Colmar / Prague / Switzerland / Frieburg / Vienna / Munich

Ok, here we go. Four weekends in one post. Let’s see how this works out.

Colmar, France: Skylar, Steven, Aaron, Molly, Julia, Christy and I went to this quaint (okay Christy and Molly, the town is cute) little town in the Alsace region of France. The whole place looks like La Madelaine, very nice. Also very expensive. It was actually cheaper for us to stay in a hotel than rent beds in a hostel. We saw the wonderful Musee d’Unterlinden housed in an old monastery. The highlight of the collection is the Issenheim altarpiece, this amazing five or six part painting depicting, among other things, St. Anthony being tempted by some creature that must have inspired “Where the Wild Things Are.” The painting was beautiful, a really neat piece of art. It was weird to see all these people there discussing it in a secular sense, as some dead piece of history, when to me it is still so profoundly alive and spiritual. I thought that was sad. We also did a nice self-guided walking tour of the town, saw a cool water tower and cathedral and generally enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Prague, Czech Republic: Boys trip this time, Skylar, Aaron, Steven, and I. We took a sleeper train to Prague, shared our berth with “Smelly-snoring-man.” It was not the most comfortable night. Prague is a really beautiful town, lots of high baroque architecture with a really cool “astronomical clock.” Actually, Prague had a lot going on for it in the way of clock towers. We spent two days there, did the walking tour, watched blue-grass bands perform on the St. Charles Bridge, saw the old Jewish quarter with it’s ridiculous cemetery, and drank the best beer of my life. It was so good. One night we went to a jazz club, and met a very drunk Norwegian who claimed to be “the last viking.” He offered to take us up to his room for some “drinks,” but having seen one too many slasher flicks, we politely declined. I will say that the town felt a little touristy and trashy sometimes, like they were really trying to cash-in on their new-found status as the “it” place in Europe right now. I think it will be a really amazing city in about ten years when it has calmed down a bit and “grown up” a bit.

Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland: Meghan and I went to Lauterbrunnen for a day to enjoy some hiking in the Alps. Out friends mercilessly made fun of us for going on a couples weekend–even though we aren’t a couple, to which my lady-friend in Waco can attest. Switzerland is profoundly beautiful, and our hostel was situtated right in the middle of this huge glacier carved valley beneath the Eiger and Jungfau peaks. We spent the day hiking and cable-carring from village to village, sampling the local cheese and chocolate, marveling and God’s glorious creation. I particularly enjoyed the culture, everyone was a farmer and lived idyllic lives as cattle-herders and cheese-makers. It made me want to do that myself, actually.

Frieburg, Germany: On our way back from Switzerland, we stopped off in Frieburg to check out the Black Forest. We stayed at an amazing hostel built in an old warehouse that had musical instruments and a library. Frieburg reminded me a lot of Colmar actually, very quaint and picturesque, with neat little guard towers all of the place. The Black Forest itself was fairly anti-climactic, but that was perhaps because we had just left the Alps. I would like to go back again in the summer time when things are blooming and the trees are green.

Vienna, Austria: For Easter break, Justin, Sarah, Sandy, and I went to Vienna and then Munich. Vienna has been my favorite city so far, like Prague, but classy. The Viennese really know how to live The Good Life. For instance, Vienna is the home of such great luxuries as the coffeehouse and the chicken-fried steak. Thanks to the plundering ways of the Hapsburgs, they also have some of Europe’s finest museums. I particularly enjoyed the royal treasury, which had Napoleon’s cradle, and also Schönbrunn Palace, the 1,400 room summer residence of the royal family, making me wonder what their normal place must have been like!

Munich, Germany: After a day in Prague, we headed off to Munich to sample the beer and see the sights. Sarah got sick and had to go home, but I will say 10 out of 10 to the German health-care system—she didn’t have to pay a dime for the doctor to see her at midnight the day before Easter. Munich is the heart of Bavaria, which is where most of our German stereotypes come from: beer, lederhosen, oompah bands, fabulous wealth, and of course, Nazis. Justin and I took the free walking tour sponsored by our hostel, which was really good. After the tour, we went out to a beer hall with our tour-guide, drank excellent beer from a comically oversized stein, ate sausage, and talked about the holocaust with an Israeli and a black Bavarian. That afternoon we also visited Dachau, a former concentration camp. It was strange being there, in the actual place where so many terrible things were done, and then juxtaposing that to how nice of a place Germany is today.

And that was my last weekend trip. Class ended a few days ago, and we are now into our first few days of “the Month” of travel! It’s been a whirlwind so far, and I can’t believe that I won’t be going back to Maastricht until the end of April, the day before we leave for the US. On one hand, I wish I had spent more time in Maastricht, soaking up its culture and history, but on the other hand, I have got to see so much. It amazes me to think that as a 21-year old, I will have seen the Western World. I have been truly blessed with these opportunities: thanks Mom, Dad, God.

As I mentioned though, we are now starting the Month. From the end of finals until the end of April we have off to go do as we please, so we’ve planned a grand tour of Europe. Here is my prospective itinerary:

Part I: TO THE NORTH
Copenhagen, Denmark
Bergen, Norway
Oslo, Norway
The Lofoten Islands, Norway – north of the Arctic Circle
Stockholm, Sweden

Part II: Wine and Tapas
Paris, France
Tours, France
Madrid, Spain
Seville, Spain
Barcelona, Spain

Part III: Is it Spelled Hercules or Heracles?
Cinque Terra, Italy
Roma, Italy
Florence, Italy
Corfu, Greece
Santorini, Greece
Athens, Greece

It’s highly ambitious, but I think we can do it! Wish us luck!

Berlin

I’m going to try and get caught up with posting this week. That unfortunately means, however, that the quality of these next few posts might not be that great. So, apologies in advance to the two of you who read this (Mom, Dad).

A few weekends ago Justin, Sarah, Molly, Christy, Sandy, and I went to Berlin. The city is so new and sparkling and well, un-European, if I may say so. Since it was practically destroyed during WWII, and then totally neglected during the Cold War, everything seemed to be younger than I am. It felt alot like the trendier parts of Dallas or Austin. Every now and then, however, you would stumble across places of immense historical significance — the spot where Hitler committed suicide, leftover sections of the Berlin Wall, the hotel where Michael Jackson dangled his baby out the window. It was surreal to see epic pieces of the past juxtaposed to the humdrum of living in the present.

On Saturday we took the New Berlin Free Walking Tour, which was great. The guides work on a tip-only basis, so they do a really good job. We saw all the major sites, the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Tor, the Holocaust memorial, the Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, Bebelplatz (the location of the infamous Nazi book-burning), I could go on. That night we had Mexican food, and it was delicious.

The next day, Justin and I wandered around the city while the girls went museuming. We stumbled across a wonderful street market with the best quiche and olives I have ever had. It was a really international moment – a Swedish woman with an American boyfriend selling French pastries on the East side of Berlin to an American studying in the Netherlands. We then walked to the grassy square on Museum Island and people watched for a few hours, lots of fun. We met up with the girls at the Pergamon Museum, which houses a very impressive collection of loot from ancient Greece, Rome, and the Near East. They reconstructed an entire Greek temple inside the place, along with the Ishtar Gate from Babylon and an excellent selection of Greco-Roman nude sculpture.

My most lasting impressions came from Berlin’s reactions to its Nazi and Communist past. Although the war ended more than 60 years ago, they still wear shame on their sleeve. The Holocaust memorial is huge, unsightly, and in the very middle of town–not to mention the official name, Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. The memorial in Bebelplatz bears the inscription, “Where they burn books, they will also burn humans in the end.” What must it be like, to be a German today, knowing that your parents or grandparents were part of such a terrifying movement? With regards to Communism, however, they seem to be doing their best to forget. During our walking tour, we crossed between East and West Berlin continuously, and I would not have known had it not been for our guide. When I look at the last 100 years of my family’s history, visiting Berlin becomes one of the more important events in my life I think. The idea that I sent my grandparents who fought in WWII and raised families during the Cold War a postcard from East Berlin staggers me.

Since Berlin, we’ve been to Colmar (small provincial town in France) and Prague – and this weekend I’m off to the Black Forest in Germany and the Swiss Alps – exciting!

Den Haag / Amsterdam / Zeewolde

Again with the lateness, I know. This post is about not last weekend, but three weekends ago. But my oh my, what a story it is!

Last weekend, Steven, Aaron, Skylar, and myself spent the weekend with a friend of Steven’s family, Ronald Wanders. Ronald lives with his family in Zeewolde, this tiny town in the middle of what used to be an inland sea, but those industrious Dutch drained the sucker about thirty years ago and built themselves some suburbs. Ronald is also a millionaire. Steven had also never met Ronald before. In fact, the only person who had met Ronald was Steven’s grandfather’s cousin. Despite this ridiculously thin connection however, Ronald invited us up to stay with him and his family for the weekend. Not wanting to refuse a free room, we of course accepted the invitation.

And so Thursday afternoon we hopped on the train to Zeewolde, not entirely sure what to expect. We arrived in Zeewolde that night, and called Ronald to come pick us up. A few minutes later, an Audi R8 and VW Golf screeched into the parking lot. This huge six-foot-four, 300-pound man wearing a black leather jacket and Ray Ban sunglasses climbed out of the R8 and grunted, “Is one of you fellas Steven Cutbirth?” We all looked at each other and knew we were in for a great weekend.

Despite the intimidating look, Ronald is one of the nicest men I have ever met. He is the epitome of hospitality. We weren’t expecting anything more than a place to sleep and night, and maybe directions to the bus stop. Not only did we get free lodging, but we had breakfast in the mornings, beers in the evenings, a posse of twenty year-olds to guide and chauffeur us around Zeewolde and Amsterdam, and-most surprisingly-access to his automobiles.

On Friday we were planning on taking the train to Den Haag, but Ronald told us to take the VW Golf. Before we headed out, we stopped by his office (his house and office are connected) to say goodbye, where we met his business partner, Eric. Looking out the window, I spied Ronald’s R8 parked next to Eric’s Audi S5, and joked, “So which one are we taking, the R8 or the S5?”

Eric cocked his head to one side and said, “Wait. I have idea.” He paused and looked at us inquisitively. “Do you want to take the S5?” We all laughed, thinking he was joking – the S5 is $100,000 of premium sports car – 350 horsepower, V8 engine, the works. But he just looked at us with a grin and glint in his eye. “Come. Come with me. We will see the car!”

We all followed diligently, making feeble attempts to decline the offer, but he countered us with every excuse. It was too small – “With a car like this, you don’t get space, you create space!” We don’t have Dutch driver’s licenses – “Can you drive in America? Then you are fine!” But Eric, it’s just too, well, nice – “Listen! The car? I don’t give a s#&% about it. Okay, well, I do give a s#&%, but I don’t. It’s fully insured, everything. Don’t worry! You are young, in the Netherlands, go have fun!” Before we knew it, Eric practically forced the keys into Skylar’s hands and we were on our way.

Bewildered but pleased, we typed Den Haag into the car’s navigation system and headed out. After a few hours of cruising we pulled into town and parked (very carefully). We walked to the Mauritshuis, one of the premiere art museums in the country, where we saw, among other things, Vermeer’s “Girl with a Pearl Earring” and a few self-portraits by Rembrandt. After touring the museum, we grabbed a bite of lunch and then headed back to the car. On the way to the car, however, we passed by a stand selling a dutch delicacy, raw-herring. Skylar and I couldn’t resist – check out the video:

Mmmmm….tasty!

Before turning around to head back to Zeewolde, we decided to take a detour to the town of Scheveningen to set our feet in the North Sea. We felt like we were at the end of the world, because the only thing beyond the horizon is the North Pole. But there was no time for further exploring, because we needed to get the car back to Eric. We made it back alright, albeit 45 minutes late – the navigation system tried to sabotage us – but it was okay, Eric didn’t care.

The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful. We went to dinner with Ronald’s oldest daughter, Vicki, and then met up with Ronald and his wife Tina at Zeewolde’s only pub. We nearly picked a fight with some local teenagers who had been giving Vicki some trouble in school, but we decided spending the night in Dutch jail wouldn’t be the best option.

The next day we took the Golf to Amsterdam. After spending a few hours trying to find free parking, we ended up parking in a local apartment complex and rode the tram into town. Amsterdam is a beautiful city, especially if the sun is shining like it did for us. We visited the Van Gogh and Rijk museums, both who had really impressive collections. I really liked Van Gogh’s “Wheat Field with Crows” and Rembrandt’s “The Nightwatch.” Both were neat, to say the least.

That night, we met up with another of Ronald’s friends, and he walked us around Amsterdam a little bit. It was getting late, so we didn’t really have much time to do anything, but we did manage to go see Amsterdam’s “famous windows” in the Red Light District. It was strange. I think that people tend to trivialize Amsterdam’s stance on prostitution, making a sort of joke about it. Joking makes it easier to gloss over what prostitution is all about. Being there, however, showed the sharp reality of it all – those are real women behind the glass, they have mothers and fathers somewhere – and it cleared away the facade to show how dirty and sad it all is.

And that was about it for our little adventure with Ronald. We headed back to Zeewolde that night, had some more pizza, played cards with Ronald’s family, and headed to bed. The next morning, he drove us into Utrecht to catch our train back to Maastricht. And this post has been long, and very narrative-esque, so I will end it here.

Istanbul

So, confession time. I’ve been getting behind with the posting. I wrote about Carnaval a week after the fact. And here I am, again a week late, writing about Istanbul, even though I just got back from the most amazing weekend in Amsterdam and Den Haag. I apologize to my two readers, I hope that you will not be offended.

So, Istanbul. Amazing. Possibly the best weekend of my life. It is certainly up there with my ‘best of’ list: camping with Team Gus, anything in Costa Rica, the Lake District in England. We were fairly apprehensive about Turkey – we had heard alot of horror stories about the city, being crowded and dirty and dangerous. But that was not the case – or I guess the city was all of that, but just not in an irritating way. In fact, I loved Istanbul for the same reasons people hate it – I found that all of that hustle and bustle was just exciting.

After landing at Atatürk airport, we met our totally awesome tour guide, Mr. Arda. He was about sixty or so, dressed like Mr. Rogers, and he said the funniest things. For instance, he always addressed us as “Dear friends,” as in, “Dear friends, dear friends, the bus will be leaving shortly.” When we were leaving the airport, he told us that it was named after the founder of modern Turkey, of whom it is illegal to speak poorly of, noting, “Here in Turkey, we have good impressions of our country’s founder.” Sometimes he had trouble remembering words, so he would circumnavigate his way around by using phrases like, “And now is the time where we meet the night” in place of “twilight.” My favorite phrase by far, however, was “comfort stop” in place of “toilet.” He would say, “Dear friends, we now go to gas station. If you need a comfort stop of urgent kind, go here. If it is of the regular kind, then wait for comfort stop at the restaurant.” Classic.

First off, Istanbul is big. I mean huge. Weighing in at just under 12 million people, it’s the fourth largest city in the world, and boy we could tell. People everywhere, buildings everywhere, cars everywhere, hardly room to breathe. During our first night in town, Aaron, Skylar, Steven, and I (‘The Firm’) went out to find some dinner along the main shopping street in Istanbul, in the Taksim Square district. It was unbelievable – the street goes on for miles and miles, with trendy store after trendy store – Puma, Levi’s, Diesel – right next to crappy tourist shops and döner kebap stands. And of course wall to wall people, not to mention the trolly working its way down the middle of the lane and the occasional car as well.

The next day, we woke up for our first full day of tourism. Mr. Arda took us on a greatest hits tour of the city – the Hippodrome, the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the Byzantine Cistern, and that was just before lunch. I was most impressed by just the sheer size of everything. The Hagia Sofia, for instance, is almost tall enough to fit the ALICO building underneath it, and it was built in the sixth century! Walking inside and seeing its enormity was like feeling the weight of the building’s rich history come crashing down upon my shoulders in one awe-inspiring moment. The Byzantine Cistern, a vast underground water reservoir from the sixth century, was also very impressive. I kept wondering, how did they make this? And how was this able to last through the centuries?

That afternoon we visited the Grand Bazaar, which is one of the world’s largest covered markets – over 4000 stores, 60 streets, 250,000 visitors daily. Turkey is known for a variety of quality products - besides the bootleg Louis Vuitton bags sold in every tourist shop – leather, glass, meerschaum, and handwoven carpets. So Justin, Sarah, and I wandered up and down the miles of shops, being accosted by the vendors to visit their shop, and this is a direct quote now: “My American friends! Come in, come in, what are you looking for? Let me help you spend your money!”

Thankfully the dollar is still worth more than the lira (YTL), so we were actually able to find some good deals. See, bargaining is the word in the Bazaar – the say 100, you say 20, and walk away. For instance, Sarah wanted to buy a carpet. We visited a few shops, talking prices, and wound up getting a 150 YTL carpet for 50 YTL. When we were bargaining, the vendor joked with Sarah, “You have excellent finance minister – you have expensive taste, he keep firm price!” We finally got him to come down to our price by getting up and heading for the door – with a flurry of hands and much sighing he shouted, “Okay, okay! Fifty lira! You are getting very good price, very good!” Buying that carpet was probably my favorite thing I did my whole time in Istanbul actually – I love the arguing and bargaining and the cultural interaction in general. I bought for myself a Meerschaum pipe, carved in the shape of a Turkish sultan. It is totally boss (to quote Juno). Justin swears that when he came into the shop the vendor and I yelling at each other “Forty! Sixty! Forty is as high as I go! No, sixty! Fine, I’m leaving!” and then him chasing me out of the store, “Okay, okay, forty it is!”

That evening, we went back to Taksim square and ate not one, but two döner kebaps – so tasty, my word – and then went to a lounge to enjoy a nargile – hookah, which is a water-pipe (tobacco only, Mom). This was also something I had been looking forward to, because I had always heard that hookah smoking was a big part of Arab culture. The guys who ran the place got a real kick out of us Americans trying to smoke, coughing about every five seconds!

The next morning we took a cruise up the Bosphorus river, which again illustrated the enormousness of Istanbul – the city sprawls along both sides of the thirty kilometer strait, reaching from the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea, spanning the gap between Europe and Asia.

After a delicious lunch, we took a tour of the Topkapı Palace, home to the Ottoman sultans of old. The palace is now a museum, housing various bits of Ottoman history, including ancient carpets and treasures from conquered lands. It had a very “Aladdin-plus-Islam” feel. My favorite exhibit, however, was their vast collection of religious relics. They claim to have in their possession some pretty crazy stuff – the Cooking Pots of Abraham, the Staff of Moses, the Sword of King David, the Skull and Arm of John the Baptist, and the Various Personal Effects of the Prophet Muhammad, including his cloak, sword, battle sabres, letters, footprint, five or six hairs from his beard, and one tooth. And the museum takes this stuff seriously – prayers from the Qur’an have been recited continuously in the Chamber of the Sacred Relics for the past 500 years. Even though I seriously doubted the authenticity of alot of the relics, it was still very interesting to see.

And that was pretty much it. Well, there were lots of other really great stories, like playing make-it-or-break-it and friends version 2.1, but this post is long. One final note however: Atatürk airport is ludicrously expensive. It would have been comical actually, if we hadn’t been so hungry. They were charging $15 for a Whopper. But I really stuck it to the man by filling out one of their comment cards and selecting ‘Very Dissatisfied’ for everything!

Stories from the most ridiculous weekend of my life are coming soon. Preview: Dutch millionaires, sports cars, priceless paintings, raw herring, and Amsterdam.