My friend Kelly Pittl, perhaps the only person who ever reads my blog commented the other day that Europe isn´t in South America. This obviously was a dig at the title of my blog, ¨South America or bust.¨
While Kelly pointed out what I consider only a minor detail, I have renamed my blog to more accurately reflect my travels.
Thank you Kelly.
Friday, August 15, 2008
¨Your tango is a bit fruity¨
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I had been strongarmed into taking a tango lesson here in Buenos Aires and within 20 minutes, my dance partner (some Irish girl) leaned in and whispered, ¨your tango is a bit fruity.¨ What!!?!
My friend Caiomhe suggested that perhaps it was actually a compliment, but anyone who has seen me dance knows it was anything but. I mean, I think I´m the only person to ever enroll in Ballroom dancing during college and get a ¨C¨. Still, not a very polite thing to say--it´s not like my dance partner was any good either. Hmph.
I tried to shrug it off, but my second dance partner stopped dancing with me because ¨she was married¨ This, despite not wearing a wedding ring and being there with her mom. I mean, she mine as well have told me that she couldn´t dance with me because she had to brush her hair.
Never fear my friends...I labored on. I learned the basic eight step tango and just kept repeating it over and over. At the end, my teacher gave me a certificate for successful completion of basic Tango--and soon it will be proudly displayed on my wall.
After our lesson, we let the professionals take over. These guys were goooood. I imagine if I could dance like that, I would be showcasing my dancing skills every night. Maybe there is hope for me yet, but its going to take A LOT of practice.
During dinner, we unfortunately got stuck next to this miserable English gal who just wouldn´t quit talking. After a few quips about how horrible America is, I had to respond. I did my best to be civil but I certainly wasnt going to let this ninny trash my country. I turned to my friend Sorcha to make fun of the English girl´s accent and how ignorant she sounded with that annoying lisp. Sorcha turned and kindly informed me that it was probably because she was deaf.
Ouch. How embarrasing. There I was trying to be Joe Cool and instead, I ended up looking like an ass. I stayed fairly quiet for the rest of the night and skipped out of the afterparty. In the cab ride home I came to terms with the night: not only am I good at putting my foot in my mouth, but my tango is a little fruity.
My friend Caiomhe suggested that perhaps it was actually a compliment, but anyone who has seen me dance knows it was anything but. I mean, I think I´m the only person to ever enroll in Ballroom dancing during college and get a ¨C¨. Still, not a very polite thing to say--it´s not like my dance partner was any good either. Hmph.
I tried to shrug it off, but my second dance partner stopped dancing with me because ¨she was married¨ This, despite not wearing a wedding ring and being there with her mom. I mean, she mine as well have told me that she couldn´t dance with me because she had to brush her hair.
Never fear my friends...I labored on. I learned the basic eight step tango and just kept repeating it over and over. At the end, my teacher gave me a certificate for successful completion of basic Tango--and soon it will be proudly displayed on my wall.
After our lesson, we let the professionals take over. These guys were goooood. I imagine if I could dance like that, I would be showcasing my dancing skills every night. Maybe there is hope for me yet, but its going to take A LOT of practice.
During dinner, we unfortunately got stuck next to this miserable English gal who just wouldn´t quit talking. After a few quips about how horrible America is, I had to respond. I did my best to be civil but I certainly wasnt going to let this ninny trash my country. I turned to my friend Sorcha to make fun of the English girl´s accent and how ignorant she sounded with that annoying lisp. Sorcha turned and kindly informed me that it was probably because she was deaf.
Ouch. How embarrasing. There I was trying to be Joe Cool and instead, I ended up looking like an ass. I stayed fairly quiet for the rest of the night and skipped out of the afterparty. In the cab ride home I came to terms with the night: not only am I good at putting my foot in my mouth, but my tango is a little fruity.
The Eagle´s Nest
The name sounds too noble for Hitler´s vacation home, but then again, what´s in a name? The Nazi party built the house as a gift for Hitler´s 50th birthday. Perched on the summit of the Kehlstein mountain high in the Alps, the view is absolutely stunning from the house. Hitler himself only visited the house 14 times, apparently because he was afraid of heights. The historical significance of the house is its location: Hitler’s home and headquarters - the second seat of 3rd Reich power - were located at Obersalzberg, at the foot of the Eagle’s Nest mountain. The Allied forces destroyed everybuilding here...Hitler´s home, all Nazi posts, everything. Everything except for the Eagle´s nest. Today it is one of the last remaining building of the Nazi regime.
Nazi forces built the road, the elevator, and the house all in thirteen months. You actually take the original elevator up to the house that Hitler used. Mussolini donated the fireplace--sculpted from red Italian marble. Wood engravings throughout the house add to the allure of this beautiful home.
During the day, the house is used as a restaurant but tours operate around the clock. Its about 70 Euros per person, but worth the 4 hour trip.
Nazi forces built the road, the elevator, and the house all in thirteen months. You actually take the original elevator up to the house that Hitler used. Mussolini donated the fireplace--sculpted from red Italian marble. Wood engravings throughout the house add to the allure of this beautiful home.
During the day, the house is used as a restaurant but tours operate around the clock. Its about 70 Euros per person, but worth the 4 hour trip.
Arbeit macht frei...
...is a German saying that means, ¨work shall set you free.¨ This slogan was placed at the entrance of the Dachau concentration camp as a welcome to all prisoners. Disgusting.
I cannot adequately explain the camp, but I can tell you I´ve never experienced anything like it. I´ve been to the Holocaust museums in Washington D.C., Munich, and Buenos Aires --both of which are overwhelming. But this, this was more of an experience than a musuem visit. Chills shot down my spine and all the hairs on my arms stood at attention. Despite walking through here and seeing the pictures and reading the testimonials, you dont want to believe it. The inhumanity seems impossible. The whole experience is overwhelming and I would encourage everyone to visit in their lifetime.
The camp opened in 1933 (the first concentration camp) near the town of Dachau outside of Munich. Originally created for political rivals, the success of the camp led the Nazi party to duplicate the Dachau model all over Europe. In total, over 200,000 people from over 30 countries were believed to have been imprisoned here. Unofficial calculations suggest that nearly 50,000 of the prisoners were murdered...many others died of malnutrition, exhaustion, and disease. Walking through the crematory was too much for me. While the rest of the tour snapped photos and gazed at the ¨shower heads¨ I hurried through and sat outside.
It was said that when the Americans liberated the camp, many of the prisoners beat the guards to death. The US soldiers were so in shock of the conditions, they didnt stop the prisoners from extracting there vengence. Had I been there, I too would have looked the other way.
I cannot adequately explain the camp, but I can tell you I´ve never experienced anything like it. I´ve been to the Holocaust museums in Washington D.C., Munich, and Buenos Aires --both of which are overwhelming. But this, this was more of an experience than a musuem visit. Chills shot down my spine and all the hairs on my arms stood at attention. Despite walking through here and seeing the pictures and reading the testimonials, you dont want to believe it. The inhumanity seems impossible. The whole experience is overwhelming and I would encourage everyone to visit in their lifetime.
The camp opened in 1933 (the first concentration camp) near the town of Dachau outside of Munich. Originally created for political rivals, the success of the camp led the Nazi party to duplicate the Dachau model all over Europe. In total, over 200,000 people from over 30 countries were believed to have been imprisoned here. Unofficial calculations suggest that nearly 50,000 of the prisoners were murdered...many others died of malnutrition, exhaustion, and disease. Walking through the crematory was too much for me. While the rest of the tour snapped photos and gazed at the ¨shower heads¨ I hurried through and sat outside.
It was said that when the Americans liberated the camp, many of the prisoners beat the guards to death. The US soldiers were so in shock of the conditions, they didnt stop the prisoners from extracting there vengence. Had I been there, I too would have looked the other way.
Boozing it up at the Hofbräuhaus
If you´re a beer aficionado, than the Hofbräuhaus is your mecca. Built in 1607 by some famous Duke, it is the most famous beerhall in the world. The history runs deep here. Hitler held the first Nazi party meeting here and consequently, Americans did our part to destroy it during World War II. The Germans thankfully rebuilt it in 1958.
The Hofbräuhaus is awesome. Like my father years before me, I sat at one of the countless wooden tables and ordered a liter of beer. Yes, you read that correctly, a liter of beer. Two of these beers and even the most able drinker would be out for the count. During my four-hour dinner at the beer hall, they played typicl Bavarian music and all the waitresses wore that cute little getup you see in the beer ads for octoberfest. Many of the men were even sporting lederhosen. Apparently they are still quite popular and men wear them frequently when heading out to the pubs. The waitress told me the lederhosen is the equivilant of the kilt in Scotland. She went on to suggest that lederhosen were a sign of virtility and brawn....hmmmm. Nothing says manhood like short leather pants.
All in all, the Hofbräuhaus is the quintennsential spot for hanging out with your pals and enjoying a nice cold beer--even if they are wearing leather pants.
The Hofbräuhaus is awesome. Like my father years before me, I sat at one of the countless wooden tables and ordered a liter of beer. Yes, you read that correctly, a liter of beer. Two of these beers and even the most able drinker would be out for the count. During my four-hour dinner at the beer hall, they played typicl Bavarian music and all the waitresses wore that cute little getup you see in the beer ads for octoberfest. Many of the men were even sporting lederhosen. Apparently they are still quite popular and men wear them frequently when heading out to the pubs. The waitress told me the lederhosen is the equivilant of the kilt in Scotland. She went on to suggest that lederhosen were a sign of virtility and brawn....hmmmm. Nothing says manhood like short leather pants.
All in all, the Hofbräuhaus is the quintennsential spot for hanging out with your pals and enjoying a nice cold beer--even if they are wearing leather pants.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
O´Holy Night
Something about the Vatican just makes you want to sing Christmas carols...or at least it made me want to sing. And since I was visiting on a Sunday, we were greeted by the soothing sounds of a gospel choir and the accompanying organ. Beautiful. Over the past couple years, I´ve done my fair share of traveling and probably wandered through at least 40 to 45 churches and countless more ancient buildings. From the Library of Congress in D.C. to the Saint Cristobal church in Cusco to the Prague Castle, I´ve seen some of the most beautiful architecture first-hand. But none of it can hold a candle to the Vatican. I was warned that once inside it would take your breathe away and that was an understatement. Paralyzed was more like it.
I was so overwhelmed that I didnt even take a single picture. Amanda snapped a few but for the most part we simply walked around in awe. I´m not even Catholic but kneeling to pray at Pope John Paul II´s tomb made the hairs on my arm standup. To think of the history within these walls was overwhelming.
Before leaving I said a quick prayer for my family and bought a few souvenior crosses for my nephews and dipped them in holy water. As I walked out of the Vatican, I stopped for a moment to glance back at one of the holiest sites in the Christian religon and smiled as the tune of jingle bells popped in my head.
Come enjoy a leisurely bike ride through the rolling hills of Tuscany
Sounds romantic right? The owner of our Florence villa handed us several brochures and the one Amanda picked out was the "leisurely" bike ride. Rigghhht. Maybe if my first name was Lance the ride would have been a bit more enjoyable, but alas I´m no Armstrong. And the hills of Tuscany might as well been the Alps. Still, we perservered and I lived to tell the story.
As the seven of us saddled up, one thing was clear: athletes, we are not. We´re law students and law students aren´t known for their athletic ability and we were no exception. About 40% of the first hour was spent going downhill but the
last 20 minutes were all up hill. I rode in the very back (i.e. about 700 meters behind the first cyclist) to give Amanda some words of encouragment. Every mile or so we would all stop and catch our breathe. The faces of my friends were drenched in sweat, and the smile on Amanda´s face had been replaced by a grimace. These were not happy campers.The tour took us to the Prince Corsati Vineyards, an absolutely beautiful wineary smack in the middle of the Tuscany hillside. Fortunately, it was at the beginning of our little bikeride or else the girls would have mutinied and refused to bike anymore. As soon as the tour began though, I noticed it wasn´t just the girls who had worked up a sweat. JP Van Maele pedaled a bit too fast on that last ¨rolling hill¨and his body wanted to let him know it wasn´t appreciated it. So while the rest of us were learning the history of the Corsini family, JP was hunched over vomiting as if his life depended on it. Hilarious.
After a good two hours at the vineyard (I bought 3 bottles and some wine glasses), we rode off to our next destination. I´ll never forget the look of determination on Amanda´s face as we peddled through Tuscany for the next two hours. All in all, we biked 12 miles...a feat for anyone whose spent the last two years with their nose in a book. Despite the sweat and near fatal heat, I wouldn´t have changed a thing about that day. As we sat at the cafe near the end of the ride, I remember laughing and thinking what an amazing experience to be here with so many of my friends. It might not have been leisurely, but it was perfect nonetheless.
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