Momentary frustration
Extended travel. Mostly amazing; sometimes really tiring. Steph and I are now back on a train, headed to Munich for the third time, this time to catch our flight to the Middle East. We've just spent four days in Berlin, two days in Dresden, four days in Hallstatt and we both pretty much hit our limit. We're tired, we're a little dirty and we're both cranky. At least the train is good for thinking. There is a constant monologue running through my head every time I have a chance to think: 'we have a host for tonight and tomorrow, a room booked for three nights after that - but after that, where are we staying? Should we stay in Salzburg? Back to Munich to play it safe for our flight that day? How much money have I taken out of the ATM this week? What the current Euro conversion rate? My jeans have a hole in them, maybe I should get a new pair. I have had these damn postcards in my backpack for two weeks, I need to find a second to write them. Who should I send postcards to next? I lost a whole batch of cards in the Scotland mail, who knows where they are now. When is the next time I'll have internet to put up a post? I need to find some time and internet to call my mom and my sister, when's that going to happen?'
Like I said, a constant monologue of things I have to do and things I have done. We've met some really amazing people so far, and seen some incredible things. But we're both ready to settle down into a place and stay a while. Mostly just to not have to worry about where we're staying for the night.
In this state of tiredness, I've started compiling a list in my head of things you don't say to your partner first thing in the morning after traveling together for three months. We're slowly learning from our own mistakes…
"eee, you look really tired this morning."
"you got a new pimple last night, huh?"
"we really need to get you a hair cut."
"what's the matter with your eyes?"
Some mornings are glorious. Birds chirping, squirrels are scampering to and fro, Snow White may or may not be heard singing in the distance. But some mornings, the idea of seeing another fabulously ornate castle seems like more of a chore than a pleasure. And those are the mornings that we try to take it slow. Luckily, the last few days have been fantastic, while tiring.
Like I said, a constant monologue of things I have to do and things I have done. We've met some really amazing people so far, and seen some incredible things. But we're both ready to settle down into a place and stay a while. Mostly just to not have to worry about where we're staying for the night.
In this state of tiredness, I've started compiling a list in my head of things you don't say to your partner first thing in the morning after traveling together for three months. We're slowly learning from our own mistakes…
"eee, you look really tired this morning."
"you got a new pimple last night, huh?"
"we really need to get you a hair cut."
"what's the matter with your eyes?"
Some mornings are glorious. Birds chirping, squirrels are scampering to and fro, Snow White may or may not be heard singing in the distance. But some mornings, the idea of seeing another fabulously ornate castle seems like more of a chore than a pleasure. And those are the mornings that we try to take it slow. Luckily, the last few days have been fantastic, while tiring.
"Work will set you free"
Berlin is an amazing city. Probably the first that I would seriously consider living in. I found it so similar to San Francisco or Brooklyn that I instantly felt at home. It helped a bit that we had some amazing couchsurfing hosts to show us around the city. Berlin is basically the hotbed of German history. So much so, in fact, that we spent 7 hours on one day in the German History Museum (and Steph, who looks at every exhibit, ended up taking photos of the last fifty years because she ran out of time - luckily I skim). We went to the Topography of Terror Museum, which is the only one that tells the Nazi side of WWII. It was interesting to read about who those people were, where they came from and why they ended up working for the SS. I went to the Museum at Checkpoint Charlie - the most cluttered museum I've ever been in - and read all about the Berlin Wall. Seriously, the people of Berlin have been through the ringer.
After Berlin it was a quick stop through Dresden where I learned a little bit about orienteering from another couchsurfing host and Steph picked up some new hiking shoes. Then back to Munich, where we had kicked off Germany two weeks ago, and back with the same host. She was amazing again, though we definitely took it a little easier than we did the first time through. We went on a sobering tour of Dachau Concentration Camp and did a brief walk around the city.
Dachau was intense. We splurged on a guided tour led by an American who moved to Germany thirty years ago. It's an interesting thing, really, touring a concentration camp. It's impossible to fully appreciate what happened there, no matter how much time you spend poking around in the different rooms. We walked through the barracks, the showers, the torture rooms, the gas chamber and the crematorium. Dachau wasn't an extermination camp, it was a work camp, so a relatively small number of people died there (34,000). Though I can't imagine seeing anything worse. By the time we were walking through the ovens I basically felt numb, unable to express emotion and was just going through the motions of listening to our guide. Then, as he huddled us around a window to point out a statue outside (it started hailing outside and we took shelter in the crematorium. The irony was not lost on us) something snapped me back to attention. The old man standing next to me was staring with wrapped attention to what the guide was saying - and crying. Chin quivering, steady tears sort of crying. What the guide had been talking about was the memorial for the Unknown Concentration Camp Victim, both dead and alive. It hadn't occurred to me, that particular thought. Our guide explained that often when people got out of the camp they had lost everything - their homes, their families and their friends. In his words, "when they were freed they were nothing, had nothing. Does it really matter who you are or what your name is, if no one on earth knows what it is?" Impossible to imagine what that feels like - I didn't want to try. I instead concentrated on that man. Was he involved in the war at all? Did he have friends that were victims? Family? Maybe, having lived during that time period he could more fully appreciate the atrocities that had happened there. Whatever the case, seeing this strong elderly man that could have been my grandpa crying with such sorrow brought the emotion back around for me. And before I knew it, I was crying also.
After Berlin it was a quick stop through Dresden where I learned a little bit about orienteering from another couchsurfing host and Steph picked up some new hiking shoes. Then back to Munich, where we had kicked off Germany two weeks ago, and back with the same host. She was amazing again, though we definitely took it a little easier than we did the first time through. We went on a sobering tour of Dachau Concentration Camp and did a brief walk around the city.
Dachau was intense. We splurged on a guided tour led by an American who moved to Germany thirty years ago. It's an interesting thing, really, touring a concentration camp. It's impossible to fully appreciate what happened there, no matter how much time you spend poking around in the different rooms. We walked through the barracks, the showers, the torture rooms, the gas chamber and the crematorium. Dachau wasn't an extermination camp, it was a work camp, so a relatively small number of people died there (34,000). Though I can't imagine seeing anything worse. By the time we were walking through the ovens I basically felt numb, unable to express emotion and was just going through the motions of listening to our guide. Then, as he huddled us around a window to point out a statue outside (it started hailing outside and we took shelter in the crematorium. The irony was not lost on us) something snapped me back to attention. The old man standing next to me was staring with wrapped attention to what the guide was saying - and crying. Chin quivering, steady tears sort of crying. What the guide had been talking about was the memorial for the Unknown Concentration Camp Victim, both dead and alive. It hadn't occurred to me, that particular thought. Our guide explained that often when people got out of the camp they had lost everything - their homes, their families and their friends. In his words, "when they were freed they were nothing, had nothing. Does it really matter who you are or what your name is, if no one on earth knows what it is?" Impossible to imagine what that feels like - I didn't want to try. I instead concentrated on that man. Was he involved in the war at all? Did he have friends that were victims? Family? Maybe, having lived during that time period he could more fully appreciate the atrocities that had happened there. Whatever the case, seeing this strong elderly man that could have been my grandpa crying with such sorrow brought the emotion back around for me. And before I knew it, I was crying also.
Brrrr.
After Munich we spent three glorious and nearly inactive days in a little Austrian town called Hallstatt. Hallstatt is a quant town on the edge of a beautiful Austrian lake that once attained fame for its salt production. The salt mine is still in operation, and has a tour so you can see how the salt harvesting has changed over the past 2000 years. Our "bilingual" tour guide would spout on and on in German about what I can only imagine was the history of the mine and the different mining techniques, and then she would follow it up with the English translation with something like, "salt was harvested here." Helpful. The salt tour was nearly all we did in Hallstatt. The day we arrived it started raining. The second day we were there it was snowing. At first I was bummed, my mom had spoken so highly of the place, I had been really looking forward to getting some hikes in - but then, after realizing how tired I was, I was thankful for the couple days of rest. We slept, caught up on movies, the website and some trip planning. A much needed break was a blessing in disguise.
Next will be Israel. I can't believe we are leaving Europe. That means the trip is almost halfway over. I'm excited to see some new and different architectural styles and try some different types of food. Not to mention Europe is the most expensive continent to travel in. Or at least I hope it is.
Here's looking forward to my next entry, full of talk about hummus, falafel, Israeli salad and other delicious delicacies. We have had some amazing food in Europe, but I'm excited to try something new. Until next time, those of you in California go eat a burrito for me.
-EC
Next will be Israel. I can't believe we are leaving Europe. That means the trip is almost halfway over. I'm excited to see some new and different architectural styles and try some different types of food. Not to mention Europe is the most expensive continent to travel in. Or at least I hope it is.
Here's looking forward to my next entry, full of talk about hummus, falafel, Israeli salad and other delicious delicacies. We have had some amazing food in Europe, but I'm excited to try something new. Until next time, those of you in California go eat a burrito for me.
-EC
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