Germany Roundup, part 2

DAY 3
WEDNESDAY

Woke up in the morning, and after a hearty DJH breakfast of rolls, cheese, salami, and museli (mmm…continental), headed out to the Hauptbahnhof (one of my new favorite German words, meaning “main train station”) to catch the train to München. German trains are, as expected, way better than American trains. Above each seat, there’s a tiny LCD screen that shows if the seat is reserved, and for what segment of the trip it’s reserved for. Saves a lot of time and trouble. Also, the train bathrooms are really spacious. I mean, you could fit three people in there if you wanted to.

On arrival, we checked into Wombat’s, a cheery hostel near the Hauptbahnhof that was packed with other disreputable backpackers like ourselves. Interestingly, it was also the only hostel in which we had roommates, although we only met them later. We had three beds in an 8-bed room, which always contained at least one Australian during our time there. Australians are everywhere in Europe, apparently. We dropped off our bags, grabbed another döner kebab for lunch, and headed out to explore.

We hit the usual tourist spots, taking in the Aldstadt (old town), a beer at the Hofbrauhaus (not too full of tourists, since it was about two in the afternoon, the Residenz, and on up to the Englishergarten. There, we settled into a beer garden with huge pretzels and liter mugs of beer to wait out a sudden rain storm. As a side bonus, we got to meet Annette, a Canadian just coming off a stint of European English teaching and headed back to Canada before moving on to teach English in Shanghai. After the rain stopped, we all walked back towards the hostel, while Annette told us all she had learned about Munich’s Third Reich-related history on a tour earlier that day.

With visions of the Beer Hall Putsch thus dancing in our heads, we grabbed a beer and a weißwurst (well, I had the wurst, as Scott and Justin don’t eat of the pork) for dinner and headed back to turn in.

Observation for the day: It’s surprisingly easy to drink a liter mug of beer.

DAY 4
THURSDAY

Up bright and early to catch a tram over to the Herz location where we were to pick up the car we’d have for the next two days. After taking two subway lines and a 15-minute walk to get there, Scott discovered that he had neglected to retrieve his driver’s license from the hostel, where it had been left as a deposit for the room key. Apparently, even in super-lawless Europe, they won’t let you drive without a license, so back we went.

Second time was the charm (despite not technically having the voucher for our rental in hand), and soon we were all piled into a BMW hatchback, striking north towards Nürnberg, guided by our (thankfully) English-speaking GPS system, soon named “Betsy” by us.

Bullet-point itinerary for the day:

• Eichstat — Small town with a festival going on downtown, concert stage and rock band included. Stopped at a snack stand where we encountered limited English for the first time, which somewhat stymied Scott and Justin’s quest for non-pork comestibles. I had a currywurst, which is sausage covered in a ketchup-y sauce and curry powder. Tasty.

• Adenburg — Great views from the top of the castle tower, but unfortunately, a fumbled handoff resulted in a short sharp shock to my camera which put it out of commission for the rest of the trip.

• Nürnberg — Charming city…in our pictures, it looks like it’s dominated with canals, but it’s just a few diversions of the river. Poked around a bit, but didn’t spend much time before heading south again.

• Aying — Home of Ayinger beer. We stopped here for beer and food, and encountered several parties of Americans running the one English-speaking waitress ragged. I had the Weiner Schnitzel and enjoyed it thoroughly.

Observation for the day: Apparently, for Germans, “a little” (as in “I speak a little English”) is code for “perfect”.

DAY 5
FRIDAY

The day of Epic Driving:
Left Munich at 8:00 am.
Arrived in Freiburg at midnight.

First stop: Garmisch-Partenkirchen, site of the ski jump for the infamous 1936 Olympics, and home to a pretty cool gorge you can hike through while glacial melt drips down your back. Also home to pretty good pizza.

Next stop: Schloss Neuschwanstein, the famous “fairy-tale castle” built by the (supposedly) mad King Ludwig II of Bavaria. We didn’t go inside, but we did hike up past the castle to the Marienbrücke, site of the classic views of the castle and surroundings. For anyone who’s interested, I almost had a coronary hiking up. Spectacular view, though. The sort you could look at for hours.

Next stop: Lindau by the shores of Lake Constance. Another beautiful town, but it was the excellent meal that kept us from killing each other and put us back in a mood fit for human contact. I had the pike-perch with a big latke on top. Tasty. Of course, on leaving, we found that the mall attached to the garage where we had parked was closed, and the machine we needed to use to pay for our parking was inside. Despite my suggestion that we drive down the entrance ramp, Scott and Justin eventually managed to attract the attention of a lingering mall employee to let us in so we could leave.

Final stretch: Lindau to Freiburg. As we entered the Black Forest on the final leg of our journey, we went from long, straight stretches of road where we traveled at around 180 km/hr to narrow descending switchbacks as we burrowed into the tree-draped scenery. Genuinely creepy stuff, but Betsy got us through, and after playing spectators to a brief dispute between the desk clerk and a party who were trying to overstuff their room, we checked in to the Black Forest Hostel and hit the hay.

Observation for the day: While I was pleased that we could figure out what a “geldautomat” was, I was disappointed that it didn’t dispense chocolate coins covered in gold foil.

Germany Roundup

DAY 1
MONDAY
Spent the day in packing and other last-minute preparations before leaving for the airport. On arrival, stood in lines, where I ran into Matt and Janet, friends of Kirsten’s I know from her get-togethers, who were headed to Paris for a week.

While going through security, I was called back by the TSA staff member running the metal detector (never a good thing), and asked if I was “the” Brendan Short. Turns out he was thinking of Brandon Small, but I was flattered nonetheless. Sort of.

On the plane, the woman across from me blogged, while the guy next to me told me about his upbringing in New Hampshire, and how he was moving to the Bay Area to be with his girlfriend, who was attending school there. Apparently, this trip is all about encountering my alternate selves.

Observation for the day: I’ve always said that Small is stealing my schtick.

DAY 2
TUESDAY
Arrived in Frankfurt, met up with Scott and Justin, and checked into the hostel. Dazed from traveling, we grabbed a döner kebab and took a look around. Dinner of Apfelwein and other Frankfurt specialties…I had the Frankfurher Grüne Sasse, a melange of chopped herbs and yogurt over potatoes and eggs. Apparently Goethe loved it. Called it an early night, what with going to Munich tomorrow.

Observation for the day: If there’s an English menu to order off of, does that automatically mean you’re at a tourist trap?

Very brief post from a youth hostel computer in Freiburg, Germany

Germany is great. Lots of fun, even if Germans don’t seem to have any use for cold drinks that aren’t beer (or sometimes mineral water). Spent today wandering around the cool Black Forest town of Freiburg, which has tiny canals running through its streets.

Previously unknown (to me) fact: German computer keyboards are different from American ones. The “Y” is in a completly different place, which is seriously fucking me up when typing.

Tomorrow, we’re off to Heidelberg by train.

A more complete trip roundup will be coming around Wednesday, once I’m back and have had a chance to sleep.

Going to the Country, Gonna Eat Me a Lot of Bratwurst

I’m going to Germany tomorrow for a week and a half. July’s a busy month for me, and the trip is the point around which it all revolves. At some point I should really pack.

I’ve been wondering over the past few days if I should be feeling ambivalent about visiting Germany. I know plenty of Jews (mostly older, but some in my own generation) who wouldn’t go, on principle. I think that’s taking things to an unnecessary extreme, but I’ve found myself wondering if I shouldn’t at least feel ambivalence about it. Maybe wondering if I should is producing some meta-ambivalence that serves the same purpose. In any event, it’s my first trip to Europe in four years, and my first week-long vacation for two. I intend to enjoy it.

We’ll be hitting Frankfurt, Munich, Freiburg, and Heidelberg over the course of eight days. Most of the planning has involved whittling what we intend to do down to a manageable amount, and also facilitating Scott’s desire to drive the Autobahn.

I’ll see what I can do about posting one or two updates while I’m gone, perhaps from some Teutonic Internet cafe, but no promises. There’ll be a trip report when I get back, though.

Also on the docket for when I get back is my purchase of an iPhone. Sure, I don’t really need one, but I probably don’t need two computers and a portable video game system either. The point is that I want one. Soon, I’ll be checking Google Maps at every intersection, just because I can.

July 4th, 2007

In a way, the Fourth of July reminds me of Yom Kippur. In recalling the ideals that we’ve fallen short of, both can get pretty glum, which is probably why we set off all the fireworks. Makes you wonder why the Jews haven’t tried the same thing. For the past few years on the Fourth, I’ve gotten into the habit of reading the preamble to the Declaration of Independence (before they get into the long list of grievances against George III.

We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness — That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just Powers from the Consent of the Governed, that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its Foundation on such Principles, and organizing its Powers in such Form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient Causes; and accordingly all Experience hath shewn, that Mankind are more disposed to suffer, while Evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the Forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long Train of Abuses and Usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object, evinces a Design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their Right, it is their Duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future Security.

Jefferson’s words are inspiring, and a reminder of the deceptively simple truths that our country is founded on. I recall on one occasion becoming increasingly frustrated in attempting to have a political discussion with my grandmother, centering around people who were critical of the United States. I gave up finally when she told me that such people were just jealous because we lived in the greatest country in the world. On cooler reflection, however, her statement made me think. Clearly, I reasoned, she couldn’t have been talking about the country as it is, with problems to numerous to get into here. I think that what she was talking about was the ideal, what this country can represent. To her parents, the generation that crossed eastern European borders illegally in the dead of night to get here, this was the Goldene Medine, the Golden Land. It was the place where their vision of a better life could come to fruition. To a large degree, that vision has come true: my family has prospered, and my grandmother has seen (for example) her grandchildren graduate from prestigious colleges. Only in America, I can almost hear my great-grandparents whisper. From their perspective, their hopes are validated, and this is the greatest country in the world.

Digression: I once discussed the same topic with a college roommate of mine, and found that his parents, who had met in (if I recall correctly) a refugee camp in Bangladesh, spoke of their reasons for coming to the U.S. in exactly the same terms as my grandparents described their immigrant parents as using. Hardly an earth-shattering observation, but it brought home to me how this country is, must be based on a shared vision of why we are all here.

In a way, however, those of us who grew up here have lost that perspective. We didn’t come here seeking a vision; this was what we were born into. If there’s to be a vision, we have to seek it out for ourselves, and when we start down that road, the first thing we tend to see is where we fall short, and it’s a long trip to get past that to where we can see what might be.

A bit of folklore: There are a lot of stories told about the 19^th century New Hampshire-born lawyer and legislator Daniel Webster. One says that if you stand by his grave late at night, you’ll hear his voice come rumbling up from the ground to ask “How stands the Union?”

I’ll be honest. I wouldn’t want to have to answer him.

On Humor, part 3

The joke, in and of itself, is hardly a specifically Jewish form. The following is from an English joke book published in 1583 (quoted in The Oxford Book of Humorous Prose):

There came unto Rome a certain gentleman very like Augustus. The emperor noticed him and demanded of him if his mother had sometimes been to Rome.
“No,” said the gentleman. “But my father hath often been.”

That having been said, they do make an early appearance in Jewish literature. Consider the following, taken from the Talmud (compiled by the 7^th century CE, quoted in The Big Book of Jewish Humor):
(N.B.: Purim celebrates the deliverance of the Jews from the machinations of Haman, counselor to the king of Persia. Mordecai is one of the heroes of the story.)

Rava said: “A man should get so drunk on Purim that he can’t distinguish between ‘Cursed is Haman’ and ‘Blessed is Mordecai.’”
Rabbah and Rabbi Zeira once made a Purim feast together. They got drunk, and Rabbah went and cut Rabbi Zeira’s throat. In the morning, Rabbah prayed to God, and brought Rabbi Zeira to life again.
The next year, Rabbah again invited Rabbi Zeira to join him for a Purim feast.
“No, thank you,” said Rabbi Zeira. “A miracle may not happen every time!”

Digression: One of the editors of The Big Book of Jewish Humor, Reb Moshe Waldoks, in addition to having featured in The Jew in the Lotus, is the rabbi at Temple Beth Zion in Brookline. I’ve had the chance to pray with the congregation a few times, and it’s a great experience. And since Reb Moshe makes a point of introducing himself to everyone who attends, I can say with near-honesty that I’ve met him.

So the joke isn’t exclusively Jewish, and Jewish humor isn’t exclusively jokes. What, if anything, is the relationship, then? Is there, in fact, any correlation between the entrance of the Jewish humorous tradition into the American mainstream and a golden age of the joke as the humorous form? I think there’s something to be said for the connection. I mentioned in my previous post that I feel the joke as a form is appreciated particularly by people who are interested in how humor works, and I’m going to extend that a little and say that I think that that attitude is particularly in harmony with the traditional Jewish intellectual mindset. In a sentence I’d like to have written myself in the BBOJH, Novak and Waldoks say: “Jewish humor is also fascinated by the intricacies of the mind and by logic, and the short if elliptical path separating the rational from the absurd.” A people who will produce a work like the Talmud as the collective enterprise of several centuries, a people who are used to constantly walking the tightrope between righteousness and survival, a people still adjusting to the shift from oppression to prosperity, a people like that produces a mindset self-conscious enough not just to pick apart something so elemental as humor, but to actually enjoy doing so.

Sure, it’s a lot of theory, but this is the Interweb. I don’t have to actually prove anything.

I’ve discovered over the course of writing this that I’ve got more to say on the topic of humor than I expected. I really thought that this would be just one post, and it’s turned into three, and each longer than expected to boot. There’ll probably be more forthcoming on this topic, but to keep it from taking over my life completely, I’m going to cut it off here.