Auf Wiedersehen, Deutschland

It's 11:30 pm on my last night in Germany. This time tomorrow (does some math) I will still be on an airplane, probably somewhere over Canada.

I've said goodbye to everybody. I've had my farewell games of table tennis, farewell dinners, farewell coffees, farewell hugs, and even gave away some of my stuff that I can't take back with me/would be foolish to throw away to other students who will remain here.

I've cleaned my floor, kitchen, and bathroom with my own hands and elbow grease (nobody seems to know of a mop or broom available to residents, so all was done with sponges, paper towels, and a hand broom.) I spent my last euros (on gummy bears and rust remover...?) and have enough cash left over for a packed lunch from the bakery next to the train station. I have my bottle of water (all of which I must drink before I can get through security) and my bags are packed.

My life is once again in two suitcases (hopefully which are not too heavy, but probably are.) I'll probably take some of the paper items (namely those books I just had to take back with me) and shove them in my carry-on. Every bit of space counts, as does every distribution of weight amongst my bags. I'm prepared to make some last-minute discards at the airport.

As I walked back to my apartment for the last time, I looked out on the city of Wuerzburg from the central library and thought how I will never have this perspective - my favorite which I've found - ever again. It's over. My European Excursion is over. No more exciting weekend trips which are only a short train ride away. No more evenings at the pub or playing ping-pong. I will wake up in the morning, eat my bowl of cereal, and head out for the last time. I'm sure some pretty strong feelings will briefly sweep over me.

At the same time, I'm ready to go home. I'm ready to speak English, go to the grocery store at 9:30pm and take classes that are actually stimulating. This whole "suspended reality" in which I've been living has gotten old. I'm ready to be a functioning member of society.

So Goodbye, Germany. Hopefully we will see each other again sooner rather than later.

This was Adam, reporting for the last time from across the ocean. Farewell.

Lasts

This is my last week in Wuerzburg, thus the week of lasts. I’ve taken my last “vacation” (as Amanda calls them), and I begin saying goodbye to people (sad) and the German Bureaucracy (happy). I’ve attended my last classes (happy), taken my exams (also happy), I’m receiving my grades (mostly happy), I’m awkwardly saying farewell to professors for the last time (no comment.) I’ve hopefully washed my last round of dishes (happy – I miss my dishwasher), I’ve washed my last round of clothes (very happy – I hate these washing machines and I miss my dryer.)

On Friday I closed my bank account, so I’m living on a cash-only basis. Except for the deposit I paid on my cafeteria card, all of my European liquid assets are in my wallet (which will be no fun if I’m pickpocketed.) On Monday I will de-register with the city, make my last trip to the grocery store (I ran out of cereal…) and I will go to my last trip to the pub with friends.

My trips with that wretched city bus are numbered, as are my days without air conditioning. Before long, I’ll be in my own car with air conditioning, my own radio and my own route to wherever I want to go, and I won’t look like a pack mule on my way home from wherever I went.

I’ve started cleaning. That means that I’ve basically reorganized my piles of stuff into “throw away,” “take with me,” and “decide if I have enough room” piles. I’ve put all of my winter clothes along with auxiliary items into my checked suitcase, made a pile of clothes that I decided are not worth the transatlantic voyage (even though I decided that my comforter was worth the space it took up in said suitcase – I really do love that thing.) My bookcases (where my piles of junk used to sit) are now empty. I’ll start filling my carry-on suitcase later, perhaps tomorrow.

So now I guess I just wait until I fly away. When I get back, I’ll resume my life where I left off. Now I will go and put off cleaning.

The Former Capital

Today was a day of fail. I woke up early, about 7:15, to a text message asking if I was dead. I moaned, rolled over and decided to start my day.

So I got ready. My plan was to fly off to Bonn, see the capital of (west) Germany during the Cold War, visit this one highly-recommended museum, pay homage to the Beethoven-God, and finally round out the day with some gummy bears from the gummy bear headquarters of the world.

All bright and shiny-faced I walked to the Aldi store not (too) far from my Hostel, stuck my two plastic bottles into the deposit-giver-back-machine, and was told that my bottles were not acceptable. Like hell they aren’t. My instinct was to kick the machine and say “you’re going to take these bottles if it’s the last thing I do,” but I decided instead to ask politely the person on the floor if there was something I could do about it. She said no, because the bottle types aren’t sold by Aldi or its managing or subsidiary companies. So I carried some crushed bottles in the bottom of my bag all day until I found a Netto later in the day. Despite this unpleasant experience, I still bought some new bread rolls to accompany my jelly and another bottle of water before I headed out.

The train cartel was my next adventure. I wanted to ride a Deutsche Bahn train to Bonn because it would be faster and cheaper, given my handy-dandy 50% off card. Since there is no commuter train between the two cities, but they share a metropolitan-transit authority, all of the machines in the station were trained to make sure that no deals were given to any customer (namely me.)I fought the machine, tried to specify only fast trains, but I lost. Normally, a trip of that distance would have cost me 4.5 Euros with my 50% off card, but the machine wasn’t letting me choose that option. So I gave up and paid the 7 Euros to get to Bonn with the Zone-4 commuter rail ticket out of sheer frustration.

So I arrived and eagerly toured the former capital area. That was all fun and dandy. I went to my first much-anticipated museum only to realize that it was Monday, and museums are closed on Monday. I consulted my travel guide to see how many of my other planned destinations were closed only to realize that would be all of them. So I winced in pain and probably muttered something along the lines of “d’oh” and retreated back into the old city. My fault, there is nobody else to blame (except cruel fate.) I decided that since I had paid a prince’s fare to get here, I should enjoy it.

Well, Bonn looks like every other old city: glass-windowed shops and grey stones. I was just absolutely elated by this new discovery that all I could do was run for the river and plop down in the garden behind the University and read a book for about 3 hours.

I came back to Cologne and found another park, only to read for about another 2 hours. I came all the way to the Ruhr Valley to sit in a park and read a book - wonderful use of my last Euros, right? Planning fail.

So I went back to Aldi, bought some sausages and will cook them for dinner, after which I will probably go back to a shady green spot and read some more until it gets dark. Finally I’ll go to bed early. Tomorrow I’ll visit the stuff in Cologne, buy a train ticket home, route it through Bonn, try my much-anticipated museums one more time, and then hop back on a train to get home. Minus 5 points for travelling on a Monday.

East (and West)

This morning I took a leisurely trip through Dresden. I took the streetcar into one of the GDR developments and have since decided that the much-detested apartment buildings are actually a good idea. They provide lots of housing in only a little space. Great. What’s better is that the designers planned green space into the grid; between each of the 5-7 story tall buildings is a large park with playground equipment for the kids. Even better, it’s well connected to the city with a street car line. Riverside and Slaughter Lane in Austin should be jealous. If you’re going to complain about how ugly and boring they are, you should look at the rest of Germany, yes, even in the west. I’d rather live in a 7-story tall building with identical floor plans and some tile decoration on the outside than those ghastly pastel-colored cardboard boxes that litter Würzburg, Munich, and the rest of these havens of individuality and free choice.

Besides my affinity for staring at East German Housing solutions, I got to gawk at a giant VW factory made of glass. Had I found it during normal working hours (which for Germans may end as early as 4pm), I would have seen the multi-story assembly line in action. I probably would have spent hours in utter fascination, but that is neither here nor there. The fact is that I saw it on a Sunday morning, so there was no way anything in the city would be open, much less be productive.

Then I realized that time was not on my side and bolted across the city on foot with my bajillion-pound backpack (what? 30 minutes until the next streetcar? No way) to the Neustadt Bahnhof, and approached the automated ticket machine, only to be foiled by an old man who beat me by mere fractions of a second. The other lines were occupied by tourists who (1) didn’t read German and (2) weren’t smart enough to choose one of the other 8 language options. As the aforementioned old man dutifully contemplated his options for a train to Chemnitz (by the way, there were only two,) I anxiously tapped my foot because my train would be leaving in 4 minutes. I received one of those looks that old people give which means “calm down, you whipperschnapper” in any language. Finally, he made his decision, I went “tap, tap, tap, tap" on the screen, paid with my exact cash, grabbed my ticket, ran to the appropriate platform (which, naturally, was one of the last ones at the end of the train station), took the stairs three at a time as I heard the conductor blow the “all clear” whistle, and bolted for the door just like we’ve all seen in movies. I made it to the nearest door just as it was closing (and tripped on the last step.) Luckily there wasn’t an old lady with a cane or a parent with a baby stroller; otherwise there would have been collateral damage. I picked myself up as the train nudged its way out, and found a seat while celebrating my small victory of arriving by the skin of my teeth.

I gave my heart rate some time to return to normal before I busted out the book that got me through the next hour and a half. When I arrived in Weimar, I was ready for another adventure.

Unfortunately, Weimar is not the place one goes to find adventure. I paraded out of the Hauptbahnhof with my itinerary and routes planned out on my map. I was impressed by the turn-of-the century architecture by the train station, but that was about it. I made my way through the “highly recommended” sights, only to discover they were just boring things that I’ve seen everywhere else. Woo. The house where Goethe lived? It looks like a cardboard box. Schiller’s residence? Now it’s a glass-façade museum. The stunning palace and fortress? Nothing that great. So I turned around and made my way back to wait for the next available train out of there. It was already 2pm and I was hungry, so I thought I would look around at the charming little restaurants. Bad Idea. Since apparently the only industry in Weimar is the tourist-trap industry, everything was a good 4-7 Euros more than I would be willing to pay, even if I weren’t in austerity mode. So I settled for Subway, where apparently the words “big or small” have their own dialectical twist. I asked for the sandwich of the day (which was actually appealing, Turkey and Ham), but somewhere in the laborious task of not putting olives on my sandwich, the guy forgot that I asked for the special price (you know, the one advertised every 2 feet in the restaurant) and charged me the regular price. I didn’t even get a cookie. I wanted to throw my Fanta in his face, but I did my usual “Gosh, I wish I could complain and argue in German” grunt and evil glare as I went out onto the patio.

Finally, the time came for me to zip off to Cologne. After 200 pages and a short nap, I was there with the big Dom hovering over me. This dome is everything I had ever expected out of a cathedral. This is what I wanted when I saw (the puny) Notre Dame in Paris. The spires seem to go up forever. Even as you approach it from afar, your eyes are required to look upwards for the full extent of the steeples. The façade is worth 45 minutes of awe. I just had to go inside.

They were tuning the organ. This was interesting. While tourists filed past the crypts and chapels, the organ-tuner would belch out a tone, manipulate it to a very sharp extreme, a very flat extreme, and then find a happy center. People walked around with their fingers in their ears, only to remove them as they snapped a (not allowed) picture. The Tuner did this for every chromatic note on the keyboard and the foot pedals. Luckily for me, I bolted before he made it to the high register.

So then I decided, Ok, bedtime. Except it was only 9 pm. I went to the lobby of my hostel (which, by the way opened on the 5^th of this month) and watched some BBC news. It was actually pretty interesting. News followed by an educational but pertinent segment about a very interesting/polarizing event/policy, and then a short inspirational piece about people who save the world (or at least kittens in Morocco.) I would probably watch BBC for hours on end if they had it in the USA.

So then I went to bed. The place still smelled like new, so it was a comforting sleep.

Bach-Land

Today I started an adventure into the East. My taste in Berlin did not satisfy me, so I hopped on a train bound for Dresden. I got off in Leipzig to see what was there, and then continued on.

First, the train ride was absurdly long. I keep thinking “fast train=2 or 3 hours.” No. I got to sit on a train for 5. Not going to complain, because it was air conditioned, but I sort of got hungry, and my desire to not withdraw any more Euros has put me in austerity mode: that means no food from the BordBistro. Thank goodness I had packed my last (browning and mushy) banana, so that held me over until I made it to Leipzig. I’m also thankful that I bought a book (in English, I’m getting lazy), because I turned on my iPod to see the little red battery, so I decided to conserve it for the tedious ride home, which always takes 4x longer than the ride away from home.

Leipzig was surprisingly cool. The train station rivals Frankfurt and Munich (even though it handles probably ¼ of the traffic.) There are 3 floors of shopping in the front part of the station, and luckily there was an Aldi (one of my preferred grocery stores.) I bought my usual travelling meal of a bag of bread rolls (6 for 89 cents), a small jar of jelly (99 cents), and a bag of gummy bears (89 cents.) I have some disposable knives which I’ve acquired through my travels thus far. The bread will last me 2 meals, the jelly will probably be thrown away after the trip is over. The gummy bears were gone by the time I got to Dresden (oops.)

Anyway, I made my way to the fringes of town to the gigantic war memorial, then I peeped into the churches of Bach fame, perused the Forum for Contemporary History in Germany (End of WWII until today), and the former Stasi Headquarters in Leipzig. The penultimate was really cool, because it dealt with those banal details of everyday life that are actually quite interesting (at least to me.) I got to tour a DDR-era prefabricated apartment, look at some toys, watch some TV from the 70s in the east, and take a look at food selections. The Stasi Headquarters was OK, but I think the impact was lost because I already saw the “national” headquarters in Berlin (which was larger and more comprehensive). But it’s still really interesting (and disturbing) to see the machines designed for opening up and resealing mail without the recipient knowing it and gawking at the huge shredding/mulching machines for confiscated material (you know, such as newspapers from the West). Next door, there is a big archive of all the documents that the Leipzig Stasi kept. One can go in and read the files that the “Security Police” had kept on you – everything from notes from when they observed you to samples of your hair and fingerprints. I’m pretty sure I would have given it two thumbs up, but I didn’t have an appointment, nor do I have a file.

I then meandered back to the train station and finished the stretch to Dresden. I was immediately greeted by my good friend, the East German Crossing light. He makes me so happy. Checked into my hostel, received a free upgrade to a private room (because they had run out of dorm beds, with which I’m OK),and then I made my way around the city – a bridge from the 19^th century that survived the 2-day long bombing raid, the rows and rows of prefabricated apartment buildings (which are actually slightly appealing to me), and then the old city.

I was really worried that I was rushing my stay in Dresden, but since I crossed most everything off of my list after 3 hours, I know I made the right decision. I’m going to finish off my list and then I’ll flee to the complete other side of Germany.

I'm Still Alive

So you came here hoping for a great piece of blogging literature. Sorry to disappoint you.

The past week or so has been rather dull. I've had to put my nose to the grindstone and actually study, prepare for presentations, and, well, do nothing exciting. However, things are winding down here. I'm finished with four of my five classes and I've already received my grades for two of them. I took a killer exam today, but I'm taking the class on the pass/fail basis, so as long as I scrape by with a D, I'm fine.

I had to pay the remainder of my rent contract (the two months during which I will not live here) in cash, so my bank account was drained. Now I feel like I usually do at the end of a semester - counting my dimes (um, Euro coins?) and asking myself if I really needed that bottle of wine three weeks ago (I could eat food for a whole day for that price). Anyway, so I've done some math to discover just how much of this foreign currency I need in order to survive while I'm here (which, by the way, happens as the Euro escalates again.) So the next weeks will consist of grocery shopping with that nasty voice in the back of my mind saying "will you have the desire to laboriously prepare this food and eat all of it before you leave?" The answer is usually no, which means I will go back to the subsistence level of my first few days: cereal. Joy.

I've been having some frustrations with the German concept of customer service lately. My internet connection is apparently a 12-month contract (jerkface salesman told me I could end my contract early...liar), so my attempt to end my contract has turned into a nightmare. I thought I would be efficient and go to the customer service center in town (which, by the way, is out in the boonies), but I arrived to find out that it is a place for people to go when they want a new connection, and that is it. I showed up and told them I wanted to end my service, only to discover that I need to do everything over the e-mail. I e-mail the appropriate robot only to get vague answers and broad instructions such as "you need to return your modem" with no hint as to where I should send it. I think (after 4 days of replying with more and more specific questions which SHOULD solicit a clear answer, but only realizing that I continue to receive vague answers) I'm finally getting to the point where I can safely end my internet contract. It would just be nice if I could call somewhere (you know, and not pay 14 cents per minute) and efficiently get stuff done.

So now I'm roasting bratwurst, drinking the fantastic orange soda which I will miss so much (but will gladly sacrifice for Dr. Pepper), and meticulously planning my last excursion in Europe. I'm going to Dresden in the morning (with a stop in Leipzig), followed by a sweep across Germany to Cologne (with a stop in Weimar), and then home (with stops in Mainz and Darmstadt.) Afterward, my available resources will be limited to about 30 or 40 Euros, which need to get me through the remaining 8 days (my train ticket to the airport is already paid for.) The impending task of cleaning lies ahead of me, but I keep putting it off. The internet is just so much more interesting.

So peace out, world (I had a reader from somewhere in Russia - shout out to you. Привет, кто вы.)

What? Work?

Many things to tell you today. None of them of great excitement. Sorry.

1. I actually have to do work. I was dumb and told myself "oh, I'll do my presentations towards the end so I will have more confidence in front of the class and a better fluency in German." Well, while these may be true, it also means that I've put them off until the last minute, so I had two last week and one next week. My entire grade for my classes rides on that dumb presentation. Normally (in English) I would have the opportunity to give a riveting lecture of great success and consequence, but instead I stand up and mutter (in German) like a kindergärtner.

2. Professors are scary. They're not scary because they are big, burly, and could beat me up, but because they seem to be ambivalent. I told them at the beginning of the semester that I need this piece of paper called a "schein" with a grade. I told them that I will do what I need to receive this piece of paper, but I've been asked by 2 of them what I need. Dummy-I've told you. We've had this discussion. I'm just afraid that at the end of this semester, they're just going to give me a "participant schein" instead of a real one. And then I'll have to fight with UT, which will be a losing battle. Please, professors, listen to me.

3. It's really hot. I don't know how I ever survived in Texas, because the highs here are only in the mid-90s. I went to the grocery store this morning and I just wanted to hang out in the refrigerated section. On my way back, I put my frozen food in the back of my backpack so that it would cool my back for my hike to my apartment. I stick everything in the freezer, and it would take a lot of motivation (and hunger) to take it out and cook it, because as soon as I turn on that stove and heat a pan, the temperature in the apartment raises. I'd just rather eat cereal and ice cream. It at least makes me feel like I'm cooling off.

4. I'm going home pretty soon. This means that I need to clean this place. Anybody who knows me realizes that I'm comforted by clutter and am a pack rat. 6 months here and I've already accumulated too much stuff. Sometime next week (or the week after that, or the day before my flight leaves) I'm going to sift through my piles, decide if this little paper will be of great necessity in my future or not. Chances are, I'll put it in my "to decide later" pile. I'm not looking forward to that.

So now that I've successfully wasted time I could have spent doing something productive (but probably not), I say to you enjoy your air conditioner.

The 50 cent salad

I had a wonderfully delightful meal of flavorless spaghetti sauce smeared over noodles of questionable origin and makeup with a hunk of chicken-like meat and a side of "salad," or so the little cash register of an incredibly unfriendly lady at the cafeteria showed. In reality, this "salad" was one piece of withered lettuce/cabbage/lawn weed (it was hard to decide, it was in such sad condition) and a slice of tomato.


As I passed through the line to pick up my central cuisine for the day, I looked at the sign under the main dish and it said said "side dish: 50 cents." Normally, one would assume "side dish" entails something rather substantial, like a few baby potatoes, or rice, or spätzle, or in any case something that requires more than one chomp and a mastication time of 5 seconds before it is completely gone.


I did not see anything that passed such criteria, so I just grabbed my plate and headed to the cash register. A small voice in the back of my head said "that's peculiar. There is no side dish, only this partially-aesthetically pleasing garnish. How tasteful." I should have been much more mistrusting of the German cafeteria system. I arrived and I was charged 50 cents for that dumb piece of lump greenery and slice of tomato. I don't even like tomatoes. A voice inside of me screamed "Injustice!," but my outward facade probably made only an unpleased wrinkle of the nose. I turned the other cheek and sat down, mostly because I was too afraid to argue in German with these rather scary ladies.


That was just the tip of the iceberg (and not of the lettuce variety.) The Germans are very willing to charge you (absurd amounts of) extra just for minute things, like ketchup.

A trip to the restaurant is a game with the waitress. She will ask you if you want and as if you would like french fries or potatoes with your meal. An American would say "Oh! I totally forgot to specify my choice of side dish!" and promptly choose on the spot. An inner voice should say "NO! they're trying to trick you!" As soon as you utter "oh, mashed potatoes would be nice. Thank you for asking," BAM! 4 euros are tacked onto your bill, and you can't really argue because the waitress will move from her clear high-german-for-foreigners to her mother region dialect and you will just become red in the face and fork over the ransom fee. That packet of ketchup she brought out with your Wiener Schnitzel? You had better not open it, otherwise BAM, 30 cents tacked onto your bill. The lovely array of bread placed on your table before your meal comes out? DANGER! It costs anywhere from 3 to 5 euros. Don't touch it! Pretend it's not there! RESIST TEMPTATION!

Ice cream shops are no different. Oh, you want to eat that HERE, on OUR property, at OUR tables, at the restaurant you ordered it from? We have a different, higher price for that. You must leave, even though all of our seats are empty.


The "ha! gotcha!" tax does not apply only to food here. Every venture into the real world is a minefield. The only way to be safe is to not trust anybody and watch the little screen for any funny business. I've seen customers explode at the cashier because they were charged for the bag in which their potatoes were packaged. Response from the cashier? "The bag is not necessary, you can take what you want from the (burlap) bag."


A polite question at the travel center in the train station can add 3 to 8 euros to the price of your trip. One time, I went in to ask if I could get off the train at a city and re-board another to my final destination. The simple "yes, you can" was followed by "would you like to buy your ticket from me, since you're already here?" I said "Why, that's so considerate of you." Jerkface was going to charge me 25 euros for a ticket that would have cost 18 at the machines. Good thing I did my homework. I called him out on it and said that it was a "convenience fee." Pssht. Convenient my butt. I had to wait in line for you to treat me like an ignorant imbecile. I politely said "I've changed my mind" and went out to the machines.


Do you have a question about your internet service/phone service? Do you want to call a cab? Would you like to see if your train is on time? Please call this number, and we will be glad to charge you 14 cents/minute while you listen to elevator music until our next available representative is available to help you out. Your call is important to us, because we're squeezing you of your children's inheritance.


I guess I'm just too cheap and too American to appreciate the German "do it yourself, dummy" attitude. Until I finally succumb or fly back to the new world, I will constantly keep up my guard, avoid any semblance of consideration, carry around my bottle of water, and make sure to say "no, thank you" as often as possible.

Roman Currency

So I visited Rome, the capital of the last great pan-European empire. The legacy of the Kings, Republic, and the Empire has had so much cultural value since their demise. Since then, all three varieties of government have reached back and claimed some kind of parallelism. So this made me think how this value of Rome has been seen, and how it really has affected the way we see things.

Karl Marx said that history repeats itself. Mark Twain said that history does not repeat itself, it just rhymes. Adam Hagerman says history is a dialogue between the past and the present, and that dialogue is informed by patterns.

What Adam means by this is that we constantly refigure ourselves based on the values of our time. Other historians agree with him. How we see ourselves today informs our perception of the past, and even how we see the past informs our perception of who we are today. Sounds like a big circle of crazy craziness, but it makes sense if you break it down a bit. My first two references fill out this point. Consider the context in which they were said. Karl Marx said (simplified) that history is just a record put on repeat of class conflicts – the upper class gains oppressive power, the poor is oppressed and becomes fed up with it, the lower classes revolt, lower classes become content and oppression revs up again. Rinse and repeat ad infinitum. The surrounding contexts were largely irrelevant. Mark Twain wrote a book about an anachronistic bureaucrat, the “Yankee” who is transported back in time to King Arthur’s court, and detailed the interplay of change and conservation is played out at a grotesque level, only to show how any time period, even though experiencing different circumstances and experiences, are susceptible to the major themes of history, namely revolution (of a technological and social variety, as Twain uses.) The results are unique in that the effects are unique. So Marx’s world view of the circle of proletariat – bourgeoisie struggle informed his perception of history, just as Mark Twain’s world view of constant change in technological and social development informed his perception of history as a forward-moving train with similar events that smell a bit like the past.

My postulate is illustrated by Napoleon. Napoleon used every opportunity to compare himself to the glory of Ancient Rome, whether it be in portraits by David or the large monuments to himself he erected throughout Paris. France came from a long tradition of classical influence (or so it said.) During the time of the monarchy, Louis (of whichever variety) drew references with the Greek and Roman mythology to emphasis a divine influence of whatever sort. During the age of Revolution, France was home to the reincarnate Roman republic of liberty, fraternity, and equality. Let’s just ignore for a moment that this idea is a farce in the connection they made. When Napoleon came to power and constructed the great French Empire (which, comically for Marx and Twain, follows the same pattern of the Roman Empire), he assumed the paraphernalia of the Romans, from illustrating himself in a toga and laurel wreath to the grand Arc d’Trioumphe which looks startlingly similar to the Arc of Titus found today in the ruins of the Roman Forum.

So let’s talk about how Napoleon was anything but a repeat of the Roman Empire. His power came through a governmental coup (still debatable) and sought out to dominate the European continent with little incentive other than to exercise his military power. His empire fell because he was a weak leader incapable of controlling the (already) civilized and developed lands he unjustly invaded. Rome, on the other hand, expanded to spread civilization to the barbarian lands. Rome failed because it became too large for one emperor to handle.

Now let’s talk about how Napoleon is the rightful heir to the Roman Empire. Napoleon gained his power because he proved to be a good leader and the people chose to honor him by allowing him to serve indefinitely and spread the superior French values of culture and government to the unenlightened areas of the continent. He met his fate because he, too, had met his barbarians while fighting an offensive crusade and could not recover. It’s merely the force of destiny that brought the great French Empire to its knees, forced to shrink back to its former territory. The path of Rome was just the path destined for any great empire.

The first scenario is perhaps how the Germans and Russians would view Napoleon. The second is, of course, how the French would view Napoleon.

Napoleon isn’t the only one to have drawn on the fame and legacy of the Roman Empire. The United States did it, too. Look at Washington D.C. The domes and government offices scream classical from the Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson memorials’ obelisks, concave roofs, friezes and columns, just like in ancient temples.

This constant reference to the classical world informs our outlook on ourselves, just as it did with the French and Napoleon. We view ourselves as the upholders of democracy, the land of the free, and the pinnacle of the western world. Others view us as the gluttonous heathens who will rot eternally because of our pagan ways. It just depends on who chooses to identify with which role in history and from whose perspective.

I didn’t give the third postulate’s context. We live in a world of information and the abundance of so many perspectives that anybody can form a polemic argument and be completely correct. We live in a world with so much documented history behind us that we can choose to ally ourselves with the great Romans or the heathen tribes from Gaul. The history is there and we are free to make it repeat itself if we so choose. Otherwise we can simply say that this is a new era with only minor similarities. Or it’s completely new. It’s all up to us.