My lovely friend Carole emailed me last week asking if I was interested in a student trip to Munich... What kind of question is that?! Of course I am! The group organizing the trip is in charge of student life of one of the schools within my school. I said to myself, is there a better way to meet new people AND experience a new city AND accomplish a goal of visiting a concentration camp other than this? Nope! I signed up, paid my deposit, and eagerly awaited the date of departure.
The students planning the trip organized pre-drinks at their apartment, followed by an 11pm departure time by bus. The idea: have a few drinks, enjoy a nice long bus ride (8 hours), and arrive in Munich by morning. Wednesday evening at around 9 pm, Carole and I headed over to the apartment of one of the students in charge where we met all the other people with whom we were to be going to Munich with. It was an interesting situation, walking into an apartment with room full of people that you don't know, but would soon know quite well. We put our bags down in a bedroom, and braved into the crowd. We successfully socialized for a while, and soon it was time for us to board the bus. As soon as everyone was aboard, we were given cocktails, a theme which seemed to set the tone of the weekend. It was interesting being on a bus with kids my own age and no adult supervisor other than the driver who was there only to drive. It felt like being on a field trip without the teacher. The experience was liberating. We sipped our drinks, danced in the aisles, and got to know one another. By the wee hours of the morn, our bodies had contorted to fit the width of the bus seats as we slept in the most comfortable positions we could think of. The bus was chilled with the frozen air of dawn, and I shivered, awake in my seat, thinking about the adventures that were to be had. The sun slowly crept above the hilly landscape as we drove across the countryside just outside of Munich.
We arrived at the hostel at 9 am. Most of us climbed off the bus disoriented with fatigue, a few fumbling drunkenly down the stairs. Unfortunately the hostel was not ready for us, and we chose to wait for an hour while they cleaned. I found a spot on the floor and tried to re-energize myself for the day to come. After a while, we were finally given the keys to our rooms. Carole and I buddied up with two girls, and together we headed to our suite. The corridor of the hostel smelled like beer, with a faint twinge of vomit. The walls were decorated with graffiti and spray-paint swirls in tones of orange and blue. We found our room, 18, and entered our new lair. There was 3 sets of metal framed bunk beds, with crisp, starchy linens folded neatly upon foam mattresses. We claimed our respective territories, made our beds, and collapsed, rotating taking turns showering. Refreshed and partially rested, we met back with the rest of the group in the main lobby. Once gathered, we set by foot towards downtown Munich. Carole and I found great pleasure in attempting to read the street sides and store names, all of which obviously were in German, a language that neither of us speak. Walking along, I noticed how different the architecture was to that of France- large, boxy, and intimidating. I like it! We followed the route of the tram, eventually reaching Marienplatz, the most popular part of the city that boasts an impressive, cathedral-like city hall. It actually reminded me a bit of downtown Prague. It was there that the group split- half wanting to eat lunch at Burger King, half downright refusing the idea. There is no Burger King in France, so I can sort of understand the desire of many to eat there. That having been said... ew. Clearly I headed away from the Whopper in search of something a bit more appetizing. We ended up at a cafe directly in front of the city hall, where I ordered an amazing omelet made with morsels of fresh pumpkin and veggies, and sat warmly in a wicker chair as I covered my legs with a fleece blanket that they provided. We ate, filling our stomachs with warm happiness.
After lunch, both parties of the group, the Burger Kings and the rest of us, met and headed off to the BMW museum. We ended up in one of the buildings of the museum that is used mostly for functions and presentation, not the museum itself. We spent a decent amount of time there. I guess I could say it was cool, but I realized that cars just aren't really my thing, as shiny and expensive as they are. We didn't even go into the real museum. Instead, we exited the building and walked through a park, leading us to the Olympic Park from the 70s. I was truly impressed by the Olympic compound. We didn't stay there long, as there wasn't much we could actually besides walk around. By that point, the sun was setting and it was quite chilly. We took some pictures, peeked into a few buildings, and called it a day. Noteworthy point: I saw a bobsled! I'm not exactly sure what was going on, but all of a sudden I saw a crew of 5 people pushing a bobsled (on a dolly) across the road. Très cool. We headed back towards the metro and back into the city. We headed back to the hostel to get changed for dinner and a night out. Showered, dressed, and made-up, we headed back to Marienplatz in search of a beer-garden. Never in my life have I been in such an establishment. We walked in to a building that fits hundreds of hundreds of people. Massive painted ceilings, waitstaff in lederhosen and traditional garb carrying glass liter steins of beer, restaurant go-ers in funny hats and traditional garb, a live "oomp-pa-pa" band (as I call it... tubas, accordions, harps, yodelers), the works. The place was beyond packed as people combined up and down the aisles for a free spot at one of the hundreds of giant, wooden picnic tables. Carole and I ordered a liter of beer each, and decided to split a main-course. We had a delicious roasted half-chicken and potatoes, while others chomped on various types of sausage. I'm sorry, but I really don't get all the hype about sausages. They're really bad for you and they don't look appetizing at all. I'm just saying. We drank and ate, and then drank some more. At around 10:30 or 11 we finished dinner, and moved on to a cocktail bar that offers a liter for 6 euro. Having just drank a liter of beer, I was a bit full. I waited for a while, and then ordered a small margarita. Note to self- ritas in Germany aren't the best. We all hung out for a while, chatting and singing along to music. Slowly, the group became smaller and smaller as people began to head back to the hostel. Carole and a few guys were far from tired, and they were off in search of a nightclub. I never separate from a friend if we go out together, so along I went. We ended up at what looked like an industrial complex, but was in fact a complex called KultFabric of 6 different clubs. It was a pretty dead night, but we had a great time nonetheless.
The next morning, I woke up feeling awful. Sure, sure you think that I had had too much to drink. Alas, this was not the case. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think I ate something that didn't agree with me. I had such a stomach ache that day, and felt somewhat sick for the rest of the trip. Finally able to crawl out of bed at around lunch time, we headed to the Pinakoteka, a very famous art museum in Munich. The Pinakoteka is actually 3 different museums, with amazing collections of ancient, classic, and modern art. Having lived in Paris for 6 months, I've become quite spoiled in terms of art museums. I wanted to see something new and refreshing, not just portraits of dead, rich people. And so it was that Carole and I went to see some modern art. I am so glad we did! The collection of art amassed in the museum was unbelievable. There was sculpture, art deco, cubist paintings, movies, everything. I managed to make this cultural outing into an amazing photography session. We spent a solid 3 hours there. After finishing our tour with some Picasso, we were both just absolutely drained. We met up with the group of us that had gone to the museums, and went back to the hostel to rest for a little. I was still feeling quite queezy, so it was great to lie down for a bit. It was finally time to go for dinner. The options were the same beergarden, or sushi. I figured that some miso soup and plain white rice would be easier on my stomach, so sushi it was. It was an interesting experience communicating with our Vietnamese waitstaff in German and English, both of which didn't seem to work out. Somehow, everyone got what they ordered, and we had us some deeelish Japanese food. The soup was absolutely fantastic. Afterwards, we headed back to the same cocktail bar as before. I wasn't too keen on the idea, because I think that it's better to try something new. Feeling like crap and clearly not drinking, I wasn't one to oppose. The bar seemed to have transformed from the night prior. Apparently, Friday nights are THE night to go out. The bar was PACKED. Everyone ordered their cocktails, and I opted for a Coke (remembering that Coke helps with stomach aches). I think they gave me Pepsi instead, because after about 20 minutes I started to feel very, very sick. I told Carole that I was going to head back, and she volunteered to come with me. We both agreed that we would need all of our energy for tomorrow. We got back to the hostel by midnight, climbed into our foam bunkbeds, and fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning I woke up feeling loads better. I took a nice hot shower, packed up my bags, and headed down for breakfast. I feasted upon a doughy roll, the first solid food I'd had in quite some time. After, I collected my bag and put it in the undercarriage of the bus. We waited for everyone to make their way outside. From the looks of it, the majority of people seemed to have had a great rest of the night. Once together, we set out to find the train to bring us to the Dachau concentration camp. I am going to write about my experience at the camp in a different post because it does not seem fitting here.
After Dachau, we had an hour or two to explore Munich as we wanted to. We then headed back to the bus, and started the 8 hour journey back to Reims. The trip was a really strange, but great adventure. I met new people, made new friends, and experienced a different city. Overall, I really liked Munich. I'd highly recommend it, and would love to go back- but I couldn't live there. It's just not quite my style.
Tschüs!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Living in France.. again
Welcome back to an exciting new year of blogging! Yes, ladies and gents, I have continued my noble quest to speak French and live abroad. I landed about a month ago-- clearly it has taken a bit of time to get settled and simmer down. Now, let's try for a quick recap of the past four weeks!
I landed in Charles de Gaulle airport, maneuvered my way to the train station where I was to board a direct train to Reims, saving me time and agonizing frustration by avoiding having to enter Paris. I then receive a phone call from my roommate, Victoria, who is from Spain. She lets me know that there has been a change of plans-- she was supposed to have arrived before me, bringing with her the keys to our apartment. Due to medical reasons she needed to staying at home for a week... in Madrid. So, I landed and had no keys to my apartment. She arranged plans for me to stay with a friend of ours from school, Sebastien, until she arrived. I dragged my stuff to the platform where the train was supposed to be, only to be evacuated 2 minutes later because of a bomb-threat. Nice. I eventually got on a train, and headed back to my (cough.. cough) city of Reims. The next day, I was headed back to Paris to pick up my visa. Having mastered the Reims-Paris trip a while ago, having an excellent knowledge of the metro, and having gone to the immigration building countless times, the trip was easy. Picking up my visa was beyond simple, the process taking no more than 10 minutes. I had a lovely lunch date with my friend Pia, and then headed back to Reims, leaving my beloved Paris behind. The next day, I went to the Reims immigration building to change my address, finding out that it's impossible to just update an address because I moved from Paris to Reims, and thus to a different department of France... so I would need to reapply and do the entire visa renewal process over again. I don't even know why I was surprised to hear this for after all, this is France we're talking about, a country known for democracy and Napoleon... not efficiency or logic. Perhaps the next day, Victoria arrived to Reims, yet as our apartment was completely unfurnished (not even a refrigerator) we decided to stay at Sebas' place until things got settled. We ended up living there for another week, and finally moved into our new place. Interesting sidenote-- the real estate agency only had one set of keys for us. We had to make our own copies, even though there are three people signed on the lease. Idiots.
Quick, fun stories:
1. Having rented furnished apartments all of last year, I had to buy lots of furniture. I ended up going to Ikea with Victoria, Michael and his roommate. Long story short, we got a bit lost, ended up quite far away from Ikea, and caught in a downpour. We ended up hitch-hiking to Ikea with a lovely French couple who graciously made two separate trips as we couldn't all fit in their car. We spent hours there, and found most everything we needed. We purchased our things, and made our way to the counter to rent a van. It turns out that van rentals needed to be done earlier in the day, as the vans must be returned to Ikea before a certain time. Naturally, we wouldn't be able to make it. So, we then decide that we must get our things delivered by Ikea. Funny thing- Ikea delivery only will ship things in boxes. Therefor, anything wrapped in plastic (including tables) is classified as "undeliverable." Essentially, we could only have a few things delivered, leaving us with carriages upon carriages of utensils, chairs, bedding, the works. We scrambled to call everyone we knew that might have a car. A few amazing friends dropped what they were doing, drove out to Ikea, packed their cars with our stuff, and drove back into town. Witnessing this fiasco must've been hilarious. I think the entire Ikea ordeal gave me a few gray hairs, and a deep hatred for Swedish furniture. A few days later, I haven't even opened the box of my 39 euro wood bed when I learned that 4 of my friends who had bought the same model ended up on the floor because the bed broke and collapsed. Great. I managed to plan a return trip to Ikea with my friend who has a car. We arrived before the store opened, walked a few laps around the parking lot, and eventually returned my bed-frame. When asked by the cashier the reason why I wanted to return the bed-frame, I answered quite simply "Because it's cheap and worthless." She must hear this response quite often because she didn't even question it.
2. I successfully finished my 20 page paper about my internship! What a nightmare! I'm really proud of myself though.
3. The strikes-- hate em! Hate hate hate em. France, I love you dearly, but this striking nonsense has to end. You look foolish, and everything is inefficient. To the idiot highschool students that were striking for over a week about the retirement age being bumped up from 60 years old to 62: you're stupid. Instead of missing tons of classes, why not study a bit harder, do better on your exams, get into a great school, get a great job that pays well and set your own retirement age! Please explain to me how throwing road barriers in the middle of the street, tipping garbage cans, and walking in front of city buses and thus blocking traffic in ANY WAY helps your cause? In fact, doing these juvenile things and harassing people detracts from the seriousness of the issue. Stop worrying about your retirement when you don't even know how to behave like an adult. And come on, 62?? It's not like the government is making you work until you die. 62 is a very young age for retirement. Stop being brats. And as for the transportation strikes, don't even get me started... I'm just saying, if the workers want more benefits and money, maybe the solution is to NOT increase losses by preventing willing passengers from buying tickets. Transportation strikes not only annoy me because they prevent me from going to where I want to go, but also because the companies/government lose SO much money. Inefficient and stupid to the max!
4. Remember that visa that I absolutely had to change my address within 8 days? Remember the urgency of this process, and how I had to renew the entire visa because French bureaucracy is stupid? Well, it's been over a month and they still haven't mailed me the receipt to pick up my new one.
5. Guess who's going to Morocco in December?!?! Mwahaha
So, I'll try to keep up with my blogging. School is pretty intense, and I find myself either not having enough time to blog, or being so tired that all I want to do is lay in bed and not think about anything.
It's exciting being back in France. As small of a town as Reims is, I find myself easily being able to have fun. It's definitely nowhere near as incredible as Paris, but it's not as bad as I remember it.
Continue reading-- I promise there will be more to come!
I landed in Charles de Gaulle airport, maneuvered my way to the train station where I was to board a direct train to Reims, saving me time and agonizing frustration by avoiding having to enter Paris. I then receive a phone call from my roommate, Victoria, who is from Spain. She lets me know that there has been a change of plans-- she was supposed to have arrived before me, bringing with her the keys to our apartment. Due to medical reasons she needed to staying at home for a week... in Madrid. So, I landed and had no keys to my apartment. She arranged plans for me to stay with a friend of ours from school, Sebastien, until she arrived. I dragged my stuff to the platform where the train was supposed to be, only to be evacuated 2 minutes later because of a bomb-threat. Nice. I eventually got on a train, and headed back to my (cough.. cough) city of Reims. The next day, I was headed back to Paris to pick up my visa. Having mastered the Reims-Paris trip a while ago, having an excellent knowledge of the metro, and having gone to the immigration building countless times, the trip was easy. Picking up my visa was beyond simple, the process taking no more than 10 minutes. I had a lovely lunch date with my friend Pia, and then headed back to Reims, leaving my beloved Paris behind. The next day, I went to the Reims immigration building to change my address, finding out that it's impossible to just update an address because I moved from Paris to Reims, and thus to a different department of France... so I would need to reapply and do the entire visa renewal process over again. I don't even know why I was surprised to hear this for after all, this is France we're talking about, a country known for democracy and Napoleon... not efficiency or logic. Perhaps the next day, Victoria arrived to Reims, yet as our apartment was completely unfurnished (not even a refrigerator) we decided to stay at Sebas' place until things got settled. We ended up living there for another week, and finally moved into our new place. Interesting sidenote-- the real estate agency only had one set of keys for us. We had to make our own copies, even though there are three people signed on the lease. Idiots.
Quick, fun stories:
1. Having rented furnished apartments all of last year, I had to buy lots of furniture. I ended up going to Ikea with Victoria, Michael and his roommate. Long story short, we got a bit lost, ended up quite far away from Ikea, and caught in a downpour. We ended up hitch-hiking to Ikea with a lovely French couple who graciously made two separate trips as we couldn't all fit in their car. We spent hours there, and found most everything we needed. We purchased our things, and made our way to the counter to rent a van. It turns out that van rentals needed to be done earlier in the day, as the vans must be returned to Ikea before a certain time. Naturally, we wouldn't be able to make it. So, we then decide that we must get our things delivered by Ikea. Funny thing- Ikea delivery only will ship things in boxes. Therefor, anything wrapped in plastic (including tables) is classified as "undeliverable." Essentially, we could only have a few things delivered, leaving us with carriages upon carriages of utensils, chairs, bedding, the works. We scrambled to call everyone we knew that might have a car. A few amazing friends dropped what they were doing, drove out to Ikea, packed their cars with our stuff, and drove back into town. Witnessing this fiasco must've been hilarious. I think the entire Ikea ordeal gave me a few gray hairs, and a deep hatred for Swedish furniture. A few days later, I haven't even opened the box of my 39 euro wood bed when I learned that 4 of my friends who had bought the same model ended up on the floor because the bed broke and collapsed. Great. I managed to plan a return trip to Ikea with my friend who has a car. We arrived before the store opened, walked a few laps around the parking lot, and eventually returned my bed-frame. When asked by the cashier the reason why I wanted to return the bed-frame, I answered quite simply "Because it's cheap and worthless." She must hear this response quite often because she didn't even question it.
2. I successfully finished my 20 page paper about my internship! What a nightmare! I'm really proud of myself though.
3. The strikes-- hate em! Hate hate hate em. France, I love you dearly, but this striking nonsense has to end. You look foolish, and everything is inefficient. To the idiot highschool students that were striking for over a week about the retirement age being bumped up from 60 years old to 62: you're stupid. Instead of missing tons of classes, why not study a bit harder, do better on your exams, get into a great school, get a great job that pays well and set your own retirement age! Please explain to me how throwing road barriers in the middle of the street, tipping garbage cans, and walking in front of city buses and thus blocking traffic in ANY WAY helps your cause? In fact, doing these juvenile things and harassing people detracts from the seriousness of the issue. Stop worrying about your retirement when you don't even know how to behave like an adult. And come on, 62?? It's not like the government is making you work until you die. 62 is a very young age for retirement. Stop being brats. And as for the transportation strikes, don't even get me started... I'm just saying, if the workers want more benefits and money, maybe the solution is to NOT increase losses by preventing willing passengers from buying tickets. Transportation strikes not only annoy me because they prevent me from going to where I want to go, but also because the companies/government lose SO much money. Inefficient and stupid to the max!
4. Remember that visa that I absolutely had to change my address within 8 days? Remember the urgency of this process, and how I had to renew the entire visa because French bureaucracy is stupid? Well, it's been over a month and they still haven't mailed me the receipt to pick up my new one.
5. Guess who's going to Morocco in December?!?! Mwahaha
So, I'll try to keep up with my blogging. School is pretty intense, and I find myself either not having enough time to blog, or being so tired that all I want to do is lay in bed and not think about anything.
It's exciting being back in France. As small of a town as Reims is, I find myself easily being able to have fun. It's definitely nowhere near as incredible as Paris, but it's not as bad as I remember it.
Continue reading-- I promise there will be more to come!
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