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.