I'm not racist against the Dutch, like Nigel Powers, but having grown up with some pseudo-French influences, I might have a little predisposition to lump the Belgians in with the North Dakotans and the Ohioans. But going to Brussels made me appreciate some of the truly wonderful things about the Belgians: waffles and chocolate.
Admission: I was only there for about three hours. Prohibitively expensive hostel prices and a lack of really important art museums, etc. meant that I didn't give Brussels the consideration it deserves. Here's my thinking on this: I speak French. Not really well, but I do. This, plus the fact that France is home to some of the most important art in the world, indicates that I'll probably be back in that part of the world before I get a chance to go back to Budapest, Prague, Tetovo... so I made a sacrifice.
It wasn't actually that big of a sacrifice, since I did achieve the one thing that people are going to ask me about when I say I visited Belgium. I ate a waffle. And it was delicious. That doesn't actually do it justice, but since they honestly can't be made as well anywhere else in the world, I'll let you go to Brussels and discover what I mean for yourself.
I mostly just bopped around the center of town with my waffle, window shopping for lace and chocolate. They're really not joking when they say that's what Belgium is known for. Of course, I was right by the beautiful, if very touristy, Grande Place, and so it's a given that most of these shops were capitalizing on the tourists walking around, exclaiming at the admittedly mind-blowing, gilt-encrusted Baroque-ish buildings of the square. It was a good way to spend a morning. And, of course, it makes me eager to go back there when I have the chance to spend more than a few hours, but in this case, Berlin awaited.
Immediate impressions of Berlin: freaking Arctic. Literally. By this point, I have pretty much been to the North Pole. I mean, I was in a place just a few days before where they had REINDEER on the menu. (Okay, so that's probably not PC at the real North Pole, but still. Stockholm and Oslo are pretty far north.) But Berlin was SO cold. At first. I got in late at night, and it was as windy as anywhere I've ever been (and I come from Great Falls) and so I wasn't particularly favorably impressed at first, thinking I might just scrap this whole part of the trip and head directly to Greece.
But when I got to the hostel, I decided I was moving in. The Grand Hostel Berlin is amazing. Like, with fluffy white duvet covers and internet in the rooms. I wanted to stay there forever.
One of the people I was sharing the room with was a guy from Melbourne, Austrailia named James. He and I got to chatting about how unfortunate it is to be an English-speaker who can't speak German when you're in Germany, but how it doesn't really matter anymore, since English is literally a global language.
A quick word on this phenomenon: I am the daughter of a language teacher. As such, I have been raised with the idea that language is the key to culture, and that culture is the key to understanding how other people operate, and if we understand how other people operate, perhaps we wouldn't blow each other up as often. And so the fact that in each new country I visit, it's not required of me to even learn the rudiments of the language because everyone I encounter speaks English better than I do is something of a mixed blessing.
The wonderful part is that it's made it possible for me to connect with a lot more people and get their opinions of the world, which is so much smaller and more closely-knit than it used to be. It's encouraging for me to talk with people from Germany, Korea, Austrailia, Brazil and find that their opinions of a lot of the most pressing issues that we as a generation are going to have to face are very comparable to mine. The fact that we all share a common language has been enormously helpful in letting me get familiar with other ways of thinking and reasoning and how people's opinions are influenced by their upbringing. That the common language happens to be my native one is just very lucky.
The guilty part is: given the respect that both of my parents have for other cultures, and the mentality that they've raised me with that going to another culture means accepting the differences of that culture, language included, means that I feel really awful when I have to speak English when that is not the native language. Growing up in Bush2 Amuhrica, as a Democrat, I've grown used to thinking that the rest of the world thinks that we are a bunch of loud, violent, inconsiderate cowboys who want everyone else to do what we say is right to make it easier for us. From what I've encountered in some places here, it's not really that far off the mark. Or maybe I'm hypersensitive to Ugly Amuhricans. I don't know. But the fact remains that I feel like I'm playing into this stereotype every time I have to ask something in English.
My solution: British accent. I'm really quite pahssable aht tawking with a British accent, and since hanging out with James for pretty much the entyah toyme Oy was een Buhleen, I'm pretty good at Austrailian, too. I figure the Aussies and the Brits can afford to look culturally insensitive more than we can, at the moment. And so I never use an American accent when necessity dictates I have to speak English.
It really is quite amazing that essentially the whole world speaks English, though. I mean, most of the people I encounter are in the service industry, and so it's basically a necessity, but I'm beginning to get the impression that English is really the language in which the world is conducted. And that is giving me this whole new interpretation of America's place in the world, and Great Britain's place before us. To be so powerful that the whole world basically defers to your language as the one in which business is done... that's an awful lot of responsibility. I don't think we, the civilians living our private lives in the States, have any conception of just how influential we have been politically in the last century. Like, really. That might sound arrogant, but the fact that I can go up to basically anyone on the street and say (in my Brit or Aussie accent, of course) something in English, and they will answer me in English says a whole lot about the state of the world today. It also indicates just how careful we should be with the power it connotes. Or connoted. I think the United States of America is in a weird position globally right now.
Anyway. Berlin. It's... functional. Well, if you think about it, the whole city was bombed the crap out of less than a century ago, and so obviously there are not a whole bevy of pretty old buildings the like of which I have become accustomed to. It's a very modern city, and it's huge. I'm fairly used to cities where you can walk from place to place without feeling like you're Forrest Gump (he ran, but you get my point), but let me just say that it's totally plausible for Berlin to have been divided into East and West little more than twenty years ago. There's certainly enough room.
My favorite residual little quirk from before the wall fell happens to be East Berlin's jaunty little traffic guys. They're hilarious... Google image them right now. I'll wait.
Aren't they funny? And they're also really handy, for when you are walking around, in orienting yourself with the past, as to what side of the wall you would have been on if you were there in 1988. I mean, if you're an American, you would be on the West side, or you would be dead, but the thought remains the same.
That was really the most striking thing about Berlin: the immediacy of it's history. I mean, each and every place I've been to has some big historical significance, and you've heard me rhapsodize about Rome and how replete with world-changing history it is, but Berlin changed the world while people I know were alive. I mean, I guess if I'm feeling crazy I could say that I spiritually know Michelangelo or something weird like that. But, I actually know people who are now and were then functionally alive when Germany brought the world to its knees. Walking past the Brandenburg Tor and the Reichstag brings to mind haunting, frightening images of Nazi soldiers goosestepping, of Hitler orating, his creepy side part sticking to his head with fervent persperation... it's all very real. And it all happened a very short while ago.
Berlin isn't a place that dwells on the past, though. Sure, the reminders are all around, even in the absence of something. In areas where there are large swaths of new-looking buildings, you know that a bomb was dropped. The lack of the wall has its own substance, consisting of plaques and flowers and memorials and curious people gazing from one side of an invisible void or the other.
But Berlin is a thoroughly modern, incredibly cosmopolitan city with a huge population of really diverse people. James and I had dinner at an Indian restaurant that was literally some of the best food I've had in a good long while. We walked through the museum island, where the natural history, fine art, history of Germany and other museums are located. It was a fun way to spend the day, especially with a new friend with whom I shared a language but absolutely not a culture. I forgot how revelatory asking questions of someone can be. Did you know Austrailians, as a people, hate Dr. Pepper? Neither did I.
From Berlin I headed to Prague, then Munich, Vienna and Budapest. Tomorrow I'm off to Beograd, from where I will head to Macedonia to visit my cousins Connor and Kacey, who are in the Peace Corps. Excited! I can't believe how fast the days are going; it seems completely improbable that I will be back in the States in less than a month. I'm just trying to soak it all up as much as I can until then. I guess, in a sense, going back to the States after all this time and all these new perspectives will be an adventure all it's own. Onward! More soon.
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