After school was over I had the opportunity to travel around (mostly) Northern Europe for a little while to meet new people and see new stuff. On the itinerary: Riga, Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Munich. Here’s a quick recap of the trip.
Riga
Riga is ice cold. If you travel there in December at three in the morning after attending a huge, free-alcohol, school-sponsored party, and then you walk around the city with wet feet gazing at the Baltic-gothic churches and architecture, you’re sure to get sick as a dog.
And so it was with me, wasting away much of my time in the fetal position in my bed in the hostel. Luckily, I was only guest staying in the hostel for the three days I was there, so others were spared my hacking, shivering, and whining. Plus, it was a fairly good environment in which to involuntarily spend time. The kitchen, all shiny and clean and advertised on HostelWorld as “the best kitchen in Riga,” was not a disappointment. Nor was the staff, who offered me biscuits and insider tips on the best pharmacies to visit in Riga.
Since I was the only one in the hostel, I took turns watching movies and television series with the complete rotation of workers. One pleasantly sarcastic Latvian girl --when the movie was paused, she would always say “hurry up, you’re missing it”-- and I watched about 8 hours straight of Dr. House. I told her through my sniffles and coughs that a medical drama/comedy was a good program for me to watch because at the end of the night I would have assimilated enough med-talk to be able to diagnose myself.
The one major thing that I DID have time to see in Riga was the Occupation Museum, which I found to be both sobering and inspirational. I also thought a more appropriate name for this museum would have been the Latvian National “Please Leave Us the Fuck Alone!” Museum.
Its purpose was basically to highlight the many downsides of hosting an occupying force in your country. For instance, I learned that the occupying guests almost always overstay their welcome: brutally suppressing any nationalist spirit or sign of criticism, sending dissenters to Gulag-esque labor camps, and almost never taking their shoes off at the border before coming into the country. Some guests.
In particular, the museum chronicled Latvia’s occupation first by the USSR around 1920, then by the Germans during WWII, and then again by the USSR until relatively recent times.
The highlight was looking at all the cool knick knacks and objects of art that the political prisoners made while imprisoned. Not just shivs and that sort of fare, but beautiful chessboards, furniture, and clothing.
Copenhagen
In Copenhagen I used Couchsurfing.com to find a couch to sleep on. It was kind of short notice, but luckily a woman named Linda was nice enough to take me into her house for a couple nights.
It was my first time using Couchsurfing, and I found it to be the height of cultural exchange.
The first night she made me a very traditional Danish Christmas meal (smeared black bread), played me some Danish pop music (Supine?) and laughed at my Danish pronunciation. And the next night I made American “Macaroni and Cheese,” played some blues on her piano, and marveled at her accent-free English. She was also kind enough to take some time out of her day and give me a walking tour of Copenhagen. That’s the big benefit of a site like couchsurfing, the personal connection with someone who knows the city and is willing to teach you about it. That’s tough to find at a hostel.
Plus, you might even meet other couch surfers in addition to your host. For instance, the second night a doctor from Tanzania named Wilson stayed with Linda and took the two of us out to a birthday party one of his Danish friends was having. Another great Danish experience.
A party, some new friends, a walking tour, and traditional food. Who could ask for more?
A party, some new friends, a walking tour, and traditional food. Who could ask for more?
Stockholm
After Copenhagen it was on to Stockholm, where a friend of mine named Catia was staying for a couple of nights. This was great for a couple of reasons: 1) Catia is a good-souled and interesting human being and 2) when we hang out we speak exclusively in German.
Since I only had about week left to completely master ever single facet of the German language, and was currently still struggling with the difference between 17 and 70, a bit of practice was welcome.
Since neither of us are actual German masters (Catia is a native French speaker and I an English one) the results are somewhat hilarious. I’m sure for native German speakers it’s like listening to six-year olds blabber on. And that’s exactly what it’s like for us too. But that’s also the fun of it, the challenge of communicating. And armed only with smiles, a limited vocabulary, and childlike declarative sentences, we persevered and faced that challenge.
As far as sights and activities in Stockholm, we decided to go to the Nobel Prize museum. The national art museum might have been fun too, but we’d both seen Van Gogh sunflowers or Gauguin Polynesians before; the Nobel Museum, on the other hand, was something unique to Stockholm.
I still haven’t quite made up my mind about it. The museum was not only incredibly small, but it was also home to surprisingly few historical objects. A handful really. Some slippers from physicist X, a beaker from chemist Y, that sort of thing.
Luckily, there was a pretty cool temporary exhibit that took up about half the floor space of the museum. It dealt with how Ingmar Bergman (non-Nobel Laureate, but Swede, and one of Woody Allen’s idols) staged the productions of 5 Nobel prize-winning playwrights: Eugene O’Neil, Albert Camus, Luigi Pirandello, Harry Martinson, and a Swedish feller' named Par Lagerkvist. The exhibit was composed of, among other things, a bunch of great photos of Bergman in action by photographers who I’m sure are of great importance to people who know about that sort of thing.
Another highlight was the “Listening” section, where guests are invited to listen to acceptance or other speeches from past laureates. This was very cool.
There was a great little American section are where one could listen to post WWII American Nobel Laureates Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, and Toni Morrison. I had never heard Hemingway or Faulkner speak before. I was a bit surprised to hear Hemingway speaking almost exactly as he writes: in short, clear sentences (e.g.-- “My next book is about X. I hope it is good.”). I also very much enjoyed being exposed to Faulkner’s Southern twang and surprising modesty.
In contrast, I had heard Toni Morrison speak before. As always, I found her to be a very talented speaker with the odd gift that, as soon as she begins to speak ,the audience finds itself with the strange urge to begin weeping immediately for the pain and beauty of the human condition. It’s almost like a superpower. Admittedly, it’s not as cool a superpower as what Professor Xavier has, but probably cooler than whatever Jubilee does.
Munich
In Munich I stayed with another Couch Surfer named Florian who saved me from a hostel at the last moment. Florian gave me a little walking tour around the gates, churches, and squares of Munich and then I spent the rest of the day at the Pinakothek der Moderne (tons of Max Beckman and a great design and jewelry section). Later that night the two of us had a great dinner with 4 other couchsurfers (above) at a guy named Christian’s place.
That’s another one of the beauties of couchsurfing, the spontaneous hospitality. I wasn’t staying with Christian, but had met him at a couchsurfing meeting the previous night in Munich. After about two minutes of chatting he immediately invited me over for dinner the next night.
After dinner we drank Becks and red wine until well into the morning and eventually agreed on how to solve at least 30% of the world’s problems.
It was another great couchsurfing experience.
Amsterdam
Right now I am in Amsterdam for two days before heading home to the United States. My hostel is a bit dirty and the staff isn’t particularly friendly, but there’s wireless in my room and some interesting old hippies are here so I guess it’s a wash.
I’ll let you know how it goes. Then it’s back to Iowa. Hope to see you soon!
