Where is all this water coming from?

Italians and Vegetarians... mutually exclusive

2010-12-31T20:07:00.006+01:00

So... after more than a year, I am in Italy again... and wanted to write a note:

At age four, I sat on my great great uncle Albert’s (Alberto Valentino, to be specific) lap and decided something quite profound--

Ready? (listen closely)…
"There are two types of people in this world—vegetarians and Italians"
—and you could only be one.

I asked uncle Albert to confirm, and he said I was correct.

…

No… I genuinely believed this to be true --that the opposite of vegetarians were Italians, and not, as others may see it, carnivores.

For fourteen more years, I remained an Italian—a Benaquisto, a Setta, a Valentino, a Vatucci, and a Lolli—those are and were the family names on my mother’s side. Until 1998 when I became a Vegetarian. According to my personal proclamation, I suppose I should have been addressed by my birth name, which I discovered only last year, makes me Swiss German.

Despite that we al get a small laugh at the expense of a cute four-year-old’s words, I learned last night that my discovery, my young proclamation was in fact…truth.

And the sooner the rest of you catch on, the sooner we weill begin solving the world's problems.
I’m talking peace in the middle east, the economic crisis, the whole she-bang…

Staring my last flexible days as an independent consultant in the face, I chose to spend two weeks in Europe prior to mid-night on January 10, 2011 at which point I will turn into a pumpkin… or rather I will join the the workforce as a 9-5pm-er (finally).

So… given I have three Italian friends who all would be in Italy with their families over the holidays (they normally live in the Netherlands), I decided to take my vacation to visit them with their families in my motherland…or, as my first-generation Italian-American relatives call it, “The Old Country." My great-grandparents were born Lolli’s and Setta’s about two hours east of Rome, in a village called Pacentro. They emigrated in the early 1900’s to Detroit, Michigan.

Now that you have the background, I hereby recount the first hours of my visit to confirm my aforementioned point. I disclaim in advance that I generalize AND stereotype below.

But I justify it that… well, if stereotypes and generalizations weren’t true, then we wouldn’t make them. J

28 Dicembre, 2010.

The last hour of two-hour KLM Flight from Amsterdam to Milan (following the 8 hour flight from Detroit to Amsterdam), was stunning. The Italian Alps are more beautiful than I could have imagined, and the contrast of the bright white snow, the bright blue sky, and the tiny villages dotting the hillsides nearly took my breath away.

My friend Alessio picked me up at the airport in Milan and drove me 1 ½ hours up into the mountains to a beautiful village called Trivero.

(view from my bedroom)

Alessio’s sweet (Italian) mother greeted me at the door, saying in her best English, (she has had 10 lessons now!) “hello, hello… ciao! Ciao!” (personally, I’m quite impressed. How many people do you know over 50 decide to learn a new language?)

She immediately ushered me into the house and then to where every other (Italian) mother ushers you…

the kitchen.

While Alessio parked the car, she and I and sat staring at each other trying to figure out what to say. I'll admit, it was kind of awkward. But I have this part mastered: “Non parlo Italiano”. (It means, “I do not speak Italian.")
Alessio’s mother and I spent about three minutes staring out the window at the church (above) and the beautiful view repeating, “Church” in English and Italian (chiesa), and “bello” in Italian (it means beautiful).

Then we tried to get fancy and moved on to things like…”bello chiesa…” which means…(gasp!)

“beautiful church.”

This fascinating conversation was followed up with another minute of “si! Si!” and lots of head nodding. She then asked, “the´ ”? which is italian for “tea,” (or so I guessed--and luckily I was correct) and I answered “Si” for two reasons:

1. I was cold, and
2. We needed something to talk about other than the church.

Fortunately, Alessio came in, interpreted a bit more, and we ate some Italian “tipici” (typical in English) (you can see this is not rocket science here) cookies/pasticceria. I had brought home-made good ole’ American chocolate chip cookies as an offering and Gemma (his mom) ate one.
Now, given the reputation Italians have for being both excellent cooks and food snobs (I think the former entitles the latter), I held my breath as she bit into a transatlantic, 24-hour old, 4000 mile jet-lagged-baked-at-375 FARENHEIT-slice of Americana…

Pause, crunch, crunch, crunch…

suspense!

“Brava, bravíssima!”

(relief).

Now, I have no idea if she was just humoring me, but frankly,

I. DON’T. CARE.

My cookies are Bravíssima!

I may never bake again.

I was then escorted up the marble(?) staircase to Silvia’s room. She was forced to stay at her boyfriends house all week so I could sleep there. (so kind :) ) Some two hours passed and we were called for dinner. For a moment, I worried… should I have told them I am a vegetarian?

No… Alessio probably remembers the specially-baked-vegetarian dinner we had at Luca’s house three months ago in the Netherlands…

Or maybe he doesn’t.

Either way… I thought… if there’s a little meat, it's no big deal--I’ll eat around it or just take a little so that I won’t be rude. Plus, how much could there really be?

(enter irony…)

First we sit through some slightly awkward silences speaking some English and some Italian while Alessio translates. (he must have a headache by now for going back and forth). Though my knowledge of Spanish has gotten me futher than I would have expected at least for understanding what people are saying. So we chat a bit more and wait a bit more for Pappá, Sandro, because he “é sempre in ritardo. “
I asked the word for “brother” and then commented that I ALSO have a brother who is “sempre in ritardo.” No, that doesn’t mean he’s a retard—it means that he’s always late.

After five more minutes waiting for Pappa and then decide to go ahead with the antipasti—yes, just like you’ve had in Italian restaurants in the US. Now many of you may have salivating glands at this point, but my glands were terrified, tails between their legs, whimpering in the corner, and trying to run.

So.. I see olives, bread, long thin crispy breadsticks, and two types of very thinly sliced meat. I think one was parma ham, the other procuitto. So I think I’m getting off easy with taking a small piece of one of them. But then out comes another tray with a new darker kind of meat which I learn is beef, and they insist that I eat this. “Oh!” I exclaim, (excited J )… And just when I think that’s it, they noticed I haven’t yet tried all three and my friend says… “oh you must have this. I think it’s the best.”

*I’d like to note that the reason at this point I don’t want to tell them I’m a vegetarian is that 1) I don’t want them to worry and have to accommodate for a few days, 2) I do not want to be rude—it’s so wonderful that someone has prepared a meal for me, I can’t imagine telling them I want something else--(plus wasting the food as far as I’m concerned, is worse from a veggie perspective than eating it)

So… I try all of them. Actually I eat all of them. Completely. I carefully watched Alessio and his mamma, Gemma, cut their meat and use their crispy breadsticks to eat. Mostly because I haven’t cut meat in a while. And while I know that it is not rocket science, I do notice there’s a special way that carnivores hold their forks in general (not just Italians). And mostly, I didn’t want to give myself away.

It was probably obvious to them anyway, but even if not, it was certainly awkward, me cutting my meat, and them watching (I think they were watching). First, I tried to pry the meat from the fat strips down the center of it. This proved impossible and after nearly separating the two (but never fully able to cut through the fat!), I was left with one long continuous strip of prociutto-fat (maybe at least 15 centimeters if we had stretched it out). I tried to keep them engaged in conversation so hopefully they wouldn’t notice. Because ultimately unsuccessful at cutting the meat, I resorted to rolling it—like spaghetti.
That I know how to do.

I’m fairly certain they didn’t catch on that I was a vegetarian because they didn’t say anything—perhaps they just pegged me as one from the times before someone invented silverware. I can see the newspaper headlines running through their minds now--
“WOMAN DISCOVERS FORK”

Anyway… we move onto the cannelloni. Something I had recognized from the United States—It’s like cross between a crepe and lasagna. It had some delicious white sauce mixed with cheese, stacked in layers, and baked with … you guessed it… more meat. Ham to be specific.

So, whatever… when in Rome, right? (oh how literal!)

But it was good. I won’t say that I would prefer cannelloni WITH ham in it as opposed to without, but it was good nonetheless. In fact, it was good enough that I even had a second serving to fill me up.

Then Pappa shows up. And he is perfect. So friendly and nice, just like Mamma. Pappa speaks English and, unlike Mamma, is not shy to practice with me.

--Interruption—I’d like to bring up a fact that Alessios’ mamma, who, in addition being so sweet, thoughtful, kind, accommodating, a FABULOUS cook (like all Italian mothers—even Italian-American ones), likes shoving food down your throat as an expression of care, “Mangia, mangia!”… now… hold onto your seats…

she also NEVER. Sits. Down.

(sound like anyone you know?)

And if she does, it’s for ½ of a second to cut a bite of cannelonni, and then she gets back up again into the kitchen.

So we all did sit finishing our food and I was feeling quite full, and getting excited to be a European and have an excuse for drinking (good) coffee late at night.

But then… (and if any of you have dined in Italian restaurants or at an Italian wedding, you know what comes next)…

She brings out more food.

Pasta would have been a “primi,” and here for a “segundi,” we had… what else than… beef skewers, potatoes, and chicken on the bone. I tried to decline on account of being full (I can’t believe I asked for seconds). But this appeared not to be an option.

Initially, Alessio kindly offered to share my chicken with me but, not knowing that it was on a bone, I blew it by trying to cut the chicken down the center. I cut perpendicular to the bone, making it entirely impossible for this to be a smooth and successful operation (there’s a reason I built trails and never became a surgeon… the room for error is much larger in the forest).
When I looked to Alessio for help, he shrugged his shoulders, smiled, tilted his head and said, “I guess you’ll just have to eat the whole thing then.”

Alas, I ate what I could and made a mess of it in attempt to avoid eating the fat. Success.

Meat was followed by fresh oranges which were delicious. So THIS was how Italians ate dessert. More my style (respite).… until

She came out with gelato.

Good lord.

How much can you people eat??

Here I drew the line. Not on account of vegetarianism, but because I had already done a number on myself and I’m pretty sure this would have rendered me incapacitated, searching for the word, “ospedale” (hospital).

To finish off the night (and 12 years of my carefully-chosen-on-ethical-grounds-of-fair-treatment,-energy-resources,-and-well,-I-can’t-kill-it-therefore-I-don’t-think-I deserve-to-eat-it-Diet), Alessio and I drove 15 minutes up the mountain for (another) real Italian dinner at a restaurant to join his sister and childhood friends. Mind you this is 9:00pm and dinner number 2. And like all Italians, they offered us EVERYThing on the table, and (including the cook/owner) took it personally every time I declined (which was almost every time). So to make them happy, (and forget my sorrows), I accepted the offer to drink read wine and eat… you got it--polenta with deer.

I just hope it wasn’t Bambi.

29 Dicembre, 2010 a brief lesson from the day after…

The downside of lying (I clearly didn’t learn from after-school-specials), is that there is no way out of a lie except the truth. You keep digging deeper and deeper, making new lies, so that you don’t get caught for the first. And the following day, we went to a restaurant in the beautiful region of Liguria (look at it on Google maps).

Alessio had to come here for work, so I joined him along with his sister Silvia and her boyfriend Paolo.

On the menu outside the resturant ai saw Gnocchi Alla Sorrentina… my favorite food in the world as all the members in my family know. This means potato dumplings in tomoato sauce with garlic and mozzarella.

Also, purely vegetarian. (yesssss!)

So I was pretty sure I was home free at this point.
But much to my dismay, they all ordered antipasti again. I declined reasoning that I wouldn’t’ be hungry enough to eat my gnocchi, but they insisted again.

Now, had I been up front, I could have gotten away without eating it, or at least encouraged the salad option. But I only knew that telling them now meant Alessio would feel terrible, and then he would tell his mother, who, like a good Italian Catholic, would both: 1) feel guilty for the rest of her life, and 2) fuss over me for the next four days.

So… *sigh* I ate it.

Deeper and deeper I go.

Going back to my original statement...maybe I've been lying to myself this whole time... if always an italian, to the blood, then maybe I was never meant to be a vegetarian...

I wonder what's on the menu tonight??

When in Rome... 30 november 2009

2009-12-05T00:24:00.001+01:00

Last night I walked past the Colosseum in Rome and everything fell silent. Those walking stopped talking, the moon was extra bright, no carabinieri sirens, nothing. Truly breathtaking and I didn’t take a photo of it --partially because photos don’t ever really capture feelings like those, and partially because I really only want to remember the Colosseum in that scene exactly as it was—perfect.

Having spent now five Thanksgiving Holidays in-a-row away from home, this by far must be the best one. I was in a beautiful country with some of my dearest family--though not blood family, but given we were in Italy, you know-- they were “family”… fuggedaboudit

I spent two days in Rome and though I intended to meet them on Tuesday in Siena (a couple hours north), coincidence would have it that I bumped into them in the Sistine Chapel a day early. So we spent the rest of the day together and headed out to the countryside.

We stayed five nights at Spannochia—a farm/castle that is a few hundred years old, where we got a tour of the garden, took cooking classes, played Euchre(!!!) toured the smaller towns nearby and also visited Florence.

The food—delicious. Scenery—beautiful, Company—restorative… and the setting? It’s the motherland so really, I couldn't have been happier...

Additional Highlights of italy:

*The flight from Prague to Venice

*First night in Rome, walking to an Irish Pub to catch the Michigan-Ohio State Football match, I just happen to pass ancient ruins on either side of me… just in the same way you pass the grocery store, the park, the beauty salon, or the bank … this city amazes me and there was something truly magical about it all.

*Going for a run in the same track the Chariot Races took place

*Making pasta with a Loredonna, who was just like my aunt. (she's clearly making sure I was doing it right)

*The quiet and the fog in the morning

*The comfort of friends...

*Feeding the pigeons in St. Marks’ square, Venice

*The suave Venetian Servers trying to convince me to eat at his restaurant... I pause and realize I can't pretend I don't like whats on the menu (since EVERY restaurant has fresh Italian food) so I say instead that "I'm going to return to my hotel first." Then he says, "Okay you come back and I buy you a drink."

I say, "Okay thank you that is very kind." (no intention). Then as I leave, he looks me in the eye and whispers loudly, "Come back and I SHOW YOU VENICE!!!"

my heart be still. please sense the sarcasm.

*Meandering through sleepy ancient towns in the Tuscan Countryside with people who may know me better than I know myself

*Finally waving goodbye to my well-loved pair of running shoes I had been toting around with me. Someone in Rome will use them to climb the Spanish Stairs I am sure.

I am thankful for so many things this year and do my best to make sure that those important to me know I am thankful for them too...

this is somewhat an abbreviated post, but posted nonetheless
so with that, i will leave you in my newly acquired italian skills...

CIAO BELLA!!!

Nights in Schweitz Satin

2009-11-20T18:24:00.000+01:00

Going to be a bit late…

A friend of mine who lives in Zürich e-troduced me to her friends in Basel, Schweiz (German for Switzerland) who kindly offered me to stay in their home for 3 day duration of my research.

Intending to leave Dresden Monday night on the overnight train to Basel (10 hours) and arrive Tuesday morning at 8am where I would meet Reto (my host), I was quite surprised to receive a text message at 8am on Monday MORNING which said, “Sorry Jessica, I missed my train and I’m running about a half hour late, I’ll be there by 8:30am.”

Um… I was still in Dresden…

So I quickly went back to check the communications I had made to inform my hosts of my arrival when I realized I apparently mixed up the dates on account of the overnight train. Yes, I was leaving Dresden on November 2, but would not Arrive until November 3^rd. Doh!

or, in German, Döh!

So, feeling like a schmuck, I replied to Reto’s apologetic message with one of my own to absolve him of any guilt he may be feeling text which read,

“No worries, take you’re time because I’ll be a day late.”

What a great way to start my visit to this country. Fortunately he was not upset. Then when he missed his train and was late again the following morning however, and felt guilty, I reminded him that at least he wasn’t a day late like me. And he could play that card for a while.

After arriving, I immediately went into town to wander the streets just prior to meeting my first contact there, Thomas, who works for an emergency planning organization. When he called to give me directions, he told me to make sure not to take the street car in the direction “France” but to take it in Direction “Marktplatz”

… I said, “France? As in, the Country? France?”

And he laughed at me.

I still cannot get over how close everything is here. After growing up in the US where we are so spread out, and we are so far away from the countries whose languages we study, whose histories we learn, it is strange to be just down the tram stop from "France."

Markt Platz.

Basel is a town on the Rhine River (which I know you all know because you’ve been doing your own research on my flood-chasing), also on the border of Germany and France.

The Rhine River divides Basel into Klein Basel (small basel)

And Großer Basel (grosser).

Gross basel is also where most of the tourist stuff is because it is so old, but both towns have a nice feel to them.

The couple with whom I stayed live just near Gross Basel and were very sweet. I set up post in their living room for a couple of days to explore the city and continue my research. (YES, I am actually doing research).

Bear unfortunately didn’t make it out into Basel with me (pity, he would have loved the river) because he was laying down in the flat all days with a couple of valium after the sticker shock of the first cup of coffee we enjoyed at the train station. So I did most of the exploring on my own.

One quirky thing about Basel right now is that there is a festival going on, the Autumn Fair. It apparently started some 500 years ago when the Pope decided that this city must be able to have a festival. So , they have one every year at this time—indeed—just because they can.

The Autumn Fair is like a combination of a carnival (minus the carnies, these folks are much different than those who run carnivals in the states… short of offending anyone, these carnies don’t smoke, they have all of their teeth, good hair, style, and appear to actually enjoy children—oh, and you can’t win any goldfish), a bake-sale (amazing local treats and spice cakes designed to send you to the hospital on cardiac arrest,) and a craft fair.

The festival also spread all over the city and held in seven locations. It is in front of the cathedral, the Rathaus (town hall), the other churches, on BOTH sides of the river and there are people everywhere so there is quite the positive energy bouncing about.

And after my first 3 full days in Switzerland, aside from it being perhaps the most expensive place I have ever been (Benchmark: small Starbucks coffee = $6.90), Switzerland is exactly as we stereotype it to be, and even more, it is happy to be so...

Proof:

Swiss Cheese

Swiss Banks (yea uncle J, I checked on your account, and… I’m looking up the German word for “foreclosure” right now)

Swiss watches

Swiss Chocolates

Swiss neutrality (see, dont' these people just look ready to not-take-a-stance-on-a-conflict?)

(actually what is funny about this picture is that the tree was just put there (it's cut at the bottom, not planted) by the crane. And they made us all walk around it. Then they wedged it into place with. Maybe they decorate it? Apparently conifers are not endemic to Basel.

Swiss Cheetah’s on leashes

Swiss Army Knives

Swiss Cuban Cigars (wait—what??)

Accountability

2009-11-20T16:39:00.003+01:00

This is a brief post, to pass on a landmark decision regarding flood policy in the United States issued just two days ago.

For a couple of years, there have been numerous lawsuits against the US Army Corps of Engineers to hold them liable for the damages and devastation which ensued as a result of errors before and during Hurricane Katrina in August, 2005.

A 1928 Flood Control Act (after some of the worst Mississippi River Floods) granted the US Army Corps of Engineers complete immunity from any damages resulting from floods, even if damages were caused by mistakes made by the Corps (for example, poor design, poor operation or construction, poor maintenance (not fixing leaks in levees or maintaining navigational canals, etc)).

Incidentally 80% of all "disasters" are human caused, not nature-caused.

Therefore, this made it very difficult to find the Corps liable for any damages resulting from failures of Corps-built and maintained structures which "protected" New Orleans. Most of the lawsuits have not been successful because of this act, but one suit with a new angle was.

The story is here on this link NY Times Article

There are no doubt pros and cons to this and I'm happy to share my opinion but would rather you form your own.

One large plus (that I will share) is that this decision now requires that the Corps of Engineers (responsible for all flood "protection" in the United States) be accountable to their decisions, their designs, their flood control structures, navigational channels, etc with special regard to protection of citizens, property etc... it is a step in the right direction...

Floods in England
On another note, massive floods in England unfortunately. I think sometimes it is difficult for us to imagine what it is actually like during a flood (and even those who have experienced tend to forget)... but here is a link to an article with a video, which does a little bit of justice to the situation. It's quite cold which is important to remember. Flooding In Cumbria And see photos

One important take home message comes from a quote from the NY Times article where Environment Secretary Hilary Benn said, ''What we dealt with last night was probably more like one-in-a-1,000, so even the very best defenses, if you have such quantities of rain in such a short space of time, can be over-topped,''

This town in England was supposed to be defended to a one-in-100 year flood. But this was a one-in-1000 year flood. Which means that the protection measures could not handle the volume from the rain, and even when we have protection, there is still a residual risk from larger floods. The policy in the US is the same, protection for the one-in-100.

30 Oktober, Double-O7 in Double-09

2009-11-12T23:50:00.000+01:00

30 October, 2009

Sorry this is dated!

After only 2 hours in Dresden, it already it seemed like the friendliest city in Germany. People smiling, chatting, its’ very young it seems (or at lest the “neustadt” is). People walk around smiling. So far, this place is the most laid back, friendly place I have been in the whole country. Not only did I pass a restaurant with Veggie Burgers on the menu (rare for home of the brat-loving peoples), but there is an organic market nearby, and (the best part), an apartment on my street with a Michigan flag on its balcony. So I guess this may be one of the first times I have felt “at home”…

Does it get any better?

Now, some of you may (or may not) know Dresden as the infamous town Kurt Vonnegut writes about in his World War II era-book, Slaughterhouse Five. Others may know it as the town in Eastern Germany that on February 15 1945, the Allied Forces (aka, U.S, Great Britain, etc) bombed the living daylights out of for 48 hours, killing anywhere from 35,000 people, many of whom were refugees, women, and children. It is arguable (in this part of the country for sure) that the forces had no business in doing so because the war was over, and these were civilians. No, I’m not knocking on the Allied Forces and I have nothing but respect and appreciation for battle fought on my behalf, but I’m telling you the story of this place.

Needless to say, while other parts of Europe are incredibly old, Dresden Germany is all reconstructed since 1945. Then more of it is being reconstructed after Reunification (1990), and even a lot of it (and the whole Saxon State and parts of the Czech Republic) is being reconstructed still after the flood on the River Elbe in August of 2002. Incidentally, this is the reason I came to Dresden. Hence, this place is a particularly interesting landscape. That, and Eastern Germany is a bit different culturally and economically from western Germany.

And as soon as I walked into the Dönner shop, (there are loads of them around Germany, its essentially a place that sells kebabs (like gyros), falafel, and pizza, the Pakistani man running it was already asking me where I come from, how old I am, am I married…. Waaaait a second.

Ha!

Okay so once I realized where that conversation was going, I started to lie a bit.

Do you have somewhere to stay?

Yes. (okay that wasn’t a lie. But what I didn’t add was that I was staying in the same building as the kebap shop)

Do you have a boyfriend?

Er… yes. Yes I do.

Do you know people and have friends in Dresden?

Um… yep. Sure do.

In all honesty I think he was just friendly and you know what, I say let’s hear it for being direct and to the point right? Funny how in the US when people are direct like that, we automatically think they are creepy. But really I think they’re smart and not wasting time. J

Following our exchange, a young German woman my age (and style) came in and was chatting it up with him, they clearly were friends. Everywhere people say, “Tchüss!” which sounds like of like, “cheers!”

Dresden is divided into two parts—the Allstadt (old City, south of the Elbe) and the Neustadt (new city, though not really much newere than the old city), north of the Elbe. The old city is mostly new because it was leveled in 1945, and has all the famous buildings (rebuilt of course) including the Frauenkirchen. It is quite remarkable that they are trying to rebuild the exact same buildings as they were years ago before the flood and/or bombings.

The moment I got here and checked into my hostel (which is just like someone’s home by the way, the coolest one I’ve ever inhabited), I walked down to the River.

I am here (among other reasons) because there was a major flood in 2002 that devastated the whole state and also places upstream like Prague. This was the impetus for Germany’s new flood policy.

This is a small monument dedicated to the flood in 2002. THe top of this wave (you cannot tell how high it is, but this is on top of a bridge, around 10.4meters above the Elbe River below) is to mark how high the hochwasser or water level was during the flood.

German flood policy now is protection for the 100-year or 1% annual chance flood like in the U.S. And the structure is such that the Federal Government lays a framework, but the individual Landers or States make their own laws, enforce them, and implement them. This is because as a result of some dark German history, there is a fear of giving the federal government too much power. So most of the laws and regulations are actually just guided by the feds but enforced by the states. This of course does have its down side.

I would have more city and flood-related photos for you but my camera battery died and the charger is broken so I can't take them off the card. Drat!

How Cliché!

On day 3, I officially became an international criminal. A friend even referred to me as James Bond, which I must admit, I quite like. I disclaim that I will give you a lot of build up, to a potentially disappointing story when I finally get to the point, but for now lets just enjoy this together J.

In desperate need of SOMETHING less urban, I escaped for the day to a region called Säschisse Sweiss. National Park (Pronounced: Zack-zee-shuh Svytze). Now try saying that five times fast. Or if you’re like me, try for one. Just one is difficult enough.

On Thursday at 11am, I had purchased a day-ticket for the tram. So on Friday at 8:30am, I rode the tram again with the same ticket making the assumption (I know we all know what happens when you assume), that a day-ticket actually meant 24 hours—you know, the length of a day?

After two stops, a German authority (but in sneaky citizens people clothes!) came on board, said something in German, and showed me her badge. Only me. And of course on Public Transit, no one has anything better to do (since the ipod-anit-social-craze hasn’t caught on in Germany yet) than to stare at you—esPECIALLY if you’re talking to authorities who have just showed you their badge.

But I feel fine and hand her my ticket, because I have done the correct thing, bought a “Day” ticket, good for 24 hours in my brain.

She shakes her head and says, “Nei!” (pronounced Nay.)

“Nei?” I repeat.

“Nei.” Fierce eyebrows.

“Sprechen-sie English?” I asked her if she spoke English.

“Nei.”

Nei? Okay so how do I explain this one to her.

Fortunately, there is a student sitting next to me on the tram who speaks English fluently and he offers to translate. Apparently my “day” ticket was not good for 24 hours, but actually only valid arbitrarily up until 4am the next morning.

At this point, my life became a walking cliché as she asks in her harsh German accent, for “your documents please…”

Really?

Ha!

My “documents”?

I wish I had fake ones, just to make this story better. But alas, I never cheat (except in an 8^th grade history exam), so I will never tell a good story.

She takes my passport for a while (as the crowd looks on) and I’m not entirely sure what she is doing. Normally I would argue, or at least plea for sympathy that I REALLY wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on the German government and I DID think that my ticket was still good. But the student didn’t feel like translating that for me. So instead, after a long hard look at the “documents” she handed my passport back. And thru the translation, I learned that normally I would be fined 40Euro, but since I was a foreigner and didn’t speak German, if I would pay her 20 Euro on the spot, I could be done with it all. (Aka, if I paid her hard cash, she could put it in her pocket and make no record that this event ever happened, but at least it would be 20 Euro instead of 40.)

So I complied.

Then, the sweet German-translator-boy-who-did-not-help-me-negotiate-a-cheaper-price-or-my-actual-honest-mistake gave me the three German kisses goodbye, and we went on our separate ways.

Or rather, he went to school and I went to Saxon Switzerland to get lost on the trails and curse German National Park System with 20 fewer Euros in my pocket.

Don't worry--if it looks like I'm holding onto that tree to keep from falling down the mountain, that's actually just because I'm holding onto that tree to keep from falling down the mountain.

See you in int'l prison--

Ludy.

Jess Ludy

something amiss...

2009-11-04T17:01:00.001+01:00

We'll play a game called, Where is Jess?

Clues.

banks, cheese, chocolate, army knives, watches, mountain dogs, chalets, miss, neutrality, and current holder of the America's Cup
(not to mention the most expensive country in the world)...

There will be actual photos and commentary to post in the near future, but alas I am busy with "research" today in Basel, so perhaps soon. Also soon (tomorrow) I'll be in Zurich to meet up with a couple of friends.

much love

to the resistors... (in bear's words)

2009-11-03T19:08:00.000+01:00

Last week, Bear was feeling all gezellig, so we decided that after so much travelling, we would take a night in with lebkuchen and hot schokoladen (bears love chocolate). He got very quiet , which is not entirely bjorn-like, and so I tried to ask him what was on his worried bear mind. But he didn’t want to talk. So instead, we fell asleep watching German-dubbed versions of Bay Watch (Germans love David Hasselhoff). And then I felt a tug on my hair.

Bear expressed something has been bothering him for a while now and he feels really confused about some of the things we’ve seen on our trip. “About the floods?” I asked. “No,” Bear replied. “About the deportations, the camps, the violations of rights, all of the memorials,” he began, “none of this seems very gezellig ,” he thought, and I agreed.

“Is this why you tried to jump off the train when we passed through France?”

“Partly,” he said. “(And that is the reason I shall move to Switzerland—the land of banks, knives, excellent watches, and neutrality!)” he thought.

Bear said he felt so helpless and so frustrated. And now what could he even do about it? I said he could share with his friends what he has seen, to keep the memories alive, to educate... just like is written on the memorial and statue to the unknown inmate of the Holocaust in Dachau Concentration Camp: “To honor the dead and to warn the living.”

That seemed like an alright idea to Bear, but “I’m no writer, I’m no historian, who am I to talk about it? I’m just a bear who is a bit homesick for the woods…”

I told him that was fine, that he doesn’t have to be a writer or historian, but just to share what he feels in a bear’s words.

Bear explained to me (he is quite shy and didn’t want to write directly) that he feels all that we have seen, the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, the Memorial to Murdered European Jews in Berlin, Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp outside of Berlin, and Dachau Concentration Camp just near Munich, are really personal and individual experiences and so he did not want to share about them. Anyone who reads about them or visits them should see them in their own way.

Fair enough.

Bear said he always had struggled with the German people during the 1930s and 40s and the rest of the world during WWII and the Holocaust—how could people and bears just stand by and let something like this happen. Yes, they knew it was going on. So didn’t they ever do anything? Didn’t anyone try to stop Hitler, the SS, the NAtionalsoZIalistische.

Bear does want to tell you something about which he knew very little prior to his trip to Europe—The Resistance.

Not everyone supported the Nazis.

Big resistance, small resistance, organized resistance, every day resistance…

These gold stones above mark a path down a sidestreet in Munich near Odeonsplatz. It was here (actually in the Hofbräuhaus) in Munich where Hitler staged a coup in 1923 intending to take over Germany (Prior to having been elected). The Coup was unsuccessful, and in the struggle, a couple of Nazi soldiers died and Hitler’s bodyguard was severely injured after throwing himself in front of a bullet aimed for Hitler. (Bear imagines how different history may have been if the bodyguard had not stepped in front).

In any event, after Hitler was elected and took office, this site became a memorial site to the fallen Nazi soldiers. There was a plaque on the wall and Nazi soldiers guarding the site. Any time a person or a bear walked passed the site, they were required to give the Nazi solute. Anyone who refused could be arrested and punished.

So, rather than give the Nazi solute, people began cutting over one street earlier, to get to the place they needed to go without having to pass the memorial and give the solute. Eventually the Nazis caught on to this, and they began counting the number of people and the number of times someone “avoided” walking past the memorial. If the number got large enough, the person would be arrested.

These gold stones mark and commemorate the alternate path taken by those every day resistors to the third reich.

Next, Bear wanted to mention to you, even if briefly, about the infamous “Anne Frank Huis” in Amsterdam. Most of you have read Anne Frank’s Diary in school and this is the house where she was hidden, her secret annexe and all. The wallpaper is the same, even the same magazine cutouts with movie starts are still on the wall. Anne celebrates her 80^th birthday this year and there are adoreable pictures of Anne up on the wall right at the entrance.

Bear appreciates the risk it took for this family to hide the Franks, given that they and others like them could have been arrested or killed on the spot when they were found out.

German Resistance Memorial Center

In Berlin there is an entire museum and memorial dedicated to the resistance movement against the Third Reich. Bear strongly suggests going there or at least reading a book on the resistors.

The museum is housed in the same building where Scharffenbarg and others, (the character played by Tom Cruise in the release Valkyrie) unsuccessfully staged a coup an assassination attempt on Hitler. And the courtyard out front is the same courtyard where Tom Cruise and the main other contributors were shot on site.

Lesser known, there were also 15 (documented) additional attempts of Hitler’s assassination throughout the times.

There was resistance within Sachsenhausen Camp by a group of Jewish inmates who thwarted the German plan to counterfeit the US Dollar and the British Pound in an attempt to wreck the Allies’ economies. If the “Counterfeiters” had not succeeded, it is possible the Germans would have followed through on their objectives and there may have been a very different outcome. (Bear suggests checking out the movie actually by the same name).

There were also organized resistance groups, college students, conscientious objectors, teenagers who distributed pamphlets about the atrocities, religious figures (though Catholic bishops had been forbidden to speak out against the German government), there were political opponents, there were revolts within camps, ghetto uprisings, there were (few) people who helped hide Jews, Roma and Sinti, political opponents and resistors, homosexuals, intellectuals, and anti-socials from deportation to concentration camps and they are all commemorated here in this museum. Bear didn’t know about all of these small movements, so just incase you didn’t either, he wanted to share them with you.

“So there was resistance...” Bear said, dropping his head.

We decided to go for a walk this night. Just down the street, Bear tripped over something and he looked down to see what it was.

“Stolpersteine,” replied our friend Josef.

Pronounced, “ schtoll-pa-scht-ine”

“Stolper” in English is “stumble” and “steine “ are “stones.” So quite literally, stolpersteine are stumbling blocks or stumble stones.

Stolpersteine are an art project by a man named Gunter Demnig who began the project in 1993.

The Stolpersteine are gold “stones” or blocks that replace regular stones in the sidewalks in front of houses, buildings, and apartments where all those previously lived who were deported and killed by the Nazis. These Stolpersteine are now all over Germany, parts of Austria, and the Netherlands.

The idea is that you may stumble upon them because they standout from the normal blocks and stones in the street. When you stumble upon them, it forces you to stop and ask a question. What do they mark? Who lived here?

Bear did some of his own research because he found this really interesting, but thinks he’d rather you do exploring of your own, so he found you the website all about the stones just by clicking HERE.

So, not to leave you hanging at all, but Bear decided that this is where he will leave you with his thoughts and sharing. There is so much more to say, of course, on a subject like this, and he doesn’t really know how to close. But Bears tend to be brief, and don’t feel like they can take on such a weighted topic. Maybe it is better for a conversation than a bear blog. Yea, definitely so…

Gutenacht.

(Just to clear for anyone who was concerned about the seriousness, Bear did not actually visit Dachau, Sachsenhausen, or the Annefrank Huis. We both have respect and tact of course.)

Bearlin, Germany (part zwei)

2009-11-02T18:29:00.000+01:00

A few notes from Bear Bjorn: (he knows he's 3 weeks behind but bears are slow with these sort of things)

Parisier Platz, Berlin

I saw this camera crew and couldn't resist walking back and forth behind the woman on the right who was being interviewed. Jess tried to convince me not to distract her because she could see the woman clearly noticed my good looks, but I refused, jumped out of Jess's backpack, and kept walking back and forth.

The goose was trying to give me lip, so I strangled it. This was in the Friedrichain area. Jess pulled me off and rehabilitated the goose in time.

We made it to the top of das Reichstag (to be read with harsh German accent) by 10pm at night. I don't buy that this just "burned down" either...

Me and Jess at the top of the Reichstag

I make these guys look good.

le petite pirate

2009-10-29T10:28:00.001+01:00

Bonjour! Right now I back in Germany and on the train to Dresden, but I am writing to talk about my 4 day excursion (still on the Rhine River) to Strasbourg, France.

In sum, it was… well… French. J

It was a breath of fresh air to be someplace where I could speak the language. I’m not entirely fluent, but for the most part was successful and managed quite well. Thank you Greenhills Highschool.

Strasbourg, France is in the Alsace region of France. It is a very interesting history because it has gone back and forth between German and French hands perhaps a hundred times over hundreds of years. It is right on the Rhine River and also on the border of Germany. It has its own language, called “Asacien” (go figure) but most people just speak French.

I stayed in a cute youth hostel, “L’auberge Jeunesse” just outside of town. Hostels have their attraction because they are inexpensive and you typically get to meet a lot of neet people and share rooms with people you might not otherwise have the opportunity to make a connection.

For example, I shared a room with a sweet Hungarian girl who worked for the European Parliament (must be hard times for the EU if they could only afford to put her up in a youth hostel) an Australian girl, who was backpacking for a total of 8 months, and four tidy quiet, beret-wearing-baguette-eating-cigarette-smoking French cockroaches. No, I am not calling the French “cockroaches.”

I am describing the character and nationality of the cockroaches who shared my dorm room. Personally, I think I should have gotten a discount since I paid to share a room only two other inhabitants,, but all together avec mes petites cockroaches, we made 7.

My second night there when 192 teenagers checked into the hostel, I knew I was in for a great time. J

And I digress…

Strasbourg is an adorable town with (big surprise here) a beautiful Cathedral that lies in the center and is one of the main attractions. Only one spire on this church, however. After the Cathedral in Cologne, I decided I was a 2-spire kind of girl, so didn’t waste my time going in OR climbing the stairs. J I did however enjoy coffee and pizza, people watching, bird-poo avoiding, and speaking French to waiters…all while looking at the cathedral.

I also took a boat ride on the canals (the town is lined with canals) on a beautiful sunny day. I was pretty sure the boat ride was meant for all tourists, but it was actually a boatful of Germans and me.

By this point, I speak enough German to ask for things like food coffee and beer, to recognize that someone is in fact speaking German, to talk with my hands (wait—that’s Italian), to LAUGH (even though most German strangers I pass do not laugh, nor do they think it is funny when I do so--- ) and I know how to say, “No old man, these are MY headphones in ENGLISH. YOUR headphones go in HERE and are in GERMAN.”

My favorite part of the boat ride was when we passed the torture towers. (that sounds strange, but wait).

This was where, you guessed it you smarty-pants you, they tortured people back in the old days. What I found particularly funny in the recording (perhaps something is lost in translation or the French are maybe just blunt?) is that when the previous Torturer was caught doing something illegal (I don’t remember the crime), his punishment would be first to have his tongue cut out and then decapitation. But, in a very cheerful voice, the tour guide said, “thanks to many years of good service, the judge took pity and fortunately allowed him decapitation without cutting out his tongue.”

Should I have clapped here? I was the only one who laughed (out loud).

RESEARCH...

I mostly wandered about the town but since I actually was here on research, I met up with a friend who lives here, Mathieu, who I actually met in Southern France this past summer doing river-research. This is a particularly interesting area because effective flood defence/management depends on what happens on BOTH sides of the river. One side is Germany, the other is France, both of whom have different policies, regulations, and interests.

In short, went to see some “cool stuff” on the Rhine. Well cool stuff for me, like dikes, poulders, dams, and BANK EROSION (oooh….ahhhhh….)

Laugh if you like, but I know my water friends are appreciating this right now!

(on the left side, Das ist Germany, Right side c'est la France)

Though unrelated, check out this BUNKER!!! (its on the right , the cement block)

From the WAR!!!!

But it is right alongside the Rhine. I gotta think that during heavy rains the average bunker-hiding Frenchie is hedging his (or her)bets on which is safer… dodging bullets from the Germans across the river, or… the rising Rhine River itself. Check out the awesome sign. See, EVEN IN GOOD WEATHER floods can happen people!

I also had the unexpected opportunity (these are the best kind) to go out and visit a 1626 Hops Farm because Mathieu’s friend Stephanie grew up on it. They still have the original house and all the buildings intact which is beautiful and it has been in their family for generations (Since it was built I believe). Anyway, we got to see the hops farm and get a tour in French (which I mostly understood) how they grew the hops, processed them, and then distributed them. Her family distributes hops to Heinekin, Budwieser, and others.

(These are what the hops vines grow up to).

Mostly exports but they do sell hops to one local brew as well called Meteor. To close the tour, we of course enjoyed a meteor in the back yard.

Check this out—I didn’t take a picture of it, but it is behind the door (because I didn’t want to be offensive), but this cross has the head cut off because during the French revolution, the armies came to destroy all Christian paraphernalia! They never gave jesus a new head. I find that funny. J

Afterwards, we went into Mathieu's house. He has a pet squirrel. This is amazing. I apologize that the video is sideways I can't figure out how to change it, but check out the most hyperactive squirrel you have ever seen in your life.

Anyway, post farm tour, we all went out into town to enjoy some traditional Alsacien (regional) cuisine.

One traditional dish I enjoyed (other than the pretzels, coffee, and delicious bread!) is called Tarte Flambée .

“Tarte Flambée” (pronounced, tart flambay) is French for, “flaming heart-attack-on-a-plank.” It is like a thin crust pizza (only a little softer but not like a tortilla shell) minus the sauce, and then add on onions and lots of different kind of creamy cheeses. If you eat meat, then you also usually get it with a type of ham. It was delicious. They serve it to you on a plank and you pay once but they keep coming and coming with more flaming tartes. I could only eat about 1.5 of them but I would have loved to have more.

Another dish which we all cooked is called: “ knopfle. “ It is pronounced like ka-no-p-fluh , only frenchier. This is kind of like noodles? You make the batter and then drop scoops of it into boiling water and as the globs rise to the surface you take them out of the pot. Then you sautée them with garlic and cream and cheese. Delicious. And ham of course if you like that sort of thing.

I had a fantastic time with Mathieu and his friends. Truly, everyone I have encountered on this trip has been so generous and that has made my experience even better. After just 4 brief days there, I hopped a train back to Germany where I spent the next 4 days in Munich but I will save that for another post.

Other traditional foods are really just torture methods... I mean check this out. On EVERY CORNER...How does someone not gain like 500lbs (I'm sorry, I mean 200 kilos), while living here?

Oh, and I took a picture of a little french pirate dressed up for--I don't know what. But I had no choice. It's not often you see this sort of thing.I did it on the sly so that I didn't look like a stalker, but now I kind of feel like hiding myself while taking pictures might officially give me stalker-status. crap.

Oh, plus, while waiting for the tram, I met these guys.

After they tried to “scare” me and failed miserably, we chatted and they let me take their picture. I would like to add however, in the spirit of things, and in the spirit of OUR season, that this is somewhat out of place. Because

1) it was October 20, not 31… and also,

2) FRANCE DOES NOT CELEBRATE HALLOWEEN! WHERE WERE THESE PEOPLE GOING???!

That is all for the short stay in Strasbourg.

Closing thoughts?

-I am quite well…

-I am eating quite well (maybe too well)

-I am meeting a lot of really nice people

-I love trains

-I am safe

-No, I did not tell the French any of my French Military jokes

-European soccer fans take the prize for enthusiasm over American sports fans any day (I say this as a die-hard Michigan football fan)

-Some guy who looks like Larry Bird just sat down across from me

I happened upon it...the most famous Berliner of them all

2009-10-21T11:34:00.001+02:00

So did you know that in all parts of Germany, what we call doughnuts are called Berliners? Well except for Berlin. I don't know what they're called in Berlin. Go figure Germany!

This post is a tad behind, since I am currently in Strasbourg and have even been to Darmstadt and Frankfurt since Berlin but I figure I ought to share a couple of things from that part anyhow...

Read on for a truly classic: "Jess Moment"

The Cold...
In Berlin I officially had to succumb to wearing close-toed shoes for the first time (except my wintery trips home to the midwest for the holidays) since working at Northwest Youth Corps. After being forced in 8"Leather Work Boots in the rain for 8 years, I embarked on what I call my FLF (Foot liberation front) whereby upon every day in California, I wore my open-toed shoes. Yes, even in the rain, even in 10 degrees Celcius (I'm in Europe, therefore I think in european, okay? I speak differently, think in meters, don't really tip on food service, I drink tons of coffee, eat pastries, say things like, "ciao!" "tchüss," eat mayonnaise with french fries, and smoke cigarettes...ha ha. only kidding on the cigarettes!)

And I digress...But the point of that story is to tell you just how cold it is. Needless to say, among my purchases (many coffees, falafels, and post cards) were a warm hat and another pair of mittens.

Berlin is a fascinating city and it is so cool to be walking through a major part of world history--most of which has been recently built after it was leveled in WWII.

(Brandenburger Tur--this was the former city gate... it was one of the few structures that survived WWII...it became closed from E-W Germans in 1961 as part of the death strip and the Berlin Wall)

I checked in on a Saturday night and wandered around as long as I could take it in the cold wind and rain. I went for a jog (in the cold) in the Tiergarten which is a huge park right in Mitte, the central part of the city, where I was staying.

Mauer Park... the "surprise"
The next day, however, I decided to take a walk to check out a flee market (Flohmarkt) I had read was cool. I came upon Mauer Park which was bustling with people and hipsters (they get their own category) from all walks of life and all countries. There were young, old, big, small, girls boys, shopping, drinking in the beergarden, playing music, graffiti artists, spinning records, and sporting the latest fashion Europe has to offer (see below).

(fyi, though they look small these girls are actually at least 20)
There was also an awesome (you can decide exactly how I am using this word) American playing old jazz and blues covers keyboard (and some others without category) who seemed to have a great following in the park. No one knew what he was saying in between but he was (successfully) trying to rally people up to his slightly-off-tune-quasi-energetic-airport-lounge-singer kinda way. It was great. Check video below. You may recognize this song as original by Huey Piano Smith: Don't ya just know it.

So, I sat down and listened for a while with my Pommes with mayonnaise (mmmm....), and tried to order a beer in German which they told me was only a summer beer, so snided me for thinking I could order it NOW... Well--why was it even on the menu then? jerks.

The music was entertaining to say the least and then I thought I'd go for a walk in the park after perusing all that was for sale at the flea market... I am pretty sure you could find anything:
socks, clothes, old records, suitcases, vacuum cleaners, chandeliers, books, brass fittings, ties, old suits, AND... I am pretty sure I saw someone walking away with THE lamp from "A Christmas Story." Yes, you know the one I'm talking about...

But in any event... If you know me at all, you know I can only shop for so long. So I decided I would go explore and check out some grafiti artists at work that I had passed on my way in.

If I give you the hint that this is about to be a Homer Simpson moment, (doh!) then you can tell where this story is going.

So I walk back toward the entrance and start checking out some remarkable grafitti.

I walk down and see a little more.

Then I began to notice how far this wall extended... (here it comes...)

Wait a minute...
can it be?
What is this really long wall, separated by a lot of space, and behind it aNOTHER really long wall?
I'm in BERLIN... (scratch the forehead).

DOH!
This is the Berlin Wall my friends.

Incidentally, "MAUER" is German for "Wall"...

But I'd like to think that though I didn't make the connection early on, It was rather fun to come upon it by chance, rather than look at my tourist map to go find the wall.

So the remainder of the evening until dark, I followed the wall thru Berlin (there was a path marked on my map that I hadn't realized was the wall) of which 165km of the original "iron curtain" still exist.

I ended up at the future memorial site as well as the documentation center which was fascinating and sad to read.

At this base of this building is the wall (the red panels are the memorial with information in all languages). See how close. This building may have been reconstructed. They had to demolish the buildings right along side the wall because people in "east" germany would jump out of their buildings to get across the wall into west germany. They demolished churches, etc. And then there was another wall maybe 10 meters past that runs parallel. The space in between is known as the death strip. Anyone seen in it would be shot immediately. (see below)

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed your journey... and now to end on a slightly more positive note, throughout our remaining days in Berlin, my traveling companion and I stumbled upon a few more sections of the Berlin Wall, the previous divider of Eastern and Western Germany (and some may say the world)...and wanted to leave you with this.

Note the expressions on the passersby. But we did manage to get a LOT of Germans to smile in the process...(a difficult task I notice with strangers)

Bear misses his gezellig

Ascending. 6 October, 2009

2009-10-16T13:12:00.000+02:00

Another rainy day in Koln and as a warning: this post is only likely interesting to people like my mom any teachers out there, and my italian-catholic family who may oooh-and-ahh over the pretty churches.

Around 10am I met my rent-a-friend at the university (okay she was really one of Josef’s graduate students) and the two of us headed into town for coffee and to visit the Köln Dom or Cathedral which is a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage site. It is a Gothic Cathedral. I would actually care what that meant if I could remember anything from Grade 5 Art History and Architecture.

The cathedral is visible as you come in on the train, plane, and yes, automobile. So there are strict building restrictions on anything that would alter the skyline.

A couple interesting things about this cathedral: It took around 600 years to finish, stopped for 300 years in the middle, and then after being finishing in the late 1800s, was bombed shortly thereafter during WWII. You can see that parts of the Cathedral are black and that is the effect of acid rain on the sandstone.

The Cathedral is still (and always) undergoing restoration and it has been repaired enough so that you can not only go inside the church, but one fantastic part of this you can ascend into one of the two spires. Once I learned this was possible, I decided we would climb all 532 stairs.

I think Kristina was both 1) surprised and 2) not pleased that I wanted to do this. So I bought her a coffee and paid her 1 euro entry fee (something like a bribe) after dragging her all the way up there as the least I could do. It was a pretty remarkable view of the Rhine and the city. And yes there ARE pictures of me smiling from the top of it. Just not on this post. :)

After descending the stair, we crossed the Rhine to head to a different part of the city. Hark the view from the middle of this bridge... look at the shrine down on the waterfront:
the king lives!

(click on the photo to get a larger view)

Bearlin, Germany

2009-10-14T20:21:00.001+02:00

In his own words, it happened just like this...

on a typical day, just walking through the park

when I came upon this punk

you talkin to me? you talking to me?

are YOU TALKING TO ME?!!!

the attack.

the getaway

Riots, Diplomacy, and Waffles...oh my!

2009-10-10T22:11:00.000+02:00

The following post is abridged in order to spare my family the concern of a slightly scandalous—while at the same time professional and diplomatic—visit to Brussels, Belgium. For my diehard readers, the complete and unabridged version will post on my alternative underground blog at “whatjessisreallydoing.blogspot.com”. Careful-- you need to knock three times and answer the encrypted password to enter

Now if you clicked on that link, please go to the comment box at the bottom of this blog and type in, “I”… you must publicly admit that you took me seriously.

You may have noticed that Brussels was not on the original itinerary, but I made a quick 60-hour stop to that waffle-eating city to stop into the European Commission (they do research, make recommendations, and write regulations for the European Union Parliament ) to discuss the new European Flood Directive with the parties in charge.

here’s the inside … it’s a really neat building.

I realize that there are no pictures of me at the EC, but I swear I was legitimately there. And spoke with real people.

I thought perhaps the experience would have been to fancy for me, but alas. Not at all. I did wear close-toed shoes though for anyone who was wondering (and this MUST mean it is a dressy occasion).

And good coffee and croissants too! I may hold off on posting my findings from these meetings until a later date but rest assured, they were very informative.

I had the opportunity to connect with two commissioners, one I had met last year in a class on European Water Policy, and the other is in charge of Europe’s new Flood Policy. Bear stayed at home during my meetings because I could not find him a suit. He is still a bit angry.

now on to other things...

One key event shall mark Brussels in my memory forever.

But first, the setting…
The Grand Place, or Grote Maarkt (the two official languages in Belgium are Dutch and French). This plaza is site of the former Breadmakers guild, currently a museum, and a number of other likely important things. I did not have a travel book for this place and I have forgotten what everything is. When I arrived on Tuesday night, someone took me to the Grote Maarkt (I’ll go with Dutch because I like it better than French) and as it was all lit up.

I had to stop to catch my breath. It was beautiful.

It's too big to actually capture all in one photo... but you are surrounded by these kind of buildings. Also a UNESCO World Heritage Site (my trip seems to be filled with them.. who knew Flooding was so Heritage-like?)

I am slightly glad I did not have my camera at this first glance because I may not have been able to take it all in that moment. I returned to this place every day for a sandwich, a beer (so many good Belgian beers here!), to walk around, to people watch, and to riot.

Thursday afternoon post EU-meeting, I took to wandering Brussels solo and ended up at a café in the Grote Maarkt to sit down, write some postcards, and have a drink. (*note these post cards met their fate in a brussels taxi along with all my notes, so if by the end of this trip you do not receive a post card from me, you can blame the Taxi-driver's lack of good nature).

There were a number of Dutch football (European, therefore I mean soccer) fans in the plaza because the European League had a game in Brussels against Anderlecht in Brussels that evening and Ajax Amsterdam was playing. When I sat down, the waiter approached me and laughed, saying I was quite “brave”. I chuckled in return, over-confidently, because little did he know, I grew up tailgating at the Big House (that’s Michigan Football for all of you non-sports lovers) and with three brothers. But I did look around and notice I was one of only 3 women in the entire place.

I began to notice why the server had approached me.

I sat uninterrupted for a good while until a man (drunk) across the way from me began to yell things to me. It was in Dutch however, so I said I didn’t speak it. Given the use of his hand gestures, I’m assuming he wasn’t serenading me with Shakespeare. After I asked him for “English please,” the words he chose were quite… exquisite—so much so that I shall not repeat them here. J At this moment, I regretted not having asked my Dutch friends how to use Dutch bad words such that I might have defended myself at this point. But, being the creative girl that I am, I resorted at long last to use of the good ole’ American middle finger and carried on for a while longer with no interruptions. The British men next to me expressed they were impressed.

… A very friendly and hilarious American couple sat down next to me and we struck up a conversation as they were from the Midwest too and also have it in their personality to become best friends with someone they just met...they took this picture of me

Perhaps 15-20 minutes later, the number of football fans around the square multiplied (hundreds now) as did their blood alcohol level and the number of police in the square. This made me curious. Hundreds of soccer fans then proceeded to sing the songs of Amsterdam’s football team so it echoed throughout the plaza. It actually sounded really cool! Listen in here.

Things carried on in this fashion for quite sometime and then the fans began to move parts of the bar (like trays and glasses) INTO the plaza to play soccer with them. The trays were entertaining (see clip) however, much to their surprise, glasses don’t bounce the way soccer balls do!

So began the scene. I sat completely amused. I think it DEFINITELY beats out the car fires students set at Flordia-Florida State football games or in Columbus where Buckeyes fans (boooooo!) get out of hand.

Not long after, the riot police showed up with helmets, shields, clubs, you name it. Supposedly tear-gas but we didn’t actually see it.

We moved just inside the café to observe (but not until I got video footage of course) until it all settled down. It didn’t take long as there were really only a couple of obnoxious fans, but the police came mostly to make a presence and a point.

Then the police were lined up on each side of the square looking very official and we had decided to start moving out. However, not before my Polly and David (the couple from Milwaukee) encouraged me to take my picture with the police. Or rather, I said I really wished I could take my picture with them, and they assured me my dreams could come true. I love meeting people willing to indulge me in my fantasies.

Here is me on one side, (yes, I’m laughing)

But… we were convinced we could get closer.

So, as briefly as my trip to Brussels began, so shall it end. I’ll leave you with this image which will forever represent Brussels to me, far more than could any waffle, beer, or piece of chocolate. And for the record, could you have been there with us, arranging the shot was equally as entertaining as the photo itself.

Reunification and the Middle Rhine

2009-10-05T14:53:00.000+02:00

On Friday I arrived by train to Cologne (Köln), Germany where I will be for this next week. The kind/suave ticket agent in Brussels sold me my ticket at a discounted rate and even was so sweet/sleezy as to ask me to marry him. After reflecting on our relationship thus far (15 seconds long), I decided on a “maybe” for the answer… and I asked him how his wife might feel about such things in reference to the ring he wore.

He then mumbled something I did not understand and proceeded to let me know when he would be working again, “just incase” I wanted to come back to the train station. No thanks Sir Brussels, I’m out of here.

I welcomed the high speed train trip as the first time (it felt) that I was just able to sit, observe, and do nothing else. Josef met me at the train station in Cologne and I am staying with him for the week. Josef is a Geography professor here at the University and he is a good friend of my advisor at Cal (which is how I met him). He is incredibly nice and giving, a wealth of historical and current information (it is handy to spend time in Germany with a geographer), my own personal tour guide, and based on his laughing, he apparently thinks I’m funny. So alas, we shall get along quite well this week.

October 3^rd was the German National Holiday celebrating the reunification of the East and West. Most things close this day, so Josef and I decided to take a drive down the part of the Rhine River called MittelRhein (or Middle Rhine). This particular section is notable for its beauty and it too is one of the UNESCO World Heritage sites. Pictures below.

We first stopped at Deutsches Eck (German Corner) at the confluence of the Mosel and Rhein Rivers (Mosel on the left and Rhein on the right) in Koblenz.

There is a HUGE statue here (Bear posed for you below) recognizing Kaiser Wilhelm I and respresenting German unity. I mostly nod and smile during these parts of our discussions where I hear about the various Germanic tribes, oh all of the wars, the French, etc etc, to disguise that I feel like a schmuck for opting out of “Modern European History” as a 10^th grader. Hopefully he will not catch on…but I have thus blown my cover with you all.

Then we proceeded further down the river where it narrows and there are only small towns, cliffs, vineyards, and castles.

We went into one of the medi-eval towns named Oberwasel for a walk on the original city walls and stroll through the town. That is the medieval wall on which I'm standing, and the Rhine (Rhein) on my right).

There is a German tradition here that happens every day around 2 or 3pm called Kaffedrinken (coffee drinking)… it is where Germans are “required” to stop what they are doing and have coffee and cake. Being as I didn’t want to blow my cover and reveal that I am a non-German (I swear I’m convincing), I agreed (sigh) to have a piece of chocolate sachre torte and a coffee.

And so begins the rough life I will lead in this country. On to the research.

4. Oktober 2009 21k O’er the Rheinland…

2009-10-05T12:04:00.001+02:00

Germans sure know how to put on a marathon! Yesterday I ran the Cologne (Koln in German) ½ Marathon. So that is 13.1 miles, or what actually sounds way cooler, 21 Kilometers.

There were 14,600 participants just in the HalbMarathon (half marathon) and another 15,000 in the Marathon. I don’t’ know how many skated the “inline skating” or the hand-powered cycle marathon, the city accommodated the event really well and was super high-energy.

It was raining when we started (and finished) but the announcer and 14,600 of my new best friends were really positive and energetic before the race, singing all in unison to what were local Köln Carnival songs.

I just clapped along and threw my hands up when everyone else did. It made me realize how vulnerable I was to making a complete fool of myself given I could understand nothing and would pretty much do anything the guy next to me was doing.

But eat your heart out, Germany, because I was the ONLY one who knew all the words to “Eye of the tiger” when they played it—10 times before the start. Bless my friend Josef’s heart… he took me to the race, watched the start, and stuck around the entire time.

I won’t take you through the whole race with me, but it was a neat course and a great way to see the city. I stalked a German guy who ran about my pace, and he finally noticed me (still there) after about 8km. The distance between us slowly began to increase at this point with him taking the lead—I’d like to think this was a pure coincidence.

Also, at water stops, I wasn't always paying attention-- so I'd drink part of my water and then throw it on the sideline before emptying it... without looking and on accident showered my leftovers onto the poor spectators who got the major splash back. I just looked at them, smiled like... "oops??" and picked up the pace a little of course.

Incidentally there are no pictures of me actually running because Josef said that whenever I ran by, I was "too fast." :)

We started AND finished by crossing over the Rhine River on the Deutzer Brücke (Deutzer Bridge) and ran around the enormous and beautiful gothic Cathedral (Cologne is famous for this cathedral and it is a UNESCO world heritage site). There were many people out watching for the entire course and many participants in costume also.

check this guy out.

HIGHLIGHTS (I have divided this picture documentary up into categories for your easier understanding of my experience): AWESOME and NOT Awesome.

AWESOME: I ran my fastest ½ Marathon ever! I beat my SF ½ Marathon time in July by 13 minutes and set a new personal best ever by 7 minutes.

NOT Awesome: I got beat by this guy who ran the entire race wearing this thing.

NOT awesome: They made us walk an additional 2 km post-race to return the stupid electronic chip on our shoes (your credit card got charged if you didn’t return it)

AWESOME: At the finish, line, they had the best post-race giveaways ever. Normally you get like an egg burrito, some gross energy drinks, bananas and fruit chews, but in Köln, they took it to a new level:

Apples & Bananas

Candy bars taken out of the wrapper and handed to me so I didn’t have to do it!

Granola bars

Fruit snacks

Homemade German donuts (mmm…donuts)

Apple Juice

Hot and cold Tea

Bakery bread and special butter with nuts in it (already buttered for us)

Red Bull

Coke

And last but not least…

What German event would be complete without--you guessed it--

Beer and Sausages.

*Don’t worry, I ate the apples, bananas, candy bar, bread and butter, donuts, and tea all BEFORE I drank my beer.

Some of you may think this is AWESOME (new category, I know):

I broke 11 years of vegetarianism with a piece of sausage at the finish line.

Last thoughts on the race....

This was a great way to start out my time in Germany, I’m definitely excited to be here.

Incidentally, there was no water at the finish line.

And I was disappointed in the sausage.

A note to my loyal followers...

2009-10-05T11:38:00.000+02:00

Dear readers. First off, if you cannot tell based on the fact that I have just addressed you, this will be the first (of a possible series of) interactive blog post (s).

I might ask a question which you get to answer. I don’t really care what you answer, nor does you saying it out loud from all the way over there affect me even slightly. But it gives you the feeling that I’m listening. Which perhaps I am.

I wonder, do you care that you don’t hear from me for a week, and then you get a post that is a few days old… or 3 at the same time, so in fact you are reading about Amsterdam when I am actually 2 countries past the Netherlands? Sometimes I feel like thoughts and stories I have are too good (for me at least) not to share… or maybe sharing with you helps me process, or feel less homesick (so does bumping into fellow midwesterners)

but other times I think, maybe I should just stick to the point… where am I now, what am I doing, and where am I going next.

But then I think…nahhhh, when have I ever stuck to the point (except in presenting my thesis), so why start now? And you always have the option to move onto the next post. Or just the pictures or something. So anyway… I digress. But the following couple of posts are out of date as I currently find myself in Köln, Germany…

by the way, this is me and Obama (clearly) in the Museumplein in Amsterdam. Part of the "elephant parade" fundraiser in Amsterdam for Asian Elephants.

This is bear trying to steal a bike on his last day in Amsterdam. Shame on you bear. This is why they tell you that you need 2 locks on bikes in the Netherlands.

Cheers!

Keeping Out the Sea: Massive Flood defense in the low-lands…

2009-09-26T14:33:00.002+02:00

I am embarrassed I made that title so Berkeley-esque… The Powerful Statement: Made More Dramatic by the Colon and Following 6 Words...
all those guilty of such things, you know who you are. I almost want to slap myself for it, but figured this is one of those occurrences I must make known in a public cry for help.

To make a long story short, much of Holland is below sea-level (in-case you haven't gathered that is why I am here) and a lot of the parts not below sea-level are still subject to flooding from rivers. Therefore, flood defences are a very strong national interest (unlike the United States for many reasons).

Here are mostly photos from the field trip I took out to see the barriers over a couple of days in Zeeland and elsewhere of the Deltawerken, the Delta Works Projects. I will avoid going into too much detail (if you want it, email me or wait for my report) so I’ll just show the pics and include a few basics. Delta” refers to the Delta of the Rhine-Meuse (Maas)-Scheldte rivers. For more details online, check out http://www.deltawerken.com/

MESLANTKERING in Hoek van Holland.

The suffix “kering” means “barrier” in Dutch. It… was… huge… (you will notice a theme). Sadly the photo doesn’t do it justice, but here is Matthijs in front of it to give you kind of an idea. And no, I didn't fly my heli-overhead to get the shot, I borrowed it from online.

(I did take this one though)

This gate is open now, but closes off the harbor (haven in Dutch) to the sea when there is a storm surge, (when the water level rises up very high as a result of a storm/heavy winds) or when they decide to test it (this Saturday) in order to make sure it will work when it counts (as in, during a surge).
Apparently they used a crappy grade steel when initially constructing it which means they have more maintenance than they would like. Costly, but they will still do it due to safety.

Here is a video of the barrier with awesome dramatic music to accompany.

Matthijs (pronounced: Ma-tie-us/Mathias) is a kind, kind, and really smart man. I was put in touch with him by one of my professors from UC-Berkeley. He is a risk-management consultant/”expert” for the country and a part time professor at the Technical University in Delft. He spent time with me all day driving me around the area looking at flood-defence sights and showing me the massive amounts of greenhouses in this part of the country (which I accidentally deleted the photos).

They use so many greenhouses to extend the growing season (it’s cold here!) and export. From what I could tell it was mostly tomatoes and peppers. Interestingly enough, there are enough greenhouses in this area that the rainwater from the roofs actually is an issue for drainage and flooding.

I told Matthijs that if I can’t find a job in the US, I’ll be back to competing with the Polish migrants for the greenhouse jobs. He apparently thought that was funny. I ended up with free dinner Tuesday night, so my humor must be getting me some points (or pity).

I learned a ton and we had great discussions on flood policy approaches in the Netherlands and the US. Incidentally, he does not understand us and our flood policy—why we wont’ step it up when we know things aren’t right. Go figure, neither do I.

Haringvliet Sluices
Near the Haringvliet estuary, these are sluices which have a long arm extending down, to provide a barrier to the North Sea during flood conditions, a storm surge, and twice a day during high tide. This barrier works to control the river and water levels in a large part of the country. On one side of the barrier is the North Sea and on the other side are the Rhine and Maas Rivers.

Construction period from 1956-1971

It was pretty cool and they take you on a tour of it after watching a video on construction (all in Dutch), you can even go inside.

Bear thought he looked rather regal in the wind, so here.

And me. Behind me those long arms (like something out of Starwars) lower down with the barrier attached at the ends to block out the Sea twice per day during high tide. This helps to keep the salty seawater out of the country. It takes 20 minutes for lifting or closing each time.

The gates are 10.5 meters high. so about 5 meters protrude above the normal water level.

Oosterscheldekering (Oh-sta-schkell-da-kerin)

Ooster means “eastern” and Schelde refers to the Scheldt River. So it is the Eastern Scheldte River barrier. Also massive. The process of construction is as unbelievable as its size. Once again, scale… enormous. You kind of just have to be there.

See below… fyi, you can drive across it. You can also go inside of it. Bear and I had a blast and informative time. Some photos below.

This is out of my windshield so there is a glare. The Scheldte River is to the left, the North Sea (Noord Zee) is to the right.

These levees/dikes are so much bigger (and stronger) than the ones in the US. I tried to get a photo of Bear on the levees for scale, but with no success!

Some might argue that Bear is actually looking at the D>50 (grainsize) on the levee. You have to be a hydrologist to appreciate that terrible joke (thanks KP).

Now, to feel as though YOU were there with us, please picture me, dying laughing, as I’m propping up bear and scooping him up off the levee. And others walking by, not sure whether to laugh with me, or just keep walking and not make eye contact.

I felt the need to get Bear’s pathetic attempts on film after 5 minutes of trying to keep him upright, so much to his chagrin, here is bear’s first video in Europe. I told him I wouldn’t post it to my blog, but I lied.

Fishermen at the edge of the barrier. This is the North Sea on the left, and the river draining through is the Scheldte.

From Where is all this water coming from?

The construction of this barrier was incredible. They built 3 islands/land masses and then connected them by this giant barrier/dam. I think an aerial photograph would best explain it.

Blue is water, green is land.

The two large landmasses were reclaimed long ago. But the two in the middle were the new ones, built specifically for the construction of this barrier. The 3 straight segments are the dams/ the Oosterschedldekering.

Interestingly enough, they had initially built a ring completely around the area where they wanted to build the barrier. The blocked it with dikes and drained it out, so they were on "dry land." They then did much of the construction (including fortifying the sandy Sea bottom with mattresses of rocks, stones, gravel, and boulders), installed the piers, breached the levee and flooded it when it was ready to go. Pretty incredible.

All of this land has been "reclaimed" from the sea. This process of reclaiming land from the is not unlike parts of New Orleans or the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta in California, though it is a much grander scale here in Holland.

DUNES/DUINS:

Dunes are a major part of the flood defence system here. The dunes here are sometimes 3 km wide and the Dutch dredge sand from way off shore and bring it in onshore to compensate beach erosion. In many cases, these dunes offer a protection level of a 1 in 100,000 storm! That is 1000x greater than the protection level of the United States. To clear that up, these dunes are so big that a storm/surge only has a 1 in 100,000 chance every year at reaching the Netherlands. See photos below. I took this shot at the western/southern most end of the Oosterscheldekering

The Oosterscheldekering is also a national park and had a sweet water-park including: how the barriers were built, boat rides in the area, an exhibit on the 1953 flood (the catastrophic event which changed flood policy forever… though strikingly fewer died in this flood (1835) than in Katrina (around 2000), yet it has such importance in forming policy and perception in Holland.

Lastly, after the visit at the museums, I drove the rest of the way across the Oosterscheldekering, got off the main road, parked my car and sat on the beach next to this barrier for quite some time. I even put my feet in the North Sea. I was told this was cold water, but growing up on the Great Lakes, I really could not agree. J

What a great couple of days. I realize this is vague and seemingly incomplete, but I will save discussions for another time, or perhaps the presentation following this research. Thus, you have seen mostly just what I have seen. But rest assured, Mrs. Geraldine Knight and CED who funded this fellowship, I am taking good notes, asking lots of questions, and will not disappoint.

I'll leave it at that. I have many more pictures but there is no room left on the blog. So email me if you're interested!

Cheers!
Oh, and it's Saturday, so ....

GO BLUE!!!

friendly frogs and rental cars

2009-09-26T12:44:00.000+02:00

This post is from Last week in Delft... my apologies for the delay... so much to tell, so little attention span.

Just before I sat down to write this, I had gotten back from the centre of town (it is about 10:30pm right now) and headed up to bed, when something scurried across the floor—for a moment I got heebie jeebies that it might be a mouse, though this place is super clean I really couldn’t imagine it… when said creature froze in the middle of the floor I saw it was a toad!

So, I tried various approaches to get it out because lord only knows how dutch treat toads—I wanted to protect it from some unspeakable fate… :) only joking

My approach?

1) plastic cups convinced it only further under the table and behind the cords…

2) Toad was indifferent to my banging on the table…

3) my opening the door and making smoochie sounds didn’t work, so

4) I encouraged it verbally out the door. Also failed.

Conclusion??

Dutch frogs do not speak English.

The tiniest (and greatest) car ever...

Despite that the rental car place needed something with my address on it in order to rent to me (my address is currently is a storage unit in Berkeley thus I did not have it), I managed to sweet talk/laugh my way into just giving the gentleman every card in my wallet to make an imprint of. He in turn gave me keys to this sweet blue Ford, DIESEL. J

(Btw, if Ford would like to buy this photo from me, as the automakers of our renewable future... comment to my blog and we'll work out an agreement.)

Anyway...

The gentlemen in the shop tried to give me the only pink car in the station but I had thoughts otherwise.

In tribute to the late and sexy Patrick Swayze, NOBODY puts Baby in the corner and NOBODY gives Jessie keys to a pink car.

The only time I got lost today was in trying to get out of Delft. Despite my new “TomTom” (explanation coming), I could not find my way out of said Medieval city (they knew what they were doing to enemies even then hundreds of years ago!) because so many roads were blocked or under construction. So I did laps, and made turns on roads which I could NOT believe were roads (they were small), but alas, my 3-foot wide car sure enough fit down them and I pretty much decided my route based on facial expressions from people I passed. I got no frowns, no swears, horns, or middle fingers, so I think I done right. J

TOM TOM!!!!

TomToms are the greatest GPS we never had. First of all, they are CORRECT and they have graphics of all the turns you are going to make including what signs look like on the highway. They also give you directions 2 ahead of time. For example, “in 800 yards make a left, then stay in the left lane, go 400 yards and make another left!” This was amazing and far surpasses any US GPS unit I have ever found.
OH TomTom, won’t you come back with me to the US and marry me?

Here are a couple more photos from my great rental car day... This is blue car in front of the levee. The people are on top of the levee for scale.

And lastly, (yes I took this while driving), the landscape patterns of canals and agriculture...

Highlights from this trip:

photos to come in a future post... the massive scale of the flood defences, the geometric patterns of the landscape (canals, agriculture), dunes, standing in the North Sea...

Windmolen, vriend, beer

2009-09-19T17:56:00.000+02:00

This IS the Kinderdijk. (pronounced Kinder – dike) It is a world Heritage site. Click to read more.

(by the way if you click any of my photos, they load larger in a new window)

Quintessential Dutch Stereotype.

The Kinderdijk is an area outside of Delft, where windmills dominate the landscape. As I may have mentioned before, much of Holland is below sea-level and most of it is depends upon an intricately controlled system of canals, levees, and dikes. In this area in particular, a series of windmills pump water out of lower land and raise it to higher land, ultimately it into a canal.

THEY ALL STILL WORK! This is so cool.

Though it is rare to see them all functioning at one time, there were one or two working when we were there. It’s a free area to visit, except for the opportunity to go into one of them, but really we couldn’t pass that up. So here are some images from inside!

I realize this photo doesn't really show you much, but you can see all the cogs and cranks working on the windmill just being propelled by the breeze from outside.

Took this one from inside the windmill up top. Hence the obstruction of the arm-thingie (that's its official name)

Note the cows. They're real.

Hey how'd that one get in there? And Bear, how did you pass through the gated area designed to keep people and Bears OUT?!!!

Oh, and by “we”…since you brought it up...

I’d like to point out that when I said "we," I was no longer refer to the “royal we”, or to myself and Bear, nor do I mean my friend Ben from the US who just got here today… but in “we” I refer to my real-live, very own, Dutch friend, Wim. Pronounced to us like Vim. It’s short for Willem, so for those of you who need to Americanize everything, that would be like Will short for William. Anyway, Wim is a researcher/phD student at TU Delft (also levees, flooding, etc) and was encouraged by his supervisor to help me out for the week, but I’d like to think that he wants to do it on his own. See, that's him in the photo, and no, I didn’t use photoshop.

Thursday morning, the day of our trip out there, I thought to myself,

“okay… the true test of whether Wim is actually a friend whether he is just “encouraged” by his supervisor to spend time with me depends on how he feels when I bring my Bear out in public.”

Since I had meetings in the morning, I had to hide Bear under my professional guise of a messenger bag and scarf until I was out of the university. Mission Successful.

On the ride over, we are chatting about life, things in the U.S as compared to Holland, speeding tickets, the drinking age, etc… but I am focused on Bear and trying to decide how I am going to break the news.

I look at bear (he’s hidden in my messenger bag on the floor). I look at Wim. Then I look back at Bear and back at Wim. Deep breath.

Ultimately I explain that I had this bear, (thank you Benson family) that he was my companion and that Bear travels everywhere. I explain partially that sometimes, Bear likes to have his picture taken, sometimes bear likes to protest war with chants in NYC like "More snuggle, less war"... sometimes, bear flips you the bird or uses italian hand gestures to get a point across, sometimes he hugs, and sometimes just sometimes, Bear likes to get silly. So I mentioned that Bear would most likely make an appearance today at the Kinderdijk.

Wim seems okay with this. So I feel glad. And I say, “good, now you won’t think I’m crazy.” And Wim replies that he still thinks I’m crazy, but he understands a little more now why. I was waiting for a chuckle or a smile after he said this, something encouraging that he was joking, but none came.

Right.

I think one of the fantastic things about these windmills was how simple a concept and how it is all mechanical and powered by wind.

Another really cool thing that happened is finally I was able to translate for someone ELSE instead of the other way around all the time. We tried to ask a woman where the visitors center was first in Dutch and then in English but she spoke neither so ultimately I asked in Portuguese and alas… success! I felt slightly more useful.

The best part about this last picture is that just as Wim and I had left the windmill, I looked to the right of the doorway, and saw some Dutch wooden shoes.

So did Wim apparently.

I glanced around and began thinking how nice Bear would look in those wooden shoes.

Simultaneously, Wim asked if perhaps Bear wouldn’t like to try on some shoes.

Who’s crazy now?

Red Lights, Bicycles, and Beers, oh My!

2009-09-19T17:25:00.000+02:00

First off, I have missed a few days due to laziness and lack of reliable internet. So the next posts may jump out of order bur for now (Sept 19) I am in Amsterdam.

Friday 18 September, Saturday 19 September

After a morning meeting with another hydro/flood researcher and 2 coffees (I love this place!) in Den Haag where the parliament and queen are, I am back in Amsterdam today and my friend Ben from school just came to meet me for the week. We’re renting a really cool studio flat on Prinsengracht Street in the same canal house building as my new friend Bonnie (she and her husband are expats, and is a friend of my friend Jess who lives in San Francisco). It’s a really cute quirky basement studio flat complete with cool boards/planks overhead, a bathroom in the middle of the studio, cow lights, a fireplace, fake plastic tulips, and a patio with a neat garden with a “water feature.” It is really cool,has a lot of character, and is on a quiet street in the center of town. Lovely.

Parliament in Den Haag

I regret I have no pictures of the following events…

My first bike ride on my first dutch bike!

It was fantastic , but LOOK OUT! This is no job for sissies (thanks Wim for putting that word back into my vocabulary). There are tons of people on bikes and it’s everyone for themselves. I only almost got hit once by a Dutch girl on a mow-ped. I apologized with my best “I’m sorry I’m a silly tourist” face and she actually glared and growled at me. !!!!!!

After dinner (delicious pizza) last night, Bonnie and I went through the notorious Red Light District. (gasp!?) Yep, that is what I said.

The RLD has been on my list of: “things-that-have-always-made-me-nervous-in-a-way-that-compromises-my ethics,-morals,-and-innocence,-and-therefore-I-never-intend-to-pursue-but-about-which-I-have-also-always-been-slightly-curious… “

Also on that list?

Las Vegas, the Mob, Spam, Skydiving, tv show “Perfect Strangers”, Andy Gibbs, cats, Hipsters, Dubai, Swiffers, and voting republican.

Actually the District wasn’t as creepy as I thought. I think I anticipated some similar feeling to Bourbon Street, New Orleans, circa 1998. But I have read that the women and men involved are actually quite organized, protected, and clean. There were a lot of tourists there and some of it seems like it was for show. It’s not for me, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable like I thought I would. Until Bear asked me if I would take him back there, but that likely won’t happen. It would compromise his gazellig-like character.

For those of you who don’t’ know, its called Red Light because the “shops” in which you can see the women “advertising” all have red-lights over the door-steps as identifiers (as if the scantily clad dame isn’t obvious enough).

Midway through the walk, I wondered if anyone has ever tried independent red-light contracting.

Like, is it legal for me to just put on my cutest swimsuit, my camping LED headlamp with the red-light setting, and walk around ringing a bell and an aluminum can like the Salvation Army guys at Christmas, or hot-dog vendors at football games?

HIGHLIGHTS of today and yesterday (sorry again, no pictures)…

-A woman in high-heeled shoes wearing MC Hammer Pants at the Den Haag Centraal train station

-2 cats on a leash. In different places. As in, there are 2 or MORE people in Amsterdam who walk their cats on a leash. I thought I had seen everything.

-A mowped with one woman and 4 little blond dutch 5-year old girls.

You know there is some little 5-year old boy in rolled up jeans and a ripped white t-shirt on a scooter somewhere in Beckley, West Virginia whose dreams just came true. (no offense to southerners… my family grew up in Beckley somewhat and I just could picture it fittingly)

-Watching 4 people hoist a futon out of the 4th floor of a window down to the street (along a canal) using a huge rope… there was quite a scene, including a strange man pillaging the dumpster underneath said suspended futon, completely trusting in the ability of the owners to lower the futon

Additional Commentary:

I have noticed since I got here, as a strong contrast to the Bay Area, how few homeless people there are. They are not standing outside airports, living under the train tracks (at least not visibly), in the alleyways, busy streets, or the train station yelling at you, talking to themselves, or asking for money. I'm not painting a bad picture or knocking on the homeless, but this is how the scene is in the Bay Area and many other cities in the US and world and a stark contrast from here. I have been told that the Dutch government takes care of their homeless and through some program, they are able to offer the homeless to something by the way of 600 Euro/month until they can get back on their feet. I would definitely be interested in learning more about this fact and why the policy here is as such. I suppose there are pluses and minuses to this approach, but it has a noticeable effect anyway.

Incidentally, at the Den Haag Centraal Station yesterday, I was approached by the first homeless person since being in Holland and he asked me for money. Guess where he was from…

The United States.

(yes I gave it to him. I'm a sucker okay?)

Den Haag Hollands Spoor Train Station

My 2 cents…
One struggle here is treating Euro money like real money (which it is of course and even worth more than USD)… but there is a certain part of it all which feels like monopoly play money! Especially the 1 and 2 euro coins! This is dangerous !! On the other hand, converting to dollars in my head every time I go to purchase something is sobering and depressing (come on US economy!) . I am slowly but surely finding a balance.

The last side note of the day??

The people here are incredibly friendly. Really. So many people here have gone out of their way to help me even if they didn’t know me, whether was at the train station setting down work on their lap top to walk around with me and find the right platform, walking me to the central station despite being in a hurry, missing work to take me to windmills and flood defence barriers, cooking dinner, coffee… My greatest appreciations to the people here. And for you family who worry, I’m being taken care of quite well.

Well thanks for joining me so far… I will try to be more on top of my updating, so you don’t get them all at once like this time. I am still having a great time and now looking forward to a week of touring this beautiful city.

OH, and it’s Saturday… so… GO BLUE! I am of COURSE wearing my Maize and Blue shirt today.

Buh bye then…

Livin' it up down below (sea-level)...

2009-09-15T11:27:00.004+02:00

AMSTERDAM!

On 11 September at 9:30am, I landed in Schipol (to pronounce it, you need to say “shipple as though you were a cat coughing on a hairball). I sat next to a lovely Dutch girl (tall, blonde, cool pants) who was working on her PhD studying organizational psychology! (Also very relevant for some research we’ve been doing).

Incidentally, when I told her the purpose of my trip, she volunteered (without my asking) that most Dutch people DO have a good awareness of floods. She said whenever the storms come, that all of the people get worried. We shall see if this corresponds with the rest of the country.

I had no troubles in getting to Amsterdam save that buying a train ticket in an electronic kiosk in Schipol cost me 8x what it should have because I couldn’t read Dutch, nor did I take notice of the tiny UK flag indicating English translation. Dangit! Well, it was a nice trainride anyway. (see photo below).

I spent my first night in the Stay Okay hostel near Vondelpark and wandered around the Leidseplein (a popular square) to kill of my jetlag and get some food before taking a nap. I love how all the cafes have outdoor seating facing the square so you can people watch and not get called a stalker.

Incidentally, I sat down, ordered myself a Medium sized beer (they have 3 sizes here!)

At some point I fell asleep at the table but woke up in time for both my beer AND the chef’s arrival at which point I ordered a Broodje (sandwich) with “Old dutch cheese”

I didn’t ask how old.

It took me exactly 5 hours to get over jet-lag and I was fine by the time I woke up. So I ate some food.
Eventually I wandered around the canal-lined streets until I was tired. I looked for evidence of floods. Wondered if people had any idea their engineering works could fail. I began to wonder about how I would fare not knowing anyone for 2-3 months. But as a small world would have it, I had been in Amsterdam 10 hours and run into someone I knew! My former roommates cousin Hanna used to stay at our house sometimes and she was there visiting her mother so we made plans to wander the town the next day since she had been there a month.

Here are results from our adventure across the tiny city:

BIKES! Everywhere. they have special lanes for bikes like we do in the US, but they are everywhere and there seem to be as many (if not more) bikes than cars. They also have loads of bike parking (like the yellow sign lit up below)

Life-size Chess playing

Canals, houseboats, more bikes

We first walked to Dam square to witness the Amsterdam Draaiorgelfestival, or street organ festival.

The one on the right was playing Thriller. It was almost heavenly.

Later on in the day, the street organs had dispersed to various corners at which point, we took this (click below). It’s apparently the norm??

(yes if you listen closely you can hear me laughing)

I bought my first Dutch cell phone from the most boisterous positive Dutch man ever. I have never felt so good about an electronics purchase and I was assured by my friends that dutch salespeople aren't trying to pull a fast one on you like they do in the Verizon store. He kept trying to shoe me away though, but I had more and more questions. you'd think I never had a phone before. Ultimately I made him change my settings to english and I left. Oh and they gave me a free towel.

Then we went to the beautiful new library/bibliotheek. Sometimes modern architecture isn’t all that appealing to me, but this was incredible. Plus you could eat lunch from the top and the inside and the view were phenomenal.

Later on, I made my way back to the overpriced hostel. To its credit, the HOSTEL was aware of it's place on the land... see below the elevation profile which was on the wall in the hostel. Notice all the land below sea... The dijk is on the left, the airport (thats an airplane), then the pink little building is to the right of that. You can see it is just about 2meters below sea-level. The elevation is on the left in meters.

Saturday night I ultimately out with some friends of friends (thank you Josh Jackson for putting us in touch) at a place called Gollem. Yes, like Lord of the Rings, where I spent the evening chatting it up with the Greenpeace International Folks. Who knew they are all our age?

HIGHLIGHTS:

Streetperformers breakdancing and pulling off a 4-man “worm” and a 1 minute headspin (that'll teach me to bring my camera from now one)

Trying to order food at a café but learning, “sorry, no food, our chef didn’t show up today”

Walking across the street into a pack of superheroes… Of course this would happen here.

See the happy couple below. I particularly like the purse.

DELFT

Alas, after 2 days in Amsterdam, I came here. Delft is a medieval city with narrow brick canal-lined streets. All below sea-level. There’s an old church (Olde Kerk) and a new church, Niewe Kerk, neither of which I have visited yet, except for drinking a beer in front of them. By myself. I am that shady character.

Canal next to the Olde Kerk.

I came here because the Technical University Delft is where the flood protection and engineering is happening so I have a number of meetings and field trips planned for the research. I am trying to maintain a professional look, but we shall see what happens when I bring my bear out to place on the storm surge barrier for pictures.

This is how close all the cars were parked to the canals. Thats my shoe.

I think this bicycle has been here a long time. And that the water has not mixed for quite sometime. That is duckweed, not green carpet.

Canals. You can tell the water levels are very controlled because if you see how close those door "Steps" are to the water, there is not much room for fluctuation. In talking with people, I don't think this area has flooded for quite some time.

I’m staying at the Soul-Inn... it’s a funky little place, where initially I felt like I paid too much but then I realized that actually, the Dutch just make excellent use of every square inch! So my room is probably 7’ x 7’ but I have a 10 ‘ spiral staircase to my bed which is above everything!

This photo really speaks for itself if you have seen the movie, "Meet the parents"
"Straat" is Dutch word for Street. :)

PLANNERS you’ll like this:

On my first night I went running and came upon people gathered around a canal in which 4 canal boats were filled with a choir and symphony musicians. It echoed beautifully throughout the streets. A whole bunch was being said in Dutch, but after I conceded I could not understand, I asked the gentleman to my left what was going on.

Apparently after a 5-10 year struggle, the City of Delft had decided to place the Railway (which currently divides the city as in so many cities), underground to reconnect the city. This music festival on the boats, on a canal lined with lumieres was a celebration of the start of the project! Kinda puts our ribbon-cutting-hard-hat-wearing-shovel-ceremonies to shame. There is still opposition but it is going to happen nonetheless.

Okay let's get to the point-- what do you think REALLY goes on here?

I had my first official research meeting yesterday with a researcher/phD student at the university. I will wait to post more comprehensive thoughts on the Dutch Flood protection system until further discussions. But initially here are some major take home messages:

-The Dutch made flood protection a priority because keeping the Netherlands dry and safe (60% of the country is below sea-level) was a level of National interest first and foremost, before economics.

-The key event triggering this policy change was the great floods of 1953 on the North Sea in which more than 1800 people died (similar to Katrina in that right).

-http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_Sea_flood_of_1953

-Dutch decide their level of protection (for example, do they protect it for the mini floods, the largest storms, or what? The more protection you have, the more money it costs, right?) based on economic optimization. So they factor in what is at risk throughout the country, see how much VALUE is at risk, and they determine the level of protection based on that.

-RISK= probability of flooding x consequences

-Thus, the most valuable areas (behind which they have the most financially to lose) receive the highest protection. There are parts of the country which have 10,000-year protection, and parts which have 1,250-year protection. Some are even aiming for 100,000-year protection

-For comparison, the United States standard is only 100-year protection.

-For clarification: 100-year protection does NOT mean land is protected for 100 years. It means there is a 1/100 chance of a flood that size to occur any given year. Over the live of a 30-year mortgage, this is actually a 26% chance of a large flood.

- There is no insurance program in the Netherlands the way there is in the US ( we have the National Flood Insurance Program)

- When I asked why not, the response I got was, “because no one can afford to take on that risk”…

NOTES:

-I had maybe the best coffee of my life just yesterday at a café. I don’t know how or why, it just was. Mmmm

-I went running along the canals yesterday and on my way back through, got cheered on by a bench full of Dutch college students. I love that people are sarcastic everywhere.

-In an effort to increase my Dutch vocabulary, I have been reading dutch newspapers. I’m thinking I can fool those around me that I really know what is going on. I do my best from the pictures. But from yesterdays news, Obama loves Prince William and Europeans love Soccer (Voetbal). I’ll be fluent in a week.

-Lastly, please know that Michigan’s win over Notre Dame on Saturday, as well as a buckeye loss to USC, did NOT go unnoticed from the Low Country. What a great way to start a fellowship!

-Bear made the trip well for those of you concerned.

- Bears take a little longer to recover from jetlag due to a change in body chemistry which results from 6 months of hibernation .

- In Dutch, his name would be Beer. He is pleased with this translation. Me and beer will go have some beers (biers). Oh, beer thinks he is SOOOO funny!

- Beer sends his best. And he says, GO BLUE!!

Until next time.

Up a very large creek... anybody have a paddle?

2009-09-08T18:34:00.000+02:00

I'm off to the Rheinland...

Following are the chronicles of my travel up the Rhine River to fulfill the Scott Fellowship I received at the end of my master's program in Environmental Planning at University of California, Berkeley.

This page contain not only the results from my research, but also bits from my daily adventures and maybe... just maybe... even a new joke or two and hopefully some terrible flooding puns. If you want more information on the basis of my research, read on to the Research post. Otherwise, see you on the river.

Here is some basic info on the area... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhine

My rough agenda (more details to come):

11-September Amsterdam, Netherlands

13-18 September: Delft, Rotterdam, Delta Works projects

18-25 September: Amsterdam, NL

25 September- 2 October, ?? NL

2 - 9 October: Koln (cologne) Germany

then... Dusseldorf, Aachen, Munich, Karlsruhe, Berlin, Dresden (in no particular order)

Late October: Strasbourg, France

November: Basel, Switzerland up to the headwaters, Vorderrhein, Switzerland

If you will be in the area or would like to be, please send me a note!

In search of the leaky levee,

Jessica Ludy