The Trail of Beers

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Ich Bin Ein Berliner

Much of our time in Berlin was spent checking out the various WWII and holocaust memorials. They are abundant in Berlin to be sure: The Holocaust Memorial, Berlin Wall Memorial and countless others. We learned a lot about the rise of the Nazis, WWII and the division of Berlin after the war. While fascinating, I was honestly very depressed after seeing so much carnage and despair. Although I began to understand from a factual perspective how all this happened, I was unable to grasp why it happened. I was sickened by those who took joy in the genocide, but almost more disturbed by those that knew and did nothing. Unfortunately, pretty much everyone falls into that second category. I was also left wondering, what happened after the war? Did the Goldstein family just move back to their old house while the neighbors exclaimed, "Oh hey, you’re back! Were you on vacation? And goodness you’ve lost weight – what’s your secret?" I was left feeling very disturbed and saddened by what I saw.

Coffee Talk

So you all knew we were going to do it. Every time we called home, it was the first question out of everyone’s mouth. I’m not big on it, but AC is somewhat of an enthusiast. But we felt we would be amiss if we spent this much time in The Netherlands without going native at least once. Just to be safe, I won’t use it by name but I think you all know what I’m talking about.

We both nervously shuffled into a coffee shop – such an innocuous name, huh? We are so trained to keep this type of stuff on the d/l that we didn’t want to say the words out loud. Luckily the bartender recognized our panicked faces and showed us the ropes. We were first presented with a menu with all kinds of magical sounding names – Buddha’s Bubble Gum and Purple Haze were the most memorable. It was so weird to actually have choices! He then brought out a few samples so we could see the quality for ourselves. I kept checking over my shoulder, because I just knew the cops were going to burst through the doors at any moment. Our final selection was something very clinical sounding – G13. "The name sounds like a science experiment," I told the green barista. He went on to explain something about breeding and genes and DNA strains, but I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

That evening was a bit hazy for me. I remember uttering the words, "I feel like a spaceship just landed on my chest" and getting a clear reminder of why I don’t like the stuff. That pretty much cured that curiosity for me, but I suspect AC had a more pleasant experience.

Anne Frank House

One of the places I really wanted to see was the Anne Frank House. Again, my public school education somewhat failed me, because I thought her home was in Germany. Turns out I was half right -- she and her family were Germans, but fled to The Netherlands to escape when the Nazis came to power and began to institute anti-Jewish legislation.

The home itself was a mixed-use building. The first floor served as a warehouse for a jam/jelly business and the second floor was used as offices. You are actually able to step through the secret door hidden by the infamous bookcase and see the area in which they hid. It was actually much bigger than I expected – they had two entire floors of the building. Black-out curtains kept the area very dimly lit and each person was required to hold still all day long so they wouldn’t make any noise. Anne’s room was narrow and had black and white magazine cutouts of various celebrities donning her walls.

They will never know who betrayed in Frank family, but as we all know they were discovered and taken to concentration camps. Friends of the family told stories of sneaking them food and supplies into the concentration camp by making packages and throwing them over the fences when the guards weren’t looking. Anne watched all the women in her family die before her and eventually gave up herself. Little did she know that her father was still alive and survived the whole ordeal. In fact, Anne died only a few weeks before the Allied forces came and liberated the camp. Who knows what type of person she would have become, especially considering what an amazing young woman she was?

This experience was made even more interesting because I had just finished reading Suite Franciase by Irene Nemrovisky who was a Jewish writer who lived in France. Similarly, she was killed during the Nazi occupation of France while her two daughters were chased all over Europe yet managed to stay in hiding until the end of the war. They lovingly carried the manuscript for Suite Francise with them the entire time, and it was later published as an unfinished novella -- a fictional account of the German occupation of France. It was so amazingly written, and under circumstances hauntingly similar to Anne Frank’s demise.

You can’t help but walk away from an experience like this with some serious questions about humankind. AC and I slowly strolled by the nearby "homomonument," which is a memorial to the gays and lesbians that lost their lives as well. Needing an emotional change of pace, we helped ourselves to a few glasses of red wine and talked about any positive subject we could think of.

Hallo Holland!

I must admit I knew very little about Amsterdam before arriving there. From what I had gathered via some of my more colorful friends and relatives was it is the sex, drugs, and rock & roll capital of Europe. To my surprise, the first thing I noticed were all the bicycles. Directly across from the train station was the bike parking lot. It was teeming with several thousand bikes and people were pedal-pushing all around us. You also learn very quickly that they have their own lanes between the sidewalks and the streets. We Americans are only taught to look both ways before we cross the street, but in Amsterdam you must do so on the sidewalk as well. We managed to steer clear of cars, but were almost killed on several occasions by bikers.

The second thing I noticed was that nearly all the buildings are very narrow and are built at a slant. If you look upward at the building, it seems as though it’s teetering forward and will crush you at any moment. We later learned this type of architecture was influenced by property taxes. Homes are taxed by their width, so nearly all the houses are as narrow and tall as possible. They are so narrow in fact that you wouldn’t be able to get a piece of furniture up the spiral staircase if your life depended on it – never mind fitting your body up them. They are tilted forward because all the furniture needs to be taken up using a pulley and brought through a window. They lean so the furniture doesn’t bump the building and damage it. I can’t vouch for how safe this type of structure is, but rest assured you’d never see anything like it in the US.

Our walk to our hotel took us past many sidewalk cafes, flower gardens (no tulips, but I guess it was the wrong time for that) and bridges over countless canals. It was hardly the sleaze-fest I was expecting. As you can imagine, we did manage to get into a little trouble, but more on that later.

Why The French Live Longer

When AC and I traveled to Paris last year, we were amazed at how the Parisians lived their lives. They seemingly broke every rule we were trying to live our own lives by, including:

Diet - Breakfast usually consists of a carb and fat bombshell including a croissant, buttered french bread and OJ finished by some strong coffee with sugar. Lunch varied, but dinner could have fatted goose liver (mmm ...) with a bottle or two of wine.

Exercise - I will concede that they walk a lot more than Americans do (as evidenced by the fact that we've seen exactly three gas stations, consisting of two pumps each in the miles and miles of ground we covered). Who doesn't walk more than Americans for that matter? However, every jogger or muscle-head I came across was either American or some other non-French person. They are generally skinny, but not terribly fit.

Vices - In addition to the copious wine consumption, they almost all smoke. And if you don't smoke you spend much of your time involuntarily inhaling other people's smoke. Parents practically blow it lovingly in their childrens' faces.

So why aren't these people simultaneously clutching their hearts and livers and falling over dead in the street? I'll tell you my theory -- they know how to freaking relax!

The French kick back like nobody's business. On the occasional day we got a late start, we'd see the city generally waking up around 11:00. Stores were still opening, people in fine suits enjoying their breakfast or walking their dog. When I was working, by 11:00 I had been up for at least six hours and at work for at least three of them. No one is in a particular rush. I swear you could order a glass of water at a cafe and remain there for three hours and no one would look at you cross-eyed.

No matter the time of day, the parks were filled with people enjoying they weather. Maybe they finished their 35 hour work week early or were enjoying one of their 40 days of annual vacation.

At least for me, spending time in France makes me think America, well, sucks. I keep reflecting on how much of my life has been spent slaving away for managers or faceless shareholders -- time I can't ever get back. While I try to think about their sky-high taxes and their supposedly sub-standard socialized medicine, it still seems like they're seriously coming out ahead.

If I'd like to learn one thing from my French friends, it's how to relax. Something tells me that the people in our next destination of Amsterdam may have a thing or two to share on that topic as well. :)

Rattatoo-me!

One of the downsides of this whole 'plan as you go' type of trip is that you spend a lot of your time in one place figuring out how you're getting (and where you're staying) in the next place. You also make mistakes that cost both time and money because you don't understand the way things work.

We felt like we had some breathing room in Paris because we'd been there already and had hit most of the major sites. One of our first tasks was to secure our visa for our time in India in September. Similarly, we had to get our Egyptian visa in London which was a total breeze. So of course, I got cocky. After doing some very basic research on the web, I got the office's street address and we headed over to that part of town. Upon our arrival, we were denied entry into the office and the guard simply grunted and repeatedly pointed to their website address on the front door. After doing some follow-up research we found out they only accept applications on line and we didn't have enough time in Paris for them to get processed. On well, at least we got to see London's Little India.

Overall, our time in Paris was spent leisurely. We ate each meal at an outdoor cafe (which in the morning was pleasant, but evenings sometimes you spent the night inhaling your neighbor's second hand smoke). We languished in Luxembourg Park watching the small children push sailboats across the pond to one another. We toured the Picasso Museum, which contains some good stuff but mostly art only a real enthusiast would love. And his mother.

We also went to Euro Disney. It was pretty fun, but I'll let AC decide if he wants to write about it in any detail.

Dublin -- Dud?

Looking back at the blog, we haven't written much about Dublin. Oddly enough, there wasn't much to write about. Our first impressions were that Dublin is like London's working-class brother. Doesn't have the polish or class, but is easy to talk to over a beer or twelve. We began our trip by making a stop in the Temple Bar district (which was reminiscent of our old stomping grounds of Lan Kwai Fong in Hong Kong). What goes on in this district you ask? Well, drink. Much of the nightlife, or just life in general revolves around beer. Many of the bars are quite friendly and are a interesting mix of locals and tourists. Many also have live music that ranges from traditional Irish to pop cover acts. I dared not speak of my hatred for U2, but I found a few locals who shared in my sentiment.

Speaking of beer, this is the home of Guinness (one of my favorites as is evidenced by my mid-section). The tour of the factory was less than interesting, but at the end you can relax in the Gravity Bar and with free pint. The 360 degree view of Dublin was neat, but getting a seat was next to impossible. We also spent some time at Trinity College, of which we're not sure its claim-to-fame but was a neat old campus to explore all the same.

AC also obliged my mandatory zoo stop, which actually turned out to be one of the best I'd seen. You could often get scarily close to the animals and I nearly pet a red panda while AC pranced around the farm animal exhibit and excitedly pet the smelly cow. What a city boy ...

The rest of our time was spent enjoying the unhealthy food washed down with an unhealthy amount of Guinness and meeting a variety of locals (the leprechaun being one of them). If you come here, don't plan but to spend more than a day or two in Dublin. Cork (pronounced something like 'cwaaarrk') is supposed to be really nice and is just a short train ride away.

Didn't Get His Lucky Charms

One of the most interesting things that happened to us in Dublin was that we think we met a real-life Leprechaun!

Let me explain: One evening, AC and I drug our tired little souls into one of the few gay bars in Dublin. It was pretty much the same as any gay bar we'd been in, so we grabbed a beer and watched the obligatory drag-queen fundraiser they were holding.

Suddenly, a little man sitting at the table next to us motioned us over. He was maybe just under five feet tall, and spoke in the strongest Irish accent we'd ever heard.

Leprechaun: Durm slap trum, eek up furvish sleep slag ... DRINK."

Let's just say the only word we understood was 'drink' (a word that AC and I can apparently understand in any language).

We looked at each other across the table, seeing if perhaps the other person caught what he was trying to say. We thought about trying to make a break for the door, but wondered if we kept talking to this guy, there might be a pot-o gold in it for us. As we listened further (I shoved a bunch of shamrocks in my ear, which helped), he said to us:

Leprechaun: Thay wun't gimme uh point uh beer ut thee bargh, 'cause thay thinks me straight!

Just our luck, a gay leprechaun! Actually, we'd seen the little altercation with the bartenders earlier. Some lesbians ditched their vodka red bull at his table, so he promptly took it to the bar and tried to turn it in for a beer. He then asked us if we'd try and exchange it, because they would no doubt know that we were gay.

I tried to explain to our little friend that this isn't Wal-Mart, and they probably don't have an exchange program for drinks you didn't even buy in the first place. Then he asks:

Leprechaun: Does yah thinks me gaay? 'Cause ooy've been wit loads o' women, ooy 'ave!

I tried to explain that we had just met him, and couldn't possibly tell if he was gay -- or even understand him for that matter. Sadly, he continued to barrage us with questions about how he could tell if he were gay, and he could tell that AC and I are clearly very gay. We hung around for a while hoping a rainbow would magically form around this guy and we'd be right there to nab the treasure, but it was dark in there and I'm not sure if I would have seen it anyway. We offered to buy him a beer, and when we got back he was gone. Either stumbled home, or went along on his magical way to tell his riddles to another poor soul. We'll never know ...

Stonehenge, etc

AC and I got a chance to sneak out of the city and spend a little time in the English country side. Salisbury was a natural choice because we really wanted to see Stonehenge! We did have several arguments over the proper pronunciation of the city (AC kept saying 'salisbeery' like a nasally American while I opted for the more local-sounding 'salisboory').

The site of Stonehenge was ... interesting. We were hoping for a somewhat-creepy, secluded area, but unfortunately there is a road right next to the site and an ugly chain-link fence around it (which I guess is necessary because assholes still try and vandalize this 4000+ year old treasure). There's a constant stream of cheapskates who also run around the perimeter fence and take their picture in front of the monument ... through the fence. That's the stuff memories are made of.

For what it lacked in ambiance, it made up for in its amazing construction. Like the pyramids, they are unsure how they were able to elevate the heavy stones to such huge heights (some weight as much as 25 tons and are nearly 40 feet in the air). They also demonstrated early carpentry techniques like mortise and tenon joints to keep the structure strong. They also aren't quite sure what it was used for, but it's likely some type of celestial calendar. Depending on the month, the sun shines through a different section of the columns. Pretty genius!

We also made our way over to Salisbury Cathedral which houses one of the four remaining copies of the Magna Carta. It was in shockingly good condition, and would be totally readable if not for the surprising fact that is isn't written in English. I think I should have studied history more closely apparently. And geography as well since I thought Stonehenge was in Ireland.

Speaking of Ireland, we arrived in Dublin today. We are currently watching the evening news in Gaelic (AC says, "it sounds like he's talking backwards!). The agenda is open, with the exception of kissing the Blarney Stone. We're told that the locals pee on it and then laugh at all the dumb tourists as they pucker up ...

A sample of our photos can be found using the "Photos" link above.

London Bridge Isn't Falling Down, FYI

AC and I have been running around like madmen trying to take in all the London sites during our short week here. I haven't been here in almost 15 years, so all the sites are essentially new for me too!

The first thing we couldn't help but notice is that it's so freaking expensive!! Not only is the exchange rate just short of $2 US Dollars to 1 British Pound, but the prices are unbelievable. My first official meal was a very lackluster fish-and-chip basket that was over 20 bucks! A short subway ride when we're just too tired to walk -- 8 bucks a piece. The smallest size cup of coffee at Starbucks is 5. As much as we like to eat at nice restaurants, we have been going ghetto this week. While I used to turn my nose up at the free breakfast buffet at the hotel, I have been gorging myself on heat-lamp bathed food every morning praying I don't get hungry again until dinner.

On better news, we've done a good job of hitting all the major sites. In addition to quick tours of Kensington Palace (the final home of Princess Diana), and seeing the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace (highly overrated if you ask me), we've also had our RDA of religion spending time at Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's Cathedral. On a kinkier side, we "served some time" at the Prison Museum where we did our penance for skipping confession earlier in the week. We also spent a day at the National History Museum, which had more dinosaur skeletons than we'd ever seen in my life! The building itself was nothing short of amazing, and we felt like we were attending a lecture at Hogwarts. Best part -- it was free!

On a fun note, we also witnessed the final night of legal drinking on the London subway. The locals celebrated the end of this era by, well, drinking! It was totally out of control, and I for one was glad we were on foot.

For the rest of the trip, we're going to try and check out Stonehenge and maybe a showing of the musical Wicked. At the last minute, we also changed our plans and are heading for Dublin Ireland on Tuesday rather than Paris.