Berlin - Day 2

We woke up at leisure at 10 or so (and God bless all these hotels/hostels to serve breakfast till 11:30.)

I don’t know why but we were in an especially leisurely mood, so we ate slowwwly and then sat with the map and slowwly figured out what-where-why. Berlin has shit load of museums and such. Lots of options are always a bad thing. And then, as usual, we made a plan and started off. I don’t remember the plan exactly, because as usual, we did not really stick to it.

Along with behaving leisurely, we were also a little out of our minds…as we left the hostel without fully gearing up for the chilly weather. In other words, no jackets/gloves or cap. I am not used to winters so I cant handle wearing layers of clothing.

So, we figured out all subway trains – this that and reached Potsdammer Platz. An area that relatively newly built but was central to most of the places we had planned to visit.

On reaching there, it struck both of us how brave we were trying to be and ended up really foolish. The cold was skull-numbing and we looked at each other like ‘brrr…lets go back and get our jackets or at least gloves and caps.’

And yes, we went back to get all those.


(I think cold also makes your mind contract and as a result maybe the blood flows really slow and you think very slow or something - Have to look this up. It could be true. Sounds like a theory.)

Anyway, so, not only did we quite shamelessly wasted our time in getting appropriately dressed for the winter…upon reaching Potsdammer Platz again, when we were purposefully walking towards the Brandenburger Tor , we got quite distracted by this whole fair sort of thing with all sort of yummy fried aromas wafting in the air. So like lil sniffy dogs, we hopped from one stall to another began to eat. It was pretty strange because both of us had a ‘complimentary-and- therefore- filling’ breakfast.

We first had fried champignons (button mushrooms) with spinach (highly disgusting), then, some sort of nice sweet-sugary-fried-but-light- balls you get those a lot here, and then chocolate crepe (which was the winner) –

(Notice how demented I look…I guess it was the sugar surge!)



(Also, because it was very windy day combined with bad-hair day! )

Anyway, we managed to wrench ourselves out of the wretched fair and walked towards Brandenburger Tor.

Walking up all those streets, you feel, there is something really eerie about the place. Maybe it was the weather, but I was thinking, maybe it IS true – something is really dreary and grey about the city. The air hangs heavy in that city. Quite inexplicable it is – how you feel.

Before Brandenburger Tor, we found the Museum of Holocaust – also called the Museum of the Murdered Jews. Was built recently – 2005. Looks like a cemetery, but isn’t. Just being there gives u the heebie-jeebies. I learnt later that it is deliberate – to give the visitors a sense of insecurity. Sets the mood for the museum.

Ironically, for us even the clouds matched the grey stelaes (steel-ays). Perfect mood setting.

And as we stood waiting at the entrance of this museum – it started snowing – The first snow in Europe!


Dint get a chance to really, enjoy it. Was too cold and we rushed inside and entered a different world. Snow, was long forgotten.

Took an audio tour this time – was worth it.

It is dedicated to all Jews murdered in Europe during the holocaust. It’s divided into 5 big rooms (or were there 7?) and begins with pictures from the holocaust period from 1931-1945.

It’s unbearable to look at some of the pictures and reading the descriptions. The next room has letters preserved from people in the concentration camps to their loved ones.

The lighting is so apt. Gives you goosebumps. I was trying hard not to cry as I read all excerpts and tried telling myself ‘It’s over, we should be thankful it’s over.’

Then I came across a letter from a 12 year old girl to her father just before she and her mother were being taken to the pit to be executed.

They used to shoot the people at the edge of the pits so their bodies fell right into the pits. Lesser work.

“They are taking us to kill us…
….I love you daddy.. "

The letter was dated 31, July, 1942.

It was quite blurry after that for sometime. So, I sat for sometime and trying to wipe off all signs of crying.

There were many such rooms and pictures, and stories of families which had all their generations wiped off.

By the time I reached the last room, my head was spinning. I couldn’t bear to be in the last audio room which shows the names of people who were murdered and then their biography is read out. It is a part of the Jewish culture … about how when they die..something. I don’t even remember it now. I was so dizzy with all the brutality and such organized mass murders over years. Mind-numbing in the real sense.

(PS:Day 2 shall continue… feeling a lil dizzy just thinking about it.)

Berlin - Day 1

Germany. For me, the country was always was synonymous with rough, crude, grim and grey place with boors for people and a rough language. And I grew up and read more about it and saw happy looking things like Oktober Fest, and it was all fine.

And then, when five years ago, when accidentally, flipping channels, I saw a documentary on a cable TV channel, it became synonymous with another misery - The Holocaust. And this memory stayed above all other Oktober Fests and anything nice. World War II, Auschwitchz – the Nazis, visuals of gaunt, emaciated, naked people being rescued from the Auschwitz concentration camp – and it numbed my brain.

But when we booked tickets for Berlin, I hoped it would change my mind and instead replace all the grimness with better images of regular tourist place with all festivities in place etc.

After half a day of work in office and packing etc and a grueling 8 hours train journey, when we reached, we were tired, cold, and hungry. After roaming three cities of Europe in different countries, you would think one gets pretty smart to find out stuff. But when you are tired and sleepy and hungry and cold at the same time, it is a pain in the ass to find out how to buy a ticket for the local subway to get to your hotel. And it doesn’t help when you have such conversations:

‘Can you speak English?' - I asked an middle aged woman

'NO' - replied a girl who looked like her daughter and put a protective arm around her mother's shoulder.

I was desparate, so I said -

I just want to know where can I get the tickets?’

‘I haf my tickets’ said the woman

I rolled my eyes like 'forget it!' and started to search for the platform number in a complicated looking time-table.

Two police officials also do not help and instead just point to a random elevator and look away.

And the biggest station of Berlin was deserted and it looked as if we are the only two stupid people who decided to travel to Berlin that weekend.

And after all this time trying to find information desks and helpful looking people and ‘english-speaking looking people, guess who helped us? – A sweeper. If you look closely in the pic, he is right there – at the end of the alley. God bless him!

So, we finally took a subway to our hostel and reached a little before 1:00 am. Yes, it was a hostel this time -a little more backpackish and little less 4 starish this time. Frankly, I would not be surprised if it were a crummy place with a musty bathroom that had a leaking faucet and cracks in the walls – or graffiti at least. In short – low expectations.

But it turned out to be good – Neat and tidy. Basic, but nice. Clean sheets and a warm bathroom with everything perfectly in order. Clean bathroom and clean sheets is al i ask for -

Look at the sheets, so white and clean and inviting.

Aaah… I almost wanted to throw my bags and get some sleep, but the stomach was sending stronger signals to the brain.

The hostel is in almost centrally located there was a Burger King right below the hostel and other smallish eating joints. The subway station was also right under the hostel, so, it was pretty busy. At 1:00 am, it looked as if it was just evening.

CK had the good fortune to find her falafel and I had my bad fortune to first get the worst pasta with beef and then when I trashed it, I tasted the worst burger ever – it also had beef and bacon– which I usually very fervently relish but I guess german pigs/cows taste pretty….........puky (for want of a more disgusting word). Somehow I swallowed the bread and salad without the beef cutlet and straight hit the bed.

And that’s how we were welcomed in Berlin. Bad entry, I would say.

Barcelona - Day 3

Feeling comparatively better and less doped, I decided to skip the medicine and instead cure the sore throat at the nice sunny beach.

So, we checked out from the hotel and landed at the beach. Sadly, we were both very inappropriately dressed for a beach and I had to roll up my jeans and carry my sneakers in my hands to have the pleasure of walking bare feet on the sand.

And so I did and walked the whole length listening to ‘The Scientist’ in a loop and thought:

once again at the beach…in another place and time but still as alone as I then was…

The Schengen visa expires this weekend and the last destination is Berlin.

Barcelona - Day 2

After a restless night because of the sore throat, I woke up groggy- headed and like an utter fool gulped a big spoonful of cough syrup before breakfast. And by the time I sat at the breakfast table, the cough syrup had kicked in I felt exactly like I had had two joints, in succession. And like that I began my first real day of sigh-seeing in Barcelona.

(You shall learn later that how harmful a condition like this can be besides feeling drugged and uncomfortable)

We wanted this to be more organized than Brussels and Paris so we thought, ‘hmm…we’ll make our own sight-seeing plan and stick to it’.

If you look at the tourist map of Barcelona, you will see hajaar monuments all over the map with not-very-self-explanatory names like: Esglesia de Sant Pau del Camp, Pl. del Rei, Pl. Fossar de les Moreses, and so you think, ‘fuck the plan, lets go with the flow’. So we did exactly that.

Catalunya (kaata-loon-ya) is the central area, which is surrounded by maximum landmarks/tourist spots so we decided to first go there and then think what all we can see. Catalunya was on the way to Barceloneta, where we had been previous night, so we had no problem reaching there.

The dilemma began once we reached Catalunya. It was a square with a two statues and a fountain place. Where the heck were all firkin monuments mentioned in the map? So, we haw-hummed and clicked idle pics like these:

Then, we sat down with the map again and looked left and right and reached no conclusion. Then, suddenly a familiar name: Pl. Picasso. Oh yes, of course…Picasso’s Museum! And then close to it …ahem…Museum of Erotica (???!!!) This seemed suddenly more attractive than the Picasso now and I thought, ‘lets see how can sex be museum’ized! and while we will be there, we will also peek in to look at what is the great deal about Picasso!'

But have I ever stuck to a plan? No.

To reach Picasso Museum, we would have to take another train and go backwards to Jaume. So just to commemorate the fact that we had been to Placa Catalunya at Barcelona, we thought of clicking a few pics and almost accidentally reached the La Ramblas .

Now, if a Spanish or anyone familiar with Barcelona is reading this will definitely be so disgusted with our lack of intelligence, as La Ramblas is not really so hidden…I don’t know may be it was my dopey cough syrup or we were just spatially disturbed because of seeing so many cities in a short time that it never occurred to us that La Ramblas could be one of the places we should first ask about if we were at Catalunya already.

Anyhow, throughout walking along La Ramblas, there is never a dull moment. Both the sides of the place are people such as these

Tricks- like this guy was juggling the ball with his feet and showing some good footwork.


This lady here, dressed as a statue, but if you drop a coin, she’ll move or something.

Another of the statue types but he was really good. Dint move an inch…coin or no coin.

And there were a whole lot of more interesting things like a Tango performance. There are more videos than pictures.

But basically, we strolled through this wonderland sorta and reached another riot – the local food market. As we had hogged on a lot of ‘complimentary’ breakfast, we were in no mood to eat, but still the place looked inviting and we walked in.

And, boy, what a riot of colours:

Exotic fruits such as these – never seen the red ones before – on the left..have u?


Candy land – one

Candy land – 2

Didn’t eat any of this but such a feast for the eyes.

Before we knew, we were at the other end of La Ramblas, at the Mirador de Colom– which is basically a huge pillar besides which we rested. I was almost half asleep and CK was again on a picture clicking spree, I turned and looked wherever she asked me to.

We then reached the port of Barcelona and sat there too for sometime, looking at the fish and doing nothing.

And then it dawned that we actually had planned to visit the Museum of art and eroticas so we picked ourselves up and started to walk quickly back to Catalunya Metro station.

And this is when the after effects of dopey cough syrup really showed its ugly face. As we walked hurriedly towards the station, there was a bunch of people standing around a guy playing the gamble where you guess under which the ball is (showed in movies a lot… a very common way of conning people)…I didn’t mean to stand there but there was a lot of noise and people were jeering and cheering and just for a second I stood there and jokingly gestured like ‘there, the ball is under that one’.

Almost in a split of second, a man who was performing the trick thrusted a 50 Euros note in my hand and pulled me in the middle of the scene and asked me to put my foot on the box and said something in spanish. I did as he said and wanted to say ‘but I am not playing’..but before I could say anything in defense suddenly a tourist looking girl from the audience appeared from no where and shook my arm and said

‘you have won…now give some money…and I said ‘for what?’ she said, ‘he give you 50 euros, give money, give money, u have won’….

the whole crowd was looking at me and shouting
‘u have won, you can will get double, give him some money’

it was so overwhelming and I really was in a stupor and trying to figure out what’s going on. I wanted to wrench my hand free and run and CK was suddenly no where in sight. The girl kept tugging and asking for money and just to get rid of all the people, I shoved my hand in my purse and dug out whatever I laid my hands on (unforch – 20 bucks) and handed over.

The lady next to me shouted again

‘you have won, give more money, more money’

While the man was collecting more money from ppl around, the girl next to me pushed my foot and showed me that under the box was the ball, and said

‘See, I know, we have won, give more money, it will daabul’

and I told her

‘you give more money, I don’t want to’

and she also took out some from her purse. All this time I am bizzarely looking here and there and wondering ‘how the hell I got into this and and where is the 50 bucks this guy just gave me’

before I knew, the guy had pushed my foot to another box and was showing me that my foot was on the wrong box and I had in fact lost the bet (which I had never placed!)

Suddenly, I heard CK is calling me in panic and literally dragged me out of there.
I felt more humiliated than feeling sorry about the money lost. It had not sunk in. But later it did and it just made me feel worse. Fuckers!! But as an after thought, what a plan! well executed!

Later CK also told me, when I was getting pulled into all this mess, she was cornered by four men who asked her ‘ Pakistani? Bangladeshi? Indian?, we have a room around the corner, you want to go there?’

So, all bad things that happen to tourists, simultaneously, in one shot, just like that out of no where.

We just wanted to rush out of La Ramblas and boarded the train to Jaume to see a more civilized world.

Picasso Museum is a bit of a disappointment after Van Gogh… mainly because most of the information about each painting is in Spanish, French and Italian.

Although, there was information about various phases in Picasso’s life described in English, it was difficult to relate the information to the paintings. But it was nice to have seen in real life the masterpieces of the two most brilliant painters in the world.

But going to Jaume turned out to be nice as we got to see the real streets of Barcelona, the typical Spanish homes.

Don’t know if you can make out from this picture here but it was nice to walk here.

We were pretty exhausted and were in no mood to look up the Museum of Erotica in the map and a little hesitant to ask people around. I guess the incident at La Ramblas had shaken us up a little and we were not really willing to trust anyone around. So, we turned around and left to have dinner and some Sangria to calm our nerves.

Barcelona - Day 1

I could not believe when I landed there that this is the same place I had once dreamt of being at..when I first read about Madrid and the Masque in some novel I think.

It wasn’t quite like the Spain I had read about but had glimpses of it in bits and pieces.

I realize I cannot write here all about Barcelona without getting RSI so I decide to put the highlights.

• When we reached the airport and were waiting for the boarding to begin, I was a little doubtful if we were indeed taking the right flight. 90% of the crowd comprised really OLD people and I could not help but remember what CDG once told us about Barcelona. He said “Once when I was on a plane to Barcelona, I thought ‘am in on the right plane ‘coz from the number of old people on the train made it seem like it was going to heaven or someplace’.
  
• First time ever I got lucky to get something good in exchahnge of OK. We got upgraded from a three star hotel to a four star!! And what a lovely room it was…Don’t know why or how…but that’s what we were told when we reached the hotel we were supposed to stay. So, we made a lil obligatory fuss like ‘oh! But this is last minute…blah..blah and then with very little regret left. Also, this ex hotel was paying the taxi fare. Good start! Is what I thought.

• Alright, by fluke we were in a four star luxurious place, but still were still on a budget trip and had to go in search of a nice-but-cheap meal. Also, CK’s aim of the trip was to go to the beach. That was her idea whole idea of Barcelona – The BEACH. I just wanted food and some sleep, my throat was completely fucked up. It was since a week but I guess it didn’t quite agree with Barcelona. So, we found maps and such and with whatever little we could have read in the week at office etc, decided to FIND the beach and reach there.




• Luckily, we were putting up in a hotel close to the metro station. It was hardly 5 minutes walking distance. I asked the lady at the reception about the route and was ready to explore. I have grown up in towns where there are just rickshaws in the name of public transport. When I grew up and landed in Delhi, I was driven around in sarkari gaddis and was spoilt rotten. So, I get a bit nervous to find my way around through buses or trains in any city. But I must say, Barcelona is excellent with metro service and it took us hardly anytime to figure out the metro routes and the stations. Simple and clever. Even though, we had to change trains, we were perfectly on target every time. I love the fact that I can find my way around a new city in a new country where most population is non-English speaking. Waah waah! I pat myself.




• Although we reach Barceloneta (where the beach is) we have no clue where to find the beach as it looks like just another junction. Then we make a wild guess and start to walk in that direction. It turned out to be the right direction. But more than the beach, it was the food that seemed more attractive. On the barceloneta road, there are loads of Spanish eating joints …one after another …similar looking…even the menus look the same with same kind of pictures on each menu card.

The waiters/usher boys/men stand outside their restaurants and pester each tourist.
‘Bonjour ..Ola…italian? English? French?...senorita….then something in rapid French or Spanish….’ This whole charade was so overwhelming that we passed polite smiles and moved on. And inevitably met an Indian looking guy with the peculiar Indian accent
‘Madam, Italian? English?
I quickly say ‘English’.
'England tohn?'
'India..Hindustan '
Oh, achcha, madam…aapke liye drink free, naat expensive..its best Spanish food
‘do u have vegetarian food’ I ask for CK’s sake.
'yes yes’

And without further ado, we sit down...not so much because of the Indian guy but more so for the hunger that had by now crossed the bearable limits.

And here, my frnds, I discovered my favorite alcoholic drink ever on the face of this earth..**drum roll**La Sangria. When I ordered this, it was more for my throat’s sake, thinking this will be wine and a better option than beer. But it turned out a heavenly potion – a wine punch – basically wine and orange juice with slices of orange soaked in it. Poured on a chunk of ice. All my throat related apprehensions went out of the window...divine..heavenly..is all i was thinking...sipping eagerly on it

Read this expression on my face as ‘Ah ..bliss!’

(Oh crap…this was supposed to be in bulleted points and only highlights!!...I guess I will have to do it the RSI way..anyway..I shall continue….)

The bliss didn’t last long and the food took an eternity to come. But when it finally did, I regretted my order as it was just some sort of chicken steak sorta fraud thingy, while CK ordered Paella, which is in fact nothing more than a more watery version of our very own Pulaao. But it seemed so perfect in the cold weather to have that steamy plate of rice than a few nasty pieces of chicken.

(picture only for ignorant people, was too hungry to first click an actual pic..this is therefore from the world of google images)

We finally, decided to leave for the beach and it was very dark when we reached. However, its always lovely to watch the sea..night or day. So, we both sat and watched the sea for sometime. I so love walking barefeet on the sand and so we decided to come to the beach and dedicate some more time to idle-gazing at the sea.

This picture has no specific relevance, except that it is a proof that we were at the beach at night.

On the way back I bought some cough syrup as my voice now sounded like a battery operated robot voice gone bad.

To learn more about the day 2 activities at Barcelona - wait for Barcelona - Day 2 post

Till next time!

Brussels

And as if to outshine Paris, Brussels dazzled me with all its might.

Although the journey from Amstelveen to Brussels was broken and back breaking….changing numerous trains and running around to find out which platform etc.

We also met a Pestering Lecherous Paki on the train who happened to sit right opposite so I slouched in my seat to avoid his stare. He then came over as soon as CK left for the restroom and asked how come we spoke ‘urdu’? I said ‘hindi, we are from ‘hindustan’. I don’t know why I said almost arrogantly. I am hoping because he was slimy and not because somewhere deep inside I am a racist too.

He made several attempts to chat up passing off slimy smiles but I completely ignored and had to constantly look out of the window for 2.5 hours. I almost sprained my neck.

This was the first non-sissy attempt at travel where there were no agendas and nothing booked/reserved waiting for us. Therefore, I walked from the station holding the head up and my breath….and found the magnificent buildings and lovely architecture waiting for all with all its glory.

Saw the Saint Michael and Saint Goedle cathedral. Huge and very inviting somehow.

That's Saint Michael - in all its golden glory

The best part was the baroque pulpit…haven’t seen anything like that before. A whole monument in itself. Impressive. And so firkin ancient…1699 and preserved so well.

The Baroque

Then we walked to the Grand Place…the central market area…and I made me feel” wow…this is the Europe of my dreams…”


It is not much but a big huge cobbled ground surrounded by ornate like buildings. But I think it was very sexy and mystic. You could just sit there and stare at the intricate work on the buildings. It had a nice aura to it. But the aura couldn’t shoo away the cold

There’s a cigarette excellently hidden in my hand. Remembered how to hide a ciggarette from a conversation with SC. Thanks! :-P

We were just thinking of moving our butts to see the ‘peeing boy statue’ – the Manneken Piss when a loud drum roll was heard passing right through the Grand Place. A huge bunch of people wearing maroon robes sorta looking like priests or maybe ministers or something…walked with a mannekin piss statue and a guy in front playing a drum and someone else singing.

Suddenly it seemed all at Grand Place started to follow these maroon –robed fellas. We joined them too and although we had no firkin clue where and why, it somehow seemed like a right and happy thing to do. The enthusiasm was contagious.

This may not seem like a "big procession" from the picture but it was!

Finally, we reached the actual Manneken Piss statue and we realized it was one of the special days when he wears a costume (there are hundreds of costumes of that one statue in some King’s Museum…pampered lil pissing statue). That day he wore the same maroon robe which the people in procession were wearing. Then, after some speech in a foreign language and very uptight non-fun looking guy help up a plastic glass to the lil statue’s willy and it pissed beer.

Check out the guy holding the glass...he seems disgusted like it is real piss...it BEER you moron!

And everyone cheered and clapped and made jokes. I couldn’t find out what the occasion was…everyone seemed to be asking everyone around…I asked a lady at a shop…she said something in French and I said ‘is it a special day today?’ She vigorously shook her head and said exasperatedly ‘No no…no special day, beer, clothes, clothes, beer’. Which was not helpful at all and I felt if she has to tell me one more time she will die on me or something. She looked really old and frail. So, I left the shop and m curiosity behind.

Sadly, for lunch we could manage to find places with Greek cuisine than Belgian! Loads of Falafel and Shoarma places in row, rows and rows.

We then wanted to see the comic strip museum where the divine ‘Tintin’ was created. But instead, dilly-dallied like this:






Saw the two other famous things of Belgium:

Yep - Zee chocolates - not really cheap OR that great

The Lace - I dint know this before. Quite nice!

And it was time to leave. Had a glass of Belgian beer, which is quite famous and was highly recommended by RNSG. So, we had to try. Its nice, dark and sweet. CK was tipsy on one glass and I had a sore throat so we dropped idea of another one and instead tried Belgian waffle, which I think was better in Amsterdam’s Ben and Jerry.

We had not planned on staying so we left Brussels. But I think I would like to go back…someday.

Barcelona is where we go this weekend.

PS: This photo business is really taxing...!! I am lagging behind by a week! This week I shud have posted about Barcelona. Damn!

Note to self: Must write with more dedication!

come'awwn - come on

I am sitting in a meeting room to work which has sensor lights. They come on when you enter. But then, I think it is also programmed to shut every half an hour or so.

So, every few minutes when it shuts, I get up from my chair and it comes on.

Fun? Yeah…but not when you are in for a whole day. So, last time it went off I just put my arm up and showed it the finger like ‘oh come’awnn’ and it came on.

This is more fun! I hope no one is observing me showing a finger to no one in particular every 30 minutes!