I never thought it possible to be culture shocked returning your home country, but indeed, it is. I got to the Atlanta airport yesterday, and sitting in the food court waiting for my flight, I got to listen to people talking about American Idol, Nascar, and celebrity gossip. And see lots of fat people. And listen to mothers tell their kids to “git” back over here.

Yes, I’m back in America, and southern America at that.

The flight was uneventful, but still, reminded me of why I hate flying. In Stuttgart, I was subjected to two bag searches of my fragilely packed bags. And worst of all, I had to go through security twice, in the most assinine display of paranoia I’ve ever seen. I went through security, got my bag rifled through, wanded, felt up, etc, and then, thinking I was done, walked to my gate. Where there was another security line, where they did the same thing again.

Um, excuse me? I just did this 30 seconds ago. I’m behind security, so there’s no way anyone is here who hasn’t already been through. What, pray tell, is the reason for doing it again? I asked the officers running their hands over my crotch and pulling my bag apart again for the second time in less than a minute why this was, and they just said it was Delta Airlines’ policy. Right. So apparently, the identical security gate behind me wasn’t good enough, so they have to do it again.

You could write a book on why that is patently absurd, and why I now don’t think I’ll ever fly Delta airlines again. Another example of why the paranoia of the US has done nothing more but inconvenience a whole lot of people without actually increasing security at all.

By the way, it was my lucky day–I got searched again at Atlanta, and had to have the customs guy pull my bags apart too. At least he was nice about it.

I hate flying.

Well, this is it. In less than an hour, I leave Tübingen. Last night, I went out with some friends for the last time. It worked out very well, with me seeing my two teachers from my summer Sprachkurs once more before leaving. It felt like a proper sendoff, and I’m glad it worked out that way.

All of my things are packed, and I’ll soon be catching the bus to the airport. I’m not looking forward to my 10.5 hour flight to Atlanta or my three hour layover once I get to Atlanta, but I am ready to get it over with–and certainly ready to get home.

I suppose this also means the end of regular posts here. I have a few more posts that I’d like to get up, so there will probably be a few more at some point, but nothing on a regular basis. If you’d like notification when I post something, sign up on the email list with the box to the right.

I guess that’s it then–my study abroad experience is over.

Bis Dann,
Alex

I’ve just found the most incredible comparison (for lack of a better word) between the US and Europe. Bruce Bawer managed to put into words the feelings I’ve felt since getting here, that despite Europe’s benefits–respect for learning and culture being primary–there’s just something about it that doesn’t quite jibe with me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, couldn’t quite figure it out… But he nailed it.

It’s a pretty long article, but if you have any interest in Europe, be it for study abroad, having lived there, or wanting to live there, check it out. It’s worth every minute.

Here’s one paragraph that sums it up very well:

“Living in Europe, I gradually came to appreciate American virtues I’d always taken for granted, or even disdained—among them a lack of self-seriousness, a grasp of irony and self-deprecating humor, a friendly informality with strangers, an unashamed curiosity, an openness to new experience, an innate optimism, a willingness to think for oneself and speak one’s mind and question the accepted way of doing things. (One reason why Euro- peans view Americans as ignorant is that when we don’t know something, we’re more likely to admit it freely and ask questions.) While Americans, I saw, cherished liberty, Europeans tended to take it for granted or dismiss it as a naïve or cynical, and somehow vaguely embarrassing, American fiction. I found myself toting up words that begin with i: individuality, imagination, initiative, inventiveness, independence of mind. Americans, it seemed to me, were more likely to think for themselves and trust their own judgments, and less easily cowed by authorities or bossed around by “experts”; they believed in their own ability to make things better. No wonder so many smart, ambitious young Europeans look for inspiration to the United States, which has a dynamism their own countries lack, and which communicates the idea that life can be an adventure and that there’s important, exciting work to be done. Reagan-style “morning in America” clichés may make some of us wince, but they reflect something genuine and valuable in the American air. Europeans may or may not have more of a “sense of history” than Americans do (in fact, in a recent study comparing students’ historical knowledge, the results were pretty much a draw), but America has something else that matters—a belief in the future.”

Perhaps part of the reason this hits such a chord with me is that I see a lot of my own changes in it. When I left to come here, I was looking very much forward to it–it’s Europe, there is so much to see and do, the people are smart, cultural, and tolerant, it’s going to be incredible. And while in many respects it has, I now see a certain naievity in those thoughts. This guy has latched onto those thoughts that were stirring in my head and managed to make them into words–that while Europe has many things going for it, in the end, it’s not the promise land, and America, for all it’s multitudes of problems, has what are in the end the more important things going for it. I feel like I could quote the whole article just because every paragraph has me nodding my head at how accurately it sums up my feelings.

I’ve been saying it for a while, but travelling in Europe and living in Europe are two totally different things, and this does an amazing job of explaining why. For all of America’s faults, I can’t wait to get back.

Also of interest, Donald Sensing has an interesting post series going on about why Europe is going to have some serious problems in the future, stemming from its incredibly low birthrate and massive influx of immigrants. It’s actually where I learned about this article and got the paragraph quoted here.

Hating America, by Bruce Bawer.

Moving on to London… I got back from London late Monday night, catching the last S-Bahn train from the airport to a tiny town called Leinfelden, where I then caught a night bus back into Tübingen.

This will be a pretty short post–mainly because there isn’t much to say. I’ve already been to London once, last year, for spring break, and so I’d gotten out of the way most of the touristy things I’d been dying to see. I went to London mainly because I loved it there last time, and wanted to visit my friends from UNC who were studying there for the semester and just hang out and relax for a few days. Which is exactly what I did, and it was wonderful, but that doesn’t make for good reading. I also don’t have any pictures because, well, I didn’t really take any.

I think London may just be my favorite city that I’ve been to. Mind you, not as beautiful as, say, Prague, and there’s not as much in the way of historical significance as, say, Rome, but something about the place just makes it my favorite. There’s a feeling to the place, a combination of the lovely Victorian architecture, the people, and the speed with which it all seems to move, that just makes it a place where I could see myself living. While other places, like Prague or Rome or Paris, might have a bit more to offer the tourist, I wouldn’t want to live in either of them–but I could see myself living in London, without a problem. Of course, an American can’t afford to live in London unless he’s already filthy rich or is being paid in Pounds Sterling. The prices in London are exactly what you’d expect to pay in the US–3 for a beer, 6-7 for a light meal. Except they are in pounds. So double them. That’s now $6 for a beer, $12-14 for a light meal. Ouch.

Anyways, most of our time was spent idly wandering around the city. We did a good bit of cooking–in fact, I didn’t eat out once–and generally just took it easy. Thursday night, we went and saw a play, Who’s Afraid of Virgina Woolf. It was quite excellent, and very impressive–3 hours long, two intermissions, and only four characters. Very powerful, and quite humorous at the same time. I also went to the Imperial War Museum, another of London’s excellent musuems, where we got to see all sorts of tanks, rockets, guns, and a simulation of a WWI trench and London during the Blitz.

Of course, the queen of London museums, and the best museum I’ve ever set foot in, bar none, is the British Museum. I walked the 5 minutes from the flat by Russell Square to the museum, and was just as impressed at its massive neo-classical facade as I was the first time I saw it. This time, I managed to speed walk through it, having already been there three times during my visit to London last year. Nonetheless, it’s an incredible experience. You’re just walking around the place, and find yourself “bumping into” priceless artifacts that you’ve only read about in books, like the Rosetta Stone, part of the Great Sphinx, and oh, yeah, all the sculpture from the Parthenon.

I was also struck at just how different of a study abroad experience the guys on the London program have. Whereas I’m in a room alone 15 minutes out of a small town in an old army barracks, struggling to get by in another language, they’re having a great time living with a group of friends in an excellent flat in one of the highest rent districts of London, being able to enjoy and appreciate the cultural differences (mainly from being able to speak the language and therefore actually understand said differences), while basically relaxing and having a good time. I suppose one could say that my program is the more “real” study abroad program; i.e., a different language, living with the students, etc. But truth be told, I’m not sure I don’t like theirs better. It’d be nice to be able to have a great time like that, enjoying and sharing the experience among friends.

Anyways, that was my trip to London. Not much to write about, but a very good time. It was especially nice to be able to drink something other than a pilsner or hefeweizen–you can actually buy more than two types of beer in London. I was planning on going skiing either this weekend or next weekend, but now that everyone has had to bail due to cost issues or upcoming finals, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, something I’m quite disappointed about.

Just like in the Berlin post, I couldn’t fit everything in the narrative, so here are a few final random thoughts about Prague.

• Prague is probably the sketchiest city I’ve ever been to. Walking around at night, an endless stream of guys would walk up to you offering to whisk you away to a cabaret, or bar “just” 15km away–I’m not kidding. Like I’m going to get into a car with a random Eastern European and let him drive me somewhere 15km away. It was incredible. You could see them, stretching the streets like a net, and despite turning the first one down, it didn’t stop the next 10 from accosting you. I even reverted to speaking German to throw them off when they came at me in English–it didn’t work, they kept spouting their, probably prescripted, lines in English.
• It was cold. I’ve been in Germany, and I thought that was cold, but it now feels downright balmy compared to Prague. The highest temperature we saw was below 20 degrees fahrenheit, and it was frequently below that. I wore two pairs of pants, 3 shirts, a thick wool sweater, two coats, two pairs of gloves, a hat, and the hood to my jacket, and it was still cold.
• Prague is being steadily Westernized. This is to be expected. But just from the tales and photos I’ve seen from Byron Baldwin, I can tell that it’s changed. Prices are still quite cheap–$1 beers, $5 large meals–if you get off the tourist drag, but I get the feeling that even that’s disappearing; once the Euro comes into circulation there in a couple of years, I fear that’ll be the end of an affordable Prague–it’ll be just as bad as Paris or Rome. But I managed to make it through very comfortably on $40 a day, including hostel, and we were eating and drinking well. Not bad.
• The hostel we stayed in, The Boathouse, was awesome. Probably the best hostel I’ve stayed in yet. The owners were unbelievably friendly, they would cook excellent breakfasts or dinners for a swansong, and the location, while out of the way, would be amazing in the summer, when you could sit on the deck and watch the river flow by, or even take a boat out.
• It’s a strange feeling dealing in currencies that trade at such a high number to the dollar. The Czech Koruna is about 24 to one US dollar. It’s a funny feeling walking around with 1000 Koruna notes in your pocket, a bill which is really only worth about $40.
• We saw the coolest graffiti on a tram overpass. “Stop crying and record a mix tape.” Classic.
• My German was surprisingly helpful there. I didn’t expect many people to speak German, but being able to speak it certainly helped me on several occasions

Note: This is part of a series. Read the first part here.

The next morning, we got out of bed a bit earlier than we had the previous day, nothing terribly difficult given that we had actually gone to bed at a reasonable hour the night before. Today we had a specific agenda, one thing we wanted to do that would take up most of the day, and something we needed to get a jump-start on: the concentration camp Theresienstadt, Terezin in Czech, about an hour by bus from Prague. I was particularly pleased by this as it had previously been looking like I would leave Germany after having been here for six months without having seen a concentration camp, something I wasn’t too happy about.

We set out for the bus station and after some minor navigational issues, found it and got our tickets. While waiting for the bus we entertained ourselves by looking at all the people hawking cheap, touristy, counterfeit merchandise. We soon got on the bus and rode the easy hour through the frozen Czech countryside to the camp.

Upon disembarking the bus, it was immediately clear where we were. In front of us lay a field, filled with endless rows of small gravestones, many without names, and with a massive cross and star of David in the middle. It was a sobering start to a sobering visit, but one that I’m immensely glad to have made. The whole camp is perversely situated inside a massive brick fortress, so massive that it has an actual town inside its walls that, originally meant to keep people out, gained their infamy from keeping people in. We walked through the massive gates and immediately got a feel for the deolation that people must have felt there, with the holding dormitories all lines up and the obvious feel of being locked in a prison.

Walking beneath a twisted “Arbeit Macht Frei” sign (though not the Arbeit Macht Frei sign at Dachau that is so infamous), we entered into an even more disparate part of the camp, and had the luck to join up with a tour group going through so that we could get some insight into what all the buildings were used for, other than my crude German reading the signs above doors–”Wash Room,” “Commandant’s Office,” and the non-descript but equally, if not more, disturbing simple numbers above many of the doors.

We followed this tour to its completion, seeing the site of the one successful escape attempt, several holding cells, the tunnels that ran under the whole fortress, and the execution grounds where the walls still bear the holes left by the bullets 60 years ago. Once we finished the tour, we headed into town, intending to see the ghetto musuem, but running out time, necessitating our catching the bus back to Prague.

That evening, we ate dinner at Lemon Leaf, an excellent asian fusion restaurant. I had an appetizer, a main course of duck, a beer, a dessert, and I split a bottle of wine with someone, and my bill was a grand total of… $20. Incredible. From there we headed out onto the town for a night out.

The next morning we were a bit slow getting up. Once we did, we headed into town to walk around the Old Quarter. While beautiful, I must admit that I was a bit underwhelmed–much of it seemed nothing more than trinket shops. However, we didn’t get much time to spend there, so I can’t really judge that. We soon went to the Communist Museum, a small private museum detailing the communist history of the Czech Republic, including it’s occupation by the Soviets. It was an interesting and, like Theresienstadt, a sobering experience. Filled with photographs, recreations, statues, and old items like posters, cans of food, magazines, and military hardware from communist Czechoslovakia.

That night we ate an unfortunately subpar dinner and then wandered for about an hour looking for a bar–who would have thought it would have been that hard? I don’t know what it was, though I suspect it was just because of the section of town we were in–but even so, I’ve never seen such a dearth of watering holes. We finally found an excellent place, a local place, and sat down for a few beers and good, cheap gin and tonics.

The next morning, I caught a lazy breakfast, and then headed off to the airport. I was happy to be leaving the bitter fifteen degree cold, but wouldn’t have minded staying in Prague for another night, especially considering the guys I’d met there were still there for another night. But such are the sacrifices you have to make for a cheap ticket on a budget airline.

As always, there are more photos in the Photo Gallery.

Note: This post is part of a series. Read the second part here.

I made it back from London just fine. Here’s the first part of my trip to Prague, only a week late…

Wednesday afternoon, skipping my one class for the day, I caught the bus to the airport. I easily glided through security and got to my gate, soon boarding my flight before making the quick hop to Prague. Getting out of the gate and walking to the bus terminal, I was immediately struck by how cold it was. I’d know it was going to be cold, but there is a difference between reading it will be 20 degrees and stepping out into it. I was just as immediately accosted by the Prague stereotype–rogue taxi drivers. “Hey man, you need a ride?” “Cheap taxi!” “I’ll take you into town, cheap!” No thanks. I took the bus to the nearest metro stop, from there catching the subway and then another bus to the hostel.

The hostel, The Boathouse, was one of the nicer I’ve stayed in. While it was an unfortunately long way out of town, 25 minutes by tram, I suspect it’s location, on a quiet part of the Vltava south of town, would actually be a very nice place in summer. Location aside, everything else was incredible. The women that run it are like mothers, and took care of anything we needed. They also offered dinner and deluxe breakfast, both excellent, for excellent prices.

Immediately after checking in, I met Joel, a rather awkward, though very nice, American from Seattle. We hung out while I waited for my friends from London to arrive on their later flight. We ate dinner at the hostel, enjoying an excellent goulash stew followed by schnitzel, then we went into town for a bit to grab a beer. I got my first sight of the Charles Bridge here, lit up at night with the castle towering on the other bank. The Charles Bridge is by far one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, and stolling across it with the Vltava flowing under you while the gorgeous medieval buildings rise on either side is a wonderful experience.

Getting back to the hostel, the guys from London soon arrived, and we all sat down with a few beers and drank and caught up for a bit. I hadn’t seen these guys for four or more months, so it was excellent to get to talk to them. Eventually we decided to head to bed so that we’d still have some energy to get up the next morning.

That next morning, we caught a wonderful breakfast at the hostel, then headed into town. We walked along the Vltava, where I saw several sights I know from photographs that my good friend and former photography teacher, Byron Baldwin had taken, one of which I have framed and hanging on my wall in Charlotte. We then caught a tram across the river and up the hill to the castle, narrowly avoiding getting busted for having slightly expired tickets.

The castle in Prague is actually nothing like a castle that one thinks of. The seat of Czech government for some time, it is actually an enclosed palace area, encompassing many different residences and buildings, and even containing its own very large gothic cathedral. At all the gates stand guards, very similar to the royal guards in London, standing stock still while tourists flock around them taking pictures. They even march around the grounds in groups of three. We walked around the grounds for a while, some wandering into the cathedral while others of us just walked the grounds. Probably the most incredible part was one of the gates, what had to have been the main gate, surrounded by wraught iron fencing topped with incredible statues, guarded by more stone-still royal guards, and looking over the most incredible view of Prague. The Vltava spreads out below you, while the endless red roofs of the Mala Strana, the Little Quarter, cluster along the side of the hill. It was a fantastic view, and reaffirmed to me that Prague was by far the most beautiful city I’ve ever been to, surpassing London, Paris, and even Rome.

Soon, stomachs growling with hunger, we walked up the hill a bit more to the monastery brewery there for lunch and a couple of drinks. The lunch was good, but the beer, brewed on the premises, was incredible–and incredibly potent. The amber was 13% alcohol, while the dark was 14%. The funny thing was, you couldn’t taste the alcohol at all, though you could feel it as it hit your stomach and started tingling, or when you had a nice buzz after only one beer. We had to deliberately pace ourselves lest we end up drunk, but we managed to leave with nothing more than a nice buzz, a welcome shield from the bitter cold outside.

By this time, the sun was starting to go down, so we wandered around through the city and across the Charles Bridge, taking in the view in the fading daylight. We then caught the tram back home to shower and warm up, but after a nice dinner, we were all so tired and not wanting to go back out in the cold that we skipped plans to go out that night and instead managed to get to bed at an early hour.

In London visiting friends here for the weekend. I have the Prague posts written, but my laptop won’t connect to the network here, so it’s going to have to wait until I get back on Tuesday.

Prague update coming soon… I’ve got a lot of things going on right now, and I fly out again on Wednesday, this time to London. In the meantime, the pictures are up in the gallery. I think I got some very good ones, check them out.

I leave for Prague this morning, meeting a few friends from London there. I’ll be back on Sunday.