das Chaos

I think I take my newly developed German ability for granted now. For the last week, I've been in Croatia, and nothing makes you feel more foreign than not understanding anything anyone around you says. I just started my return trip toward Munich, and although the trip was enjoyable, it feels good to be heading back to a place where I feel at home.

I've gotten used to German order, German punctuality, and German the language, and part of the reason that I took this trip to Croatia was to get away from that. Not that I don't like those things, but a change of pace is always good. Admittedly a much larger part of the reason I took the trip to Croatia was that Rostock has been cold and rainy for the past 4 months and I wanted to spend some time in the sun flirting with skin cancer.

I booked the trip rather spur of the moment and really didn't plan it at all, so for part of the ensuing chaos I am to blame. A large part of it was, in my defense, totally endemically Croatian.

The first theme of this trip has been train problems. Right out of the gate, my train from Rostock to Hamburg was stopped dead by a downed tree, which forced me to stay a night in Hamburg and head out the next day. In Munich, the train to Zagreb was very typically eastern European, crowded, loud, kinda shitty, and due to passport checks at the Slovenian border, an hour late. I spent some time in Zagreb, but only about 2 days. Zagreb doesn't really have that much to do in my opinion, but that's ok, I don't want a thrill-a-minute vacation. I wanna relax.

This is a giant cemetery in Zagreb. It was kind of creepy that this was a tourist attraction.

This is how most of Zagreb looked...It's a good thing I came in the summer; in winter it can be depressing.

I then decided to head to the coastal town of Split. Buses are the typical mode of transport in Croatia, but while googling bus fare, I stumbled upon news of a recent bus crash in Croatia that killed 8, so that, along with the fact that I wasn't entirely sure where the bus station was, caused me to just buy a train ticket. This train was a fairly high quality train, I thought, until it dumped us in the quaint mountain village of Gračac. Much to my dismay, two buses were dispatched to pick us up and take us the rest of the way. I kind of crapped my pants a little bit when I realize that my seat belt didn't work; they probably hadn't repaired it since the last bus crash.

In defense of the Croatia trains (and buses), they are totally worth it compared to flying, because the landscape of Croatia is utterly gorgeous, and if you just stick to the cities you would never see any of it.

Split was a lot livelier than Zagreb. In Split there are beaches everywhere. Some are shallow and sandy, some are deep and stoney, all of them are pretty, none of their names are pronouncable.

Just gorgeous!

I spent the whole day on the beach. Like I literally didn't do a single thing.

Split is a very tourist-oriented town though. As I stepped off the Winnebago of Death that shuttled me from Zagreb, I was assaulted with easily 10 offers for places to stay, like these people are on you like stink of shit once you hit the ground. Luckily I already had a hostel, and a pretty nice one at that. The rooms were spacious, air-conditioned, and this place was technologically tricked out! The bathroom however, was so small that one could easily use the toilet and wash his hands simultaneously...which I guess has it's advantages.

The first night in Split I checked out the old town with some people from the hostel. The old town is actually the palace of Diocletian, a Roman emperor, and it's stunning how well it's preserved.

I walked around the palace at night and it was worth it for sure.

Shit picture, but I stumbled upon a fire twirler.

This is the main tower of the palace.

I also wandered through the park west of town, which is also really pretty.

This plants fascinated me! They look like yuccas, and they may be, but I've never seen them that big.

The rock face on the mountains near town.

A view of Split from the mountain park.

I would recommend that you all watch the movie Eurotrip. First of all it provided 90 minutes of laughter, all the more if you've actually been to the countries it mentions, but more than anything else, this movie gives a decent picture of eastern Europe. Unlike the characters in Eurotrip though, since I was alone, I purposely avoided partying. The last thing I wanted was to wake up on Hvar surrounded by bricks of cocaine and handcuffed to the severed arm of an Italian prostitute...which I felt might have been a plausible outcome.

Easily though, the crowning glory of my time in Split was a side trip I took to the national park called Krka. Right. You're wondering how you pronounce that. Basically, insert an I after the first K, and make sure to roll the R like you're in Spanish class. Getting to Krka is another one of those clusterfuck bus connections. First a long distance bus to Šibenik, then a local bus to Skradin, then a park bus to the entrance. This time though it was totally worth it. This park is a natural wonder!

It's famous for its waterfalls, as you'll see.

Where's Waldo?!

I think that the take-home message from my time in Croatia is that you don't go to Croatia for its culture, architecture, or its history. Croatia has got natural beauty in spades. If I were going to do this trip over again, I would plan more time for camping and hiking, and I would have avoided the larger cities.

Oh Jesus, so right now I'm in a sleeper train back to Zagreb, I have absolutely no faith that I will make my connection to Munich, but we'll see. I have just been strong-armed into switching cabins with some dude by this Russian/Polish/something Slavic girl, who I'm convinced is either a spy or a mail-order bride. She came into my cabin before we switched asking stupid questions like “when do we get to Zagreb?”, that would be printed on the ticket. “Can you help me with my luggage?”, etc, etc. And now after 10 minutes of doing some Hustler-style gymnastics to get to said luggage, I shit you not, she is currently eating a banana with more gusto that I have ever seen, she clearly learned this from the KGB. I'm avoiding eye-contact.

die Atzen

Today's word is particularly fitting, if I do say so myself. „Atze" is a slang word from the Berlinerisch dialect. It means anything from brother or bro to fella or pal. The plural is Atzen. This weekend I got to go see my Atzen in Berlin!

Actually I went specifically to see a Cirque du Soleil show that is touring through Europe, and my friends also happened to be in Berlin for the weekend. Erm, I mean, uhh, I went for the sole purpose of seeing them, nothing self serving whatsoever. Gracia, Sergio, and Jennifer live in Berlin. Clayton and Joe, the Madgebrothers, live in Madgeburg, Adam is in Kassel, and Andrea is in Dresden, and we all met up in Berlin.

I am actually in the middle of a Berlin streak. I'm going to Berlin again next weekend and I'll have seen some more sights by the next time I post. I think I'll divide it up so that this post is about Berlin the city and the next post will be about Berlin the tourist location. Sound good?

If you just consider the cities proper, without the metro areas, Berlin is the largest city I've ever set foot in. I ended up liking it a lot more than I expected to. My only previous exposure to Berlin was the Peter Fox song Schwarz zu Blau (below, and just ignore the ape motif, it's too complicated to explain). Granted, Peter Fox is a rapper, so it sort of pays to exaggerate the poverty and criminality of your hometown. You don't hear many rappers reppin' the Hamptons, do you?

But in contrast to the line from the song which goes:

(German) Guten Morgen Berlin,
Du kannst so hässlich sein, so dreckig und grau,
du kannst so schön schrecklich sein,
Deine Nächte fressen mich auf

(English) Good Morning Berlin,
You can be so ugly, so dirty and gloomy,
You can be so beautifully appalling,
Your nights devour me.

I find my opinion of Berlin more in keeping with the quote from the Berlin Mayor „Berlin is poor, but sexy." Yes, he actually said that, and it's become a sort of slogan for Berlin. To be sure, parts of Berlin are dirty as hell, and I wouldn't call it the most beautiful city I've ever visited. Still, something about Berlin fascinates me. A large part of my fascination is the size of Berlin. All you have to do is hop on the S-Bahn, ride for 10 minutes, and you can completely change your impression of Berlin.

Another part of my fascination is the history in Berlin. I don't mean the history you find in museums, though there is plenty of that. I mean, when you walk into an apartment building in Berlin, you quickly realize that this building was there during the Civil War and that there was a family living here when WWII broke out. And since the houses have changed so little architecturally, it's very easy to picture the children running down the stairs 100 years ago to get to school in the morning. Everywhere in Berlin I was struck with this feeling of raw history.

I took a picture, and now that I'm writing this, I realize that it makes a point very well for me. I took the picture last weekend. On the left you can see The Berlin Cathedral, which was build in 1451. On the right-hand side, you can see the Fernsehturm (TV Tower) which was built in the DDR in the 60s, and in the middle, there is the Humboldt Box, which opened this year and is...wait for it....another museum! These three represent very well the ridiculously long history of Berlin, the almost depressing recent history of Berlin, and the bright current times in Berlin.

At this point I am more than a little in love with Berlin and I cannot wait to get back there on Friday.

To close, I'll leave you with another part of the song from above:

(German) Diese Stadt ist eben doch gar nicht so hart wie du denkst.
(English) This city is simply not as tough as you think.