Attack of the White Legs

It's spring. Temperatures are escalating, desserts are getting colder; days are getting longer, and pants are getting shorter. That's right. The Europeans have pulled their shorts out of the space bags from the long winter's hibernation. The result? Blindness.

I've always had the impression that Europe was the land of pants. We all remember those pictures from 19th-century in which people brave the hot summers in wool pants and overcoat (complete with a pocket watch on a chain.) They're usually sitting on a sunny beach surrounded by flowers and green-green grass. Somehow women thought that translucent bonnet was going to somehow keep them cool.

Well, I was wrong. Skinny, pale legs with multi-colored stockings crumpled around the ankle. It's slightly disgusting.

I don't feel bad about being pale anymore. I at least have a little bit of a tan.

Vergangenheitsbewusstsein

Whoa. Big German word. I need to catch my breath. *pause*

Ok. Rested. Let us dissect. "Vergangheit"= the condition of being in the past. "bewusstsein" = consciousness. So you guessed it. I'm going to mutter about Historical Consciousness for you.

We Americans have the privilege/disadvantage of being one of the newest nations in the world. Several countries have sprouted up in the past 250 years, but, according to big-headed academics, the respective nation has always existed; the political borders are just beginning to coincide with those of nations (think about that mess in the former Bosnia/Herzegovina from the '90s.) Granted, this supposition brings up many questions which these same big-headed academics will debate until times' end, such as "what makes you say that the US has a single national identity if it's made up of such a variety of ethnic, religious, and social groups?" but I'll leave that to those big-headed peeps in the Ivory Tower, or at the very least save it for another blog. Maybe.

So, the USA and it's new-ness. Our dear forefathers took the liberty of squashing, the indigenous lifestyles of the "native Americans" and spreading this "foreign American" culture (read: various European cultures) from sea to shining sea. These patriots became so concerned with their civilized lifestyle that the world was basically made anew. Therefore, for us, "old" is something from colonial times, roughly mid 17th century, but anything built "pre-war" is old enough for us.

So, Europe and it's old-ness. It's the "old country" from which our ancestors were expelled for whatever reasons. Old for Europeans is stuff from the Middle Ages (or, for the Mediterranean, even earlier.)

So, our consciousness. The old houses, churches, etc. in the USA are now national parks. People drive hours to a parking lot and walk a seemingly endless trail to this destination, take pictures, marvel at its preserved state and gawk. This is fine and dandy. I'm all for preservation. But now that I have history living in my front yard, It's pretty interesting to see how the old world sees its history.

Standing above the city is a fortress from the 14th century. It was the reason the city existed. The prince-bishop resided there, the town existed to serve the prince-bishop through the feudal system of allegiance.

A bit further down the road sits the ornate baroque palace to which the prince-bishop moved during the 19th century. Würzburgers interact almost daily with this behemoth from their commute ("Dangit, why didn't they make this opening wider! I don't want to wait for the stupid bus to go through first!") to their parking place ("Oh look! The Residenz has 40 parking places open!") to their party-grounds ("Hey, honey! There's a band playing on the Residenz plaza today! Let's go!). Do you think this lends one to lose a sense of his history because he is exposed daily to its remnants? Do these remenants stay around for a significant purpose, or do we just like pretty things?

So what is history for us? Is our history that which makes us what we are? Or are we simply a people without a history, the perpetual wanderers in this modern world? Or are we a people of a shared history that simply takes place somewhere else? Do we really find pride in the defeat of the Swedes in Franconia during the 15th century, or do we instead pride ourselves in our unity and diversity today?

Wir danken Sie für Ihre Geduld.

Please, take a number. You see that line that stretches beyond the horizon? You need to stand in it. Welcome to waiting in Germany. We hope that your wait is pleasant. We hope that our abundance of instructions and lack of useful information is as convenient as possible. Did you make sure to bring your Student ID, Proof of Enrollment, German ID number, your passport, and a photo? We will now serve number 43.

Your number is 87.

I know I complain all of the time about getting lost, not having enough (useful) information made available to me, and how Germans are just not very quick to help out a floundering person, but today was about as stressful as it's been so far.

I looked in the course catalog to figure out my classes. Not only was it a maze to find the actual classes (one must click through a series of options including but not limited to "what is the main department you wish to choose," "which division do you need?," "Do you want something in the Pre- or Post-Bologna Process offerings?," "Lecture, Seminar, or Discussion Section?," and "Which topic?"), it's apparently a conundrum to discover when the classes actually begin, and apparently, where they will be held.

The semester began on April 19th. Some classes start that week, some the next, others not until June. It makes absolutely no sense. I had a class that said it would start today, but it had two different locations listed. Online listed one building and room, the .pdf version listed an entirely different building. It started at 15:00.

I had to register for my German as a Foreign Language class starting at 14:00. This is where the waiting comes in. I showed up 15 minutes early only to discover a doubled-over line extending down the hallway and into the staircase. I thought "oh, this can't possibly take too long, it's a simple act of showing my grade in the previous class and writing my name down for the next one." Apparently, this was the sequence of actions, only it moved incredibly slowly. Stultifyingly slow. I stood in line for 30 minutes, for only 10 people to be registered. I huffed and puffed, left, ran to the bus stop, waited for way too many jerks to ask the bus driver banal questions such as "do you go to the trainstation?" or "will this bus stop and poawieul;dkf street?" Jerks, I'm in a rush. Look at the map plastered on every bus stop. I digress.

I got to location option 1, the door was locked. Naturally, the first place I try is wrong, but it gets better. The other location was in the large baroque palace in the city center, luckily only about a 5-minute walk. The words "large baroque palace" should strike fear into anybody hoping to find a singular room inside. This turned out to be the case. This building is multi-purpose. It is a museum to the decadence of Franconia's past, a government building, another museum of unknown purpose, home to multiple libraries, several offices, a Herbarium (apparently) housing specimens from the large garden in the back yard, and a few lecture halls and seminar rooms. I had no idea which of the thousands of doors to enter, so I went into the main one, asked the person at the museum desk where the seminar rooms were, got lost, had to ask somebody else, finally found the room. I opened the door and absolutely nobody was there. I didn't think I could take it anymore.

I walked back to the Domerschulstrasse location (location option 1), which is where the department is located, or rather where the professors' offices are. I couldn't find a receptionist (s/he was probably behind an unmarked, closed door, as is customary in Germany), and the professor's e-mail was not listed anywhere on the University's website (that I could find.)

So I hope that the course catalog was wrong (because bureaucracy is there to ensure thoroughness, completeness, and correctness, right?) I hope that the class actually starts next week, because this is one of the few that actually sounded good and manageable.

Bah. Then I had to run back to the other campus and re-join the line for language registration. Joy.

And I just registered for classes at UT. I didn't get into one of the classes I hoped for. It just adds to the fun of registration on both sides of the Atlantic.

Water, Water Everywhere

Last week I hopped on a train towards the north - Amsterdam (in the Netherlands) and later Hamburg (in Germany.) It all started well enough: I made a list of all the stuff I would need down to the number of socks to bring (there's nothing like showing up and only having one sock for Friday.) 7:00am on Tuesday and I had checked everything off of my list. I jetted out the door to catch the bus - I was going to be at the train station early so that I could fight through the crowd on the platform to catch those few remaining seats. Halfway to the bus stop, I realized that I had forgotten my tickets. Blast it. Ran back, grabbed them, missed the bus, had to take the next one.

The train station was unbelievable. Previously, my experiences have inclined me to not waste my money on seat reservations. Before, I've paid the 2.5 Euros to have a seat with nobody in a 5 meter radius. Common sense dictates that I could have spent that money on a snack. However, on this trip I realized the validity of that rather nominal fee: I had to stand for an hour and a half. Every seat was full. The dining car was full of people standing and reading their newspaper. The areas by the on-board restrooms were full. Every corner was stuffed with somebody in a business suit and/or his briefcase. It was very uncomfortable. Once the train stopped in Frankfurt, it became more comfortable - all of those commuters from Nuremburg, Wuerzburg, and Aschaffenburg dumped out. Suddenly, there was legroom. It was glorious.

The rest of the trip was nice. I arrived in Amsterdam around 1:30pm, only to be confronted with the usual experience when I first arrive: how on earth do I get to my hostel? All of those hours studying a map proved to be worthless. The transit map was unbelievably disorganized - there was no distinction between bus and tram routes, there were 5 tram platforms and it was pure luck that I was standing at the right one - however, the tram loaded and unloaded passengers some 20 m away from the platform. Great. Missed the first one, had to stand next to the Hawaii-print american tourists for another 5 minutes. Finally hopped on the tram, sat down, and realized that I had passed my stop. I had listened diligently for my stop, only to realize that some southbound stops have different names than northbound stops. Great. Get off, turn around.

Amsterdam, despite its rather shady reputation, is a very beautiful city. The picturesque row houses filled me with elation. Much of the architecture in the city center is post-war, and by that I mean post-Thirty Years' war. The Dutch Golden Age was one of the results of the Thirty Years' war (17th century), in which the Netherlands rose as the big merchant power in Europe. An unbelievable amount of wealth flooded into this area, mostly as a result of the exotic trades between the Americas, India, and Asia. Because of this early flourishing of the bourgeoisie, literacy rates skyrocketed, education was among the best in western Europe, and the monarchy took even less eminence, a trend that would explode violently in another nation some 100 years later. Because of the Netherland's early progress out of the middle ages and the surprisingly sympathetic yielding of the aristocracy to this trend, policy in became rather tolerant. The economic prosperity of the area attracted groups of all varieties and in order to coexist peacefully, the Netherlands compartmentalized its society. This was a successful plan - each group had its own newspaper, its own city guild representatives, its own religion. It wasn't kosher to bother the other groups, because they didn't bother you. This led to a general toleration of the darker (redder? greener?) sides of Amsterdam, which need no explicit mention.

Besides getting high or contracting a venereal disease, Amsterdam had a lot to do, and it was of surprisingly good quality and value (even despite the high prices - very high prices.) The Rijks- , Rembrandt Huis- and Van Gogh museums were VERY effective - the collection was logically sequenced, the explanations were educationally valuable, in multiple languages, and accessible. The Anne Frank House was disturbing, not because of its historical significance, but because it was a tourist attraction filled with fanny-pack and sun-visor tourists with sunglasses and a big-gulp. The hordes of middle-school-aged children running amok didn't really make it any better. Nonetheless, it was a good historical grounding.

\The parks were, OMG, amazing. The flowers, even though not in full bloom, were stunning. Color everywhere. A+.

The next morning, I had another train adventure. First train was 5 minutes late, which meant that I missed my connection in Hilversum. I had the joy of sitting in a train station for 2 1/2 hours for the next one to show up. Wonderful.

Hamburg is a beautiful city, as well. It was surprisingly varied - not something one normally finds in Germany. Every building was of a different architectural motif or style. It looked almost as if I was in London again. The harbor was beautiful in all of its shipping glory.

Hamburg's history of early prosperity lends it to similar trends as Amsterdam. The city is largely independent - in fact, it, along with Berlin, is its own Bundesland (the US equivalent of a state), meaning that it has far more power and influence than Frankfurt, Munich, or Nuremburg. Hamburg is also one of the wealthiest cities in Germany (once again a result of its port), and one of the most literate. It is home to the two most widely-read news medias in Germany, Die Zeit and Der Spiegel. It has, arguably, the best ballet and opera company in Germany, as well as one of the best art collections in Germany. The Kunsthalle had a very interesting exhibition on modern art and Pop art. I think my favorite section was the Modern Japanese Art - very rarely does something considered so "low class" receive such scrutiny and intelligent discussion. Take a peek at this video. Ignore the The Vapors's lyrics (even though it might have a bit to do with the exotic way the west looks at the east...) Look instead at the clever montage of "J-ness."

Anyway. After that, I was tired and needed to catch a train. Once again, I underestimated the value of a reserved seat and had the pleasure of standing for an hour and a half until the train emptied a bit.

I don't know when my next excursion will be. I'll keep you posted.

Bis bald!

Schnell

Today I will write about everybody's German Fantasy.

The Autobahn.

We've all heard about it. We all ache for the thrill of a BMW pushing full throttle across a smooth highway. The gentle "whish" as our car whizzes past some slowpoke. Most importantly, we dream about

yes, the absence of speed limits.

In actuality, the autobahn does have speed limits. There are many areas, usually around urban centers, with speed limits, usually 100 or 140 km/h; however, these are usually only guidelines.

This seeming freedom is the result of a cultural phenomenon that Americans just don't have. Germans are good drivers.

Before you go off on a rampage saying that I'm just bashing the homeland, I beg you to sit back and think. The United States has some of the most lax regulations on cars and drivers. The legal BAC limit in Germany is .05%, compared to the US, which is .08% (that's two fewer shots of Vodka for a 180lb man in one hour, for those of you wondering.) Germany has some of the most stringent automobile inspection regulations in the western world - your car absolutely must be in tip-top-shape. If your brakes show any signs of wear, you must get them replaced. If your engine doesn't run tip-top, get a new car. If your tires don't have enough tread, you need new ones. In the USA, the inspector checks to see if your windshield wipers are functioning and if your exhaust fumes are within legal limits. Getting a driver's licence in Germany is an ordeal. You must actually go to a driving school and pass an actual driving exam. In the USA, many states simply require a written exam and that Pop sign a sheet of paper saying that he showed you the gas and brake pedal.

But dang, wouldn't all of that be worth it to go 300km/hr?

We can also talk about how German cars are among the safest automobiles in the world, but this is probably because its public demands it of the manufacturers. They want their speed, and they don't want to die when Billy-Bob (erm, Hanz-Frederik) decides to change lanes and sideswipe them at 247km/hr. It has also been discussed that the Autobahn takes safety more into account, particularly natural phenomenon. I personally have not experienced this, so I can't verify or denounce. I do, however, know that I've driven on I-40 between Amarillo and Oklahoma City. When the wind gusts, one must pray and pray very hard. Perhaps some of the tall, concrete windbreakers present on the Autobahn would be very helpful in this instance.

But of course, the largest problem is that the Autobahn was designed for different purposes than the Interstate system. Eisenhower chartered the Interstate system to serve as a quick way for the army to move between large cities (after all, it was a product of the cold war). Very little regard was given to the private sector. In fact, many interstate highways have insufficient space for the "accelleration lane," which in turn slows down traffic already on the highway. In order to preserve a bit of safety, rather modest speed limits are imposed. The interstates are the primary avenue of automobile flux in and out of major metropolitan centers, usually for local transport as opposed to long-distance travel.

In Germany, the Autobahn was designed as private and economic transportation. Of course as Germany re-militarized during the 1930s, military usage of the Autobahn rose in importance, but its purpose as interregional transportation (instead of inter-city) created a de facto hindrance to large volumes of traffic. Because access to the Autobahn is significantly more limited than access to the Interstate, it naturally leaves more space for on-ramps (which, to me, feel as if they could go on forever), thus more space for the cars to reach that 300mph cruising speed.

Now, culturally, slowpoke Grandma is advised to stay off of the autobahn. If you don't drive the advised speed, you will tick off many of the drivers. If you cruise in the left hand lane, you will be pulled over and fined in true German fashion (read: very, very high.) If you pass on the right, you will suffer the same fate. Tailgating is illegal. The Autobahn is for driving very, very fast. It's not for weenies. The Germans take pride in their strong engines, and driving "cautiously" is dangerous. One must drive with gusto and conviction. Don't you dare ride that brake. Always look in that rear view window for that car who's going faster than you, and be prepared to merge right or speed up.

The Autobahn does not go directly through any cities. It loops around them, allowing for that really high speed. Compare this to the US, where the Interstates go directly through the central business districts of the most congested cities in the USA. Taking I-35 through Dallas? Plan on driving 20mph, if you're moving at all. Once again, Inter-regional transport vs. Inter-city travel.

Naturally, post-war prosperity has constrained the Autobahn a bit. The disaster of suburbia that plagues commuters in every city in America is showing its effects in Germany. Just as in the USA, cities develop along these corridors of quick and easy travel (take a look at Austin, the city that grows lengthwise along I-35 and US-183 instead of concentric circles, and then compare to Frankfurt, which is starting to grow in a very similar pattern). This has led the Autobahn to adopt adjustable speed limits for that morning and evening rush hour.

When there are too many cars, they flash these signs. When there aren't too many cars, they up the limit or remove it altogether. So will Germany's development smother its most famous civil engineering project? Who knows. In the meantime, I will continue to be envious of those BMWs and Mercedes-Benz cars that whiz past that slowpoke city bus that takes me to IKEA.

Eastern Europe Wrap-Up

So alot has happened since I last updated. I saw some more ridiculously absurd palaces with decadence beyond our feeble republic-minded conceptions, became a tourist in the Vienna State Opera House (my vain attempts at acquiring tickets drove me to join the fanny-pack-clad Asian tourists,) and afterward spent a few hours walking through one of the best exhibitions of German Art that I've seen yet. Later, I crossed the border from Austria into the Czech Republic! After a 5-hour train ride, I arrived in Prague, the Gateway City into Eastern Europe. At 9:30pm I was set free into the world of, well, disgusting city. A mere seconds after unboarding, I was affronted by a bum screaming something in Czech. If it weren't for the other 20 people rushing from the train station with me, it would have probably been too unbearable. I would have turned around and bought a ticket back to Vienna, where I saw no bums. As I walked toward my hostel, I not only got lost somewhere between 5 and 7 times, I also had the pleasure of walking past somebody on all fours puking on the sidewalk. God was watching out for me, because at about the time I was so over exasperated by my condition of being lost to the point of sitting down and taking up residence on the street, I happened upon a landmark that google maps told me was across the street from my hostel (see the picture taken the next morning.) I was saved.

I checked in and immediately crashed. That five-hour trip on a loud and bumpy train was not conducive to a nap. Even if it were, the sheer fear of being robbed at knife point would have kept me on edge. Thank you for scaring me to death, over-cautious travel guide book.

In the morning, things weren't that bad. I think I was just a bit stressed about being disoriented and being assailed by a babbling angry man. The language barrier was much more stressful than I had anticipated. French has very many similarities to English that I can usually figure out key points on a map or even remember certain key facts (like which subway or bus stop to get off at) like I did in Brussels, but Prague was a totally different story. Czech is a Slavic language, which branches away from the Indo-European language trunk much earlier than the western languages. Street names were a wash of consonants and accented vowels, so I literally had to look at the street signs every corner to even remember which street I had been trampling for the previous 15 minutes. Reading the metro maps was just as futile. If it weren't for my guidebook, I would have found nothing. Ever.

I took a brief trample through the old city, across the famous Charles Bridge, up the (very, very long and steep) hill towards Prague Castle, only to be informed that Barack Obama was signing a piece of paper so the castle was closed to tourists. I begrudgingly turned around, mumbling something similar to "damn, American politicians screw up my travel plans even in Prague" The ancient city was surprisingly small (read: I saw the pertinent sights in a matter of 2 hours, on foot), so I found myself with a few hours on my hand. I traveled south to the Vysherad, the ancient home of Czech Kings, saw Wenceslas Square, and began to realize my usual epiphany of "oh my gosh, so much important stuff happened here."

For Example: Soviet Invasion, 1968

Adam visits Wenceslas Square, 2010
And then I saw some Hogwarts-style buildings, such as the church in the town center:

The next day I tried again to see the Prague Castle. I once again walked up that nasty hill, only to be confronted by the Prague Po-Po again. Apparently I must wait for Dear Barack to finish his morning tea before I could walk around the grounds. I, once again, begrudgingly walked down the hill. I sat down in a park and did some people watching for about an hour. I waited until after lunch and made my way up again. I finally got to go in.

When I was done with that, there was nothing else to see. I chilled out for a few hours, then made my way to the train station to catch a bus (yes, it makes no sense) to Nuremburg to go back home. I slept in my own bed and could shower in my own shower. It was glorious.

I'm running off to Amsterdam on Tuesday morning. Whoot.

Mozart Died Here.

Now that I have your attention:

I'm in Vienna, Wien, Vienne, whatever. The train ride was killer. There was this guy with an unspecified odor who decided to sit behind me starting in Passau. Unfortunately, the train was full as of Passau, so I had to put up with it. Nowhere else to go. There were also screaming children. It was delightful.

The train was 30 minutes late, it was raining, and I didn't get a nap on the train. I was hungry and about to eat the next child who makes a noise. And then I saw the city. It was cool.

My first quest was the Hofburg Palace. For those of you who don't know, the Hofburg Palace was the winter residence of the Hapsburgs. The Hapsburgs owned most of Europe in one way or another for about 600 years. The "mother" empire was the Austro-Hungarian, but they had seeds planted in France, Russia, Germany, and England, Spain, everywhere (but then again, who didn't have a cousin who was the king of some other empire- who was also your uncle.) The amount of wealth that this family had was just..ugh...unbelievable. I took a tour of this palace and all I could think about is how...just...absurd...everything is.

And then I started to think about Vienna as it sits in history today. Vienna may be the most important city to the history of Western Civilization. But as for today, what does it mean? Vienna gave birth to the work of Freud, Klimt, Mozart, Beethoven, etc, etc, (all of whom, by the way, were not born there themselves.) After WWI successfully made the Eastern Empire the empire that nobody wanted, Vienna sort of moved to the fray. All of its great thinkers had evacuated and/or been shot by occupying soldiers. It was then a void until its people were united with the Germans, only to become a victim who asked for their victimhood. After the war, there was a doiley curtain around Vienna - maybe an aluminum foil curtain. Perhaps Vienna has not really realized that the Hapsburgs are gone. The city and the country of which it is the capital (What? Vienna isn't in Germany?) have become places of no real importance.

And now, people think that Austria is that place where kangaroos run free.

Even though Vienna has been ranked as the most comfortable standard of living, what, really, does Vienna have to contribute to the world today? Is there an active literary scene? Is there an active art production scene? Have composers composed anything once Schoenberg was given the boot?

Does Vienna even have businesses? Or is it just Disneyland like so much else of the old country?

Anti-Anti-Americanism

Introduction to European Studies: This is supposed to be the introduction to the ways and lives of modern Europeans. We are told that Europeans hate McDonald's and go so far as to tear one down with pitchforks and other miscellaneous farming equipment. We were told that Europeans define themselves by what they are not- which is that they are not American.

America is the land of opportunity. America is the place where Wal-Mart can start up and become a billion dollar company because Americans want convenience. We don't like standing in line, we don't like stores closing at 7pm, and we don't like paying too much for stuff.

America is the land where we laugh at the Simpsons because it is a gross exaggeration of everything possibly wrong with any family in any corner of our 10-billion square kilometer country. We're the country that's proud of our social and economic conquests in the last 100 years.

Europeans curse the United States as they drink their McCafe Latte in their internal-combustion-engine automobiles as they drive back to their 1950s apartment building built using American money.

Yet they continue to patronize movie Theaters that show American films, make dates to eat at Pizza Hut, and shop at their fake Wal-marts, which are Wal-mart in every way except the name.

So what's the gig? When will it no longer be a crime to be from the USA? When will I have to stop providing answers for our previous leader? When will I no longer have to say that I do not ride a horse and I do not have multiple guns and I do not go to public executions with a picnic basket?

Would you like me to ask you about your former leaders? Would you like me to ask if you wear Lederhosen in your free time and take up a pitch fork every third weekend to protest that you're not getting paid enough to sit on your butt and push a button?

Thought not. So go home and drink your coca-cola, watch CSI and think of questions that really matter.

Wir feiern die ganze Nacht

Today is Good Friday. Today, 1975 years ago, Jesus was crucified. In order to celebrate, The Germans have taken to their favorite form of celebration: Staying at home.

In the US, I never really noticed that such a holiday was so significant for other people. Oftentimes, I would be informed that it was Good Friday a few hours into the day, when somebody in one of my classes mentioned it. Here, I was informed a whole week ahead of time. I was told to mark it on my calendar. I was told to prepare by going to the grocery store on Wednesday to avoid the hordes of people crowding the stores Thursday afternoon. I was told to find a way to entertain myself for a whole four days without stores to shop at, restaurants to eat at, or buses to ride.

So I checked out season three of "Die Simpsons" and watched a few episodes this morning. I have a list of chores I need to do (the dishes in the sink beg to be cleaned) and a book I should finish. Hopefully these three things will get me to Monday, when I hop on a train for....

VIENNA!

But in the meantime, I beg you to wonder about something. If the United States has, on average, 60% of its population regularly attending Christian religious services compared to Germany which has on average less than 30%, why does Germany take every available religious holiday off (as well as the Monday following), while the US is lucky to get Christmas off?