Today is my last day in Europe for the foreseeable future.
My things are gone, moved last Monday. As I watched the large truck filled with my possessions drive away, I thought there is something quite unsettling about witnessing such a thing. Makes the ground seem unsteady beneath your feet. In the end though, I suppose all I really care about are the pictures. Just about everything else is replaceable.
Man Room the First (as I now call it) is no more. In the last few weeks before I had to put Man Room the First down, I spent a lot of time there, watching movies, playing video games, and remembering the good times like how I witnessed my Giants upset the mighty Patriots two seasons ago with me jumping around like a loon the entire second half. Yup, I spent a lot of time there those last few weeks, kind of like how you might spend extra time with a dying pet remembering all the good days before the inevitable end. The good news is that though Man Room the First is now gone (destroyed, by the Empire), it will be reborn in a manner of speaking in the near future. The first body is gone, but the soul remains, and a second body will come to take its place. And when that happens, Man Room, like a phoenix, will return from the ashes once more to provide high-octane entertainment.
I was also handed papers this past Thursday (June 18th) stating I was honorably discharged from the United States Army. Technically I'm still on active duty until 30 June, but I'm in all reasonable respects completely finished. I took my uniform off for (hopefully) the last time that Thursday evening. Several beers followed. On Friday I mailed the uniform on ahead to San Diego. I'll pull it out of the closet someday, just to look at it and remember.
I've had a lot of thoughts in my head the past week as I try to make sense of my time in the Army. I used to hate that I joined, used to regret it pretty heavily in fact, but that's changed. I've made my peace. The Army is not for me, at least not long term, but I'm happy to say that I've served, even if I joined up not out of a sense of patriotic duty, but just to pay for school way back in 1998. I'm certainly glad to be done, but I must say I do look back with something resembling pride. There are things I'll never miss, like filling out 30 pieces of paper to go away for the weekend only to have that leave "denied" by a 22 year old because of a clerical error, and the like. But there's a flip-side to that coin, too. I'll never forget flying over Baghdad skies in a winding Blackhawk worrying about rockets or feeling the hot sand pound my face right before boarding that Chinook to go on R&R leave back in the summer of 2006, or how I felt when I landed on US soil for that same leave and what it meant to me on that day. Nor will I ever forget the soldiers I knew that died in our battalion, or standing hot, tired, and beleaguered at their memorial services listening to the "Taps" melody play while guns were fired into the air and just trying to keep it together. These are the things I think about now every time I hear the national anthem at a sporting event, or anywhere else. So I would be lying if I said my time in service didn't give me a small sense of pride.
A part of me will miss Europe, too. I must say it's been pretty awesome to be able to live here and experience this place the last several years. I'll certainly miss the superior driving (and driving rules) of the Germans. And I'll miss the superior German beer, the travel options, and the overall scenery. But I think a bigger part of me is ready to go back to The States. As neat as this place in some regards, I would always be an outsider here and I'm not sure I could ever call it home.
And so a new chapter is about to begin. A new beginning in an old town - San Diego, California. I still remember 11 years ago making the difficulty decision to actively NOT apply to California Medical Schools so that I could see and experience something else, be somewhere else. Go out and see the world or whatever. Well, thanks to that decision and the Army, of all things, I think I've done that. And now frankly, from my perspective, it's time to head home.
Lord of the Funboys no more, just Discostup, a ordinary civilian citizen, looking forward to the next phase.
See you all on the other side of the pond.
To the left lane of the German Autobahn - I Salute you
I said goodbye to my car today. Yup, had to sell off the old 1995 BMW 740i. It has European specs, so I couldn't take it back with me even if I wanted to.
But really, I didn't. You see, I loved that car. But taking that car, a super-charged V8-laden highway monster like that off of the Autobahn where it can run free like it was born to and into the traffic-laden clogged streets of Southern California? That would have been cruel, like taking King Kong out of his lost jungle island home and transporting him to Manhattan. It just wouldn't work. And though my car probably wouldn't try to climb the highest building and swat at buzzing helicopters, it would be equally sad on the inside.
So I said goodbye. Sold it to an Army Captain who had just come back from a 15-month deployment to Iraq. He lives, ironically enough, in Baumholder. So my last drive in the car was back to "The Rock", the land of my deployment unit. A fitting trip down memory lane as my time in Europe AND the Army draws to a close.
I'll miss that car. And I'll miss driving on the autobahn over here - make no mistake. Germans are better highway drivers than Americans because they have a very common sense approach. Go as fast as you're comfortable with, and stay the hell out of the left lane unless you're the fastest car in sight. It's that simple. And it works.
"Go on girl, and don't look back"
But really, I didn't. You see, I loved that car. But taking that car, a super-charged V8-laden highway monster like that off of the Autobahn where it can run free like it was born to and into the traffic-laden clogged streets of Southern California? That would have been cruel, like taking King Kong out of his lost jungle island home and transporting him to Manhattan. It just wouldn't work. And though my car probably wouldn't try to climb the highest building and swat at buzzing helicopters, it would be equally sad on the inside.
So I said goodbye. Sold it to an Army Captain who had just come back from a 15-month deployment to Iraq. He lives, ironically enough, in Baumholder. So my last drive in the car was back to "The Rock", the land of my deployment unit. A fitting trip down memory lane as my time in Europe AND the Army draws to a close.
I'll miss that car. And I'll miss driving on the autobahn over here - make no mistake. Germans are better highway drivers than Americans because they have a very common sense approach. Go as fast as you're comfortable with, and stay the hell out of the left lane unless you're the fastest car in sight. It's that simple. And it works.
"Go on girl, and don't look back"
Celebrity Guests at Landstuhl
From CNN:
"Later Friday, the president traveled in Germany to Ramstein Air Base and visited with wounded American troops at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center."
This was yesterday. Unfortunately security was ridiculous and I wasn't on call. (Did I just say that it was unfortunate I wasn't on call?). I didn't get to see a thing regarding Obama.
But a few weeks earlier, I did get to see Anna Kournikova as she toured the hospital...
One thing is clear - she wants me
One of our pharmacists was kind enough to take the picture. My ID badge is turned around on purpose - standard security precautions for photos I was told. Come to think of it, isn't Kournikova Russian?!? Maybe she was a spy, and perhaps that's why she's not returning my calls...
"Later Friday, the president traveled in Germany to Ramstein Air Base and visited with wounded American troops at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center."
This was yesterday. Unfortunately security was ridiculous and I wasn't on call. (Did I just say that it was unfortunate I wasn't on call?). I didn't get to see a thing regarding Obama.
But a few weeks earlier, I did get to see Anna Kournikova as she toured the hospital...
One thing is clear - she wants me
One of our pharmacists was kind enough to take the picture. My ID badge is turned around on purpose - standard security precautions for photos I was told. Come to think of it, isn't Kournikova Russian?!? Maybe she was a spy, and perhaps that's why she's not returning my calls...
Rockin' Fool
I've been playing a lot of Rock Band and Guitar Hero World Tour lately.
About a month or so ago after we got back from San Diego, Gwen and I bought Guitar Hero World Tour for the PS3 because we knew it came with a "good" guitar. I say "good" as opposed to Rock Band's standard "awful" guitar, which comes complete with a mushy strum bar from hell and non-clacking fret keys that manage to instantly drop talent levels from a nice mix of expert and hard on Guitar Hero to a mediocre mix of mostly medium and occasional hard on Rock Band - at least for Gwen and I this is the case. (Somehow Eryn and Adam have gotten around this problem - I smell a soul selling...)
(While Gwen and I were in San Diego in February Eryn was borrowing a Guitar Hero World Tour guitar that Gwen and I found was much closer to the original Guitar Hero guitars which we used to shred on back in the PS2 days. Suddenly playing guitar became fun again - an experience we had yet to have in Rock Band. )
At first we only wanted the guitar itself for use with the Rock Band game, but there was no way, at the local Air Force Power Zone (eat your heart out Best Buy), to buy a lone guitar without purchasing the entire Guitar Hero World Tour game (which comes complete with game, drums, guitar, and mic). Wanting desperately to actually enjoy guitar on our very own Rock Band game, and interested in the song list for GHWT, we decided to make the purchase of the entire GHWT game.
Despite the added cost, and though we only really wanted the guitar, we were pleasantly surprised at how neat Guitar Hero World Tour also was. The song list is good, not better or worse than Rock Band, just different, it's basically just another song list. Some of the styling in the game is clearly different, but not too much. There are few other odds and ends which separate GHWT from Rock Band, but generally the game is very much the same. That said, there is one major difference - the drum kit.
Whereas Rock Band has only four pads and a foot pedal, Guitar Hero World Tour comes with FIVE pads and a drum pedal. Also, the alignment is such that two of the five drum pads sit higher in the kit representing cymbals (see pics).
Rock Band Drums
Guitar Hero World Tour Drums
Because of this, and for obvious reasons, drumming in GHWT is harder than in Rock Band. When I purchased the game, and because of our recent San Diego trip and extensive access to Eryn's system, I was starting to flirt with the "hard" setting on drums in Rock Band. This didn't translate so well on Guitar Hero World Tour, as the five pads and their locations on the screen threw me for a loop at first. Slowly, though I started to figure it out, and I must say it's probably a little bit "cooler" (relative term here) to play a 5-pad kit with varying heights as opposed to simple 4-pad kit. It feels more "real". I'm basing this, of course, on years of real drumming experience.
The other HUGE reason to buy GHWT back at that time was that I knew in only a short while a certain game called "Guitar Hero: Metallica" was coming out, and it was exclusively for GHWT, not Rock Band.
Given my recent love of Metallica's new album Death Magnetic (which I purcahsed in the fall and have not gotten sick of yet - I honestly listen to that thing, in full, at least twice a week, and often much more - it's the best album I've heard in a long time), and the fact that Metallica's first four major albums remain insanely good, and the fact that I thought their power cord type of music would play perfectly into the rhythm game genre, I knew that GH: Metallica was a game I needed to have.
Turned out I was right.
Two weekends ago, I was on call through the weekend, working the days but having the nights off. Gwen was off in England visiting her aunt. On Friday after work I drove by the old Power Zone (again, Best Buy eat your heart out) and there it was: Guitar Hero: Metallica. Purchasing it with all the zeal of a 9-year old me spying a new GI Joe figure on the shelves at Toys R' Us circa 1984, I drove home (on the autobahn, listening to Metallica) and before I knew it was in Man Room banging my head and drumming my ass off to Master of Puppets, Whiplash, and the rest.
With Gwen gone, Friday, Saturday and Sunday of that weekend went down the same. Work, home, Man Room, Guitar Hero: Metallica. I was putting in 3-4 hours a night on that kit.
I will say that to start I simply had to go down to the Medium setting for most of the Metallica songs at first. There was no shame. They're simply too drum heavy, too bass pedal heavy. I was having more fun on medium, getting my feet, learing the songs. Finally I started to do some of them on hard. And there were some great moments in there, banging my head to "MAS-TER!" "MAS-TER!" while the song blared on. It was really fun. The most fun I've had with a rhythm game in quite some time. Plus, of course, there was All Nightmare Long from my beloved Death Magnetic. An 8 minute endurance masterpiece on the drums.
When Monday came around the work week resumed and all was forgotten until this weekend, when Gwen and I went over to Man Room and I showed her GH: Metallica. Her love of Metallica is not as strong as mine, of course, but I think she still had fun checking the game out (plus it's not ALL Metallica songs). Unfortunately though, near the end of a another "killer sesh", the red pad on my GH drum kit stopped working. It just stopped out of nowhere (and made me fail Master of Puppets in the process). Which is funny, because it's by far the least used in the entire game. I have no idea why it stopped working. Several experiments to check it out and potentially fix the thing yielded no results, and now I'm left with no choice but to send the kit back and await a replacement, which'll take a few weeks.
Once the GHWT Drum Kit went down, we went back to Rock Band. Only something cool had happened. All my GH: Metallica drumming over the previous weekend had vaulted me comfortably into "Hard" drumming on Rock Band. Only four pads on regular, non-Metallica rock songs? You're joking right? Anyway, I'm certainly not perfect at hard, not even close, but I'm very comfortable with just about any song on hard now, though I haven't unlocked Painkiller or anything deep on the lists yet to really test myself. But I did Everlong pretty smartly which rates "5 stars" on drum difficulty. Not too shabby.
And most importantly, I'm enjoying rhythm games again. The bitter taste of the Rock Band Guitar has been washed away by the superior GHWT guitar. Though this applies to Gwen more than I, because she has been playing a lot more guitar. And I have my drums, where I feel I've definitely made a leap (not unlike going from medium to hard on guitar way back in the GH days on PS2). And together we've spent some quality time at Man Room rocking out, unlocking songs, and actually having a good time with Rock Band AND Guitar Hero World Tour.
And I owe it all to Metallica.
MAS-TER!
About a month or so ago after we got back from San Diego, Gwen and I bought Guitar Hero World Tour for the PS3 because we knew it came with a "good" guitar. I say "good" as opposed to Rock Band's standard "awful" guitar, which comes complete with a mushy strum bar from hell and non-clacking fret keys that manage to instantly drop talent levels from a nice mix of expert and hard on Guitar Hero to a mediocre mix of mostly medium and occasional hard on Rock Band - at least for Gwen and I this is the case. (Somehow Eryn and Adam have gotten around this problem - I smell a soul selling...)
(While Gwen and I were in San Diego in February Eryn was borrowing a Guitar Hero World Tour guitar that Gwen and I found was much closer to the original Guitar Hero guitars which we used to shred on back in the PS2 days. Suddenly playing guitar became fun again - an experience we had yet to have in Rock Band. )
At first we only wanted the guitar itself for use with the Rock Band game, but there was no way, at the local Air Force Power Zone (eat your heart out Best Buy), to buy a lone guitar without purchasing the entire Guitar Hero World Tour game (which comes complete with game, drums, guitar, and mic). Wanting desperately to actually enjoy guitar on our very own Rock Band game, and interested in the song list for GHWT, we decided to make the purchase of the entire GHWT game.
Despite the added cost, and though we only really wanted the guitar, we were pleasantly surprised at how neat Guitar Hero World Tour also was. The song list is good, not better or worse than Rock Band, just different, it's basically just another song list. Some of the styling in the game is clearly different, but not too much. There are few other odds and ends which separate GHWT from Rock Band, but generally the game is very much the same. That said, there is one major difference - the drum kit.
Whereas Rock Band has only four pads and a foot pedal, Guitar Hero World Tour comes with FIVE pads and a drum pedal. Also, the alignment is such that two of the five drum pads sit higher in the kit representing cymbals (see pics).
Rock Band Drums
Guitar Hero World Tour Drums
Because of this, and for obvious reasons, drumming in GHWT is harder than in Rock Band. When I purchased the game, and because of our recent San Diego trip and extensive access to Eryn's system, I was starting to flirt with the "hard" setting on drums in Rock Band. This didn't translate so well on Guitar Hero World Tour, as the five pads and their locations on the screen threw me for a loop at first. Slowly, though I started to figure it out, and I must say it's probably a little bit "cooler" (relative term here) to play a 5-pad kit with varying heights as opposed to simple 4-pad kit. It feels more "real". I'm basing this, of course, on years of real drumming experience.
The other HUGE reason to buy GHWT back at that time was that I knew in only a short while a certain game called "Guitar Hero: Metallica" was coming out, and it was exclusively for GHWT, not Rock Band.
Given my recent love of Metallica's new album Death Magnetic (which I purcahsed in the fall and have not gotten sick of yet - I honestly listen to that thing, in full, at least twice a week, and often much more - it's the best album I've heard in a long time), and the fact that Metallica's first four major albums remain insanely good, and the fact that I thought their power cord type of music would play perfectly into the rhythm game genre, I knew that GH: Metallica was a game I needed to have.
Turned out I was right.
Two weekends ago, I was on call through the weekend, working the days but having the nights off. Gwen was off in England visiting her aunt. On Friday after work I drove by the old Power Zone (again, Best Buy eat your heart out) and there it was: Guitar Hero: Metallica. Purchasing it with all the zeal of a 9-year old me spying a new GI Joe figure on the shelves at Toys R' Us circa 1984, I drove home (on the autobahn, listening to Metallica) and before I knew it was in Man Room banging my head and drumming my ass off to Master of Puppets, Whiplash, and the rest.
With Gwen gone, Friday, Saturday and Sunday of that weekend went down the same. Work, home, Man Room, Guitar Hero: Metallica. I was putting in 3-4 hours a night on that kit.
I will say that to start I simply had to go down to the Medium setting for most of the Metallica songs at first. There was no shame. They're simply too drum heavy, too bass pedal heavy. I was having more fun on medium, getting my feet, learing the songs. Finally I started to do some of them on hard. And there were some great moments in there, banging my head to "MAS-TER!" "MAS-TER!" while the song blared on. It was really fun. The most fun I've had with a rhythm game in quite some time. Plus, of course, there was All Nightmare Long from my beloved Death Magnetic. An 8 minute endurance masterpiece on the drums.
When Monday came around the work week resumed and all was forgotten until this weekend, when Gwen and I went over to Man Room and I showed her GH: Metallica. Her love of Metallica is not as strong as mine, of course, but I think she still had fun checking the game out (plus it's not ALL Metallica songs). Unfortunately though, near the end of a another "killer sesh", the red pad on my GH drum kit stopped working. It just stopped out of nowhere (and made me fail Master of Puppets in the process). Which is funny, because it's by far the least used in the entire game. I have no idea why it stopped working. Several experiments to check it out and potentially fix the thing yielded no results, and now I'm left with no choice but to send the kit back and await a replacement, which'll take a few weeks.
Once the GHWT Drum Kit went down, we went back to Rock Band. Only something cool had happened. All my GH: Metallica drumming over the previous weekend had vaulted me comfortably into "Hard" drumming on Rock Band. Only four pads on regular, non-Metallica rock songs? You're joking right? Anyway, I'm certainly not perfect at hard, not even close, but I'm very comfortable with just about any song on hard now, though I haven't unlocked Painkiller or anything deep on the lists yet to really test myself. But I did Everlong pretty smartly which rates "5 stars" on drum difficulty. Not too shabby.
And most importantly, I'm enjoying rhythm games again. The bitter taste of the Rock Band Guitar has been washed away by the superior GHWT guitar. Though this applies to Gwen more than I, because she has been playing a lot more guitar. And I have my drums, where I feel I've definitely made a leap (not unlike going from medium to hard on guitar way back in the GH days on PS2). And together we've spent some quality time at Man Room rocking out, unlocking songs, and actually having a good time with Rock Band AND Guitar Hero World Tour.
And I owe it all to Metallica.
MAS-TER!
Last Few Weeks
Time for rapid fire catch-up.
San Diego
Gwen and I spent a week or so in San Diego in late February. I was doing several more job interviews; Gwen was doing some stuff for the hiring process regarding her new job. We were also starting to look around at houses in the area.
Thoughts:
-Interviewing is fun in some ways, but quite laborious. There is a lot of variety out there in terms of jobs and luckily I had several decent offers to pick from. By the end, though, I was starting to forget who I had told what, and which specifics went with which job. The process is tiring, but obviously necessary. I think I interviewed for about ten different positions and with more than twenty-five people when all was said and done. (That's a lot of time forcing good posture and being "serious" - not my strong suits.)
-With Scripps Green Hospital pushing off their hiring process until April because of budget issues, my top two choices became an academic hospitalist position at UCSD versus a Government Service (GS) academic position at Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego (right next to the world famous zoo). Both seemed great. In the end, both offered me jobs and I went with the Naval Hospital. It boiled down to two things. One is that I already have seven years of service time which can be applied toward a government pension. Two is that I wasn't quite ready for a week on, week off schedule forever, which basically means one spends every other weekend at work. (This includes EVEN the football season. Shocking, I know.)
-So I'll be working with the Navy and I'm already building an arsenal of proper Navy Jokes. Most of them revolve around that Village People song and me clapping, often in a taunting manner. The job itself is about 3/4 clinic, and 1/4 inpatient, nearly all of it "teaching", i.e. with residents. I'm pretty excited about it, especially after slaving, not unlike a resident, at Landstuhl these past four years.
-Regarding housing, there is a ton of stuff on the market, it's all relatively cheaper than the average San Diego market - it's a total buyer's market. And since Gwen and I don't have to sell anything in the same market, it's basically an ideal situation. All that said - San Diego is still way too expensive. But I'll pay - yes I will. I just keep telling myself there is a small "sun tax". I can live with it.
-The rest of the San Diego trip revolved around the usual antics with the San Diego posse. Complex (and not so complex) board games at Eryn's (Best games in order: Wyatt Earp, The Space one that we played until 2 am, Space Alert, and then on down), Rock Band, dinners out, and general hang around time. Always a blast.
-We also had the first annual Iwan versus Adam Mile Race. Not sure how the concept started, but both of them thought they could beat the other in a mile race, or at least were interested to see how it would turn out. Somehow the event took off with a promotion scheme not unlike a heavy weight fight. Going into the race it seemed like no one had any idea who would win. In the end, Iwan won handily, which was attributed to his multiple sessions of weekly soccer as compared to Adam's multiple sessions of weekly Rock Band. But good fun was had, and the race itself is starting to generate ideas of a similar nature - who knows where that could lead. We could be in for an old man decathalon next summer.
Mallory's Visit
Following our return from San Diego my sister came out for her Spring Break from second year of medical school and so she Gwen, and I took a trip to France. The first half was spent snowboarding in Chamonix, and the second half was spent gallivanting about Paris. A good time was had by all.
-I'm going to miss the Alps. I won't miss Euro Herding at the resorts, but I'll miss the natural beauty of the place and the far more open "Off piste" setting of Alpine skiing which allows for more off-trail exploration than in the States. Also the "apres ski" scene in Europe is much better and I've grown to enjoy a tall fat beer in the late afternoon while watching the sun go down over the scenery, followed by a giggily, slightly clumsy last run of the day down to the base.
-I will also miss the restaurant scene in Chamonix, which includes some ridiculously good french food. Once again we made our trip to the Albert Premier restaurant and gorged ourselves on fine cuisine followed by heavy handfuls of bliss from the ubiquitous cheese cart which was followed up by the equally ubiquitous dessert cart.
-We have probably taken our last trip to Paris now, for the foreseeable future I would guess. Great city. I hate to say it (damn Frenchies), but Paris is one awesome town. (Though I could have used a few more "thanks for bailing us out in WWII" comments than I actually received.) I guess I'm not fully decided on how my power rankings of European Cities I've Been To will settle out, but one could safely bet that Paris will be right at the top.
-Always good to see my sis who's in stressed out second year med school mode. How I don't envy those days. Seeing her going through it is just another reminded of how the long the road through medical training really is.
And there it is. Hopefully I'll get some pics up in another post. Things are starting to move pretty fast around here. In just three months I'll be on terminal leave on my way out the Army door. It seems like there is still a ton to do to get properly transitioned, not to mention continue working here and there. If only someone task-oriented were around to help me plan these things...
Lastly, saw Watchmen last night and I really enjoyed it. My take is that if you've read the graphic novel (Joel!) you'll be pretty pleased. If not, good luck getting into it.
And now you're caught up on the essentials.
San Diego
Gwen and I spent a week or so in San Diego in late February. I was doing several more job interviews; Gwen was doing some stuff for the hiring process regarding her new job. We were also starting to look around at houses in the area.
Thoughts:
-Interviewing is fun in some ways, but quite laborious. There is a lot of variety out there in terms of jobs and luckily I had several decent offers to pick from. By the end, though, I was starting to forget who I had told what, and which specifics went with which job. The process is tiring, but obviously necessary. I think I interviewed for about ten different positions and with more than twenty-five people when all was said and done. (That's a lot of time forcing good posture and being "serious" - not my strong suits.)
-With Scripps Green Hospital pushing off their hiring process until April because of budget issues, my top two choices became an academic hospitalist position at UCSD versus a Government Service (GS) academic position at Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego (right next to the world famous zoo). Both seemed great. In the end, both offered me jobs and I went with the Naval Hospital. It boiled down to two things. One is that I already have seven years of service time which can be applied toward a government pension. Two is that I wasn't quite ready for a week on, week off schedule forever, which basically means one spends every other weekend at work. (This includes EVEN the football season. Shocking, I know.)
-So I'll be working with the Navy and I'm already building an arsenal of proper Navy Jokes. Most of them revolve around that Village People song and me clapping, often in a taunting manner. The job itself is about 3/4 clinic, and 1/4 inpatient, nearly all of it "teaching", i.e. with residents. I'm pretty excited about it, especially after slaving, not unlike a resident, at Landstuhl these past four years.
-Regarding housing, there is a ton of stuff on the market, it's all relatively cheaper than the average San Diego market - it's a total buyer's market. And since Gwen and I don't have to sell anything in the same market, it's basically an ideal situation. All that said - San Diego is still way too expensive. But I'll pay - yes I will. I just keep telling myself there is a small "sun tax". I can live with it.
-The rest of the San Diego trip revolved around the usual antics with the San Diego posse. Complex (and not so complex) board games at Eryn's (Best games in order: Wyatt Earp, The Space one that we played until 2 am, Space Alert, and then on down), Rock Band, dinners out, and general hang around time. Always a blast.
-We also had the first annual Iwan versus Adam Mile Race. Not sure how the concept started, but both of them thought they could beat the other in a mile race, or at least were interested to see how it would turn out. Somehow the event took off with a promotion scheme not unlike a heavy weight fight. Going into the race it seemed like no one had any idea who would win. In the end, Iwan won handily, which was attributed to his multiple sessions of weekly soccer as compared to Adam's multiple sessions of weekly Rock Band. But good fun was had, and the race itself is starting to generate ideas of a similar nature - who knows where that could lead. We could be in for an old man decathalon next summer.
Mallory's Visit
Following our return from San Diego my sister came out for her Spring Break from second year of medical school and so she Gwen, and I took a trip to France. The first half was spent snowboarding in Chamonix, and the second half was spent gallivanting about Paris. A good time was had by all.
-I'm going to miss the Alps. I won't miss Euro Herding at the resorts, but I'll miss the natural beauty of the place and the far more open "Off piste" setting of Alpine skiing which allows for more off-trail exploration than in the States. Also the "apres ski" scene in Europe is much better and I've grown to enjoy a tall fat beer in the late afternoon while watching the sun go down over the scenery, followed by a giggily, slightly clumsy last run of the day down to the base.
-I will also miss the restaurant scene in Chamonix, which includes some ridiculously good french food. Once again we made our trip to the Albert Premier restaurant and gorged ourselves on fine cuisine followed by heavy handfuls of bliss from the ubiquitous cheese cart which was followed up by the equally ubiquitous dessert cart.
-We have probably taken our last trip to Paris now, for the foreseeable future I would guess. Great city. I hate to say it (damn Frenchies), but Paris is one awesome town. (Though I could have used a few more "thanks for bailing us out in WWII" comments than I actually received.) I guess I'm not fully decided on how my power rankings of European Cities I've Been To will settle out, but one could safely bet that Paris will be right at the top.
-Always good to see my sis who's in stressed out second year med school mode. How I don't envy those days. Seeing her going through it is just another reminded of how the long the road through medical training really is.
And there it is. Hopefully I'll get some pics up in another post. Things are starting to move pretty fast around here. In just three months I'll be on terminal leave on my way out the Army door. It seems like there is still a ton to do to get properly transitioned, not to mention continue working here and there. If only someone task-oriented were around to help me plan these things...
Lastly, saw Watchmen last night and I really enjoyed it. My take is that if you've read the graphic novel (Joel!) you'll be pretty pleased. If not, good luck getting into it.
And now you're caught up on the essentials.
Layover in London
Blogging from Heathrow, amidst a 3.5 hour layover from Frankfurt on our way to California.
I like England and Heathrow is a nice airport. Always nice to hear English again, even if it is the sassy British style English. Why'd they steal our language, anyway?
My favorite thing about the British after living in Germany is the fact that they respect the queue. Germans remain barbaric in some ways, as if they're still bearded and savage lying in wait outside the boundaries of the "civilized" Roman Empire. Nowhere is this more true than in their complete inability to line up for anything. This 'Euro Herding' as Gwen and I call it is rampant. Any German (or Continental European for that matter) will barge their way into any tiny open space in front of you, no matter how long you've been standing somewhere, waiting for exactly the same thing.
It doesn't matter what the goal is, the Continental Euros will glob up into a giant herd and converge on the objective with no sense of order whatsoever. I'm talking about airport lines, bus lines, counter lines, movie theaters - anything. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I've seen old ladies elbowed aside, the handicapped shoved backwards. It's survival of the fittest. Herd mentality rules.
Once while waiting in line for a movie in Paris some disgusted but sorrowful French man took pity on me after he saw me waiting patiently and giving the person in front of me a little space. A few Frenchies had just barged their way in front of me, and as I stood there with a dumbfounded look on my face the guy looked at me, half pitying, half disgusted, and said, in broken French-accented English, "This is France. You must go forward - there is no discipline."
Check that, buddy.
Well I'm happy to report that in England there IS discipline, and the queue is respected like no other. Which is exactly why I smiled with glee as I waited in the airport bookstore line, a line which was rigidly cordoned off with no hope of sabotage by a potential greedy, insensitive Euro Herder.
Order is restored.
I like England and Heathrow is a nice airport. Always nice to hear English again, even if it is the sassy British style English. Why'd they steal our language, anyway?
My favorite thing about the British after living in Germany is the fact that they respect the queue. Germans remain barbaric in some ways, as if they're still bearded and savage lying in wait outside the boundaries of the "civilized" Roman Empire. Nowhere is this more true than in their complete inability to line up for anything. This 'Euro Herding' as Gwen and I call it is rampant. Any German (or Continental European for that matter) will barge their way into any tiny open space in front of you, no matter how long you've been standing somewhere, waiting for exactly the same thing.
It doesn't matter what the goal is, the Continental Euros will glob up into a giant herd and converge on the objective with no sense of order whatsoever. I'm talking about airport lines, bus lines, counter lines, movie theaters - anything. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. I've seen old ladies elbowed aside, the handicapped shoved backwards. It's survival of the fittest. Herd mentality rules.
Once while waiting in line for a movie in Paris some disgusted but sorrowful French man took pity on me after he saw me waiting patiently and giving the person in front of me a little space. A few Frenchies had just barged their way in front of me, and as I stood there with a dumbfounded look on my face the guy looked at me, half pitying, half disgusted, and said, in broken French-accented English, "This is France. You must go forward - there is no discipline."
Check that, buddy.
Well I'm happy to report that in England there IS discipline, and the queue is respected like no other. Which is exactly why I smiled with glee as I waited in the airport bookstore line, a line which was rigidly cordoned off with no hope of sabotage by a potential greedy, insensitive Euro Herder.
Order is restored.
Krakow and Auschwitz
Gwen and I spent the last few days in Krakow, Poland, touring around and exploring as per our usual four-day-weekend-in-a-random-city-in-Europe routine. While the city itself was great (we both give it a thumbs up), the highlight of the trip was certainly the sobering trip out to the Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration camp.
This post sort of reflects the trip - goofy then sobering. But I'll go ahead and end it on a positive note.
Friday
When Gwen and I take these trips it usually amounts to two days of traveling (Friday and Monday) and two days, three nights of actual city sightseeing. For some reason it was kind of a grind to get to Krakow. We hopped in the car early on Friday, drove two hours to the Stuttgart airport (rather than the closer Frankfurt), watched our flight get delayed an hour (watching coverage of the Buffalo plane crash in that time), finally got on the plane and took the two hour flight, landed at the remote airport which turned out to be two hours from Krakow, got confused at the archaic shuttle system and tried to figure it out while wandering outside like Siberian nomads in a swirling blizzard, finally figured it out and hopped onto a two-hour crammed "bus" ride (it was more like a minivan modified with an extra row of seats, thus eliminating any leg room, and chairs with necks at a 20 degree forward angle), got into the main bus terminal in Krakow, wandered around in the same blizzard conditions looking for a surprisingly hard to find taxi, realized our driver had the exact same haircut as Ivan Drago in Rocky IV (had a flat top you could land a plane on), and then finally made it to our hotel some 11 hours after we started the day. It was a little ridiculous in retrospect.
(In order to up the annoying ante for poor Gwendolyn, I had Beck's "Hell Yes" (from the Guero album) stuck in my head and kept singing it, only I would replace the words from the catchy chorus with those corresponding to our situation.
"HELL YES. Now our flight is delayed; now we're boarding the plane. HELL YES." )
I mentioned the snow, which is important because it became a constant feature of the entire weekend - it was dumping snow just about the entire time we were there. This kind of thing is great for trips to the Alps and skiing, but for sightseeing it can kind of hinder things, and it seemed we were constantly trudging through slush and bracing ourselves against brisk winds and heavy flakes.
So Friday was a long day. Luckily one of the well reviewed restaurants was right in our hotel (the Radisson, which as a chain tend to be much better in Europe), so exhausted we just sort of ambled down to dinner and had at it. The dinner was actually a buffet (but a good one), and it came with free wine, so the wait staff just kept filling the glasses. By the end of the meal both of us were feeling it pretty good and Gwen was actually fairly sauced, unintentionally. She even had the spins (which she almost never gets).
Drunk, we collapsed in the hotel room and watched "Flavor of Love" on Polish MTV, a horrid show which I had heard of but never seen. For some reason though, all we could do was keep watching. We couldn't turn it off. I couldn't stop wondering how anybody could be possibly be attracted in the slightest to Flava Flav. For the most part I hate TV, especially reality TV.
Saturday
Saturday we decided to go to the nearby and famous Wieliczka salt mine (which is actually a UNESCO world heritage site). This turned out to be a good decision because it a) was a cool place, b) got us out of the weather, and c) gave me ample opportunity to tune up my "stupid game" for my upcoming San Diego visit (Oh I'm ready E.).
You can read about the mine here.
I mention the stupid game because I couldn't stop quoting the Lord of the Rings - the part in Fellowship where they enter the mines of Moria, and before they realize it's actually a tomb, Gimli is singing its praises. The quote goes like this:
"Soon Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone. And they call it a mine - A MINE!"
Anyway, poor Gwendolyn had to suffer through me saying this line, no kidding, at least 50 times as we prepared for, underwent, and completed the three hour tour of the mine. That last part (they call it a mine - a MINE!) was the real kicker. I'd give myself 60 quotings of that part (all with full inflection) easy.
After the mines we returned to the city and wandered around in yet another blizzard to briefly see the castle in Krakow. But by then it was getting cold and dark and we headed back to the hotel to prepare for dinner.
Polish food features a number of meat and pork products and famously pierogies which are kind of like oily potato raviolis (with variations). They are quite good - if not so good for you.
I give the Polish beer about a solid B by European standards (a tough scale). Not bad, but not as good as German beer (A-minus to A) and certainly not as good as Belgian beer (A plus).
After dinner Gwen and I retired to the room again, and this time got stuck watching "Rock of Love" with Bret Michaels. We hated this show. And yet again we couldn't turn it off. And thus we hated ourselves. (The only plus? Euro-MTV sub-titles the show and doesn't edit the swears so everyone is cursing their head off bleep-free.) Did I mention I hate TV?
Sunday
Sunday was our self-styled Happy Fun Day, which we jokingly called our tour to Auschwitz right up until the point when the tour actually started and then all joking abruptly ceased and was replaced by sober sighs and grimaces.
Gwen signed us up for a group tour of Auschwitz, which began at our hotel where a bus picked us up to start the day. The bus ride out to the camp is about an hour and after a short introduction from our tour guide we spent that hour watching a 30-minute documentary on the horrors of Nazi Germany and more specifically the horrors of the sadistic camp itself. The film was not surprisingly a real downer and even before we arrived I gave Gwendolyn a "this is going to be a long day" look.
Finally we arrived and then we were off the bus and into the front office. We picked up our headsets (which the tour guide spoke to us through) and headed off into the camp.
Right away we were led through the infamous "Arbeit Mach Frei" gate. The translated phrase is "Work sets you free" which of course resides atop the list of world's all time sickest jokes. From there we marched around to all the different buildings of the camp. Most of the ones we toured were the original buildings but were set up in a museum form with simple-but-powerful exhibitions detailing the camp's nefarious activities. Occasionally we'd wander through buildings left largely intact to detail where exactly torture and other such things took place.
Our guide was Polish but spoke excellent English and was really very good; (I would say she was the second or third best guide I've had for anything in Europe, right after the guy who did the "Walking Tour of the Third Reich" in Munich (who was easily number one) and maybe even better than the French guy from the Ric Steve's book who did a walking tour of Paris for Gwen, Pete, and I.) She had a great subdued tone, speaking clearly and simply stating the facts without embellishing. These issues need no embellishing of course, and the clarity of fact and picture in this case is really all that needs to be heard or seen. She did an awesome job and seeing as in my experience a guide can really make or break a tour experience, I was very thankful we had her.
The list of rooms, exhibitions, sights, and places we were taken throughout the camp reads like a Clive Barker novel. Things start with displays detailing simple facts about the camp, how it was built (by Soviet POWs), the number of prisoners (a lot), the years of operation (1941-1945), and of course the estimated number of those murdered (about 1.5 million, 90% Jews). There are dark pictures of guards, prisoners, the "selection" process at the train tracks, and everything else associated with Auschwitz. Next is a large scale model of a crematorium detailing the entire process of the gas chamber. Things get worse from there, as you're led past a room filled with 1950 kg of human hair (shaved off victims, particularly women, and which after gassing was typically sent to textile factories - they even had a rug made by the Nazis from mostly human hair, you could sees the frayed strands - yeesh). Next up is a room full of baggage and belongings discarded after arrival, testaments of broken and shattered lives of thousands. Then a macarbe room which tells about Dr. Mengele's medical experiments. Then there's the room of shoes with thousands upon thousands of discarded shoes from prisoners. Really sobering, dark stuff, just walking past this. Finally they have a portion dedicated to children where then have cases full of childrens' toys, shoes, pictures, and clothes from those murdered. That was probably the worst for me, seeing toddler sweaters and toys in a glass case, knowing that not even the little tykes were spared from the chambers. Often, as the guide pointed out, since they couldn't work, they were the first ones in.
The next building was a torture house, in which you're led past actual starvation stalls (people simply left to die, no food or water given) and the so called "standing stalls" in which four people were crammed into 4 x 4 foot stalls and left standing next to each other for a week or more, again without provisions. In this building was a small trial room where prisoners in violation of camp rules were tried (all found guilty), and sent immediately outside to be shot. And thus the tour also continues outside at that point, so everyone can take in the "Wall of Death" where countless thousands were murdered by single shots to the head.
Next it's on to the only remaining crematorium, which was ironically the first one. (After it was deemed that this one was too small, and thus inefficient for mass killing, the Nazis built several more at Birkenau down the road, but they destroyed them prior to abandoning the camp.) The tour actually takes you through the crematorium itself, so that you go into the changing room (where prisoners were told to get naked for the "showers"), then the gas chamber itself (complete with holes in the ceiling where the Zyklon B was pitched in) and then onto the crematorium where the bodies were burned (after the hair was shaved and collected and all the gold filling removed from the mouths of the corpses, of course).
As you can tell, this was dark, dark stuff. Very sobering. Very hard to believe that you're actually standing in a gas chamber where thousands died. Just madness.
Unfortunately there were no pictures allowed inside the buildings or inside the crematorium. Also, when walking through the crematorium, there is a strict silence code as well given that the place is technically a memorial. Not that there is anything worth saying at that point. For my part I kept picturing people trying to breathe with lungs full of cyanide, looks of panic, horror, etc. Just nuts. Our guide stood stolidly and quietly pointed to the holes in the celing where the cannisters of cyanide were pitched in.
Pictures were allowed outside of all the buildings and so we took plenty there.
After the crematorium the Auschwitz part of the tour was over (total time about 2.5 hours) and we had a few minutes to wander and use the bathrooms and then boarded the bus and headed over to Birkenau, which was essentially Auschwitz II, only much, much bigger.
Whereas Auschwitz details the specific horrors of the Nazis through exhibits, the power of Birkenau is really the sheer size of the camp. It is absolutely enormous, with rows and rows of prisoner barracks. Birkenau also features the the famous selection area, where prisoners rolled in on the cattle cars, and were immediately selected by Nazi doctors for work or the gas chamber. (About 75% were sent immediately to the chambers.) Unfortunately the day we were there everything was covered in snow so the railway tracks were only faintly visible.
The tour ended at Birkenau after a walk through some of the barracks and the accompanying tales of lice infested blankets, a lack of heating (augmented by the fact that we were all freezing despite full cold-weather gear, hats, gloves - only no one felt like complaining on this particular tour), and hideous sanitary conditions.
After the tour finished (only about 30 minutes at Birkenau) we got about 20 minutes to walk around on our own before boarding the bus again and heading back to Krakow. Gwen and I strolled the camp, fought the blizzard, and snapped a few more pictures. I just tried to take everything in. Then we headed back to the bus. It was a quiet ride back.
Just an amazing place to see.
I'm really glad I got to experience the tour and I think it's something everyone should see. It's obviously very disturbing but also valuable and incredibly powerful. Amidst the characterizations of unspeakable horrors there are tales of individual courage and heroism from the prisoners which helps put things in perspective. The museum/memorial is incredibly well done with the perfect amount of information (without being too much) alternating with visuals, exhibits, and facility exploration which tell the grim tale all too perfectly. Again, our guide was also fantastic - a huge plus.
The craziest thing about theHolocaust in my mind is just how systematized everything was. This is not the hot-blooded tribal genocide of Africa or the rag-tag ethnic cleansing of the Baltics or the chaotic slaughter in the middle east. Those too, are truly awful, don't get me wrong, but I think the Holocaust turns it up a notch because of just how "assembly line" everything was. This was a cold-blooded killing machine wrought from actual written policy. There were meetings about this. There were memorandums about this. There were "academic" debates on how best to do things. Corporations vied for the right to use "their" cyanide gas. Pharmaceutical corporations (including Bayer) tested products on prisoners. This is "civilized society" at work, making a plan, and carrying it out. To me that just makes this particular chapter in the dark annals of human history just a hair more gruesome.
After we got back to Krakow we walked the city square a bit and then headed off to another solid dinner. On Monday we made the return journey, which was a bit smoother.
Pictures of everything will follow. Auschwitz is worth ending on, but I figured I'd get back to a happy post mentality and I can see no better way to do it than the following.
The following is taken from the Krakow Guide Book. And it's AWESOME.
Wojtek the bear
"Fond of a bevvy and a fag [my note - the writer is British] Wojtek's habits weren't too different from your typical soldier, but typical he most certainly wasn't. Private Wojtek of the 22nd Polish Artillery Supply Complany was actually a six-foot Syrian brown bear who served alongside POlish soldiers during the 1944 Battle of Monte Cassino. Now, 45 years after his death, he finds himself once ore in the headlines as a campaign to have a monument honoring his life gathers pace.
So what's his story then. He joined the unit in 1943 as Polish troops advanced into Palestine. Accounts differ how the soldiers came upon him, though it's understood he was adopted as a homeless cub and weaned on condensed milk poured from a vodka bottle. Affectionately christeneded Wojtek he slept and worked alongside the men, helping in the transport of live shells and boxes of ammunition to artillery positions. Fed on a diet of marmalade and honey it wasn't long before Wojtek started assuming human traits, including the love of a smoke and a beer - his rewards for a good day's work. More than just a mascot Wojtek became a reliable member of his unit, mastering the controls of the shower hut, and once allegedly capturing an Arab spy hiding in the camp. With his unit reassigned to servie in the Italian campaign the soldiers faced the prospect of losing a loyal and valued comrade. The only loophole was to enlist him, and so it was Wojtek was entered into the Polish army, complete with name, number, identity and ration papers. His unit was deployed to Monte Cassino, and handed the unenviable task of resupplying Allied troops pinned down by German gunfire. It was in the these hellish conditions Wojtek earned his spurs, never once dropping a shell. His bravery was recognized by high command who changed the insignia of the 22nd Company to depict a bear carrying crates of ammo.
By all accounts Wojtek was a bit a of a social animal; during breaks in combat he would wrestle with hi sPolish mates, often clamping their heads in his jaws. He was a voracious tea drinker, sometimes taking his brew with a nip of vodka, and nor was he averse to clandestine raids on the field canteen.
Come the end of the war the company was redeployed to Berwickshire in Scotland, and it didn't take long for the legend of Wojtek to spread. Local farmhand Jock Pringle recalls his run-ins with the soldier bear: "He had two bottles of beer a aday and loved a fag, though it had to be lit for him. If it wasn't lit he'd spit it back out on his paws. He'd have one puff and then swallow it."
Finally in 1947 his unit was demobilized, and Wojtek was placed in the care of the Edinburgh zoo where he became a cult attraction. His former comrades would occasionally visit him, flinging cigarettes his way, conversing in Polish to him, and even jumping into his enclosure to grapple with their old friend. Although the subject of a book and memorial following his death in 1963 Wojtek's memory had been in danger of fading. That was until this year when he hit the headlines once more. Edinburgh locals are campaigning for a memorial to go up in his honour, while a new book and documentary about his life are due to be released shortly. This time round it looks like his legacy is here to stay."
Awesome. So let me get this straight? The Polish Army adopted a bear who fought alongside them against Nazi's, caught a spy in their camp, liked cigarettes and beer, and would routinely "wrassle" with his mates?
Ladies and Gentleman, I think I have a new personal favorite story. Let's put it this way: Take how horrible the entire existence of Auschwitz was. Now flip that 180 degrees. That's how AWESOME the story of Wojtek is.
I think my work is done here - told you I'd end on a good note.
Time for Pics.
This post sort of reflects the trip - goofy then sobering. But I'll go ahead and end it on a positive note.
Friday
When Gwen and I take these trips it usually amounts to two days of traveling (Friday and Monday) and two days, three nights of actual city sightseeing. For some reason it was kind of a grind to get to Krakow. We hopped in the car early on Friday, drove two hours to the Stuttgart airport (rather than the closer Frankfurt), watched our flight get delayed an hour (watching coverage of the Buffalo plane crash in that time), finally got on the plane and took the two hour flight, landed at the remote airport which turned out to be two hours from Krakow, got confused at the archaic shuttle system and tried to figure it out while wandering outside like Siberian nomads in a swirling blizzard, finally figured it out and hopped onto a two-hour crammed "bus" ride (it was more like a minivan modified with an extra row of seats, thus eliminating any leg room, and chairs with necks at a 20 degree forward angle), got into the main bus terminal in Krakow, wandered around in the same blizzard conditions looking for a surprisingly hard to find taxi, realized our driver had the exact same haircut as Ivan Drago in Rocky IV (had a flat top you could land a plane on), and then finally made it to our hotel some 11 hours after we started the day. It was a little ridiculous in retrospect.
(In order to up the annoying ante for poor Gwendolyn, I had Beck's "Hell Yes" (from the Guero album) stuck in my head and kept singing it, only I would replace the words from the catchy chorus with those corresponding to our situation.
"HELL YES. Now our flight is delayed; now we're boarding the plane. HELL YES." )
I mentioned the snow, which is important because it became a constant feature of the entire weekend - it was dumping snow just about the entire time we were there. This kind of thing is great for trips to the Alps and skiing, but for sightseeing it can kind of hinder things, and it seemed we were constantly trudging through slush and bracing ourselves against brisk winds and heavy flakes.
So Friday was a long day. Luckily one of the well reviewed restaurants was right in our hotel (the Radisson, which as a chain tend to be much better in Europe), so exhausted we just sort of ambled down to dinner and had at it. The dinner was actually a buffet (but a good one), and it came with free wine, so the wait staff just kept filling the glasses. By the end of the meal both of us were feeling it pretty good and Gwen was actually fairly sauced, unintentionally. She even had the spins (which she almost never gets).
Drunk, we collapsed in the hotel room and watched "Flavor of Love" on Polish MTV, a horrid show which I had heard of but never seen. For some reason though, all we could do was keep watching. We couldn't turn it off. I couldn't stop wondering how anybody could be possibly be attracted in the slightest to Flava Flav. For the most part I hate TV, especially reality TV.
Saturday
Saturday we decided to go to the nearby and famous Wieliczka salt mine (which is actually a UNESCO world heritage site). This turned out to be a good decision because it a) was a cool place, b) got us out of the weather, and c) gave me ample opportunity to tune up my "stupid game" for my upcoming San Diego visit (Oh I'm ready E.).
You can read about the mine here.
I mention the stupid game because I couldn't stop quoting the Lord of the Rings - the part in Fellowship where they enter the mines of Moria, and before they realize it's actually a tomb, Gimli is singing its praises. The quote goes like this:
"Soon Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone. And they call it a mine - A MINE!"
Anyway, poor Gwendolyn had to suffer through me saying this line, no kidding, at least 50 times as we prepared for, underwent, and completed the three hour tour of the mine. That last part (they call it a mine - a MINE!) was the real kicker. I'd give myself 60 quotings of that part (all with full inflection) easy.
After the mines we returned to the city and wandered around in yet another blizzard to briefly see the castle in Krakow. But by then it was getting cold and dark and we headed back to the hotel to prepare for dinner.
Polish food features a number of meat and pork products and famously pierogies which are kind of like oily potato raviolis (with variations). They are quite good - if not so good for you.
I give the Polish beer about a solid B by European standards (a tough scale). Not bad, but not as good as German beer (A-minus to A) and certainly not as good as Belgian beer (A plus).
After dinner Gwen and I retired to the room again, and this time got stuck watching "Rock of Love" with Bret Michaels. We hated this show. And yet again we couldn't turn it off. And thus we hated ourselves. (The only plus? Euro-MTV sub-titles the show and doesn't edit the swears so everyone is cursing their head off bleep-free.) Did I mention I hate TV?
Sunday
Sunday was our self-styled Happy Fun Day, which we jokingly called our tour to Auschwitz right up until the point when the tour actually started and then all joking abruptly ceased and was replaced by sober sighs and grimaces.
Gwen signed us up for a group tour of Auschwitz, which began at our hotel where a bus picked us up to start the day. The bus ride out to the camp is about an hour and after a short introduction from our tour guide we spent that hour watching a 30-minute documentary on the horrors of Nazi Germany and more specifically the horrors of the sadistic camp itself. The film was not surprisingly a real downer and even before we arrived I gave Gwendolyn a "this is going to be a long day" look.
Finally we arrived and then we were off the bus and into the front office. We picked up our headsets (which the tour guide spoke to us through) and headed off into the camp.
Right away we were led through the infamous "Arbeit Mach Frei" gate. The translated phrase is "Work sets you free" which of course resides atop the list of world's all time sickest jokes. From there we marched around to all the different buildings of the camp. Most of the ones we toured were the original buildings but were set up in a museum form with simple-but-powerful exhibitions detailing the camp's nefarious activities. Occasionally we'd wander through buildings left largely intact to detail where exactly torture and other such things took place.
Our guide was Polish but spoke excellent English and was really very good; (I would say she was the second or third best guide I've had for anything in Europe, right after the guy who did the "Walking Tour of the Third Reich" in Munich (who was easily number one) and maybe even better than the French guy from the Ric Steve's book who did a walking tour of Paris for Gwen, Pete, and I.) She had a great subdued tone, speaking clearly and simply stating the facts without embellishing. These issues need no embellishing of course, and the clarity of fact and picture in this case is really all that needs to be heard or seen. She did an awesome job and seeing as in my experience a guide can really make or break a tour experience, I was very thankful we had her.
The list of rooms, exhibitions, sights, and places we were taken throughout the camp reads like a Clive Barker novel. Things start with displays detailing simple facts about the camp, how it was built (by Soviet POWs), the number of prisoners (a lot), the years of operation (1941-1945), and of course the estimated number of those murdered (about 1.5 million, 90% Jews). There are dark pictures of guards, prisoners, the "selection" process at the train tracks, and everything else associated with Auschwitz. Next is a large scale model of a crematorium detailing the entire process of the gas chamber. Things get worse from there, as you're led past a room filled with 1950 kg of human hair (shaved off victims, particularly women, and which after gassing was typically sent to textile factories - they even had a rug made by the Nazis from mostly human hair, you could sees the frayed strands - yeesh). Next up is a room full of baggage and belongings discarded after arrival, testaments of broken and shattered lives of thousands. Then a macarbe room which tells about Dr. Mengele's medical experiments. Then there's the room of shoes with thousands upon thousands of discarded shoes from prisoners. Really sobering, dark stuff, just walking past this. Finally they have a portion dedicated to children where then have cases full of childrens' toys, shoes, pictures, and clothes from those murdered. That was probably the worst for me, seeing toddler sweaters and toys in a glass case, knowing that not even the little tykes were spared from the chambers. Often, as the guide pointed out, since they couldn't work, they were the first ones in.
The next building was a torture house, in which you're led past actual starvation stalls (people simply left to die, no food or water given) and the so called "standing stalls" in which four people were crammed into 4 x 4 foot stalls and left standing next to each other for a week or more, again without provisions. In this building was a small trial room where prisoners in violation of camp rules were tried (all found guilty), and sent immediately outside to be shot. And thus the tour also continues outside at that point, so everyone can take in the "Wall of Death" where countless thousands were murdered by single shots to the head.
Next it's on to the only remaining crematorium, which was ironically the first one. (After it was deemed that this one was too small, and thus inefficient for mass killing, the Nazis built several more at Birkenau down the road, but they destroyed them prior to abandoning the camp.) The tour actually takes you through the crematorium itself, so that you go into the changing room (where prisoners were told to get naked for the "showers"), then the gas chamber itself (complete with holes in the ceiling where the Zyklon B was pitched in) and then onto the crematorium where the bodies were burned (after the hair was shaved and collected and all the gold filling removed from the mouths of the corpses, of course).
As you can tell, this was dark, dark stuff. Very sobering. Very hard to believe that you're actually standing in a gas chamber where thousands died. Just madness.
Unfortunately there were no pictures allowed inside the buildings or inside the crematorium. Also, when walking through the crematorium, there is a strict silence code as well given that the place is technically a memorial. Not that there is anything worth saying at that point. For my part I kept picturing people trying to breathe with lungs full of cyanide, looks of panic, horror, etc. Just nuts. Our guide stood stolidly and quietly pointed to the holes in the celing where the cannisters of cyanide were pitched in.
Pictures were allowed outside of all the buildings and so we took plenty there.
After the crematorium the Auschwitz part of the tour was over (total time about 2.5 hours) and we had a few minutes to wander and use the bathrooms and then boarded the bus and headed over to Birkenau, which was essentially Auschwitz II, only much, much bigger.
Whereas Auschwitz details the specific horrors of the Nazis through exhibits, the power of Birkenau is really the sheer size of the camp. It is absolutely enormous, with rows and rows of prisoner barracks. Birkenau also features the the famous selection area, where prisoners rolled in on the cattle cars, and were immediately selected by Nazi doctors for work or the gas chamber. (About 75% were sent immediately to the chambers.) Unfortunately the day we were there everything was covered in snow so the railway tracks were only faintly visible.
The tour ended at Birkenau after a walk through some of the barracks and the accompanying tales of lice infested blankets, a lack of heating (augmented by the fact that we were all freezing despite full cold-weather gear, hats, gloves - only no one felt like complaining on this particular tour), and hideous sanitary conditions.
After the tour finished (only about 30 minutes at Birkenau) we got about 20 minutes to walk around on our own before boarding the bus again and heading back to Krakow. Gwen and I strolled the camp, fought the blizzard, and snapped a few more pictures. I just tried to take everything in. Then we headed back to the bus. It was a quiet ride back.
Just an amazing place to see.
I'm really glad I got to experience the tour and I think it's something everyone should see. It's obviously very disturbing but also valuable and incredibly powerful. Amidst the characterizations of unspeakable horrors there are tales of individual courage and heroism from the prisoners which helps put things in perspective. The museum/memorial is incredibly well done with the perfect amount of information (without being too much) alternating with visuals, exhibits, and facility exploration which tell the grim tale all too perfectly. Again, our guide was also fantastic - a huge plus.
The craziest thing about theHolocaust in my mind is just how systematized everything was. This is not the hot-blooded tribal genocide of Africa or the rag-tag ethnic cleansing of the Baltics or the chaotic slaughter in the middle east. Those too, are truly awful, don't get me wrong, but I think the Holocaust turns it up a notch because of just how "assembly line" everything was. This was a cold-blooded killing machine wrought from actual written policy. There were meetings about this. There were memorandums about this. There were "academic" debates on how best to do things. Corporations vied for the right to use "their" cyanide gas. Pharmaceutical corporations (including Bayer) tested products on prisoners. This is "civilized society" at work, making a plan, and carrying it out. To me that just makes this particular chapter in the dark annals of human history just a hair more gruesome.
After we got back to Krakow we walked the city square a bit and then headed off to another solid dinner. On Monday we made the return journey, which was a bit smoother.
Pictures of everything will follow. Auschwitz is worth ending on, but I figured I'd get back to a happy post mentality and I can see no better way to do it than the following.
The following is taken from the Krakow Guide Book. And it's AWESOME.
Wojtek the bear
"Fond of a bevvy and a fag [my note - the writer is British] Wojtek's habits weren't too different from your typical soldier, but typical he most certainly wasn't. Private Wojtek of the 22nd Polish Artillery Supply Complany was actually a six-foot Syrian brown bear who served alongside POlish soldiers during the 1944 Battle of Monte Cassino. Now, 45 years after his death, he finds himself once ore in the headlines as a campaign to have a monument honoring his life gathers pace.
So what's his story then. He joined the unit in 1943 as Polish troops advanced into Palestine. Accounts differ how the soldiers came upon him, though it's understood he was adopted as a homeless cub and weaned on condensed milk poured from a vodka bottle. Affectionately christeneded Wojtek he slept and worked alongside the men, helping in the transport of live shells and boxes of ammunition to artillery positions. Fed on a diet of marmalade and honey it wasn't long before Wojtek started assuming human traits, including the love of a smoke and a beer - his rewards for a good day's work. More than just a mascot Wojtek became a reliable member of his unit, mastering the controls of the shower hut, and once allegedly capturing an Arab spy hiding in the camp. With his unit reassigned to servie in the Italian campaign the soldiers faced the prospect of losing a loyal and valued comrade. The only loophole was to enlist him, and so it was Wojtek was entered into the Polish army, complete with name, number, identity and ration papers. His unit was deployed to Monte Cassino, and handed the unenviable task of resupplying Allied troops pinned down by German gunfire. It was in the these hellish conditions Wojtek earned his spurs, never once dropping a shell. His bravery was recognized by high command who changed the insignia of the 22nd Company to depict a bear carrying crates of ammo.
By all accounts Wojtek was a bit a of a social animal; during breaks in combat he would wrestle with hi sPolish mates, often clamping their heads in his jaws. He was a voracious tea drinker, sometimes taking his brew with a nip of vodka, and nor was he averse to clandestine raids on the field canteen.
Come the end of the war the company was redeployed to Berwickshire in Scotland, and it didn't take long for the legend of Wojtek to spread. Local farmhand Jock Pringle recalls his run-ins with the soldier bear: "He had two bottles of beer a aday and loved a fag, though it had to be lit for him. If it wasn't lit he'd spit it back out on his paws. He'd have one puff and then swallow it."
Finally in 1947 his unit was demobilized, and Wojtek was placed in the care of the Edinburgh zoo where he became a cult attraction. His former comrades would occasionally visit him, flinging cigarettes his way, conversing in Polish to him, and even jumping into his enclosure to grapple with their old friend. Although the subject of a book and memorial following his death in 1963 Wojtek's memory had been in danger of fading. That was until this year when he hit the headlines once more. Edinburgh locals are campaigning for a memorial to go up in his honour, while a new book and documentary about his life are due to be released shortly. This time round it looks like his legacy is here to stay."
Awesome. So let me get this straight? The Polish Army adopted a bear who fought alongside them against Nazi's, caught a spy in their camp, liked cigarettes and beer, and would routinely "wrassle" with his mates?
Ladies and Gentleman, I think I have a new personal favorite story. Let's put it this way: Take how horrible the entire existence of Auschwitz was. Now flip that 180 degrees. That's how AWESOME the story of Wojtek is.
I think my work is done here - told you I'd end on a good note.
Time for Pics.
 |
| Krakow- Feb 09 |
Blogging has screeched to a halt
Three reasons:
1)Work
2)Madden Online
3)Quake Live (thanks Adam)
See you when these three don't suck up all my time.
Toodles!
1)Work
2)Madden Online
3)Quake Live (thanks Adam)
See you when these three don't suck up all my time.
Toodles!
All Hail "Six-Burgh"
Gwen and I spent the wee hours of Super Bowl Sunday in GMT+1 watching the Steelers rise, then fall, then rise again in Super Bowl 43.
The game marked the sixth Super Bowl Title for Burgh, but more importantly marked the end of live football viewing in Man Room (barring me watching the Pro Bowl at 3 am next weekend which ain't happening).
I thought the game was good but I was fretting for Gwendolyn's sake, especially when the Cardinals pulled back all the momentum in the fourth quarter. Still, not a half bad way to end two solid years of Man Room football viewing. Man Room was very kind to us in two seasons of NFL viewership (the first two years we were in Europe we watched at Gwen's house, though a full season for her and partial season for me were spent watching from Iraq) with both the G-men and Steelers hauling in Super Bowl rings. The aura of Man Room will be greatly missed.
What will not be missed is staying up through the wee hours of night just to watch live football. For the Super Bowl this time, I made the critical mistake of forsaking a much needed pre-game nap in order to get in a few more hours of Team Fortress 2, a move which proved painful in the second half of the Super Bowl, which I endured with a skull-splitting headache and anoverwhelming sense of fatigue. Far more than for the Steelers, I was rooting for the game to not go to overtime.
And now, the offseason. A time to relax, reflect, and yet still refresh the NFL section on espn.com about four times a day looking for any scrap or update of NFL news. Yes, that's my offseason.
Plus now I'll have more time for Madden.
The game marked the sixth Super Bowl Title for Burgh, but more importantly marked the end of live football viewing in Man Room (barring me watching the Pro Bowl at 3 am next weekend which ain't happening).
I thought the game was good but I was fretting for Gwendolyn's sake, especially when the Cardinals pulled back all the momentum in the fourth quarter. Still, not a half bad way to end two solid years of Man Room football viewing. Man Room was very kind to us in two seasons of NFL viewership (the first two years we were in Europe we watched at Gwen's house, though a full season for her and partial season for me were spent watching from Iraq) with both the G-men and Steelers hauling in Super Bowl rings. The aura of Man Room will be greatly missed.
What will not be missed is staying up through the wee hours of night just to watch live football. For the Super Bowl this time, I made the critical mistake of forsaking a much needed pre-game nap in order to get in a few more hours of Team Fortress 2, a move which proved painful in the second half of the Super Bowl, which I endured with a skull-splitting headache and anoverwhelming sense of fatigue. Far more than for the Steelers, I was rooting for the game to not go to overtime.
And now, the offseason. A time to relax, reflect, and yet still refresh the NFL section on espn.com about four times a day looking for any scrap or update of NFL news. Yes, that's my offseason.
Plus now I'll have more time for Madden.
Super Bowl Sunday
Before Friday I worked seven full days that were long and difficult. As I mentioned on the moderately insidious Facebook, I'm officially tired of working every third weekend. Landstuhl currently has seven internists, with only 3 permanent party, and only 3 of us currently do the primary ward attending. As such our call on day shifts for the wards, which runs seven days at a time, is precisely every third week. And though on the weekdays we use a much needed second hospitalist, the weekends are all our own.
That means every third weekend (on average; occasionally it's every other, occasionally every fourth, depending) I'm on call all weekend, taking admissions from 7:30 to 4:30 and also rounding on all the current inpatients. Our census is in the double digits, averaging about 12 these days I would guess, and has steadily increased in my time at Landstuhl.
Last week was very busy, and excluding Sunday where I got out of the hospital at a reasonable 5:30 pm (and saw 'Valkyrie' - see last post), I never left before 7 pm and on two nights I think I was there until after 9 pm. In those seven days of 'wards' I easily put in 85 hours. Lame. Doing this kind of thing every three weeks? Very lame.
This sort of schedule gets fatiguing and so while I enjoy working at Landstuhl in many respects I'm also looking forward to a new thing, presumably with a slightly better lifestyle.
Only five months left.
SUPER BOWL SUNDAY
Today is a national holiday, of course - Super Bowl Sunday. A year ago on this day I was lucky enough to watch my G-men dismantle the vaunted (and up until then undeafeated) New England Patriots in what was personally the best Super Bowl I've ever seen. Today I'm a little sad that the Giants won't be defending their title, but what can you do?
Gwen got me a nice Giants Super Bowl DVD for Christmas which has 612 minutes of footage including the season finale against the Patriots, all the playoff games, and of course the Super Bowl of Super Bowls.
Today, I rewatched the Giants victory with a cup of coffee in my hand and a big grin on my face. Last year I watched the game in Man Room with a ridiculous combination of stress and exhiliration, and it was cool rewatching the game today thinking back on both the game itself and my reaction to certain plays.
When Tyree made the "Helmet Catch" I was jumping up and down so wildly that I landed on a PS3 controller and crushed it. I'm pretty sure I'll be framing that thing and hanging it someday - in a future Man Room in California perhaps - beneath a glossy 8x11 photo of said catch.
Eli Manning was selected the Super Bowl MVP, but aside from his never-say-die fourth quarter antics (which were not as impressive as I recalled), his performance was actually not that great. As typical for Eli, he missed some key passes, forced some balls into tight coverage, and actual passes which even resemble spirals are few and far between. He was aided by great line play, some tough grabs by the receivers, some dropped picks from Pats defenders, and most of all by a defense that played out of its mind.
It's tough to award the MVP to a defensive player but in watching that game again I think they should have, at least to symbolically reflect the defensive's performance. Justin Tuck would have been a fine choice - in the first half alone he had six tackles, two sacks, and a forced fumble. By the early second half Brady was starting to throw erratically even when there wasn't pressure, and by the end of the fourth quarter I'm pretty sure he was tired of wearing his helmet sideways.
Thinking back, the Giant defense somehow held the Best Offense in History to just 14 points, a remarkable feat and I think the MVP should have awarded in that general direction. Perhaps a generic D-line MVP would have been most appropriate, since those boys were constantly up in Brady's smug grill.
This year the big game will feature the Steelers and the Cardinals. Most years when the Giants aren't involved I have an interesting choice to make as to who to root for. I get no such luxury this year, and even though Gwendolyn isn't near me as I type this, I can feel her glaring eye from afar, an eye which would begin to pulsate with rage should I even consider rooting for the Cardinals.
In seeking to find good reason to root against the Cardinals, I'm finding it is a difficult thing to do. They don't have annoying players, I love Larry Fitzgerald's game, and I'm a Kurt Warner fan from way back - he's a good man and the guy won me a couple of fantasy titles in years past, and that's not something I'll easily forget.
If there's one reason to root against Kurt and his boys today, it's because if he wins he will launch into his horrifically tacky "This is all thanks to Jesus" speech which is something I cannot stand in the venue of sports. I know it is probably intended to be a "selfless" act of thanks, but I actually find it on the contrary to be incredibly selfish.
If Kurt is a religious man that is fine with me, and if he receives joy from that or acts on Christian principles to enrich himself and others, hey great. But to invoke the Almighty in the setting of a football game just makes me shake my head. Whenever someone does it, I just see it as so ridiculously shallow. When "This is all thanks to Jesus" comes out, here is what else I hear in that phrase:
-"Jesus wanted US to win, not them"
-"Thank Jesus that Ben Roethlisberger missed his open receivers"
-"Thank Jesus that Hines Ward has a knee injury and isn't 100 percent"
-"Thank Jesus that James Harrison missed that tackle - I guess that guy isn't a good person like me, who deserves this."
And so on. It drives me nuts. Something tells me that Kurt's savior Jesus has far more important tasks in front of Him than helping Anquan Boldin break downfield tackles and propelling the Cardinals to a Super Bowl title.
If Kurt finds strength in his faith - great. But don't trivialize such a thing by assuming it to be important in the outcome of what is essentially just a damn football game, especially when the tone of any such "thanks" statement is so "If the other team believed in Jesus just a little more, they would be holding this trophy but since I'm such a big Jesus guy - it's mine". I just think that's ridiculous.
You might as well call for a Jihaad on the other team at that point (like I do on a weekly basis with the Cowboys).
In any event, go Steelers.
That means every third weekend (on average; occasionally it's every other, occasionally every fourth, depending) I'm on call all weekend, taking admissions from 7:30 to 4:30 and also rounding on all the current inpatients. Our census is in the double digits, averaging about 12 these days I would guess, and has steadily increased in my time at Landstuhl.
Last week was very busy, and excluding Sunday where I got out of the hospital at a reasonable 5:30 pm (and saw 'Valkyrie' - see last post), I never left before 7 pm and on two nights I think I was there until after 9 pm. In those seven days of 'wards' I easily put in 85 hours. Lame. Doing this kind of thing every three weeks? Very lame.
This sort of schedule gets fatiguing and so while I enjoy working at Landstuhl in many respects I'm also looking forward to a new thing, presumably with a slightly better lifestyle.
Only five months left.
SUPER BOWL SUNDAY
Today is a national holiday, of course - Super Bowl Sunday. A year ago on this day I was lucky enough to watch my G-men dismantle the vaunted (and up until then undeafeated) New England Patriots in what was personally the best Super Bowl I've ever seen. Today I'm a little sad that the Giants won't be defending their title, but what can you do?
Gwen got me a nice Giants Super Bowl DVD for Christmas which has 612 minutes of footage including the season finale against the Patriots, all the playoff games, and of course the Super Bowl of Super Bowls.
Today, I rewatched the Giants victory with a cup of coffee in my hand and a big grin on my face. Last year I watched the game in Man Room with a ridiculous combination of stress and exhiliration, and it was cool rewatching the game today thinking back on both the game itself and my reaction to certain plays.
When Tyree made the "Helmet Catch" I was jumping up and down so wildly that I landed on a PS3 controller and crushed it. I'm pretty sure I'll be framing that thing and hanging it someday - in a future Man Room in California perhaps - beneath a glossy 8x11 photo of said catch.
Eli Manning was selected the Super Bowl MVP, but aside from his never-say-die fourth quarter antics (which were not as impressive as I recalled), his performance was actually not that great. As typical for Eli, he missed some key passes, forced some balls into tight coverage, and actual passes which even resemble spirals are few and far between. He was aided by great line play, some tough grabs by the receivers, some dropped picks from Pats defenders, and most of all by a defense that played out of its mind.
It's tough to award the MVP to a defensive player but in watching that game again I think they should have, at least to symbolically reflect the defensive's performance. Justin Tuck would have been a fine choice - in the first half alone he had six tackles, two sacks, and a forced fumble. By the early second half Brady was starting to throw erratically even when there wasn't pressure, and by the end of the fourth quarter I'm pretty sure he was tired of wearing his helmet sideways.
Thinking back, the Giant defense somehow held the Best Offense in History to just 14 points, a remarkable feat and I think the MVP should have awarded in that general direction. Perhaps a generic D-line MVP would have been most appropriate, since those boys were constantly up in Brady's smug grill.
This year the big game will feature the Steelers and the Cardinals. Most years when the Giants aren't involved I have an interesting choice to make as to who to root for. I get no such luxury this year, and even though Gwendolyn isn't near me as I type this, I can feel her glaring eye from afar, an eye which would begin to pulsate with rage should I even consider rooting for the Cardinals.
In seeking to find good reason to root against the Cardinals, I'm finding it is a difficult thing to do. They don't have annoying players, I love Larry Fitzgerald's game, and I'm a Kurt Warner fan from way back - he's a good man and the guy won me a couple of fantasy titles in years past, and that's not something I'll easily forget.
If there's one reason to root against Kurt and his boys today, it's because if he wins he will launch into his horrifically tacky "This is all thanks to Jesus" speech which is something I cannot stand in the venue of sports. I know it is probably intended to be a "selfless" act of thanks, but I actually find it on the contrary to be incredibly selfish.
If Kurt is a religious man that is fine with me, and if he receives joy from that or acts on Christian principles to enrich himself and others, hey great. But to invoke the Almighty in the setting of a football game just makes me shake my head. Whenever someone does it, I just see it as so ridiculously shallow. When "This is all thanks to Jesus" comes out, here is what else I hear in that phrase:
-"Jesus wanted US to win, not them"
-"Thank Jesus that Ben Roethlisberger missed his open receivers"
-"Thank Jesus that Hines Ward has a knee injury and isn't 100 percent"
-"Thank Jesus that James Harrison missed that tackle - I guess that guy isn't a good person like me, who deserves this."
And so on. It drives me nuts. Something tells me that Kurt's savior Jesus has far more important tasks in front of Him than helping Anquan Boldin break downfield tackles and propelling the Cardinals to a Super Bowl title.
If Kurt finds strength in his faith - great. But don't trivialize such a thing by assuming it to be important in the outcome of what is essentially just a damn football game, especially when the tone of any such "thanks" statement is so "If the other team believed in Jesus just a little more, they would be holding this trophy but since I'm such a big Jesus guy - it's mine". I just think that's ridiculous.
You might as well call for a Jihaad on the other team at that point (like I do on a weekly basis with the Cowboys).
In any event, go Steelers.
I'm Tom Cruise you son of a bitch
"Hitler - you DON'T complete me."
So at my urging Gwen and I saw "Valkyrie" tonight.
I will admit I was sort of irrationally fired up to see Valkyrie. The thing is, I love World War II, and I especially love the European Theater and all things involving Nazi Germany. Well not ALL things but you get the point. I've been hooked a long time - I even sat down and read "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich" a while back. It's a 1500 page book, and one with small print and few pictures - that's how much I love World War II and the Germany of that era. Plus, I like Bryan Singer. He's got a few good flicks under his belt, and so I thought what the hell?
Despite being a tad overexcited, I knew that Tom Cruise could very well hold this movie back. I saw this blurb from a critic on Rotten Tomatoes before going in:
"Think of Valkyrie as a reasonably entertaining drama about the time Tom Cruise tried to kill Hitler. Do that, and it becomes possible to enjoy the movie."
That about perfectly sums things up.
My favorite thing about Tom Cruise is that any time you watch a movie with him, you can be absolutely sure he'll be playing Tom Cruise, Movie Star. Even in Tropic Thunder, where they tried hiding him under sixty pounds of fleshy make-up, he still came shining through as Tom Cruise.
So what would it be like if Maverick ("That's right - Hitler - I am dangerous"), or Cole Trickle ("There's nothin' I can't do with a time bomb"), or Jerry Maguire (above), or Ethan Hunt ("Hitler - you've never seen me very upset"), or Tom Cruise had tried to kill Hitler?
Well thanks to Valkyrie now we know. With curt nods, perfect posture, and the ever present uber-precise I'm-losing-my-patience-with-you diction, Cruise's incarnation of Colonel Von Staffenburg is so Tom Cruise it's as if Lord Xenu himself had used his vast powers over time and space to project cruise back to 1940's Germany in a plot to kill Hitler.
The good thing about most movies with Tom Cruise is that after a few shakes of the head and silent giggles in the beginning of the movie (all because you can't believe Tom Cruise, Movie Star, is trying to pretend he's someone else - especially a German Wermacht Colonel without the slightest trace of German in his voice), you eventually forget about it, or just accept him, or whatever. And it becomes less of a big deal.
And then you settle in and enjoy the movie, which is overall actually pretty good, and ends well despite the known outcome. In Rise and Fall, there were a few pages dedicated to this particular chapter in Nazi Germany and it was kind of cool to see how much time they put into making things as historically accurate as possible. For example, Hiter's life was literally saved by a thick wooden table leg on that occasion.
The rest of the movie, save Cruise who plays himself (which he does well), is very well acted, thanks in part to the host of British character actors who were brought in to play, ironically, a host of German officers. Most impressively, Terence Stamp - aka the one and only General Zod - plays General Beck, who, while not nearly as cool or powerful as Zod, still has his heart in the right place. Hey look, when General Zod throws his weight behind a plot to kill Hitler, I do too - that's my policy. I'm sure that's how they rallied lots of folks to their cause.
Hitler himself and his inner circle have quite the creepy vibe going on (especially Joseph Goebbels) and more or less get the job done, though at times it might be toned up just a hair, like when Hitler strokes a huge (and suprisingly ugly) German Shepherd's muzzle with a Dr. Evil sort of grin on his face. I'm sure that's just how he was in all his staff meetings.
Anyway, I give it a B. I liked it, I got what I expected, I was never bored, and I got to watch a well-produced movie set in Nazy Germany. Oh, and I got to see Tom Cruise.
I will now kneel before Zod.
General Zod didn't like Superman OR Hitler.
Coldplay Wins
I think it was back in August of 2008, while I was in San Diego actually, that I first heard "Viva La Vida" from Cold play.
I'm sad to admit but this song (which grew to ridiculous popularity and was overplayed exhaustively) for whatever reason cast some sort of dark spell on me and still refuses to let go.
I couldn't get enough when it first came out. I still can't.
Every time it comes on - in the car, in an airport, on TV, in a movie theater, anywhere - my head starts bobbing, I start singing - it's over. I'm totally into it. And I've made a habit of singing it all too often.
...which drives Gwen nuts.
So now it's become a fun game of "Oh yeah, I haven't sung Coldplay in a while!" followed by me starting to hum, then bob my head, then sing the lines ("I used to rule the world...."). All this usually concludes with Gwen's reaction of "NoooooooO! Not AGAIN!"
Good times.
Well I hadn't sung it in a while and tonight I suddenly thought of it. Sitting next to Gwen and her laptop, I just gave up and downloaded it from iTunes on my laptop, and then played it with a broad smile, while head-bobbing in the general direction of the now demoralized Gwendolyn, who proceeded to bang her head into the table repeatedly. I even did my little dance to it and everything.
"The King is Dead...long live the King..."
"For some reason I can't explain, I know Pete's Sweet Taint won't call my name..."
So many good lines. I'm hooked.
So's Gwendolyn - in a different way.
That was when I ruled the world...
I'm sad to admit but this song (which grew to ridiculous popularity and was overplayed exhaustively) for whatever reason cast some sort of dark spell on me and still refuses to let go.
I couldn't get enough when it first came out. I still can't.
Every time it comes on - in the car, in an airport, on TV, in a movie theater, anywhere - my head starts bobbing, I start singing - it's over. I'm totally into it. And I've made a habit of singing it all too often.
...which drives Gwen nuts.
So now it's become a fun game of "Oh yeah, I haven't sung Coldplay in a while!" followed by me starting to hum, then bob my head, then sing the lines ("I used to rule the world...."). All this usually concludes with Gwen's reaction of "NoooooooO! Not AGAIN!"
Good times.
Well I hadn't sung it in a while and tonight I suddenly thought of it. Sitting next to Gwen and her laptop, I just gave up and downloaded it from iTunes on my laptop, and then played it with a broad smile, while head-bobbing in the general direction of the now demoralized Gwendolyn, who proceeded to bang her head into the table repeatedly. I even did my little dance to it and everything.
"The King is Dead...long live the King..."
"For some reason I can't explain, I know Pete's Sweet Taint won't call my name..."
So many good lines. I'm hooked.
So's Gwendolyn - in a different way.
That was when I ruled the world...
Out with the Old, In with the New
Despite my being sick the past the past few days and having a rough call night on Monday where I got very little sleep, and despite Gwen being on call all weekend, the past few days have been pretty good for the household.
The Steelers won, The Eagles lost, Bush is out, and Obama's in. Not too shabby from our perspective.
Yesterday was pretty cool. Gwen and I huddled around a laptop watching live streaming coverage of the inauguration while toasting champagne. I've honestly never been even close to as fired up for any political event as I have been for the Obama election win and yesterday's inauguration day. Just thinking about it still give me chills.
From the throngs of people on the Mall to the worldwide euphoria, it's just been a really cool thing to witness from a global perspective. I imagine for many it evoked memories of the JFK days, a time it seemed when many people were equally galvanized. Accoring to some poll, apparently 75% of the American population is "more optimistic about the nation's future" because of Obama, a record response to that inquiry on inauguration day. Pretty cool.
The only thing I remember about the last two inaugurations were rampant protesters - especially in 2005 when people were just sick at the sight of Bush. There was nothing there worth watching.
Speaking of ex-President Bush, there is an unfortunate-at-times rule which exists in the military, a rule stating something along the lines of "A Military Officer cannot criticize the President, who is Commander-in-Chief". It's no stretch to say that I've struggled with this rule over the past several years, and often when writing here actually, and I must admit I spent a part of the day today snidely querying my NCO's if it was "legal" to talk trash on Bush now that he's officially out. I've been told that it is.
To which I say only this before moving on: Good ****ing Riddance.
Watching him board that helicopter yesterday, leaving forever, was just another great sight to add to the day's memories. Surprisingly, footage of Dick Cheney in his TIE Fighter on his way back to the Death Star has not yet been released.
And so a new day begins.
There is a main hallway in Landstuhl, which has 8.5 x 11 framed portraits of the chain of command for the Army Medical Core, that Gwen and I walk by every day to get lunch. The pictures begin at the company command level, and next comes the hospital command. Then there's the leader of US Army Europe (medical), the Surgeon General of the Army, The Chief of Staff, the Secretary of the Army, the Secretary of Defense, and finally the President. For three and a half years Gwen and I have walked by this hall, and put up with the unfortunate picture of President Bush, sitting atop all the others, looking emptily out at us as we walked by. Well today when we walked by, there was a different picture on that wall. A far better picture.
Fired up.
The Steelers won, The Eagles lost, Bush is out, and Obama's in. Not too shabby from our perspective.
Yesterday was pretty cool. Gwen and I huddled around a laptop watching live streaming coverage of the inauguration while toasting champagne. I've honestly never been even close to as fired up for any political event as I have been for the Obama election win and yesterday's inauguration day. Just thinking about it still give me chills.
From the throngs of people on the Mall to the worldwide euphoria, it's just been a really cool thing to witness from a global perspective. I imagine for many it evoked memories of the JFK days, a time it seemed when many people were equally galvanized. Accoring to some poll, apparently 75% of the American population is "more optimistic about the nation's future" because of Obama, a record response to that inquiry on inauguration day. Pretty cool.
The only thing I remember about the last two inaugurations were rampant protesters - especially in 2005 when people were just sick at the sight of Bush. There was nothing there worth watching.
Speaking of ex-President Bush, there is an unfortunate-at-times rule which exists in the military, a rule stating something along the lines of "A Military Officer cannot criticize the President, who is Commander-in-Chief". It's no stretch to say that I've struggled with this rule over the past several years, and often when writing here actually, and I must admit I spent a part of the day today snidely querying my NCO's if it was "legal" to talk trash on Bush now that he's officially out. I've been told that it is.
To which I say only this before moving on: Good ****ing Riddance.
Watching him board that helicopter yesterday, leaving forever, was just another great sight to add to the day's memories. Surprisingly, footage of Dick Cheney in his TIE Fighter on his way back to the Death Star has not yet been released.
And so a new day begins.
There is a main hallway in Landstuhl, which has 8.5 x 11 framed portraits of the chain of command for the Army Medical Core, that Gwen and I walk by every day to get lunch. The pictures begin at the company command level, and next comes the hospital command. Then there's the leader of US Army Europe (medical), the Surgeon General of the Army, The Chief of Staff, the Secretary of the Army, the Secretary of Defense, and finally the President. For three and a half years Gwen and I have walked by this hall, and put up with the unfortunate picture of President Bush, sitting atop all the others, looking emptily out at us as we walked by. Well today when we walked by, there was a different picture on that wall. A far better picture.
Fired up.
Even at age 78, you don't mess with Clint Eastwood
Gwen and I don't get to to the movies like we used to, but we did manage to catch a screening of Gran Torino on Thursday, a film in which a 78-year old Clint Eastwood proves he's still tough enough to not take any guff from a variety of slack-jawed punks coming at him from all angles.
I didn't know too much about this film going in but all I really needed to hear was "Clint versus neighborhood punks" to get me into the theater.
Clint plays the very essence of a curmudgeon. He's a tough, surly, racist, literally snarling old war vet who's still living in about 1962. His neighborhood has evolved into an inner-city-esque pseudo-slum consisting of various immigrants who don't always get along, and Clint and his sweet Gran Torino find themselves caught in the middle of it.
The film is worth the price of admission just to witness Clint getting tough on some local punks (who couldn't use more of that?), specifically he dresses down a variety of neighborhood toughs (and everyone else) at steady intervals. Normally these instances would conclude with me turning toward Gwen and saying, "Schooled".
My favorite was him getting in the face of some white kid who's trying to look hip hop (i.e. black) and just letting him have it. High comedy. He spreads the schooling around pretty evenly, though, and no one is spared, not even his own kids or grand kids.
I enjoyed this movie but I know Gwen enjoyed it more. I had some issues with it, my two biggest concerns being that a)barely anyone else in the film could act in the same league with Clint, specifically the youth he befriends, thus leaving some scenes just ruined, and b)his transition from "eff the world" curmudgeon to relatively warm-hearted and caring man happened a little too quickly for me to believe.
So I would give it a solid "B". Again, the multiple schoolings of various punks alone make this movie worth a watch. Now I'm pumped to rewatch some old Clint westerns (and The Unforgiven) just to get me some more Clint time.
More Thoughts on Football
When I woke up this morning the awful stench of "Eagles 23 Giants 11" was still strong in the room and in my head. I went to work in a fog, I think. The Gollum/LOTR analogy from last post holds surprisingly true in my mind as I try to put this football season in perspective. I even contemplated putting on the Giants 2007 Super Bowl DVD this evening to try and make it all better.
A picture of me this morning
Here are some final thoughts on the 2008 Giants:
-As much as I wanted to buy into the Tom Coughlin team thing - and I still want to, and I still think it's important - it cannot be ignored that without Plexico Burress running around out there we finished our season at 1-5. As I said before, Plexico is a monster and a game-breaker and it seems all too clear now that he took Eli Manning, a very average quarterback, and made him into a "good" and, on rare occasion, a "very good" quarterback just by being on the field. Take away Plexico and it's back to average. Take away Plexico and put some wind in the meadowlands, and you are left with a duck-launcher, whom I'm tempted to call "Duck Master" forever more. (On a similar note, how funny is it that one of today's NFL headlines on ESPN read "Giants open to bringing Burress back next year". You think?)
-To me the G-men just seemed flat in this game. It's funny how much things come full circle. The Eagles just wanted it more. Last year the Giants just wanted it more, every time. Anyone who saw the Cardinals play on Saturday, THEY wanted it more too. It's funny how important that ends up being. There's just an intangible energy about the teams that are more fired up. The Giants looked flat; they seemed cocky, which hadn't been their style. And now they're done.
-If Eli hadn't thrown that awful pick in the first half the Eagles would have come away with just 3 points for the half and would have been in some trouble. Also if John Carney hadn't missed two field goals we still might have uglied our way into a win.
-In response to that last bullet: Scoreboard.
-What saddens me most about this loss is two things.
1)You only get so many years where you are "really good" and in a position to take it all. So even though we won it last year, which theoretically should keep me pleased regardless for several years, I can't help but feel that we squandered one of our potential "really good" years. Those windows can close remarkably fast.
2)Had we won it all this year, we would have been on the verge of being one of those "Decade" teams that people keep talking about. The 70's Steelers. 80's Niners. That sort of thing. We wouldn't have been there, but we would have been on the verge of being there. Too bad.
-I will be interested to see what the G-men do with Ward and Jacobs, two of their higher profile unrestricted free agents. If I'm running things, and I can only keep one, I keep Jacobs. He's one of a kind - there are other Wards out there. Especially with the Giant's sweet O-line.
There were other football games this weekend, and here are my thoughts on those:
Titans/Ravens
-I thought the Titans played better and should have won.
-I find it funny that the Titans ended up losing despite Kerry Collins making only a single mistake. He really played a great game.
-I thought the Titans lost a lost of steam when Chris Johnson was out of the line up. Going from the lightning quick "Light Blue Jesus" to the pear-bodied and waddly Lendale White isn't just a downshift in the running game; it's more like pulling the E-brake on the autobahn.
-The most disturbing thing about this game were the constant close shots of Chris Johnson' face on the sideline after he got hurt. These happened seemingly every two minutes the entire second half. What made them disturbing was the fact he was constantly twitching. After a while the twitches really started freaking me out. Maybe the producers too, because they started showing him less after a while. After seeing these for several minutes, I thought briefly Chris Johnson might actually be an android on the verge of going haywire. Which would also explain his freakish speed.
-I continue to dislike the Ravens. After that Super Bowl in 2000, I will never like them.
Cardinals/Panthers
In case you missed it, here's a good recap of the Panther's performance, specifically Jake Delhomme's: (Only slight less applicable to the Giants and the Titans.)
-I can't believe how bad Carolina crapped the bed. They were simply mauled. I enjoyed watching this game.
-The Cardinals actually impressed me for two weeks in a row now. Their defense is really flying all over the place. The Eagles better not let up for this team.
-This game was on Fox and was called by Kenny Albert, Darryl Johnston, and the godawful Tony Siragusa. "The Goose" is a field reporter who is constantly saying dumb things, tripping over his own words, and basically sounding like an ass every time he opens his mouth (remind you of anyone leaving their current position in politics next week?). Anyway, on a replay of an interception in the endzone (one of Delhomme's fifteen picks in this game) early in the fourth quarter, I saw that Goose, despite being a mere seven yards away from the action (standing at the back of that very endzone where the action was occurring), had his BACK TURNED and was instead watching the game on a flat screen TV right there. On the screen was the same telecast that we at home were watching. I found this absolutely ridiculous. Fox is paying this idiot hundreds of thousands of dollars a year for his on the field "analysis" and he doesn't even watch the live action right in front of him - he prefers the TV!
I can't get over this. I even sent the Sports Guy (link to the right) a real snarky email hoping to get him to comment. I mean what an awesome perspective to watch NFL football - right there in your wheelhouse - and there's Goose with his back turned watching some monitor instead. This kills me. I thought briefly it might have been hilarious if the pass sailed out of the back of the endzone and hit him in the back of his gigantic non-field watching head.
-I hate the Goose.
Chargers/Steelers
-True to form, once the Giants got beat up I couldn't even bring myself to watch this game. Instead I opted to head over to the computer to play Team Fortess 2 for two hours and murder some strangers online with a flamethrower. Seemed like the appropriate course of action at the time. Cathartic somehow.
Now football is nearly gone, and I will sort of relish the break. Here's how I'm rooting the rest of the way:
1)Steelers
2)Cardinals
3)Ravens (grudingly)
4)Eagles
A picture of me this morning
Here are some final thoughts on the 2008 Giants:
-As much as I wanted to buy into the Tom Coughlin team thing - and I still want to, and I still think it's important - it cannot be ignored that without Plexico Burress running around out there we finished our season at 1-5. As I said before, Plexico is a monster and a game-breaker and it seems all too clear now that he took Eli Manning, a very average quarterback, and made him into a "good" and, on rare occasion, a "very good" quarterback just by being on the field. Take away Plexico and it's back to average. Take away Plexico and put some wind in the meadowlands, and you are left with a duck-launcher, whom I'm tempted to call "Duck Master" forever more. (On a similar note, how funny is it that one of today's NFL headlines on ESPN read "Giants open to bringing Burress back next year". You think?)
-To me the G-men just seemed flat in this game. It's funny how much things come full circle. The Eagles just wanted it more. Last year the Giants just wanted it more, every time. Anyone who saw the Cardinals play on Saturday, THEY wanted it more too. It's funny how important that ends up being. There's just an intangible energy about the teams that are more fired up. The Giants looked flat; they seemed cocky, which hadn't been their style. And now they're done.
-If Eli hadn't thrown that awful pick in the first half the Eagles would have come away with just 3 points for the half and would have been in some trouble. Also if John Carney hadn't missed two field goals we still might have uglied our way into a win.
-In response to that last bullet: Scoreboard.
-What saddens me most about this loss is two things.
1)You only get so many years where you are "really good" and in a position to take it all. So even though we won it last year, which theoretically should keep me pleased regardless for several years, I can't help but feel that we squandered one of our potential "really good" years. Those windows can close remarkably fast.
2)Had we won it all this year, we would have been on the verge of being one of those "Decade" teams that people keep talking about. The 70's Steelers. 80's Niners. That sort of thing. We wouldn't have been there, but we would have been on the verge of being there. Too bad.
-I will be interested to see what the G-men do with Ward and Jacobs, two of their higher profile unrestricted free agents. If I'm running things, and I can only keep one, I keep Jacobs. He's one of a kind - there are other Wards out there. Especially with the Giant's sweet O-line.
There were other football games this weekend, and here are my thoughts on those:
Titans/Ravens
-I thought the Titans played better and should have won.
-I find it funny that the Titans ended up losing despite Kerry Collins making only a single mistake. He really played a great game.
-I thought the Titans lost a lost of steam when Chris Johnson was out of the line up. Going from the lightning quick "Light Blue Jesus" to the pear-bodied and waddly Lendale White isn't just a downshift in the running game; it's more like pulling the E-brake on the autobahn.
-The most disturbing thing about this game were the constant close shots of Chris Johnson' face on the sideline after he got hurt. These happened seemingly every two minutes the entire second half. What made them disturbing was the fact he was constantly twitching. After a while the twitches really started freaking me out. Maybe the producers too, because they started showing him less after a while. After seeing these for several minutes, I thought briefly Chris Johnson might actually be an android on the verge of going haywire. Which would also explain his freakish speed.
-I continue to dislike the Ravens. After that Super Bowl in 2000, I will never like them.
Cardinals/Panthers
In case you missed it, here's a good recap of the Panther's performance, specifically Jake Delhomme's: (Only slight less applicable to the Giants and the Titans.)
-I can't believe how bad Carolina crapped the bed. They were simply mauled. I enjoyed watching this game.
-The Cardinals actually impressed me for two weeks in a row now. Their defense is really flying all over the place. The Eagles better not let up for this team.
-This game was on Fox and was called by Kenny Albert, Darryl Johnston, and the godawful Tony Siragusa. "The Goose" is a field reporter who is constantly saying dumb things, tripping over his own words, and basically sounding like an ass every time he opens his mouth (remind you of anyone leaving their current position in politics next week?). Anyway, on a replay of an interception in the endzone (one of Delhomme's fifteen picks in this game) early in the fourth quarter, I saw that Goose, despite being a mere seven yards away from the action (standing at the back of that very endzone where the action was occurring), had his BACK TURNED and was instead watching the game on a flat screen TV right there. On the screen was the same telecast that we at home were watching. I found this absolutely ridiculous. Fox is paying this idiot hundreds of thousands of dollars a year for his on the field "analysis" and he doesn't even watch the live action right in front of him - he prefers the TV!
I can't get over this. I even sent the Sports Guy (link to the right) a real snarky email hoping to get him to comment. I mean what an awesome perspective to watch NFL football - right there in your wheelhouse - and there's Goose with his back turned watching some monitor instead. This kills me. I thought briefly it might have been hilarious if the pass sailed out of the back of the endzone and hit him in the back of his gigantic non-field watching head.
-I hate the Goose.
Chargers/Steelers
-True to form, once the Giants got beat up I couldn't even bring myself to watch this game. Instead I opted to head over to the computer to play Team Fortess 2 for two hours and murder some strangers online with a flamethrower. Seemed like the appropriate course of action at the time. Cathartic somehow.
Now football is nearly gone, and I will sort of relish the break. Here's how I'm rooting the rest of the way:
1)Steelers
2)Cardinals
3)Ravens (grudingly)
4)Eagles
Giant Choke
Well, the Giants got their ass kicked today - no two ways about it. (And emotionally, I did too.) Eli regressed to his rookie form, the defense forgot how to rush the passer, and we had exactly ZERO receivers that Philly was afraid of.
Now we've choked away the number one seed in ridiculous fashion to a hated rival, and in a related story I hate the world.
Incidentally, here's a picture of me near the end of the game:
"And we wept precious..."
I knew the game was over when we gave up a conversion on a 3rd and 20. That's when my gut sank. Somehow, even though there was still a lot of time left at that point, that's when I knew the shit had officially hit the fan.
I will now crawl into a cave, block out all sunlight, and forget the sound of trees and the taste of bread. Once there, I'll go back in time and relive last year's playoffs in my head over and over again. You know, that time we got that ring.
That one ring...
My...
Precious....
Now we've choked away the number one seed in ridiculous fashion to a hated rival, and in a related story I hate the world.
Incidentally, here's a picture of me near the end of the game:
"And we wept precious..."
I knew the game was over when we gave up a conversion on a 3rd and 20. That's when my gut sank. Somehow, even though there was still a lot of time left at that point, that's when I knew the shit had officially hit the fan.
I will now crawl into a cave, block out all sunlight, and forget the sound of trees and the taste of bread. Once there, I'll go back in time and relive last year's playoffs in my head over and over again. You know, that time we got that ring.
That one ring...
My...
Precious....
Wild Card Weekend and General Football Musings
One of my sure-to-be-broken New Year's Resolutions is to blog more. So here goes.
I will now talk football.
It will surprise no one who reads this that I watched all four wild-card games last weekend, even though getting through the Philly-Minnesota game required me to stay up until 2 am this past Sunday night, making for a fun, fun, fun Monday morning.
Here's a few of my thoughts on the ongoing playoffs:
-When the playoffs began I thought the following teams had a chance to win the Super Bowl: Giants, Panthers, Eagles, Colts, Steelers. I thought all the other teams had some serious issues. (Most notably I am convinced the Kerry Collins will at some point single-handedly destroy the Titans.) After this past weekend, I might have to add San Diego to that list because their defense impressed me. I hadn't seen them play in a while.
-I really wanted the Vikings to beat the damn Eagles because a)I hate the Eagles and generally root for them to lose and b)The Eagles currently scare me.
To be honest, I really enjoyed watching them (the Eagles) beat the living crap out of the sanctimonious and presumptuous Cowboys in humiliating fashion back in week 17. (Not sure how the NFL reclaimed the Lombardi Trophy it handed out to the Cowboys in the preseason, but the process must have made for some awkward moments, possibly involving a backwards hatted Tony Romo throwing things, stomping on the ground, and generally putting on a mega temper tantrum.) Unfortunately that dominating win has created what appears to be a monster in Philadelphia, and I was really hoping the Vikes might get the better of them because I much rather would have faced the softer Cardinals team in the Meadowlands who probably would have been scared out of their minds. The Eagles will come in with no such fears and and as such here we sit with another cutthroat dog eat dog Giants versus Eagles game in which I will live and die on every play, endlessly rocking between plays like a psychopath off his meds, not to mention that I will probably end up in the fetal position for several minutes at least three times during the game - and that's if we win. Plus I'm tired of hearing the "are the Eagles the 2007 Giants of this post-season?" argument which makes me want to pull my hair out.
-I hate the fact that Plaxico Burress shot himself because it turns out he was really, really good at football. He was a monster against blitzing teams (Eagles!) and he was the perfect bail out receiver for every back-footed Eli Manning pass that has no business being caught by anybody. He is irreplaceable. His loss hurts. And because of that, I hurt.
-I will be thankful that we get to play this game in the Meadowlands. Sure it will be that much more humiliating if we lose, but at least I won't have to watch Brian "helmet to helmet cheap shot master" Dawkins flap his arms while that awful "Fly Eagles Fly" song blares on in the background after every Eagle score or big play. Thank God for small favors.
-I have nothing personally against Andy Reid, but I honestly fear for his life. Every time I see him patrolling the sidelines I play a fun little game with myself to see if can guess his current blood pressure and cholesterol based on the numbers of some of my current patients. Let me assure you the numbers I'm guessing are not low. Sadly, when (not if) we read about that man's heart attack or stroke in the next few years, I will not be the least bit surprised.
-I am tired of hearing about Joe Flacco, the essential rookie Trent Dilfer QB who simply doesn't screw up and lives of the sloppy seconds of the Raven's defense. I don't care that he can throw the ball 85 yards or whatever. I'm just not buying into him quite yet. Matt Ryan is better.
-Larry Fitzgerald is officially my second favorite NFL receiver because he repeatedly makes insane grabs like they're nothing, just like he did last weekend for a touchdown. For the record, Calvin Johnson, aka Megatron, is my favorite NFL receiver because he is effing awesome and also his nickname is the sweetest bar none. In my dreams I scheme of ways for the Giants to sign him. And if they don't - it will happen in my Madden game, just you wait.
-This Chargers/Steelers game is turning out to be a real stressor for me. On the one hand are the lovable Bolts, supported by my entire San Diego posse, and often at times indirectly by me. On the other hand, are the Steelers, beloved of my beloved, sweet Gwendolyn, and whom I tend to root for now unless the Giants are involved. Neither side will back down here and I fear I'm caught in the middle of an ugly debate about who I "want" to win this game. I will say only this: I think the Steelers will win, but I will be happy for the supporters of whoever wins. Blase and non-committal enough? Furthermore, this game is on right after the Giants/Eagles game. In the end, if the Giants lose, to be honest, I won't give a rat's ass.
Only seven more football games this year people. Soak it in.
I will now talk football.
It will surprise no one who reads this that I watched all four wild-card games last weekend, even though getting through the Philly-Minnesota game required me to stay up until 2 am this past Sunday night, making for a fun, fun, fun Monday morning.
Here's a few of my thoughts on the ongoing playoffs:
-When the playoffs began I thought the following teams had a chance to win the Super Bowl: Giants, Panthers, Eagles, Colts, Steelers. I thought all the other teams had some serious issues. (Most notably I am convinced the Kerry Collins will at some point single-handedly destroy the Titans.) After this past weekend, I might have to add San Diego to that list because their defense impressed me. I hadn't seen them play in a while.
-I really wanted the Vikings to beat the damn Eagles because a)I hate the Eagles and generally root for them to lose and b)The Eagles currently scare me.
To be honest, I really enjoyed watching them (the Eagles) beat the living crap out of the sanctimonious and presumptuous Cowboys in humiliating fashion back in week 17. (Not sure how the NFL reclaimed the Lombardi Trophy it handed out to the Cowboys in the preseason, but the process must have made for some awkward moments, possibly involving a backwards hatted Tony Romo throwing things, stomping on the ground, and generally putting on a mega temper tantrum.) Unfortunately that dominating win has created what appears to be a monster in Philadelphia, and I was really hoping the Vikes might get the better of them because I much rather would have faced the softer Cardinals team in the Meadowlands who probably would have been scared out of their minds. The Eagles will come in with no such fears and and as such here we sit with another cutthroat dog eat dog Giants versus Eagles game in which I will live and die on every play, endlessly rocking between plays like a psychopath off his meds, not to mention that I will probably end up in the fetal position for several minutes at least three times during the game - and that's if we win. Plus I'm tired of hearing the "are the Eagles the 2007 Giants of this post-season?" argument which makes me want to pull my hair out.
-I hate the fact that Plaxico Burress shot himself because it turns out he was really, really good at football. He was a monster against blitzing teams (Eagles!) and he was the perfect bail out receiver for every back-footed Eli Manning pass that has no business being caught by anybody. He is irreplaceable. His loss hurts. And because of that, I hurt.
-I will be thankful that we get to play this game in the Meadowlands. Sure it will be that much more humiliating if we lose, but at least I won't have to watch Brian "helmet to helmet cheap shot master" Dawkins flap his arms while that awful "Fly Eagles Fly" song blares on in the background after every Eagle score or big play. Thank God for small favors.
-I have nothing personally against Andy Reid, but I honestly fear for his life. Every time I see him patrolling the sidelines I play a fun little game with myself to see if can guess his current blood pressure and cholesterol based on the numbers of some of my current patients. Let me assure you the numbers I'm guessing are not low. Sadly, when (not if) we read about that man's heart attack or stroke in the next few years, I will not be the least bit surprised.
-I am tired of hearing about Joe Flacco, the essential rookie Trent Dilfer QB who simply doesn't screw up and lives of the sloppy seconds of the Raven's defense. I don't care that he can throw the ball 85 yards or whatever. I'm just not buying into him quite yet. Matt Ryan is better.
-Larry Fitzgerald is officially my second favorite NFL receiver because he repeatedly makes insane grabs like they're nothing, just like he did last weekend for a touchdown. For the record, Calvin Johnson, aka Megatron, is my favorite NFL receiver because he is effing awesome and also his nickname is the sweetest bar none. In my dreams I scheme of ways for the Giants to sign him. And if they don't - it will happen in my Madden game, just you wait.
-This Chargers/Steelers game is turning out to be a real stressor for me. On the one hand are the lovable Bolts, supported by my entire San Diego posse, and often at times indirectly by me. On the other hand, are the Steelers, beloved of my beloved, sweet Gwendolyn, and whom I tend to root for now unless the Giants are involved. Neither side will back down here and I fear I'm caught in the middle of an ugly debate about who I "want" to win this game. I will say only this: I think the Steelers will win, but I will be happy for the supporters of whoever wins. Blase and non-committal enough? Furthermore, this game is on right after the Giants/Eagles game. In the end, if the Giants lose, to be honest, I won't give a rat's ass.
Only seven more football games this year people. Soak it in.
Budapest - A great city in Turkey, I mean Hungary
Gwendolyn and I are back from a few days in Budapest, where we spent New Year's Eve in the relative luxury of the Four Seasons Hotel. We decided to splurge for this, our outgoing European New Year's, and the accommodations certainly didn't disappoint even though my eyes widened just slightly upon receiving the bill. (Luckily my immediate comprehension of the total figure was shrouded to some extent by the odd conversion of about 187 Hungarian Florent to a single US dollar. This made everything we paid for over the few days seem like it cost either a million dollars or about six and I repeatedly found myself asking, "Wait, how many zeros are on that thing?")
The city of Budapest, is actually two cities side by side, Buda and Pest, split down the middle by the brilliant Blue Danube, a fact I hammered home to poor Gwendolyn by constantly humming the Blue Danube Waltz, made famous in the film 2001: A Space Odyssey. It's gleaming waters served a fitting backdrop for any New Year's party, and I caught myself repeatedly staring out at the dizzying views of the river from our hotel, who's location simply could not be beat for any prospective visitor to this city.
Budapest is in Hungary, something I had to constantly remind myself of because I kept thinking that we were, in fact, in Turkey. I don't know why, but it probably has something to do with the fact that when I was a kid and looking with naive wonder at the globe I probably giggled constantly at the countries "Turkey" and "Hungry", possibly even in a Thanksgiving setting. Throw in the fact that they are right next to each other and is it really my fault? I'm sure the Hungarians and the Turks are also making the same mistake on a daily basis.
We arrived on New Year's Eve, basically landing in just enough time to taxi to the hotel, nap, and then "suit up" for our fancy-pants New Year's Dinner at the hotel restaurant, which was divine, if again, a bit pricey (a theme for this trip). It was also amusing to spend New Year's in the general company of a significant amount of old British Money, with multiple older ladies donning furs by the flock as if there were a contest for who could amass the most dead animals on them at once; I kept my head on a swivel waiting for a live version of the monopoly guy to show up and judge the competition, though it didn't happen.
After dinner on New Year's Eve we sort of hung around the lobby and bar of the hotel which was turned into a stage, occupied for the night by a rather ho-hum cover band which was fronted by an obscene "Euro Guy" who sported a pot-belly, a disturbing crotch bulge owing to way-too-tight slacks, a checkered suit over an orange shirt, and a mullet fit for a king. If this imagery seems too good to be true, it turns out it is, because the man also apparently wielded a predator-like cloaking system which made him immune to all forms of photography despite our repeated giggly attempts. In an effort to be halfway discrete every shot we took was blurry, sideways, or way off-center. Though in looking back, I remain disappointed I couldn't get a good shot of this guy. He sort of deserved it, especially after asking the crowd if they liked Barry White only to follow it up with a disturbing cover of "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe" that was about six octaves too high and had way too much pelvis in the interpretive dance.
(In general it's probably not a good sign for a musician if every time the band takes a break and the DJ takes over the dance floor fills up quickly only to be emptied twenty minutes later when the band resumes playing. Don't get me wrong, there was definitely entertainment value there, just not the intended kind.)
Gwendolyn and I rang in the New Year's with Euro Guy and his band and pricey cocktails and a little dancing and generally had a good time. We thought about going outside at New Year's to watch the fireworks in the open air along the beautiful Danube until someone opened the door and it was about negative two-hundred degrees outside and so we quickly changed our minds and remained behind the relative safety of the glass.
(Which brings up a greater point. When many years from now I look back on my holiday times in Europe, I will remember much good, but a central coexisting theme will almost certainly be the pervasive, unending, and bone-chilling COLD which descends on Europe like a plague at this time of year. Whether it was New Year's in Berlin 2006, Stasbourg in France with my parents in 2007, or Budapest New Year's in 2008, all my memories will include a biting, stinging, arctic blast component. And though in reality simple layering, gloves and hats are all that is needed to combat such an enemy, and it probably wasn't too big a deal, I will still one day tell stories to my grandchildren about my time in "Winter Europe" and the days spent trudging about in mounds of snow, wrapped heavily in the cured fur of several musk oxen, and losing digits left and right to the "Frostbite of '07" and the like.)
On New Year's Day Gwendolyn and I set out to explore the city, spending the bulk of the day on Castle Hill and touring the royal buildings there. The entire Castle Complex makes for an impressive scene, standing tall over the Danube, and once again I found myself thinking how cool it is to wander around in a picturesque place with so much freakin' history behind it. Did a King stand here, imploring his subjects? Did archers stave off invaders there? These are the questions I delight myself with as I tour Churches and walk parapets. A light snow fell most of the day to add to the winter wonderland imagery.
One of the local specialties in Budapest is Goulash (meat soup), which I managed to dine on at least a couple of times, coming away impressed each time. Actually, for what we didn't consider a "food city", the food in Budapest overall was very good. It didn't hurt that we were staying at the Four Seasons, a lodging facility replete with several good restaurants, or that one day we stopped in for a quick bite of lunch at what we thought was a tavern but happened to be a one-star Michelin restaurant as well. Once seated and in realization of our error too late, what is one to do besides order the goose liver appetizer and move on?
On the evening of the 1st Gwen and I took advantage of the Hotel's "extras", bringing in the New Year with a trip to the spa complete with a 30-minute back and shoulder massage. I've had about four formal massages in my life to this point, and after every one I always think "I should do these more often".
On January 2nd Gwendolyn and I headed east, further into Pest, for a "Happy Fun" afternoon with the House of Terror, a museum dedicated to the horrific occupations suffered by the Hungarians at the hands of the Nazis and later the Soviets. (I don't know what it says about me, but every time I visit a city I manage to seek out the Nazi (or other) related places of soul-crushing despair - and enjoy them very much). Through a series of twisting rooms and vivid photography Gwendolyn and I learned that the occupying Commies were really no better than the Nazis, with the minor caveat being that if you were Jewish the Nazis were probably a hair worse.
The Museum itself was incredible visually - probably one of the best museums style-wise I have ever been to. Unfortunately, the audio-guide was a rambly mess, taking a fairly gripping subject and turning into something akin to boring lecture on photosynthesis. Still, the museum was definitely worth the visit and I'm glad we went.
After the museum we meandered about some other parts of the city, stopping to buy a souvenir coffee mug (I've been collecting coffee mugs from every city we visit - it all started back in 2005 when I laid eyes on a mug that said "Prague: Czech me out!" and simply couldn't resist) and to get a shot-glass for Gwendolyn, who has a similar collection. (I like coffee, she likes booze - that's how it is.) That night we had a decent-if-not-stellar seafood dinner and then retreated back to the warmth of the hotel. The next day we flew home, back to Stuttgart, and our drive home was mired by ridiculous German traffic which had us both cursing up a storm at the damn Germans, their driving habits, and their never-ending road construction.
(Luckily, we're moving to Southern California where this sort of thing - traffic - doesn't happen.)
So another good trip is in the books. With the New Year's arrived, and only six months officially left on this European Tour, I wonder just how many we have left.
And here below are the pics, comments provided by Gwendolyn.
The city of Budapest, is actually two cities side by side, Buda and Pest, split down the middle by the brilliant Blue Danube, a fact I hammered home to poor Gwendolyn by constantly humming the Blue Danube Waltz, made famous in the film 2001: A Space Odyssey. It's gleaming waters served a fitting backdrop for any New Year's party, and I caught myself repeatedly staring out at the dizzying views of the river from our hotel, who's location simply could not be beat for any prospective visitor to this city.
Budapest is in Hungary, something I had to constantly remind myself of because I kept thinking that we were, in fact, in Turkey. I don't know why, but it probably has something to do with the fact that when I was a kid and looking with naive wonder at the globe I probably giggled constantly at the countries "Turkey" and "Hungry", possibly even in a Thanksgiving setting. Throw in the fact that they are right next to each other and is it really my fault? I'm sure the Hungarians and the Turks are also making the same mistake on a daily basis.
We arrived on New Year's Eve, basically landing in just enough time to taxi to the hotel, nap, and then "suit up" for our fancy-pants New Year's Dinner at the hotel restaurant, which was divine, if again, a bit pricey (a theme for this trip). It was also amusing to spend New Year's in the general company of a significant amount of old British Money, with multiple older ladies donning furs by the flock as if there were a contest for who could amass the most dead animals on them at once; I kept my head on a swivel waiting for a live version of the monopoly guy to show up and judge the competition, though it didn't happen.
After dinner on New Year's Eve we sort of hung around the lobby and bar of the hotel which was turned into a stage, occupied for the night by a rather ho-hum cover band which was fronted by an obscene "Euro Guy" who sported a pot-belly, a disturbing crotch bulge owing to way-too-tight slacks, a checkered suit over an orange shirt, and a mullet fit for a king. If this imagery seems too good to be true, it turns out it is, because the man also apparently wielded a predator-like cloaking system which made him immune to all forms of photography despite our repeated giggly attempts. In an effort to be halfway discrete every shot we took was blurry, sideways, or way off-center. Though in looking back, I remain disappointed I couldn't get a good shot of this guy. He sort of deserved it, especially after asking the crowd if they liked Barry White only to follow it up with a disturbing cover of "Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Babe" that was about six octaves too high and had way too much pelvis in the interpretive dance.
(In general it's probably not a good sign for a musician if every time the band takes a break and the DJ takes over the dance floor fills up quickly only to be emptied twenty minutes later when the band resumes playing. Don't get me wrong, there was definitely entertainment value there, just not the intended kind.)
Gwendolyn and I rang in the New Year's with Euro Guy and his band and pricey cocktails and a little dancing and generally had a good time. We thought about going outside at New Year's to watch the fireworks in the open air along the beautiful Danube until someone opened the door and it was about negative two-hundred degrees outside and so we quickly changed our minds and remained behind the relative safety of the glass.
(Which brings up a greater point. When many years from now I look back on my holiday times in Europe, I will remember much good, but a central coexisting theme will almost certainly be the pervasive, unending, and bone-chilling COLD which descends on Europe like a plague at this time of year. Whether it was New Year's in Berlin 2006, Stasbourg in France with my parents in 2007, or Budapest New Year's in 2008, all my memories will include a biting, stinging, arctic blast component. And though in reality simple layering, gloves and hats are all that is needed to combat such an enemy, and it probably wasn't too big a deal, I will still one day tell stories to my grandchildren about my time in "Winter Europe" and the days spent trudging about in mounds of snow, wrapped heavily in the cured fur of several musk oxen, and losing digits left and right to the "Frostbite of '07" and the like.)
On New Year's Day Gwendolyn and I set out to explore the city, spending the bulk of the day on Castle Hill and touring the royal buildings there. The entire Castle Complex makes for an impressive scene, standing tall over the Danube, and once again I found myself thinking how cool it is to wander around in a picturesque place with so much freakin' history behind it. Did a King stand here, imploring his subjects? Did archers stave off invaders there? These are the questions I delight myself with as I tour Churches and walk parapets. A light snow fell most of the day to add to the winter wonderland imagery.
One of the local specialties in Budapest is Goulash (meat soup), which I managed to dine on at least a couple of times, coming away impressed each time. Actually, for what we didn't consider a "food city", the food in Budapest overall was very good. It didn't hurt that we were staying at the Four Seasons, a lodging facility replete with several good restaurants, or that one day we stopped in for a quick bite of lunch at what we thought was a tavern but happened to be a one-star Michelin restaurant as well. Once seated and in realization of our error too late, what is one to do besides order the goose liver appetizer and move on?
On the evening of the 1st Gwen and I took advantage of the Hotel's "extras", bringing in the New Year with a trip to the spa complete with a 30-minute back and shoulder massage. I've had about four formal massages in my life to this point, and after every one I always think "I should do these more often".
On January 2nd Gwendolyn and I headed east, further into Pest, for a "Happy Fun" afternoon with the House of Terror, a museum dedicated to the horrific occupations suffered by the Hungarians at the hands of the Nazis and later the Soviets. (I don't know what it says about me, but every time I visit a city I manage to seek out the Nazi (or other) related places of soul-crushing despair - and enjoy them very much). Through a series of twisting rooms and vivid photography Gwendolyn and I learned that the occupying Commies were really no better than the Nazis, with the minor caveat being that if you were Jewish the Nazis were probably a hair worse.
The Museum itself was incredible visually - probably one of the best museums style-wise I have ever been to. Unfortunately, the audio-guide was a rambly mess, taking a fairly gripping subject and turning into something akin to boring lecture on photosynthesis. Still, the museum was definitely worth the visit and I'm glad we went.
After the museum we meandered about some other parts of the city, stopping to buy a souvenir coffee mug (I've been collecting coffee mugs from every city we visit - it all started back in 2005 when I laid eyes on a mug that said "Prague: Czech me out!" and simply couldn't resist) and to get a shot-glass for Gwendolyn, who has a similar collection. (I like coffee, she likes booze - that's how it is.) That night we had a decent-if-not-stellar seafood dinner and then retreated back to the warmth of the hotel. The next day we flew home, back to Stuttgart, and our drive home was mired by ridiculous German traffic which had us both cursing up a storm at the damn Germans, their driving habits, and their never-ending road construction.
(Luckily, we're moving to Southern California where this sort of thing - traffic - doesn't happen.)
So another good trip is in the books. With the New Year's arrived, and only six months officially left on this European Tour, I wonder just how many we have left.
And here below are the pics, comments provided by Gwendolyn.
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| Budapest Dec 08 |
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