Complaint – Page 2 – paralyzedbynotcaring

Everything Was Beautiful, and Nothing Hurt

After I was bailed out of debtor’s prison, I made a Billy Pilgrimage in the rain to find where Kurt Vonnegut was imprisoned during the bombing of Dresden.

It rained quite a lot and I used both an umbrella and a stunningly flattering plastic poncho. I had only vague directions to the location as the tour guide was on vacation this week and blogs about finding the location were not encouraging. Along the way I found an old friend.

Ahoy. I avoided puddles and cross referenced cross streets for a total of almost 6 miles, all the time thinking that if Billy Pilgrim could survive being navigated through space and time, I could tolerate a bit of rain.

After many dead ends and incorrect assumptions, I found the building complex where the Slaughterhouses used to operate. You can tell because the last remnant of the meat industry is in the parking lot–a small statue of a cow.

The complex as a whole looks like this.

According to some blogs, there is a small sign commemorating Kurt Vonnegut somewhere on the street, but I never found it. There is also supposed to be a room dedicated to him and Slaughterhouse-5, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty Dance with Death, which I was also on the hunt for.

I approached the gate with the same rain soaked shuffle that has become my summer stroll in Europe, passed by the security kiosk, and began looking in windows like a proper trespasser. Germany has done very little–nothing, really-to encourage tourists or any member of the literati to visit this site. In fact, I was told to leave. Yes, as KV and PB were forced to stay, I was forced to leave. Luckily I have an uncomfortably convincing dumb blonde expression and this, as it has may times, allowed me to do what I wanted. I found the door to the slaughterhouse.

It looks upsettingly similar to the door I took a picture of in Amsterdam, though this time I could stomach a selfie.

Yes, when I found the door, the rain cleared and the sun shone on it and the security guard permitted pictures despite my wet hair and soggy feet. I wanted to stay and try to find the room with all the historical information and KV’s quotes, but Germans are not overly welcoming and German security guards mean business.

So it goes.

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!

Water that’s gone a bit off

Today I wanted to hike to the Church of Our Lady which is one of those ancient romantic buildings Dresden is known for. On my way I stopped at an ATM to make a w/d but my card was declined. It was declined again at the four subsequent ATMs. Instead of being rational and postponing panic until I’ve called the bank, I start sweating and breathing like I’m in a marathon (though an argument could be made…). I sit at a cafe and order a water.

They bring me this abortion.

… Mineral water? Are they trying to kill me? Mineral water is especially evil because at first it seems like everything is okay in your life. You’re sitting in a nice cafe in a beautiful city in an ancient country. You’ve had some financial issues but it’s ok you have some emergency cash. It’s hot as Hades but look, you have this

this

… what is this. I didn’t know water could go bad. Oh, it’s mineral water. It’s water with minerals. Basically it’s mud. Served in a wine glass. Who are these people. Where am I. What am I doing with my life.

Inter-German travel

You may recall I mentioned that my train ride from Berlin to Dresden would be short and not have any transfers. These are both true, but it also managed to be the most uncomfortable train ride so far.

I know, I can barely believe it myself. It ended in tears before it even began–err it began in tears. It doesn’t matter–it made an old lady cry (not me).

At Berlin HBF (main train station) I stood around the departure board for an hour waiting for my train to display which track it will be departing from (no benches). It wasn’t listed until about 25 minutes before departure. This is not convenient for me for so many reasons, no the least of which is my get-there-early neuroses. Another of which is that this station is four stories and full of stores. It’s basically a mall with trains. So you could be three stories away from where your train is going to depart and have only 25 minutes to fight the crowd, lug your suitcases, figure out where the track is, and get there. If this seems like plenty of time, you’ve never seen my walking pace.

When the train finally displayed I had that familiar problem that my ticket had only MY destination, not the train’s destination, so I had to do some cross referencing and no-internet research (aka talking to people). Don’t forget to schedule that into your 25 minutes. After I’d been waiting at the platform (standing, no benches, can I just complain about how there are so few benches at a train station? Don’t people get there with bags and crap and then have to wait? How are there not enough benches? People were sitting on the floor. It was not ok. Put in some benches, good grief) and an echoed German PA reverberated across the tracks. Some people in my crowd started shuffling away. An English translation followed: the platform for my train had changed. Time to move again! Yay!

The train was late and people were clamoring to get on. I had an assigned seat on car 259. I wish the cars on the train were more numerically sound (idk, maybe #1-12?), because 259 wasn’t that easy to find and I didn’t have a lot of time or space to look. The crowd was bottle-necked between the train and the staircase and everyone was sweating like this was some other German train. I had to run down the platform after breaking away from the crowd and push my way on to the train before the doors closed. Everyone else did the same. No one was on the right car. The narrow aisles within the train were jam packed with people trying to pass each other with all their gear when the train started to move. The lady behind me, old enough to be my grandmother, had a tissue over her face. She was shocked the train would leave before she could sit down. I was pretty indignant at the lack of organization myself, but now I am far too jaded to be shocked. I looked at her ticket and discovered we were heading in the same direction, so I told her she could follow in my wake of destruction. She didn’t laugh so she must be German.

When I finally pushed and ducked and jumped my way to my seat, people in the area near me were complaining that more tickets than seats were sold, so that is why the aisles were crowded with lingerers like on a rush hour subway commute, except with luggage. Germany totally wins for most disorganized country. It took me about 40 minutes to push my way to my seat, so the 2 hour ride passed pretty quickly once I was sitting with my luggage in my lap (there was no room on the racks and the aisles were already full of people).

I did manage to bail off the train in Dresden (no easy feat with the aisles still full) and found not only sunshine but a delightful lack of crowds. It is even less crowded in my airbnb where I have been recovering my nerves.

I miss having a car.

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.

Hallo from Berlin

Yesterday I traveled from Amsterdam to Berlin. There was only one transfer that was a bit difficult, but only because my reserved seat was in the very first car and I had to walk along the length of the train for a long time. When I say I walk I mean run madly waving my ticket so they don’t leave without me. Always a pleasure.

It was of course raining because that is what it does in Europe. The rain however did treat me to this as I sped across the German countryside.

That’s a rainbow, in case it’s too light to see. Only three trains and a taxi ride and I was at my airbnb in Berlin (Kreuzberg district–west Berlin) meeting my new roommate Molly.

She likes to sleep on shoes and watch you eat snacks. I got in about 8pm and my other roommates asked if I was going to go out lol. Anyway the streets were bedlam because Deutschland and Italia were playing futbol. It only got crazier after that penalty kick.

Today then was a bus tour. I was very happy to find one somewhat easily, considering that the tourism office was not where it was supposed to be and two policemen had no idea where it was.

However, the bus driver wasn’t all that helpful and the tour guide said most things in German. I did make out that the bus loop map wasn’t going to be followed because of all the street closures due to the soccer game. Soccer. Why do you keep ruining my vacation? Unfortunately this meant the bus tour was a bit haphazard and I couldn’t keep track of where we were supposed to be on the tour guide, let alone where we actually were. The stops were not announced by their names or by their numbers on the itinerary. I thought Germany would be the most exact in general and especially in this manner, but soccer. Soccer. Soccer. The tour guide did mention that Albert Einstein went to college here right across the street from where the bonfires ate all those piles of books. I’d rather know which bus stop we were on, frankly.

My tour included a boat trip up the Spree river. Did you know that Berlin has more bridges than Venice? (Side note, the boat tour in Amsterdam said that Amsterdam has more canals than Venice, but fewer bridges. I think there is some serious Venice-envy happening all over Europe.)

The plus side is that the boats serve drinks.

Do not be seduced by how bright and sunny these pictures look. Berlin has a horrible case of hotcold. When the sun is out, it is a punisher. Then a cloud comes by and everyone puts on parkas and watches their breath fog. I believe hotcold is a form of torture, am I right? I did feel a few rain drops, but they seemed to be isolated incidents.

The bus tour did not yield a lot of photo ops, mostly because I didn’t know what I was supposed to be looking at until it had already passed by and the English announcement finally started. This bus tour is really failing. Did I mention it had no wifi and the Coke Lite I bought on board was undrinkable because the tab came off without opening the mouth of the can? I am dis. pleased.

However, despite this oppression, I did manage to take this stunner.

Bam. That my friends is Victoria, goddess of, you guessed it, victory.

I am not sure what Germany won or what this is in relation to. It looks to me like she’s surrendering anyway. I didn’t ask because I was already having an attitude about my wasted diet coke that was 2 Euros. I have discovered that when I am not around someone I feel compelled to please (I am a people pleaser), I easily fall in to being sullen and misanthropic. Not following YOUR OWN ITINERARY adds to this. Hotcold torture adds to this. Lack of wifi adds to this.

Lastly, the bar I read about on Lonely Planet is only a block away from my airbnb and I was all set to try it until I read that it doesn’t even open until 10pm. I like to be well into my tylenol pm/wine stupor by then. Maybe tomorrow, but I doubt it.

Tomorrow I will go to the museum island, though I can’t decide which of the five museums to explore (don’t say five, you know I can’t).

The bus drove by parts of the wall, which I figured out before the English version announced it, so maybe I will investigate that area as well. It’s quite famous.

I am reading Catherine the Great.

“Isn’t it strange that I who have written only unpopular books should be such a popular fellow?” – Albert Einstein

Probability

I think the weather station here should just say winter is coming and leave it at that. Yesterday the forecast was 0% chance of rain and it rained. Today had a 90% chance and there was no rain. Two things: one, stop with the percentages. You don’t understand probability. Two, I was not prepared for how winterlike summer in Europe can be. Barcelona was scorching hot, but everywhere since has had more than enough rain/wind/coldness. KB tried to tell me to bring a jacket, but that sounded like such nonsense to my California brain. Now I’ll probably have to buy one when I head further north. 90% chance of that happening.

Because it was supposed to rain I didn’t plan all that much to do today. I went to the Hermitage Museum, which had a Catherine the Great exhibit and a Dutch People in Large Groups exhibit. Here is Catherine the Great’s everyday outfit.

Just a FEW layers there. Here she is posing with a pimp cane.

Just put that vat of diamonds over there, please.

She apparently was large and in charge and liked snuff quite a lot.

The other exhibit was literally a bunch of huge paintings of groups of Dutch men looking around for wine and/or women. Observe.

What the hell is happening here. They came, they ate, the looked around. They put on their knee ribbons and got all fancy. But where are the women? I can’t decide if they are anxiously awaiting them or resigned to keep eating and drinking until it doesn’t matter anymore.

Outside where it was 90% not raining there were some statues of a few favorites, starting with this party animal.

In vino veritas, right?

And of course, my astrological ruler.

Goddess of love, beauty, victory, and other important things like prostitutes.

Getting a little hungry? I found the restaurant I had been looking for yesterday and ordered this pizza.

I had to cut it myself because everything and I mean everything is eaten with a knife and fork here.

Now, you may be thinking, no rain, good art and food, seems like a perfect day, right?

I thought that too.

Until.

The Return of the DEMON.

The “Diemen” stop is just a few before mine, and guess how Diemen is pronounced?

Demon. I’ve been riding his train this whole time.

Mind. Blown.

Thanks, Obama.

0%

Today weather dot com said there was a 0% chance of rain for Amsterdam, so I put on my sandals and walked about town. First I went to the Rembrandt House Museum. This is his actual house before his debtors made him move into more humble accommodations, and it is full of many of the things he hoarded, such as busts of famous men, art, and taxidermy.

Here are some of the heads he had staring out into space. Perhaps one or two look familiar?

This is a pile of books. He read a lot about art.

The house itself is a normal Amsterdam tall-and-skinny affair with a narrow spiral staircase and large rooms with lots of windows. He had his own studio and another studio for his students. Every room had paintings; he was a collector and a dealer as well as a painter. I am not sure if this one is his, but it is in his entry way–a room that served as a gallery for what he had for sale.

I particularly like this Jesus picture because the puppies seem to be totally feeling the divinity and Jesus looks like he is failing at trying to get some coffee incognito.

Some people say that Rembrandt couldn’t draw, or else why are his brush strokes so messy and wild? Well, actually Rembrandt did a metric ton of sketch work and drawings. His painting style was just that, rough around the edges but exact where it mattered.

Here is one of his drawings.

Those strokes outlining the leaves are pretty frickin precise.

After Rembrandt’s house I decided to get some cookies I read about on Pinterest. It was quite cloudy but I persevered and found the most perfect chocolate cookie ever made.

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It might not look like much, but it was still warm.

Does this picture look blurry to you? Well that is because this cookie was so good I started shaking. Look at that vanilla creme filling–also still warm and extra sweet. I had to sit down to eat it because my knees were knocking together.

I somewhat recovered from eating this cookie by eating a second. By now it was starting to get a bit blustery and the clouds moved quickly across the sky. That is what 0% looks like here, I guess. My plan was to go to dinner at the place the Pinterest lady who recommended that cookie liked (clearly she and I have compatible taste), and after examining my map I took off.

Along the way, can you believe it, I found a canal! Here is a picture. Later I came by a tall tower and just as I was deciding which way to turn, it clanged into action.

I did that thing I do where I run away from loud noises. Unfortunately I ran (slash shuffled along at my unique walking pace) about eight blocks in the wrong direction. it was raining steadily now, and the wind had picked up. Taking out my map resulted in flapping futility. I took the first tram that said Centraal Station and just ate a snack at the station before catching a train back to my room.

0%–bah. Always bring your umbrella!

XXX

The city’s coat of arms, or what I would call a logo, is XXX. Apparently it does not refer to the liberal attitude towards sex workers here, but rather to the three disasters the city has survived: water, fire, and pestilence. So when you see a pole with XXX on it, like this one

it just means you are in Amsterdam. It has NOTHING to do with the lady who was just sitting in this nearby window.

I also learned that you are not allowed to take pictures at the Van Gogh museum, so these three that I took are ILLEGAL.

The first one is of a peasant lady working her ass off. A lot of his paintings are rural. Most of the people working in the paintings are women, whereas the people who are sitting around doing nothing are usually men. I was going to take more pictures to illustrate this point, but I got in trouble with the museum anti camera campaign.

Just look at this workin girl. Bent and dark and almost moving.

Now look at this guy.

Chillin smokin a pipe.

I actually took a photo of this painting because the subject looks JUST LIKE my airbnb host. There were several other paintings that better proved my point about the female vs male subjects, but I didn’t want to get escorted out. Imagine the page 17 headline, “San Mateo Co. Resident Kicked Out of Most Accepting Country on Planet.”

Here is the final picture I took before the axe came down. It is called “The Potato Eaters.”

Earlier in his career, VG thought this was the one that was going to make it for him.

I’d never heard of it before.

Not that I know much about art, but when I thing of VG I think of flowers and landscapes and his self portraits and oh yeah idk a starry night sky? (Starry Night is actually in NCY right now so I didn’t get to see it).

I did see his famous “Almond Blossoms,” which KB and I did excellent copies of a few years ago at a wine-and-paint event, and the sunflowers, and the smoking skeleton. Also about 500 others. VG did sketching/drawings, was a prolific letter writer, and he spent a bit of time in an asylum. Also, those blue irises on all the greeting cards? Yeah they used to be purple. The more you know.

Outside the VG Museum is the Iamsterdam sculpture/sign, so I took this obligatory shot.

It wasn’t raining yet, so I walked to the Heineken Experience, which is an interactive tour/museum/tasting at one of Heineken’s original brewery locations. No brewing happens there anymore, but a lot of the old equipment was there. I don’t really drink much beer. That’s a lie. I never drink beer. But the tour was right there and I had a discount card and when in Rome/Amsterdam. Well, today I drank more beer than I have had in the last ten years and I think my stomach is dying. I learned that I have been drinking beer incorrectly in that you must not drink the foam. What did we learn about beer? FOAMY!

Probably a bit more than 99 bottles of beer on this wall.

To settle my stomach, I had some ribs.

I ordered these based on a yelp review, and then people at the tables on either side of me ordered them also.

I think these ribs cured my beer disease stomach problem and would prescribe them to anyone with a similar or dissimilar ailment. By the time I was done with dinner, it started raining. Luckily there was a tram stop nearby and I was able to figure out how to get back to the train station. Navigating Amsterdam isn’t easy because the bikes are everywhere. I read that there are a lot of bikes here, and I thought well I’ve survived Davis, CA, how different can it be?

Very, very different. The city is basically designed for bikes, so pedestrians just have to look the hell out for their lives. Suddenly that cheery brrring-brrring of a bike bell becomes the sinister sound of death by pedals. I already hate crossing streets–I know everyone is out to kill me–but here each intersection involves cars, taxis, rickshaws, stoned pedestrians, city buses, motorcycles, trams, double-decker tour buses, tourists, and a swarm of bicyclists. It is a total circus and when the rain started, complete with tent-like umbrellas. Bikes have their own lanes, but they share them with motorcycles. It’s just all a little too much sharing for me. I was so paralyzed at an intersection, a bicyclist pointed at me and then motioned for me to go. I clearly need assistance.

You have probably long since figured that out.

Organized chaos

Amsterdam is crazy. I have never seen a more organized train ticketing office nor a more frantic city square. I don’t know what to think about Dutch people. They will sell you marijuana energy drinks (oxymoron?) but you have to buy cigarettes and matches separately.

In other news, I found a bus tour.

Yeahhhhh sitting down and looking at things. I love a bus tour. Amsterdam has three tour lines, but two of them are in BOATS.

I hate boats.

However, unlike in Bruges where the tour boats were small and the number of people on them was large, here the boats are huge and only a few tourists hop on at each stop.

I am ok with this boating system. I still think boats are death machines, though.

From the canals I saw many pretty sites, such as these houses.

Which seemed lovely until this bell of the ball rolled by

Most of the places here, as in Bordeaux, are limited to four stories and traditional facades. I think it’s working for this place.

Here are some bridges.

In Bruges, people would sit near the edge of the canals and eat and chat. Here, people dangle their legs over the side of the canal wall and drink and smoke. It’s the subtle differences that make all the… difference.

No sign of the DEMON. I think either this is his den or I’ve shook him for good.

Tomorrow I’m going to either the sex museum or the Anne Frank house. I guess it just depends on my mood.

“ROSENCRANTZ: We might as well be dead. Do you think death could possibly be a boat?

GUILDENSTERN: No, no, no… Death is… not. Death isn’t. You take my meaning. Death is the ultimate negative. Not-being. You can’t not-be on a boat.

ROSENCRANTZ: I’ve frequently not been on boats.”

— Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead

Category: Complaint