"You won’t know, if you don’t go."
Berlin has so far been quite an experience. I know I pretty much always say that, but this time I really mean it. Which is not to say that I don´t mean it every other time either, but let´s move on.
I´ve been here since last Thursday, the humble guest of my gracious hosts, Miriam (of Miet and Miriam in Guatemala fame), and her very cool boyfriend, Tobias, who is a photojournalist for Reuters here in Berlin. It would have been enough for them to just let me crash at their very nice Berlin flat, and let me roam loose around the city with a metro map and their emergency contact info. But no, Miriam and Tobias wouldn´t stop there. Both have taken tons of time from their busy lives to take me around town amid the sights and sounds of Berlin. And there is no shortage of things to take in at this very dynamic, cosmopolitan and ever-evolving city, let me tell you.
We went and checked out a tour of the vast underground bunker system in Berlin. During WWII, the Germans constructed a bunker system that tied into the tunnels of their subway system. After the war was over, the West Germans expanded the bunker system even further to prepare for what then seemed the inevitable nuclear war against East Germany and the Soviet Union. These bunkers were designed to house a good few thousand people underground for as long as 1-2 months, if I understood Miriam and Tobi´s translations of the tour (which was in German).
The tour was pretty elaborate, and the guides showed us everything. This included some “secret” entrances and exits that were located in a couple of otherwise unsuspicious city subway stations. It was all quite impressive, and to think that it was fairly recent history that all these preparations were deemed necessary. Cool stuff.
Since then, I´ve been to the Brandenburg Gate, the site of Checkpoint Charlie, which was the only open access point between East and West Berlin. BTW, Berlin (East and West) was ENTIRELY within the boundaries of East Germany the time of the cold war, in case anyone was wondering. There is an incredible amount of construction and restoration going on in the area of the Brandenburg gate (well, the whole city for that matter), including a brand spanking new US Embassy which will be literally right next to the Brandenburg Gate (location, location, location, I guess.)
We also checked out the fairly new Holocaust Monument, next to the Brandenburg Gate. It is an amalgam of uneven and assymetrical polished concrete monoliths (which somewhat resemble graves) spread out over what is essentially one city block. It´s quite a solemn monument when you consider its scale and that of what it represents. I doubt anyone can walk away from it without a truly lasting impression.
Onward to the Potsdamer Platz, which until recently was a run-down part of East Berlin. It´s all newly built up with a quite contemporary district of housing, shops, entertainment complexes, music halls, and much more. The sheer size of the area is truly Vegas-scale. You can also see remnants of the Berlin Wall, which used to go right through this area, onward up to and then onward from the Brandenburg Gate. There is still a brick “line” that goes through the sidewalks, streets and so on marking where the wall actually used to stand. It´s wild to think that all of the changes I witnessed were the culmination of events that only really happened within the last 15-16 years.
We´ve been to several other parts of town, including the East Gallery, which is actually a section of the Berlin Wall that was built back up so it can be host to the creations of artists from all over the world.
I´d also gotten a nice taste of the nightlife and dining scene here in Berlin. Like most European cities, Berlin has no shortage of cafes, bars, and pubs. To have been able to see and feel the way Berliners really live, eat and drink is something special for me. Because it does not appear that many foreigners venture into the wider parts of the city. They tend to stick mostly to the central “tourist-friendly” districts.
Miriam and I met up with a couple of her friends (Sitha for dinner, and Cornelius for drinks afterward) on Friday. We got some dinner at a Mexican restaurant, and then onward to a typical Berlin bar in her neighborhood. Tobi met up with us after he finally got out of a party for Joe Jackson (Michael´s father) who was in Berlin for his birthday, which he had to shoot for Reuters. He was visibly in need of a beer, after what he said was a pointless and insane day.
On Saturday night, Miriam, a friend of hers Sina, a fellow physical therapist, and myself ventured out to get a taste of Berlin by night. Unfortunately, the first club we went to, where Miriam was supposed to meet up with some other friends wouldn´t let us in because we weren´t on the “the list”. We suspected that this was bullshit, because the doorman who gave us this news had no sign of a clipboard, notebook or whatnot on his person when he gave us this news. We later found out that Miriam´s friends had no trouble getting in later on, and there was no list. Geez.
After that debacle, we metro´d over to another nearby district to check out another club. After paying the cover, and going upstairs, the girls decided that it was no fun, and wanted to bail. Miriam went back to the door guy and made him give back the money we paid for the cover charge. I couldn´t believe that he did. She basically told him that it was me who wanted to leave and that I was disappointed in the club and it wasn´t what I was expecting in Berlin. So pin it on the lone American, thanks Miriam.
After that, we headed over to another club that was actually on a boat that was docked on the bank of the Spree River. It was supposedly a cool place, so we metro´d, needing to take something like 2 or 3 different trains to get there. Then there was a bit of a walk involved. It was already pushing something like 1-1:30 AM by this time. But Miriam and Sina pushed on, in search of that perfect nightspot (They were true party troopers!) Well we got to the place, and it was closed for a PRIVATE PARTY, Oy!
After that, we ended up going to another bar/boat close by on the river that was pretty cool. Should have just gone there in the first place. Tobi joined us a little while later, and we went and got some late night munchies at a Turkish restaurant.
Miriam wasn´t feeling too good yesterday, and Tobi had to work, so I ended up meeting up with her friend Sina in town in the late afternoon. She showed me a bit more around town. Sina is a former East German. In talking with her, I got a whole different perspective on life in Germany, namely East Berlin/East Germany during the “iron curtain” days.
This was all new for me, because she´s the first (and only) East German I´d really met. To hear her stories about life behind the wall, and how her relatives escaped East Germany during that regime was really something. She was 12 when the wall came down. And with that event, a whole new world opened up to her that she says she never even knew existed. She went on to tell me how they ventured out to Austria after the wall came down, and saw the vast Alpine mountains of Tyrol for the first time ever, and her mother could not believe what she was seeing. Many other stories in that vein. This was incredible stuff.
Then, after we walked from the park by the Dome Cathedral, she got the idea to head over to a monument that she had never looked at upclose. So we walked up to it. Through the bars at the door, we gazed at a statue of what appeared to a sad woman crutched down in sadness and despair. The statue was placed in the center of a large building that had nothing else in it, with nothing adorning the walls or anything. There was just a portico opening on the roof of it that let natural daylight fall on the statue in the center. The monument was actually for all the civilian dead of all wars, including the Jews, homosexuals, and other groups of people singled out during the Holocaust.
She went on to tell me that when she was a little girl she was never able to go up close to the monument, because at the time it was guarded at all times, and no one was ever allowed close to it. The only thing they were allowed to watch back then was the changing of the guard from a distance, but that was it. Like I said this was the FIRST TIME she ever looked at the monument upclose.
She said she had passed by this place numerous times over the years, but never thought about stopping to look at it. But today she did. You can see on her face the wonder and even relief for actually being there. It was plain to see that it was something she´d wanted to do for some time. It was quite an experience for someone like me who couldn´t possibly fathom going through something like what she did for the whole first half of her life. I was honored to be there for that little moment. Wow.
We later met up with Miriam and Tobi and enjoyed a real German dinner (I had lammbraten and Thuringian dumplings). Then we went to one of Berlin´s artsier districts and checked out a neat little bar that was on top of an art-house cinema theater. It would have been nice to stay longer, but everyone had to work the next day, so we had to go after a drink or so.
I´m still here for probably another day, and then it´s onward to Hamburg. From there, it´s still a little hazy, but hopefully I´ll have a good idea of where I´m going from there before I leave here.
Then, you never know.
Comment from: mietsie [Visitor]
Wow, I’m impressed by your writing,
Berlin seems to be a city with a soul…
love
mietsie
Comment from: Judy [Visitor]
Tony,
You should submit your “findings” for a travel book, or better yet, write some articles. You are a very good storyteller…how come I never knew that about you???
XO
Judy
Our time in Barcelona was rather short and sweet. Mietsie and I flew out on a Virgin flight early last Thursday morning from Brussels, and had to fly out on Sunday morning. I didn’t get much sleep the night before on account of staying out late with Raf, Mietsie, Miet and Cil. It was a strange “reunion” of sorts for the Belgians and me, whose common bond was that they had all did time onboard Andiamo.
So the morning we arrived in Barcelona, I was quite exhausted and needed to get some serious sleep. So upon checking into the hotel, I did just that.
After a few good hours of coma time, we managed to get out of the hotel and venture out into town. Lucky for us, our original hotel that we booked had some problems with their AC, so they moved us to a more centrally-located (and higher star) hotel about two blocks off “La Rambla”, which is essentially the main strip of Barcelona. We spent the afternoon essentially walking around, and getting a feel for the city. For me, it had been more than 20 years since I was last here with the Navy. Mietsie had been here just a few years ago, so she was more in tune with where everything was.
Barcelona went through lots of changes as a result of their hosting the Olympics in ’92. The beachfront area was COMPLETELY different from what I last saw. Back then, it was a somewhat urban and dirty beach area. The beach itself wasn’t bad, but everything around it was not too pretty.
The beachside now is a lively district with a boardwalk promenade that goes along the entire strand of “La Barceloneta”. At one end, there is the harbor, main marina, which is home to alot of boats, including many mega-yachts. On the other end, is the new marina that was built specifically for the Olympics sailing events. That marina is now home to several hundred sailboats and private yachts. The former “Olympic Village” comprises of two hi-rise towers that now consist of offices, condos and apartments. All around there are shops, restaurants and lots of nightspots.
I was really impressed at the changes, I remembered Barcelona pretty well from my multiple visits with the Saratoga back in my navy days. The “La Rambla” area and the center of the city remained pretty much the same as I remember it. The only negative to me that stood out this time that existed then was the dirtiness and dankness of the old part of the city.
For the most part, I found myself wanting to be around the boats and the water. On both afternoons of the full days we had in Barcelona, we were on the beach. It was much too hot to walk around and be “tourists” per se’. Since we’d both been there already, it’s not like we had to walk through the whole town. So instead, we just hung out by the shore. Besides, my “yachtie” tan has greatly diminished since me leaving Guatemala, and we can’t have that! I found myself really wishing I can sail a boat while I was there. The breezes were awesome on those days, and there were several boats heading in and out. I even checked into renting a boat for a half day or so, but it didn’t pan out unfortunately, as most places I talked required advance reservations.
The nights in Barcelona were quite lively. There were many cafes and pubs to hang out at, and we tried to hang out at least a few of the good ones. Off La Rambla, there are lots of small winding streets that are home to many very different and very colorful watering holes, and eating establishments.
Then the 2nd night we were there, I found a CASINO with a poker room right off the beach! And boy, was I in the mood for some good Texas Hold ‘Em. So for a couple of hours, I played and actually won some Euros! We went to the Baja Beach Club just outside the casino by the beach to celebrate my victory.
By the time 3AM rolled around, we decided it was time to head back. But trying to get a cab proved to be quite the task. Then, when we finally did get a free cab, this freaked out British chick and these two other dweebs that were with her, waylaid the cab literally from underneath us. It was unbelievable, I had never seen anything so blatant in my life. If I were still in LA mode, there would have been some trouble I suspect, but I just shrugged it off after a few minutes of utter shock and disbelief at how low some people can go. We did manage to get a cab not too long after that whole thing.
Our last evening there, I went back to the casino to play a little more poker, and in doing so gave back some of my previous nights’ winnings, but hey, that’s how it goes. I still managed to stay in the black. We had a late night pizza, and had a couple of drinks at a pub.
We had to fly out Sunday morning at 10 AM, so that meant that we had to be at the airport at something like 8 AM. So needless to say we had to keep things a bit subdued on Saturday night.
We made it back to Hasselt with no problems. After a little rest, I’ll be making my way through Germany, Czech Republic and perhaps a little bit of Scandinavia before having to make my way to Croatia by mid-August. I have to be in Croatia by then because I’ll be volunteering in a dolphin research project that I signed up for. It all sounds quite fascinating, and it will give me something “non-touristy” to do. So I’m looking forward to that.
So the trek continues, and man is time going by fast! 
Comment from: mietsie [Visitor]
Hi captain,
I really enjoyed travelling with you yachtie, Paris and Barcelona were fantastic short trips, maybe we can do it again! ‘What do ya think?’ 😉
mietsie
After leaving Frederik in Utrecht, I headed up to Amsterdam for a couple of days. Amsterdam is one of my all-time favorite cities. I have been here several times in my life, and always manage to feel at home here. I can easily get around this city as if I’d grown up here. I used to have quite a few friends that live here, but unfortunately, I fell out of touch with most of them over the years, something I regret. A new friend, Linda, who came with Miet to Andiamo back in Utila, lives in Amsterdam. However she was not quite yet back from Guatemala, so I’m sure I will see her on my next swing through later this summer. I nonetheless managed to hang out in town, do a little bit of shopping. More than anything though, just generally hang out and relax, Amsterdam style. Lodging was a bit of a problem, since the town was jammed with tourists and backpackers. I managed to get a bed onboard an old dutch freighter called the “Marietta” in the North Harbor. It had been converted into a funky floating hostel. It proved to be interesting yet comfortable with a good crowd of backpackers. A clean, cheap, place to stay.
Since getting to Europe, I managed to catch up with Nathalie, an ex-girlfriend of mine from about, oh, 18 years ago! Nathalie and I met when she was in Daytona working as an au pair for a Dutch family who lived part-time in the US. I was in the Navy at the time, stationed onboard the Saratoga out of Jacksonville. But I was spending alot of time in Daytona, my hometown (I HATED Jacksonville that much). Nathalie and I met a few times at a local nightspot, and started seeing each other. By the time all was said and done, we had spent almost three years together. I did come to Holland for the first time ever to meet up with Nathalie and her family during that time, and really got to know Holland thanks to her. Her family was incredibly gracious to me during that first stay and I never forgot that.
Nathalie got really homesick, went back to Holland, we fell out of touch, as it often goes. Then out of the blue about 9 or 10 years ago, we regained contact thanks to the net. Over the years since then, we have been in and out of touch sporadically via email.
I figured since I was wandering the continent for the summer, I could at least stop by for a visit. I knew Nathalie was in a longtime relationship, and had a daughter and a stepson. I was really curious to catch up. So after a couple of emails and a couple more phone calls, we managed to get a day nailed down where I can come by her hometown of Veneendaal to meet up. So I grabbed a train to there from Rotterdam.
She was at the train station with Marcel, her beau, when I arrived. She hadn’t changed all that much, I recognized her straight away. It was really good seeing her after all these years. Marcel, a working musician, seemed like a pretty casual, cool guy.
Back at their house, I met her daughter Melody, who is 10, and her stepson, Danny, who is 16. We had a few drinks, talked a lot about everything that’s happened over the years. They also took me over to see her parents, which was really something. Her dad had gone through some pretty serious health problems over the past year, but was doing much better, and he looked really good and fit, which was indeed a relief considering everything he’d gone through. Her mom was as sweet and hospitable as ever.
After having dinner with Nathalie and her family, and then spending a night in Veenendaal at their place, I caught a train to Rotterdam the next morning. I was going there to go hang out with Lotte and Pauline (aka the self-proclaimed “Dutch Bitches”), who were now back from traveling in Central America for about a month. They met me at Rotterdam Central Station. Both looked great and very “Dutch” again. I guess they re-acclimated themselves, and their wardrobes, back to Holland mode. But both insisted that they were not happy to be back. Surely that’s normal after traveling abroad for 8+ months.
It was a bit strange for me though, being back in Rotterdam. See, this is where Mahi and I first lived when we got together almost 15 years ago. After our initial meetings in Rome and Greece, respectively, while we were traveling, I told her I would come to Rotterdam to visit. I was due to pass through Holland before heading off back to the states and St. Thomas, where I was living at the time. It was supposed to be not much more than a week or so long visit, with the hope of seeing each other again sometime in the future. I ended up staying with her in Rotterdam for almost three months before finally having to go back due to being totally broke. We did meet up again in St. Thomas three months later, and got married. Those days in Rotterdam were happy, special times. At least until I had to deal with all the destructive “stuff” that can really spoil or kill even the good memories you wish you can keep good. Well, guess that’s what I had to deal with on this visit to Rotterdam.
It was just strange being back here, where it all began. It felt like just yesterday that we were bopping around town on the bus and the metro. Walking through the Lijnbaan, which is essentially a huge shopping district in the heart of Rotterdam. Walking along the harborfront, hanging out in cafes, drinking beer, and so on. It didn’t help that the first 2 places Lotte and Pauline took me to were places Mahi and I used to go! I guess it was therapeutic, and inevitable that I return here at this still changing, sometimes painful, stage of my life. There was surely alot of pain and funkiness involved in doing so. Just find myself wondering how things turned out the way they did when you think of the wonderful times that preluded. More so when during our “glory days” in Rotterdam, the future looked so very promising and wonderful for us. Guess things aren’t always what they seem.
Ok, enough lamenting…
So Lotte had to go and do a babysitting thing the night I was there, so once the afternoon gathering had to end, it would be just Pauline and me. I got to meet Pauline’s whole family, who invited me to stay at their house that night. Pauline and I then went and got some dinner, have a few drinks, and then go see “War of the Worlds” (I thought it was just “ok”, btw). After the movie, Pauline and I proceeded to hit some local dance spots to get caught up on our crazy dancing. We even found a cool latin club! Things went by so fast, and before we knew it, it was past 4 AM! We walked back to Pauline’s house as the sky got light with dawn.
For my next stop, I really wanted to get to Copenhagen for a few days before heading back to Belgium. I didn’t have to get back to Hasselt until Thursday at the latest to meet up with Mietsie so we can go to Paris. Miet (the other Miet), was due to arrive back in Hasselt that coming Wednesday from Guatemala, and I was invited to her welcome back party. While still at Pauline’s, I desperately tried to find a cheap and fast way to get to Copenhagen to fill in those few days. I couldn’t nail anything down from Pauline’s house on Sunday, so I decided that I would head back to Amsterdam and try from there.
So I said my goodbyes to Pauline and her family, and grabbed a train to Amsterdam Sunday evening. I figured at the least I can look at my options for trains and the Eurolines bus from there on Monday. I got a bed back at the Marietta, the floating hostel.
The next morning, I first tried to line up a Eurolines bus to Copenhagen, then a train. The whole thing turned out to be a fiasco, and not worth the time or the money. Further compounding things was that rooms and hostels in Copenhagen appeared to be pretty booked up, as I couldn’t confirm a single bed online. So I regrettably scrapped my Copenhagen plans, and decided to head back to Belgium a little early so at the very least, I can make Miet’s party 2 nights later.
So I got a good couple more days R&R from riding the rails and living out of my bag, courtesy of my “Belgian connections”. I hung out with Mietsie and Raf for the time, then of course made Miet’s party, which was great fun. It was really good seeing her again, although I’m not sure how thrilled she was to be home. Same thing as Lotte and Pauline, I suspect. Except for a minor “accident” that Mietsie had while we were driving around town, things were pretty quiet and relaxed. We did go out a couple of nights to meet up with some local pals, but that was about it.
Then, last Thursday, I got first wind of the news out of London while I was online answering some emails. It freaked me out as I mentioned in my previous post, considering that I was just there. I couldn’t help but feel for the Londoners, knowing that their sense of security was now blown apart. I was super-relieved to hear back from all my London friends that they were ok, though. I had to admire the way the Brits took the whole thing in stride, without excessive drama and such. It showed them at their best. Despite the horrors of what happened, they essentially just picked themselves up, dusted themselves off, and went on. Sure, they took the necessary time to grieve and mourn the incredible loss of life, but they kept going. Gotta love em for that. Now I really understand why the Nazis couldn’t bomb London into submission.
So on Friday, Mietsie and I headed off to Paris. We grabbed an obscenely early morning train to Brussels, and then the high-speed Thalys train from there to Paris. We were in Paris early enough for breakfast. After checking into the hotel, we ventured out. The first day was pretty relaxed. We bopped around town, found a cafe to people watch from, and laid low. We took the metro down to Centre Pompidou, where we hung around a bit. Then, Mietsie had this idea to have an incredible french dining experience, at PIZZA HUT, of all places.
We had the idea to go back to the hotel, freshen up and head back out for the night. But once we got back to the room, we ended up crashing. The next day, we headed over to the Eiffel Tower. Despite the fact that Mietsie had been to Paris before, she had never been up the Eiffel Tower. Unbelievable. So even though I had already been there, done that, and gotten the t-shirt, I obliged.
Being that it’s the thick of the summer tourist season, and that the Eiffel tower has this uncanny way of attracting, oh I don’t know, every tourist in Paris, the place was packed. There were lines a mile long for each of the two running elevators. We thought we found the shorter line of them, but it ended up being for the access up the first floor of the tower via the stairs only. Well, we were already in the line, and it was moving pretty quick. So we stayed with it. The climb up wasn’t all that bad to the first level. Once there, we were able to walk around, enjoy some of the view and have a coke. Then, for a couple more euros, you can buy your way to the top via the elevator. Lucky for us, the weather was awesome. The view was really something. That view can humble and awe-strike even the crustiest, sullen, and jaded traveler, no doubt about it.
After that, we walked up to the Jardin des Tuileries. We had some snacks, and lazed around in the park. Mietsie had this burning urge to go to Rue de Rivoli, where all the “beaucoup-bucks” stores are. So we did that for awhile, gawking at horrendously overpriced stuff. This place was worse than Rodeo Drive I tell you! The walking got a bit old, so we took a break, but not before getting on the huge ferris wheel back at the Jardin des Tuileries.
After hitting a couple more cafes, we headed back toward Centre Pompidou, where we found a great Greek restaurant for dinner. Again, we had the idea to go back to the hotel, clean up and head back out. But that didn’t happen yet again.
On our final day in Paris, I wanted to check out Perè Lachaise. This is the famous cemetery that is home to the bones of some very impressive people. Oscar Wilde, Chopin, Simone Signoret, Edith Piaf and of course the Lizard King himself, Jim Morrison, are all planted here. The last time I was in Paris (which was actually about my third time there overall), I thought I spotted Pere Lachaise from the Eiffel Tower. I told Mahi that after coming down from the tower, we should go over to it to see if we can find Jim Morrison’s grave. Well, it turned out to be Montparnasse. And while it was the final resting place of lots of other French people, even some famous French people, it wasn’t where Mr. Mojo was buried. Guess I should have just checked a guidebook. So alas, this was my chance to right that horrible wrong.
We got to Perè Lachaise by just about lunchtime. I knew we were at the right place this time because the place was packed with mostly backpackers (surely to see Jim Morrison’s grave). But there were lots of other tourists, and families to view the many other graves there.
It was good and somewhat significant for me to see Morrison’s grave. Call it a pilgrimage if you must. Though I’d hate to be lumped in with all those crazy fans who spend way too much time hanging out at a gravesite. Once was enough for me, thanks.
Unlike the mostly 20-something kids checking out the grave while I was there, I was actually alive during the Doors’ short career. I know it sounds silly but the very first 2 45’s I ever bought on my own were The Doors’ “Riders on the Storm”, and “Maybe Tomorrow” by the Jackson 5. I was five years old. I remember bugging my mom everyday that summer until she finally took me to Woolworth’s at Ford City shopping center in Chicago to buy those two records. I played them until I knew every note, every rest, every nuance.
And here is the funniest thing. After listening to the 45 of “Riders” for weeks after buying it, I heard the album version of the song on the radio one day. It was considerably longer, and much much more fascinating to me than the 3-minute “radio-friendly” version I had! I was pissed! I felt like I had been totally gipped! The album version was the one that I really wanted after that. I didn’t get it until I was about maybe 15, a good ten years later.
The Doors was just one of those enduring players in the soundtrack of my life. When I hear certain Doors songs, I go back to a specific moment or event of my life that is captioned by the particular song. I hadn’t thought about that for awhile, a long while, until I was actually standing in front of Jim’s grave. I was brought somewhat full circle when I take my life into account. It was better that I had waited until this particular time in my life to actually be there. There was a reason that this “pilgrimage” needed to wait. These are the things that you begin to understand with age and experience, I guess.
We did get to see all the other “famous” graves by the way. Amazing how much greatness you can get into one cemetery. Even the people who were not famous to me, were impressive, and you can tell that they lived interesting lives. You can tell by their headstones, crypts and sometimes incredibly ostentatious mausoleums. They and their fellow family members buried with them bore some kind of important significance. And there was a reason why, for at least a good chunk of them, other than money, status, and even sheer geographics, they were buried at Perè Lachaise.
I got a peculiar vibe being here, because mortality had been a the order of the day as of late. About the same time I was perusing graves at Pere Lachaise, my sister Judy was in Brazil burying Pop’s ashes next to our grandmother’s grave per his wishes. It took awhile for Judy to cut through the red tape, and to get a good travel window. I would have liked to have been there for that. But logistics were not in my favor, and maybe I just wasn’t ready. Then there was the death and destruction that hit relatively “close to home” due to my connection with London just last week. So, mortality was undeniably a prevailing theme.
After checking out of our hotel, we had a few hours to kill, so we walked along the Seine, ate sandwiches on the river bank, and watched the tourist boats go by. We walked by the Louvre and found the production site for the filming of “Da Vinci Code”. I got the kooky idea to call my brother in law Craig in LA to see if he can get us on the set. Craig’s a big-time hollywood writer and columnist, who knows pretty much everybody in the biz. He said he could try to get us on, but not anytime soon. So that adventure would have to wait for another day, I’m afraid. Wish I’d have thought of it earlier.
Before long, it was time to catch the train back to Belgium. Tomorrow, we will make our way to Barcelona, which is yet another place I had been to in a previous chapter of that thing we call life.
That’s the word that comes to mind. For a week until about 2 weeks ago, I was in London, visiting friends, enjoying the sunshine/warm weather, and hopping around the city on the “tube” (London’s subway system). Now today, I see all over the news that a series of terrorist bombs went off all over London this morning, in several underground stations no less. Not only that, they were stations that I used extensively during my stay there. Edgware Road, Liverpool Street, Aldgate, were among three stations that were bombed that I was in and out of all the time during my stay. I can still picture all the tube riders I observed during my rides. Most were wearing shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops, on their way to the park, work or wherever they were heading in the great summer weather. Everyone in great spirits, smiles and laughs everywhere. I remember saying to myself what a great time to be in London. To think that “vibe” can be all but vaporized in a few mere seconds is pretty tragic.
The first thing I thought about after hearing that Aldgate station was hit, was about my friend Steffenie. She uses Aldgate every day to commute to work, and all I can do was hope that she wasn’t hurt or worse in the blast. I emailed her, and thankfully she was able to email me back and tell me that she was ok, though very shaken. In fact, she said, the only reason she missed the blast at Aldgate was because she ran five minutes late getting out of the house this morning. Unbelievable.
I’m still waiting to hear back from Rosie, and I can only hope that she’s ok too. The news gets worse and worse, with the fatality rate at 20 and counting. It’s clear that this was bad from the pictures of pandemonium and destruction caused by the blasts. I fear that the news will be much worse as the day rolls along.
Like I said, surreal.
Comment from: Flavia [Visitor]
I’m so relieved to know that you were not in London for this horrible incident. I hope your friends are all ok, too.
Love you,
Flavia
Comment from: Janenator [Visitor]
I immediately thought of you when we heard the news this morning. I’m glad you posted so soon and that all is well. I hope you hear from all your friends to know that they are ok.
Safe travels!
Love, Janenator
That’s the word that comes to mind. For a week until about 2 weeks ago, I was in London, visiting friends, enjoying the sunshine/warm weather, and hopping around the city on the “tube” (London’s subway system). Now today, I see all over the news that a series of terrorist bombs went off all over London this morning, in several underground stations no less. Not only that, they were stations that I used extensively during my stay there. Edgware Road, Liverpool Street, Aldgate, were among three stations that were bombed that I was in and out of all the time during my stay.
I can still picture all the tube riders I observed during my rides. Most were wearing shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops, on their way to the park, work or wherever they were heading in the great summer weather. Everyone in great spirits, smiles and laughs everywhere. I remember saying to myself what a great time to be in London. To think that “vibe” can be all but vaporized in a few mere seconds is pretty tragic.
The first thing I thought about after hearing that Aldgate station was hit, was about my friend Steffenie. She uses Aldgate every day to commute to work, and all I can do was hope that she wasn’t hurt or worse in the blast. I emailed her, and thankfully she was able to email me back and tell me that she was ok, though very shaken. In fact, she said, the only reason she missed the blast at Aldgate was because she ran five minutes late getting out of the house this morning. Unbelievable.
I’m still waiting to hear back from Rosie, and I can only hope that she’s ok too. The news gets worse and worse, with the fatality rate at 20 and counting. It’s clear that this was bad from the pictures of pandemonium and destruction caused by the blasts. I fear that the news will be much worse as the day rolls along.
Like I said, surreal.
