Category Archives: Places
Oslo
Norway has quite a beautiful countryside. Rolling hills mingle with flat areas and farms abut forests. Oslo is a city of some 600,000 to 800,000 people, 25 percent of whom were not born here. Oslo is very multicultural, as I discovered trying to communicate with the bus driver who was of Japanese origin. During the 40 minute ride from the airport to the city I took in the scenery.
Today was gorgeous, created specially for the weekend by the Norse travel bureau for filming, I’m sure. Silky white wisps adorned the pale blue sky and though the sun blazed the temperature was in the upper seventies. It seemed the majority of the citizens had been drawn to the Karl Johans Gate street and the waterfront area along the Rådhusgata. Stairs became benches and the grassy park areas were picnicked upon.
And I have now decided that Norway has stolen the title of the most beautiful women in Europe. In Poland I observed that about one in every 10 women 18-30 could be a model, and that one in 100 would leave you dumbstruck. From what I’ve seen here today I’d have to say that about the same percentage could be models, but it seems that even the ones I wouldn’t consider model-worthy are more attractive than those in Poland. And the occurrence of being dumbstruck is more common here.
But Norway isn’t all good things. In the early 1900s the government changed the name of it’s capital from Christiania to Oslo. Roald Dahl said it was a shame and he didn’t know why it was done. I think it started as a snide remark about the service in restaurants. O so slow. You get better service in Hell (also a city in Norway). I believe the custom must be to stalk your waiter and club them to get their attention. I’ve left two restaurants today after not being approached within fifteen minutes of sitting down. I finally did eat in a restaurant but had to practically throw myself in the path of the waitress to get a menu. After that I was attended to normally.
And Norwegians are quite pushy in a bar. They don’t try to squeeze through or tap people, they just walk forward chest first slamming into whoever is on their way, not caring if they spill beers or give you whiplash. It would be annoying except that the women do this too, which is fairly pleasant actually.
German White Asparagus
It’s in season here now and is only fresh for only a month to 5 weeks so Germans eat it by the kartful. It is much larger than the green variety and is quite tasty but has the same effects as it’s green cousin, namely the overdose of smelly vitamins you excrete later on. Try it with schnitzel, ham or salmon. Gutten apetit!
German General Weirdness
I’ve had an odd 24h in Germany so far. It’s mostly been experienced here in Frankfurt (am Main, nicht am Oder).
My first issue, and one I’ve had all across Europe, is that they have NO LAUNDROMATS in Germany. The hotels charge you a fortune ($3 for a pair of socks!) but the hostels will do it all for free.
Here’s another bit of weirdness: mobile phone data costs 220+ times here what it does in Poland. Now how does that work?! Germany is supposed to be a technological leader and yet the state to their east (whom they consider backward) has one of the cheapest and most reliable data networks I’ve found. In Poland it’s 0.02 PLN per 100kb on Heyah. The cheapest I’ve found here is 0.01 EUR per 1kb. And that is using my Irish SIM card! Other rates seem to be around 20-30 Eurocent per 1kb. It’s only $0.02 per 1kb to use my AT&T card from home.
Let’s talk logistics. I was trying to get from the Frankfurt (am Main) Hbf (train station) to my hotel last night. I took a cab because it was 3mi away and I was tired and it was late. I asked the cab driver if he knew the Sheraton at Lyoner Str. 44. He said “Yes” and so we went off to circle the Hbf a couple of times. 15 minutes later I figured the guy was lost when he pulled into the Radisson. Everybody knows that’s at Franklinstr. 65. But after I corrected him we were back on our way. Another 15 minutes later (and after having passed the Hbf again) we were at the right place.
Now tonight I was at the same place trying to get back to my hotel and, wary of the cabs, I decided I’d take the S-Bahn. Well I knew I wanted to head to the Niederrad stop so I went to the ticket machine and looked for it. It’s not there. Huh, that’s weird. So I went to the map on the wall to make sure of the spelling and on this map they spell it as F-Niederrad which makes sense when you consider that it’s in Frankfurt. OK, so now back to the ticket machine to find it. Still not there. They have F-Ndr-am Edulching Str. and F-Nieder-Frankensense and F-Nieder-Umlat, but my stop is nowhere to be found. So I wandered into a bookstore and, upon finding an English version of a Lonely Planet Germany book, researched how to get around in Frankfurt, thus doing a service to my gender the world over by not asking. It turns out that since Niederrad is in zone 50, you just have to get a Einzelfahrt Erwachsene ermassigt and you’re all set. Then you can get on the S7 to Reidstadt-Goddelau, the S8 to Wiesbaden Hbf (by way of Russelsheim and not Darmstadt Hbf obviously) or the S9 to Weisbaden Hbf (although it only runs once an hour) from one of the 28 platforms from which they may depart and you’re practically there already. How silly of me to miss such an obvious thing.
When I got up to get off the train (picked a winner the first time, surprisingly!), a German guy of about 25 who’d been laying across several seats with his sunglasses on began shouting. At nothing in particular, just kind of yelling in general. Some people said he must have been drinking. Some simply stared. I just hoped the door would hurry up and open because he was laying very close to me with his shoes off for what must have been the first time in a month. Going down the stairs off the platform some guy tried to stick his foot out and trip me. Why, I couldn’t say, but he did. And talking to himself all the while.
With just a few more yards (or meters) to go before I reached my hotel I noticed Polezi motorcycles coming down the street in motorcade formation, with each rider racing to the next street to cut off traffic. I didn’t see any limousines or anything but then I started hearing a noise and seeing a flashing light like it was a biker with a helmet (not Helmut) mounted light. It wasn’t a biker, it was 3 roller bladers. And behind them followed about a thousand. Just out for a midnight rollerblade. So I stood and watched the procession as they passed – I could hardly do otherwise as they were obscuring my path.
Germany’s a weird place, man.
iPhone Abroad
I’ve jailbroken my 3G iPhone so I can use it in Europe. AT&T can’t seem to figure out how to make their service work over here (no matter how many times I call and they tell me I’ll be able to use it) so I took it upon myself to do it. With the tools from the iphone-dev team it’s a snap. Turns out the iPhone works great here.
It will even do WiFi channels 12 and 13, verboten in the US, but loved by the Euros – possibly because our eqiupment can’t pick them up. Who would have thought Europeans would be exclusionary? So while the cafes and hotels are unapologetic to the legions of North Americans (yes, Canada, you’re screwed too) who can’t connect, I surf happily, albeit limitedly.
The first thing you’ll need to do when you get here is to grab a new SIM card. Check rates before you arrive and you can probably grab your choice at the airport in many cases. But keep in mind that roaming to a different country can get expensive, so don’t put a lot of money on the card unless you think you’ll use it all in that country. Since data and calling costs vary from country to country, you’ll have to figure out how much is right for you.
There are also some quirks to European networks. For example, it’s cheaper to call the US than Ireland from some Irish carriers like Vodaphone. Here’s another quirk: The O2 network in Ireland will charge you between twice and infinitely as much as you should pay. After “topping up” (adding money to the SIM) by 10 Euro, I visited the O2 website – 100kB, according to O2 themselves – and all my credit was gone. After topping up again, I used 5 Euro while my phone was off.
Something I’ve run into here a couple of times is that the SIM cards don’t work on the iPhone for data. I finally figured out why and after a few configuration changes, I was up and running. It turns out that there’s something called “APN settings” which consist of an APN name, username and password – all of which are well known, and all of which are different for each network. If you don’t have these, you can’t get online. There are lots of tutorials out there, but most of them are complicated or didn’t work for me. So here’s how I did it.
1. After you’ve got the SIM card in the iPhone, go to Settings -> General -> Network.
2. If you have the Cellular Data Network menu, enter your details there (google for your SIM card’s APN settings if they didn’t come with the package) and you should be set.
3. If you don’t have that, don’t fret. Turn your phone off, put in your old SIM card, and power it on. You should now have the menu. What use is the menu on the old network?
4. WARNING: RISK INVOLVED. But I’m guessing if you’ve jailbroken your iPhone you don’t care about that. So pop out your old SIM while the phone is still on and replace it with the new SIM card.
5. Configure your new SIM’s APN settings – you should see the 3G icon appear. If not, you may have to restart your phone.
6. Now you should be on the Internet! Impress your friends and the locals!
7. Don’t contact me if you have problems, this worked for me and that’s all I know.
FYI, for a pay-as-you-go SIM card on O2 UK, you have to change the APN to payandgo.o2.co.uk – leave the login and password the same (vertigo/password).
Who Survives A Plane Crash
Here’s a Q&A on the Freakonomics blog about who survives in a plane crash. Pretty good quick read.
http://freakonomics.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/01/23/who-lives-and-who-dies-in-a-plane-crash/
Poznan, Poland
It’s just after 10 here and the restaurant is becoming a bar. Poznan is a college town and the weekend starts on Thursday. More cigarettes are lit – Poland still allows people to embrace two vices at once. Ties slinker out, skirts hike up, somewhere a bassline thumps.
I’m eating at an outdoor tapas bar (no, not a topless bar) that has been bustling for a half hour. Gas flames fuel the night but soon the patrons will file inside and to the basement down the stairs that are likely to be narrow and somewhat uneven, leaving the patio a lonelier place.
But I’m working tomorrow. Maybe I won’t go to Berlin tomorrow night after all. I’m not ready yet to leave this country, and Poznan is a great place to make a last stand.
The State Of Polish Laundromats
There is one laundromat in Poland. It is in Krakow. That’s what I’m told at the desk of my hotel in Warsaw. “In Poland everyone has a laundry machine in their home. Not like in USA.” Well how about the other few dozen countries in Europe? Are there no laundromats there?
Maybe this is why Europeans have the reputation for smelling like they haven’t showered in weeks. I mean what’s the point if your clothes are going to stink?
So for the low, bargain, basement price of 76.5PLN (~$24) I can have three pairs of socks and three pairs of underwear laundered and returned to me tonight.
The alternative is to go to a hostel up the road. I can rent a dorm bed for 55PLN (~$17) and they’ll do all of my laundry for free. Then I come back in the morning and get it.
Back in Poland
I’m back in Poland, one of my favorite countries. It is vastly underrated by tourists (which is a good thing), though they’re wising up and coming more often (which is a bad thing). Every time I’m here I hear more and more English being spoken both by the natives and the travelers (which is both good and bad). It is home to some of the most beautiful women Europe has to offer and some of the friendliest and welcoming people I’ve met.
I arrived in Wroclaw at about 10am and headed to Magda’s house. She’s one of Jack’s cousins. We met and had some tea (herbata) and some snacks, as is the custom. And as is the custom she insisted that I bloat myself on the delights. After that I made plans to head to Krakow (pronounced Krakoov by the Poles) for the weekend since the weather was so nice.
I found the Mundo Hostel online and it looked good. It’s set on a quiet street just off the old town, on the way to the old Jewish section. I called and booked with them, promising to be there by 10pm, as my train was set to arrive at about 9. Well my train was an hour late leaving and couldn’t make up much time on the way (actually it was delayed more) so I called back and let them know since they made me promise I’d show up.
When I got to Krakow it was dark and I strolled around the old town for a bit looking at the sights. It’s a really pretty area. I went and checked into the hostel and asked if they knew any places that would be good to hang out on a Friday night. Anita and Michal (if you stop by tell them I said hello) were friendly and spoke great English and one thing led to another and we all sat down and chatted. I offered some of my Jameson that I’d brought from Dublin and we ended up talking all night, about politics, music, culture and the general state of the world. They also revealed that before I arrived they thought I’d be an old man who didn’t know what a hostel was and who would be upset about not having a TV and a phone and room service. Do I give off that impression?
One other thing we talked about was whether it was better to be blind since birth or to have had the sense at one time. Michal’s argument was that you wouldn’t miss seeing if you were born blind and therefore would be better off. My argument was that you could rely on your memories and, though you may miss seeing, you would be happier having once been able to appreciate the sighted world. I think his point of view boils down to: absence of feeling is better than pain. My position, however, is that pain is better than numbness. This is a basic philosophical argument to which there is no clear answer. Your view, I suppose, is based on your your tolerance for pain and your experience with loss. Can predictions be made from this hypothesis? I doubt it since there are only subjective measures of both. But I think it can give a heuristic premise from which to work.
With the sun threatening to rise we broke up the festivities and I decided I’d head to the Jewish area and get some pictures and maybe some breakfast. I stopped at the market and got some pickles and apples and bread and headed back. I passed out before I ate more than one pickle and one slice of the bread.
The next day was also gorgeous so I hung out in and around the old town, just relaxing and taking in the sights, smells and sounds. Time went by and day became night and I headed back to the Jewish section. There was a little bar called Propoganda that I wanted to go see. It was pretty cool with lots of crazy Communist era stuff on the walls, but there were too many tourists. I went to another place called Singer, named for the sewing equipment and it was cool, too, but with the same drawback. That’s the problem with the tourist towns, they’re overrun with tourists.
Sunday I headed back to Wroclaw to meet Magda, her daughter and Marysia, another of Jack’s cousins. We had Easter dinner together and had a great time. Monday we got up, had lunch and I was off for Warsaw and back to working life.
meanderingwoods 