A partial self portrait.

Well, its been a little while, and I have been busy.  From here on out I am going to transcribe what I have written in my journal.

The other day Seabass and I went back to Tubingen.  The ESB Sprachkurs was there taking a tour. Seabass and I did our own tour, through the old castle, the Markplatz, and back to the river.  The river is beautiful and full of 'Stokerkann' (or something like that- they are small punting boats).  There is also a thin island with a path framed by towering sycamore trees.  I sat down on the embankment wall and drew some of the buildings.  

It started to rain so Seabass and I took the train back to Reutlingen instead of joining the students on the boats.  By the time we got back to Reutlingen it was absolutely pouring.  We ducked into the Irish Bar and grabbed a pint while the rain let up.  Later that night we returned to the Irish Bar for Karaoke Night after partying in Lit-haus (one of the student dorms).  I sang (or tried to sing) Jailhouse Rock.  I also gave a hand with 'Ace of Base' and some others that I don't remember.  Funny how that happens...

I had brought my little sketchbook so I did a few quick drawings of people.  A girl from Canada (Marita?) asked me to draw her but I'm sure that I didn't do a very good job since I could barely sign my name on it.  She said the drawing looked like a 60 yr. old woman.  I told her to keep it until then and see how the likeness is.  I wonder if she will.  The drawing was done in one of the little books that I took from Aunt Nancy's house when Jacquie, Grandma, Grandpa and I cleaned it out.  I wonder how old the paper is, and how old the drawing will be if Marita keeps it until it looks like her.

I've been to a few parties at Lit-haus at this point.  They are an odd mix of American college drinking games, European (mostly French) chanting, and general international conversation.  Its always fun to head out from Lit-haus with the whole pack.  Picture a group of guys from all over the world wandering drunkenly down the streets of a quiet southern German town.  Add Faxe 1-liter cans of beer to the equation and you've got one hell of a good time...

A few days ago Seabass and I snuck on to the Sprachkurs bus headed for Heidelburg.  We left the students to their tour and took our own tour of the huge wrecked castle.  It had been effectively blown to tower-sized bits in some old war and now it sits like a burnt out shell above the old town of Heidelburg.  The rain was picking up so Seabass and I ducked into a quarter-spherical alcove and ate our standard mozz/tomato sandwhiches washed down with cold water.  Nothing like budget meals.

We walked down into town once the rain started to let up, past a trio of 'knights' talking to some tourists, and down into the old town.  We listened to a huge old man reading poetry in German.  He sat under a pop-up yard tent, sitting on a folding chair that almost disappeared under his massive body.  His voice reminded me of heavy whipping cream.  He had grand grey mutton chops and a brilliant red scarf.  Both of his chins were clean-shaven.

Seabass and I got some 1 euro coffee and savored it as we wandered through the Markplatz where a jazzy band was playing for the daily market.  We saw the old bridge that Heidelburg had saved by petitioning the Allies not to bomb it during the war (according to Seabass).

The rain was on/off drizzle so we wandered down the main road until we transitioned into the newer part of town.  This was a big plaza with trams, buses, banks, steel, etc.  We met up with Martina (ex-rugby player from Northeastern) and the Mexican contingent.  It still cracks me up to hang out with a bunch of Mexicans in southern Germany.  We got some lunch and Martina showed us around the parts of town she remembers from her childhood (she lived nearby when she was younger).  

Finally we hopped on our free bus and took off for home.

After a nap, dinner and a shower it was time as usual for more drinking.  I am in Germany, after all.  We bought some more cheap export beers (plastic bottles) and headed over to Lit-haus.  We finished our brews and secured a rowdy crew to walk in to town with.  We reached the Farberei and coughed up the abominable- and unexpected- 10 euro cover charge.  I must say though, it was very nearly worth it.  I've never been to a dance club before and certainly not a European one.  This place was nuts.  At least 3 huge bars, private rooms, and 2 dance rooms complete with DJ's, stages, smoke machines, lights, strobes, and nonstop pounding beats.  I danced blisters into my feet and still didn't stop until 5 AM.  By then almost everyone had left.  Martina, Seabass and I headed across town to the only bar still open: Billy Bob's.  We split a pitcher of Hefeweizen and some fries.  On the walk home I had to carry my shoes and socks because my blisters were so bad.  An old lady who was out walking her dog saw us coming, picked up her little dog, and scurried behind her fence to slam the gate on us.  I can't say that I blame her.  3 kids approaching you before dawn, one carrying his shoes, another with a wine-stained tie hanging loosely from his collar, and the third a girl who could probably kick my or Sebastian's ass if she had a mind to.

Anyway we got home just after dawn broke, ate the rest of our 'aubergine-schnitzel-creation' out of the pan, drew the blinds and passed the fuck out.  I woke up around noon and worked on the drawing of my hand that I had started the other day.  I hung it on the wall just as Seabass awoke from his beauty sleep.  Martina came over and we made pancakes- or flatcakes, since we were out of baking powder.  We ate them with good ole New England maple syrup from Seabass's priceless store (a gallon jug carried over from the states).  To combat our activities from the previous night we sat around all day, watched the Big Lebowski, ate pizza, read, and went to bed early.  

The next morning Seabass and I boarded a train to Hamburg.  Without seat reservations we found ourselves sitting next to the door, munching on sandwiches and chocolate and sharing a bottle of wine.  We played Spades to pass the time.  La vita e bella.

Seabass and I were able to find a host through couchsurfing.com.  Two hosts, actually.  Claudia is 18, still finishing high school.  Her boyfriend Vincent is 20 or so and just finished the European equivalent of high school.  They both still live with their respective parents and they hosted us for one night each.  We met them in the evening, shared some pizza and beers and called it a night after a little stroll where they showed us Hamburg's 'occupied house.'  This was an abandoned opera that was now inhabited by politically radical leftist youths- anti-capitalist, anti-police.  Apparently the police raid the building once every few months, make some arrests, and leave.  Claudia said that this is because there are a few guys who are always provoking the police.  It sounds like there is a lot of anger, manifesting itself in these juvenile attacks on the police.  On the other hand I think it is great that these people have remained and continue to fight the police and the status quo.  It is a necessary reminder that there are alternatives to our current system.

We spent the first night at Claudia's, which was far outside of town.  Her apartment was very quaint but it was full of bookshelves, photos, stones, artwork, knick-knacks, plant and colors.  It was very comfortable and unassuming.  I immediately felt at home.  There was a note on the couch welcoming us into their home.

When we woke up Claudia prepared us a magnificent breakfast and we parted ways.  She went to school (at noon!) and we took our bags into Hamburg to meet up with Vincent.  He took us to his parents' house which was a gorgeous flat right in the center of town.  Huge rooms, white walls, tall ceilings, big paintings.  Probably the opposite of Claudia's place, but still very nice.  Vincent had lived in Lexington, MA with his family when he was younger so they all spoke very good english.  They were very friendly and hospitable.  We left our bags there and began our tour of Hamburg.

I bought an old army jacket at a 2nd hand shop- with the happy hour special it was under 30 euros.  We took a ferry through the canal and saw the freight industry at work.  I thought of Greg's senior show work and realized why he was so fascinated with this stuff.  The scale is simply enormous.  We climbed up an office building designed like a ship and got quite a view, even though it was very overcast.  We ate Doner and fries for lunch and grabbed some more 1euro coffee to go.  We strolled through the up-and-coming waterfront business district.  Construction and weird German architecture everywhere.  We walked through a bombed out old church which was full of modern sculpture.  It was left as it was after being bombed as a monument against war.  We stopped and I made a quick sketch of the tower- which had miraculously survived the bombs.  You could see where the main building once joined the tower.  Now there is only an empty courtyard.  It was a very moving site.

We also visited the Rathaus (city hall) with its incredible copper roofs.  There is so much copper on the roofs of Hamburg's old buildings.  

Eventually Vincent met up with us.  We went back to the canal to see it at night, and then we walked through the red-light district.  The Herbertstrasse was a walled-off street where only men are allowed- on one side of the windows, that is.  The street is lined with glass walls on both sides, spilling pink light onto the road.  Beautiful semi-nude women sit behind the windows and tap on the glass as you walk by, hoping to turn a trick.  Occasionally they open a window and call you closer.  Not a lot of business on a Tuesday night, I suppose.  It was a very bizarre scene.  The women were almost regal, despite their nudity.  It seemed that they had some sort of weird psychological power over the men in the street.  I guess they would need it, to maintain their dignity in this type of work.  Of course, certain taboos that we have about prostitution back in the states don't really seem to apply here.

As soon as we left the Herbertstrasse we were back in the heart of the red-light district.  Girls in winter jackets (it was cold for September), jeans, and money belts swarmed us, trying their luck.  "Ohh, English- where frommmm?"  They were quite the contrast to the stately women of the Herbertstrasse.

We walked for a bit longer, trying to find a place to eat.  A ringer outside of a strip joint tried to lure us in.  Vincent told him that we were looking for fish (we thought it an appropriate meal, being so close to the water).  I didn't need to speak German to understand the joke that the man countered with, gesturing inside.  We laughed, declined his offer, and continued our search for food.  We ended up buying a bottle of wine and returning to Vincent's family's home for his mother's leftover spaghetti bolognese.  It was delicious, followed by a carrot-nut cake and finally two very comfortable beds.  

We woke up to another excellent breakfast, thanked our hosts profusely, and caught the train for Berlin.