Hamburg

You know those movies where people wander around a European city having deep, meaningful conversations? Well, here is a sampling of our conversations our last night in Amsterdam.

“There is NO WAY E.T. could have lifted 5 Vespa scooters.”

“You know what I want to do? Ride around on a bike with my hoodie on, with you in the front basket with a white blanket draped over you.”

“So, if Morgan Freeman is God in every movie he’s in, that means he breaks the law to live on absconded funds in Shawshank.”

“You know, we haven’t seen many mullets or manpris lately. Maybe we should start counting fashion scarves or skinny jeans.” “We may as well number the stars in the sky, Kyle.”

            And if you’re not interested in our deep conversations, maybe you’re curious about the people. Like our tousled silver fox boat captain in Amsterdam, or the soft-spoken lady receptionist in Hamburg. Or the overweight guy buzzing around on a tiny tiger-striped Vespa in Holland, who looked a lot like the pathetic guy from the lounge in Brussels, who had to butt into every conversation, including the flirtatious ones, asking questions like, “I’ve been to __________. Have you guys ever been to ___________? Do you watch soccer? My favorite player is Eduardo.” Or maybe you’d like to hear about the guy on the Hamburg metro picking his nose all the way up to the 3^rd knuckle, or the guy on the subway dressed like a beaver, or the old man gulping radishes out of a bag (surprise) also on the metro. Or maybe the guy peeing into the bushes in broad daylight in Hamburg (Kyle: “I told you not to look left.”).

            As you can probably tell, we’ve been to Hamburg. I’m actually writing this from the train from Hamburg to Berlin. We are sitting on the floor between cars (as I warned Kyle might happen) because there’s no space elsewhere. Kyle is sleepy, and was actually dozing  off somehow. But, before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you about leaving Amsterdam and our time in Hamburg.

            We spent the last night in Amsterdam wandering around a bit, having some of those deep conversations and eating Turkish kebob (or, as per Kyle, Turkish burrito). Amsterdam has a lot of international food, especially Asian/Indonesian, due to its past history as a trading and shipping giant and the cultural exchanges that resulted.

            The next morning, we boarded the train to Hamburg. Kyle had gotten an egg salad and bacon sandwich from a kiosk for breakfast. I was nervous about the train because we had 2 connections (especially with the luggage), but everything went well. For the last train, we did have to do the old “find a corner between the cars and hang on” because there wasn’t an open seat. I began to wonder how long it would take Kyle to start reserving train spots.

            Arriving in Hamburg, here are some initial impressions. Kyle used the word “grungy”, and I would agree that it’s a good adjective. People bustle here more than in Amsterdam, especially around the train station. There is also a sizable homeless/pan-handling contingent who tends to be very loud/angry/inebriated. Passing under the bridge with the large homeless encampment gathered around fires was a little unnerving.  Hamburg also seems to be the mullet capital of the world. The population is much less diverse and older and people tend to dress more for practicality than fashion. When people here dress up, it’s more in the vein of typical “rebel” fashion, with a lot of studs, leather, body modifications, etc. We found out that there’s nothing more punk than sitting in a circle Indian-style (a la kindergarten) outside of the train station in order to do each other’s Mohawks.

            After getting our bearings, Kyle and I boarded the metro for the hostel, The Arcade. A little ways out of the city (so I got my exercise dragging the luggage), it is one of the nicer places we’ve stayed at, despite Kyle initially calling it the Ku Klux Klan motel due to its oddly shaped triangular pillows. The main room is very spacious (at least more spacious than a 4’ x 6’ cabin on a boat), with 2 beds, a closet, a desk, and a mirror I can actually see into (huzzah!). What’s more, it has a small adjoining room with a sink and shower of our very own. Oh, the luxury! (The internet was not working, however. Only downside)

            After settling in, we go back to town to do some sight-seeing things. We see their giant, ugly modern tower/antenna in the distance, a couple of museums (just the outsides), and their town hall, or rathaus (the main site in town, very impressive). We see some churches-St. Petri and St. Georges-as well as St. Michaelis, a Lutheran church with a very impressive organ. We also see the St. Nikolai Memorial, a church that was bombed in WWII, and is now just bits of church, with nothing really standing except the main steeple. Quite eerie.

            Afterwards, we went to see Hamburg Harbor (Hamburg was Germany’s connection to the sea through which many immigrants passed). Then we went to the St. Pauli area to find some Beatles landmarks (without virtue of knowing exactly where they were and using a brochure I picked up at the hostel). St. Pauli is very….um….artistic, and I didn’t actually enjoy wandering through there. But, we did find the Kaiserkeller and the Indra, and walked the Reeperbahn. Then we got out of there.

            Dinner was sausage sandwiches at a park where they had set up a screen to watch a soccer match, which was rain delayed. It had been spitting rain off and on for us all day.

            Hotel, shower, Kyle falling asleep to weird German music retrospective instead of South Park.

            The next morning, we go to the train station to catch the train to Berlin. Kyle eats an egg and mustard sandwich. I have a fruit cup, and then the train comes.

            Now, we should have realized from the old German people yelling at each other on the platform that this was going to be a mess. So, the train arrives, and cue a student group, plus the Elderly Jamboree/Old People Go Wild (think about twenty 65-85 year-olds) crowding madly into the cars. The students are all just trying to get past to their section, and the older people stand in the middle of everything, acting confused, pushing their way against the flow of bodies into spots they can’t get out of, yelling at everyone, and they wouldn’t just sit down. After about 30 minutes of this, and already passing the first stop, a conductor comes through, and we make some progress. Kyle and I look the length of the train, avoiding the suitcase barricades the students had erected against the Elderly Jamboree (not kidding), and finally find seats only to get kicked out because, oops, they’re first class. Then I drag and kick my luggage all the way back, with Kyle insisting that there must be someplace better to sit (“No. Let’s just…sit here), and finally giving into the “floor between the cars” plan again. Now, Kyle is dozing.

            About one hour to Berlin, and the hippie commune.