Okay, so overall, Amsterdam wasn’t that bad. I got a good night’s sleep, breakfast was nice, and we were able to get on the road by 8.30. I even managed to put some of my back-logged post-cards in the mail (and now that I’ve bought stamps, more will go out tomorrow).
So, Dad drove us out of Amsterdam, thank god. The commuter traffic combination of bicycles and cars was a nightmare. After we were out of the city, we changed over driving and I drove from the outskirts of the city to Koln (also knows as Cologne). Between traffic, road work, poorly identified signs to the inner-city, it took us about a half hour and a few trips across the river to find parking near the main church in town.
The church in Koln started off as a pilgrimage church and took a few hundred years to build, and was finally completed in the 1800s, only to have to be re-built after WWII. We wandered around the outside of the Church snapping pictures, then went in, only to realize that there was a service being held, so I didn’t feel right taking pictures or milling around in there. We could have climbed to the top of the bell-tower, but since I don’t do well in tight, narrow, steep spaces, I opted to pass and so did Dad. Instead, we found a brew-house turned restaurant (much like the one in the basement of the Rathaus in Munich) for lunch – I had a ½ roasted chicken that put Swiss Chalet to shame and dad had some liver.
We then headed out of Koln, heading for Bingen where we are for the next two nights to we can take a river cruse up the Rhine. On the way here though, we stopped at a small river-side town for a snack and partook in some spaghetti-ice; you see it everywhere in Germany: it starts with a mound of whipped cream, then vanilla ice cream is extruded though a die to make it look like spaghetti and it goes over the whipped cream, then it’s topped with strawberry sauce and some sort of white candy, so you end up with a bowl of sweet pasta-looking yumminess.
Heading into Bingen we passed a couple of hotels in the small village just outside of town (it’s literally a ten minute walk and involves crossing a bridge over a Rhine tributary) and decided to try getting a place here. We ended up with rooms in a 3 story hotel that’s very quaint and old-fashioned, yet has one of the most stable internet connections of our trip so far. After checking in, we walked into Bingen-proper to look into the cruise for tomorrow, find some stamps and have a drink. We then walked back to the village we’re staying in, found a nice, quiet restaurant for a light dinner, then headed back to the hotel.
Tomorrow should be a relaxing day: we get to be tourists without having to drive, and plan on stopping in a couple of little towns with castles for a few hours for some exploration. I’m pretty beat, so it’s early to bed for me tonight. The only problem is that today is the longest day of the year and, being so far north, it’s still full daylight out, and in yesterday was any judge, the sun won’t be going down for another hour. Oh well, I’m so beat, I could probably sleep through anything tonight!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Amster-damn it.
Okay, so Amsterdam has now made my list of cities I’m glad to say I’ve visited, but never really need to go back to (btw, New York is the only other place on that list). Shocking to some, I know, but there you have it.
We left Waterloo this morning at 8am and as soon as we got on the autobahn we hit Monday morning commuter traffic. Getting around Brussels was a bit of a nightmare and the traffic congestion was only made worst by the constant rain. We passed around a few big cities and the rain just kept coming. It doesn’t seem to slow the European drivers down any, but it had me crawling along at a mere 100km/hrs, being passed like I was standing still. By the time we got to the border with the Netherlands, however, the weather had cleared up and was nice and sunny. Because I was a tightly-wound ball of stress by that point, Dad took over driving so got the first taste of Amsterdam surface-street driving, and let’s just I say I don’t envy him the experience.
When we got into town the first thing we wanted to do was go see the building where Anne Frank hid during the Second World War. We weren’t the only ones with that idea and the line up was out the museum and around the block. Since it was about 11.30, we decided to pass momentarily and go back later on in the day with the hopes that the crows would have thinned. (A novel plan for the girl who is usually the first person in line to see important tourist spots.)
Instead, we parked the car and headed into the old(er) part of the city to find a canal cruise company so we could see Amsterdam from the water. It was such a good plan. We got onto this boat, much like the one that goes up and down the canal in Ottawa, and had an hour of sight seeing around the town via the water ways – we even went out into the open harbour.
By then, it was 1ish and I decided it was time for lunch. After stopping at a little café for a quick sandwich and soup, we started walking around the older part of Amsterdam. Which is also the Red Light district. Which isn’t fun when you’re with your dad. This was the part of the trip I was dreading and I think it took Dad about 6 blocks to figure out that a) I wasn’t having fun, b) the old haunts he was looking for weren’t where he remembered them, and c) WE WERE IN THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT AND IT’S CREEPY BEING THERE WITH YOUR DAUGHTER. After passing 2 bordellos (and I know they were bordellos because there were scantily clad Asian ladies standing in the window smiling creepily at us) and almost headed down an even creepier-looking alley, Dad finally realized it was time to go and we headed back to the main square in town.
I was able to pick up some clog-themed souvenirs on our way back to the car, and we also check in on the Anne Frank museum and, while the line was considerably shorter, it was still a trifle long, so we decided to check into our hotel and then go back around 6. We showed up at our hotel (which was actually a bed and breakfast, Dad forgot to mention that to me) to find the front door locked and no one answering the buzzer. A sign on the front door directed us to the hotel 3 doors down if no one answered so we headed there and it, too, was mighty creepy. The guy at reception (which, btw, was in the basement), called the guy who owned the BandB and told us that someone would be right over. When someone did finally show, we found out that they had confused our reservation and had us down for 1 room for 2 nights, rather than 2 rooms for 1 night. The guy at the BandB called his boss, who owns another hotel, and he was able to get us rooms there. What we ended up with is 2 rooms, connected by a hallway with a bathroom off it, and both rooms have sinks and vanities in them. My room has 4 twin beds in it and Dad’s has 3. Since it’s the middle of the week, and judging by the size of our rooms, I’d say they aren’t busy tonight. All in all, things could have gone bad pretty fast, but it all worked out.
After settling in for a while, Dad and I took the tram/street car back into downtown Amsterdam to see Anne Frank’s house. Such a good call. By the time we got there, there was no line up and the crowd was quite sparse, so we got to take our time looking around the place. Going through the museum was harder than going through Dachau. It’s been a while since I’ve read the Diary (and I bought myself a copy at the museum), but I remember enough to still be able to put human beings to the spaces. To make it even harder, they have several taped interviews with people who knew the Franks, and with Otto Frank, about Anne, life in hiding, and what the concentration camps were like. It was really heart-breaking listening to Otto Frank recount his impressions of his daughter from before and after reading her diary – the conclusion he came to was that he never really knew her because the girl from the diary was so different, and so much more complex, than the daughter he lived with. That he never got a change to know the real Anne is an even harder realization to face.
Some of the displays the museum has are really striking. It’s by coincidence, for the most part, that a lot of the documents survive (like post cards the family sent out before going into hiding, or the board game that Peter got as a birthday gift, and Margot’s Latin-by-correspondence lessons) and it’s great, as a historian, to know they’ve been preserved. One of the most poignant displays is the newspaper in which Otto Frank posted a request for information regarding the fate of his daughters – he must know by that point that his wife died since he makes no mention of her – he’s got one inch on a full broad-sheet of so many similar requests. The museum also displays the original diaries and short-stories written by Anne. It’s a great treasure-house for documentation, and it’s great that it’s being preserved. The foundation that is in charge has done a great job with protecting the building – it’s been re-modeled extensively to preserve it – and I’m so glad we went.
After taking a few minutes to recover emotionally from it, Dad and I started headed back to the main square for some dinner. What is one to have in Amsterdam for a true taste of Dutch cuisine? A cone of frites, with mayo, of course. Dad, the man whose car’s center console is a chip wagon condiment warehouse, was bound and determined to get a taste of the Dutch equivalent. We found a little street-front shop that was selling ‘em, got ourselves some paper cones, and found a bench to enjoy them. It was so good – think wide-cut fries, perfectly cooked and seasoned, with a liberal serving of mayo (European ketchup tastes like VH1 oriental sauces to me). After that, we jumped back on the trolley car, came back to our hotel, and are turning in early for a fresh start tomorrow to head back to the Rhine Valley in Germany.
Some observations:
The use of bikes here is astounding! There are more people on bicycles (and scooters) than cars. Everyone and their mother seems to be on bikes and they’re more respectful of sharing the road then we see back home. There are special lanes on the roads and sidewalks just for bikes, so you’ve got to look both ways twice to cross the street to avoid being nailed by either a car or a bike. And they aren’t the mountain/speed bikes we mainly see back home – these have the curved handles so you’re sitting up strait, which must be better for the back. I remember when reading Anne Frank’s diary how she wished to get back outside for a bike ride – at the time I just thought it was the wish of a young person, cooped up in a tight space, but I realized today that bike-riding the central to Amsterdam’s culture, so I now understand that she just wanted to belong to/on the outside again.
Canals: ew. The water is a gross greeny-grey-brown shade and is littered with garbage. When we got on our boat cruise today, Dad had right away grabbed a window seat next to an open window for the breeze. He only had to ask twice if I wanted the window seat before I said yes. Then we were passed by another boat and the wake threw some water up and it came pretty close to hitting me. That’s when Dad giggled a little bit and said something about ‘gottcha.’ Thanks Dad. When I complained that it looked like swamp water, he pointed out that it was worse than swamp water – it was salty swamp water. Ew.
We left Waterloo this morning at 8am and as soon as we got on the autobahn we hit Monday morning commuter traffic. Getting around Brussels was a bit of a nightmare and the traffic congestion was only made worst by the constant rain. We passed around a few big cities and the rain just kept coming. It doesn’t seem to slow the European drivers down any, but it had me crawling along at a mere 100km/hrs, being passed like I was standing still. By the time we got to the border with the Netherlands, however, the weather had cleared up and was nice and sunny. Because I was a tightly-wound ball of stress by that point, Dad took over driving so got the first taste of Amsterdam surface-street driving, and let’s just I say I don’t envy him the experience.
When we got into town the first thing we wanted to do was go see the building where Anne Frank hid during the Second World War. We weren’t the only ones with that idea and the line up was out the museum and around the block. Since it was about 11.30, we decided to pass momentarily and go back later on in the day with the hopes that the crows would have thinned. (A novel plan for the girl who is usually the first person in line to see important tourist spots.)
Instead, we parked the car and headed into the old(er) part of the city to find a canal cruise company so we could see Amsterdam from the water. It was such a good plan. We got onto this boat, much like the one that goes up and down the canal in Ottawa, and had an hour of sight seeing around the town via the water ways – we even went out into the open harbour.
By then, it was 1ish and I decided it was time for lunch. After stopping at a little café for a quick sandwich and soup, we started walking around the older part of Amsterdam. Which is also the Red Light district. Which isn’t fun when you’re with your dad. This was the part of the trip I was dreading and I think it took Dad about 6 blocks to figure out that a) I wasn’t having fun, b) the old haunts he was looking for weren’t where he remembered them, and c) WE WERE IN THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT AND IT’S CREEPY BEING THERE WITH YOUR DAUGHTER. After passing 2 bordellos (and I know they were bordellos because there were scantily clad Asian ladies standing in the window smiling creepily at us) and almost headed down an even creepier-looking alley, Dad finally realized it was time to go and we headed back to the main square in town.
I was able to pick up some clog-themed souvenirs on our way back to the car, and we also check in on the Anne Frank museum and, while the line was considerably shorter, it was still a trifle long, so we decided to check into our hotel and then go back around 6. We showed up at our hotel (which was actually a bed and breakfast, Dad forgot to mention that to me) to find the front door locked and no one answering the buzzer. A sign on the front door directed us to the hotel 3 doors down if no one answered so we headed there and it, too, was mighty creepy. The guy at reception (which, btw, was in the basement), called the guy who owned the BandB and told us that someone would be right over. When someone did finally show, we found out that they had confused our reservation and had us down for 1 room for 2 nights, rather than 2 rooms for 1 night. The guy at the BandB called his boss, who owns another hotel, and he was able to get us rooms there. What we ended up with is 2 rooms, connected by a hallway with a bathroom off it, and both rooms have sinks and vanities in them. My room has 4 twin beds in it and Dad’s has 3. Since it’s the middle of the week, and judging by the size of our rooms, I’d say they aren’t busy tonight. All in all, things could have gone bad pretty fast, but it all worked out.
After settling in for a while, Dad and I took the tram/street car back into downtown Amsterdam to see Anne Frank’s house. Such a good call. By the time we got there, there was no line up and the crowd was quite sparse, so we got to take our time looking around the place. Going through the museum was harder than going through Dachau. It’s been a while since I’ve read the Diary (and I bought myself a copy at the museum), but I remember enough to still be able to put human beings to the spaces. To make it even harder, they have several taped interviews with people who knew the Franks, and with Otto Frank, about Anne, life in hiding, and what the concentration camps were like. It was really heart-breaking listening to Otto Frank recount his impressions of his daughter from before and after reading her diary – the conclusion he came to was that he never really knew her because the girl from the diary was so different, and so much more complex, than the daughter he lived with. That he never got a change to know the real Anne is an even harder realization to face.
Some of the displays the museum has are really striking. It’s by coincidence, for the most part, that a lot of the documents survive (like post cards the family sent out before going into hiding, or the board game that Peter got as a birthday gift, and Margot’s Latin-by-correspondence lessons) and it’s great, as a historian, to know they’ve been preserved. One of the most poignant displays is the newspaper in which Otto Frank posted a request for information regarding the fate of his daughters – he must know by that point that his wife died since he makes no mention of her – he’s got one inch on a full broad-sheet of so many similar requests. The museum also displays the original diaries and short-stories written by Anne. It’s a great treasure-house for documentation, and it’s great that it’s being preserved. The foundation that is in charge has done a great job with protecting the building – it’s been re-modeled extensively to preserve it – and I’m so glad we went.
After taking a few minutes to recover emotionally from it, Dad and I started headed back to the main square for some dinner. What is one to have in Amsterdam for a true taste of Dutch cuisine? A cone of frites, with mayo, of course. Dad, the man whose car’s center console is a chip wagon condiment warehouse, was bound and determined to get a taste of the Dutch equivalent. We found a little street-front shop that was selling ‘em, got ourselves some paper cones, and found a bench to enjoy them. It was so good – think wide-cut fries, perfectly cooked and seasoned, with a liberal serving of mayo (European ketchup tastes like VH1 oriental sauces to me). After that, we jumped back on the trolley car, came back to our hotel, and are turning in early for a fresh start tomorrow to head back to the Rhine Valley in Germany.
Some observations:
The use of bikes here is astounding! There are more people on bicycles (and scooters) than cars. Everyone and their mother seems to be on bikes and they’re more respectful of sharing the road then we see back home. There are special lanes on the roads and sidewalks just for bikes, so you’ve got to look both ways twice to cross the street to avoid being nailed by either a car or a bike. And they aren’t the mountain/speed bikes we mainly see back home – these have the curved handles so you’re sitting up strait, which must be better for the back. I remember when reading Anne Frank’s diary how she wished to get back outside for a bike ride – at the time I just thought it was the wish of a young person, cooped up in a tight space, but I realized today that bike-riding the central to Amsterdam’s culture, so I now understand that she just wanted to belong to/on the outside again.
Canals: ew. The water is a gross greeny-grey-brown shade and is littered with garbage. When we got on our boat cruise today, Dad had right away grabbed a window seat next to an open window for the breeze. He only had to ask twice if I wanted the window seat before I said yes. Then we were passed by another boat and the wake threw some water up and it came pretty close to hitting me. That’s when Dad giggled a little bit and said something about ‘gottcha.’ Thanks Dad. When I complained that it looked like swamp water, he pointed out that it was worse than swamp water – it was salty swamp water. Ew.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
How does it feel that we’ve won the war? Pretty damn good, obviously.
*Yesterday's post below.*
Today was the holy of holies for me. We got to spend the night in Waterloo, then attend a re-enactment of the battle on the actual field where it was fought. I’m a mega-nerd, I know, but couldn’t care less – it was awesome.
We started the morning at 7.30 looking for a light breakfast (because we weren’t going to pay the 15/30 Euros for the buffet breakfast at the hotel) and found a little bakery in the town of Waterloo where I got some sort of yummy pastry and Dad got some mini-rolls and a croissant. We then started driving out to the battle field, which isn’t too far. What we didn’t count on where the hundreds of other people trying to make the same drive. The local police did a really poor job of organizing the traffic in the town, so by the time we were about 1.5km from the site, we decided to park the car in a back alley and walk the rest of the way in. It was only a 10 minute walk, and lots of other people were doing it, but by the time we got to the battle field, we had passed 2 different farmer’s fields that were roped off for parking, but almost empty since people couldn’t drive into the area. Oh well.
Dad had pre-paid for our tickets, so it just remained to turn in our proof-of-payment for wristbands to get into the band-stands, but by this time it was shortly before 9, the battle was supposed to start for 9.30 and people were in a panicky-rush to get to where they were going. The result? I almost got mowed down by a fat Belgian man. Literally, his gut knocked me slightly off balance – but at least I got to practice swearing in French. From the ticket area, we headed into the bandstand area and grabbed seats at the very back and looking up to the ridge that Wellington held during the battle. We had almost 45 minutes to wait since they were late getting started, but from where we were sitting we got a prime view of the French re-enactors organizing themselves behind our bandstand.
Two big problems with the whole affair: 1- it rained on and off through the entire thing, bad enough to need an umbrella. 2- We were stuck sitting behind people who stood through most of the battle. And that wasn’t a common occurrence – in the entire bandstand they were pretty much the only ones doing it, which meant that we had to stand to. The complete lack of consideration and awareness of surroundings was the main characteristics of these 4 jerks and at several points I tugged on sleeves asking them to step down off their seats so we could see.
After the battle, we left the sight to drive back into Waterloo for lunch. We spent less than an hour in the village, then headed back out to the site since our wrist bands got us into the other attractions there. It was such a good idea that we left, because by the time we had gotten back the crowds had thinned out considerably, but it was still really busy. We wandered up the Waterloo monument for a view of the surrounding fields, through the gift shops, and at a couple of other attractions in the town. As we were heading out, the event staff was breaking down their security barriers which were all covered in signs announcing the re-enactment. We saw one of the staff pitch a sign to guy walking past and I asked if I could have one too, and they were totally cool with that! So, my favorite souvenir of the trip so far is a 1.5m X 0.5m felt sign for the battle of Waterloo re-construction. Such a good find!
Since it was only 3ish, we decided to save ourselves some time tomorrow and drive into Brussels today. Such a good idea. With the late afternoon-Sunday traffic, it was no problem getting in and out of there. Unfortunately, we didn’t find the touristy shops I wanted to find for postcards and stamps, so my Belgium postcards are going to have German post-marks on them. On our way out of town, our GPS sent us through the skeeziest, sketchiest part of town – the kind of places that you couldn’t pay me to get out and walk around in. It was a real contrast from the big-businesses and royal palaces we past on the way in.
Back to the hotel, dinner for 7, and then off to Amsterdam tomorrow!
Today was the holy of holies for me. We got to spend the night in Waterloo, then attend a re-enactment of the battle on the actual field where it was fought. I’m a mega-nerd, I know, but couldn’t care less – it was awesome.
We started the morning at 7.30 looking for a light breakfast (because we weren’t going to pay the 15/30 Euros for the buffet breakfast at the hotel) and found a little bakery in the town of Waterloo where I got some sort of yummy pastry and Dad got some mini-rolls and a croissant. We then started driving out to the battle field, which isn’t too far. What we didn’t count on where the hundreds of other people trying to make the same drive. The local police did a really poor job of organizing the traffic in the town, so by the time we were about 1.5km from the site, we decided to park the car in a back alley and walk the rest of the way in. It was only a 10 minute walk, and lots of other people were doing it, but by the time we got to the battle field, we had passed 2 different farmer’s fields that were roped off for parking, but almost empty since people couldn’t drive into the area. Oh well.
Dad had pre-paid for our tickets, so it just remained to turn in our proof-of-payment for wristbands to get into the band-stands, but by this time it was shortly before 9, the battle was supposed to start for 9.30 and people were in a panicky-rush to get to where they were going. The result? I almost got mowed down by a fat Belgian man. Literally, his gut knocked me slightly off balance – but at least I got to practice swearing in French. From the ticket area, we headed into the bandstand area and grabbed seats at the very back and looking up to the ridge that Wellington held during the battle. We had almost 45 minutes to wait since they were late getting started, but from where we were sitting we got a prime view of the French re-enactors organizing themselves behind our bandstand.
Two big problems with the whole affair: 1- it rained on and off through the entire thing, bad enough to need an umbrella. 2- We were stuck sitting behind people who stood through most of the battle. And that wasn’t a common occurrence – in the entire bandstand they were pretty much the only ones doing it, which meant that we had to stand to. The complete lack of consideration and awareness of surroundings was the main characteristics of these 4 jerks and at several points I tugged on sleeves asking them to step down off their seats so we could see.
After the battle, we left the sight to drive back into Waterloo for lunch. We spent less than an hour in the village, then headed back out to the site since our wrist bands got us into the other attractions there. It was such a good idea that we left, because by the time we had gotten back the crowds had thinned out considerably, but it was still really busy. We wandered up the Waterloo monument for a view of the surrounding fields, through the gift shops, and at a couple of other attractions in the town. As we were heading out, the event staff was breaking down their security barriers which were all covered in signs announcing the re-enactment. We saw one of the staff pitch a sign to guy walking past and I asked if I could have one too, and they were totally cool with that! So, my favorite souvenir of the trip so far is a 1.5m X 0.5m felt sign for the battle of Waterloo re-construction. Such a good find!
Since it was only 3ish, we decided to save ourselves some time tomorrow and drive into Brussels today. Such a good idea. With the late afternoon-Sunday traffic, it was no problem getting in and out of there. Unfortunately, we didn’t find the touristy shops I wanted to find for postcards and stamps, so my Belgium postcards are going to have German post-marks on them. On our way out of town, our GPS sent us through the skeeziest, sketchiest part of town – the kind of places that you couldn’t pay me to get out and walk around in. It was a real contrast from the big-businesses and royal palaces we past on the way in.
Back to the hotel, dinner for 7, and then off to Amsterdam tomorrow!
A very long, but light day.
Not much to report about today. We were ready to leave Munich for 8ish, and would have made that, except we had a bit of a scare – Dad had buried his passport in his luggage, forget where he put it, and was convinced it was lost. We spent about 15 minutes tearing apart the car looking for it before it finally turned up in a little pocket of his lap-top case (along with the parking pass we thought we’d lost in Salzburg and had to pay 15 Euros to replace). Lesson learnt: I think Dad will now staple that passport to his forehead just to be safe.
So, we left Munich around 8.30 and started heading North for Waterloo. It was a really long day of driving, and we didn’t get into town here until about 7pm. The driving was pretty boring, except it seemed like I got to drive through all the rain and to the point where we needed to gas up – it was really whiley of Dad to plan things that way.
Around 1 we had passed Frankfurt and were heading along a smaller high-way looking for a another autobahn when we got caught up in a detour, and that was a good thing! We passed through this little town that we would have skipped over altogether if the highway hadn’t been closed and found a small beirhall that was serving lunch. Dad and I both ordered a small snitzle and it came out covering about half a 14” plate and were both glad we hadn’t ordered the big one!
By 3 were had passed from Germany into Luxemburg. Another detour (this one less convenient) took us into the country side and the wine fields to see rural Luxemburg. Finding the fast highway we headed to the capital city (Luxemburg – original, I know) and got some quick pictures of some fancy looking buildings. What they were, I’m not entirely sure, but given the change, I’d definitely visit again. We then started heading back for the autobahns and drove through suburban Luxemburg. So, in an hour we got to see the agricultural staple, the country side, the capital city and the suburban environs of a country. What did you accomplish today? ;-)
From Luxemburg, it was a quick jaunt into Belgium and onto Waterloo. We got a little lost along the way (and I got to take a tour of both Charleroi airport AND ghetto Belgium trying to get to the city), so I was super glad we had sprung for the GPS system in the car. After booting up Annoying Helga (as we’ve named her) it was simple enough to find our hotel. This weekend is big business for the region, so Dad is expecting to be nickled and dimed everywhere and he’s probably right. Because we got into town so late, it was 8 before we were able to find a place for dinner – and Dad chose Pizza Hut. Service was crap, but I FINALLY got to use my French, so it wasn’t that bad. It was then back to the room for a quick shower, some FIFA (there’s nothing else on and internet connection isn’t free) and then early to bed. Up at 7 tomorrow, out of the hotel by 7.30, and to the battle field by 8.30. Can’t wait!
So, we left Munich around 8.30 and started heading North for Waterloo. It was a really long day of driving, and we didn’t get into town here until about 7pm. The driving was pretty boring, except it seemed like I got to drive through all the rain and to the point where we needed to gas up – it was really whiley of Dad to plan things that way.
Around 1 we had passed Frankfurt and were heading along a smaller high-way looking for a another autobahn when we got caught up in a detour, and that was a good thing! We passed through this little town that we would have skipped over altogether if the highway hadn’t been closed and found a small beirhall that was serving lunch. Dad and I both ordered a small snitzle and it came out covering about half a 14” plate and were both glad we hadn’t ordered the big one!
By 3 were had passed from Germany into Luxemburg. Another detour (this one less convenient) took us into the country side and the wine fields to see rural Luxemburg. Finding the fast highway we headed to the capital city (Luxemburg – original, I know) and got some quick pictures of some fancy looking buildings. What they were, I’m not entirely sure, but given the change, I’d definitely visit again. We then started heading back for the autobahns and drove through suburban Luxemburg. So, in an hour we got to see the agricultural staple, the country side, the capital city and the suburban environs of a country. What did you accomplish today? ;-)
From Luxemburg, it was a quick jaunt into Belgium and onto Waterloo. We got a little lost along the way (and I got to take a tour of both Charleroi airport AND ghetto Belgium trying to get to the city), so I was super glad we had sprung for the GPS system in the car. After booting up Annoying Helga (as we’ve named her) it was simple enough to find our hotel. This weekend is big business for the region, so Dad is expecting to be nickled and dimed everywhere and he’s probably right. Because we got into town so late, it was 8 before we were able to find a place for dinner – and Dad chose Pizza Hut. Service was crap, but I FINALLY got to use my French, so it wasn’t that bad. It was then back to the room for a quick shower, some FIFA (there’s nothing else on and internet connection isn’t free) and then early to bed. Up at 7 tomorrow, out of the hotel by 7.30, and to the battle field by 8.30. Can’t wait!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Munich a go-go.
This morning was supposed to be a slow-start morning. When Dad told me that, I almost clapped my hands with glee and proceeded to take him very seriously. It was 9am and he was knocking on my door asking if I were ready for breakfast – in reality, he woke me up. So, we’re even. Since I was rushed, I didn’t have much of an appetite for breakfast, but that was okay, and I’ll explain why below.
We left the hotel around 10 and started wandering around the old city again. We just aimlessly browsed the side streets, looking at churches, interesting architecture, and big-name American stores housed in really old buildings. Dad wanted to be back in the Marianplaz for 11 to see the glockenspiel at the Rathaus. There is a café on the fifth floor of the building that is right across from the Rathaus that Dad had patronized before, so we arranged to be there shortly before 11. When we rolled in, the place was busy, but we were able to snag a table with a decent view of the glockenspiel. Dad had a coffee and croissant, while I had a tea and an apple strudel with vanilla cream (trés yummy, btw, and totally made up for my lack of breakfast). Unfortunately, no one else seemed that interested in the glockenspiel, so the chiming of the bells that accompanies the life-size dancing figurines was drowned out. (Okay, not familiar with a glockenspiel? Picture a really big coo-coo clock, built into the side of a building.) I got some video on it, but unfortunately, the only sound you get is the busy restaurant. Oh well, we tried. Now we know that the experience might be better from the platz!
After that, we started heading to the English Gardens in Munich. Unfortunately, the weather has been crappy again, and it was drizzling lightly by then. On the way to the gardens, Dad wanted to stop at the Rezidence here in Munich – the former palace of the Bavarian rules. We wandered around the treasury museum (like the one at the Tower of London, but German) and then the actual residence. Very beautiful, but by the end of it, my feet were killing me and my mood was starting to sour. When we were finished, I was all set to get back to the hotel, but Dad insisted I get to see the English Gardens since it was the only concrete thing to do on my Munich list. But now it wasn’t drizzling so much as raining. We got the Gardens, but only walked through a teeny-tiny part of it, so I missed out on the Pagoda and tea-house. But I look at it this way: 1) gotta’ save something for the next trip, and 2) I was in London last year and got to see lots of gardens, pagodas and tea houses.
After this, we started to head back to our hotel, but stopped for lunch at a café on the way back. Little did we know that Germany was playing a world cup game today and, as we walked in, we were greeted by all the wait staff huddled around a TV watching the game. In a really good-naturedly begrudging kind of way we ordered a light lunch, and I stopped in the confectionary for some little cookie sandwiches on the way out. Now it wasn’t so much raining and lightly pouring. We started to head back to the hotel at a fast clip and got in around 4.
Dad and I had arranged to meet for dinner in the lobby at 7, and by that time the rain had stopped, but the wind picked up so it was pretty chilly. We headed back into the old city to find Dad a restaurant that serves chicken (he’s been eating a lot of pork lately, since that seems to be the staple meat in most of Germany), but it was impossible. We ended up eating in the basement/cellar of the Rathaus. We had found a restaurant very much like last night’s Hofbrau restaurant, but this one seemed to be full of locals rather than tourists. After we ate, we started trying to find our way out of the place only to realize that the entire basement of the Rathaus has been converted to various restaurants – we ate in the beer hall, but we also passed a wine-bar, a family restaurant, a pub, and a swanky joint before finally finding a set of stairs out. It’s all the same company that runs these places (I gathered), but they cater to everyone’s needs (including a quick canteen style restaurant on the ground floor that was closed when we went by).
Well, tomorrow is going to be a long day I’m told – we’ve got to make it from Munich to the fields of Waterloo, and that should take about 8 hours. We’re going to be more conscious about sharing the driving tomorrow so neither of us gets tuckered out, but it’s still going to be a long haul.
We left the hotel around 10 and started wandering around the old city again. We just aimlessly browsed the side streets, looking at churches, interesting architecture, and big-name American stores housed in really old buildings. Dad wanted to be back in the Marianplaz for 11 to see the glockenspiel at the Rathaus. There is a café on the fifth floor of the building that is right across from the Rathaus that Dad had patronized before, so we arranged to be there shortly before 11. When we rolled in, the place was busy, but we were able to snag a table with a decent view of the glockenspiel. Dad had a coffee and croissant, while I had a tea and an apple strudel with vanilla cream (trés yummy, btw, and totally made up for my lack of breakfast). Unfortunately, no one else seemed that interested in the glockenspiel, so the chiming of the bells that accompanies the life-size dancing figurines was drowned out. (Okay, not familiar with a glockenspiel? Picture a really big coo-coo clock, built into the side of a building.) I got some video on it, but unfortunately, the only sound you get is the busy restaurant. Oh well, we tried. Now we know that the experience might be better from the platz!
After that, we started heading to the English Gardens in Munich. Unfortunately, the weather has been crappy again, and it was drizzling lightly by then. On the way to the gardens, Dad wanted to stop at the Rezidence here in Munich – the former palace of the Bavarian rules. We wandered around the treasury museum (like the one at the Tower of London, but German) and then the actual residence. Very beautiful, but by the end of it, my feet were killing me and my mood was starting to sour. When we were finished, I was all set to get back to the hotel, but Dad insisted I get to see the English Gardens since it was the only concrete thing to do on my Munich list. But now it wasn’t drizzling so much as raining. We got the Gardens, but only walked through a teeny-tiny part of it, so I missed out on the Pagoda and tea-house. But I look at it this way: 1) gotta’ save something for the next trip, and 2) I was in London last year and got to see lots of gardens, pagodas and tea houses.
After this, we started to head back to our hotel, but stopped for lunch at a café on the way back. Little did we know that Germany was playing a world cup game today and, as we walked in, we were greeted by all the wait staff huddled around a TV watching the game. In a really good-naturedly begrudging kind of way we ordered a light lunch, and I stopped in the confectionary for some little cookie sandwiches on the way out. Now it wasn’t so much raining and lightly pouring. We started to head back to the hotel at a fast clip and got in around 4.
Dad and I had arranged to meet for dinner in the lobby at 7, and by that time the rain had stopped, but the wind picked up so it was pretty chilly. We headed back into the old city to find Dad a restaurant that serves chicken (he’s been eating a lot of pork lately, since that seems to be the staple meat in most of Germany), but it was impossible. We ended up eating in the basement/cellar of the Rathaus. We had found a restaurant very much like last night’s Hofbrau restaurant, but this one seemed to be full of locals rather than tourists. After we ate, we started trying to find our way out of the place only to realize that the entire basement of the Rathaus has been converted to various restaurants – we ate in the beer hall, but we also passed a wine-bar, a family restaurant, a pub, and a swanky joint before finally finding a set of stairs out. It’s all the same company that runs these places (I gathered), but they cater to everyone’s needs (including a quick canteen style restaurant on the ground floor that was closed when we went by).
Well, tomorrow is going to be a long day I’m told – we’ve got to make it from Munich to the fields of Waterloo, and that should take about 8 hours. We’re going to be more conscious about sharing the driving tomorrow so neither of us gets tuckered out, but it’s still going to be a long haul.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
An addendum…
We just got back from supper and what an experience. Dad wanted to go to the Hofbrauhaus – an establishment that has been part of Munich since 1589. We walked through the old city (with the occasional raindrops) to the joint. We walked in and I wasn’t sure I would make it – the place was HUGE and LOUD and full of oompa music and drunk football fans (the menu says the restaurant will fit 3,500 at one time). But I’m kind of glad we stayed.
The place is an old fashioned beer hall – there are long tables and you grab whatever free space you can find. We ended up sitting at a table with three older guys, one of them was a serious regular. How do I know this? He had his own stein. Apparently, the regulars (and I mean the honest-to-god-come-so-often-it’s-more-like-home-than-home kind of regulars) have a place to lock up their own beer mugs which the wait-staff with fetch and fill with Hof Brau (the in-house brew) upon request.
Dad had only wanted a light supper, but I think he got caught up in the atmosphere of the joint. He ordered a large beer (roughly a half-liter) and a slice of roast pork with potato dumplings that could have served as my lunch and supper. I, on the other hand, finally ordered a mix cola – half coke, half lemonade – a bowl of homemade, cream of veggie soup and the bread basket, which came with a role, some brown bread and a couple of pretzels. I even asked for some mustered on the side – now, I’m not a mustard and pretzel kinda’ gal, but it’s Baveria and I just rolled with it. Besides, not ordering a beer was bad enough, I didn’t want them tossing me out over not liking pretzels with mustard.
After dinner, Dad struck up a conversation with the guys sitting at our table and we had a nice chat with one of the guys. He was telling us about his travels in Canada (he only knows of Ottawa because it’s close to Montreal) and about good places to go in Germany/Austria. By the time my sensor-overload had reached the max, we waived down the very hassled waitress for our bill. This was the point where I unabashedly stole a menu. What was I supposed to do?! It has the history of the place on the back, and it was too cool to pass up! Besides, the regular with his own stein saw me do it and nodded that it was okay – that’s as close to officialdom as it gets, as far as I’m concerned.
Would I do it again? Probably not on a FIFA night, after 8 when it’s packed. But I’m glad I went and got to experience an old-school beer hall!
The most depressing day. Ever.
Well, last night was probably the best rest I’ve gotten so far. Our hotel rooms looked over a street that boasted 3 different bars, but the combination of lack of sleep from the night before and the gravol to sooth the still queasy stomach helped put me out and keep me out for about 10 hours (the only interruption was the charley horse around 3.30, but even then, I fell back asleep right away). After a nice simple breakfast of rolls and spreads (and some broo-ha-ha about a lost parking card), Dad and I got on the road for Munich (or Munchen as the Germans call it) around 9 and got to the outskirts of the city around 11.30.
Rather that head straight into town, we went out to Dachau first. I knew it would be hard, but it hit both Dad and I, and I don’t think we said more than a dozen things to each other over the almost 3 hours we were there. Admission and parking are free, and the purpose of the camp is to encourage people to never forget the depths that humans can sink to to destroy each other. We walked though the prison block, but only made it about a quarter of the way through it before we both decided we’d seen enough. (This is where criminals and ‘special prisoners’ – ie – those deserving better treatment than the common prisoners – were held.) We then started walking down the main camp road, along the foundations of the 34 barracks, to the end of the camp and then into the crematorium area. We then wandered back to the camp’s old administration area to see a documentary about the history of all concentration camps, and in particular Dachau.
Dachau had originally been designed to quarter only a few thousand people (and at those numbers, it was meant to be uncomfortable), but by the end of the war, 30,0000 people were housed there. Never a full-blown extermination camp, Dachau was a work camp that did have the ability to use a gas chamber (only 1) and operate 4-6 ovens at a time. By all accounts (and historians don’t know why), Dachau never became a full-on extermination camp – rather, those slatted to die were generally sent to other camps. The main exception to this rule appears to be Soviet POWs, as they were general executed on site then the bodies were cremated. (Historians have been unable to determine just how many Soviets were killed at the camp.) There is some evidence that Dachau was used for experimenting with execution methods, which might explain why there was only one (reasonably small) gas chamber. Dachau was the first of the concentration camps and set the tone for those that followed. The purpose was the work its inmates to death, either in the agricultural fields or the armament factories. The rations were purposely designed to starve inmates to death.
I couple things stood out that are worth sharing. First, the camp feels tiny, even with all the barracks pulled down. I can’t begin to imagine how 30 thousand people lived in such a small space. Two of the barracks have been reconstructed, including the bunks, sinks and toilets that were used. As the camp became increasingly crowded, they went from housing 50+ people in a room (and figure 4 rooms to a barrack) to over a thousand (and, in some cases, where certain races were housed together, it was almost closer to 2,000). Bunks ceased to be divided into individual sections, and rather you’d get long tri-level bunks without any dividers that spanned the length of the room. There were only 8-10 toilets per barracks, and only 2 large, round sinks. The re-built barrack shows you room-by-room what living conditions were like in various years and the last room literally took my breath away.
The other think that struck me was the ground itself. The paths are covered in pebbles, rather than paving. I wore flats today and at one point, thought how uncomfortable walking around the camp on that terrain was. Then I told myself to shut the fuck up. I’m not sure if that was the original condition of the grounds, but either way, a couple of hours walking around, a little uncomfortable, is NOTHING compared to what had been endured at that site and I need to remember that.
Finally, there were lots of school group there; some of the kids looked upset, some weren’t paying enough due respect, but they were all over the age of needing to be asses when they were with their friends, so it wasn’t so bad having them milling about. The site museum is not recommended for anyone under the age of 12. The exhibits aren’t that bad – they show the progression of the Nazi party and the building of the camp, and some of the conditions. But the documentary film we saw definitely wasn’t appropriate for younger ages. It appears to have been made in the 50s/60s, and shows a lot of old photos and film reels of the camp while it was in operation. It’s really shocking to the senses to see emaciated and/or dead bodies being carted about like trash – it’s not something that’s easily forgotten.
What one takes away from the camp is a reminder of just how low humans can sink. The purpose of keeping the camp open and free to visitors is to remind them of the situation so that something like that never happens again. And yet, it’s still happening, just in different ways in different continents. Remember that as bad as the Jews had it in Nazi Germany, the women of the Sudan and Rwanda are being treated just as horribly. Bosnians, not too long ago, were still killing neighbors over religion. And prisoners at Guantanamo Bay are being held in conditions that, maybe not surpass, but certainly remind one of the torture that went on in the camps. It’s noble to want to remember the Holocaust, but more people should be forced to learn and experience it first hand, so that the message the survivors demand we learn is spread far and wide: Never Again.
Needless to say, it was a really depressing afternoon. When we left the village of Dachau, we headed into Munich to check into our hotel. Because we were at the camp at such an odd time, it was almost 4 before we had a chance to have some lunch. Dad and I both had a light snack and plan on going out tonight for a late dinner. As I sit here, there is thunder and lightening outside, but hopefully it’ll let up when we’re ready to go out. We’ll be in Munich for the next two nights.
Rather that head straight into town, we went out to Dachau first. I knew it would be hard, but it hit both Dad and I, and I don’t think we said more than a dozen things to each other over the almost 3 hours we were there. Admission and parking are free, and the purpose of the camp is to encourage people to never forget the depths that humans can sink to to destroy each other. We walked though the prison block, but only made it about a quarter of the way through it before we both decided we’d seen enough. (This is where criminals and ‘special prisoners’ – ie – those deserving better treatment than the common prisoners – were held.) We then started walking down the main camp road, along the foundations of the 34 barracks, to the end of the camp and then into the crematorium area. We then wandered back to the camp’s old administration area to see a documentary about the history of all concentration camps, and in particular Dachau.
Dachau had originally been designed to quarter only a few thousand people (and at those numbers, it was meant to be uncomfortable), but by the end of the war, 30,0000 people were housed there. Never a full-blown extermination camp, Dachau was a work camp that did have the ability to use a gas chamber (only 1) and operate 4-6 ovens at a time. By all accounts (and historians don’t know why), Dachau never became a full-on extermination camp – rather, those slatted to die were generally sent to other camps. The main exception to this rule appears to be Soviet POWs, as they were general executed on site then the bodies were cremated. (Historians have been unable to determine just how many Soviets were killed at the camp.) There is some evidence that Dachau was used for experimenting with execution methods, which might explain why there was only one (reasonably small) gas chamber. Dachau was the first of the concentration camps and set the tone for those that followed. The purpose was the work its inmates to death, either in the agricultural fields or the armament factories. The rations were purposely designed to starve inmates to death.
I couple things stood out that are worth sharing. First, the camp feels tiny, even with all the barracks pulled down. I can’t begin to imagine how 30 thousand people lived in such a small space. Two of the barracks have been reconstructed, including the bunks, sinks and toilets that were used. As the camp became increasingly crowded, they went from housing 50+ people in a room (and figure 4 rooms to a barrack) to over a thousand (and, in some cases, where certain races were housed together, it was almost closer to 2,000). Bunks ceased to be divided into individual sections, and rather you’d get long tri-level bunks without any dividers that spanned the length of the room. There were only 8-10 toilets per barracks, and only 2 large, round sinks. The re-built barrack shows you room-by-room what living conditions were like in various years and the last room literally took my breath away.
The other think that struck me was the ground itself. The paths are covered in pebbles, rather than paving. I wore flats today and at one point, thought how uncomfortable walking around the camp on that terrain was. Then I told myself to shut the fuck up. I’m not sure if that was the original condition of the grounds, but either way, a couple of hours walking around, a little uncomfortable, is NOTHING compared to what had been endured at that site and I need to remember that.
Finally, there were lots of school group there; some of the kids looked upset, some weren’t paying enough due respect, but they were all over the age of needing to be asses when they were with their friends, so it wasn’t so bad having them milling about. The site museum is not recommended for anyone under the age of 12. The exhibits aren’t that bad – they show the progression of the Nazi party and the building of the camp, and some of the conditions. But the documentary film we saw definitely wasn’t appropriate for younger ages. It appears to have been made in the 50s/60s, and shows a lot of old photos and film reels of the camp while it was in operation. It’s really shocking to the senses to see emaciated and/or dead bodies being carted about like trash – it’s not something that’s easily forgotten.
What one takes away from the camp is a reminder of just how low humans can sink. The purpose of keeping the camp open and free to visitors is to remind them of the situation so that something like that never happens again. And yet, it’s still happening, just in different ways in different continents. Remember that as bad as the Jews had it in Nazi Germany, the women of the Sudan and Rwanda are being treated just as horribly. Bosnians, not too long ago, were still killing neighbors over religion. And prisoners at Guantanamo Bay are being held in conditions that, maybe not surpass, but certainly remind one of the torture that went on in the camps. It’s noble to want to remember the Holocaust, but more people should be forced to learn and experience it first hand, so that the message the survivors demand we learn is spread far and wide: Never Again.
Needless to say, it was a really depressing afternoon. When we left the village of Dachau, we headed into Munich to check into our hotel. Because we were at the camp at such an odd time, it was almost 4 before we had a chance to have some lunch. Dad and I both had a light snack and plan on going out tonight for a late dinner. As I sit here, there is thunder and lightening outside, but hopefully it’ll let up when we’re ready to go out. We’ll be in Munich for the next two nights.
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