Berlin

Maria and I just finished a FREE bicycle tour of Berlin. Our tour guide, Dave from Kansas, was uber friendly and knowledgeable and should definitely take up the professorial career he dreams of pursuing. We met a lot of good folks on the tour, including Ben from Warwick, R.I., who was high school teammates with a friend of mine from William & Mary´s cross country team. He also knows a friend of ours from BC who is dating Maria´s close friend, Holly. Very small world. We are going to go out drinking with them tonight on what´s considered the second leg of our Berlin tour. We´ll upload pictures soon, but we hit all the classic sites in Berlin, including the Reichstag, Checkpoint Charlie, the Holocaust Memorial, and even detoured into a beer garden for a refreshing beverage. That .5 liter beverage would come back to haunt me somewhere during hour three of the tour, as Dave feverishly described the atmosphere in Berlin as the wall was coming down. I was worried that my pants would have to come down in a similarly frenzied matter as a steady stream of democracy was about to pour forth from my Checkpoint Carlie.

Also, we visited Monaco a few days ago, and I learned a great deal about what wealth actually means. At school, wealth is three packs of ramen and a fake ID. At home, wealth is the privilege of shoveling snow off a cement path leading from your mailbox to your front door. In America, wealth is as tacky and temporary as Kevin Federline. In Monaco, wealth is a private helicoptor docked on your private yacht parked in a private slip in an exclusive marina. There, wealth is a private beach with man-made shade. (I couldn´t quite put my finger on what was amiss after Maria and I stepped from the sun-soaked boardwalk onto the cool pebble beach. Aha! It was a living recreation of Mr. Burn´s plan to block out the sun in Springfield.) In Monaco, wealth is associated with regality. In the U.S., wealth is a free pass to drink and drive without consequence. I am not saying that Monaco´s wealth isn´t ostentatious, it is--very much so, but unlike in the U.S., the people with money conduct themselves with a certain degree of class. Money in America, for the most part, is a race to the bottom of the norms of social etiquette.

Photos

Use this link, www.flickr.com/photos/mkkb, to view our pictures from the trip, or click the flickr badge to the right of this post.

We apologize for their being unnamed and in a slew of different directions.

Nice...and the Photos to Prove It

Maria and I are in Nice, and I am feelin very uncomfortable in a comfortable office chair, mostly because we spent the good part of the day yesterday roasting like pheasants on God's rotisserie, southern France. The beach is absolutely splendid here, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, although I was entranced well enough by the topless women that I probably would not have noticed a space ship crash land into the lifeguard stand. I don't think the lifeguards would have noticed either.

But anyway, Nice is basically paradise. It's hot during the day, hot enough to scald my pale white body into a tomato hue, and cools off considerably at night. We dined last night with some friends we met, Joey and Glenda, from Wales, and we were both grumbling about how it is impossible to eat outside in the summer time in our native cities. In Wales, the weather has been so awful lately (flooding in Yorkshire, general misery elsewhere) that Glenda and Joey are confined to dining inside. In Washington, the humidity is so nasty during the summer months that hot dishes are almost unpalatable from June-September. In Nice, however, we both ate outside comfortably, enjoying the breeze and the fresh air. I had a seafood salad followed by a rabbit stew over ravioli and Maria had a delicious salad and then some fresh fish with vegetables. Also, wine was consumed liberally.

Today, after we leave the internet cafe, we will probably take the short train to Monaco and visit the famed Monte-Carlo casino where I will try to win back the small fortune I spent on booze in Brussels. We may also visit the graves of Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly. Monaco is the second smallest independent nation in the world (Vatican City being the first) so I don't think we will have too much trouble seeing the sights in one afternoon. Tomorrow morning, back to the beach for some swimming and then off to Berlin for a 5-day blitzkreig of the city. That was very tasteless and I'm sorry. I am having a great time so far and this blog is a great exercise for me, because I am usually so bad about jotting down my thougts.

Three Cheers for Airline Companies

I knew it was a bad omen when I bought an edition of The Economist before my trip to Brussels and there was a 14-page section decrying the state of the airline industry in the U.S. and abroad. I scoffed at the magazine's negativity. "Airline travel is the miracle of the 20th century," I said aloud, startling the TSA representative molesting me ever-so-gently in Heathrow's Terminal 4. But, as always my optimism has failed me again (i.e. the Mets 1986-2007). At Charles de Gaulle in Paris on Wednesday evening, we waited for 2 and 1/2 hours for a 1 hour flight to Nice. Our captain apologized, eloquently, I might add, in 3 languages, for the disruption, and said there was a 1/2 hour delay at each airport the plane touched down at that day. Add that up, and voila!, 2 and 1/2 hours tacked on to our short flight to Nice.

Maria and I arrived in Nice about 1:30 AM and after eating shit with a smile (paying 30 euros for a cab ride) found ourselves still a little hungry. We found a kebab joint still open and chowed down. Two drunk Australian dudes approached us and one, picking up on my hint of an American accent, exclaimed "Happy 4th of July, mate! It's your day!" And that completed the least American 4th of July ever celebrated. Me, in enemy territory (France) eating some Turkish kebab and getting clapped on the back by an Australian guy.

simultaneous blogging

Conor and I are sitting across from each other at the two hostel computers, slightly damp from the on-and-off rain that is Paris in July apparently, and hoping that the blog lets us post both of these blogposts at the same time. If it only takes one, I hope it is mine, because of course, it will be better.

Mary Anne: to answer your question, Courtney is my former supervisor and a good friend of mine. She does, in fact, not hate me and actually loves me (to the point of obsession, but don't tell her I said that).

I suspect that Conor is writing long and humorous anecdotes from and descriptions of the favorite places he has been in Paris. He is probably writing about the Pompadou and the Sacre-Coeur. I will write a quick list of the places we have been and if I have time (I have 8 minutes) a brief description of our visit there. At least then, you will know what we have covered. Hopefully I will have time in Nice and Berlin to elaborate more.

Day 1 - July 1st: Hilary Thomas Gaboriau (family friend from 52nd Street neighborhood in Kansas City Missouri) met Conor & I at Charles de Gaulle with little trouble. She took us to our hostel in the Latin Quarter. Conor and I went to the Louvre (free the first Sunday of the month) and took in the enormity that is arguably the world's most famous museum. We then met up with Hilary, her husband Francois-Regis and her friend Jess (a sweet Californian Hilary knew from an abroad program). We ate at a typical French restaurant at the Gambetta metro stop. It was delicious, and Conor scarfed the foie gras, it now being his favorite food group. I gulped the vin rouge, now being my favorite food group.

Day 2 - July 2nd: We started at Places des Vosges, looking for new shoes because as my Mom suspected (Yes, you were right) my flats did not offer support. However, I still stick by my word that I did not and do not want to look like an American in tennis shoes and jeans (Please note in the pictures that Conor is wearing glaringly white Nikes, therefore giving him AND me away, so I might as well have worn bright white Brooks). We then headed up the Rue De Rivoli to the Ile St- Louis (Courtney's favorite part of Paris) and then to the Ile de La Cite where Notre Dame is. It was gorgeous and huge, although I wish our guide book had given me more specifics about history and the architecture. Then we hit up the Place du Palais Royal (my favorite in Paris so far- when we put up pictures you will see why) and then to Jardin des Tuileries (Conor's fav).

time is out, unfortunately. more on day 3 and 4 later. molti baci. mk

I'm at the Pompidou. That's in Paris.

To quote the timeless lyrics of my favorite tongue-in-cheek band, Art Brut, "Modern art...makes me...want to rock out!" Maria and I visited the Pomidou center today, one of the necessary pilgrimages for modern, and post-podern, art enthusiasts. The Pompidou hosts a chronological exhibit of modernism, beginning with the impressionists and moving all the way forward to Jackson Pollock, "action art" and all the rest. The collection is astounding, and Maria remarked that the Picasso's and Matisse's were extensive, as are their exhibits in a number of museums around the world. They were certainly prolific, and every one of their pieces is a masterpiece. There is not a wasted stroke.

Last night, Maria and I visited the Sacre Coure (spelling?...no time for spell check), a basilica dating from the 1870's that overlooks Paris. We got up there just before sunset, and the panoramic views of the city were brilliant. As darkness fell, it become easier to pick out the monuments of Paris. We could see the blue piping of the Pompidou, the gloomy buttresses of the Notre Dame, and the unmistakable Eiffel Tower. It was really beautiful, and there was a festive atmosphere on top of that basilica. Most people there were very young, or in the verbage of the parents reading this blog, "whippersnappers" and snuck sips from their malted beverages as they watched darkness crawl over the city. Maria and I abstained from drinking, partly because an altered state was not necessary to appreciate the view, and partly because we had an early morning at the Musee d'Orsay followed by the aforementioned visit to the Pompidou.

Oh, I almost forgot. Yesterday, after a few false starts because of the rain and long lines, Maria and I made a consensus agreement to visit the inside of Les Invalides, as I mentioned yesterday, has a Napolean's tomb and a war museum. After looking at the exhibits, the only thought I had was that mankind has been very, very good at killing for a very long time. The advancement of our species has been almost dependent on advances in war, and it was interesting to compare, philosophically, the beautiful works of art we've seen thus far at the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay and the Pompidou with the equally beautiful weapons we saw at Les Invalides. Which has advanced mankind further? The Renaissance or the rifle?

After deep thoughts like these, I'll probably drink too much when we get to Nice tonight. Our flight gets in at 10:30, so if we hurry, I'll pass out by 12:30. Just kidding. The trip has been great so far, and I'm going to sun burn myself into unrecognizibility very soon.

Paris

I have 4 minutes and 9 seconds to post about Paris before my internet connection at the Young and Happy hostel runs out. We are staying in the Latin Quarter, which is short-hand for hipster central (a term Maria is proud that I've included) and we've been walking all over the city to take it in. Paris is the most beautiful city I've ever been to, besides, of course, Trenton. The Eifell tower, I've always thought of as a cliche, but it is absolutely breathtaking. Les Invalides, a hospital for veterans of France's many, many (surrendered) wars, is now a tragic monument to Napolean and the history of armed warfare.

Too much to write about, hopefully we will upload some pictures to tell the story. Headed (fingers crossed) to the Sacre Couer tonight and then Nice tomorrow evening. Love!