Wandering and being lost

It has been raining off and on all day, one time it rained hard just as I was no where close to shelter.  I have a rain coat, which I was wearing  but I had my camera in my bag and other things I didn't want to get wet.  I had just bought something at an amazing church and monastery, and so I dumped the contents of that bag into my bag, and tied the plastic bag around my actual bag.  Between that and my rolled up jeans, I was quite a sight.  Fortunately I don't think anyone was looking, they were all trying to stay dry too.

I mentioned before that I have some language challenges.  I have an index card with some words, and the Russian alphabet, and I use it to 'read' the words on the street sign so that I can find where I am on my map, which is not in Russian, but in English.

So I know that this sign says:  Malee(or ih)oy Keesehlnihee, except it doesn't. 

And this sign says Rozhlestvehnskaya. Again, not right, but then I look at my map in the area where I think I am, and try to find a name that looks a lot like what I have just spelled out.  

Sometimes I get it right away, but most of the time I have to walk around an intersection, or down to the next street to figure out where I am-so I know how to get where it is I want to go.  

Today I had fair success, except for one spectacular failure after getting off the Metro.  That is always the hardest, because there are usually multiple exits/entrances to different corners or streets, so I am not sure where I am coming up.  The lack of sunny days doesn't help, I don't usually know which way is north until I find myself on the map.  It sounds tiring, and it is, but it is also fun.  Sometimes I just wander, if the neighborhood is interesting.

I had to go pick up my onward train tickets today at an office that involved a Metro ride, which was intimidating me after my first attempt.  Eventually I bit the bullet, even got a multiple ride ticket from a machine, and got on and off at the right places.  Tomorrow I will do some more Metro riding because I am going in search of a couple of English language bookstores.

Even with the Metro, I walk pretty much all day.  I would like to find a place with pierogis, and probably have walked right by some without knowing it.  

To cross major intersections, you have to go underground, as in Warsaw.  Many of the pedestrian tunnels are basic walkways, but some have shops, musicians playing with their hats out, and access to the Metro.  All of them are a warm place to get out of the rain.  I have noticed a few beggars there, and in front of churches, and almost all of them are old women.  I saw one old woman breaking down a cardboard box this evening, presumably to sleep on?  I find this heartbreaking for some reason, and so now I have found a use for all the change that I have been collecting from every transaction.  I don't usually give money to beggars but I cannot pass these by.

My room in Moscow

My room has two single beds, a divan, a single chair and a coat tree in the corner.  The light is a single bare bulb in the high ceiling.  Pipes run across and up the wall, and the window leaks cold air.  There is ornate crown molding along the ceiling that was painted over at some time in the past and a large lavender and gold tapestry on one wall

The bathroom is shared, and the toilet is in a closet.  This all sounds kind of awful, but it is surprisingly comfortable, and the heater seems to keep up with the cold air from the window.  I slept well last night, and when I woke to rain on the window, I decided to stay in bed a while longer.  This place has the fastest internet I have had so far, and it is secure.

The apparent owner of the flat is a tall, slender woman who speaks English, fortunately for me.  When she discovered my name, she asked if I have family here, because Irene is a common Russian name.  It was odd to pay for my four nights in thousands of rubles, but the exchange rate is about 39 Rubles to one dollar.

To get in to this flat, I first have to use my magnetic fob to open a large metal gate, then walk around back of the building, in a small courtyard shared with neighboring buildings.  I enter a code in the panel by the door, which lets me in the building.  Up the elevator to the 5th floor, then walk down a half flight (the elevator is on the landings, not on the actual floor levels-perhaps a more recent addition), and unlock the flat door.  Then I have a separate key to my room-no idea if it is actually keyed differently from the other three rooms here, but I operate on that assumption.  The only other people here are the young man who let me in the first day and his girlfriend.

It's home, sweet home for a couple more nights.

Hopefully this link will work to see photos:  https://picasaweb.google.com/117262794551578669230/TheGrandAdventure?authuser=0&feat=directlink

St Basil

There's nothing like some food, a bathroom and a little exploration to lighten the load.  I went wandering this afternoon, and got lost, of course.  Getting lost is just fine, unless there is a train to catch.  After a while I found a landmark I could identify, and discovered I had gone in a fairly large circle.
Red Square and St. Basil's Cathedral were beautiful in the late day light, so I hung around to see it after the lights came on.

Crazy how beautiful it was.  I plan to go back during the day to see the insides and the Kremlin.

I also get to try my luck with the Metro again, so that I can pick up train tickets.  I have my Russian alphabet cheat sheet, and will figure it out. Or walk a long way.

Awkward but done

I have landed on my feet in Moscow, but it was not the smoothest of landings.

I felt a bit like a kid on Christmas when I got on the train in Warsaw.  I had a sleeper compartment all to myself, so lots of room.  I met several fellow passengers because everyone was standing in the passageway and at their doors.  Alexandra and a professor, both teachers at the University in Warsaw, were traveling only as far as Brest, which is in Belarus.  They are there for a week doing some research in their field of geology, although I never understood what exactly.  Philip, who is from Switzerland, was traveling to Moscow for an internship here.  He graduated recently with his bachelor's degree in Eastern European history. I've been reading Fermor's book about his travels in that part of the world, and he throws a lot of historical context into his writing.  Unfortunately I know so very little about it that I cannot discuss it intelligently.  We also talked about the European response to African immigrants, and the political situation in his country. As he expected, I had to admit I knew nothing about Swiss politics.  For my banking friends, he lives in Basel, which is of course where the Basel international banking agreements have been hammered out.

There was no food on the train, but you could get hot water for tea from the car attendant, and when we got to the Belarus/Polish border, some women came on board with large plastic shopping bags to sell bliny and beer. The undercarriage has to be changed there because the rail gauge is different from there east.  We didn't get out, they just raised the car and exchanged the wheels under us.

Border controls were all handled at the Poland/Belarus border and were a bit more involved, as anticipated.  Several people came along and asked questions, and luckily for me, I had a visitor sitting in my compartment at the time who spoke Russian. I had to remove my glasses so that the officer could compare the passport photo, and he asked me about my bags but did not search them.  He found it odd that I was going to Uzbekistan by such a circuitous route but in the end he let it go.

I burrowed in bed later listening to the sound of the train and watching the stars.  The bed was comfortable, and warm, and I half wanted to lie there and just soak it in rather than sleep.

The toilets are somewhere between clean and permanently stinking of urine, but it would be hard to have it otherwise, I think. Oddly enough, it had the first seat covers I have encountered so far on this trip.

Not long after boarding the train, I remembered that Russian that I was going to learn-yikes!  So I spent some time on it, and made myself some cards with common words.  The real difficulty is that the alphabet is different. There are some that are the same or similar enough to work with, such as M, A (ah sound) or O.  Others look the same but have different sounds: r is either a g or v sound, a backwards N is ee, p is r, and so on.  And there are about 15 characters that don't exist on our English keyboard.  Because the metro and most street signs, and directional signs are in the Russian lettering, I have to be able to parse them out.

This led to my first difficulty after leaving the train.  I found the metro station after crossing the street to the wrong side, so I crossed back, then went to get a ticket.  The woman at the counter and I communicated by using our fingers to show I wanted a one ride ticket-there were no signs in English, and there was a crowd, people coming and going.  I was a little overwhelmed, but got the ticket and headed down into the bowels of the earth.  I tried hard to figure out which train to take, but of course took the wrong one.  I knew I was to get off at the second stop, so I did that on the theory that if I had gone astray, I would not have gone too far. I saw an official looking person with a metro map in her hand, so I went to her and pointed to the station I wanted and she indicated I was to get back on the train and retrace my steps, then using her fingers to indicate walking up steps.  She said a lot of other things but I understood nothing except the name of the stop I was to get off at-Belarusky.  I decided to try.  Worst case, I would come out of the Metro and get a taxi, or so I figured.  I went back to Belarusky, got off and went up some steps, just dumbly following the people in front of me.  Turns out it led to another line, which also turned out to be the one I needed.

I found my street but then could not find the hotel. I circled and went back and forth, finally saw a tour business, and figured they would have someone who spoke English, and went in.  There was one woman who did speak a little, and she was very helpful.  She ended up calling the place, and then walked me around the corner, and told me to wait there, and someone would come in  minutes.  Hmmm. And so they did.

This 'hotel' is a converted flat, with several bedrooms and a shared bath. The proprietor was not here (hence the wait) and did not appear to be expecting me.  She made up a bed quickly while I waited.  Moscow's hotel prices average at some of the highest in the world, so I went pretty low budget.  I will try to suspend judgment for now.

So, here I am.  It is overcast and chilly (probably not to Moscovites), and I am off to explore and find some lunch.

another leg

Today/tonight feels like I am entering a new stage on the journey. I have an overnight train to Moscow, the first of a few overnight train rides. I'll be moving two time zones as I go.  Transiting through Belarus, mostly in the dark, I'm afraid. I think this time I'll notice the border crossings, as there will be immigration controls.

Moscow is expected to have a high of 60 (Fahrenheit) today, dropping to around 45 the next few days.

I keep promising photos, hopefully soon!

the indescribable and the everyday

I woke up to rain this morning, and empty early morning streets.  It is Saturday, which I just discovered yesterday.  I had lost track again.  I went for coffee in the Old Town and after a while the sun came out but windy and colder too.

I stood in line for tickets to see the Castle, and felt a little sorry for the people just in front of me.  Having been out in the wind, and with my cold still in full bloom, I was glad that I wouldn't see them again.

I sat in St. Anne's church waiting for an organ concert, writing these notes.  Koncert na Barokowych Organach-which I take to mean a baroque organ concert.  Church is Kosciola (the l has a slash across it, and the s an accent above it).

Yesterday I went to a museum and it was full of paintings, mostly 17th and 18th century creations.  Not being any kind of art history student, I just looked and admired the ones I liked. I felt rather like a philistine, but since my host spoke no English and I no Polish, my lack went undetected, I think.  He left me alone, after having unlocked doors and turned on lights.  I was the only person there.  I often could not see the paintings due to the glare from the lights.  Even more surprising was that I could walk right up and touch centuries old paintings (I only did this once, to see if it would set off an alarm or bring the doorkeeper running).

There was a hard to find remnant of the wall that formed the Jewish ghetto during WW II.  It is tucked away in the back of a parking lot and bookended by two apartment buildings.  I placed my hand on the wall and imagined life inside it.  I cannot, really, but neither can I ignore it.

There are so few Jews remaining in Warsaw, thanks to both Hitler and the Russians (many who survived the war were made to move by the Russians afterward).  There seems to be no one left to remember their history here.

Warsaw's story as a whole is powerful and impressive.  Hitler was determined to annihilate this city and its inhabitants so that nothing would be left for them to rebuild on, or for the enemy to use in the event of a need to retreat.  I had read of, but forgotten the Warsaw Rising, or rebellion, fought by under supplied and poorly armed members of the resistance, holding out for months against everything Hitler's army could throw against them.  They were undercut by Russian refusal to support or supply them, and eventually Russia imprisoned and even executed many of the survivors.  I am assuming that they knew they were dangerous to them as they had  been to Hitler.  There was an underground Polish government all through the war, including the army, and even courts.

The losses sustained here are astounding.  I have seen photos of the city reduced to rubble, and I do not know how they began to rebuild.

I stumbled on a market, situated inside and around what looks like an old hall.  I found a man selling honey but we could not communicate so that I could find out where it was from.  It was being sold in glass jars, with the price stuck on a hand-written label and re-used lids.

At another stall, a young woman was ladling something into bowls in small portions and I asked her what it was.  She called her neighbor over to talk to me.  She explained that it was a meat mixture wrapped in cooked cabbage-well actually she said it was meat, and salad, the closest she could come to cabbage in English.  But I got the idea, and asked for a sample. It had some sort of tomato based sauce poured over it, and it was delicious.

There were other stalls-rows of vegetable stalls, eggs, a stall with a huge barrel of sauerkraut, and pickles, comic books, meat of all kinds, socks and underwear, and many others. In front of the building there were dozens of flower stalls.

I stopped in another store and made a small purchase, but could not understand how much to pay.  So I held out my hand with my zlotys and the woman at the register reached over and selected what she needed.  Like Euros, there are 5, 2, and 1 zloty coins, plus something like 50, 20, 10 , 5, 2 and 1 cent coins.  I'm accumulating a mass of the smaller ones, unfortunately.  When change is given, it is not placed in your palm, but in a rounded out tray on the counter and you pick it up from there.

I got word today that my train ticket from Urumqi, China to the border has been arranged.  I am to receive instructions, plus some sort of printout that will assist me at the station with a presumably non-English speaking ticket agent via email.  My only challenge will be to find a printer between here and there.

wherever you go, there you are

A funny thing about travel, you take yourself with you.  It seems as though a stranger coming into a new situation should have an objective viewpoint from which to make reliable observations.  Not so, because it is all colored by ones's own biases, mood, and even physical surroundings.

Like most humans, I suspect, I am a mixture of things.  While I am independent and value autonomy and time alone, I also value social and intellectual discourse and meaningful human interaction.  The everyday civilities grease the skids of life, and observation of kindness of a stranger to another, often given reflexively and without possible return fills my insides with warmth and gives me hope for humanity.

But I come to these new experiences with pre-formed ideas about what those things look like, and I am either disappointed or surprised as a result when things are not as expected. This stirring of the pot is a good thing, I know, however uncomfortable it may be at the time.  It turns out the heaviest baggage I carry is within.

Warsaw by light of day

I have the feeling of moving to a more remote and slightly less amenable place.  No greeting unless doing business with me, and then no smile.  I have been warned to carry my bag in front, watch for theft more times in the half day I have been here than in all the days in Berlin, London or in Belgium.  I am assuming they speak the truth.

Going to change money felt a bit like a smuggler's run.  Yesterday my host accompanied me to a money changer so I could pay him in Zlotys, the Polish currency.  Today I went back and changed the rest of my Euros and some dollars for some Russian rubles.  Seemed like a lot of money to get back 8,000 rubles, but once converted to dollars, it is not so much. So now I have dollars, zlotys and rubles.  I have had to make a separate place for each type of currency so I don't pull out the wrong kind.

The sense of personal space appears to be shrinking too as I move east, which I was forewarned about.  It felt odd to have strangers come up directly behind me as I stood at the money exchange counter, and when walking down the street, it is nothing to bump and be bumped, with no acknowledgement forthcoming.  I have to remember not to take offense when clipped from behind and then ignored.  It's just the way of things.

I am going to try to describe the underground warren of life here in a future post, along with the extensive indoor space above ground.  I have to assume it comes of long harsh winters, but I do not know.  It may be that the underground is a result of the Second World War, I will try to find out.

I've started talking to myself

There is no "All aboard!" announcement, no whistle.  When departure time comes, the train just quietly rolls out of the station.  There are multiple train companies operating various local and long distance lines throughout Europe, which makes train travel easy.  Today I was traveling on Polrail, from Berlin to Warsaw.  I was in 2nd class, in a 6 person compartment.  We sat 3 x 3, and I got what for me was the best possible seat-by the window, and facing the direction of travel.

The woman across from me seemed rather cross, doing a lot of rustling about, establishing her foot space, etc.  But I was excited about the trip, and undaunted by her mutterings. And if I am honest, I must say that I readily pushed back when she stepped on my toes.  We traveled east out of Berlin, retracing my trip from my hostel in the morning.  Before long we were past the city, and while I tried, I could not tell when we entered Poland.  The first indication was a station sign in Polish seen out the window.

After a while I worked up the nerve to explore, and found a delightful cafe car.  I sat at a table for two, ate breakfast and watched the world go by. Back at the compartment, all was not bliss.  Ms Grumpy had apparently been on the phone for quite a while (and continued to be).  The man sitting by the door grimaced and told me she was being rude by not stepping out in the corridor.

Traveling where you do not know the language is both isolating and insulating.  I can happily ignore the conductor's announcements, but I cannot ask questions about what I am seeing, which means I miss out on some things.

We rolled by forests, ponds and mysterious paths along the way, remote overpasses covered in graffiti.  There were fields and farms, streams and marshes, and I tried hard to capture them in my mind.  I wished to ask about the weather and the crops.  I saw corn ready for harvest, some stubble where it already had been, fields of cabbages and other things I could not name.  But I also saw fields with what looked like newly started cabbage, and some that must surely be winter wheat still green and new.  I wonder when they get a frost, I would have thought it would be soon. Scarecrows in a fenced in garden, cows in the pasture, and farmhouses with their requisite outbuildings sprinkled about could have been anywhere in the upper Midwest.  Marlene, you would feel right at home, I think.

I tried hard to stay awake, knowing it is unlikely I will ever pass this way again. I have been advised by several people that I should go to Krakow, because Warsaw was nearly bombed to the ground by Hitler, and therefore there are not a lot of historical buildings left here.  Part of me regrets that I am not going, and another reminds myself that there are things I will miss.  I need a few more lifetimes.

This made me wonder though, about how we assign value to places to visit.  What about history, about antiquity draws us? Even people who expressly say they do not like history tend to like to see the pyramids in Cairo, or the medieval city in Krakow.  I wonder. Out loud sometimes.

I have a small studio apartment to myself here, which is nice because I can do laundry, and do some organizing for the next stage of the journey, without having to think about locking it all away when I go out.  My instructions, received via email, were to walk toward the Iintercontinental Hotel, then turn down the street next to it that had a neon Museum sign, and then it gave me the address. I had to ask for the hotel, but the rest was as promised.  When I rounded the corner at the Museum sign, I saw a man standing down at the corner, and I wondered if he was watching for me.  I had mentioned that I had a backpack in my email, so he approached me.  Funny way to check in.  I am at Starbucks now, because my little place does not have internet.  I am going for some dinner in a while and then back to my temporary home, and hope the rain is cleared tomorrow. I actually don't know what time it is here, but I will soon.

Wrapping up Berlin

Yesterday, my final day in Berlin, I went to Hermanstrasse, where Clay and his family lived over 25 years ago.  I got off at the wrong U bahn stop, but with a little help, I found Hermanstrasse, and saw that I was in the 100 block.  Since my goal was in the 200's, I was sure I was close.  It turns out that the numbering, at least in this neighborhood, is quite different. Each block included approximately four numbers, such as 116-120.  When I realized this, I knew I had a bit further to go than I expected.   Each side of the street seemed to have its own sequence going on: on my side I might be in the 120 rancge and the other side would be 79-82.  I never did figure out the order, but eventually found the right address. 

It, like all of Berlin that I have seen, is clean, the sidewalks are wide, with a lane for bicycles and for pedestrians.  Lots of small shops on the ground floor, and residential flats above them.  Because I walked quite a way down Hermanstrasse, I was able to see the neighborhood shift, both in terms of affluence and ethnicity.  That too was interesting.  Clay's old neighborhood had a lot of kebap shops, about half of the women were either head scarved or more, with a sprinkling of Germans thrown in.  I tried to get in the building where Clay had lived but the door was locked.  So I wandered, taking pictures, and trying to visualize life for Clay and Mary Kay, in the military, with three small children and 5 flights of stairs to climb to their flat.  Eventually I came back to the door just as a young woman was leaving, but I missed catching it, so I asked her to open it for me, that I needed to get to the top flat.  She looked a bit nervous about it, but I tried to act nonchalant, and something worked-she opened it even as she said she wasn't sure if she should.  I just thanked her and went in before she could change her mind.

Afterward I wandered some more, at each turn finding new things to explore.  I am glad that errand took me out to that neighborhood, as a result of it I saw a part of Berlin I would not have.  I remain amazed at how clean this city is.  People not only do not litter, they pick it up if someone else does.  I know I am generalizing, and on very slight information.  But each place one goes to seems to have a feel or a vibe of its own.  And this city feels safe and orderly.  People do jaywalk, but only in lesser traveled streets.  They use the bike lanes, and the bikes do not run the lights.  Last night in the dark as I took my sore feet home, I saw a bicyclist drop their U-lock in the middle of the intersection.  Another bicyclist stopped to retrieve it for him. 

I am not sure if all this order is a good idea, it scares me a little.  Then again, as a traveler, I am not sure I have ever felt more secure as I walked around.  Too little time to tell.

As Clay said in his comment, this city is alive, there is a lot going on.  I got to very little in the way of museums, and I regret that.  There is an area near here called Museum Island, with incredible old buildings and gardens, bridges across the river, sculpture and other public art.  One could spend days there.  I am told the nightlife is great, but I was always too tired to find out.  Besides, I would never get past face control. 

I had a package to mail, so in the afternoon I went to the post office.  As in London, the post office seems to also function as a lower end bank and provides other services as well. I had been a little nervous about getting a package posted but by this time, I knew that the Germans would have a system, as they seem to have one for everything.  And once I had the correct form completed, I was done and out in the time it would have taken me to post a package from Santa Rosa to Ohio.

I am off to the train this morning, to Warsaw.  Speaking of trains, the one from Cologne to Berlin showed the speed of the train from time to time on the screen that was also used to announce stations.  The fastest I saw was 246 km/hr.  Whoosh.  See you when they spit me out the other end.

the day continues...

 There is a U Bahn stop across the street from my hostel front door, literally (see photos).  I took that across town for an Embassy visit, and then of course ran into other interesting things in the neighborhood.  I gradually made my way back to the center of town and the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Gate and Potsdamerplatz, from where I followed the brick trail that denotes the location of the Wall-I believe this is the Western line, with the death strip between that and another wall inside it.  I visited an old guard tower along the way. So much of the old stuff was destroyed, either as the city modernized, or in the aftermath of the Wall coming down because people wanted rid of all of the reminders.  Eventually some of it  was protected.

I think it would be hard to be a Berliner, with respect to the rest of the world.  Living here would probably not be any kind of burden, what I have seen is a clean, ordered city (I did see a few homeless people this morning), with fantastic art, cultural life, architecture, infrastructure... but still, just as we Americans bear the burden of how our prior (and current) generations treated Indians, or slavery, or pick your shame, so the German people have some history to live down that may take a few more generations. I am reminded that the Nazis had no corner on cruelty, we see it all over the world.  Then again, I seem to have a guilt complex, so maybe I overapply that to others. 

I went to the Topography of Terrors along the way.  I am going to post only a couple of photos from the exhibition, but be warned that they are photos of death.  I walked away from the building somewhat undone, not by Hitler and his henchmen exactly, although of course they were evil.  It was the looks on the faces of many of the people as they were humiliated, beaten, tortured and killed, for such crimes as being of the wrong race, religion, sexual orientation or political beliefs.  Or maybe because someone coveted their property, or had an old grudge to settle.  The police were given such complete power in daily life, and ultimately the choice of life or death; people were taught by public demonstrations of shaming, death or other rebukes; there was no meaningful way to dissent.  And then I thought of so many other circumstances of terror both now and in history, some involving only a small group of people, some a whole race.  It is not new to humans.  I am reading The History of the World, by Frank Welsh, arguably not complete nor even scholarly (sorry, Tyler and Lilly). We have been conquering, killing, kidnapping and other happy things since we came into being.  All very interesting from an academic perspective, but to see those faces, those eyes today.  Holy shit.  I just walked and cried, and put music in my ears and wished it weren't so.

Then on to Checkpoint Charlie, which was the way that Clay drove when he entered the Communist East with his busload of tourists.  Now it is a touristy thing, but I found it moving nonetheless, thinking about my brother's personal history there. 

It has been quite a day.  A very good day to be alive.

I am posting some photos to Picasa now, will try to post a link, or you can use the link from my post a few days ago too.

the day continues...

 There is a U Bahn stop across the street from my hostel front door, literally (see photos).  I took that across town for an Embassy visit, and then of course ran into other interesting things in the neighborhood.  I gradually made my way back to the center of town and the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Gate and Potsdamerplatz, from where I followed the brick trail that denotes the location of the Wall-I believe this is the Western line, with the death strip between that and another wall inside it.  I visited an old guard tower along the way. So much of the old stuff was destroyed, either as the city modernized, or in the aftermath of the Wall coming down because people wanted rid of all of the reminders.  Eventually some of it  was protected.

I think it would be hard to be a Berliner, with respect to the rest of the world.  Living here would probably not be any kind of burden, what I have seen is a clean, ordered city (I did see a few homeless people this morning), with fantastic art, cultural life, architecture, infrastructure... but still, just as we Americans bear the burden of how our prior (and current) generations treated Indians, or slavery, or pick your shame, so the German people have some history to live down that may take a few more generations. I am reminded that the Nazis had no corner on cruelty, we see it all over the world.  Then again, I seem to have a guilt complex, so maybe I overapply that to others. 

I went to the Topography of Terrors along the way.  I am going to post only a couple of photos from the exhibition, but be warned that they are photos of death.  I walked away from the building somewhat undone, not by Hitler and his henchmen exactly, although of course they were evil.  It was the looks on the faces of many of the people as they were humiliated, beaten, tortured and killed, for such crimes as being of the wrong race, religion, sexual orientation or political beliefs.  Or maybe because someone coveted their property, or had an old grudge to settle.  The police were given such complete power in daily life, and ultimately the choice of life or death; people were taught by public demonstrations of shaming, death or other rebukes; there was no meaningful way to dissent.  And then I thought of so many other circumstances of terror both now and in history, some involving only a small group of people, some a whole race.  It is not new to humans.  I am reading The History of the World, by Frank Welsh, arguably not complete nor even scholarly (sorry, Tyler and Lilly). We have been conquering, killing, kidnapping and other happy things since we came into being.  All very interesting from an academic perspective, but to see those faces, those eyes today.  Holy shit.  I just walked and cried, and put music in my ears and wished it weren't so.

Then on to Checkpoint Charlie, which was the way that Clay drove when he entered the Communist East with his busload of tourists.  Now it is a touristy thing, but I found it moving nonetheless, thinking about my brother's personal history there. 

It has been quite a day.  A very good day to be alive.

I am posting some photos to Picasa now, will try to post a link, or you can use the link from my post a few days ago too.

Tuesday morning

Up early and out in the cold, crisp autumn day to explore.  I was delighted to see the sun hitting the tops of the high buildings, with a promise of a little warmth, or at least no water dripping on my head.  It was surprising how much more I saw of my neighborhood this morning as compared to last night in the rain.  Part of my plan for the day was influenced by my brother Clay, who served in the Army and was stationed in Berlin,  In addition to his Army gig, he also drove tour buses to the East side of Berlin on weekends.  A lot has changed in the years since the Wall came down, and I wanted to see if I could get any sense of what Clay saw, and where possible, follow his steps.

I started at Alexanderplatz, partly because it is a few blocks from my hostel. Clay said that he used to drive the tour bus there. I didn't see any sign of the old hotel he used to get struedel and ice cream at, but I bet it has changed a lot since then.  Everywhere I turned, there was something new to stare at and I was constantly changing directions as I saw an interesting street, or building, or any other thing.  It was too early for anything but coffee shops to be open.  I did not realize until talking with Clay that I was staying in an area that used to be behind the Wall. 

As I wrote this, I was sipping coffee in a café in the sunshine, watching Berliners commute to work, lots of them on their bicycles.  The bicycle lanes are lovely, and they even have their own traffic signals. I tried to order my coffee and pastry in German, but of course the counter person answered in English.

I've heard it said that Berlin has been the world's largest construction zone for years, and I believe it.  Lots of it everywhere.  But it is all very orderly, and everyone seems to proceed in a measured and orderly manner. The metro and bus systems are quite slick, and with bicycles, who needs a car?  S Bahn are sort of express metro/subway lines, and U Bahn are more local- they stop more frequently.  But they are all tied in together, so even I can get around with ease on my first day here and without signs in English,  All I need is a metro map, and then I know the end station of the line, so I  get on the train going the right way.

Back to my room for a bit, and then off to run a couple of errands.

change in the weather

Monday am:  sitting on the floor in the Brussels train station, munching on a chocolate croissant and feeling pleased to be here. Sleep eluded me most of the night and I was worried about schlepping my pack and figuring out where I was going, feeling lousy.  But today is better.

Each day that I leave a place, somehow I repack differently. I suppose by the end of the trip I'll have a perfect system worked out.  Already I want to shed a few things.  As always, the hardest thing is books.  I dread running out of reading material on some bus on the backroads of western China, or some other place where english language bookstores are scarce. So I have too many for this first half of the journey

pm: No surprise, but I slept through the German countryside on the way to Berlin.  It is overcast and cool here, not my favorite weather. My first train took me from Brussels to Cologne, where I had about an hour and a half before my train for Berlin.  I thought I would check in my pack for the hour but when I tried to operate the machine, I got nervous when I couldn't find the 'ok' button.  It is a sort of conveyor system- you put in your money, it opens a sort of vault, and you put your bag in and then you are supposed to hit 'ok', and then the 'close door' button.  I looked everywhere for a button marked OK, but could not find it.  When the door started to close with my bag inside, I decided that I would rather not take the chance.  I am sure I would have gotten it back eventually, but probably after my train had run.

I walked over to the Cathedral, an awe inspiring building due to its size and the incredible spans inside.  The clerestory windows of the Kings date from about 1310, as do other parts of the building.  The outside is dingy and coated with years of grime, but even with that you can see the incredible structure that it is.  Built during the Middle Ages, way before mechanized tools, cranes and various other things that would seem to be necessary for the construction of such a place.

The place I am staying in Berlin is a hostel, as in youth hostel.  I have a single room, with shared bathroom.  Three days, I hope this wasn't a mistake.  I am sitting in the bar now, because there is no internet access in the rooms.  At least these inhabitants are less likely to  be bothered by my constant sniffling, coughing and nose blowing than those in a nicer place.  More about Berlin in the next couple of days, I hope.

I woke this morning to the sound of rain, and empty streets.  But as I came back from an errand later, I heard music, and rounding the corner near my hotel, I saw an all-rhythm band dancing as they played.  They were like pied pipers, drawing the crowd behind them as they marched along. Hard not to smile, it was infectious.

There are a lot of families out on bikes, and most stores are closed, it being Sunday.

The streets in this area are alternately wide and accommodating for cars, and then narrow lanes with shops or tables on each side, that turn for no apparent reason, and change names frequently.  It's easy to get lost.

I wish I knew more about a lot of things, and architecture is one of those things.  The Grand Place has some medieval buildings that stand tall like giant decorated cakes, too fragile to touch, so that they almost do not seem real. To better understand the stories behind these buildings would take another lifetime, I think.

In Bruges, I gave up taking photos, unable to give name to any of the statues or even remember the stages of the cross in the churches. And what was the meaning of the raised dots on the spires above the building?  I feel incredibly ignorant, like I slept through a large section of my proper education. I am told that Bruges - that is the medieval buildings and canals, survived only because it was a backwater town, forgotten and undeveloped, and so it avoided the modernization and/or destruction of progress long enough to be appreciated for its antiquity.  The canals had silted in, but have since been restored, and the town's inhabitants mostly ride bicycles rather than drive cars for which the streets were not built.

I am off to Berlin via Cologne early tomorrow. My stopover in Cologne (Koln) should be long enough for lunch and a visit to the famous cathedral.

a softer landing

Last night was dark and stormy, both inside and out. Easier to manage the rainstorms, especially since it was a warm rain.

I was struggling with my power issues, and couldn't let it go. Without the tablet, I have no email or phone. Were this 5 years ago, I could have gotten by at internet cafes, but those have largely disappeared owing to the ubiquity of wi-fi, even in remote places. It is now expected that you will have your own computer. While I like the idea of traveling off-line, it's not really practical when everyone is so connected.

So I managed to damage my adapter. I was in bed, just dozing off, and I got a bright idea that had me wide awake and rummaging around. Turns out electrical engineering is outside the scope of my skill set and my idea made some crackles and pops, with something black oozing from the adapter. This led me down an unpleasant path wherein I doubted just about all my decisions to date. I even threw in some career decisions, because at 12:30 am, when all seems to be going wrong, why not?

I woke in the same frame of mind, that no doubt colored my perspective on Bruges. It is a quaint town, with picturesque canals, incredible architecture, and very nice people. But this morning's crowds got to me, and this was one of those times when it was good that there was no one on whom to inflict my mood. I'm not very fond of touristy places in general. It's not Bruges' fault that they have such amazing treasures under their feet and over their heads, and I can't fault them for the way they have managed the continual onslaught of voyeurs. Still, it's not what I seek when I travel.

I spent some time in a surprisingly extensive computer store. They were unable to help me. The tech then suggested I contact Dell online. It took all my manners to politely ask how I was to do that without a powered computer. Sven then nicely allowed me to get online on one of their display Mac's. I had just started an online chat session with Dell, and a couple started hovering, inches from me. I was sweating, trying to respond quickly to the tech online, and knowing I was in the way of legitimate sales. The only good part was that while the couple was muttering-no they were outright talking about my hogging the one computer they wanted to try-i couldn't understand them. I was feeling that I was running out of options, so I stood there while they literally breathed down my neck. They must have complainedbecayse soon a salesperson approached. I pulled my Sven card, and he told me to take my time. All to no avail, Dell couldn't help me, at least not for some weeks. I had conceived of several back up options during the night, and so that salesperson ended up selling me their cheapest tablet. This one is configured for 220 volts, and with a converter, I'm back in business. It doesn't solve my power issue for my camera or iPod, but I have an idea for those that may work out.

About this time I realized I was getting a cold, and while none of this is really all that much to worry over, I decided it was time for a change of venue. So I retrieved my pack, and headed for the train station.

I'm back in Brussels and have found a delightfully right in the thick of things (this may mean a noisy night, but I don't mind), close to the metro station that takes me to the train. Today turned out to be some sort of festival, with parades and costumes, twisting narrow lanes packed with all manner of things, and while my cold is no better, I've recovered my equilibrium. Laundry done, euros in hand finally, and I'm staying put tomorrow too, so no need to put on my pack for a day.

People are really helpful at every turn. I was standing in the metro station in Brussels after buying a ticket, trying to figure out which train to take. None of the signs were in English, and I was wandering from one display to another looking for the magic words. An old man spoke to me in Dutch, and I answered in English, but I showed him on the map the stop I wanted. He said 3 or 4, and showed me which turnstile to enter. I saw him watching me out of the corner of his eye to see that I boarded the right train. He got off two stops before me and I hoped to catch his eye to say thank you, but he didn't look back.

A lot of French spoken here, some Dutch, and most know some English too. There are tourists from all over here, judging by the languages I'm hearing. It is impossible to guess anyone's nationality until they open their mouths. I've more than once thought that someone looked American, and then overheard French spoken between themselves. This sometimes creates a false sense of privacy. I stopped for a crepe and coffee earlier, and found that two men who had clearly just met were swappingtravel stories, in American English. But I had not spoken. They talked about the red light district of Amsterdam, and other entertaining stories, and I shamelessly eavesdropped.

And so ends another day, they slide by so fast already.

photos

I uploaded more photos, this time to Picasso. Here is the link, I hope:https://plus.google.com/117262794551578669230. Let me know if it works, thanks.

from London to Belgium

(Lola, you would have liked the Tower of London, we got to see a rack, and another torture device that sort of squished people instead of pulling them apart.)

I thought I had solved my computer power issue, but alas, I have not.  Down to 25% juice, I shall have to try again tomorrow.  I spent a little while at the British Museum, an amazing collection!  I guess being the colonizer for a lot of years gives you a head start on collecting antiquities.  I will post a few photos once I have a way to recharge my tablet. (Lola, I took a picture of an actual human skull).

I have tried, but failed, to figure out which side of the sidewalk is appropriate to walk on in England.  Since they drive on the left, I wondered if that changed the usual rules about walking on the right.  If there is some protocol, I could not tell.  I seemed always to be going against the grain, whichever side I tried.

Today I took my first of several train trips, from London St Pancras to Brussels.  In order to board the train I had to go through French passport control, which was a surprise.  I should have realized, but did not, that I would be going through France.  I was excited about the Chunnel, but it was a rather dark and sleep inducing interlude.  My seatmate spoke only French, so we had very little to talk about. The train hurtled along at a high rate of speed (Clay, I need that app you have for telling the speed of the train).  At the places where we ran parallel to the highway, we were going much faster than any autos,

The French countryside looked amazingly like Wisconsin from the distance of the train.  I saw fields of corn, some legumes, and some plowed and empty fields, holstein cows and brick houses. I wish I could have said when we left France for Belgium but it was not marked as far as I could see.  As soon as I got to Brussels, I went in search of a ticket on the train to Bruges.  I had some language problems, and had no Euro coins for the toilet.  Not the most comfortable hour, but eventually ended up with a ticket and here I am.  I had thought that with the summer over, Bruges might not be so busy, but boy was I wrong.  And of course I failed to note that this is Friday.  So when I went to the hotel I had picked out, it was full, as was the one across the street.  Ok, deep breath, there will be a place somewhere.  I walked on and saw a sign for a B&B, and rang their bell.  They had no room but Benedict and Rita took my under their wing.  First I was invited in while they figured out who might have room.  Then I was upstairs in their living room while Rita searched online.  Then Benedict decided to escort me to the place that they thought had room. This turned out to be a false lead, and so we went on, with Benedict pushing his bicycle (he planned to ride it home after getting me set) and asking each innkeeper, who then suggested another.  One finally called the place I am staying now, and it was as much a relief to get Benedict off the hook as it was to get a room.  I am pretty sure he was repenting of his good deed by then, but unable to desert me.  If anyone is going to Bruges, check  out B&B Huyze Walburga (www.huyzewalburga.be), I can vouch for Benedict and Rita.  I still can`t believe they went so out of their way for a complete stranger. I have this room only for tonight, so I will have to make a new plan tomorrow.  But first I will explore this town.  It is incredibly beautiful, with canals, and medieval buildings.

Until I get my power issue resolved I will be offline from here on out, I fear.

a few photos from London

Early morning Chinatown

On Trafalgar Square

Clay, this is for you

On the way to Buckingham/Palace

Westminster Abbey

St Paul's Cathedral

Teri, I found your bike

Tower of London

The Traitor`s Gate, where Anne Boleyn entered before her untimely demise

Tower Bridge

All the cabs I saw were this type of car

unplugged

In the days leading up to leaving, I couldn't quite get my mind around this trip-I felt as though I should perhaps pinch myself, because how could it be that things would work out to allow me the opportunity for such a trip? Already after one day here I have settled into a traveling frame of mind, and this now is my reality. Real life has fallen away, helped by not having a phone to check, not being able to text or call folks at home. 

I've discovered that I forgot sunscreen, and broke my sunglasses en route, but these are easy to address.  More challenging is my tablet charger. Last night I had stopped in a coffee shop to get online, and plugged in my adapter, and attached my charger cord.  It popped and smoked and leaked something dark that seemed rather vital.  I quickly pulled it out and laid it on the table.  My neighbor at the next table and I then sort of stared at it for a minute.  There is more than one way to connect to people, it appears.  The guy at the front desk of my hotel could not give me a name of a store but told me which street it is on, so I am detouring this morning to replace the fried plug and adapter. While the idea of being completely off-grid for a time is appealing, I am fairly sure I will get a bit of that later in the trip. 

Yesterday was the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey and lots of wandering.  I'm reading (re-reading, it turns out) Patrick Leigh Fermor's book about his travels in Europe in, I think, the 1930's.  Last night when he talked about Picadilly, the Mint, Trafalgar Square and more, I smiled because now I actually have been to those places and the names have more meaning as a result. Alas, we part ways today, because he headed through Holland, and I'm off to Brussels on the 2:00 train.  Why?  I don't know, nor do I have a plan, a hotel reservation or even a map. I know I miss things sometimes by failing to investigate in advance, but there is something freeing about this approach to travel. I did read quite a bit about the various places I will visit, but I found myself getting weary of it sometime before I got to reading about Brussels.

how does this power thing work?

The day began early, because of course I could not sleep.  Up and out wandering at 6 am, but that worked out well. The city was fairly quiet at that hour.  I passed a coffee shop and stopped in.  I did not see my usual café au lait on the menu, so I asked for a mix of coffee and steamed milk. Somehow this turned out to be only 99 pence, but I could not figure out why.

It turns out that the Queen opens up some of the state rooms in Buckingham Palace during the summer, so I got in on a tour.  I walked, rode the Tube, and walked some more.

This place is closing, gotta go!  I have apparently fried my charge cord, so will have to try to find something like Radio Shack.  More when I can...