Art – Page 2 – paralyzedbynotcaring

Another day another country

Yesterday we travelled from Hamburg to Riga, Latvia, by plane (I was able to talk Dad down from he We Have To Take a Ferry insanity), but our flight wasn’t until after 7pm (19:00) so we had time in Hamburg to continue to enjoy the LGBTQ Pride street fair, which included hamburgers and a lot of really upbeat music. Every other street vendor was selling cocktails before noon. I had to pry dad away from this scene so we could see a few more sights, including city hall. I particularly liked city hall because there were plenty of benches.

We then walked down to the warehouse district, which is is prettier than it sounds.

The warehouses are made of brick and are separated by canals, as you can see.

It was an excellent day (barely a threat of rain), so walking so far from our hotel wasn’t as much of a gamble as usual.

We walked down to the Maritime Museum, where the largest collection of model boats is housed. Yes, one is made completely of legos. Also included are many beautiful paintings of nautical scenes. They basically look either like this

or like something seriously nasty is about to happen (not pictured). I particularly enjoyed the harpoons and knots.

Doesn’t the knot on the lower left look like a sea scorpion?

We also paid our respects to Leif, who sort of discovered America.

Not to be outdone, Columbus motions to the sun to settle down.

We took the train from our hotel to the main train station (our hotel was just outside the train station and it was very easy), but from the main train station the right train to the airport was a little confusing. The platform said airport, the train display said airport, but some displays said “first three cars.” Well, we weren’t sure if it was the first three cars from the engine or the first three cars from the platform and you better bet we guessed wrong. After several stops, the train paused for an unusually long time at the stop just before the airport. Another passenger, probably noticing our luggage and English, asked if we were going to the airport because if so the first three cars just left us. We jumped off the train to watch the first three cars scuttle off as though they’d just pulled the funniest prank on Earth. I should have known and I guess this makes Dad and me even for our trip through rural Sweden.

We got on the first car of the next train.

The main train station was much, much more bustling than the airport, which seems so strange to me. At any rate we checked our bags and had plenty of time before we boarded the bus to board the tiny plane to Riga. Many of the other passengers were men my age with long hair and rock band tee shirts. We guessed they were coming from a show (they were all pretty drained). Customs through Riga was a breeze as it was just walking by a lady leaning against a desk that had a “Customs” sign. Our taxi driver to the hotel was at least 7 feet tall. Dad fell asleep immediately.

Total miles walked: 6.7

Today was our first day in Riga, which is a small, flat (read: walkable) city. We found a post office and a bus tour without having to ask anyone, much to our mutual relief.

Here we are on the bus before I Hulk Broke the headphones.

We got off at the canal stop and then got on a boat with a five-year-old girl named Megan who objected to her life vest by protesting that she promised she wouldn’t get in the water anyway because she didn’t want to get her hair wet. The boat took us through the canal and into Daugava River. From here is a great view of their wedge-shaped library.

Here we are on the boat.

On a side note dad only looks happy when he doesn’t know I’m taking a picture. As in above, when I ask first, he gives this are-you-serious face. Candids from now on when possible.

After the canal tour we walked around old town and came across a few sights I’d read about on the fountain of information that is Pinterest.

We looked inside the Riga Cathedral.

Much stained glass and ornate molding, of course.

While I was taking photos like this one, Dad was busy documenting the retrofitting on the load-bearing columns.

We were also able to pretty easily find the Freedom Monument.

Latvia became a free country in 1991.

This small memorial is from the Baltic Way, when people from Estonia through Latvia to Lithuania joined hands for freedom in 1989.

We also came across this statue of a donkey, pig, cat, and rooster. It is supposed to be good luck if you can touch all four. The statue is tall though and I could reach only the donkey and pig. Half luck for me, half something else I guess.

I also serendipitously spotted the house of the black cat, which I think is just like every other house except that way back when the owner was trying to join the city’s guild, he was denied, so he put a black cat sculpture on top of his house and faced the cat’s rear end at the guild’s office. The guild relented, the home owner was admitted, and the cat’s ass now faces a different way.

As far as lore goes, this story seems watered down. I bet there is a REAL version out there somewhere.

Anyway, I remembered from the tour bus narration something about the house of the three brothers, so I was trying to guide us by it as we made our way back to the hotel. The streets here are anything but a symmetrical grid, so it is easy to trapezoid yourself out of orientation. Dad and I walked up a block, around it, looked at the map, but neither of us could see anything noteworthy or any signage. We didn’t notice the gaggle of tourists across the street aiming their cameras at us. We didn’t notice when a tour tram came up, stopped, unload a bunch of people who also took our picture, load up again, and then trammed off. We held the map upside down. We looked up and down the street. We tried to remember what the house of the three brothers even was and why it was mentioned on the tour. I noticed finally that a) the people across the street weren’t moving b) they seemed pissed at us, and I put together that we were right at the house of the three brothers. I took a picture of what everyone else seemed to be photographing:

As far as houses in Riga go, this one seemed pretty plain, but who am I to judge? I think things built before 1950 are old.

Now that I’m back at the hotel I did a quick search and realized that my map and/or memory was a poor translation. It isn’t house of the three brothers, but rather the Three Brothers, three consecutive houses that are the oldest in Riga and represent the three major architectural themes. So as it happens i took a picture of the One Brother. And the homeliest one at that.

Finally we had dinner at B-Bar, a place we chose because of its Black Balsam drinks. Black Balsam is a Latvian liquor made from, among many other things, wormwood. So either it was all a bit of hype and we made it back to the hotel ok OR this is the most G-rated trip ever and I am face down in a beautiful cobblestone ally waiting to be awakened by the street cleaner.

Birthday boy

Today is Dad’s birthday so I woke up before God and we spend all day out and about. We rode the tour bus to the tour boat, where it promptly started pouring. The boat was uncovered, so we dashed across the street to the Christiansborg Palace. Right outside is this horseman and a statue of a slain polar bear that doesn’t need to be mentioned ever again.

Also outside is another building with this spectacular spire–three dragon’s tails winding towards Valhalla.

Once inside the Palace and safe from the rain, we put the required blue footie protectors over our feet and walked through the rooms to admire the artwork, history, and architecture. My favorite room was the Queen’s Library, which had books dating back to the 18th century.

Many of the rooms were large, with artwork depicting Danish history and molding so detailed it told its own story. Each room had a theme (Green Room, Velvet Room, Swedish People on Horses Room, etc.), but the throne room was different. It is oval rather than rectangular, and the floorboard pattern was designed keeping in mind that people had to face the throne as they departed, walking backwards. Stay one the right pattern track and you can back into the hall.

The larger throne is for the queen, naturally.

One room, the largest, had dazzlingly detailed tapestries of Danish history from Vikings to modern day. They were given to the Queen in 200o for her birthday. Though very colorful, I found them to be a bit overwhelming, and had to focus on finding little details or neverland or nemo. Well, look what I discovered.

There she is–the Last Unicorn! You really never know what you are going to find in a tapestry.

After the palace it was still a bit drizzly, so we had lunch and then took the bus to the mall. Dad wanted to find some Danish winter sweaters, but as it’s August this proved to be too much. I, however, did manage to find not only golden bobby pins but also a jacket that fit around my boobs. Wonders never cease.

The sun came out and we were able to make the last boat tour of the day. Dad was very happy to finally be on a boat.

We motored through to the end of Nyhaven, a beautiful canal/street. I was particularly interested in this street because HC Anderson of Little Mermaid fame once resided here. I don’t know exactly which house was his but they all look pretty much like this.

He wrote well over 100 fairy tales, many of which still get play today. I seem to recall there is a good podcast ep about him from Stuff You Missed in History Class where I learned that he was a bit eccentric and poverty stricken. What, a gifted writer, living in poverty? Nooo.

From the boat we got a decent though fleeting view of the Church of Our Savior, in all it’s winding glory.

The tour guide says it’s an easy 400 steps to the top.

Maybe tomorrow.

This boat tour differed from the others I’ve taken in that the bridges are VERY low to the water. Sitting in the boat was safe, but you could easily reach up and touch the bottom of the bridge as we passed under it. I ducked just on principle. Other than that, it was a good boat tour.

It being Dad’s birthday, we went out to dinner to a place with candles and real napkins. On the way, we passed this gem.

That’s right, Tycho Brahe has a planetarium just down the street from our hotel. You may recall I mentioned Brahe in my post about the Kepler Museum in Prague. Brahe is a famous Danish astronomer known for his meticulous data records and larger than life personality. I might be half in love with him.

Once we made it to the restaurant, Dad learned about water coming in a bottle, paying with a card at the table, and that no check will ever come if you don’t ask for one. We had smoked salmon and steak and panna cotta, all of which were excellent.

Tomorrow we are taking the train to Malmo, Sweden (the ferry doesn’t run between Copenhagen and Malmo anymore according to sources*) to see the Swedish sights.

I am still reading The Family Romanov and Good Behavior. Dad is reading** Coyote Blue by Christopher Moore.

*Google

**holding briefly before falling to sleep

D’Orsay

Today is my last full day in France. I took the train and the metro to Paris proper to visit the D’Orsay Museum, which I have never visited before.

Back on the metro–luckily no one made pee.

On the walk from the metro station to the museum, I caught sight of that famous radio tower.

The museum has sort of a crazy floor plan made even more incomprehensible by a “map,” so I did the thing where you wander. I played my museum games: spot the dogs in the paintings, check the mirrors in the paintings, find the weirdest Jesus. The last game was quite a bit more difficult than it has been because many of the pieces of art glorified landscapes, ordinary objects, and Greek/Roman myths. I took a picture of what I thought was a soul being dragged to heaven by angels and presented to Jesus only to realize it was Zeus and I felt like a bad Christian. This was not my first sin, though. Hell, I’m a fan of all seven. And upon realizing this I found Silent Hill Jesus:

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If this isn’t the creepy crawliest Jesus ever depicted, I don’t want to know.

I saw some familiar faces, including this Monet:

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And I met a few new pieces with particularly beautiful lighting from within the painting:

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I stopped when I came upon this next one, mostly because the crowd was such that I could not pass. You know how you automatically pay more attention to paintings that other people seem to be killing themselves over? I try not to do that because art is so subjective, but the more I looked at this one, the more I was convinced the whole world has gone insane.

What sort of vegan pagan bad facial hair picnic is this? I have so many questions. Where is the real food? Is the guy on the right holding an umbrella? Why is she naked if it’s going to rain? What is that other girl doing–pulling out a splinter? And why is this nakedly nude lady glaring at ME as if I’m the one out of place? This is a very uncomfortable piece and I was not happy to be stuck in a crowd around it. Nuts.

Last but not least I saw this reminder for RS to call Dr. A.

And on the way back to the metro station, I stopped in for the obligatory french pastry.

I had the apricot tart (second from right).

As a subplot update, Dad went to the Wells Fargo in Red Bluff and convinced them to issue another replacement ATM card for me, so when I meet Dad in Copenhagen tomorrow, he will have it with him. It is easy to complain about small towns, but sometimes they are the best thing ever.

I am reading The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood & rereading the Scandinavia chapter in Rick Steves’ book.

Another day another trdlnik

After a wholesome brunch

I made my way to Mala Strana, “Lesser Town,” where the Kafka Museum is. Here you can find glorious buildings such as this.

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Ignoramus that I am, I thought Kafka was German, but he was born in Bohemia, and said of this city “Prague never seems to let go of you.”

The Kafka Museum, in a word, is strange.

I guess I was expecting a glamorized bookstore with some letters and portraits of Franz, but what I got was a sort of maze through a dark attic that began with pictures of Prague during FK’s lifetime, his family tree, and his ferocious letters to his father. Then around the corner is a movie screen, the top half leaning forward, showing imagines of Prague with quotes about FK’s society. To the right are round tables illuminated from within showing books, portraits, and descriptions of the literati FK admired. Around the next corner was a tall file cabinet with certain drawers permanently opened. Some contained FK’s correspondence, some his sketches, which were mostly of a man’s silhouette hunched over a desk. Further on are screens hanging from the ceiling, each one showing a black and white picture of one of FK’s loves. Below the hanging portraits are remembrances of each affair, pictures, quotes, and letters. The museum is very dark and each exhibit is so brightly lit it’s like a star in a night sky. Through the next hallway is a semi circular table with letters asking for a reprieve from insurance writing work due to health. Kafka was educated as a lawyer and spent his working hours writing law stuff for an insurance place. The next hallway is a modern mausoleum, each square with an engraved plate with a FK character engraved on it. Everyone knows that mausoleums are big freaky cereal boxes of death, so I didn’t examine the name plates after I found our dear Mr. Samsa. Now you curve around through a white hallway with a curve such that your shadow and the shadow of the person ahead of you meet and create a totally new shadow that follows your motions but looks nothing like your own silhouette. Next is a sort of movie room with a projection on the far wall and a mirror on the wall to your left. As you sit, the images reflect from the mirror and join your own reflection. First a shadow of a man waking along a path, but getting no closer to the castle in the distance. Then a fence. Then fog and clouds. You are in this movie with this walking man, and before you are stuck forever you leave and find some first editions along with sketches made for The Metamorphosis (In the sketches, Gregor’s body is a dark red with black legs). The proofs of FK’s final work The Castle, which FK worked on as he was slowly starving to death due to cancer of the larynx. Then more letters about his health and finally his obituary. He succumbed to TB, as if throat cancer wasn’t enough.

Overall this was not only a strange experience but also uncomfortable. There was no single exhibit that was repulsive, but finding the way through the darkened museum with other people seemed almost intrusive, as though it is ok if *I* drop in on FK’s subconscious (or regular conscious, as in his letters to his daddio), but with other people there it seemed too public. It’s unlike any museum I’ve ever seen.

I crossed the bridge in the sun with everyone else ever born.

I visited a second museum today, a tiny one dedicated to Johannes Kepler, astronomer. I have a special interest in Kepler because of his relationship with Tycho Brahe, a Danish astronomer and notorious party animal (Google how he died). Kepler is pretty famous among science types, and to those people I would like to point out that the horoscopes Kepler wrote were just as respected as those “laws” he’s so well known for. Kepler and Brahe had a sort of difficult work relationship due to Brahe’s larger than life ideas and personality and Kepler’s quiet insistence on being treated as an equal, not an assistant.

Here’s a statue of these two scallywags.

This is a sketch of a pavilion-like structure showing that Kepler’s ideas were based on those who came before him, such as Copernicus and our dear Mr. Brahe.

There’s the Dane.

Though the museum was small, it had charm and I’m glad I happened upon it.

No sign of the demon since yesterday when I was locked in the basement.

Though I did find this.

Sweet dreams.

Locked in the basement

My airbnb is a basement studio in a normal Prague apartment building. I have the external key, the mail key, and the studio key. There is however a door from lobby to the staircase to the basement that I was told is rarely locked, but my external key should open it if it happens to be locked.

It was locked this morning as I ascended out of the cave. The light in the staircase is motion detected, so it kept flicking off as I turned the key first clockwise, then counter clockwise, then half clockwise and full counter, then flip it and reverse it, then pull the door shut more tightly and try again, then jiggle everything, then start sweating, then continue sweating, then keep sweating so that a decent grip on the keys is impossible, then imagine being locked in a basement in Prague and going feral, then jiggling the keys more until someone happens by and opens the door from the lobby.

After that episode of Fear Factor, I went back to try the strudel version of the trdelnik, which was tasty but even more of a challenge to eat. It wasn’t even noon and I was already through two challenges.

The Old Town Square was as picturesque as ever.

I went to the Prague Castle, which is the largest castle complex in Europe. It really is a complex–many different types of buildings in a sort of ye olde business park. By far the most beautiful was the St. Vitus Cathedral, which, and I can’t stress this enough, is large.

It’s bigger on the inside.

As you might imagine, there are many beautiful statues and windows of stained glass. My favorite stained glass window is this one.

And wouldn’t you know it, another depiction of the giant holding Jesus’s body on the cross, this time in silver with many embellishments.

At least in this one he looks like he feels guilty for showing up a bit too late.

Also in the complex is St. George’s Basilica, which houses these bones.

When the top three google search results didn’t include whose bones these are, I abandoned the project, making this the shortest episode of CSI ever. You’re welcome.

Part of the castle was built by the Empress Maria Theresa–that’s right, Marie Antoinette’s mom was always hard at work. This was when the Habsburgs of Austria were all over Prussia.

Look what I found there.

Fifty points to Gryffindor!

Also abounding were sharp objects.

And the inspiration for Nimbly from the Never Ending Story II!

Now it is time for my final challenge of the day, which occurred on my bastion of safety, the dear old tour bus. I was sitting in the front of the bus so I could see out the windshield and hear the tour guide easily. The tour guide was joking with the driver about asking out a female tour guide when a car cut in front of us and the bus came to a sudden and jarring halt. I was thrown from the window seat to the aisle seat, where thankfully no one was sitting. The driver of the car that cut into our lane rolled down his window and started yelling and gesturing at the bus. The tour guide and the driver then ran out of the bus and chased the car down. It was a total scene from cops except no cops. The keys to the bus were still in the ignition so I drove the battered tourists to safety JOKE there’s no place safe. Haven’t you learned that from my blog yet? I didn’t have to drive us anywhere because the driver in the car fled the scene to much yelling and fist gesturing of the tour team and honking from nearby cars. It was all very manly.

The narration from the tour guide was more heavily accented from then on.

I went to Sephora to buy some sanity.

I found a Sephora

There is a deathly dearth of Sephoras that people don’t warn you about. It’s like the opposite of a plague but twice as ugly. On the tram from my Airbnb to the Old Town Square, while I am diligently reading each tram stop in true Rain Man fashion, I see the familiar white and black stripes and gasp. This is the same reaction other people might people have when they see the Charles Bridge or the Castle or whatever. The Sephora was a good omen, because almost immediately afterwards, I found the trdelnik:

Oh boy. This is something new: a warm thin doughnut dough rolled in cinnamon and filled with soft serve ice cream. You cold also fill it with strudel filling and whipped cream or any combination of many things. Though this resulted in endless crumbs (still finding them) and a sticky everything, good god it was worth it.Eating it was like living art.

After I plowed that down and went into a sugar coma, I found the bus tour. Yes! This bus had A/C (sort of)!

We saw some sights and stopped at some points to take ho hum pictures like this one.

We drove by the Dancing Building, which is modeled after Fred and Ginger. Guess which is whom.

We also passed the church of my favorite saint, Mr. Ignatius.

It was around this point that our tour guide let on that the president of the Czech republic has a reputation for speaking publicly while intoxicated and that there is a fun internet game that provides a quote and the player must decide whether it originated with the Czech president or our Mr. Trump. Everyone laughed and then opened a vein and then threw themselves off the Charles Bridge.

I did a bit of walking around and a lot of city streets. A lot of buildings are adorned by fancy molding or sculptures or busts or reliefs like this craziness:

I don’t know why. I came across a street market and bought a cheap fan for the impending death by heatwave scheduled to start tomorrow.

I walked across a bridge and took pictures and took pictures for other people, after which I was sure to leave before they were able to figure out that I could see nothing through anyone’s display screen and hoped for the best like a true artist.

Across the bridge and through the park I found the John Lennon Memorial Wall. It has even more graffiti than the East Side Gallery of the Berlin Wall, but this one didn’t seem as disrespectful. Maybe because there was a barefoot musician taking requests with his guitar. Can you imagine how many times he must have to sing certain songs? I requested something by The Who, but I was informed I’d have to provide my own lyrics. Serves me right probably.

I learned this pose from FL.

From the JL wall I made my way to the Charles Bridge, a pedestrian-only tourist magnet. There are many statues along the bridge, and it is apparently customary to take a picture of every. single. one. I have to say by this time my hands were tired and decided on two statues.

This first one is probably a giant saint holding killed Jesus’ freshly dead body, still attached to the crucifix. This wins for weirdest Jesus of the day. Where was this giant when the deaths were going down? Fe fi fo gtfo, boom, Jesus saved. The bible is so crazy this way.

Notice the lighter areas on the two lower panels. People kept coming up and petting these areas, which may explain their color–I don’t know and I’m afraid to Google it. I petted the dog on the left as it seemed more… seemly.

The other statue on the bridge that made the cut is this almost autobiographical piece.

Friends: Please hang out with us! You are so fun and smart and hilarious! Don’t leave yet! We love you the best! Please!

Me: Sorry I have three books, and I have to get my beard waxed, bai. (Not a joke, AL).

If you thought there were to be no more pictures of statues, you were mistaken, because this crazy thing is the first thing you see when you get off the bridge.

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I feel like he’s inviting me to reenact with him that pivotal chalice scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

One good thing about Prague that I didn’t know is that if bridges and skylines and sculptures don’t do it for you, you can always just make your own fun.

The return walk to the tram was a bit meandering after I realized the stop I used this morning does not have a stop for the reverse direction, so I lingered to observe the sun and river while trying to forget that taking a taxi in Prague isn’t usually the best alternative to trams.

And of course I ran into this gentleman.

Alien? Demon? Doppelganger?

Don’t judge. This is what happens when I don’t have regular access to a Sephora.

I am reading Daisy Miller and Princesses Behaving Badly by Linda Rodriguez McRobbie.

God and art and banks and tears

Today I went to the gallery in Zwinger, which is three stories of paintings and sculptures. I was unsure if pictures were allowed, so I had to take the obligatory snap of the best painting of Jesus on the DL.

This is baby Jesus accepting a pimp cup from the Magi. Magi know how to get down.

There are lots of other pieces of art I liked. One in particular was painted with very dark colors and impossible to take a pic of, but it was of Beatrice hiding and listening to Hero and Ursula “talk.” It was refreshing to see a) a story I knew well depicted and b) not Greek or Christian.

This portrait of Our Lady of Decadence also caught my eye–Marie Antoinette of course.

Notice how the painter included me in the background–so modern! Let’s not forget that she charmed European countries into helping us bloody colonialists fight the British. Respect the cake.

This museum is known for this work by Rafael. Does it seem familiar?

Does it?

I’ll let you think about that while I go to dinner and have dumplings.

German food is delightfully salty and filling. I also enjoyed the decor.

Unfortunately when I ordered NOT mineral water, I got SPARKLING mineral water, which is doubly bad. It tastes like medicine for the disease of life. I drank it anyway because while I was in the museum, I left my pack at the coat check and someone went in there and loosened the water bottle cap and let it leak all over my everything and so I had no water. Soggy train tickets are stuck to my umbrella now.

After this glorious meal I visited the Church of our Lady. It is quite a building. Here it is with Martin Luther and another one of his damn books. I decided to climb to the top of the dome (only 8 Euros!)

It’s not as tall as the tower in Bruges, right? I’ll be fine, right?

I start out and it’s going pretty good. Look how new and reasonable these stairs are.

Ok go a little farther, and it gets a bit narrower. No big deal.

Now ascend the ramp around the perimeter of the dome. It’s only a 60 degree angle what’s you problem why are you panting and sweating and crying?

You better woman up because now there is a ladder.

Ladders don’t take any shit, believe me. And you’ve got to be close, right?

Yes, just a few of these ellipses and

Don’t look down and

Boom! This view of Dresden–

And this view of the inner dome.

And of the teeny tiny people attending the services below.

The view from the top is pretty spectacular, and no one else was up there so I got to enjoy it without photobombing some other tourist’s panorama.

Across from the church and down a bit is the Opera, with that statue of a horse and a man I’ve posted before.

Nearby is the Hilton, which has an ATM in its lobby. I went to make a withdraw but was denied–this was particularly irritating because yesterday I had the same problem and called my bank and was told the hold was lifted. Also, I am lower on cash today than I was even yesterday when I had a super fun panic attack. Another call to the bank (3 actually, because my international phone kept dropping the call) revealed a significant amount had been drained from my account, and I had to do an unemotional reckoning for all my transactions for the last week. It was not fun and someone in Berlin has a lot of my money. A. Lot. Let’s delay the rage about how this person could access my money but I could not, and the righteous indignation about how this person will likely never be caught. Just keep that smoldering in your pocket for now and deal with the logistical issues–how do I get cash? Many places here are cash only, notably the taxis and buses, which I will need to travel into Prague in two days. My bank has no international relations, so I am totally on my own until a new ATM card is delivered to my airbnb in Prague. I did make the bank lady cry, so at least I have that.

This post is dedicated to RS for coming through with a wire and remaining cool as I turned into a ragecake.

This picture is for her.

Time to call Dr. A!

I’m drunk here’s some pictures

Today I walked a bunch of miles in the wrong direction and finally asked a human how to get to the theaterplaz. She spoke hurried German, pulled a cheese cutter from her purse (I swear), grabbed my arm, and then pushed me into the street.

It gets weirder.

I later realized that the bus stop I wanted is nicknamed “the cheese” which semi explains the cheese cutter, but how was it in her purse? Really?

Just now I’ve come back from the Italian restaurant down the block and they have martinis there that come garnished with a tiny orange tomato every time. Consequently here is a picture-heavy blog post.

First here is the crown on top of the zwinger.

Here is a fountain and a head.

Happy to be on the bus tour.

Here is a somewhat elaborate timepiece.

Here is a two-horse power contraption that our bus was trapped behind.

Technology prevailed.

But they like horses here.

I think this is a guy with a 1st gen ipad and the tiger from the Hangover.

And Jack Skellington asking What’s THIS?

Here’s just a regular house no big deal.

And I didn’t see the DEMON but I did find this hood rat.

I broke two nails trying to unlock my airbnb door so here I go to lie down before more tragedy.

The wall

Today I went back to examine the remains of the Berlin Wall. It’s not in good shape. It’s falling apart.

Parallel to the wall is a walkway with a timeline describing pivotal social and political happenings in Germany in the 30s and 40s. It wasn’t a load of laughs. Nearby is Checkpoint Charlie, which looks like the entrance fee kiosk of a lesser state park, except with more tourists. On the building overlooking the checkpoint was this love note to Vladimir P.

I also visited the East Side Gallery, a part of the wall decorated by artist. Unfortunately a lot of the art was defaced by graffiti, so most of the gallery had a chain link fence around it, ruining the effect of the different artwork.

Much of Berlin is covered similarly with stickers and graffiti.

I took several more shots of the East Side Gallery and a few of the checkpoint, but my wifi in this airbnb is weak and my high tech way of getting pictures from my phone to my computer–emailing them to myself–is not cutting it.

Berlin has been the most modern city I’ve visited but also the city most impacted by history. One particular message spray painted on a hotel wall read “The past is OVER.” Clearly people are not over it.

Tomorrow I travel to Dresden, which is a short (no layover) train ride away. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it an “easy” day–let’s not get ahead of ourselves–but I won’t have to switch trains, and that is a welcome change.

Germany doesn’t seem to celebrate the 4th of July

Which meant everything was open as usual. I continued with my bus tour (I’d purchased a 2-day pass) and it wasn’t so bad today–not because the stops were predictable or announced, but because by now these irritants were familiar. I love familiar things.

As promised I went to Museum Island. Now, erase the image of a round island with beaches sloping up towards a ring of five museums. “Island” is a technicality; these city blocks are bordered by a river and a few canals. And, after having seen the Mississippi River, the Spree is really just a large canal.

Once on this island, I decided to visit the Deutsche Museum.

I think this is a picture of the outside of the museum. I took a lot of pictures of a lot of old style buildings today and they start to look similar. Sometimes I wish the tour guide would say, and look, a totally modern and unremarkable building! I’d take a picture of that.

Germany’s history is really just European history, so I saw many elements similar to pieces in Dutch and Belgian museums; however, there were deffo more weapons here.

I got to touch a chain mail tunic and it was certainly not mithril. It was heavy AF and all the inter looping chain pieces pinched my arm hairs. Being a knight was no joke.

Probably my favorite exhibit was the old books section. This is one of the bibles that Martin Luther translated into the common tongue. That guy was super cool.

I can’t read it but it was open to a page with a picture so it was like Jesus was speaking right to me.

My favorite of my favorites was this religious liturgy book.

Isn’t it so so pretty? What aren’t books like this anymore? It’s got to be cheaper to manufacture them now than it was THEN. Come on people. No wonder reading is on the decline.

A painting that caught my attention was this portrait of Marie Antoinette’s mom.

She was on fire her whole life, too, it seems, being in charge of all sorts of stuff and things and then trying to give advice to Marie A and her NINE other children. Can you imagine? All while dressed like this? What a multi tasker. What an inspiration.

A German museum wouldn’t be complete without a huge statue of Victory.

I did a slight google and learned that the large, golden Victory statue I posted yesterday was in reference to a war with Prussia. It’s easy for me to forget that there were loads of wars and country reorganizations before that fateful day in 1776 exactly 240 years ago TODAY.

There were more modern pieces of pop art in this museum, too, but things get a little dicy when recording 20th century Germany and I opted to skip it and head for the Brandenburg Gate, which is the gate to Berlin.

It is closed.

I am trapped.

Well they’ve walled off this gate. I stood there in its shadow but all I could think is that the statues of the four horsemen reminded me of Angel season 5. The structure is impressive though the effect was diminished by the restricted area. I am not sure but this might be due to SOCCER. That sounds right. I’m going with that.

I tracked down the bus, but unfortunately it was the last bus of the day, so I didn’t stop at the wall. I did take a picture from the bus.

That’s the wall in the middle of the frame. It is fenced off so you can’t walk along it, but you can drive just along it outside that fence. On the right side of the fence is a memorial. Down on the other side of what remains of the wall is Checkpoint Charlie. I did not get to investigate this area yet, but I did see an American flag and that made me feel better about being abroad on the 4th.

Here is a statue called “Berlin.” The locals call it the Dancing Noodles, but it is (I think) supposed to be broken chains/liberty/freedom/etc.

Never mind, it’s spaghetti.

The tour guide went on and on about this new(ish) government building. I am not sure if it is the parliament or just another parliament-ish place, but the glass dome on top allows anyone to peer down into the offices of the government officials. The symbolism here being that the common folks are above the government, not the other way around, and that government work is transparent. The guide did end by saying this is purely symbolic because he’s never been able to tell if people down there are working or just playing on their computers.

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This is a pretty cool building what with all that symbolism (I’m a sucker for that) but my favorite building so far has been this one.

To the right is the TV tower. This gorgeous grey and green giant is the Berlin Cathedral.

I am still reading Catherine the Great. I caught a painting of her in the museum and I recognized her by her eyeballs and jewels. Both are stunning.

Category: Art

Another day another country

Birthday boy

D’Orsay

Another day another trdlnik

Locked in the basement

I found a Sephora

God and art and banks and tears

I’m drunk here’s some pictures

The wall

Germany doesn’t seem to celebrate the 4th of July

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