Friday, June 5, 2009
30 Mai 2009 - Berlin
A full day-- full of family, food, and rain. Thank goodness I brought my rainboots.
My day began with this pastry for breakfast-- ein Igel (a hedgehog). It was so cute, that I almost couldn't eat it.
My next stop was a Grillfest with cousins, friends, and neighbors.
There was lots of meat (including lamb kidney, which is apparently a delicacy here in Germany) and lots of wonderful company!
My next stop was shopping in berlin with S, a feat made much more difficult by the hordes of Fußball (soccer) fans that crowded everywhere. The rain didn't stop them, common decency didn't stop them-- the green-and-white people were everywhere.
We ended our shopping excursion at the Kaufhaus des Westins (KaDeWe), a HUGE store at the end of the Kudamm. After looking at the some of the many floors of the store, we made it to the top and enjoyed crepes with vanilla creme-- S's favorite.
My day began with this pastry for breakfast-- ein Igel (a hedgehog). It was so cute, that I almost couldn't eat it.
My next stop was a Grillfest with cousins, friends, and neighbors.
There was lots of meat (including lamb kidney, which is apparently a delicacy here in Germany) and lots of wonderful company!
My next stop was shopping in berlin with S, a feat made much more difficult by the hordes of Fußball (soccer) fans that crowded everywhere. The rain didn't stop them, common decency didn't stop them-- the green-and-white people were everywhere.
We ended our shopping excursion at the Kaufhaus des Westins (KaDeWe), a HUGE store at the end of the Kudamm. After looking at the some of the many floors of the store, we made it to the top and enjoyed crepes with vanilla creme-- S's favorite.
28 Mai 2009 - Berlin
The best sushi in Berlin, Germany, perhaps the world: Sachiko Sushi, by Savigny Platz.
It's the first sushi bar in Berlin with boats (and perhaps the very first sushi bar in Berlin, hands-down). In any case, it's owned by my relatives (so perhaps I'm a little biased), but everyone who I have brought here to eat has absolutely loved it. No question. Apparently people come to Berlin expressly to find Sachiko (it's being filmed constantly for movies, TV, usw.)-- it's a little difficult to find, but totally worth it.
It's the first sushi bar in Berlin with boats (and perhaps the very first sushi bar in Berlin, hands-down). In any case, it's owned by my relatives (so perhaps I'm a little biased), but everyone who I have brought here to eat has absolutely loved it. No question. Apparently people come to Berlin expressly to find Sachiko (it's being filmed constantly for movies, TV, usw.)-- it's a little difficult to find, but totally worth it.
27 Mai 2009 - Potsdam, Germany
For our excursion, we headed back to Potsdam, to Cecilienhof.
On the way, we stopped by Grünewald, a train station en route. This set of tracks is nearby the station, no longer being used. It's a memorial-- hundreds of thousands of Jewish people were deported from Berlin, traveling along the tracks to the end. It's a striking memorial, in my book. The tracks disappear into a strand of trees, dropping from sight before too long.
Once in Potsdam, we headed to Cecilienhof, a castle built by Kaiser Wilhelm II., for his son, the crown prince. It's the last palace built by the Hohenzollern dynasty.
The castle, with its intricate, yet unorderly gardens, is designed to look like an English Tudor country house-- but much bigger.
Cecilienhof is situated on the edge of Jungfernsee and you can see the waters of the lake from almost any point on the property.
There are many courtyards and terraces to enjoy around the castle. Cecilienhof was the site of the Potsdam Conference, in 1945. Stalin, Truman, and Churchill (and later, the newly-elected Attlee) met as representatives of the Big Three to decide what to do with the newly-defeated Germany.
The Potsdam Conference resulted in the Potsdam Declaration, which gave Japan an ultimatum, among other measures for Germany.
The half-timbered design of the castle is charming, and the interior is the same. There is one room in the castle that is decorated to look like a ship's cabin-- complete with sloped floors, furniture that is attached to the floor and walls, dangling lamps, and portholes.
Some of us decided to walk over to the Marmour Palais (marble palace), a little ways away. We passed this pyramid on the way-- a random Egyptian structure, complete with hiroglyphics, in the middle of a German forest. Wierd.
The Marble Palace looked cool from the outside (I counted at least 5 different kinds of marble) but we didn't go inside, as most of it was under reconstruction and they wouldn't give us the discount.
On the way back to Potsdam center, I passed this bench.
A pair of installations in the center of Potsdam-- one, the far structure, is a memorial, I believe. However, I'm not sure what for.
On the way, we stopped by Grünewald, a train station en route. This set of tracks is nearby the station, no longer being used. It's a memorial-- hundreds of thousands of Jewish people were deported from Berlin, traveling along the tracks to the end. It's a striking memorial, in my book. The tracks disappear into a strand of trees, dropping from sight before too long.
Once in Potsdam, we headed to Cecilienhof, a castle built by Kaiser Wilhelm II., for his son, the crown prince. It's the last palace built by the Hohenzollern dynasty.
The castle, with its intricate, yet unorderly gardens, is designed to look like an English Tudor country house-- but much bigger.
Cecilienhof is situated on the edge of Jungfernsee and you can see the waters of the lake from almost any point on the property.
There are many courtyards and terraces to enjoy around the castle. Cecilienhof was the site of the Potsdam Conference, in 1945. Stalin, Truman, and Churchill (and later, the newly-elected Attlee) met as representatives of the Big Three to decide what to do with the newly-defeated Germany.
The Potsdam Conference resulted in the Potsdam Declaration, which gave Japan an ultimatum, among other measures for Germany.
The half-timbered design of the castle is charming, and the interior is the same. There is one room in the castle that is decorated to look like a ship's cabin-- complete with sloped floors, furniture that is attached to the floor and walls, dangling lamps, and portholes.
Some of us decided to walk over to the Marmour Palais (marble palace), a little ways away. We passed this pyramid on the way-- a random Egyptian structure, complete with hiroglyphics, in the middle of a German forest. Wierd.
The Marble Palace looked cool from the outside (I counted at least 5 different kinds of marble) but we didn't go inside, as most of it was under reconstruction and they wouldn't give us the discount.
On the way back to Potsdam center, I passed this bench.
A pair of installations in the center of Potsdam-- one, the far structure, is a memorial, I believe. However, I'm not sure what for.
24 Mai 2009 - Berlin
Picnic number two am Wannsee-- this time, with grilling.
It was just hot enough outside and there was just enough food to keep us procrastinating (from finishing our essays) all afternoon.
I managed to take a picture of the awesome swing that was at the house-- and then promptly broke it (temporarily).
The garden is lovely-- flowers everywhere.
On our walk back, I took this picture from Wannsee Brücke (Wannsee bridge). There were sailboats and ferries and people everywhere-- it's really becoming summer.
It was just hot enough outside and there was just enough food to keep us procrastinating (from finishing our essays) all afternoon.
I managed to take a picture of the awesome swing that was at the house-- and then promptly broke it (temporarily).
The garden is lovely-- flowers everywhere.
On our walk back, I took this picture from Wannsee Brücke (Wannsee bridge). There were sailboats and ferries and people everywhere-- it's really becoming summer.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
17. Mai - Mailand, Italien
We arose, bright and early, and enjoyed a dubious ,,Italian Breakfast", courtesy of our hostel. We were less than impressed, however, being used to hearty German bread and the accompanying accessories of jam, chocolate, meats, usw.
We headed to Milan Castle, using the less-frequent metros to navigate (somewhat) deftly around the city. We found this installation outside the Moscova Station. It's a needle and thread.
The end of the thread stuck out of a fountain--loose, as if the needle had not been pulled tightly yet.
This is a glimpse of the Moscova Station from the outside. This man just happened to be standing outside, his pants the exact shade of firefighter red as the columns.
Milan Castle. We had arisen so early that no one but us (including other tourists) was walking around.
The castle held a large courtyard and the walls were surrounded by a perhaps-once-full moat. The detail of the brickwork was fantastic-- and the colours were faded, but delicate.
The entry gate of the castle. A street seller came up to us and tried to get us to buy bracelets from Africa, and we were forced to speak only German in order to get him to walk away in confusion.
The courtyard was unnervingly littered with stone coffins, partial statues and cats-- cats that were everywhere.
Milan Castle was home to five museums-- all of which we strode through. And the combination ticket was only 1.50 Euro.
The museums were surprisingly well designed, with one leading right to another without awkwardness or pause. The path through the museums wandered around the walls surrounding the courtyard, tripped through hidden courtyards and gardens, rose up to the top of a turret and then back down to the cellar for the Egyptian collection. Wonderful.
The furniture and interior museum was especially fine-- again, Italian design is just... fabulous.
The vaulted ceilings were brightly coloured, often the only spots of colour in the dark rooms.
Some of the collections reminded me of the Green Vault in Dresden. This ship was similar to one we saw there. It was carved out of a shell, so delicately cut and shaped.
One of the museums contained musical instruments-- many of them odd and intricate, many of which I had never seen before.
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We left the castle and I headed to the design museum that was nearby in the park, La Triennale di Milano. The permanent exhibition was fantastic-- it showcased almost all of the iconic designs that have come out of Italy in the past eighty years or so. Even the building itself (as well as the design of the exhibition) was seamless-- which I really enjoyed, after enduring a few German museums with poor layout and flow. I really enjoyed seeing the chairs, the tables, the cars, the lamps and centerpieces in person, to see the sleek designs with my own eyes rather than merely in magazine photos. One of the exciting aspects of the exhibit was the very recent, sustainable and ecological design, concepts that many Italian designers have recently been playing with, to great effect and success (so far).
The special exhibit, however, was truly special. As it was in Italian, I'm not sure that I entirely understood it, but it was spectacular. It was titled, ,,Il Fiore di Novembre". The exhibition has the layout of a flower, appearing from the front as a rose.
I thought it was a 2D representation of a flower, until I saw a person walk through one of the layers. It was created out of thousands and thousands of tiny tiles, that were red, maroon, and black.
The viewer, after observing the red-tiled rose from the front, can walk along a darkened corridor (which is interspersed with video installations) and enter each of the ,,slices" of the flower. Each slice has a different theme: City, Gravity, Venus, and finally, Love. Each slice had black and white graphics on the walls, all in accordance to the theme, and white installations. Some were furniture, some were sculptures, and more. The lights are red, and slowly dim and then glow more strongly, set to a soundtrack of (somewhat) new-age music. Sounds rather kooky, but it was mesmerizing.
I then went back to the city center, to the Duomo. This time, I managed to gain entry (after switching from my open-toed sandals to heels) and enjoyed a few minutes in the cool darkness of the cathedral. I saw this staircase outside a building nearby.
I then headed to over to more museums, but was thwarted by a bike race that ran through the middle of Milan. The path was blocked off from both sides, so it took me awhile to figure out how to get to the other side of the race without being run down by a crowd of intense bikers. I finally went underneath, through a metro station and came up, all the while being harassed by various street vendors (I figured out that the best way to avoid them was to merely speak German, which left them supremely confused).
I went to the Palazzo Reale, a castle that hosts mutiple museusms. I had read about an Italian furniture and interiors exhibition in the NYTimes article, so I was really looking forward to walkign through the exhibit. It was great-- old, ancient, beautiful pieces of design and furniture arranged around modern pieces, covered with gauze. Strange, wierd, but fabulous.
I noticed this right before I left the city to head to the airport, but the little drink/gelatto stands also sold fresh coconut! All of the stands had these little platforms with slices of fresh coconut, dripping with water. They were like little coconut fountains.
We headed to Milan Castle, using the less-frequent metros to navigate (somewhat) deftly around the city. We found this installation outside the Moscova Station. It's a needle and thread.
The end of the thread stuck out of a fountain--loose, as if the needle had not been pulled tightly yet.
This is a glimpse of the Moscova Station from the outside. This man just happened to be standing outside, his pants the exact shade of firefighter red as the columns.
Milan Castle. We had arisen so early that no one but us (including other tourists) was walking around.
The castle held a large courtyard and the walls were surrounded by a perhaps-once-full moat. The detail of the brickwork was fantastic-- and the colours were faded, but delicate.
The entry gate of the castle. A street seller came up to us and tried to get us to buy bracelets from Africa, and we were forced to speak only German in order to get him to walk away in confusion.
The courtyard was unnervingly littered with stone coffins, partial statues and cats-- cats that were everywhere.
Milan Castle was home to five museums-- all of which we strode through. And the combination ticket was only 1.50 Euro.
The museums were surprisingly well designed, with one leading right to another without awkwardness or pause. The path through the museums wandered around the walls surrounding the courtyard, tripped through hidden courtyards and gardens, rose up to the top of a turret and then back down to the cellar for the Egyptian collection. Wonderful.
The furniture and interior museum was especially fine-- again, Italian design is just... fabulous.
The vaulted ceilings were brightly coloured, often the only spots of colour in the dark rooms.
Some of the collections reminded me of the Green Vault in Dresden. This ship was similar to one we saw there. It was carved out of a shell, so delicately cut and shaped.
One of the museums contained musical instruments-- many of them odd and intricate, many of which I had never seen before..jpg)
We left the castle and I headed to the design museum that was nearby in the park, La Triennale di Milano. The permanent exhibition was fantastic-- it showcased almost all of the iconic designs that have come out of Italy in the past eighty years or so. Even the building itself (as well as the design of the exhibition) was seamless-- which I really enjoyed, after enduring a few German museums with poor layout and flow. I really enjoyed seeing the chairs, the tables, the cars, the lamps and centerpieces in person, to see the sleek designs with my own eyes rather than merely in magazine photos. One of the exciting aspects of the exhibit was the very recent, sustainable and ecological design, concepts that many Italian designers have recently been playing with, to great effect and success (so far).
The special exhibit, however, was truly special. As it was in Italian, I'm not sure that I entirely understood it, but it was spectacular. It was titled, ,,Il Fiore di Novembre". The exhibition has the layout of a flower, appearing from the front as a rose.
I thought it was a 2D representation of a flower, until I saw a person walk through one of the layers. It was created out of thousands and thousands of tiny tiles, that were red, maroon, and black.
The viewer, after observing the red-tiled rose from the front, can walk along a darkened corridor (which is interspersed with video installations) and enter each of the ,,slices" of the flower. Each slice has a different theme: City, Gravity, Venus, and finally, Love. Each slice had black and white graphics on the walls, all in accordance to the theme, and white installations. Some were furniture, some were sculptures, and more. The lights are red, and slowly dim and then glow more strongly, set to a soundtrack of (somewhat) new-age music. Sounds rather kooky, but it was mesmerizing.
I then went back to the city center, to the Duomo. This time, I managed to gain entry (after switching from my open-toed sandals to heels) and enjoyed a few minutes in the cool darkness of the cathedral. I saw this staircase outside a building nearby.
I then headed to over to more museums, but was thwarted by a bike race that ran through the middle of Milan. The path was blocked off from both sides, so it took me awhile to figure out how to get to the other side of the race without being run down by a crowd of intense bikers. I finally went underneath, through a metro station and came up, all the while being harassed by various street vendors (I figured out that the best way to avoid them was to merely speak German, which left them supremely confused).
I went to the Palazzo Reale, a castle that hosts mutiple museusms. I had read about an Italian furniture and interiors exhibition in the NYTimes article, so I was really looking forward to walkign through the exhibit. It was great-- old, ancient, beautiful pieces of design and furniture arranged around modern pieces, covered with gauze. Strange, wierd, but fabulous.
I noticed this right before I left the city to head to the airport, but the little drink/gelatto stands also sold fresh coconut! All of the stands had these little platforms with slices of fresh coconut, dripping with water. They were like little coconut fountains.
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