somebody I trusted and respected, why did he/she turn so unexpectedly? Why?

I, like very other person on this planet, have seen some relationships flourish when I never would have thought it possible, while others which seemed destined for meaningfulness floundered for some absurd, inarticulate reason. Roscoes of the world have befriended me, and much to my surprise I have learned and grown from them, even when I least expected it. In other cases, young, intelligent people who had so much to offer in terms of help and growth have gone dark on me for reasons I literally cannot comprehend much less articulate. With that in mind, grasp what you can: Take advantage of those who are meant to be a part of your life---friends, lovers, associates, or even fellow bus passengers. Remember who you are, remember why you are here, remember the important things in life, and if possible, help somebody else understand those things as well. As best I can tell, that's why we really are here.

Germany Trip Recap

I made it back home and am in the process of trying to get back in the swing of my "normal" life, doing laundry, checking bills, and all the other nuisances one can forget about during a vacation. I'm probably in denial of jet-lag (I always swear I am immune to it), so please forgive me if parts of this posting are a bit spacey. It looks as if my Microsoft contract will start this Wednesday, which gives me a couple of extra days to pull odds and ends together before getting into what by all accounts sounds like a fire-fighting mode. (I'm not saying that in a pejorative sense---instead, I'm actually looking forward to some excitement and a chance to swing for the fences.)

As for the Germany trip, here are a few summary thoughts----

Food and Drink:
I was surprised that the traditional German foods such as schnitzel and wurst were not more prominent, but then again it's probably true that visitors to the US wonder where all the hot dog, hamburger and apple pie stands are. The most popular items, the foods which really seemed to be everywhere in Germany, were the Döner (see photo) and curry-wurst, neither of which really excited me. Italian restaurants were very popular, and I have to admit they were very good, to the point I had to force myself to avoid them and to look for more typically German food. As I mentioned earlier, breads and baked goods are very big items, and even though I am not a dough-head in my real life, I tried enough to realize these offerings were excellent. And, alas, it turns out I am not a true fan of German beer, as it is too "hoppy" for my taste buds. Of all the German beers, my favorite was Kölsch, which is a very clear beer that should be enjoyed in small glasses (it has no carbonic acid and goes stale quickly, so two 20 cl glasses are preferable to one 40 cl glass).

ICE Trains:
The high-speed inter-city express (ICE) trains were truly spectacular---Not cheap by any means, but clean, fast, efficient, definitely the way to travel in Europe if you can. (Though the sleeper car experience on one of the older regional style trains is something you must try at least once before you die!) One weird thing about the ICE trains still escapes me: You are allowed to reserve seats on them if you like, and I did so on one of my trips, only to discover that I could not get to the wagon which contained my assigned seat. It turns out that quite often they will "join" two different trains by electrically and mechanically linking them together at the engine cars (see picture). I stress that these are two completely different trains which have been joined and travel as one, and I am not 100% sure why this is done, though I suspect it is one way to move trains around, repositioning them without having to pay an engineer to do so. I'll research this a bit to see if I can figure it out, but suffice it to say that if you get on the wrong train, you will not be able to cross from one to the other in transit. (Oh sure, you could try that James Bond thing, but I would rather save that for the sleeper car...)

Language:
One of the highlights of this trip was to try my high school German, which is many more years ago than I care to admit. I was surprised to see how much of it came back so quickly, and in fact at the end of the trip some of the hotel clerks were more than willing to hold the conversation with me in German rather than switching to English as I had lamented in one of my previous posts. I also followed the Olympics and the Georgian controversy in German. While this was slow, my understanding seems to have been pretty accurate now that I compare what I thought I had read and heard in German with what I am now reading and hearing in English. (I would have been really bummed had the Georgian confict actually turned out to have been wildfires in Atlanta!) For that matter, I actually found myself dreaming in German words last night...I'm not sure it was anything meaningful, but there were a lot of "wollens" and "sollens" in my dreams.

I'm in the mood right now to get my hands on some German CD's, DVD's, newspapers, and podcasts to see how far I can go with this. I would love to return to Germany again, only this time be able to use the language exclusively from day one rather than a mixture of German and English.

The Four Cities:
Quite by accident, I seemed to pick an almost perfect set of cities to visit. Recall that initially, when I thought I only had a week, I was planning to spend my entire time in just Munich, but when the trip slipped from one to two weeks, I was able to see Munich, Hamburg, Berlin and Köln---the four biggest cities in Germany. In addition to being the largest, these four cities also really represent the four sides of the country, with Munich in the south (Bavaria), Hamburg in the north, Berlin in the east, and Köln in the west. Munich, as I have mentioned before, was very nice, albeit almost like a bedroom community. There was nothing to dislike, but rather it was just a bit too quiet for my liking, without the hustle and bustle that I enjoy in a large town. Hamburg was interesting: Very beautiful, very cosmopolitan, and I would love to see it again, although the seedy imagery of the Reeperbahn still lingers in my mind as something I am not in a hurry to revisit. Berlin was interesting, though I spent way too short a time there to be able to assess it properly; suffice it to say that it was far less crowded than I expected it to be, and the Berlin Wall was an emotional highlight I will remember for the rest of my life. Without a doubt, Köln was my favorite part of the trip, with the town perfect in all regards: It had the hustle I like without being too crowded, people seemed a bit more friendly than elsewhere in Germany, the boat trips down the Rhine were every bit as fantastic as were my previous trips on the Thames, and what can I possibly say to describe the Dom Cathedral!! In short, all four cities were incredible, and I am already planning my next trip back.

Miscellaneous:
So here is one thing you will most likely never read in the travel guides, but as I mentioned previously I really missed ice and ice cold drinks! It seems that ice just is not that "hot" an item in Europe, because everyplace I went the story seemed to be the same: If you ask for a lot of ice, you are lucky if you even get a cube or two. One of the first things I did back home this morning was to head off to the local Denny's, and I took a great deal of pleasure and enjoyment from that glass of water, filled with ice; somehow, it felt incredibly comforting and satisfying. Still, warm drinks are a very small price to pay for all of the beauty of Germany.

The hefty price, of course, is the financial one. I don't even want to think about how much I spent on this two week trip, and unfortunately I don't see that gap closing any too soon, even though in theory the dollar is gaining strength against foreign currencies. The euro and dollar should, in theory be at parity (one to one exchange rate) since that was the initial pricing point just a few years ago when the euro was introduced. For most of this trip, however, the rate was about 1.6 to one. Very few good buys could be found, and even the "eating like a local" sandwich and soda will run about $10. That, unfortunately, is very painful if for no other reason than that it makes trips back to Europe far less frequent. So, with that, it's time to start pinching pennies again as I dream of that next trip back....

Back in Munich

It's mid-afternoon on Friday the 15th of August, and I have just arrived back in Munich after a ride on the ICE from Köln. As it turns out, this is actually a German holiday, but nobody could tell me what holiday it is. (Turns out it is Assumption Day for Maria Himmelfahrt, and it really, truly is only celebrated in Bavaria.) Anyway, I am staying in the InterCity Hotel right off the hauptbahnhof...it's not a bad hotel, and it really is literally just outside the train station, so it will make getting to the airport an easy thing tomorrow morning. The flight leaves at about 9:30 AM, so I can't make this too late a night.

There were a few more Köln thoughts I failed to post before leaving the town, so let me make sure to do that before I forget.

For a really great, authentic, locals-type of Biergarten, try Weinhaus Vogel Eigelstein 74 50668 Köln. This is not for the tourists, but they were friendly, and the food was cheap. The beer garden is small but wonderful, and I had a grilled platter (chicken, beef, etc.) which was out of this world. Make sure to wash it all down with the regional beer, Kölsch.

Another locals spot that I really enjoyed was an Italian bistro, Cappu Vino, at Obenmerspforten 14 50667 Köln. There are probably numerous places such as this throughout the city, but something about the service, location, and bright, cheery atmosphere made this one stand out. Just be aware, however that in either of these two spots smokers are welcome. While they did not reek of cigarettes, if you are the type who is absolutely down on smoking and you can't stand being around it, then look elsewhere---but, you will miss out on some real local charm.



As with all vacations, you really dread the end, but as expensive as this one has been, and as many pounds as it has added to my body, it definitely is time to be drawing the trip to a close and heading back home. I'll have one more night in Bavaria, and I think there is a football game on, so I'm going to venture out to try to find it.

Quick Köln Update

It's Thursday, my last full day in Köln before catching a train back to Munich tomorrow and the flight back to Seattle on Saturday. I'm amazed at how comfortable this city feels to me, how I can spend hours walking around it, feeling very much at ease, very much like a local.



I spent yesterday walking around the shopping district (the locals shopping area, not really one for tourists), then spent about three hours on boat cruises down the Rhine. I'm certain this is my favorite German city, it's an absolutely amazing place! It's funny that I only decided to come here as a flip of the coin thing while in the Berlin train station!

Keyboards over here are a bit odd, with things such as the z and y keys exchanged. Even typing a short note takes about twice as long as normal, and you get to use the backspace key a lot. More later, as I want to get out and enjoy this final full day.

Köln Rocks!

Since I am tired I'll keep this posting short and will elaborate more tomorrow, but for now I'll simply say that Köln (aka Cologne, Koeln) really rocks, far beyond what I had imagined! This is turning out to be my favorite part of the trip, with a town that has just the right amount of everything: Historical yet modern and clean, cosmopolitan, moderately priced (at least by German standards) and perhaps even a bit friendlier than other German towns.

I took the overnight train trip from Berlin, getting on the sleeper about 12:30 AM and finding my way to the little compartment. It was just as described in Cats: Little basin to wash your face in, conductor coming along wanting to know if you would have coffee or tea with breakfast, and a crank to shut the window should you sneeze. It was a short trip, but I slept very well, with the gentle rocking and quiet whirring in the background very therapeutic. We arrived in Köln about 6:30 AM, and I was without any hotel reservations, plus it was raining. I was fortunate in that I walked to the nearest hotel which not only had a room available for the evening, but they even let me have it early at no additional charge. So, I was able to have a quick bite to eat then get a bit more sleep before venturing out on the town.

I took another one of the proverbial siteseeing buses, but this one was really great. It was an hour and a half which showed the diversity of the town, starting with the explanation that it is one of the older cities in Europe, a Roman city state complete with city walls (a small bit of which still remains). Most of the town was bombed into rubble during World War II, so even though it is an "old" city much of it has been recently rebuilt. It truly does seem to have the perfect mix: Munich was great, but a little too quiet and predictable, almost like a bedroom town. Hamburg was interesting if you could overlook the decadence of the Reeperbahn, but it was also a very "rich" town, something that is always a turn off for me. Berlin would have been interesting, but I spent very little time there since the wall was the only thing that interested me. Köln, however, seems to have the perfect mix: Fourth largest town in Germany, old sections, new sections, crowded enough to have energy yet easy to walk through. I can't adequately explain it yet, but in terms of favorite cities in the world, this might be my #2, just behind London. I booked the hotel through Friday morning, and I'll see how I feel then.

I found another resort sauna/spa, Claudius Therme, and it is basically the same as Therme Erding but at about 10% of the size and grandeur. It has the same type of layout (clothed saunas and swimming areas combined with a larger "textile-free" sauna and pool area). I won't go into much detail as it really is much as I described Therme Erding earlier, only this spa was (1) smaller and (2) easier to get to since it is in the middle of town rather than an hour out. Germany really does these saunas/spas right!

The one thing Claudius Therme has which Therme Erding did not is an aerial tramway running right overhead. Where else but Germany could you get away with running an aerail tram over what most Americans would label a nudist colony!!


It's very hard to explain the awe and wonder when you walk out of the hauptbanhaus only to look up and see something as magnificent and massive as the Dom Cathedral. I took a quick pass through it this evening and will look at it more tomorrow, but I'll simply say I am amazed that this town could have been as decimated as it was yet something this magnificent was spared. The Allies really, truly, did civilization and humanity a favor by leaving this beauty standing.

Continuing with the Cathedral Dom, I just went out and looked at it at night, and it is both the most beautiful and the most eerie site imaginable. It is so huge that even when you are quite a ways from it, it is overpowering, and the lights give it a glow which make it look quite literally like something out of this world, a veritable UFO. As much as I love London and all it has to offer, St Paul's Cathedral is nothing in terms of awe, beauty, and mystique when compared to Köln's Dom Cathedral.





I also need to talk about the Central Hotel am Dom a bit, and pay attention to the details here as you will not find this one on Travelocity's "Good Buy" list, in large part because this treasure is too good for the travel sites. First off, if you clicked on the URL for the hotel, it is misleading, as many of the pictures are of places in the local area and not of the hotel per se, yet I would argue that is not really a problem. Yes, the pics are of local businesses, but they truly are right in the neighborhood, albeit not under the hotel roof. If you want four or five star, this is not the place for you, but if you want location, clean, friendly, and (I'll say again) location, this is a six star. The room only costs me 59 euro a night (about $100),which is very good by German standards. It is literally about a three minute walk from the Köln Hbf, and there are plenty of bars, restaurants, and take-away places (yes, including a McDonalds and Starbucks) in the immediate area. You don't need to hop on a subway if you get the late night munchies or if you want to go for a walk. The rooms do have in-room baths, something a lot of hotels in this price range do not offer. The floors have just been redone, the staff is friendly, and I am pretty sure the breakfast is indeed included in the room rate...I'll follow-up on that in a day or so. In any case, here are the details:

• Central Hotel am Dom
• An den Dominikanern 3D - 50668 Köln
• ++49(0)221 13 50 88
• info@centralamdom.de

One advantage of staying at this hotel, or any hotel in the neighborhood, is that given the proximity to the Cathedral Dom and the Dom's height above anything else, you really cannot get too lost. If you don't know where the hotel is, you simply look for the spires, and you know your way home.

And, one other old standby, Starbucks, was on today's playlist. I had to try a drip coffee, and it really is more of less the same as you get in the US: Weaker than the typical German coffee. The coffee wasn't much to brag about, but how many coffee shops can boast a front patio setting like this one. (Look closely at the upper left hand edge of the picture, and yes, you will see the Starbucks sign.)

The Wall

I awoke Monday morning and left Hamburg not knowing what the day would hold for me other than that I would be taking a train to Berlin. I had a slight miscue with the journey, in that the train was late arriving in Hamburg, and with that being such an unusual event I actually left the platform before it arrived, thinking I had somehow missed it. In any case, I was rescheduled on the ICE (high-speed) train and arrived in Berlin shortly after noon.

I only had one site in Berlin that I really wanted to see: The remains of the Berlin Wall. I was able to locate it without any real trouble, and I have to admit it was a much more emotional experience than I anticipated. To see something which scarcely 20 years ago physically divided loved ones, a divide which resulted in deaths of the innocents, is amazing. The wall is now completely gone, save for a rather short segment a few hundred feet long which was left up as a monument. The original path of the wall is traced out by a row of bricks embedded in the roadway, and about a quarter of a mile away from the reminaining wall "Checkpoint Charlie" has been rebuilt, with more commercialism than I care to acknowledge. The guard shack has been rebuilt, but the "You are leaving the American sector" sign is apparently the original one. Fake soldiers stand holding flags at the checkpoint while expecting to get a euro for their picture, and another soldier on the side will stamp your passport for a couple of euros.

I was in the US Air Force at the tail end of the Cold War, so I do in some small part feel that I was some small player in the final outcome. I'm by no means delusional, I fully well accept and understand that the wall would have come down and the Soviet Union would have crumbled without me, yet I do take a pride in knowing that I was able to lend a hand to the effort. As for my duties, I was an airborne cryptologic linguist, flying in RC-135's and EC-130's. Much of what I did was (and presumably still is) classified, so suffice it to say that I was trained in Russian at the Defense Language Institute before going on to fly "missions." The official, unclassified job statement was:

"We record, transcribe, translate, analyze and report upon assigned communication frequencies. These duties may be [were] performed while airborne"

It was, without a doubt, the proudest thing I have done in my life. Though I never intended to make the military a career, it is incredible to think that I was able to spend four years of my life doing something which really had such an impact on the world. At times it really did feel like something out of a Tom Clancy book.

I mentioned a story awhile back about a young couple who died while attempting to flee from East Berlin to the West, but I could neither remember nor locate any further details. Much to my surprise, the escape appears to have been mentioned at the site with these words:

• 10 Feb. 1974 US Soldiers fail in their efforts to help two people (24 and 32 years old) who are trying to flee at 9.30 p.m.

I'm going to do some homework and see if this is the same couple I was thinking of...It sounds like them, thought I haven't been able to confirm that yet.

Candidly, with all of this emotion, the young lover story, the cold war, the personal memories brought back to me, I admit that my eyes welled up with tears.

After seeing the wall, I went back to the train station, and on a lark I bought an overnight ticket for Köln (Cologne). It's strange, but for some reason I didn't want to do the "normal" thing of finding a hotel and overnighting in Berlin, but instead the idea of drawing this into a long day and then sleeping on the train overnight sounded exciting. This is going to be unique, in that I have never tried a sleeper before...it sounds very James Bondish. So, it's about 6:00 PM and I have a little over six hours to kill before the train leaves Berlin, with an arrival at about 6:30 in the morning in Köln. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep and feel relaxed when I get off.

I'm starting to have serious fun with this language thing. It really does seem to be coming back, the reading ability is improving daily, my ear is getting better, and my confidence is ever increasing. It's funny, I'm not treating the language as accurately as I would if I were taking a class, but this stumbling around and learning in real time does seem to be working. I've had a few simple conversations now which I think might have even snowed the other party into thinking I live here (again, maybe not a native, but they aren't viewing me as a foreigner 100% of the time). When they do ask me where I am from, the usually expected answer is England, followed by Australia (Aussie land being due to the Akubra hat I wear...I very seldom wear a hat, but this is very water repellent and much preferable to an umbrella.)

I've lamented before that Germans in general seem a bit abrupt, but that is definitely not universal. I had two different men today go out of their way showing me about the Berlin Hbf (which, though new, needs more signage!) One of them, a man well into his 60's, went so far as to walk me from the "wrong" platform to the right one. And no, he did not have his hand out looking for a tip, but rather it was purely a warm and helpful gesture. I think he realized I was an American, as he tried to explain something to me about the train station being the only good thing Hitler did before the Olympics, or something of that nature. Though I couldn't tell what exactly he was saying, it was obvious he had a warm feeling for Americans. In addition to these two gents, the ticket agent who issued me the replacement ticket was the epitome of excellent customer service, friendly to the point of even complementing my attempt at German. And the McCafe guy would make Ronald proud. So yes, I still think it is valid to say that Germans are, in general, very abrupt, but you can nonetheless find many exceptions on a daily basis.
A couple of other miscellaneous thoughts on Berlin: Unlike virtually any other Hbf (Hauptbahnhof or main station), this building is very new, sleek, and architecturally modern. Most of the large stations, whether it be Hamburg, Munich, or even London for that matter, have the old semi-conical roof with a sunken departure area. This one is really beautiful by comparison.

In the train station I also found an "Upper Crust," which is one of my favorite London sandwich stations; it's been a long time since I've had one of their ham and cheese subs, and it is as good as I remember: Simple but mouthwatering.




I finally had to cave in and try McCafe, and in all honesty the frappacino counterpart they had was better than any I have ever had in ths US, in that they actually ground up the ice so that the drink was immediately sippable through a straw. Normally I have to wait ten or more minutes for it to melt before I can suck anything through.

The Pissoir

I'm going to tattle on myself. I saved a buck today, but I almost wish I had not survived the episode. I normally don't buy into the politically correct notion that "men have all the advantages in this world." I truly think this matter is mixed. Women have the upper-hand with sex, men have the upper-hand with earning power, though men tend to die at a far disproportionate rate in wars and the like. Overall, I'm going to say it's probably equity, parity, though there is one case in which my gender has the clear advantage: The need to, well, wee.

Let's face it, elimination is a basic human need, and for anatomical reasons I will not review here, the need to "wee" is more easily accomplished for men than for women. For that reason (as well as the opined notion that men drink more beer than do women!), society has made it significantly easier for men to, well, do so than for women. London, Amsterdam, Hamburg, and probably other cities all share this one trait: We give men a quick way to relieve urinary pressure, while women are forced to use more traditional (and time-consuming) methods. In London, on the West End nonetheless, one can often find temporary male urinals set up along major footpaths such as the Strand. Yes, you as a man are on your way to see the latest and greatest play, and when nature calls you can simply turn your back and take care of the matter in a state-provided urinal to go. In Amsterdam, as disgusting as this sounds, conical shells allow men to urinate directly into the Amsterdam canal below. (Don't complain to me! I think it's gross as well, though for the government of Amsterdam, a metal shell along with a hole drilled in the concrete above the canal seems to this day to be a legitimate "way to go.") In Hamburg today, rather than pay the $1 cost to relieve my bladder, I instead chose to find a free, public pissoir.

Well, today, the women of the world got their revenge on me. This pissoir, undrained, was without a doubt one of the most disgusting things I have ever experienced in my life. The stench, literally, made me gag, and even as I think of it now, nearly twelve hours later, I feel as if I must vomit.

Next time, this American will pay the buck if necessary....

Reeperbahn Part 2 and Miscellaneous Thoughts

It's Sunday evening, 10 August, and I quickly stopped by the Reeperbahn today to see how the activity compared to last night. As you might expect, it was significantly less, both in terms of the number of prostitutes, potential "Johns," and party-goers in general. I literally would say it is about 10% of what it was last night. So, if you ever want to visit the place and experience it in all of its "glory," I would advise a Saturday, or probably a Friday night, preferably in the warmer months. Also, the Grosse Freiheit, which is the sex shows area, was essentially deserted tonight, far less than the 10% for the neighborhood in general.

I'm surprised at my attitude towards the Reeperbahn and its associated activities. I'm virtually always a libertarian in my thought process, but I have to say that the debauchery was so severe last night that I can only defend it in principle, not in my heart. It's probably something like what an ACLU lawyer must feel when defending a person accused of a hate crime: You defend the principle, not the person per se.

It also seems that Europe has its own version of Sunday Night football, in this case what we as Americans call soccer. Munich is playing Erfurt, a town which appears to be more or less midway on a line between Munich and Hamburg. The men in town are definitely glued to the television sets. Unfortunately, soccer and basketball are very much alike to me, in that I can never really tell what the strategy is. With American football or even baseball, I see the thought process and strategy in each and every move, but with soccer, it seems the strategy is just "kick the ball through the goal," while with basketball the strategy is "throw the ball through the hoop." I prefer a game in which I can understand the subtleties and the strategy versus those which seem to focus on nothing more than serendipity.

On the food front, I tried a new dish tonight, something I still do not know if I enjoyed or not: The Döner, a type of shaved meat (I think lamb in this case) which is roasted all day long on a vertical spit then shaved off as ordered and served with a cole slaw-like sauce in a pita pocket bread. It wasn't bad, but the meat felt tough, almost leathery, so it's not high on the reorder list for me.

I also tried another raging item, the Curry-wurst sausage. Nothing truly exciting about it, other than that personally I prefer the more traditional wurst taste over the "throw some spice on top" taste of the curry-wurst.

I did find a very nice Italian restaurant, and I had a fantastic chat with the male proprietor (while his wife worked her butt off!). I wish I had remembered the name, I'm almost tempted to walk back down the street just to get it. Great food, incredibly cheap prices, nice owners. Even if I never remember the name, I will remember the ambience and the people. It's a bit odd and coincidental, but one of my favorite restaurants in London is also a "Little Italy" type of place. These places just know how to bring on the warmth and ambience, in addition to great food at great prices. It wasn't really terribly German, but heartwarming nonetheless.

I did do the Hamburg hop-on/hop-off bus today, and I am glad I did try it. Normally I feel things such as this are too touristy for me, but in this case, with only a day left in Hamburg, it was a great way to see the city quickly. Actually, Hamburg is far more beautiful and cosmopolitan than I thought or than I remembered from my trip here 15 years ago. I think that staying in a hotel in the Reeperbahn district jaded my perception a bit, as the bulk of the town is very beautiful, with a true class to it. Hindsight is always perfect, but I now wish I had cut my time in Munich by a day or so and instead spent more time in Hamburg. In any case, tomorrow morning it is on to Berlin, then who knows what until I need to be back in Munich for my return flight home on Saturday morning.

I might possibly be getting whiny here, but this ice thing is becoming annoying: It is virtually impossible to get more than a few cubes, certainly nowhere near the copious amounts of frozen comfort I can pull from my freezer's icemaker. I don't mind buying a bottle of vodka (or Wodka) from a local store and drinking it on the rocks, but without the rocks it is pretty nasty. I guess in this case I do, indeed, have to say the score is Europe---0, Motel 6---1.

Other tidbits: The song 99 Red Balloons ("99 Luftballons") by Nena back in the 1980's is still a pretty big hit over here. Interesting song, though since I am tyring to focus on my balance in US vs. European propreity, I should point out that we are in the 21st century. Move on folks.

Drinks in Europe, whether alcoholic or otherwise, are actually sold by indicated numerical volume, and glasses in bars have a mark on them indicating the minimum dispensable level. This is great, much more objective than the vague US strategy of selling drinks with arbitrary names, e.g., never a small, but only mediums, megas, and mammoths. Accuracy never hurts.

I knew there was something odd about the hotel I am staying in (Zleep or Zzzleep, depending on how they choose to market it): There are no phones in the rooms! I went to place a wakeup call, and much to my surprise, you can't do that! Actually, as odd as it may seem, this is probably a good omen, the wave of the future, as nobody in his right mind would really be using a hotel phone in this day, but nonetheless it is a bit disquieting, somewhat like buying that first PC without a floppy disk. It went just fine, even though you had your doubts.

Next Steps in Germany

It's Sunday evening, 10 August, and I am still in Hamburg having arrived just yesterday. I will be flying out of Munich on my way back home to Seattle on Saturday 16 August, and as such I have a few days to drift through Germany. Rather than tie myself to a rigid schedule, I've decided to float for the time, with a short three hour train ride to Berlin tomorrow mid-day. I don't have a hotel selected yet, and I am not sure how long I will remain there. I may stay a day or two, yet if I really don't like it I could (in theory) catch a sleeper train out of Berlin tomorrow for some as of yet undecided next stop. I'm excited at the prospect of just playing this by the ear, knowing that my only really firm requirement is to be somewhere in the vicinity of the Munich airport come Friday night.

Having been here exactly one week now, I have to say I am surprised at how my comprehension and speaking have improved. Part of it is mechanical, just remembering and/or learning more and more words, but the bigger part is more psychological, knowing how to carry on a conversation with another when you cannot converse fluently. It's fun and exciting! I believe in my heart a great deal of my love of Europe is simply that everything, even the simplest of daily routines, feels new and unpredictable. It's like being a grown-up child, needing to learn how to do and ask for the most basic needs of life.

Calibration Check and the Reeperbahn

I'm about halfway through the vacation, and in reading what I have posted thus far, I probably sound as if I am bashing anything US-based and praising anything Euro-related. I admit that is definitely the tone, and I am somewhat remiss for this. Europeans have many ideas and concepts which resonate with me, concepts which I feel we in the US could learn and adopt, yet at the same time they certainly have their own foibles as well, and I am seeing those here in Germany. I've spent a great deal of time lauding the European openness and freedom, but I need to hit on more of a balance.

Last night (a Saturday night nonetheless), I strolled around the Reeperbahn from early evening until about 2:00 AM, and what I saw was really shocking. For those of you who are unaware, the Reeperbahn is an infamous redlight district in Hamburg, with prostitutes seated in display windows as well as standing on the street over a multi-block area. In addition to the prevalence of prostitution, the clubs were packed, music was blaring all about, and even when I left at 2:00 AM it was almost impossible to move through all the people. It had a strong feeling of decadence, somewhere between a New Year's Eve party and outright debauchery. I had very mixed feelings about this, and I can easily view it from either perspective.

From the notion of freedom, I certainly support the idea that consenting adults should be allowed to do what they like as long as they do not inflict themselves on unwilling bystanders. To that end, the Reeperbahn is in a very discrete, well-defined part of town, so those who go there do so knowingly. Prostitution is not spread about the town, and the atmosphere is one of raucus behavior, partying, drinking, and promiscuity for those so inclined. If you don't like it, the area is very well-known and easy to avoid, so steer clear of it. Looking at it that way, I see it as a chosen way of life.

When I awoke this morning and walked back through the area at about 9:00 AM, cleaning crews were busy sweeping the litter and broken bottles. Many of the bars were still open, a couple of prostitutes were still in the windows, and a few stragglers were walking along with a bottle of beer in hand. This was the most depressing part of it, the image of lost souls who are unable to find any comfort or solace in the debauchery, still clinging into the early dawn hours to the pain-killing numbness of the night just ended.

My own bias and prejudice will show here, but the way the Reeperbahn is set up seems very depressing, especially for those trapped in it. Certainly, for the person who comes once in a blue moon to look, to gawk, it is not a trap, but for those who live this as a way of life, for those still wandering the street the next morning unsatisfied, it is a very tawdry event.

Comparing this to Therme Erding, I feel the Europeans have it right with the sauna oasis, but I have to admit a certain level of disgust with the Reeperbahn, in spite of my libertarian beliefs. Therme Erding was natural, comfortable, and I'd even go so far as to say respectful of the human body. The Reeperbahn is purely exploitation: Prostitutes exploiting men who have no sexual outlet, and men (essentially pimps) exploiting the prostitutes. It was kind of a dregs of the dregs of society.

I'll be consistent and continue to stress the idea that freedom of choice is paramount, so as such I would support the Reeperbahn in principle, though I have to say in my heart it feels like a soulless exploitation of one person against another. Prostitution, which I firmly feel should be legalized, can be handled with more dignity than what I saw last night in Hamburg.

So no, I don't think Europe always gets it right, though I will support their right to get it wrong.

Freedom of Thought

I was somewhat surprised recently when sitting in the Sammamish Library to see a young teacher, tutoring children in math, who pulled out a textbook entitled "Math Doesn't Suck." I guess if we can use that type of verbiage with our youngsters, then I'm not too out of line as a middle-aged man who claims, bluntly, that 2008 has sucked. I'll spare you the details (at least for now), other than to say that the positive outlook I felt on 31 December 2007 was trashed eleven days later, only to continue to be trashed on different occasions since then. I am hoping that in some small way this European trip may be an inflection point and alter that trajectory. If not, I'm in for the suck of my life.

As I've alluded to before, key to the "suckiness" of this year has been the violation of my trust and even my freedom of thought. These rights have always been fundamental axioms of my life, inalienable rights in practice not just in words. In the last few months, and on this trip in particular, I'm gaining an even deeper respect and understanding for them simply beyond the words and their common connotations.

Freedom of thought is a concept that we as Americans don't understand. We feel it is our right and our duty to "read into" what a person says and believes. We as Americans lack the ability to trust, to believe that other humans are innately benign if not beneficial. Our belief is that we must control others at all times lest we lose control. The ability to read another's mind and react to his unexpressd thoughts is a gift God gave to Americans. Apparently, Europeans lack this gift.

In Europe, freedom of thought is prime. Individuals are judged not by the implication that might, possibly, perhaps, maybe be behind a thought or an utterance, but rather people are judged---and held accountable---by their actions, by what they do, by how they impact others. Break a law and yes, you will be punished, with "spot fouls" on many infractions such as travelling on public transit without a ticket.

For freedom of thought to have meaning, it must be combined with trust and respect for others. Thoughts must be respected and afforded the highest level of trust possible. If actions go beyond what is socially acceptable, then punishment may be in order, but never, ever, should perceived thoughts be punished. Sorry folks, but even in the USA you just ain't mindreaders, and you don't have the right to judge what you perceive another to be thinking.

Germany Odds and ends

There's no unifying theme to this entry, but rather a few short, random thoughts I have had along the way and wanted to jot down before the braincells fall prey to another German beer (which, BTW, I'm still not incredibly fond of!).

First off, along the thoughts of drinking and the like, ice is incredibly hard to find. Ironically, as a child, even when my family stayed in the cheapest motels imaginable in the US, there was always at least one huge ice machine parked near the hotel lobby, an indisputable right of any American traveller. Larger or swankier hotels boasted multiple ice machines, and every room offered an ice bucket, if nothing more than a styrofoam bucket. In Europe, however, on this trip as well as others, I've noticed that ice machines are almost non-existent, and in the few places which actually _do_ have one, they are wimpy, underpowered, usually always broken or completely out of ice. At long last, there is one trump card for US culture. We may be monolingual, we may be embarrassed by nudity, we may not be able to handle things such as prostitution and public drinking, but we do have our ice machines.

I'm spending a small fortune on water on this trip. I don't yet seem to have figured out how to order tap water (maybe it is not offered?), so every time I need a drink it's three euros or nearly $5. I mean it quite literally when I say that I am spending more on water than I am on alcohol on this trip. No ice, no water....hmmm, something is odd here.

Be aware that many places do not take any credit cards, so check ahead of time, especially in restaurants. This is especially important since most US banks have relatively safe (i.e., low) daily withdrawal limits. Combine that with the weak dollar exchange rate, plus the fact that many banks cutoff card access as soon as they see anything out of the ordinary (such as overseas charges!) and you could quickly find yourself in a cash crisis, unable to get cash out of an ATM and unable to use credit cards to cover your daily expenses.

One personal disappointment for me is that in this land of incredible baked goods, I am definitely _not_ a dough-head. Even before the carb-bashing days, I never really cared for breads, pastries, or anything of that nature. Give me meat and I'm happy, donuts on occasion are a rare treat, but that carbohydrate, fruit, and vegetable stuff---no thanks. That really is a bummer, because I freely admit the food in the bakeries looks so appealing.

As much as I malign McDonalds, there are times on trips such as this that a familiar (and cheap) face is welcome, so I have snagged a breakfast and a dinner in Ronald's foreign palace. Granted, I detest the idea of travelling 6000 miles only to eat from an American franchise in a foreign land, but there is something to be said for trying the quintessential standard of fast food in order to compare it to back home. As I mentioned earlier, the MacRoyal (which bombed in the US) is very prevalent here in Germany, just as it was in France when I was last there several years ago. What a novel idea: Sell a hamburger with cheese, lettuce and tomato on it!!! I still don't understand why this product failed in America, since of all the Mac food options, this is one of my favorites. I guess that even here, I truly am more of a European than an American.

I'm amazed at how few FM radio stations there seem to be, and how short their range is. (When I do find one which comes in strongly, it fades in just a few miles.) In listening to German FM radio, 70's rock music still appears to be very big over here, with many memories from my childhood flashing back as I listen to songs which haven't been played in the US for 30 years. It's not that Germans are obsessed with it, but rather these "golden oldies" seem to fit regularly in the radio station playlists. I wonder if perhaps this is not one more reason that Germans (and other Europeans) continually seem to be able to hold their own when conversing in English: Perhaps something as subtle as regularly hearing American words in American music adds to the learning and the retention. BTW, FM 101.3 of Munich is excellent, I'm hoping to find it streaming so that I can listen to it back home.

I've said a few times that the Germans seem a bit abrupt, and I am beginning to understand it. First of all, it truly is not with me as an American; quite the contrary, they seem to treat me no different than they treat each other. Not rude, not abrasive, but they are efficient which often does indeed come across as abrupt. Yesterday morning, I saw a young man scramble down the subway stairs in an effort to catch a train; he arrived at the lead car just as the doors were closing. Although the train operator was looking out the window, directly into the would-be passenger's eyes only ten feet away, he would not override the doors and allow him to embark. It just seems to be a way of life, an expectation, in this country: People are proud, restrained, disciplined. Along with that comes self-determination. Yes, you want to drink a beer in public, you may do so and as long as you do not harm others, so be it. If you screw it up, you pay the consequences. Similarly, you know (or should know) when the subway will leave the station; if you choose to be late, don't expect sympathy. Certainly there are exceptions to this, and more than one Municher has gone out of his or her way to assist me, when I appeared to be a confused traveller, but in general this place is very Darwinian: We'll do you no harm and wish you no ill will, but survival is up to you.

Hamburg Initial Impressions

These blogs may be a bit out of order since I don't have continuous net access and as such am doing them offline, so bear with me if things are a bit disjointed.

I've just arrived in Hamburg, and this is the night and day, yin and yang, diametric of Munich. Munich was clean, orderly, regulated, with more or less of a bedroom community feel to it. Even the most crowded places, such as the Munich Hbf (the downtown train station) was well-mannered.

Hamburg, on the other extreme, is noisier, dirtier, and in the area near the Reeperbahn definitely sleazy. I've already seen three panhandlers, more than I saw in nearly the entire week I was in Munich. Sex shops abound, and the "roped off" area is still there, although pretty quiet at the moment given that it is 2:30 in the afternoon. I'll wait a few hours for things to liven up and take a look after dark.

Case in point: I just sat down in the hotel lobby to write down a few notes, and within five minutes three police officers arrive and start questioning some woman who is in the lobby. They're too far away, and my German is still too rusty to understand exactly what is going on, though I think the cop told the woman something to the effect of "You know you don't have to say anything..." BTW, the lady cop is definitely hot, brown and blond two-tone ponytail. Somehow, that just seems to fit this town: Woman in uniform, with a gun and handcuffs and a very sexy hairstyle. Yep, this definitely is not Munich.

The sex shops are open at this hour, as are the live shows, and I guess part of getting older is feeling more perturbed when the doormen try to hustle you in. If you've read more than a few of these blogs, you know by now that I am not offended by this sort of thing, but rather I'm just annoyed at getting hassled when I walk down a street since I'm not terribly inclined at this point in my life to pay money to go in and watch young women prance around naked on a stage.

In case I forget to mention it later, I'm staying in a place called the "Zleep Hotel," and it definitely is not as nice as the KK Munich Hotel. It's not bad, just spartan, albeit relatively cheap and right by the Grosse Freiheit, which is the party part of town. There's some sort of a weird speaker gizmo underneath the "bench" in my room, and I have absolutely no idea what it is for. Somehow, though, that sort of bizarre thing just fits in here perfectly; this should be an interesting area to stay in for the next couple of days.

Munich to Hamburg

I just realized that I haven't updated the blog with my plans for the extra week in Germany, so I'll give it a shot here and now. It's currently 6:30 AM on Saturday, and I am travelling by ICE (high speed) train from Munich to Hamburg. Munich, the Bavarian capital, is in the southernmost portion of the country, near switzerland and Austria. Hamburg, on the other hand, is a port city in the far northern extreme of Germany. It's slightly less than a six hour trip, and for some quirk that I still don't understand, a first class ticket cost less than second class, so I'm riding in the front for a change. These trains are sleek, modern, quiet, and compared to the airlines the space is incredible! The ticket cost 120 euros or somewhere in the $190 range.

I have a hotel reserved for Saturday and Sunday night in Hamburg, and after that I am not sure what I will do as of yet. I do need to be back in Munich on Saturday morning (16 August) for the flight back to Seattle, but what I choose to do with the days between Monday morning and late Friday evening remains to be seen. Normally I have reasonably solid, well-defined plans, but this time I am going to play it as it comes along.

I had considered spending a few days in London (my favorite city in the world) or possibly even flying to a different country such as Spain or France, but I actually do want to immerse myself in Germany during this trip. I am, as I mentioned earlier, feeling much more confident with the language, the people, and the country in general, so rather than dilute that experience with some other distraction, I'll focus on Deutschland alone this time.

I could stay in Hamburg for a few days, if I feel like doing so after spending the weekend there. I am concerned, though, about the few things I remember from last seeing the town 15 years ago...it felt very much like a port city anyplace else in the world: Dirty, somewhat rough, not exactly a vacation paradise. In any case, I'll give the Reeperbahn a quick look....

I might take trains back from Hamburg to Munich, assuming I can find slower ones, and stop at a few places along the way. A route which traverses along the eastern side of the country, such as from Berlin to Dresden to Nurnberg to Munich, would be slow and leisurely while also giving me the best feel for the culture.

Therme Erding Part 2

I went back to Therme Erding in order to see the parts I had not seen in my previous trip, and I understand the layout of the facility a bit better now.

It turns out there really are three different areas:

• Child-focused Waterworld
• All ages clothed pools, spas, saunas
• Adults only unclothed pools, spas, saunas

I did not spend any time in the Waterworld area, as it really was more of a children's and family play area. It did have the typical huge slides, etc., and was an impressive enough facility in and of itself

The clothed spa area is also a family area, with everything from toddlers up through retirees. It houses multiple bars, restaurants, pools, soaking tubs, mineral springs, and the like. The entire area is covered with a roof, so even in inclement weather it would be a very pleasant visit. This area was very crowded and had a family feel to it: Children running about, noisy, cramped, more on the hectic side of the continuum rather than peaceful.

The unclothed sauna area I mentioned a few entries ago is the largest of the three, and it includes an area with a retractable roof as well as a fixed roof and outdoor areas. Of the three sections, this is by far the most luxurious, with a very classy, regal, peaceful feel to it. Though there were a number of people there, it was not nearly as crowded as last Monday, nor was it as crowded as the clothed area with children running about. (BTW, I did finally see the sign detailing the admission policy for the unclothed areas: 16 years and up.)

A unique point for the entire facility is that upon checkin each guest is issued a wristband with an embedded RFID chip. This is used to charge food and beverage purchases while in the park, as well as to control passage between the clothed and unclothed areass.

My belief from the other day remains unchanged: The unclothed area really had a casual, comfortable feel to it, not at all anything sexual or seedy. Ironically, from a sexual titallation angle, the clothed family area actually felt more "erotic" as there was some mystery, some mystique, to "what's underneath." In many cases, as I alternated between the two sections, I would see a woman in both the clothed and unclothed state, and the bikini-clad case was inevitably the more erotic of the two; simply put, once you take the swimsuit off and the mystery is gone, so is the titallation. Let's face it, we all tend to want what is just out of reach, so if a man sees a woman in a short skirt or a low-cut blouse, he's instinctively going to try to sneak a peek, hoping to see a bit more than he thinks he is supposed to see. Take her completely out of that skirt or blouse, however, and all the mystery is gone. The man quickly realizes there's nothing really new to be seen.

I seldom am at a total loss for words, but there really is no way to adequately explain Therme Erding. The waterworld area, yes, it can be likened to many of the summer water parks we have in the US. The clothed area is a bit more difficult to equate to anything in the US: Yes, we do have facilities with all of the same basic amenities, but the size, the scope and design of the facility cannot be expressed in words. Finally, the sheer size, comfort and understated elegance of the adults-only section is literaly unlike anything I have ever seen or felt in the US.