Kanoodle.

A quick yet pleasant trip to Munich further proved that most cities share the same general characteristics: bustling crowds, shopping, buses/taxis, sidewalk food vendors, and McDonald's. I have noticed relatively little variation from one city to the next beyond slight architectural and language differences. Of course, visiting each one is no less intriguing especially having witnessed my first real snow fall in far too long.

Munich's famous Hofbräuhaus beer hall welcomed us with liters of beer and authentically prepared pork knuckle. Oh, and how could I forget, kanoodles!

(photograph courtesy of Sequoia Alba)

Munich became the home of my first hostel experience which with I was not at all displeased. The rooms were surprisingly clean and the staff, welcoming, not to mention, the delicious aptly named continental breakfast equipped with clementines and individual portions of liverwurst.

Really, what more could you ask for? We took the train to an extremely creepy deserted adult theme park that consisted of a bunch of strangely themed bars and casinos gathered together in the middle of a neighborhood of office buildings. Considering the entirety of the German population is only ever seen wearing various shades of black and brown and the environment seems to follow suit, it was particularly odd to witness such a kitschy composition of color and theme.

Then, we visited a second-hand clothing store that had thousands of scarves as well as traditional dirndl and lederhosen. I had to stop myself from buying out the whole store. Did I mention that you can buy loaves of bread almost anywhere in Germany, including random shops located every ten feet in the train station?

As you can see, they take their carbohydrates very seriously here.
On a last and final note of the night, it is very cold here, and when I say cold, I mean cold. Don't let the pretty clouds fool you.


We can't deny the freezing temperature.

Neither can this guy.

Auf wiedersehen,
j

A Tribute.

A few days ago Sequoia and I traveled to Dachau, about ten miles outside of Munich in Germany. [The following are excerpts from Wikipedia] Now a popular residential area for people working in Munich, the town is home to the site of what was the first Nazi concentration camp opened in Germany. Located on the grounds of an abandoned munitions factory, Dachau was opened on March 22nd, 1933. Dachau served as a prototype and model for the other Nazi concentration camps that followed. Almost every community in Germany had members taken away to these camps. The camp was in use from 1933 to 1960, for twelve years.

For me, this visit was one of my first and surely the most prominent example of history coming to life. The explanation of those horrible events comprising what we now know as the Holocaust was always that part of history class that gave me chills but was just inconceivable enough to seem like nothing more than a riveting movie plot. Having had the opportunity to visit an actual concentration camp that was involved in the tragedy has offered me some invaluable insight. Unquestionably, heavy feelings are provoked from merely being in the presence of history so taut with gloom. Mostly I have realized, being no less grateful for having had the experience, that I am small compared to this event. My wordy descriptions are only diminutive, petty attempts at justifying what is far beyond my naive grasp. I am humbled by the experience and offer only this small picture montage to mark my respect.



At each tree, there was once a barrack containing beds, toilets, cabinets for clothings, etc. Each concrete foundation marks the previous spot of one of these barracks.


The bunk beds that prisoners slept in. Some had dividers, some were more trough-like similar to this one. The camp was originally meant for 6,000 inhabitants and by the end contained 36,000.






"Work will make you free."



Gas chamber disguised as showers.

The Reptilian Era

Germany has welcomed me with open arms, as if to say let me lead you into a world of hidden lessons. It has been a bit of a trip (pun intended) to be somewhere that is so similar to the culture I am used to yet so different. You expect things to be the same, for people to understand you when you speak. It does not get any easier each time you have no choice but to shake your head and shrug your brows hoping that will convey your lack of proficiency in the German language. Usually, it just comes off rudely as I'm sorry your cat died, or you're batshit crazy. Some are irritated, others are compassionate. While we were walking yesterday, a woman stopped in her car to ask if we had been looking for the entrance to some special garden. Both in awe at her unrequested hospitality, my sister and I thanked her graciously and silently agreed not to announce that we had really been more curious about the run down building with the fire escape. Sequoia claims it to be the only building she has come across in the country that has a fire-escape; I was previously ignorant to her keen eye for spotting safety equipment. Regrettably, the mystery of the potential old paint brush factory was left unsolved. However, our bummed-out-ed-ness was quickly reversed upon the sighting of a fascinatingly shingled house. Unlike your average abode, this one was adorned with square stone shingles that had been plastered not to the roof of the house, but to the side of the house. It ended up producing a silvery scaled look which I suppose marks the beginning of the reptilian era of architecture. You heard it here first, folks.

Further on down the road we stumbled upon a graveyard which, after its initial creepiness wore off, was actually rather captivating. It is always the times you don't have your camera that you end up needing it most, ey? The gated space was cholk-full of large stone coffins decorated with names and dates, some so old that they had begun sinking into the soft, wet ground. The most interesting part was the density and assortment of flora that was strewn across the coffins. Each stone had at least one large pot of dry looking flowering plants in what I can only describe as a morbid color scheme. Mauve, lavender, and sage colored plants stole our vision. We wondered if there were guidelines for the type of plants one could bring to the graveyard and supposed that the only way for that quantity to be maintained would be by means of a tender of some sort.

After leaving the graveyard, we discussed my art school application project about objects in everyday life that we tend to overlook. Moss was one we came up with. Pigeons were another.

I guess the hardest part about figuring out things we overlook, is that they are so easy to overlook.

Nighttime is when homesickness is at its most vivid. I subsist by reminding myself of the characteristics that flow throughout all earthly locales:

shadows


sunsets


& art


Tomorrow we are off to Munich and after that, Dublin!

Stay classy, San Diego.


j

Willkommen in Deutschland

Conveniently, this epic view from above the clouds was the only thing that could have made me completely lose sight of the fact that I was on a stuffy airplane, squished between a row of seats, two walls, and snoring foreigners. Arriving in Germany took nothing more than a plane from San Francisco to Philadelphia, from Philadelphia to Brussels, from Brussels to Munich, getting on a "BART"-esque train to somewhere else in Germany where we hopped a train to Nürnberg. Then there was a walk with my two very large, over-stuffed bags on a completely cobblestone path, half uphill, just to arrive at the bottom of ten flights of stairs. Sitting quaintly at the top of these stairs was my sister's apartment which was the first thing that made my long journey seem worthwhile.

It is a small, lovely apartment adorned appropriately with a combination of handed-down furniture and Ikea accessories. It is on the top floor and on a corner making it a convenient location to survey the scenery from any room in the apartment. I nestled in and quickly claimed my space with the help of my large suitcase as it began to spew its contents into every corner of their living room/ work space. I have chosen to snub my sister and Aaron's pestering and stick with good-ol'-dad-words, it was a lesson you needed to learn on your own.

I will now mention a few interesting/funny/strange things I have seen since being in Germany, in list form as to be thorough and concise. I apologize if any of my remarks are crass; without much room for detail, I am simply making generalizations and superficial observations.

1. Europeans love cars. Both European airports that I visited in Germany and Belgium had a large array of graphic automobile advertisements in addition to fancy, nice, new cars on display in most areas of space that would allow for them.

2. Germans love red roofs.


3. Culture cross-breeding often is quite hilarious.

(This was an ad in the window of the store. The other end of the window said, "Stupid is Spreading.")

4. German toilets are different.

5. You have to pay for grocery bags (which I like) and you also have to promptly bag all your own groceries (which I also like).

6. Germans are very polite.

7. They have fantastic architecture (I hear that most of Europe does, but this is the first place I have visited thus far so that is what I am going on).

The St. Sebaldus Church in Nürnberg (not the building pictured) was destroyed in World War II and was rebuilt to look almost exactly the same and with use of many of the same materials. Sequoia told me that you rarely see dilapidated buildings because when/if one reaches that state, they tear it down and build something else in its place.

8. Most Germans speak English (especially the younger ones) and if asked, will claim they know very little when really, they are actually quite proficient.

9. What I can remember of the "American" aisle of one of the grocery stores contained cheese dip, marshmallows, poptarts, BBQ sauce, and yellow mustard.


I have found that coming to a foreign country for the first time is difficult, especially when you are alone. Granted, I have my sister and Aaron which has been a huge help and comfort but my trip is self-motivated and I will be doing most of the travelling on my own. My brain has been on overdrive observing and analyzing all there is to observe and analyze even while doing simple tasks like walking down the street. When you are submersed in a foreign language your brain subconsciously recognizes word similarities and common phrases while consciously reading facial expressions and body language. You are constantly considering differences in social customs and observing differences in dress and behavior all while being surrounded by massive, intricate architecture. I find my ears have tuned themselves to English making it surprising and exciting every time I hear a conversation in a familiar tone. In stores, my instinct is to make conversation or ask for help, both of which end up feeling like daunting tasks. Travelling to a different country is giving me a refreshed yet dreary outlook on the treatment of foreigners in the United States and what I would imagine to be many other countries as well. We easily lose sight of the fact that language is simply an artsy form of communication and should not, in my opinion, be used as a means for oppression. I would guess that foreigners would be far more willing to learn and adapt to a new language if they felt welcomed, accepted, and aided in such a task. Nevertheless, I understand the obstacle that lies in a communication gap and see how it inevitably creates separation.

On a lighter note, being in Germany has reminded me of why it is I love sociology and the great human diversity (a term I have coined to explain the phenomenon that is, the intrinsic quality of humanity characterized by vast diversity on many, many levels and in many, many areas. The great human diversity, as I have defined it, accepts these differences as fixed and strives to take that into account whilst realizing that diversity is ultimately what makes us similar.) Which is, because each culture and/or group of people operates meticulously and ends up functioning and making sense in the end. Also, no matter how different we seem at times, we all have basic human likenesses. I am humbled by the idea that it all works out so perfectly. Even though I agree realistically that our planet is in turmoil, the "libra" in me says that with bad comes good (and vice versa); and that makes it hard for me to focus on the mayhem without also keeping my eyes open and focused on the miracles in life. I had a sensational day today where I contemplated our many wondrous sense receptors and thanked them for allowing me to hear guitar, taste salt, feel wind, see and comprehend color, and even to feel fear due to peering over this very tall, rickety, wooden, spiral staircase in the tower of a castle.


Stay tuned for further adventure updates.

j