The best part of my trip to Germany

 I wanted to have a pretzel and cheese and beer while in Germany, but apparently that's not an easy combination to find. At least, not for a decent price. This pretzel and beer cost me the equivalent of $12. That sauce is some kind of tomato thing. Not bad, but not something to die for.

This set I got on a boat while chugging along Lake Starnberg. The beer was $7 while the pretzel was free. No cheese on board, thank you. No other food at all.

This was as close as I ever got to a set-up of cheese, pretzel and beer...in the Ratskeller at Marienplatz. I had a bread basket with the cheese, but if I wanted a big pretzel, I had to order a second bread basket for another $10. To be honest -- I totally prefer their potato soup.

The one meal I had zero problem with. The Big Mac even tasted like a Big Mac and the fries were just right. Their ketchup is even like McDonald's ketchup, something I learned is a rarity in Germany; usually that stuff barely passes for tomato puree. Makes me miss the HP Sauce of England.

One last shot of Marienplatz and the amazing building that towers over it.

The red flowers grow in planters lining those windows.

But look at this detail -- these figures are 2/3 of the way up the tower. Supposedly they move during certain times of the day. Amazing work. That this building survived the bombing of Munich during WW2 is close to a miracle.

Scatter brained

Zyrtek fuzzies up my brain and sleepies my eyes, so after spending the day making myself focus on working up a quote for another packing job, I got home, ate dinner and lay down for just a few minutes...and woke up nearly 2 hours later. I haven't been able to focus my brain since.

I'll need to go back through everything I have for OT, now, because when I try to work on it, I can't remember what happened when where and how. It's irritating, but I'm getting nothing done of any value so I may as well.

I'm also working up new short summaries of the scripts I have that are ready to be made. Since I'm going to the Indie Gathering in a couple weeks, I want something I can show around. I have been contacted by one producer interested in reading one of my award-winners, so I'll get that off, tomorrow, and expect nothing.

Man, I have so much I need to do. I should hire a maid...wait, what's the male equivalent? A cute guy in a pair of shorts? I wonder how much one would cost to clean my place and defrost my fridge so I can use it, again? Half the reason I'm having nose trouble is all the dust in my joint.

I hope.

Now off to surf and let brain be dead for a while longer.

Zyrtek returns

I am allergic to something in Buffalo, because the minute I get back to town, my eyes start watering and my nose drives me nuts. I spent most of the day sneezing and blowing said nose as my eyes itched. I never even had Cedar Fever this bad, in Texas.

I had too much paperwork and mail to catch up on, so OT is on a back burner, for the moment. I'm taking my birthday off and trying to do some catching up. I've got an interesting idea for a coda, re: OT. There are people who think they know what they're doing and what's going on, but they don't. Jake does, because he can cut through the bullshit. I wish I was that cool.

I'm definitely back to having the last two weeks of August off, so I'm taking in The Indie Gathering Film Festival. It's geared towards action, horror and some comedy, with awards given for things like best fights and short films and micro-films and such. "The Alice '65" got best Romantic Comedy, there, which is fun and gives me a free pass. I'm making use of it. It starts the 16th and goes to the 18th. I booked my hotel, using the last of my points with Best Western, today.

I've had ideas on other scripts and how to rewrite them to be better. I have one called "Delay En Route" that's a bit on the old-fashioned side. I'd tried a number of ways to make it current but then realized, it wants to be set in the early 80s, when America was having a mini-renaissance of power under Reagan. That it turned out to be a fantasy that set the stage for exploding debt is beside the point; in '82-'83 we'd stopped whining about Vietnam and begun acting like a superpower, again...and that pretty much continued until Bush 2 and 9/11, when we went completely nuts.

I have other ideas, too. I still think in film images when I write. Guess I'm stuck in my lovely rut.

Say what?

It amazes me what people will call their food. At Munich airport, I had a lunch of curry wurst and potato salad...neither of which really fit my idea of either food. The "curry" was more like a sweet barbecue sauce; very tasty but not curry. The potato salad was potatoes and Cumin (I think) and cucumber. It wasn't the hot German potato salad like I'd get at Schilo's Deli in San Antonio or the cold mustard-based one with eggs and onions and pickles and carrots and splashed with beer...but again, it was tasty.

So...I get to Toronto and even though it's really like 3am by my body clock, I'm starving. There's a joint next door to my hotel that says BBQ. It's not. At all. It's Mediterranean Halal food claiming to be barbecue. What I wound up with was okay, but it was like two long cylindrical hamburgers on rice. No sauce at all.

One thing I do definitely miss about Texas is the barbecue. Be it Bill Miller's or Rudy's or even The County Line (with their to-die-for mushrooms), that state knows BBQ. And chili. It's ridiculous how poor everyone else's is. I may break down and go to Rochester to have some of the so-so kind at Sticky Lips. A "close but no cookie" kind of sauce over decently cooked meat.

I'm feeling pretty ripped up, right now. I made myself stay awake till midnight, last night, and slept till 8:30, so I should be back on track for NY time...but I'm feeling so friggin' exhausted, right now. I think the combination of heat and lack of ventilation at the university in Munich -- and dealing with a room full of boxes of old journals covered in dust that probably hadn't been touched since 1915 -- freaked my system out. I can't handle anything but water and hot tea, right now, without feeling a bit nauseated.

Of course, it might also be age. I'm going to be 61 in a few days. I've probably worn myself out. I'm treating myself to a serious dinner, using a gift card I've had for six months, then kicking back to near bread and water for the month, since I won't have half my income.

I'll get back on dealing with Jake and OT soon. Right now my place is a catastrophe and I don't have the energy to deal with it.

We'll see what happens tomorrow.

I like KLM

I was close to freaking out when I couldn't check in online for my flight home. I was able to do the section from Munich to Amsterdam, but I had to go to a transfer desk to get everything set up for Amsterdam to Toronto...and the damn automated kiosks at Schiphol in Amsterdam wouldn't let me. So I went to the transfer counter and found a line 50 people deep. And my flight was in less than 2 hours, on the other side of the airport.

Anyone who's been through Schiphol knows what that means -- a good mile of walking and passing through passport control. I was about to hit panic mode when I decided to try the automated kiosk by the transfer desk. This time, I caught on that they wanted the KLM flight number; I'd booked the flight through Delta so was inputting that flight number. I found KLM's on my initial receipt, and got me a boarding pass...and they reassigned my seat.

I got to the gate half an hour before boarding was to begin, so went through security -- you do security screening right at the gate, here -- and checked with the attendant...and found out I'd been upgraded to economy comfort. Meaning more leg room. The attendant even said I wasn't qualified for it, but since I'd checked in so late and the flight was full, I got what was left.

So for the first time I rode in the nose of a 747 and could stretch my legs out and not be cramped when using my computer. And the food was good and I got a free beer. If they'd offered a power source for me to plug into, this would have been perfect.

We got off late but landed on time. I'm now ensconced at a hotel for the night, using my points. I can't handle a 2 hour drive home, including going through border security.

So as a farewell to Munich, I thought I'd show a photo of tourist central for the town -- AKA: Marienplatz. You can barely move for the crowds and performers and bike-shaws running around, and the shops are non-stop, but I changed subways trains here every time I went anyplace, so finally had to go up top on to see what the big deal was.

This building is (was?) the city hall,  basically. And the detail in those walls and pinnacles is breathtaking. I also had the best potato soup ever, here, in the Ratskeller...which claims to be air conditioned, just like shops around Munich claim to have cold drinks when they're really just barely cool. Worth it, though. I could live off that soup.

I may have to, once I get home, if I ever want to get out of debt.

A lighter note...

After Dachau, I decided I wanted something to lift me up and remind me humans aren't always bad, so I went to the Deutsche Museum...but it's not air conditioned and I just did not feel like being in a hot, stuffy building if I didn't have to.

So I walked along the Isar River for a little ways, and happened onto this lovely scene -- A Munich Beach where a number of people were swimming nude (most of whom should not have been). I have no idea what church that is, but it seemed appropriate for the situation.

Lots of kids were around. The water looked great. I damn near jumped in. But then I saw this guy...

...trying to coax his girlfriend or wife to join him in the rapids. Initially I thought he was in his underwear and I was thinking, "I've got on a t-shirt and boxer briefs...why not?"

His turned out to be a black Speedo, and he looked one hell of a lot better in his swimsuit than she did in her bikini...and I'm not saying that just because I'm gay and he's cute. Her cellulite had cellulite.

Anyway, I decided I'm just a little too middle-class to jump in wearing just undies. And old. And in less than decent shape.

So I hopped the S-2 to Starnberg and took a boat trip around a lovely lake that started out in nice cool rain that poured down like this was the tropics (those white flecks are drops of water, not snow; the rain could knock you out in this part of Germany, it comes down so big and hard)...

...but soon there was lovely scenery. I'm told those are the Bavarian Alps in the distance.

Add a beer and pretzel, and I felt better. Still scrambled of brain, but no longer lost in the past. Now the only question is, what effect will this have on my writing?

A lot, I hope.

The meaning of Dachau...

So…yesterday I went to Dachau Concentration Camp. It’s only about 20 minutes northwest of Munich, on the S-Bahn #2. Then you hop the 726 bus to pass through a pleasant little town and around to the main entrance.  It’s not a very large bus and has no AC or even decent air flow, and mine was crammed with American students chattering about where they’ve been, so far, and how awful or lax airport security is, and yap, yap, yap. Irritating…but it’s Europe in the summer.

Right by the entrance is the well-kept information center and cafeteria, then comes a short stroll down a gravel pathway of lovely foliage and neat benches, all very innocuous...until you get to...

...a couple of rails left from where the trains used to stop. Then across a little creek is a plain-looking building with a simple iron gate. Beyond that is a massive parade ground. Acres of smooth, white gravel, with tiny buildings to the left and the museum to the right.

In front of this building is a wrought-iron sculpture symbolizing the pain and suffering of what happened at this camp.

 I entered the museum first, winding my way down polished floors and clean white walls and perfectly laminated posters with well-crafted explanations of the events from 1933-1945. Some of the photos are very intense, and a sign at the main entrance even suggests the museum is not appropriate for children under 12. People were mostly quiet and reading and thinking, some chattering to each other, some being led by tour guides...like this was the latest collection at a gallery.

It used to be the processing center, where prisoners were stripped and forced to take showers, then were shaved of their hair…each step done in the most humiliating manner possible.

When you exit the building, to the right are guard towers and trenches and electrified fences.

Across the wide expanse of blinding white gravel are two barracks that neatly show the living conditions...

...and beyond those are line after line of gravel rectangles elegantly symbolizing the 72 other barracks that made up this part of the camp…each precisely numbered.

There’s a beautiful promenade between tall, whispering trees that leads to a Christian memorial to the dead; the Jewish one is smaller and to the right of it. To its left is a building that deals with racism of all kinds.

People stroll about and chatter and talk on their phones and German students sound just like American students, except for the actual words, and I heard this Daft Punk song I loathe blasting off someone’s iPod and dogs are led about on leads, sniffing and pissing as their owners complain about god knows what and it’s all so wrong, wrong, wrong.

You don’t smell anything there. All you hear is nonsense and the noise of idiots. The gravel is kept perfectly in place. The floors are so clean you can eat off them. The walls are painted white or are polished wood. Behind the Christian memorial is a Carmelite convent established on what was a playground built by slave labor for the camp commandant’s children. It all looks really, really nice, but it’s all so antiseptic and clean, it’s not real, anymore. It’s just a thought.

What clarified everything was when I was walking down the promenade towards the memorial and a woman passed me with her happy, sniffing dog as she chatted to a friend. I actually got so fucking angry when I saw that fucking dog and that stupid fucking woman chattering in what I think was German, I had to walk away from her. All of a sudden I was weeping…not crying, just tears streaming down my face at the blithe disregard for how vile and animalistic humanity has been and can still be. Granted, hers wasn’t the only dog there, but it drove the point home.

This was a park, now. A playground for puppies to play and piss and poop, and for people to stroll around on a warm summer day. The exquisite symmetry of it all has minimized the hell this place became for god knows how many men, women and children. It’s all just history, now. All just a memory...if even that.

Humans have been practicing genocide since we began developing separate civilizations. “Mine is always better while yours is unworthy.” Even the US was built on genocide and slavery, and around the world hate and fear are, as usual, being used to solidify political power in Russia and Afghanistan and countries in Africa...hell, it’s still happening in America.

We always do everything we can to minimize the true atrocities that can be unleashed by human beings – not just at Dachau, but against Armenians in Turkey, and Kurds in Iraq, and Native Americans in the US and on and on and on. It’s always "them" being the worst and only barely ever "us" when it comes to the horror that's part of nature; not human nature, just nature in general.

the planet don't give a damn about our ideas of morality, one way or the other. It does what it does. We, as humans, claim we want to rise above that…but we always drop back to the slime pits the second we have the excuse.

Because we never remember; we deliberately forget. And clean, beautiful, antiseptic memorials like Dachau will always be there to help us do exactly that.

Went to Dachau...

My mind is still a jumble. Let me sort this out...

Thursday free...

Packing's all done. Got a free day, tomorrow, because they can't pick the shipment up till Friday. Seems you have to get a permit in glorious Munich to do such things, and they are loathe to change the schedule. But hey, I packed 2500 books and such in 3 days with a helper for 2...though they're charging us for 3.5 days on the helper because we booked for 4 days and they "couldn't find another job for the guy." What bullshit.

You want to know why Germany's doing so well? They tell you one price, charge for another, make you pay in advance, and won't give you a penny more worth of refund for what you don't need or use than they absolutely have to. And I'm not being facetious. Two of the restaurants I've eaten at have bumped up the price of my meal on my bill from the price listed on the menu. It's not a lot -- 2-3 euro -- but it's telling. And when I point it out, it's "Oh, those are the old prices."

Maybe I should eat at McDonald's.

It rained today in a way that reminded me of Honolulu -- straight down and hard, and still steamy afterwards. I checked for the average temperature in July in Munich -- 23 C. Which is what? 65-70 F? HA!

I haven't been able to do much thinking about OT during this job. I'm tired and cranky from the heat and work. My helper was really good; he's much of the reason I got done so quickly. But I want my AC.

Oh, the second German job is back off. Another case of a German group changing an agreed-to price at the last minute, thinking the client would be willing to pay anything to get his hands on such a great collection. They thought wrong. I have a strong inkling now as to why the Germans hated the Jews so much -- they're the only group who could play the screw-you game as well as das Deutsche (and maybe the Dutch, though the Scots give all a good run for their money...literally).

Wait a second -- I've got Scots and Dutch in me; what the hell happened to my money-managing gene? Is there too much French-Norwegian, too?

Big city, small town

That's Munich. I needed to change some dollars into euros, but apparently there's no American Express office in the city, anymore. Nor are there currency exchanges in my area, even though though I'm working at a multi-national university. But here's the best part; there aren't any banks here, either. Apparently they're all downtown...wherever that is. And they keep minimal hours. What poses for a bank is called Deutsche-Post Bank, which is a glorified post office, and where you cannot do actual banking. No changing dollars to euros.

This wouldn't be so bad if 99% of the local restaurants and shops didn't refuse to take Visa, MC or American Express. Cash only. That ain't how I work. Schiesse.

So...I damn near went into dehydration because I wasn't able to buy water or soda or anything but a sandwich at a Falafel shop with my last centiemes. In order to do any sort of exchange tonight so I could feed myself, tomorrow, I had to go back out to the airport. This big multi-national ariport...that had one exchange open at 6:30 pm.

This is partly my fault. When I was in De Gaulle I came close to exchanging out for euros there, but I stupidly figured I could wait till I got to Munich. Dumb move. It's like a little voice in my head was saying, "Look, dude, you better play it safe because god knows what you'll find in Deutsche-ville. Should've listened.

But that's me. Half the time when I get into trouble in a story it's because I don't listen and try to do it my own dumb-assed way. You'd think I'd learn.

Guess not.