At least someone cares.

Garbage can at the train station in Berlin.


Before I leave Germany, I must remark: these people take their garbage very seriously. Never have I seen a people so devoted to separating their garbage and recycling properly. At the garbage cans in the train stations, for instance, you would find a spot for paper, glass, packing and waste. I would often stand before these waste bins confused. What is the difference between packaging and waste, I would often think, holding a candy bar wrapper.

All the Germans I stayed with recycled in some way. (Though I would have to say that Katrin wins the Al Gore award. Everytime I tried to throw away anything at her house, I needed to ask her where. It was always different). Nearly all of them ate organic food as well. And they all had their own shopping bags they brought to the store with them.

I am glad that they are so concerned with our environment and hope they influence others (Americans included) to do the same. Polish Ham, spreading the word.

The last stand.

Pergamon Altar. The shrine is surrounded by a frieze of the Gods battling giants.


For the sake of my readership, I was a little more active today. Though I felt a veil of malaise over me.

Even Philipp noted this evening, 'I can see that you are here, but you have one foot already in New York.' I cannot deny it. The last few nights, I have been unable to fall asleep, visions of the city, a new apartment, a new job, a new life than that of a wandering traveler keep running through my head.

Taking this trip was the best thing I have ever done in my life. No matter what happens I will never regret it. And something I learned on this trip is that it all works out in the end. Sure, you can get lost, you cannot understand what anyone is saying, there can be train strikes, you can spend all day looking for contact solution, you can lose an adapter, but despite these obstacles, there is no need to worry. You will get there all right. And that is how I am trying to think about my return home. Sometimes I start to panic, but then I remember that and it makes me calm down.

The malaise is of sadness that it is all coming to an end. And while I am excited to come home, there is an apprehension. Through this trip I have learned so much about myself and feel stronger and more confident than ever. I have a new perspective on life that I never had before. Will this feeling continue when I go back to the real world, or will I get sucked back into my old New York lifestyle of all work and no play? This trip made me remember how much I enjoy the company of family and friends, eating good food, seeing art that inspires me, learning new things, writing for writing's sake and also a new passion: taking photographs. Will I remember about them when I come home? Will I have this same sense of self-worth and determination to do what I want? I cannot answer that question. I do not know what will happen. But that is what I think about at night.

But I am trying to live in the moment. I only have a few more days left, and so I went to see the Berlin once more. First starting at the Pergamon Museum, which was filled with one of a kind classical Greek, Roman, Islamic and Middle Eastern art and architecture. While these types of things are not my passion, both my hosts and the Lonely Planet guide said it was a must see, and I can appreciate why. The artifacts were pretty amazing. Then I moved on to something that was more capitivating to me: The KaDeWe department store, which is 8 floors of shopping. It reminded me a little of Bloomingdale's, but it also had a spectacular gourmet food floor, filled with chefs cooking up all sorts of things that smelled heavenly and food products from all over the world. The most spectacular section for me was the seafood aisle, where they had so many fishes, big and small, all different colors and varieties. I am unsure who buys all this fish, but they were certainly a feast for the eyes!

I passed by a display of American products like Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate and Smucker's Jam and wondered why these products were doing in a fancy place like this. Then it occurred to me: they probably do not sell these products here in Germany so it is special over here.


Eat me!


American specialties.

The rest of the day was 'typical Berlin,' first starting in a coffee shop, a place where it seems like everyone in this city spends half the day. (Besides Vienna, I have never seen so many coffeeshops!) Then I met up with Philipp when he came home from work, and he took me a pub where we stood at the bar and had dinner and beer. The beer is served in small, thin glasses and the bartender keeps refilling them without you asking until you put a coaster on top of your glass. We both ate a plate of meatballs, fried potatoes, a pickle and sourkraut.

The place was filled with people young and old, including lots of government types, and it had a nice rowdy atmosphere. The man standing next to us talked to Philipp some, (Philipp says that is quite common to have friendly conversation with your neighbors in a place like this) and then we listened to a friendly but heated argument between two old men. (Philipp explained to me it was about some famous German polar bear who turned one today).

'I think he is the owner of the bar,' Philipp said about the white haired man who started the argument. 'He looks familiar.' He did seem to know everyone. But then when Philipp went to the bathroom, he came back and said, 'He is actually the owner of the toliets. That is where I know him from.' (In Europe, you often have someone working the bathrooms collecting tips). Oops!

We then wandered to a jazz club for some music, which would have been okay but we were forced to stand some more. Standing at the pub was part of the experience, but now I was getting tired of standing. Luckily, Philipp had to go to bed. (Someone has to work tomorrow). It was a great night and a great finish to the city of Berlin and the country of Germany.

And to make the night complete, we took a cab home, German style, in a brand-new Mercedes-Benz. Not bad!


The standing pub. (you can sit there, too. Standing is just more fun).


Philipp and me.

Nothing happened today.

I woke up. It took me a half an hour to get out of bed. I ate breakfast. I went back to bed. I lied there with my eyes closed, listening to the construction outside, pepping myself to get up: 'ten more minutes.' 'five more minutes.' okay, two more minutes.' I read three pages of my book. I finally got up and showered. I lied down on my bed. I looked out the window to the blue skies and felt guilty. I looked in my Lonely Planet guide. Nothing interested me. But I would go out. I decided. I put on my shoes. I lied down on my bed, shoes on floor. I was about to leave, and the door opened. Christina was home.

Seeing her standing at the doorway, I did not want to go anywhere.

'I don't want to go anywhere!' I said. I slipped off my shoes. I followed her in the kitchen. We had chocolate from the advent calendar, some tea and cookies. She cleaned and I read my book.

(Just a tidbit about German moms: Christina received one year maternity leave from her job. By law her company must offer her a part-time option for the first three years. That is what she is doing when she returns to work after the New Year. I know some mothers in New York who are probably green with envy. My old job offered 3-month maternity leave and part-time work afterwards was not an option).

At 2:30, we picked up Ada from daycare and went to a coffeeshop specializing in chocolate aptly named Kakao. I had a traditional German black forest cake, Christina had a kind of fruity pink cake, and Ada had an banana. (By the way she kept grabbing for dessert, I see a future sweet tooth in our midst.) It was really nice sitting there with Christina. I find her so easy to talk with. We swapped stories about our families and I heard about her and Philipp's wedding in a castle. She also asked me if it was true that American weddings end at midnight.

'A wedding that ends that early would be seen as a bad wedding here,' she said. I am not sure why Americans do not party all night, but I am guessing it has something to do with the cost of the wedding reception place.

We went back home. Had some more tea. Christina appeased a cranky Ada as I finished my book. Philipp came home from work, and we had a delicious pasta and celery pasta dish with truffle oil on top, courtesy of Christina the chef. It is apparently her own invention, and it is a good one. And then some more cake, including a German-style cheesecake which is much lighter than I have ever had.

The night ended as is now our custom. Philipp and Christina debate over my program, and they go to bed as I sit in the kitchen until the wee hours of the night checking my email and writing my blog. Perhaps that is the reason why I cannot wake up in the morning?


Ada, future cake eater. And yes, I have spent the last twenty minutes trying to make this photo rightside up on Christina's MacBook. I do not know how! I give up!

My big mistake.

I walked into the Jewish Museum in Berlin today and was surprised to see metal detectors akin to an airport. I have been in many museums on this trip and have never seen such security before.

Hmmm, I thought to myself, perhaps something of interest to the readers of Polish Ham. I mean, don't you think that it is interesting that there is so much security in the Jewish museum in modern day Germany? I took my camera out of my pocket and snapped a quick picture.

Suddenly, everything went haywire. Security men were yelling and pointing at me. I was surrounded. People were yelling at me in German. And then finally a man in English said, 'Show me the picture you took.'

I showed it to him, and said 'I am sorry. I did not know.' I flashed him the picture, of someone walking through the metal detector, and erased it.

'Show me again,' he said.

'I erased it already!' I said, and to prove my point, I showed him all the pictures from yesterday including about five versions of 'I love Dan' spelled out in cookies.

'Okay, okay,' he said, letting me go. I was horribly embarassed. What was I thinking? I walked around nervously in circles and wondered if now I was being watched.

Agitated, I waited on line for the audio tour, and it took so long that I walked away. Went inside the musuem, which was creatively designed by Daniel Libeskind. There seemed to be lots of long hallways. I wasn't sure where to go and found myself first at this memorial for Holocaust victims, which was really stunning. It was in this isolated dark grey corner, and on the floor were thousands of thick pieces of metal shaped like faces. The faces looked simple at first, almost like cut out faces, but if you looked closer, the faces each had individual characteristics, the expressions filled with anguish. You were encouraged to walk over the floor of faces and when you did they emitted a loud clanging that sounded very eerie in that big quiet room. It was a powerful experience.

I walked out of there a little perplexed, still a little anxious, and began walking through the permanent exhibit, which was a hodgepodge of Jewish history, mementoes, artwork, biographies and interactive displays. I felt completely confused by the structure of the museum and the flow of the exhibit until half way through I saw a bunch of arrows on the floor facing the opposite direction. I was walking through the exhibit backwards.

I shrugged it off. It was just going to be one of these days. I learned in reverse everything there is to know, including seeing the other two abstract memorials, which did not impact me as much as the first one did.

I left the museum into the cold pouring rain, where I got all wet and realized I was heading the wrong way, so I walked back to the museum and the rain stopped. After a quick bite to eat, I trotted to the Topography of Terror, on recommendation of my hosts, which is an outdoor exhibit that talks about the structure and crimes of the SS during the Nazi era. The exhibit stands in the place where the headquarters once stood, where they planned all the strategies of terror and destruction including the extermination of the Jews. It is strange to think that people sat around and discussed and planned this, it did not just happen spontaneously. I was half way through the exhibit, cold as anything, squinting at the words as the sun went down, and then they kicked me out because they were closing. Oh well.

Walked through more rain and then I decided to get some warmth by going ontop of the Reichstag, the parliament building here. It is a traditional grand-looking place, however, on the top of the building is a glass sphere that was designed by Norman Foster, the same person who designed building where I used to work. You can go to the top and walk through a spiralling ramp that gives you views of the architecture and of the city. I did not take pictures at this security checkpoint (there were signs telling me not too--and I would expect to see security at a government building). But I was dismayed to find that there was no heat in the sphere (you could actually go outside) so I went in and out rather quickly, taking some fun pictures of the different shapes and designs.

I came back to the apartment wet, cold, exhausted, cranky, embarassed to tell my Philipp and Christina how I made a fool of myself in their country. (They laughed). Ada was going to bed, but she was so excited to see me, wiggling around and saying da da da over and over. After hearing about day (oh, the horrors!), Christina came up with the brilliant idea for me to take a bath. She even drew the water and let me choose the bath salts. It was just what I needed. And then they fed me dinner.


Floor of faces at the Jewish museum.


Sphere ontop of the Reichstag.


Inside the sphere.


View of the parliament meeting room. See blue chairs.

German Cookie Bonanza

Two years ago, I started a new tradition in my life called Cookie Bonanza. On December 23, I spend the entire day in the kitchen, making about 6 to 8 varieties of cookies that I package and give as gifts for Christmas to my family. The third annual Cookie Bonanza will take place this year when I return, however, today I had some practice baking some holiday cookies with Philipp and Christina.

With American holiday music playing in the background (from a candy bar promotional cd called 'Merry Twix-mas'), little Ada playing on her own mini-kitchen, we went to work. Philipp immediately started making these jam sandwich cookies, and Christina suggested that the two of us bake American style chocolate chip cookies.

A note on German baking. They do not use measuring spoons. All ingredients are weighed on a scale. They do not really sell chocolate chips here (you can get them, but they are kind of expensive), so I chopped up chocolate into fine pieces. When I saw that the dough was a dark brown color, I told Christina that in the States, we had light brown sugar and dark brown sugar, and chocolate chip cookies had light brown sugar. She did not know of such variations. As I scooped the dough onto the cookie sheet, it was a hard claylike texture, nothing like the soft, gooey stuff you would normally get with this recipe.

I had to break it to them: These are not American chocolate chip cookies.

'But look here,' Christina protested, showing me the German cookbook, 'This recipe is from someone in America.'

It may be true, but perhaps they alter the recipe using ingredients readily available to Germans. Or this American woman has intentions to fool the German baking population.

Coming out the oven, they looked more like the original, and they tasted very good, so there was nothing to complain about really. I had like three of them. I just made a mental note that if Philipp and Christina ever visit me in the States, I would need to give them a taste of the real thing.

Philipp came up with the idea of sending Dan a care package but we decided that two weeks of holding on to cookies would be too long, so we came up with an alternative plan:



We were ambitious at first, hoping to make six different kinds of cookies. We only ended up with four, one made of dough and parmesian, was more of a savory than a sweet. Philipp suggested we go to a Christmas market--which is this big German traditional market where you can buy ornaments and holiday food and whatnot--but Christina and I were lazy and tired, our bellies filled with sugar, and so we did not go. We watched good ol Tartot instead. I contemplated decorating ideas for my new non-existent apartment instead of following the plot.

In Ada news, since my arrival, she continues to achieve. She has made about 6 small steps in a row. Her hair has grown. A new tooth has popped out overnight. And today she slipped and hit her mouth and blood squirted all over the place. Her first blood bath. And I was there.

This Ada sure likes opening drawers and taking things out of the drawers and throwing things that belong in drawers on the floor. Her means of communication--an arm outreached with an eh! eh! eh! sound--is quite effective in getting what she wants. I think she is still suspicious of me, and my English-speaking ways, but sometimes she will crawl to me, stand up, grasp on my leg and wobble to her heart's delight. I let her. Because she is nice. And her parents are okay, too. But they did not feed me dinner.

(They dared me to write that. I took that dare. Now everyone knows.)


Chocolate chip cookies? I don't think so! (But I will eat them anyway!)


Ada in her wooden crib.


One big happy cookie family.

Get with the program.

The program.

There has been a surprising development.

I, traveling for three months now, have been looking forward to coming back to New York and having a stable homebase. However, I have just learned that I no longer have one. Dan and I were unable to negotiate with our landlords regarding our rent increase, and so we have decided that they can shove the $200 extra a month up their ass and we're moving out. We are confronted with the following challenges:

Dan has to look (and possibly choose) an apartment without me.

When I get home in two weeks, I will have to pack my stuff and be out by December 31.

I am out of a job and knowing New York City´s crazy rent standards (needing to show paycheck stubs and whatnot), I am nervous we will get screwed somehow (though the broker we contacted says it should not be a problem).

Will we even be able to find an apartment at this time of year? Who moves January 1?!?

While fretting about the idea of finding a new home (which will undoubtedly be too small and cost too much), I come to Berlin to stay at the home of Philipp, who you may remember as core member of the inner circle from Polish class, his wife Christina and their 11-month daughter, Ada. Completely tired of hostels (especially after the Amsterdam experience), I was overjoyed a few day ago when Philipp asked if I would like to stay with them. Would I ever!

Philipp and I met on platform 5 in Berlin's brand new train station in dramatic fashion: He on one side, I on the other. If it weren't for the concrete and train tracks, and the fact that I could barely move with my packs strapped to me, it was almost like running across a field of flowers to greet an old friend.

'This is a typical Berlin apartment,' he told me as we walked through the door of his home, saying hello to Christina and Ada. The place is in an old building, and just like most of the other buildings on their street, newly renovated. About three of my apartments could fit into theirs. They have a living room, a dining room, a master bedroom, a baby room, a kitchen, two bathrooms (equipped with washer and dryer), and two long hallways which makes for a nice design. It is stylish, but not uncomfortable, decorated in charming red, electric blue and white motif. Their walls are lined with interesting artwork and photographs, but they have books and papers and babytoys and trinkets littering their shelves and floors, as if to say, 'I am cool, but people live here.' They live in a neighborhood filled with fun shops, close to the center of town. I have seen at least three record stores in this city already which would make my boyfriend very happy. And they pay less in rent than we do back in New York. Why are we living in New York again?

There is a lot of activity in this home. Philipp and Christina seem like the type of people who always keep busy with so many friends and engagements and parties plus the baby. Also, within 30 minutes of being there, Ada takes her first step (only Philipp saw the first, we saw the second and third) and says 'Danke' for the first time. How's that for excitement?

I like their energy. Immediately, Philipp and Christina wanted to set up a program for me on exploring the city. I have been so laid back in my sight-seeing approach that having a program (as they referred to it) made me a little nervous.

'How do you want to approach the city?' Phillipp asked me. 'What are your interests?'

I gulped. I was a little embarassed to admit that I did not know much about Berlin at all. I know of no landmarks except for the Berlin Wall and that doesn't even really exist anymore. And approach? Does finding the best cake shops in town count as an approach?

So I asked them to recommend me a program, and so Christina created a walking plan for me which she drew on a map in green marker. Philipp went over the map, adding his own lines. They talked about places with names I could not pronounce, and I nodded and said yes that sounds good, even though I wasn't sure what any of these places were.

So with map in hand, I ventured into the city. It was one of these big maps, that folded a hundred times over, the kind where if you unfolded it, you could never get it back to its original condition again. And that meant I kept losing the little green line in these folds (I kept finding another green line that looked like it was drawn for another visitor). At one point, I was struggling with this map so long that a person on the street asked if I needed help.

'Oh, my friends,' I sputtered, 'gave me a program.' The man raised his eyebrow. I finally found the green line and showed him.

'Ah, yes!' he said, And then he started pointing out other streets that would be of interest to me. I was nervous he would take out his own green marker. But he didn't.

The Germans knew what they were doing, and basically they had me walk from their apartment down through the Mitte neighborhood, where first I walked through an impossibly hip street filled with coffee shops, art galleries, and little boutiques, decorated with enough grafiti to make it rough around the edges. This took me to an area filled with retailers and Starbucks, including one jewerly store where you could make your own jewelry from a variety of beads and objects, including little dolls. I was not sure if this was totally kitsch and awesome, or just plain scary. Finally this led me to all the big blockbuster sights, which I have never known of before, but oohed and ahhed anyway.

Out of all the cities I have visited thus far, Berlin feels the most liveable to me, perhaps because it is the most like New York. Sometimes walking around New York, I feel inspired by the energy of the place: the buildings, the people, the bustle. I felt the same way here and could not help snapping pictures left and right, trying to capture some of this feeling. While I do not know all the names of the places I saw today (nor can I really pronounce them) but I felt like I had a good sense of what the city has to offer. And what I saw, I really liked.

I came back to the apartment, and helped put Ada to bed. (Well, watched Christina do it). Christina went to a friend's house and Philipp and I made a pasta dinner. (Well, he made it and I sliced carrots). I like the little home that they have created for themselves here, and I hope that come Jan 1, Dan and I will have one something like it of our own.


Philipp, Tina and Ada's apartment. The living room and my room.


Gritty Berlin.


Magnificent Berlin.

Speaking German

Jan makes dinner.


After making me a traditional German meal of egg noodles served with a meat that had the consistency of Spam, Steffi and Jan invited me out on the night on the town with their friends Toby and Tom. Steffi wore the new coat we picked out together at Zara. She bought a "serious" coat to make her look older. Now instead of 18, she looks 19. She's 24. The two boys added an element of fun to our group.

Toby is the type of person that walks around with a smile pasted on his face. Throughout the night, Toby was verbally abused by his friends for not liking animals, for only being interested in money and because he had recently cut his hair very short. Toby took the insults like a man and kept smiling.

Tom looked like an Angelic choir boy with little bangs and rosy lips, but his posture and demeanor said Benjamin Franklin. I couldn't figure out why until I realized he was wearing bifocals, which were propped in the middle of his nose, his eyebrows cocked when he was looking at someone, peering over his glasses with a suspicious look in his eyes.

He gave me such a look when he addressed me for the first time: "Did you see The Simpsons movie?"

"No," I said. His face fell.

"How can you not like The Simpsons?"

"I don't hate them, but I just don't watch them." I answered. "I hope it doesn't make you think any less of me."

He paused for a minute, as if considering. "No, it doesn't," he said finally.

"Well, why do you ask me if I have seen it?"

"There is this one part where Homer and Bart are on the roof," he explained, "and I have always wanted to know what Homer says to Bart in English and if it different than what he says in German."

"Have you been asking every American you meet about this?" I inquired.

He paused again. "Well, you are the first American I am asking, so yes, I am asking every American I meet." He smiled. He is planning to come to New York for an internship in the Spring and so I told him that I could ask some of the Simpson fans that I know to answer this question.

"Maybe I will ask them myself," Tom said.

I liked this guy immediately. He told me about terrible condition of the Germans, that they really were funny, but no one else in the world thought so.

Then we went on to talk about what German words I know.

"Do you know what Schadenfreuden means?" Steffi asked."You know, when someone is happy when something bad happens to another person?"

"Yes," I answered, "There is no English translation, so we use the German term. Maybe because Germans come up with words like this is the reason why no one thinks you are funny."

Jan told me that the German language is so precise that instruction manuals in English might be twice as long as if the same text was written in German. Then they told me about "mind-mapping" which is a type of brain-storming where you create a circle graphs to link your ideas together. They acted like Germans do this mind-mapping stuff all the time, but I think it's because they are students and they have to do it.

We walked back to the tram only to find we would have to wait an hour in the cold. So we did what every other person waiting for the tram did: Go to McDonald's. Eating some hamburgers at 1 in the morning; maybe Germans and Americans are not so different after all.

Me and Steffi.


Toby, Tom and Jan.

Falling apart and that's okay.

The Dom.

Last night I discovered a hole on the butt of one of my pair of jeans. This is the second pair of pants to deconstruct on this trip, but this one makes me mad because I literally bought these jeans three months ago and they were not cheap.

My clothes are turning into shreads, my computer is out of order, I am losing things left and right, my hair is taking a different direction every day. I am falling apart. I like traveling still but I am a little sick of sight seeing (the churches and museums are beginning to blur) and lately, I have been feeling most content talking with people and reading my book in a cafe. Emotionally, I am in a good place. I am happy with my travels. I am happy to go home. I listen to my ipod and all the songs that I used to play when I was mad or frustrated do not evoke much feeling in me anymore. I am happy, content, rested. This whole trip worked.

Given that I am not so ambitious as a traveler at the moment, it is fun that I am now visiting people that I know. That way, I can just spend lots of time with them and not feel obligated about seeing all the sights in town. In Cologne, I am visiting Steffi, the girl who I spent my birthday with, and her boyfriend Jan, who are both university students and live in a nice apartment just outside of downtown. (After seeing yet another great apartment, I have decided that Dan and my apartment must be the smallest apartment in the entire world.)

When I arrived, they were busy doing the things that students are busy with, so I ventured into this surprisingly bustling town on my own to sight-see because even though I do not have the same enthusasium as I used to, I still do it and I still like doing it. Cologne is the fourth biggest city in Germany, but for me, it might as well be New York City. From the moment I stepped off the train, I was accousted by people rushing past me and pushing me aside. Walking around the shopping distict of the city was no different. Where are all of these people coming from? After buying a winter hat (finally!) I bumped into a large mass of females clutching cameras in their hands.

'What is going on?' I asked someone.

'The Backstreet Boys are signing autographs!' was the response.

I checked out the impressive Dom, the biggest cathedral in all of Germany, and today, along with about 600 schoolchildren, I went to the Chocolate Museum, where I learned about the history of chocolate and the growing of the cocoa bean (which had all these pictures of Africans wearing ripped clothing and talked about how conditions are terrible on the farms and there is a problem with child labor). That made me feel guilty. After that, they push you in a room where chocolate is being made and the intoxicating aroma made me forget about the African exploitation. I think they did that on purpose.

Besides that, I have just been leisurely hanging out with Steffi and Jan. We had some pizza and nice conversation at the student bar. Steffi and I looked for a winter coat--for her. I even had some alone time in Starbucks with my book. I did not see everything in Cologne and I don't have to. Because now, this pace feels just fine.

The Berliner: A donut covered in rough sugar with an explosion of jelly inside.



Shopping in Cologne.




Jan and Steffi.

Things to be thankful for.

It is Thanksgiving. While my family is eating tons of turkey and the five desserts my mother prepared for eight people (see where I get my sweet-tooth from?), it feels like any other typical day in Germany.

Today I had a nice online chat with Madhur_163318 who works at Dell. This person made me do some tests on my computer that caused shrieking beeps that awoke the entire household (I now visiting Steffi and her boyfriend Jan in lovely Cologne). My computer failed the test. According to Madhur_163318, my LCD has gone bad, and it will need to be replaced.

'Nothing to worry about,' he wrote, 'A service technician will come to replace it.'

But will he come to Germany??!!

I had to wait a few minutes and apparently yes, I can get my LCD replaced here but I would need to stay in one place for a minimum of 8 days. After filling in Maddie (we became close) on my travel itinerary for the next few weeks, I won't be any one place for 8 days, so it looks like I will have to spend the next three and a half weeks carrying a broken computer on my back until I reach the States. At least it is covered by my warranty.

Things to be thankful for. As Juan-Carlos, the man from Panama, wrote me: 'Hey, your computer crashed. At least you have a computer.'

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Nude dudes.

My half-working computer.

Mark in a car elevator.

Friedrichsbad spa.

Two days before the computer meltdown, I was in lovely Tubingen, talking to Katrin about my next destination.

"Baden-Baden?" Katrin said, scrunching her nose. "I would never think of going there. I think the only people who go there are rich Russian people."

Despite that non-endorsement, I knew I had to go to Baden-Baden. This spa town was highly recommended by my marathon-running partner Danielle, who gave glowing reviews about her spa experience there when she came back from her trip to Germany and then a second time when I told her I was going to Germany. After hearing her tales of hours of pampering and scrubbing and soaking on the cheap, I had no choice but to try it out. Who cares if it took me three different trains from Tubingen just to get there?

Like Danielle, I opted to go to the older spa called Friedrichsbad. They have a newer spa in town as well, but this one is more old-school, in an old-building--Roman bath style--including community nudity. This is where the naked men come in. I walked in that place and threw my American inhibitions out the door.

For 29 Euros, I had over three hours of indulgence, in 17-or-so timed steps. The first step is to completely get naked and take a public shower. Then I sat on a bed sheet in a hot sauna for 15 minutes and then an even hotter one for 5 minutes, which was so stifling I stayed only for 4. I showered again, and then a woman rubbed me with a very hard brush in the same fashion one would scrub the bathroom tub. It felt good and hurt at the same time. She lathered me in so much soap, I nearly slipped off the table. And then another shower.

From there, I walked into a "damp" sauna where I saw my first penis of the day. It was massive. You try not to look, but I could tell that everyone looks. Every time someone walks in (especially if it is a woman) the people inside the room (especially if it is a man) turn to look. And then you act like you don't care, but still, there is the initial look. And I saw everything: male and female, old and young, bananas and peanuts, watermelons and oranges, rolls and bones, hairy and bare. I knew people were watching me as well, but it didn't really bother me because hey, I was looking at them, too!

There were a series of pools: a hot pool, a whirlpool, a cool pool, where I stayed for 15 minutes each. People kept hopping in between the saunas and the pools, but I couldn't do anymore. By this time, I was one big prune. Another shower, and then a finally a dip in a bath tub filled with water that was Polar Bear Club cold. It felt like jumping into a bunch of knives, but when I came out and had the warm towel wrapped around me, it felt kind of nice.

I had all the lotion in the world to rub on myself and then I was escorted to a circular dark room where a woman wrapped me up in blankets like a cocoon and I napped. It was the best part. I woke up to a growling stomach but walked out of there feeling clean, refreshed, a little sleepy.

The town was the type that would perhaps only interest rich Russians, so I grabbed something to eat and hopped on two more trains to get to Kaiserslautern. Back in the summer, the same Danielle who had recommended the spa had contacted her friend, Mark, who lives there and he invited me to stay at his apartment. I actually had met Mark on marathon-day--he ran it, too--but that morning I was so nervous that I didn't pay attention and I had no mental picture.

Kaiserslautern and the surrounding areas are filled with 34,000 Americans who reside in the area and work on US Air Force base. Mark is hired by the air force to create maps for them. He lives in a giant new apartment in the middle of town and manages to live a pretty American lifestyle over here. In his wallet, he carries both Euros and dollars. (The American base uses US currency). The base has shops with American products and there are the usual fast-food chains--even a Chili's! (By coincidence, he also lives right across the street from McDonald's.) He tried to learn German at first, but everyone he knows--both work and friendswise--is American, so it wasn't worth the effort. He knows enough to get by. I was really surprised. It's like living in the States without being in the States.

Mark told me about getting a ticket for crossing the street without the walk signal (so it is true!) and driving 140 miles an hour on the autobahn. (We actually drove on the autobahn for about 10 minutes to visit his friend, but the part we were on had a speed limit, so it didn't seem very different.) He left this morning for a Thanksgiving ski trip in Austria and let me stay an extra day. I was looking forward to a day of relaxation, but I spent most of it looking at my broken computer and lamenting to Tabitha the cat. "Why me?"

The status is that the computer is still kind of workable, but most of my screen is black. I saved most of my documents and pictures and music on disks, and then tried to restore the computer as Dell costumer service told me to, but for some reason it is not letting me do so, and I can't really see what I am doing or why it is not working because of the black screen. Since I will be visiting some German friends tomorrow, perhaps they can accompany me to the computer repair store and speak on my behalf. Wish me luck. It took a while (and two computers) to get this entry together. No matter what, The Ham will go on!!

Kaiserslautern, we have a problem.

So I am in Kaiserslautern, Germany, right now, visiting Mark, who is a friend of Danielle, my friend and marathon running partner. I woke up this morning, excited to write about my trip to the spa yesterday (including tales of naked men!) and all about Mark, who is so super nice to let me stay at his place even though he went on vacation today...when I turn on my computer and it does not really start up and there is a blue screen that says FATAL SYSTEM ERROR.

This can't be my computer! I thought, literally inspecting it to make sure. But it was. I restarted the computer and the blue screen did not come up again, however, I can only view the top one-third of my screen, the rest is grey. I restarted the computer a few times and same deal.

I cried. I cursed. I thought about everything on my computer I may have lost. Luckily, I have posted most of my photos from this trip onto Flickr, so they are not all missing, but still--everything else might be kaput!

Having this happen to you at home is devastrating. Having it happen in Germany knowing that I will be here for another month and that this computer is my lifeline to my friends and family is quite another. I am in a computer lab right now and will be contacting Dell to see if I can do something about it.

Tales about the spa (and naked men) and Mark to be continued. If you know anything about computers and want to help, please email me.

Mystery Solved!

The good stuff.

I might have mentioned it in passing in a previous post or two, but I have fallen in love with plain yogurt. Nearly every hostel or pension offers it as a choice for breakfast, usually served with granola, but sometimes with corn flakes or other crunchy cereal which adds such a nice texture.

Back in New York, I often have vanilla yogurt topped with granola and fruit for breakfast, but it never tastes like this. Here, I want to lick the bowl clean.

"Why is it so much better?" I asked Katrin.

"Because our yogurt has fat, and all American yogurts have no fat, and so they taste like water."

She would know. She worked as an au pair in New Jersey for a year. And then I thought about yogurts in the States, and yes, it is true, almost all of them claim to fat-free or almost fat-free.

"Also, American yogurt has many ingredients in it. Ours just have milk." I inspected the German yogurt carton this morning at breakfast. 3.5% fatty milk. Nothing else in there. It's a lot of fat, but it's totally worth it. I might have to do an inspection back home to see if they actually have full-fat yogurt, and if they do, I may never go back again.

Oh, and you know how I thought it was weird that that woman left her baby outside of Starbucks? This is completely normal behavior, according to Katrin.

"I don't know why Americans are so afraid of having their kids be kidnapped," she said. If a baby is sleeping, why disturb him/her? Here, leaving a sleeping child outside in the stoller outside or in a parked car (where you can see them) is acceptable.

We even watched it happen on TV, where they left a child in a car for a few minutes, and Katrin goes, "See?!"

Tonight we caught a re-run of Germany's most famous television program called Tatort. I learned about Tatort back in Poland when Philipp dramatically demonstrated the opening sequence for me. He would use his hands in vogue-like fashion to block his face and reveal his eyes, humming the music the whole time. It was so funny watching him do this that I made him repeat it a few times. But the other Germans knew what he was mimicking without explanation. I wish I could show you Philipp's version, but here, you can watch the original yourself.


Tatort's opening sequence.

Tatort has been on air for 37 years, new episodes every Sunday night at 8:15--right after the news, which apparently every German watches everyday at 8. My Lonely Planet guide says that you should never call someone at 8 because of the news, and Katri n says this is totally true. The show is commercial free and runs for 90 minutes.

Tatort is a drama that follows investigation police teams in 15 cities of Germany (kind of like CSI) and every week is a different city. Some cities' police teams are more liked by the German viewing audience than others.

We watched an old episode from the 1990's of the investigation team from Bremen. I watched most of it alone, so this is what happened.

There was a woman with really long red nails, and she cried over a picture of a girl. And then she had sex with this guy on a train, and then they had sex again in a hotel room. And then this girl with blonde hair, a sex-phone operator, got shot, and she had a child who was now being taken care of this girl with brown hair. Some guy who owns a flower shop came to visit the girl with the brown hair and he touched her boob, but they played bad music, so I don't think it was a good thing. And then the woman with the red lipstick later kissed the flower shop guy, so she was bad, too.

The main cop of the show was a woman who had blonde bangs who sometimes wore scrunchies in her hair, and she was into this journalist and they took a bath together. (Total female nudity on television, by the way, and when Katrin came to join me and translated some, I found out there was also cursing). The scrunchie cop and her partner walked around and asked a lot of people questions about the sex-phone operator, and scrunchie cop was also was friends with the woman with the really long red nails. And then it got really confusing with a video-tape and some s&m scenes and the cop's boss was involved.

Long story short, it appears that the woman with the really long red nails steals the child being taken care of by the girl with brown hair (and Germans aren't worried about their kids being stolen!!?). Scrunchie cop finds them at the graveyard, where red nail woman is mourning over the death of her real child--remember the picture of the girl in the beginning?--and the cop takes the child away and then the woman with the really long red nails shoots herself with a pistol.

It was pretty intense. Now imagine how intense if would be if I actually knew what they were saying?


Feeble attempts to buy a winter hat.



Auf Wiedersehen, Tubingen! Hope to see you again soon, Katrin!

Reconsidering Sundays.

Fruitcake, German style.


As a traveler, Europe on Sunday is the absolute worst. All the shops are closed, the restaurants and streets dead, the only places open are church and the bars. Often times I feel like I spend most Sundays waiting for Mondays, so then I can witness the place I am visiting come back to life from the dead.

But today I had the opportunity to spend Sunday not as a tourist, but as a resident of Tubingen. And spending it with Katrin, the hostess with the mostest, it was lovely.

First, having my own room was clutch. I had the best sleep that I have had in days, sleeping in until almost ten. For the past few months, I have been sleeping in my sleeping bag, but here, I have a thick comforter (just like home!) that makes me so warm and cozy. I didn't want to get up.

When I was in the shower, Katrin went to the bakery to pick up some fresh bread for our breakfast. Now, to me, that sums up Euro and small town all in one. I made scrambled eggs. Katrin laid out an assortment of cheeses, butters and marmalade on the table, along with this German fruit cake called Christstollin normally served at Christmastime that she saw at the bakery and thought I should try (do you see how thoughtful she is?). We ate leisurely until we were full, and I wonder: Why have Americans not caught on with this fresh bread thing? Why do we think bread that comes in a bag is acceptable when fresh bread tastes so much better?

After breakfast, we took the bus to an even smaller town called Bibnhausin with only three or four streets, where we visited this beautiful old cloister and former residence of one of the old kings of the area. The sky was blue, and it felt warmer than it has in weeks, and so we took a walk throughout town and then hiked our way back to Tubingen, talking about everything the entire way. I feel like I never run out of conversation with Katrin. You would think that two people who live completely different lives would run out of things to say, but we just keep going and going and going.

In the middle of our hike, we stopped in a café for cake and hot chocolate. The place was low-key, the waiters were apathetic, but the food was delicious and we took our time and suddenly, we realized we spent the whole afternoon there, doing nothing but enjoying each other's company. Both of us felt a little sleepy, but it wasn't from strenuous activity but out of doing nothing. Shouldn't that be what Sundays are all about?

For dinner, we went to an authentic Swabian restaurant (which is the name of the region that Tubingen is in) where I tried maultaschen, otherwise known as German ravioli. The pasta is filled with meat and vegetables and it is said on the olden days, Swabians made this dish so they could hide the meat from God and eat it during Lent and on Fridays. I washed this down with some German wine served in a glass cup (Danielle--you are right. It is pretty good.)

You would think Katrin and I would be sick of each other by now, but we went out for a drink at a student bar and talked for a while then we went home and had some tea and babushkas and talked some more.

I am reconsidering how I feel about Sundays. Maybe having one day of the week where the stores are closed and the streets are quiet is not the end of the world. Because then you can't shop or run your errands, and you are forced to relax. You can stay home, curl up with a book, go on a walk, spend time with a friend. As Katrin commented, you do nothing until you are bored of doing nothing. And that doesn't sound bad at all. Because by the time you have enough, then it's Monday again.


Me at the Cloister.



A very dark Katrin at the Cloister.



Midday dessert. I had a rustic tart made with really small plums.

Pure Perfection

The perfect place to be.

For the next few days, I am staying with Katrin, one of the Germans from Polish class, in a town in the southwestern part of Germany called Tubingen.

Katrin is such a good egg. She is a person who is impossible to dislike. Since I have last seen her, she has emailed me ideas for my upcoming visit. She sends me recommendations of places I should go. She was the person who told me about the German transit strike. She gives the impression as if I am always somewhere in her thoughts.

Meeting her on a connecting train to Tubingen (she was coming back home from visiting her boyfriend who lives five hours away), it was like reconnecting with an old friend. It's like time never passed. She possesses a certain ease and comfort that makes me feel like I have known her for years. I could talk with her for hours and never get bored.

Katrin is actually not from Tubingen. There is the place where she was born, the place she lived as a child, the place her parents live now. Tubingen is a big university town, and she is here to research and write her Ph D. If you want to know what it is about, you will have to ask her. It is way above my head. She's really smart. And a better Polish student than me. Not only does she take classes once a week, but in her bathroom is a map of Poland and a sheet of Polish grammar that she can review while on the seat. I tried to review it myself, but it too was way above my head.

I've told you that I love a small town, and Tubingen is close to everything I imagine a small town should look like. With a population of 83,000, it is not really all that tiny. But everything about it just oozes small in just the right ways. There are historical buildings, cobblestone winding streets, quaint shops, people milling about. It's the type of place where on a Saturday shopping, you would bump into all of your friends.

I asked Katrin if she thinks she will live here after her studies, and she says no.

"I need some darkness in life," she explained. Here, everyone has their perfect life in their perfect home, with their perfect university job, where their kids go to school with other kids who live equally perfect lives. It is too much of a bubble. I had to admit it was surreal walking around this place. I had previously questioned if towns like this existed anywhere except in my imagination, and now I know, they do! They do!

A huge fan of Polish Ham, Katrin knew just the place to take me in town: a café for some German cake. We both had the marzipan which was just the right combination of crème, fruits and cake with just a light touch of alcohol.

Her apartment is huge by New York standards, and as she tells me, by the average student's standards living here. She probably has the best view of the city right from her bedroom, where you can see trees and the river and town skyline. She lives with another girl and they are down one roommate, so I even have my own room. I considered putting a sign on the door, saying "Yvonne's Room" but it seemed a little dorky. "Keep Out" a little rude. It was just fun having my own room again.

Speaking of dorky, in Munich, I went to this store that sold all kinds of chocolate to get something for Katrin as a thank you gift and came across this awesome advent calendar made by Lindt in the shape of a Russian doll. But what really sold me was that they claimed that inside the box were chocolates of "mini babushkas."

I almost got the calendar for her but the thing was probably as big as my torso and I was afraid she would wouldn't find mini babushkas as awesome as I did, so I went for the more conservative box of chocolates. But then we were in the supermarket, buying some salmon for dinner, and we not only saw the advent calendar, but mini-babushkas sold separately. We had no choice but to get the minis. They were really good--just hollow milk chocolate--but we considered writing a letter to the company to suggest that they have smaller versions of the mini babushkas inside the mini babushkas. Now that would be something special

Tubingen is nearly perfect, and in terms of a host, so is Katrin. She cooks me dinner. She feeds me wine and cake and chocolate. She lets me do my laundry in her washing machine and dryer (dryers are actually not common in Germany). She gives me warm socks and blankets and asks me every five seconds if I need anything else. She was really tired from staying up late the night before, but despite that, she talked with me until 11 at night to amuse me.

How can you not like Katrin? It's impossible.


Katrin in Marktplatz.


The mini babushkas

Two strange occurrences happened today.

"German" coffee and cookie.

The first involving the crew of Japanese girls who are staying in my room. I made the mistake by agreeing to stay in the "female only" dorm which means that I have to share one bathroom with five other girls. The "mixed-sex" dorm would have been preferable had I known.

Anyway, these girls don't speak English, but what I know about them from being their roommates for two days is that they are the type who like to get up really early, start talking to each other despite the fact people are trying to sleep, and then hog the bathroom. Today the chaos started at 7 am. I tried to sleep through the chatter and showers and then they left the room and I happily slept until a little after 9. When I finally got out of bed, they all came back in and rushed into the bathroom to brush their teeth, even though I was literally standing right there with my shower bag.

Then there were two girls in there at one time, and finally when they exited, I tried to go in and one of the girls stopped me and did the universal "it smells in there" sign. Wait, but there were two girls in there at the same time. I didn't even want to know.

The second strange occurrence involved me sitting in Starbucks (I gave in to American globalization because I was cold and needed a bathroom and it was there. Plus they had chocolate chip cookies--my favorite--and I haven't had one in months. It was a terrible cookie, but that is besides the point). There was a woman sitting next to me for a long time typing on her computer, when all of a sudden, she ran outside and pulled out her toddler from the stroller that parked outside the window. I think the kid had been sleeping and looked pretty covered, but would you ever leave a sleeping baby outside a restaurant alone in 30 degree weather? Weird!

I did have a moment in Starbucks, however, feeling like one of those people who have nothing to do all day but sit and hang out in Starbucks without a care for the world. It felt pretty good, not gonna lie.

Besides these two instances, it was a quiet day, and it was a quiet day on purpose. While yesterday, I intentionally tried to meet friends at breakfast. Today, I didn't feel like it so I kept my head down. That's what I love about hostel living. You can do whatever you want, depending on how you feel.

While the tour yesterday was great, it meant that I did not learn my way around the city because I had been following someone the whole time. So today, anytime I tried to go somewhere, I would get lost. I could never find the street names on the map, so then I would try to go by instinct. My instinct was always wrong.

I first went to the brand-new Munchner Judisches Museum (otherwise known as the Jewish museum). I am kind of fascinated by the way Germans handle their role in World War II. When I was in Poland, I liked to ask my German friends what they think about it and how they learn about it in their history books. Apparently, there is a huge emphasis on learning and understanding and remembering what happened.

For that reason, I was interested to see what this place was all about. I actually found it less than stimulating. It mostly talked about Jews in Munich, and there was a section that explained the different holidays and items of the Jewish faith (like the Torah, for example) which just seemed really simple and basic to me.

The one part I found really interesting was a timeline of Jewish history in Munich and it was just plain awful: Jews blamed for the plague. Jews not allowed to have jobs except as money lenders. Jews having property taken away. For hundreds of years it went on and on. It was kind of startling to see it laid out like that.

After some more wandering around and getting lost, I walked through the English Garden, which is a park in the city that is bigger than Central Park in New York and Hyde Park in London. Apparently, there are a lot of nude sunbathers here during the summer, however, I didn't see any of those lying on the snow. I did see some runners which made me nostalgic for home. I actually thought a lot about going home and finding a job and pondering what life will be like when I get back.

I am trying to stay in the present, but it's hard when there is so much uncertainty awaiting me around the corner. But if there is anything I learned about myself on this trip is that I can handle uncertainty and sometimes a little uncertainty can actually be quite fun.

The Jewish museum.



The English Garden.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Today was the perfect day. Really it was. Funny how such a good day can come right after such a bad one. But this, I think, is the life of a traveler.

It started with meeting a great partner in crime. During a very satisfying breakfast of yogurt and granola, I met Ana Elena, a like-minded traveler from Mexico City, who was in Munich for the day in between visiting her sister who lives in Germany and traveling to Barcelona. We both decided to go on the free walking tour of the city offered by the hostel. It was excellent; one of the most informative and entertaining tours I have been on this trip. The guide was awesome, and even though it was really cold with on-and-off snow, the sun was shining and the sky was blue which is a sight I haven't seen in a week.

Some things I learned about Munich (with apologies to my German readers, who will probably find this a little trite):

The entire city of Munich was destroyed in World War II. The Nazis, knowing the city would be destroyed during the war, took detailed photographs of the city to be used to rebuild it after the war. These photographs were used to rebuild the city as it looks today. There are only three remaining original structures: The two towers of the Frauenkirche church, the glockenspiel and the statue of the first king of Bavaria.

Frauenkirche church.

Glockenspiel.

The only remaining statue (and yes, the i-phone is in Germany).

Munich is the birthplace of the Nazi party. Hofbrauhais, the most famous beer hall in town, is also the place where the party had its first meeting.

You have to pay taxes if you own a dog. The more aggressive the dog breed, the more tax you pay. However, you can take your dog everywhere including restaurants and stores. You cannot take dogs into hospitals or pharmacies, so these places have dog-parking lots, where you leash your dog outside.

Dog-parking sign.

The average beer consumption for Bavarians is 1 and a half liters a day. Some people have something written in their work contracts that they are entitled to one beer during the workday. Companies abide as long as it is after one in the afternoon.

You can buy gummy bears at the pharmacy because they contain real fruit juices and vitamin c.

Pretzels in Munich: Much better than those in New York City. Trust me. Can't even compare.

After this informative tour, Ana Elena and I felt like we had a good sense of the sights and history, so we spent the day wandering around the city. First, warming up with some traditional beef soup with pancake dough floating on top. Then some shopping at the Galeria Kaufhof, a large department store that was frankly too conservative for my taste. But we spent lots of time there and were excited to find traditional German garb for sale. Ana wanted to dress up like German maid for Halloween, but these were no measly costumes. The outfits cost about 300 Euro each! (That's about $438 US Dollars!) Still, we both grabbed an outfit and ran to the dressing room and tried them on. We were both surprised to discover that the white ruffled shirt on top was really a half shirt that bared your belly. I loved wearing that little German outfit. One of the best experiences of the day, really. So much fun.

Me in traditional garb.

Afterwards, we decided to eat some real Bavarian food, so we went to the same place where we had soup. I got this crusty roasted pork that was mostly fat, with sour mashed potatoes and a little potato ball. For dessert, apple strudel and vanilla sauce. You can guess which part of the meal I liked best.

We had walked through Hofbrauhais, the famous beer hall, during our tour earlier that day. There, we saw lockers for beer mugs that regulars could use for storage. We also saw (at noon) an extremely intoxicated drunk geezer who took out his teeth and waved them around to the table next to him. Based on what we had already witnessed, we thought it would be a fine establishment for an after dinner drink.

The place was booming. We joined a table filled with a traveling tour group. The group was young and diverse, from places like South Africa, Australia and the States. A traditional band played. We got some giant mugs of beer and clinked glasses and said "Prost!" Soon, we saw our tour guide and some others from the hostel, and it was like musical chairs, people coming in and out and talking and laughing and drinking in one big shuffle. It was touristy, it was loud, it was bad. I loved it. I don’t even like beer.

When it was time to leave, an old man approached me and starting speaking to me in Polish.

"What are you doing in Munich?" he asked as if we knew each other. "Are you Polish? Give me a kiss!"

Ana pulled me away just in time.

"He has been kissing every girl who walks by," she hissed.

"But how did he know I speak Polish?" I asked, amused.

We walked back to the hostel. I had the hiccups. I was cold. But I had the great feeling of that today was just right in every way.

My view of the Hofbrauhais beer hall.

Me and Ana Elena.

Our super-hero waiter who carried a dozen heavy mugs at a time.