Tourgasm with Pecos, part I: Dresden

Sheer delight is not a phrase most people use when describing the feeling they get when they enter a hostel room. Hostel rooms are pretty much known throughout this planet (and that other potentially habitable earth-like planet they just found 5 billion light years away) as low-budget smell caves where 16 drunk college-aged Americans yelling “OH YEAH! SPRING BREAK! HOP ON BOARD THE DRUNK TRAIN! WOOOWOOOO!!” cram into a room to “sleep.”

On occasion, though, some hostel rooms are delightful. Clean. Functional. Free of college-aged nocturnal beasts (who are found commonly throughout the major metropolitan areas of Europe).

The hostel room we stayed at in Dresden was just that. And it was apparently a harbinger for other delightful hostel rooms. Here you can see why.

Without any prior notice, Kate and I entered our room to find a car with a bed in it. A real car. And a real mattress. The car was a Trabant, the most common vehicle in the former East Germany, known for being compact, fast, durable, and smoky (thanks to the poor performance of its poorly made two-stroke engine). And although we didn’t sleep in it because there were two beds in the loft above, the bed was comfortable, allowing Pecos and me to nap for a couple minutes early in the evening.

After coming down from the silliness high of HAVING A FLIPPING CAR IN THE ROOM, we realized we had just spent five hours starting this tour of Eastern Germany and Poland, so we might as well go out there and have fun.
Our hostel was in the Neustadt (new city), the less-touristy region north of the Elbe River known for NOT being the Altstadt (old city). It’s here where the locals go to shop, eat, drink, drink, and drink some more. There are 50 bars per square kilometer, almost ensuring something for everyone’s taste. Although it’s call the Neustadt, it’s still very old, with cobblestone streets and a varied array of architectural styles (mostly because the city was so heavily bombed in World War II).

So, unaware of all this, Kate and I went out into the city at night ostensibly to eat Döner kebabs and walk around. We found lots of young, urban, hip, perhaps a little punky people drinking on the street, watching the crowds go by, smoking, dancing, and eating at outdoor cafes. It was a Wednesday night, but it felt like a Saturday.
But, as we’re already old bags whose idea of a wild night is to have a glass of wine when we sit on our sofa watching Lost, we merely ate our kebabs and called it a night.

The next morning, we ventured down the shop-lined main street (Hauptstrasse), which was in the middle of hosting a pretty tame but good natured Fruehlings Fest (spring fest). This meant there were tons of small booths selling local wares, baked goods, sausage, and commercial commodities such as yummy processed fish sandwiches. Yay for processed fish! Then, on past a shiny statue of August the somebody we went, crossing over the Elbe River on the Augustbrücke and into the famed Altstadt.

Dresden’s Altstadt is famous. Maybe not to you and me, but once upon a time (between 1660 and the 1820s) it was one of the most touristed destinations in Europe thanks to its having a lasting spot on the “hot list” for European travelers’ itineraries then. Rich tourists then, particularly young British upperclassmen, usually took year-long educational rites of passage where they’d travel the continent learning about culture, aristocracy, fashion, and on very special occasions, schnapps.

To those of us who lived most of our lives after the two world wars, Dresden is known as one of the most horribly and controversially bombed cities during the war.

Here’s a pic I found of the main church in Dresden (the Frauenkirche) after the war.

And here it is today (with me in front, of course).

Here are some other ruins.

And here are some reconstructed buildings.

As you can see, the city has been restored to prewar (i.e., mostly Baroque) splendor and is beautiful. Kate and I compared it both to Prague (incontestably gorgeous) and Vienna (our favorite city) while there. Unfortunately for Dresden, the entire city smelled like pickles. Seriously. Pickles.

Other than the famous Frauenkirche, we walked around two other important and impressive sights. The first was the royal castle, once home to August the somebody (Strong, I think…King of Poland). Due to repeated additions, the castle has integrated elements of the Renaissance, Baroque and Classicist styles and was semi-fun.

The second was the Zwinger Palace, across the road from the castle, which has been converted to a center for the royal art collections and a place to hold festivals. It even had a moat and a golden-crown-topped gate! (This is the first image, btw).

Moat aside and HUGE CROWN aside, we both thought it was incredibly impressive, with a sandy walking area in the center and carved paths of well maintained green grass on the outside. From ground level, the paths looked snaky and weird. But from above, the paths formed intricate and beautiful designs.

Well, by that time, Pecos was hot, I was going blind from forgetting my sunglasses in the car, and Kate was eager to get on the road to start our three-hour border-crossing transit to our next destination, the completely unpronounceable Wrocław, Poland.

For about 500 years it was German territory and they called it Breslau. After WWII, though, the Slav beneficiaries – who were never too keen on simple words – were unaware that the simpler the name of a city is for foreigners to say, the more likely it is to get tourists (Paris, London, etc. vs. Tlaquepaque, Shijiazhuang). So, they changed it to Wrocław (complete with the funny looking L). This is pronounced VROT-swof and that city will be part II.

Life without Schlumpy

The train of life trudges on here. After our raucous bout with a stinky homeless varmint named Schlumpy, things have been pretty tame ‘round these parts.

After work on Friday, Kate and I cooked up some tasty Spanish food (paellas, empanadas, flan, etc.) and invited some friends over to play games. Our goal was to get our unaware guests tanked on vino and cervesa and then whup their asses in board games. Unfortunately, although I thought the idea we had concocted was pretty sound, our playing abilities that night started out dismally, with both Kate and I poorly representing our strategic thinking skills in the first game of the night, the Settlers of Cataan.

The flan and coffee after the loss must have reenergized our abilities somehow, because Kate and I had the best showing in the history of the game of Trivial Pursuit later on, with us collecting all the pie pieces and landing in the center before anyone else had even rolled the dice. Yes, it’s true. We are gods. GODS of Trivia! Thou Shalt Fear Our Random Knowledge!!! The Capital of North Dakota is BISMARK! The Actress Known for Her Ability to Master Almost Any Accent is Merryl Streep!

On Saturday, Kate had a Girl’s Night at a friends’ place where they tried Oprah’s new martini recipe and talked about shopping while I partook in a Man’s Night consisting of drinking massive amounts of beer, vociferously critiquing the local women, and eating pizza.

Sunday had us at Linda and Jay’s for a relaxing evening of Asian stir-fry and a complicated French board game called “Metro.”

Right now we’re excited about our upcoming trip to Poland. Here’s a picture of Pecos to tide you over until we’re back.

Homeward Bound - Schlumpy Style

After a relatively peaceful night broken only by intermittant Pecos barks whenever a whiff of Schlumpy wafted in the room, I woke Schlumpy up to take him to the pound. Although I didn't notice it at the time, my ride to the pound was much quicker than normal due to the lack of cars on the road.

Only later, when Schlumpy and I actually arrived at the pound to find it closed, did we both realize it was a German holiday and that everything is closed today. I was disappointed because I wanted him to be reunited with his owner, like today, and the pound seemed like the vehicle that would facilitate the reunion. I was also a bit disappointed because I had already cleaned up three pee puddles in the hallway and I could think of better ways to spend my day.

Motivated by a selfish desire to get rid of the stinky beast, we made up a "Found Dog" poster and went back to the town where we found him after Justin got out of work. After driving around and asking pedestrians if they knew him (no one did) we got out of the car to search on foot.

We started our search where we found Schlumpy last night, a children's school right next to some private garden plots. Although at first Schlumpy led on in his usual unaware mode, within minutes he seemed to know exactly where he was and where he wanted to go. He pulled Justin along at an almost-run for about 10 minutes through some random fields that appeared to go no where, only stopping because there was a closed gate leading to some small fishing ponds that he was apparently eager to go to.

Consoled only by the fact that the dog's nose still seemed to work, we assumed this meant something. So we opened the gate, went in, and asked the first people we saw if they knew Schlumpy. Miraciously, they did! After a phone call to the owner, and a walk in which Schlumpy showed us where he likes to go fishing, his owner arrived.

His owner (an old German man) was very excited to see Schlumpy, and Schlumpy was very excited to see him. According to Justin, the owner had tears in his eyes at the reunion.

Supposedly, Schlumpy had been with his owner in their garden plot yesterday when he took off. When we found Schlumpy, he was apparently headed - albeit in a lost, wandering manner - to the fishing pond, eager to play. Whether Schlumpy was lost or running away, we don't know. All we know is that it was a happy ending for all.

An Unexpected Guest

When Justin and I went to Ikea today, we expected to come home with a few new picture frames, not a new (to us) dog. Reality did not match our expectations.

After our trip to Ikea, we took Pecos on a romp in a grassy field in a nearby town. As we were driving away, I noticed a dachshund in the road. He was oblivious to the cars around him and he was clearly alone. Feeling guilty, I turned the car around to go check on the dog. As we passed again, he wandered in the road two more times. Justin and I then stopped to rescue him. After devising a collar/leash out of Pecos' leash and asking a few locals if they knew the dog, we decided the only course of action was to take him to the pound in Wiesbaden.

During the hour drive to the pound (damn traffic), Justin and I got to examine our guests many wonderful traits. He is old, fat, lumpy, stinky, scabby, and dirty. He also has disgusting long rear-dewclaws, large black balls, and a few open soars. Beyond all this he is agreeable.

Much to Justin's dismay, the pound was closed when we arrived, and the dog came home with us. We have named him Slumpy (or Schlumpy if you speak Yiddish or are me). He has had a bath, eaten some food, had some water, and gone to sleep. He seems to be unaware that this is not his daily routine, or perhaps we are the ones who are unaware. Hopefully his state of obliviousness will keep his spirits high when he goes to the pound tomorrow morning, or at least until his owner claims him.

Pecos is in disbelief.

Oh, and on a completely different note, Justin wants to let everyone know that cuckoo birds actually do exist. We heard a real one today for the first time during our romp through the fields.

As requested....

Due to the overwhelming popularity of my upside-down, half-naked ape impression (and the request for a picture of Kate doing the same), here's a series of pictures showing my better half striking the simian pose.

And me getting out of the way at the right moment.

SO proud!

Big girl!

Berlin on the cheap and with Sarah, which aren't necessarily related but I put them together in the title anyway

Like Paris in the 1920s, New York in the 1980s, and Prague in the 1990s, Berlin is undergoing a significant cultural shift. And it’s awesome. Food is cheap, graffiti is everywhere, and the creativity that comes with the raw, bohemian counter culture is palpable. Bullet-scared alleys in the East that were squatters’ homes only 15 years ago are now laboratories for trendy bars, restaurants, and design studios. Communist-era apartment buildings are coming down and modern, flashy complexes are rising from their ashes. Berlin, especially the East side, is a home for artists, students, and young entrepreneurs. And, like I said, it’s awesome.

Kate and I went to the EU’s second largest city and Germany’s capital this weekend (Thursday – Saturday) to visit our friend Sarah Ashton, who was in town for a week for a work convention. Jet lag and incontestably boring presenters made it easy for Sarah to skip Friday’s presentation and hang out with us instead, traveling through the city in the way the locals do – by foot. And with hot chocolate.

But let me start at the beginning. We arrived around 5 p.m. on Thursday in a leafy residential area of the former West Berlin called Wedding (pronounced VEY-dink). Although we didn’t know it at the time, this sleepy area within walking distance of the hustle and bustle of downtown was actually the area my Oma was from. A neat coincidence, to be sure, although I’m sure the Turkish döner kebap stands weren’t around in the early 1920s. We met Sarah there at 6 p.m. and began a hardy jaunt around the city that ended up keeping us out of our place until after midnight. The first thing we wanted to do was head east…so we hopped on the jaundiced-looking metro line and, pop, we were there. Something completely unimaginable only two decades ago.

Sarah served as a commendable guide for Thursday night, dutifully showing us the sights she’d been able to find and appreciate during her week in the city. Most of the sights are actually on the East side – from the Brandenburg Gate to the museums (153 of them in total) to the famous Unter den Linden strasse, a grand boulevard not unlike the Champs Elysees.

Here's a snap of a bunch of sites from the East. It's no wonder this part is becoming the city's center of gravity for tourists and locals.

The East is made even more attractive to investors because, in addition to the derelict and forsaken properties that went unfrequented for the 28 years the Berlin Wall divided the city in half, the socialist regime put in a “death strip” of up to 30 yards in front of the wall, making potentially attractive property into vacant lots. (It was were called the “death strip” by the way because the armed guards who were ostensibly there to “protect” the “free” socialist brothers of East Berlin from the evil capitalists from West Berlin were ironically instructed to shoot any socialist brother attempting to visit the other side. Nice, huh?).

Anyway, although it’s been almost two decades since the wall came down and those vacant yards were ripe for bidding, construction cranes still seem to sully just about every picture tourists like me want to take. Luckily, I'm shallow enough to take pictures of myself.

See?

Or this sorta stuff.

After our walk around the East, we ate a popularly-priced Indian meal where the food was good (but Kate’s milk-flavored beer was bad) and called it a night.

The next morning we met up with Sarah again for another walking tour of the city, this one provided by a reputable company that actually charges for their services. Again, we headed east on the metro and spent five effortless hours ambling around the former Communist sector. Here's Kate not paying attention.

It was on this tour that we learned a lot about the city and its history. We also realized that the Soviets actually got a better deal than the other members of World War II’s Allies in terms of real estate, because they were partitioned with the central and historic parts of the city, which just “happened” to be on the east side of the city. It’s not like the Soviets did anything with the remarkable property they had….just neglect it. But it’s all open and available now.

We heard a couple good stories about the city’s architecture, its transition during and after the war, and about the tough times faced by inhabitants of the East during the Cold War. We even heard about a couple successful escape attempts and saw Checkpoint Charlie, a famous American crossing point between East Berlin and West Berlin during the Cold War.



Or, perhaps more importantly, we saw this building, where Michael Jackson held his son, Blanket, over the railing.


And this large giraffe.
And this apparently incredibly boring recreation of a traffic control tower in the once bustling Potsdamer Platz where the police guard used to sit to control the first-in-Europe traffic lights.

OK, those last two things weren't on our tour. But they were fun anyway. Seriously. And here's another thing that wasn't on our tour - the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, which was destroyed during a British RAF bombing raid in 1943. This is, actually, one of the most impressive sites...if you ask me.

We followed that up with a couple drinks in a fun but scruffy neighborhood that had cheap booze, good food, and prostitutes. I started the night off with a “turbo radler” – a mélange of beer and red bull – that seemed to intoxicate my brain very nicely.

After checking out on Saturday, we hit up the very thorough and well organized German history museum (leave it to the Germans to be thorough and well organized) to learn about the history of Germanic people starting from the year 1000 B.C.

We then walked to Berlin’s version of Central Park called the Tiergarten (animal garden) because it used to serve as hunting grounds for the Kaiser and his volk. Today, it’s a delightfully green forest filled with a network of well trod paths and a surprising bunch of little tikes like this couple who were running in what seemed like a breast cancer awareness race sponsored by Avon. Can you sponsor cuteness like this?
And then, it was time to leave – embarking on the six-hour trek back to Wiesbaden and, more importantly, back to Pecos, who we missed very, very much.

Doggie paddle

The real reason I signed on to blogger today is to say that we’re proud owners of a champion swimming dog. A doggy version of Mark Spitz. Mutt Spitz, if you will. But our version chases sticks.

Although Kate and I have forced Pecos into lakes, creeks, and ponds before, our frightened fido has never taken to it. Each time we near water, Pecos beams with excitement at the chance to wade in and spatter about. But once he’s up to his chest, absolute panic sets in. Whether it’s the fear of drowning (which only monkeys and humans are supposed to have), the desire to stay dry, or the humiliation at showing off a rusty breast stroke, Pecos goes no further. Well, we’re proud to disclose that on Sunday Pecos went swimming.Here’s a sketch I made of the event. Those dots are tadpoles (of which there were thousands). The thing in the middle is Pecos. Pecos proud. Big boy. Eat stick and swim in yummy tadpole water.

Men in underwear (caution: GRAPHIC IN NATURE)

Although it's not officially recognized, there's a challenge going on here. Or perhaps just a curious and revolting similarity.

Without clarification or purpose, our blog has posted several pictures of me in my underwear. The situations in which these pictures occur have been varied, but most of them have thankfully been humorous in nature (and not for disgusting or intriguing or overtly humiliating purposes). Here’s another one, without basis, of me climbing a door jamb.I must confess, I’m not particularly proud to be seen in my underwear. Especially with my big black work socks on. But it’s such an ordinary occurrence around here that catching me sans pants is probably just as likely as catching me with them. Am I ashamed? A little. But will I continue to do it? Probably.

Be thankful. These pictures have been few and far between. Our old neighbor’s home-owning blog (http://adventuresinhomeowning.blogspot.com/) has many MANY more shots of the hubby in his BVDs. See?
Now, I’m not saying I was intending to compete in the underpants pair-off with Adam. Not by any means. I wouldn’t want to a) embarrass myself anymore than I have to, b) embarrass Adam, c) gross out unsuspecting blog surfers, d) lose any chances at inheritance, e) ruin our political futures, f) all of the above.

In fairness, Pecos is always seen au naturel. Does that indemnify me?

Two bruised thumbs

Funny. I didn't expect to be an engineer today.

This morning was just like many others. Wake up, shower, get dressed, and go to work to be a good public affairs guy. When I got home, I was searching around the net for a new digital camera, as ours has been to hell and back and has the wounds to show for it.

I'm sure some of you have noticed, but many of the pictures on our blog have little splotches all over them. Over the course of a year, little flecks of dust somehow worked their way into the inside of our camera (probably resultant from the two impacts the camera has made with asphalt) and had little fleck babies. Most recently, it got so outta hand that we've been too embarrassed to show the photos to anyone. Hence, the search for the new camera.

So, I had been searching for about two weeks now....from amazon to circuitcity.com to ebay. (I went further down the alphabet, too.) I even made two bids on ebay last week; both for the same model that we curently have....and both unsuccessful, obviously.


So today I started another ebay search. However, while searching I found this site which listed a way to clean our exact camera model
(http://forums.dpreview.com/forums/read.asp?forum=1009&message=18038181). Intrigued by the thoughts of saving $200-$300 bucks, I gave it a shot and: voila. Two bruised thumbs and 1.5 hours later we have a clean camera. See?


Before:

After: And, yes, yes. I know this is not EXACTLY what engineers do....but come on. Let me have my moment, damnit!

Cinque Terre and Exploring the Rhine Valley by Rachele

Arriving in Wiesbaden, I was prepared for certain cultural adjustments. After all, I had been to Germany before—bathrooms you have to pay to use, coca cola light instead of diet coke, water with ‘gas’, and an over abundance of consonants thrown together haphazardly. What I had not anticipated was having to adjust to how ruthless and focused on hasty efficiency Kate and Justin have become since moving to Europe. For instance, despite the fact that I left for the airport at 3am Wednesday/Thursday and didn’t arrive until 7am Friday AND the fact that I had to wake up again at 3am Friday/Saturday to catch our flight to Italy where we would immediately begin a 2.5 hour hike, Kate refused to let me have an afternoon nap or go to bed early. Then, the following morning, in my hazy stupor, I discovered that Justin and Kate have the ability to walk an incredible 10 mph when they are trying to arrive somewhere “on time” so I had to jog to keep up with them walking from the parking lot to the airport and then through the airport to our gate.

The Cinque Terre, our Italian destination, are five coastal villages in the province of La Spezia in the Liguria region of Italy. "Discovered" by foreigners in the late 20th century, they have come to be among the most popular areas of Italy among tourists. The coastline, the five villages—each of which are inhabited by only around 500 people, and the surrounding hillsides are all encapsulated in a national park by the same name.

Centuries old footpaths and mule tracks wind about 500 to 1,000 feet above the sea, leading through olive groves and vineyards, orchards and chestnut woods. There are almost no cars as the villages are not easily accessible by road, but the main railway between Rome and Paris runs along the coast, mainly in tunnels.

In spite of being mildly traumatized that first day, I was thoroughly impressed with the first Cinque Terre town, Monterosso, where the train dropped us off and which sat right on a gorgeous white sand Mediterranean beach. After debating for five minutes or so whether or not to change into our suits and plop ourselves onto the beach, we decided instead to set off on our hike to the second town, Vernazza, where we had a room for the night. The trail took us up into the terraced hill/cliffside and then curved around the coast before winding back down to drop us off in Vernazzo. Albeit beautiful, the first hike was essentially climbing up stairs for 1.5 hours in the hot sun before climbing down stairs for another 45 minutes or so in the hot sun.

As astonishing as the views from the trail, was the immense amount sweat Kate’s body produced after just a short time hiking and the utter lack of sweat that Justin’s produced. By the time we were approaching Vernazzo, Kate had begun to make the trail unsafe for other travelers because her t-shirt was so soaked, it was dripping profusely and making the rocks slippery. I have to admit that I was only slightly less drenched, but through some genetic mutation, Justin merely glowed and gave off a flowery fresh smell.

From there the day became much less painful and we relaxed on the beach and then at one of the café’s until dinner time when pasta began calling our names.
Since the trails between the towns got progressively shorter, we set out to see all three of the remaining towns the following morning. After slightly less stair climbing than the previous day, we got to Corniglia and wandered in and out of the pretty cobblestone streets before finding a small restaurant where Justin could get an anchovy sandwich for lunch. The next town, Monarola was similar to the others, but was built higher up in the cliffs so there were amazing views of the coastline but no beach. The last town, Riomaggiore, was where we spent our second night and although it did have a beach, instead of sand, there was nothing but softball size rocks for you to comfortably sprawl out on.

Actually, despite having to carefully arrange our rock beds before spreading out our towels, the beach was in this beautiful cove and we had a great time daring each other to “go all the way in” to the freezing Mediterranean.

In addition to the beach, Riomaggiore was also home to Scrappy, a dog I at first mistook for a cat and then tried to adopt from his local fisherman owner. Kate and Justin said they thought he was hideous, but I’m sure they were kidding.

As reluctant as we were to leave Italy the following morning, we took the train to Piza and took the requisite pushing the tower over/the tower coming out of our pants pictures before heading to the airport where an enormous bird robot waited to devour us. Back safe and sound in Wiesbaden, the last two days of my trip were spent relaxing and poking around downtown Wiesbaden, traipsing through the Rhine river valley’s vineyards with Kate and Pecos, and exploring a couple small towns along the river. Kate shared her favorite town, Bacharach, with me, the name of which apparently came from the townspeople’s love of famed singer, composer, and pianist Burt Bacharach. Bacharach was picturesque with pretty gardens, little bridges and a castle overlooking the town, but I preferred the town (whose name I can’t remember at the moment) where I was able to make the acquaintance of Ausfahrt, the lawn gnome. All in all, the trip was a wonderful mix of activity and rest all framed by gorgeous landscapes and sparkly blue water. I miss you guys!