Fabulous.

Here I am in front of the East Side Gallery, a restored section of the wall with some of the most amazing street art you will ever see. This section features tons of people siphoned through a breach in the infamous wall. I thought it was a good image to start my last blog entry from this incredible trip.

I've trying to think of a word to describe my time in Europe. The girl from the Orbit commercials keeps coming to mind; you know, the one who sees something absurd (like mud wrestling or catching bugs with one's teeth) and then grins and says, "Fabulous!" while her teeth sparkle blindingly. Europe as been, in a word, fabulous. Cue teeth sparkle.

The history? Fabulous. The food? Fabulous. The wine/beer? Fabulous. The company? Extra extra extra fabulous. I have had such an amazing time while I've been here, and that is largely thanks to my awesome cousin Erika...
...and my equally awesome dear friend Allison.
Thanks to you ladies, this has been a most spectacular adventure. So, here's an imaginary internet toast to two fabulous chicks who made a fabulous trip to Europe possible. Raise your glasses, friends and family, and I will do this same. To Allison and Erika - a votre sante, prost, and cheers!

Thanks also to friends and family at home, for coming with me on this adventure! I hope you've enjoyed the blog as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I'm just going to have to keep it around for the next adventure...the suggestion box is open for my next big trip. Love to you all, and thanks for keeping things fabulous home front!

Sick Sense of Humor

One of the things I like best about Berlin is its dark sense of humor.
Souvenir gas mask or kitschy Russian hat, anyone? C'mon, Comrade. You know you want one.

Yesterday I wandered into the Berlin Altes Museum (or the museum of antiquities) and the DDR (GDR in English) museum.

Statue at the entrance to the Altes Museum

The Altes Museum was interesting; lots and LOTS of Greek/Roman/Etruscan artifacts, like statues sculpted to show every sinew and bronze helmets that turned green with age long ago. There was one exhibit called, "Love in the Ancient World." I wandered in and was swiftly reminded of how kinky the ancient Greeks really were.

And then I headed to the DDR museum. The DDR Museum exhibits all deal with life in East Germany before the end of the Cold War. DDR stands for Deutche Demokratische Republik -- or German Democratic Republic, the official name for East Germany. My favorite part of the exhibit was the chance to hang out in one of the government-issued apartments. It was a replica, of course, but they had government-controlled TV airing and the world's ugliest wallpaper.

The bathroom -- the apartment was more or less all one room. The bathroom was an open closet with a curtain for privacy.


The Kitchen -- I will never complain about my small kitchen again.

And on a much darker note, a Geiger counter. When Chernobyl happened, all of Europe went into panic mode; vegetables grown in radioactive soil were completely unavailable, prices soared because everything had to be imported to avoid radiation poisoning, etc. Well, all of Europe except the DDR -- the government said, "What meltdown?" And East Germans enjoyed lettuce and sprouts and local milk when the rest the continent couldn't. Now, all that lettuce and sprouts and milk came with a suspiciously high dose of dangerous radiation, but who's counting? Not the DDR government...

A "surveillance" kit, for government spying on citizens (sounds like that other thing... what was it called? Starts with a "p" and ends with an "atriot act?" Hmm. I'm sure I'll remember eventually...)

I found the whole place fascinating, needless to say. It had the aforementioned sick sense of humor: parts of it were darkly funny, like hanging out in the apartment (you could also sit in a government-issue car, read a government-approved fashion magazine, etc.), and parts of it (like the Geiger counter, the surveillance kit, and an interrogation room) were much more sobering.

On a lighter note, Erika and I capped off the day with some hilarious friends of hers in a beer garden. Beer gardens should be a thing everywhere, I feel. Beer! Sausage! Outdoors! Great company! What's not to love?

Today is my last full day in Berlin -- and what a time I've had. I head home early, early early tomorrow morning. The plan today is to see the wall itself. In a city so full of history, I look forward to seeing such an important piece of it. What a marvelous (and oddly funny) city this is.

Transcendence

One of the things I noticed today was how Berlin is very different from Geneva, but still as beautiful. The main difference I noticed, touring all of Berlin's famous places (The Reichstag, the Brandenburg Gate, etc.), was the general sense of melancholy remembrance that still hangs over a lot of the city. Geneva is famously a city of peace, a city of plenty; but Berlin, fabulous as it is, has a great deal of terrible history crammed into the last hundred years.

Take this sculpture, for example. It's called, "Woman holding her dead son." It sits in a dark building with a hole in the ceiling immediately above it; no glass, just an open space, leaving the titular woman and son defenseless against the elements. It serves as a memorial for those lost in war. The sculptor herself lost a son in WWI.


Or this solemn concrete labyrinth, which is the memorial to Europe's murdered Jews.


Even the magnificent Brandenburg Gate sits in the shadow of what once was the Berlin wall; the space the wall once occupied is only a few hundred feet away, in the middle of the street, with a line of bricks showing where it once was. In the courtyard of nearby Humboldt University, a glass window sits in the ground to let people view an underground room of empty bookshelves. The Nazis staged an enormous book burning there.

Berlin Cathedral

I don't mean to say that Berlin is solemn or sad or depressing. On the contrary, men dressed as Yoda, Darth Vader and an Indian Chief were inexplicably posing with tourists in front of the Brandenburg Gate today, and you can buy pieces of the wall at just about any souvenir shop in the city; the place definitely has a sense of humor. What I do mean to say is that Berlin has scars. Maybe Geneva has scars, too, most places do. But Berlin's scars are still new enough to see clearly. And Berlin wears them well, with the right mix of reverence and transcendence.

The Reichstag Building

There's a part in the book Eat, Pray, Love where the author and friends try to find a single word to describe the cities they come from. The New Yorker claims that New York's word is achieve; a woman from Oslo claims that Oslo's word is conform. Having toured Berlin, I would guess that Berlin's word is transcend. Berlin survived, Berlin moved forward, Berlin transcends.

Mazel Tov! It's Berlin!

Today I went to the Berlin Jewish Museum. Now, it doesn't take Einstein to figure what a great many exhibits in this museum focus on; it's a museum about Judaism in Germany. Don't think too hard.

But, all joking aside, it's an INCREDIBLE facility. The museum actually covers Jewish history in Germany dating as far back as the 1000's. Oh, and the architecture is brilliant. The front facade of the building looks like this:
Like I said, that's just the front facade. The rest of the building is this labyrinth of odd angles and corners in clean chrome and blank white-washed concrete. The architect who designed it ensured that there were "voids" in random places; the idea is for the museum's visitors to experience a sense of loss in these empty places, even though they are otherwise surrounded by Jewish history.
This is called the Holocaust Tower. It's a dark, almost triangular room with very high walls; the only light in the room is a small crack in the ceiling. The architect designed this strange space to be open to interpretation -- I thought it was a pretty bleak space with a tiny (almost nonexistent) ray of hope shining through the ceiling.
This has thousands of metal faces to pay homage to the victims of war and injustice. I can't remember the artist's name, but the exhibit was pretty awesome.


This was the Garden of Exile. The idea was to create the feeling of being disoriented, even sick to your stomach; the whole garden had huge pillars of stone/concrete at weird angles (but all very uniform), with a sloped floor. It was like an optical illusion; you always felt you were walking at an extreme angle. The disorientation is a literal way of relating to Jews who were exiled from their home countries during various pogroms, and even during the Holocaust.


This is a sheet of stars that would've been distributed in various Jewish communities during the National Socialist regime.

These are graves of Jewish WWI soldiers. When Hitler came to power, all of the grave markers of WWI Jewish war heroes were taken down and replaced with new ones that all read, "Unknown German Soldier." It wasn't until after the war that families tried to reclaim their loved ones' grave sites.
This was from the "wishing tree" in the older part of the exhibit. Many scholars believe that Eve didn't tempt Adam with an apple at all; they believe she tempted him with a pomegranate. So, the idea behind this tree was to write a wish down on a paper pomegranate and hang it on the tree. Sorry if the text isn't visible here, but this one said, "I wish my daughter will never need a wheelchair again, and my son will find peace." It almost brought me to tears. And yes, I wrote down a wish and put it on the tree, but if I told you, I'd have to kill you.


This is a huppah that I thought was particularly beautiful. Jewish wedding ceremonies take place under one such tent.


...and this random thingy was in front of the Berlin Museum of Modern Art, which I also visited today. I'm not sure if it was some kind of art piece, but a bunch of kids were climbing on/bouncing off of it. Looked like fun. And it was purple. So of course, I had to take a picture.

And on the fifth day...

...we rested, 'cause we were tired. Don't have too many interesting stories for today -- Allison and I slept until 11, chilled out in St. Genis (the village in France where she lives), ate goat cheese and baguette, drank wine, and watched Inglourious Basterds. No bird attacks, I'm happy to report. So, since I don't have much to report, here's some pictures from our previous adventures through Switzerland to tide you over until I head to Berlin tomorrow. Bon apetit!

a fountain in the Bern rose garden

a statue in the Bern rose garden


a ROSE in the Bern rose garden -- imagine!

Terraced vineyards in the countryside between Lausanne and Montreux -- these have been around for around 1000 years. To quote the immortal wisdom of Keanu Reeves: "Whoa."

A beautiful view of the streets of Lausanne


"The Broken Chair" -- This three-legged chair statue sits in the square in front of the UN. It was commissioned in honor/memory of land-mine victims (Allison and I assumed the missing chair-leg symbolizes missing limbs).

The UN building itself, with a walkway of the world's flags.

Tomorrow, dear friends and family, I depart France/Switzerland for Germany. Aurevoir, Geneve! Guten Tag, Berlin!

Anti-American Angry Birds

Today was the fourth of July, which apparently meant that all Genevois birds with anti-American sentiment had to lash out against Americans on train platforms. This morning, waiting for the train to Bern, Allison and I decided to share a pain au chocolat (more or less a chocolate croissant). The birds in Switzerland are all half-tame. Now, I use the word tame loosely, as they have a tendency to beg. They just about swarm when they see someone eating. Occasionally, they even fly up into your face, but harmlessly so. Well, the 4th of July seemed like the day to lash out, it seems, because a bird bit my finger trying to get at my precious pain au chocolat. I repeat: a BIRD BIT ME. Not a big bird, oh no; not a crow or a swan or a pigeon. This was a chickadee (a very fat chickadee) the size of a Cadbury creme egg.

But anyway, Bern was gorgeous. We toured Albert Einstein's apartment (he moved to Switzerland when he decided that Germany's government was too militaristic -- and that was BEFORE the Nazis). You can't see it in the photo, but his view of the Bern streets was fabulous.

Bern also has this famous clock. Every hour on the hour, some animatronic characters come out and do... well... something. Best we could tell, it was different every hour. I just saw the little golden bird flap its wings, and after the incident on the platform this morning I was feeling decidedly anti-bird.

And then there was this incredible view of the Alps, behind some kind of fairy tale building (turns out it was the Bern historical museum).

We visited another cathedral today, this beautiful place (I figured it was time for an interior view of these amazing centuries-old buildings -- to give you an idea of how huge it is, the tiny green dot at the bottom is a person at the far end of the cathedral).

We had dinner at another outdoor cafe, where the waiter spoke no English but some Spanish (Mrs. Beamguard, if you're out there, I just want you to know that Spanish came in handy in Switzerland, of all places) and I had yet more delicious Swiss fondue. We took a lap around Lac Leman to get a closer view of the Jet d'Eau. I leave you now with the Jet d'Eau against the sunset -- short and sweet blog today, because I'm le tired.

Watch Out, Kyoto: J'adore Geneve!

Geneva is quickly gaining on Kyoto as the prettiest big city I have ever seen. Don't worry, Kyoto, you haven't been unseated yet, but just to keep you on your toes, Geneva gets a little closer the more I see of it.

A street in Geneva

You know how only the downtown parts of cities are pretty in the US? I wouldn't give you two cents for most of Charlotte -- but downtown is fantastic. Greensboro, as much as I love it, is much the same way. It kind of goes like this: chain restaurant row, junky neighborhood, everything-looks-the-same suburbia, THE FABULOSITY THAT IS ELM STREET (Natty's! Just Be! The Green Bean! Fincastle's!), junky neighborhood, chain restaurant row, etc. All of the cool stuff is downtown. But my point is this: all of Geneva is like downtown (insert North Carolina city here). All of the buildings are old and beautiful, there are flower boxes blooming out of every apartment window, there are street cafes everywhere with cheerful umbrellas and people laughing and chatting over a glass of wine or a cafe au lait -- no matter how many turns you take in Geneva, you're still in a pretty part of town. Even the "sketchy" part is pretty. I put "sketchy" in quotes because Allison tells me there is practically no violent crime in Geneva; just about the only crime one need look out for is pickpocketing.

We also went to the UN today. You can't just stroll in, obviously, but we did see some interesting things, including this nifty sign (with which I posed)....

...And these protesters, who were a bit startling to see. They are in the midst of a 72-hour sit-in to get the UN's attention focused on a city called Camp Ashraf, a refugee camp in Iraq near the Iran border. They had pictures of people murdered by the Iraqi police on the posters they were carrying. You can read up on the sad stuff happening in Ashraf here.


We also visited the Cathedral of St. Pierre in "old town" Geneva. Check it:
The inside is even more beautiful. The style is described as "flamboyant Gothic," because everything inside has tons of bright colors and loud patterns on the windows, the tapestries, the ceilings, etc. While we were there, we figured we'd make the trek up the north tower to get an aerial view of Geneva, including a fabulous view of Lac Leman and the famous Jet D'Eau, a jet of water shot into the sky that is taller than most buildings in the city.Lunch was crepes in one of the aforementioned outdoor cafes, and we also checked out the Museum Ariana, which exhibits porcelain and sculpture. Yet another gorgeous building. Here's two awesome chicks posing in front of it:

And here's the building without the glare of our fabulousness distracting you from the view:
Tomorrow, mon amis, we go to Bern, land of bears, clocks and Albert Einstein. Better start brushing up on my German. Aurevoir/Auf widersein until tomorrow!