The End of Paris

Our last day in Paris was relatively smooth. There is no need to complain about the wait in lines, because we didn’t go anywhere. It’s what a vacation should be – simply go somewhere, pick a spot on a bench, look at something pretty, shop a little, eat something light, a delightful dessert, and go home.

Amanda and I took a train (finally) to the ritzy Paris shopping center. Our experience with Haute Couture wasn’t necessarily rewarding, but it’s always fun to see what people would rather spend their money on. We did some window shopping, talked about the seemingly-diseased mannequins in the displays of whatever absurdly-priced shop we passed. We went into Hermes, a place known for their scarves. I looked around and saw a bunch of 300 Euro cuts of cloth that wouldn’t keep anybody warm in 70-degree-fahrenheit weather. Nobody ever said fashion was functional, right?

After walking around a bit, we decided we were sick of the uniform façade of the Parisian row houses, so we crossed the Seine to the big park in front of the Eiffel Tower. We sat there for about an hour and talked, sipped on water, and avoided the potential scam-artists asking if we spoke English or bending over to grab a ring we dropped, but had never before seen. We decided it was time to head back to the hotel and grab our bags, so we meandered down the street, found a bakery so Amanda could acquire her last round of Parisian macaroons (still delicious), and skiddadled.

We took a bus to Amanda’s train station, Gare du Nord. Once there, we had a few minutes so we sat down at a restaurant without ordering anything, filled out the UK immigration form, and said goodbye. Amanda is now off in London.

I had two hours to blow before my train. Parisian train stations are not exactly places one feels safe hanging around, so I took the metro to the Bastille area just to see what’s there (don’t get excited, that is not the former location of the Bastille Prison.) I found bit of lunch at a market-grocery-store (given the standards of cleanliness I’ve witnessed in other Parisian establishments, I settled for a banana, a bottle of water and the croissants I stole from the Hotel breakfast), nothing too exciting. When the time came, I made my way to MY train station, Gare de l’Est, became frustrated with the disorganization of the French rail system (the departure board said platform 4, but there was no train there. It was really platform 7), boarded the train, and am now back on my way to Germany where I don’t have to aux Pickpocket (as Amanda and I jocularly pronounce aww pee poe to mock the French ability to ignore 2/3 of the letters in a written word), pay too much for a hunk of bread and a bottle of water, where I can enjoy walking down the street without the fear of traversing through a puddle of urine (like we narrowly avoided Gare du Nord), or have to put up with the generally unpleasant French demeanor.

So now I’m off to reconvene with my studies and have a productive week. I have quite a bit to which I should attend in the coming days.

Peace out.

Paris - Much Better, but Still Dirty.

So, I'm clean and slept in a bed that is actually up to Western-World standards. The world is looking nice.

Yesterday we went out to the Musee d'Orsay, which was surprisingly well-organized and interesting (although entirely in French.) I was expecting another Lourve where things were placed haphazardly based on a broad time and geographic period. I really enjoyed their exhibition "Crime and Punishment." It was basically an exposition of works relating to murder, guillotine, femme fatal, and other punishable offenses and/or modes of capital punishment. Yay for gore. Plus, I got in for free because I'm an EU-resident. Whoot-Whoot for my student visa.

Later, we spent some time pilly-paddling around the city. We went to a shopping district around the Opera House (which, by the way, is absurdly huge.) We had some macaroons, which were delicious. Mine was lemon-flavored. It was like eating candy with the texture of a wafer. A+ for French pastries.

Later we went to the Eiffel Tower. The lines were...omg...unbelievably long. Thank God we were smart and made reservations online. Totally worth the convenience fee. It was also the location of a very strange occurrence. It goes a little something like this:

Two strange ladies to the guy standing behind us: "Is this the line to get into the Eiffel Tower?"

Strange guy behind us: "This is the line for people who reserved online. Do you have a ticket?"

Ladies: "No. What do they look like?"

Me: "Like this" I show them my ticket.

a few moments pass

Strange guy: "So where are you guys from?"

Amanda and I: "Texas."

Guy: "Me too. From Midland. What part?"

Adam: "Austin, but I'm really from Amarillo"

Guy: "That's cool. I grew up in Pampa."

Us: "Shut up. Adam is from Pampa."

We then spent about an hour (naturally while waiting in line) talking about Austin Elementary, (former) Celanese and its explosion, and Paris. His daughter was full of energy (not in the annoying "shut up and take a sedative" way) and probably made the trip to the Eiffel Tower more fun. Yay for small world (and super-tourist attractions.)

The top was really cool. If it hadn't been cloudy and rainy or cold and windy, we would have seen a lot more and had the gumption to stay outside on the terraces longer. But given the conditions, the 9-o'clock-ness and the lack of dinner/raging hunger (apparently eating dinner is customary between 8 and 9), we had to make our way down. Amanda and I then promptly ate at a restaurant tucked in a corner, just off of the main avenue of loud tourists. It was awesome, and on average 5 euros less per entree than the restaurant ON the main avenue, only 10 meters away. By the time we were done, it was 11, we were tired, and we had to go to bed. As we made it to the Seine, we looked up and the Eiffel Tower was alight and shimmering. Score. (Turn your head a bit to view the video.)

Now that you're enlightened, I'll tell a bit more about the good things from our first day. Besides the subway smelling of human excrement, the never-ending labyrinth of stairs, and the abundance of beggars, it's incredibly effective and runs pretty frequently (and much cheaper than the subways in Germany, London, or New York.) It gets us mostly wherever we want with a minimal amount of transfers.

We took a walking tour from the Arc de Triomphe down the Champs-Elysees to the Touilleries and to the "Ile de la Cite," home of the Notre Dame. It was much smaller than I imagined after all of those hours reading Victor Hugo (and also thanks to Disney.)

The Lourve was pretty amazing. We stayed until our feet could just not carry us anymore. We managed to scour through most of the

museum. We saw the basic sights: Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, a few Gericault, Delacroix, and David (which greatly pleased me - Amanda might have wanted me to shut up about them.) Amanda went wild in the Ancient Egyptian Artifacts. We even found a bust that looks (very creepily) like my brother.

As we left, we were beat and wanted to immediately fall asleep, but the sun was still out. It was 10pm and Apollo had forgotten to drag the sun from the sky. Ugh.

Overall, it wasn't THAT bad. You know, besides the sanitation horrors with which I was confronted. Today we're supposed to go to Versailles and take a Seine Cruise - if Amanda ever finishes getting ready.

Paris: The City of Trash

I write to you today from the 2^nd floor of a McDonalds about 500m from the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs-Elysees. I am unshowered, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and tired of Paris. Already.

Our train arrived about 1:30pm. Immediately, we were assailed by beggars and vagrants of every variety asking if we spoke English, throwing change cups in our faces, and in general attributing to a very tense atmosphere of “oh my God I’m going to be pick-pocketed.” We got to the Metro Station only to stand in line as a long line of tourists fought a ticket machine that only took coins. We got to the machine, and realized that we were about 2 Euros short of our 12 Euro “book” of metro tickets (which, in reality, were 10 pieces of loose paper about 3cm x 7cm). The metro was a maze of staircases going both up and down (just to get to one platform), we had the great misfortune of getting on a train full to the brim of people not normally considered pleasant by the Western World. We had to change trains (which meant another maze of stairs in multiple directions), and finally arrived at our location. The location was loud and busy – the city with a high energy buzz, right?

I booked our lodging around the first of March. The place had 4 out of 5 star customer ratings, excellent reviews, and pictures of a place that I would expect for 60 Euros/night from a liquidation booking agency. It had free Wi-Fi, free breakfast, and an excellent balcony view of the City and the Montmartre Sacre-Coeur, depending on which side of the building your room was on. Turns out all of these criterion were true – except they forgot to mention the following:

1. Wi-Fi was slow, unreliable, and required login information that expires periodically.

2. Free Breakfast consisted of a loaf of bread. Not even French bread. Instead, a loaf of sandwich bread in a bag from a market. The butter came from a big tub.

3. The balcony was excellent, except the room adjoining was a hell-hole. I expound in the following.

The hotel room had no in-room bathroom. The shower was down the hallway and the toilet was on a different floor. Yes – we had to go downstairs to pee. The far-away toilet didn’t even have a sink. The room DID have a sink, but it didn’t drain. It’s not because the plug was in it. It just didn’t drain. There was a hole in the wall next to the sink – and not a beautiful, charming, Parisian hole, but a hole created from water damage and rot.

Now, keep this in mind as I continue.

We arrived around 2pm, but the accommodations weren’t ready until 4. Amanda and I put our luggage in the storage room – a small, unattended corner closet that smelled of dried piss. We thought “ok, this is just the luggage room. We expect it to be kind of ugly.” The hotel had a “charm” of age, so we just thought it was turn-of-the-century Parisian charm. You know, like in the Aristocats. We decided to leave our luggage in the locked room and see some of the city. We took the subway (which, by the way, was still ugly, dirty, and smelly with very un-handicap-accessible stairways) to the Arc de Triomphe. The view was amazing and I thought, “Ok. This is worth it.” We walked down the Champs-Elysees, found a charming sidewalk café and had lunch. It had a charming server with lots of energy, ready to take our order with humor and spunk. We ordered, Amanda went to wash her hands and came back with a very disturbed look. This restaurant, which was charging 12 Euros for a modest bowl of Pasta and 6 Euros for a bottle of water, did not have a sink with running water in the woman’s bathroom. My stomach churned a bit. I pulled out my hand sanitizer, and decided to not touch my food with my hands. The server brought the bread out. It was sliced baguette in a charming little wicker bowl. My hands were still not pristine, so I ate it with a fork – much to the dismay of the Parisians surrounding us. After eating 3 pieces, we saw the bottom of the dish – it had dirt in it. Not like flecks of dirt or a random stray hair, but crusted dirt. Dirt that remains after one carries a clod of dirt in that bowl. It was disgusting. We paid our exorbitant amount for the restaurant and left.

The day went about normal. We visited the Lourve (it was opened until 10 on Friday), saw Notre Dame, walked along the Seine, saw some Tuilleries, and were tired. We went back to this place where some ill-advised people choose to spend the night.

We checked in, were given our key, and got on the lift. It wasn’t big enough for two people to stand in the slightest degree of comfort. Now imagine two people, one with a big suitcase and bag filled for 2 ½ weeks in Europe, the other with a backpack and a weekend’s worth of clothing on this thing. The doors closed (only partially, I might add) and Amanda’s face was squished against the back wall, my arm was pinched by the gap between the doors, and every part of our bodies was touching another surface. “Think Thin, Adam. Think Thin.”

We got to the top, saw our hellhole, and the night was ruined. It was 11pm, no other hotel would accept us that late, we had already paid, and there was nothing we could do. Some choice words were exchanged, lots of complaining, and we went to bed on the old, drooping mattresses of our worn out beds with questionably laundered sheets utterly angry and ready to quit and go home.

The next morning, I went to the downstairs toilet. It wasn’t functioning, and I will save you from the true description by describing it as “full.” I felt my empty stomach begin hurling. I immediately grabbed my computer, used the internet to find another hotel. I made the reservation, went up the 6 flights of stairs, told Amanda to get up and we left. Checked out, complained, only got 1/3 of a refund (“Our cancellation policy doesn’t allow us to refund you the entire amount”) and hauled our stuff.

The subway line serving that place of beds and inadequate plumbing is closed today. Here we were, two Americans who speak no French with lots of baggage at 7am on a Saturday walking long distances to a subway line that actually functions. The curbs had flowing puddles of water, trash covered the streets and sidewalks, a certain Eau de Filth filled the air. Amanda warned me not to let my bag run through the streams cascading through the streets. I turned around and said “at least there is running water in the streets.”

We finally made it to the alternate hotel. Our luggage currently sits in the attended luggage room (which didn’t smell like a litterbox), and we had the opportunity to “freshen up” in the freshly cleaned and functioning downstairs public restrooms. We can check in at 2pm, at which time we will promptly shower and feel human again. After our experience in “Parisian restaurants” where servers handle money, pick up trash off the ground, and then touch your glasses that they put ice into with their bare, unwashed hands, we are jaded. The bistros and brasseries aren’t serving real breakfast (apparently a small cup of expresso is sufficient for this variety of humans), so we went somewhere advertising free internet, which just happens to be McDonald’s. We’ll go to the Musee d’Orsay when it opens.

Until then, we hope for Paris to get better. Really.

Wirtschaftswunder

I know I talk about how people live amongst their history, and I'm going to wax lyrically a bit more now. The reason it's really interesting now is because I'm going to talk about Munich as it relates to the comeback of the German nation after 1945.

As we all know, Germany was razed to the ground during WWII. The German Mark was once again worthless, German Industry was at ground zero again. Instead of leaving Germany to its own devices like after Versailles, the victors invested money to make Germany a productive western nation embedded in respective economic and political philosophies. The lands occupied by the Soviet Union did their thing, and Western Germany took off like a rocket.

The word "Wirtschaftswunder" means "Economic Miracle." So far, no city is a prime example of this as Munich. Much of the downtown area and former “old city” was rebuilt in the old style and gleams today like it was built, well, 50 years ago. Munich is the ultimate Phoenix.

The meaning of Munich is the meaning of Germany. It is the symbol of reinvention amongst tradition. Its architecture spans from re-invented medieval to ultra-modern. It was home to kings and now the most thriving bourgeois in Germany. It is home to industries such as BMW and Siemens and the European headquarters for many global service, publishing, and insurance operations. Muenchners enjoy the highest average wages in all of Germany, but maintain one of the lowest costs of living. The thriving economy looks like London and the cultural aura feels like New York City.

When Munich was chosen to host the 1972 Olympics, it was really the point at which the world recognized Germany as a world player again. Instead of building anything normal, Munich chose to represent itself as a city of the future with some of the (still to this day) most modern architecture and cutting-edge technology, which is yet, as far as I know, to be matched by any other Olympic host. It is a symbol of a city that has recovered from its past and looks forward to the future, a claim not many cities its size can advertise.

Munich proper is the size of Dallas and the size Munich/Augsburg and DFW metro areas are very close. I very much like to compare the cities because they maintain two of the most diversified economies in the western world. It, like Dallas, has fared pretty well in the recent economic downturn. However, what Munich has done that Dallas has not is a plan for stability and sustainability. I had no problem getting around Munich - public transport was a breeze. It was very predictable and convenient. Dallas is a completely different story: one must live in the right places, otherwise getting around is a nightmare (granted, Dallas is planning to expand and make the city public-transport-friendly). Munich has some of the most advanced urban infrastructure I've seen in a European city. Suburbia sprawls around the city and commuters flow into the business parks daily. Highways, byways, express ways, and streets actually large enough for two cars to pass each other connect the far and wide areas, much like the efficient highway system in DFW, yet air quality in Munich was never an issue. Not once did I feel my throat burn as it did in London, Brussels, Hamburg, Amsterdam, or Vienna. I'm not sure how they did it, but it was actually pleasant.

And most of all, I felt safe. No shady corners and suspicious characters. I did not feel the need to check for my wallet as I walked down the street, nor did I have a problem with setting my backpack lazily on the floor in front of me on the subway. Just some numbers to give you an idea: in 2007, there were 13 murders in Munich, a city of 1.5 million people. Compare that to 187 in Dallas and 284 in Houston. Not bad, I say.

The city is clean and pretty much void of peculiar characters. I attribute that to the high standard of living that residents in Munich enjoy, but also the intensive public services designed to keep trash and beggars off of the street.

Also, Munich is easy-going. Not once did I feel the need to rush somewhere like I do when I visited Chicago, New York, or London. Sipping a coffee on the side street is nice, to-go restaurants even have standing places, and the subway wasn't crammed to the brim.

All in all, it is a city that has planned itself well. It keeps its eggs amongst different baskets, looks out for the quality of life, isn't afraid to try something new, and has planned for future expansion. It's no wonder the city is known for its Gemütlichkeit.

Bayern

So, I've lived in Bavaria for about three months now and I've just now ventured into the heart of Old Germany - the spirit and soul of everything anybody ever thinks of when they think of Germany: Munich.

First: Amanda came to visit me as her vacation. She finished school about a week and a half ago, flew here, and will go to work in Dallas a few days after she leaves here. My one-bedroom apartment has suddenly lost all space. I bought an air mattress for her, and it sits between my bed and my desk. This leaves no room for feet, especially when one of us needs to pee in the middle of the night. While I'm in class, she goes shopping, which she loves thoroughly (see blog: everything's so cheap here! These clothes are just what I like! Emily would love this!) Lucky for us, she came during a spell of German holidays - one on thursday, monday, and tuesday. I have class from 8am-10am on friday, but she isn't even ready by then, so we had a 5-day weekend. I told her to meet me at the campus bus stop at 10am, we hauled it to the train station and rode away to Munich.

So there is this great thing called the Bayern Pass. They exist for each of the Bundesländer in Germany (basically, the different "states") It allows you, along with up to 4 other people, to go anywhere within that state for an entire day for 28 euros. This is an incredible deal when you consider the price of gas and even owning a car here. So for 14 euros a piece and 4 hours on a train, we went to Munich. What did we find there? Good-old-fashioned-Bavaria, complete with Lederhosen. I thought this was merely a cheesy tourist thing, but then as we walked more and more through the streets, people actually wore them. Granted, some of them did it for the tourist appeal, such as in the Hofbrauhaus, where a live band played for our own amusement, but as Amanda and I made our way through the city, we realized hordes of people donning their traditional attire. Only too late did we realize that it was because of a Football (American: Soccer) game between the Munich and Milan teams. It was just like any UT football game, except substituting Cowboy outfits with Lederhosen.

We made a trip out to the Munich Olympic Park, which was just amazing. It's one of the coolest locations I've seen in my life. The architecture was so super-sci-fi, yet it serves its function. A+.

We later took a day trip down to Fuessen in the Bavarian Alps to see King Ludwig II's castle: Neuschwanstein. The castles were amazing, but the climb up the mountain wasn't.

Later we went to Nuremburg, which was a big let down. The city was cool to look at, but after about 3 hours, we were tired of the city, so we went back into Wuerzburg.

Friday, we head off to Paris. Whoot Whoot.

Mikrowelle

I've finally gotten a microwave. I've lived here for 2 and a half months surviving on cold food, that which can be made in a pan, or that which can be boiled in a pot. Needless to say, without an oven or microwave and a very small refrigerator, my meals have been pretty bland and unvaried. The story of my acquisition is fun.

I woke up very early today to do my laundry before whisking off to Frankfurt to pick up my much-anticipated visitor. My alarm went off, I threw on some presentable clothing, ran over to the washing machines, shoved my clothes in until no more could fit, paid my high ransom to wash, and pressed "go." It didn't go. Panic ensued. I was running a tight ship - I needed my clothes to wash while I showered, made and ate breakfast, and facebook stalked. After kicking the dumb machine, unplugging it and vainly searching for some alternate solution to make it go, I gave up. I kicked it again.

I decided to take my clothes out and wash them later. I still have at least one day's worth of clothing. Cruel fate ensued. The washer door was already locked, so my clothes were held hostage. No amount of bargaining or force would make the dumb door budge. I guess my persuasion skills aren't very well developed auf Deutsch.

I kicked the machine again.

I huffed and puffed back to my room, checked the flight schedule (to see that it was running two hours late - thank you Chicago O'Hare and your terrible reputation for flight punctuality), so I had two hours to wait for the building superintendent - who should be at work at 7:30 (or so it says on his office door.) He finally showed up - I appealed my case and he worked his magic. Apparently the electricity to the machines was cut off. WTF?

Anyway, in his office there was an array of articles left behind as former tenants evacuated their apartments. Since they're going to bulldoze half of the buildings on my property in the next 6 months or so, many people were forced to move out recently. I asked him if the items were for sale. He said they were free. I grabbed a microwave that didn't look like it was produced in the '70s. It was glorious.

I have yet to test it out. It has turn-dials, but I'm OK with that. I really hope it works well - I would love to eat real, warm food. Hopefully I won't be disappointed and have to kick the dumb thing.

Spargel

It seems like some sci-fi object. Spargel. Beam me up.

Instead, it's asparagus. And it's in season. I've not seen asparagus fever to this extent before. I never thought it would get this bad anywhere. In the US, I've only seen asparagus in the grocery store. It's placed next to other normal vegetables and people grab it when they mistake it for celery or want to stink up a bathroom.

Here, asparagus stands have cropped up. Everywhere. Should you be standing waiting for the bus, you can walk a mere 5 feet and you can fulfill your asparagus craving. It even comes in different varieties. It's like candy! It comes on top of a loaf of pork and they even make a nifty little sauce out of it. Restaurants advertise "Spargel Zeit" in order to entice your patronage.

Has the world gone mad? How could such a banal vegetable receive such celebrity?

I move to celebrate the tomato. I'd much rather have a tomato on top of my pork chop and tomato sauce on top of my pasta.

Topic Change: I have a visitor coming tomorrow. You may follow that blog (with far more wit) here.