Double Everything

Now for the long-awaited second half of my Rotterdam adventure...

Saturday morning I was awake by 7:30, which is actually on the late side for me, but on this day I was especially glad to be such an early riser, as I had far too much to see and not enough time to do it all.  I got as ready as I could without accessing the majority of my luggage, which was safely locked in a crate beneath our bed and guarded by a slumbering Nick who had the combination.  Finally I shook him awake impatiently (in my defense, his alarm had already gone off once) and obtained access to my stuff, and by 8:10 we were tripping downstairs to partake in the (complimentary) breakfast.  There was no sign of Shiloh, so I presume she had already headed off to Brussels for the day.  Breakfast was mostly cold, and consisted of bread with various fixings, and several options for hot and cold drinks.  There was one particular topping, however, which I was particularly looking forward to.  

My mother's college roommate's husband (how's that for complicated) is Dutch and as our families are still quite close, we go down to a camp in Sweden (, Maine) for a weekend every summer to hang out with them when they come up from Pennsylvania for vacation.  The two foods that we ALWAYS have at camp with them, which therefore I strongly associate with the Netherlands, is this particular kind of cheese which comes in great big rolls and we shave ourselves (which I always thought was super-fun as a kid; gimme a break, I'm an engineer), and sprinkles.  Not just normal sprinkles like what you get at an ice-cream store (which, as everyone knows, are also called Jimmies), but super-flavored sprinkles.  There are chocolate (dark and milk), chocolate-vanilla, and various combinations of fruit flavors.  And they go on bread.  One of our favorite lunches when we go visit this family is whole-wheat bread with (peanut) butter and sprinkles, or cheese.  

So when I opened the unmarked metal canister sitting amongst the spreads and saw the black and white sprinkles it contained, I felt like I was really in the Netherlands.  Nostalgically (as I will still be in Germany when my parents make our traditional vacation this summer) I munched on toast with peanut butter and sprinkles, and even added a German flair by trying a slice with Nutella instead of peanut butter.  Satiated at last (I think it took longer to tell about this breakfast than to eat it), Nick and I set off for our first destination of the day: the Rotterdam Market.  In all of my travels I have only touched upon this delightful aspect of Europe, once in Berlin, and once in Hamburg (the one in Clausthal wasn't big enough to count for anything, and it was all old people selling their junk). I wish we had more flea markets in the States, because it's like a whole CITY of yard sales crammed into one big open square.  Everything you ever could have wanted was at the market: cell phone cases, purses, clothes, lingerie, fabric, watches, books, music, furniture, antiques, tools, extension cords, bicycle repair supplies, carpet, flowers, produce, sweets, fast food, and probably most impressively, fresh fish.  I mean, some of these fish were so fresh they weren't even DEAD yet.  That made me jump a bit, when the crabs I was so curiously inspecting began waving their sluggish claws at my nose.  Since Rotterdam is right on the coast, these fish must have been the night's or morning's catch, or at the most Friday's.  It was amazing.  It took Nick and I a solid hour just to walk through all of the stalls, but that was okay because our next destination didn't open until 10am anyway :)

After perusing everything, it occurred to me that anything I bought at the flea market was likely to be a better deal than in a store.  I thus frantically began looking around for souvenirs, but didn't have much luck, especially since nothing had caught my eye on our first time around and I had little desire to shove my way through the ever-thickening throngs of shoppers a second time.  I managed to find a trinket for Emily and a Tupperware container (yay I can make leftovers again!), and Nick bought an extension cord for his room back in Dortmund.  Then we treated ourselves to a Stroopwaffel (for which we had free coupons, courtesy of the tourist office - it's like a thin cookie sandwich with caramel in the middle, really yummy and sweet) and a small container of raspberries (many of which turned out to be rotten - ew) and walked out of the market up to our next stop.

People actually LIVE in these crazy apartments!

The Overblaak development, better known as the Cube Houses, is a series of apartments designed in the late seventies by a man named Piet Blom.  What makes these apartments quite remarkable is that they literally look like yellow cubes turned up on one corner and balanced on a pole.  One of these houses has been opened up as a museum, and it was here that Nick and I turned our steps.  After climbing two flights of incredibly steep stairs to get up into the actual "cube" we were surprised by how normal everything seemed.  Everything was close-set, but it didn't feel terribly cramped, and the only way you would have known that you were inside an upturned cube was that the windows were at funny angles.  The first floor was the "lobby" and a kitchen, where the dirty dishes in the sink made me suspect that the man behind the desk might just be the occupant of the apartment after-hours.  Then, up another set of narrow stairs came the main floor (at the widest part of the cube), which included a bedroom, bathroom, study, and another staircase, each in a different corner with no doorways in between (with the exception of the bathroom).  The second staircase led up to a third floor in the top of the cube, which was one room with large windows in the top and on three sides.  It was a very open and bright space because of all the windows, and looked like an enjoyable place to hang out.  I don't think more than three people would be able to fit comfortably in the apartment (and that's only if it's a married couple with a small child or the kid doesn't mind having the upstairs as his bedroom, as that was really the only other place for a bed) but overall I was pleasantly surprised by the design.  It would certainly be a unique living situation!!

Beautiful on the outside, I'm sure the museum would
have been just as interesting!

After the cube houses Nick and I headed back across the market to a giant medieval church we had spotted earlier which contained an early-history museum that looked quite promising.  Unfortunately when we got to the front door it was still closed, although the museum was supposed to open at 11 and it was well past that by this point.  Disappointed, we decided it wasn't worth trying to come back later to see if it was just opening late for some reason, and moved on to the next item on our list - lunch.  At this point I was starting to get a bit worried about the dwindling supply of Euros in my wallet, so instead of an expensive cafe we rode back to the central train station and nabbed hamburgers, fries, and shakes from a fast food restaurant (Smullers, one I've never heard of or seen before, so I can still pretend it was Dutch food ;]).  Conveniently enough, our next destination was only a couple of blocks from the train station.

"Night" falls in Miniworld. Every 24 minutes a new day dawns

I wasn't into trains much as a child (after all, I'm a girl) but after seeing how awesomely intricate and entertaining grown-up model train sets can be when I visited Hamburg last year (this is the part where I would reference you to that blog post... except I never wrote it... oops) they made it back on my list of "things probably worth checking out in any given city" (along with Natural History museums, City History museums, and Zoos).  There's a really famous model train set in Den Haag, which boasts a miniature version of all the important places in the Netherlands, but while I was wandering around Rotterdam Central station one of the buildings I repeatedly passed advertised "Miniworld... an entire world awaits you!"  Yay another model train set!  Since a discount was also conveniently included in our Rotterdam Welcome Card, we decided to give it a look.  It didn't disappoint, although it wasn't quite as expansive or impressive as the one in Hamburg (for example, while I took 210 pictures of the one in Hamburg, I only took 84 pictures here...).  There were made-up towns based on real-life places as well as replicas of actual attractions in the Netherlands (for instance, the Euromast we climbed the day before and the beautiful white bridge that was just a block from our hostel).

A transformer terrorizing Rotterdam?  Oh no!

But the really exciting part about model train sets isn't the amazingly intricate detail that is put into the replicas of real places, though that certainly is marvelous.  What I like about them so much is examining all of the tiny people in the tiny situations that the curators think up.  If you're going to make thousands or tens of thousands of tiny people to inhabit your miniature world, you have to have some fun with it and put in some jokes or you'll go crazy.  Apparently, the creators of this particular world are quite sadistic, though there were also some tamer and more ridiculous scenes.  I saw a bloody car accident where the front windshield of the matchbox car was smashed in and a woman figure lay on the ground in a pool of red and glass, a nude beach where a young couple was playing with their small child, all happily exposed, an archaeological dig site where they were just finishing uncovering a dinosaur skeleton, a gynecologist's office through the windows of a skyscraper (as well as offices containing nuns, a wedding party, horses, and sheep in the same building), another accident involving several vehicles which had stopped traffic on a bridge, a rock concert which contained a fair number of nuns in the audience as well as at least one cow, a building on fire, a woman lifting a horse above her head, Thomas the tank engine (in several locations) and multiple "Occupy"-esque scenes where a cow was either the reason or mascot of their protest - it was difficult to tell.

The Euromast!  Or, a mini version of it. In the background,
the cube houses and the medieval church we also visited!

Of course, the most remarkable thing about a model train set is, indeed, the trains, and especially how they are all so well-timed and coordinated that none of them run into each other.  It is truly a feat of mechanical and electrical engineering (YAY engineers!).  This model train set also didn't just include trains - trucks and vans also rolled along the (presumably magnetized) streets, transporting tiny goods from town to town inside MiniWorld.  All in all it took us a good two hours to go around and see every part of the exhibit, which was slightly more exciting to me than to Nick, by far not as big a museum-goer as myself.  However, he patiently waited for me to get my fill of the tiny scenes and even helped me find some of the "easter eggs" (like the penguins floating on an iceburg in the middle of Rotterdam harbor, a unicorn, or a smurf flagging down a train).  Finally I had seen everything there was to see, so we headed back towards our hostel into the museum district for some more traditional exhibits.

The rhino's about 6" tall, for scale...

Of course, I headed straight to the Museum of Natural History (mostly because I didn't know the address of any of the other interesting-sounding museums).  While Nick was originally going to wait outside for me, when the entrance fee turned out to be a mere 3 Euros and the museum little more than a dozen rooms in total, he followed me inside instead.  While the collection might not have been impressive in size, it was very well-done, and Nick and I enjoyed trying to identify the rows of stuffed birds and mammals, tentacly things floating in jars of ether, or various skeletons and skins that glared down at us from shelves and walls.  The museum also gets credit for quality over quantity - it had impressive specimens of tiger, orangutan, polar bear, giraffe, and Nile crocodile, and that was only in the front lobby!  The mutated creatures were particularly fascinating, especially the two-headed calves.  The skeleton of an Asian elephant from the Rotterdam zoo was there, although the room he stood in had a curious and not altogether pleasant smell.  The pride and joy of the museum was a replica of the skull of the largest fossil predatory whale ever discovered, appropriately named Leviathan.  It is supposed to be a huge creature closely related to today's sperm whale, and it could easily have fit a SmartCar in its huge maw.  I'm glad nothing in the ocean grows that big anymore! (that we know of...)

After the Natural History museum I still had high hopes to visit another museum, although at this point I was left with fewer than 20 Euros and was seriously doubting my ability to pay for food for the rest of my trip... However, when I entered the smuggling museum, which according to my online information had free entry, I was dismayed to learn that whatever I had seen was out of date and the entry for students cost a whole 4 Euros.  I wasn't THAT interested in smuggling, so I decided to call it a day.  Now, however, Nick and I faced the problem of where to find food, as he wasn't exactly rolling in cash either.  He had brought his ATM card with him, at least, but was reluctant to face the fees of withdrawing money at a foreign bank.  I had seen a DeutscheBank earlier in the day (which has a special partnership with Bank of America to only charge the exchange rate when you use their ATMs) so I told him where I had seen it and laid down to rest my weary legs.  Unfortunately Nick returned within the hour empty-handed -- apparently it was only a Financial Center and not an actual bank.  Taking advantage of our unlimited public transport tickets, we decided to tour a bit of the city via tram and try, on the way, to find a restaurant which would take a Visa card so that we wouldn't have to pay cash for food.

It wouldn't be a trip to Holland without
seeing at least one windmill...

This turned out to be shockingly difficult.  Cash is still the currency form of choice in most countries outside the US and Canada, and Visa isn't nearly as well-known in the EU as Mastercard, so time and time again we met with shaking heads and apologetic "no"s from restaurant and cafe owners.  We finally gave up and trekked to a McDonalds in the center of the city (leave it to the Golden Arches to be a haven for Americans!) where at least the food was cheap, if not national.  While we were eating our rather pathetic dinner, we witnessed a rather singular event. A boy and his father had just gotten their food and the boy was carrying the tray to the table.  Suddenly a pigeon swooped into the restaurant, flying right over the head of the boy and causing him to duck and drop his soda.  The boy's father sent him on to a table while he went back to the counter to ask for another drink.  The pigeon, meanwhile, had landed on a table, from which he watched the boy choose a seat, strutted back and forth a couple of times rather proudly, and flew back out the door.  I don't want to know what that boy did to that pigeon or his friends, but I'm pretty sure he just got paid back for it.

Is it a statue or is it a person...?

One more amusing story from the evening: as we were searching for an adequately cheap and international place to eat, we passed a silver statue of a man on the sidewalk holding out his hands as if to ask for money.  The shocking realism of the statue caused me to pause and take a closer look.  In Munich last year I had encountered people who painted themselves silver or green and stood on a box in the city square all day, with a small container for money set out in front of them.  I couldn't decide if this masterful sculpture was an impressive work of art or such a street performer... If it was a person and I showed too much interest, I knew that he would probably move suddenly to try and jump me, and I also knew that it would probably work.  But my curiosity got the best of me and I couldn't resist reaching out to his outstretched hands.  They were warm to my touch... but hard like metal.  Still, I had to touch him a couple more times to make sure that I wasn't being fooled.  Nick, meanwhile, had stepped back, convinced that the man would jerk to life any moment and waiting to laugh at my inevitable shriek.  Nick had noticed that on one side of the man's chin the metal was slightly flesh-colored and concluded that his makeup had at that spot begun to wear off.  Fortunately for my pride, I was right and it was only a masterfully-done statue, but it definitely made my heart race for a minute...

At this point it was past 9:00 and both Nick and I were worn-out from our adventure-filled day.  Feeling a little lame, we headed back to the hostel and turned in for the night, even though it was a Saturday.  When I mentioned this to Nick, he pointed out that there wasn't much "going out" one could do without money, which neither of us had, and it's not really my thing anyway.  So we settled in to rest up for the morrow, because neither of our adventures were quite over yet...

Tulips, Trains and Towers

Sorry, guys, I swear I wrote this one almost completely and then it failed to save and I didn't get around to retyping it for a few days... that'll teach me to rely on the auto-save feature :P

I lost no time on Friday getting up and finishing my preparations for the weekend; I got up at 5:45 and by 7:00 I was out the door.  This left me barely enough time to buy my ticket for the return journey to Germany before hopping on my train.  All was going well until we unexpectedly slowed down and stopped on the tracks with no station in sight.  We must have been waiting for a train to pull out of the next station, because we stayed that way for about 10 minutes and when we finally started moving again, we soon reached the next stop.  However, this unforeseen delay meant that I missed my connection in Viersen, though by only a minute or two, and had to wait a whole hour for the next train.  Fortunately I had an iPod to amuse myself, which is basically a small computer (Bible, music, games, and books all in one).  I was traveling alone, as my travel companion wanted to take advantage of his Eurail pass and use a faster, more direct train to Rotterdam, but this is not something new for me, and soon I was safely aboard the next train.  Luckily, most local trains in my corner of Europe run every hour, if not more often, so this wasn't an enormous disruption to my travel plans.  By my next transfer, I was already across the border into the Netherlands, though since the farmlands rolling by outside my window were virtually indistinguishable from the countryside of Northern Germany from whence I'd come, the only way I knew this was because the signs at the station looked a little funny - because they were in Dutch.

Now, apparently Dutch people will get mad if you say this to them, but their language sounds like an illiterate Englishman and a drunk German tried to have a conversation and ended up turning it into an entire language.  For example, fifteen in Dutch is pronounced "five-tsehn" (ten in German is zehn, pronounced "tsen").  However, it doesn't really matter, because everyone's so educated that they ALL know English at least, if not a couple of other languages besides, and I never had a problem with communication during the weekend.  But it was still helpful that, when I could stop laughing long enough, I could make out enough on signs and over loudspeaker announcements to get by, because that turned out to be very important early on...

My third train was supposed to take me all the way to Rotterdam, but at one station along the way it paused for an unusually long time and there were several announcements made over the loudspeaker.  I understood enough to learn that there was some sort of obstruction on the tracks ahead and the train would have to stop short of Rotterdam, and they were telling the passengers to find an alternate route.  Disgruntled and a little concerned about being able to find my way, I wandered around the train station until I found someone who looked official.  I was just debating whether I should ask directions in German or English when I realized that the person already speaking to the official was asking for directions to Rotterdam in German, so I left my question of the languages unanswered and instead followed my just-informed fellow traveler to another express inter-city train.  I was slightly worried about the fact that my ticket was good for a route which I was no longer adhering to, but from my experience the railroad conductors are about as prevalent on Dutch trains as they are in Germany (i.e. I saw hardly any of them) so it didn't end up being a problem.  However, it did mean that my four-hour journey to Rotterdam turned into a six-hour plus ordeal which left me hungry and grumpy.  I satiated a bit of my hunger at the intervening train station in Uthrecht with a cheese-covered roll (always your best bet in Europe for quick, cheap energy), which is worth mentioning for my interaction with the cashier, or lack thereof.  The rolls were sitting in bags on a warmer, so I grabbed one and silently handed it to the cashier.  He hesitated for a moment, and I realized he was trying to guess which language he should speak to me.  I think I answered in German just because I was used to it at that point, but he may or may not have tried Dutch, French or English first and I don't think he was ever quite sure where I came from.  It was quite interesting, coming from such a monolingual culture, to think about a country where you don't automatically greet a new person in your native tongue...

Things didn't get much better upon my arrival at the Rotterdam Central Station, which is basically a giant construction site.  In fact, my impression was that most of the country was under construction, from what I saw... at least that means their economy can't be doing too poorly!  I had been recommended an independent tourist office by my recently-acquired guidebook, Europe on a Shoestring (which Joe happened to find in one of the discard bins during move-out at Princeton and, though it must weigh a good six pounds by itself, I thought a useful enough resource to bring along), but though it was supposed to be right in the area of the train station, I couldn't find it for the life of me and instead spent 30 minutes wandering around a couple of city blocks peering into the darkened windows of what seemed to be government buildings (I'm just glad I didn't get arrested).  Finally, I gave up and schlepped (fun fact: schleppen is a German verb meaning "to haul" or "to drag" - it just got Americanized!! For those of you who don't believe me because I'm from Maine and I talk funny, it is an actual English word as well: Schlep (it comes to us from the German through Yiddish).) over to the official city information office, since I had a couple of hours to kill.  Nick, my travel companion, had been held up in Germany by some "banking issues" which he didn't describe and I didn't inquire further about, and wouldn't arrive until 4pm.  I took my frustration of losing an entire day to delays out on the chaos of visiting a new city by viciously researching all of the interesting-sounding pamphlets available and planning our weekend, looking up locations, opening hours, and admission prices to avoid any other unpleasant surprises.  I also decided to go in on the Rotterdam Welcome Card, which for 13 Euros gave me two days of unlimited access to the city's public transportation network, as well as a booklet of coupons for 25-50% off local attractions.  Since I planned to do as much as possible while I was in the city, I figured the card would pay for itself.  After my research was done, I looked around the office which doubled as a souvenir shop until I found a couple of pieces of reasonably-priced, thoroughly Dutch kitsch (another Americanized German word!!) to bring home to friends and family.  Then, it finally nearing 4pm, I broke out my new card to take the tram back to the Central Station and meet Nick.

Having eventually found each other (which was no small feat in the chaos of the central station) and acquired another Welcome Card for him, we headed to our hostel to check in and regroup.  We had found accommodations at Hotel Room Rotterdam, a small hostel with good reviews on HostelBookers which had the most notable advantage of being the cheapest one in Rotterdam.  It was located in a beautiful, rough stone building only a block from the water.  As we walked inside, I can only describe the atmosphere as "chill".  The man who sauntered up to the counter to greet us had a distinctly Australian-sounding accent, though I never did figure out if he was actually from Down Under or that's how Dutch people sound when they speak English (which is at least partially true).  Though he was quite nice, he charged us 88 Euros instead of our expected 81 for the rooms (22.50 a night for each of us, and we had already made a 9-Euro down payment at time of booking) and when we walked up to the third (American fourth) floor to our room, we discovered that it contained 10 beds instead of the promised 8.  In hindsight, since I had the receipt with me, I should have said something right then, but I kept my mouth shut (I REALLY hate confrontation, even more than I hate losing money), even though the unexpected increase in expenses, combined with the general high cost of EVERYTHING in the Netherlands, led finances to be a little tight on the back end of the trip.

Shiloh and I at Hotel Bazaar, a ?Turkish? restaurant

When we opened the door to our room, the only other occupant was a petite girl on her laptop on one of the top bunks.  She gave us a shy smile and a wide-eyed "Hello," and we soon learned that Shiloh was taking the opportunity to tour Europe after finishing a dance study-abroad program in France before heading home to the States.  When we asked her about her plans, she told us she'd be making a day trip to Brussels the following day to use up the last of her Eurail pass, but that she didn't have anything special planned for the evening.  We didn't yet know what we were doing, but we invited her along regardless, and she joyfully accepted. Together we tripped down the stairs, Rotterdam map in hand, back to the front desk where the receptionist poured us each a Dutch beer (Hertog Jan, which was actually one of the best beers I've ever drunk - heck, it was almost enjoyable) and sat down to share his recommendations.  He drew various circles and marks on our map where we would encounter things worth seeing, but our primary concern was food (especially because of my mostly non-existant lunch).  He highly recommended Hotel Bazaar (a Middle Eastern restaurnt with big portions for cheap) as well as a little "Grandma's Kitchen"-type traditional Dutch restaurant.  It being already on the late side and us being very hungry, we opted for the former.

Before we packed up, the receptionist brought us each a shot of Dutch gin, on the house - as an apology for pouring himself a beer and not paying for it, he said.  This presented an entirely new dilemma as I had never taken a shot before, and am certainly not used to imbibing significant quantities of hard alcohol at a time (the only time I've drunk anything stronger than beer, it's to taste or try it, so I take tiny little sips and there's usually not much to begin with...).  I didn't even know if all of the liquid in the glass would fit comfortably in my mouth, or if I would end up sputtering and looking like a fool.  I finally ended up gingerly taking about 3/4 of it in my mouth, at which point I realized that a shot is not a very big mouthful.  Fortunately it was also a very smooth gin (or at least, that's the adjective the receptionist used, I have no idea about alcohols) so it tasted very much like a spruce tree and the alcohol wasn't as noticeable as I was expecting - to my immense relief.

Now, realizing that a glass of beer and a shot of gin was going to hit me a lot harder than normal, as empty as my stomach was, I was all for getting to the restaurant as soon as possible.  Indeed, I did feel it, and it made the walk a tad more... um, entertaining... but it wasn't significant, and nothing embarrassing happened.  We walked through Rotterdam's "Walk of Fame", which was just as cheesy as it sounds, but I did recognize a few of the names, like the one at the right.  Fortunately we were given good directions to the restaurant, and we had no trouble finding the place - it was getting in that would prove to be tricky.  Apparently it's a pretty hopping place on a Friday night, but when we asked the hostess, she told us with a sideways glance that if we could be gone by 8, she had a table for us.  It being only 6pm, we agreed, and were soon poring over our menus filled with exotic-sounding dishes in what can only be described as a colorful atmosphere.  No, it was literally colorful, as the light from the rows of votive candles in colored glass jars and the stained-glass chandeliers provided the only light in the bustling basement dining area.  Shiloh went with a simple soup, Nick ordered a kebab (I think with chicken), and I got a lamb dinner that sounded like it came with plenty of extras.  When our food came, my jaw just about dropped as I saw the enormous plates the waiter was carrying.  Shiloh's soup would easily have fed three people, my dinner included meat, salad, rice, a tomato, pepper, and yoghurt sauce, and Nick's kebabs were similarly accompanied, not to mention the complimentary breadbasket and assortment of sauces.  We fell right to eating, and I was astounded again and again as absolutely everything on my plate turned out to be delicious.  Maybe it was because I was so hungry, and maybe it was the alcohol, but I even enjoyed the tomato (and that will be particularly impressive to those of you acquainted with my food preferences).  We shared across plates, too, of course, and the fantastic food was not limited to my order.  Whatever country that food came from, I want to move there, because EVERYTHING they eat is AMAZING.

We were up there!!!

None of us had any trouble cleaning our plates and with considerably fuller bellies, we were soon ready for some real adventures.  Naturally, by this time in the evening all museums and most tourist attractions were closed, and it wasn't late enough for the bars or dance clubs to be worth visiting (purely for the cultural experience, of course ;]).  However, we soon settled on the Euromast, a 185-meter tower which boasted beautiful views of the city.  Though it was already past 8pm, we were even further north in Rotterdam than in Germany, and less than a week away from the longest day of the year for the northern hemisphere, so the skies were only rainy-day dark and had not yet been dimmed by twilight.  The way to the Euromast led through a beautiful park and an unexpected wedding party, which we carefully tiptoed around, trying not to be too conspicuous.  Safely at the base of the tower, we looked up to a row of windows high above the ground and decided that's where the observation deck must be.  Come to find out, that's actually a restaurant (talk about eating in style!) above which are two luxurious honeymoon suites (a night's stay is only 300 Euros, and includes a bottle of champagne and breakfast!  How's that for a memorable night?), which are all below the open-air observation deck.  Of course, the wind was much more noticeable 100 meters in the air than on the ground, and it drove the light rain into us in a quite unpleasant way, but nothing could spoil the majestic views.  Curious as always, I circled the observation deck and was pleased to find a stairway that led up even further.  Following it led us to an upper observation deck, at which there was an elevator that went up even more.  Wanting to get the most for our money (and the tickets weren't exactly cheap, even with 25% off from the welcome card), we continued ascending until we entered a strange little room with glass walls, but no lights.  We sat down on the benches encircling the post in the middle of the room and wondered what was going on.  In fact, Nick had just said, "Euromast, what are you doing?" when he was nearly knocked off his feet by a sudden shudder - the room began to move.  Slowly we emerged into the evening light as the entire room ascended the tower.  Shiloh and I looked at each other in excitement and glee.  Just then, the room began slowly rotating, giving us a truly panoramic view of the city.  I began laughing out of sheer enjoyment - it just kept getting better.  The platform kept ascending to a remarkable height of 185 meters, from which we could see the entire expanse of Rotterdam spread out below us.

The view from the Euromast towards our hostel

We spotted the bridge near our hostel and several other city landmarks before the room, still spinning, began a gradual descent back to where we had come.  Still grinning from the adrenaline rush that came from being so far up in the sky without much between us and the ground, we headed back down the maze of elevators and stairwells towards the boring life of the gravity-restrained.  Once we were finally on the ground again, we headed back across the park, satisfied that we had redeemed the day from its frustrating start.

The adventures weren't quite over for the day; on our way through the park a flock of small, bright green birds flew overhead.  I swore they looked like parrots; Nick said that was impossible.  (Later we learned that it is quite common in large cities with zoos to see exotic birds that have escaped from captivity and end up thriving, so I could have been right after all!)  We arrived back at our hostel in the midst of the Eurocup match between England and Sweden, so of course we each grabbed a beer from the bar and sat down to watch - it's the European thing to do.  By the time the match ended it was 10:30 and FINALLY getting dark, so we took the opportunity to walk the two blocks from the hostel to the river to see the bridges lit up, which was truly a sight to behold.  After some Parkour-style hunting for photo opportunities which involved some possibly-illegal climbing on rooftops, we returned to the hostel to rest up for a long, full day of touring.  Before I clambered into my top bunk, I slipped out on the balcony to take a picture of the still-glowing 11pm view from the hostel...

Rotterdam, the Netherlands, 11pm on June 15th, 2012

It had been a good day.  So now I will leave you to read about my good day, and I will try not to take so long in telling you about the next ones...

Coal Mine Take 2

I swear this post has been almost two weeks in the writing... I'm beginning to wonder how working people get anything done, as I feel like all I do now that my internship has started is work, sleep, and eat...  Hopefully I will settle into a routine soon and then be able to catch up a bit... or go on a blog-writing marathon some rainy Saturday and pound out the last month for you.  It (might) get done eventually, I promise!

On Wednesday morning I wasted no time getting up and getting on the internet - if I was going to make a weekend in the Netherlands happen, I needed to find a place to stay and at least three things worth doing in whichever city I chose to visit, pronto.  While I had been considering Amsterdam as the obvious choice, the 44 Euros/night for even the cheapest hostels was making me reconsider, especially since it would only run me 25 Euros each way for the train ticket.  I suspected the high prices were a result of my short notice, but even future weekends were coming up pricey, so I began to doubt the wisdom of staying in the capitol.  Fortunately, this is Europe, so public transportation is AWESOME and it would be no problem to stay in a smaller, surrounding city and day trip into Amsterdam if I wanted.  I looked around and decided that Rotterdam was both cheaper enough (with hostels starting around 20 Euros) and big enough to attract me. I had heard rumors that another member of our group was also thinking of visiting the Netherlands, and I am not particularly fond of traveling alone (what's the fun if you can't share any of your adventures?) so I asked and found out that he had independently come to the same conclusion as far as his destination.  I quickly had a hostel booked for both of us in a very convenient location and began investigating attractions and activities in the city, always wanting to be the informed traveler.  

The plan for the morning was to tour the chemical and biological engineering department, which was FAR less interesting to me than mechanical had been.  However, we had one chemical engineer and one biological engineer in our group, so I suppose they have to try and accommodate everyone (not to mention, part of the goal of this program is to convince us to come back and study in Germany at these universities).  During the lab tour I saw row after row of lab benches covered with beakers, stirrers, pipettes, chemicals, and nothing exciting that I could see.  Fascinating for some people, I suppose, but I prefer to work in macro.  The most interesting thing we saw was a model of a pipeless plant scheduling problem which was the culmination of several group projects.  Since the subject of one of my term papers for my robotics class this year was a scheduling problem, I immediately asked several questions about the methods they used to solve the various difficulties I knew were associated with these kinds of problems (without getting too technical, scheduling is part of a class of problems known in computer science as "NP", which means that as the size of the problem gets bigger, it cannot be guaranteed that the best solution can be found within a reasonable amount of time.  Therefore many "workaround" methods, called heuristics, are developed which find a "pretty good" solution quickly even if they can't promise its the best one.  Lots of research in computer science right now is concerned with whether new ways of solving these kinds of problems can be invented which are guaranteed to find the optimal solution without taking decades to do it).  But otherwise, it was a fairly mundane morning.

Our schedules for the afternoon said "Meeting of the Minds" which sounded very important and academic, like a global summit conference or a trivia competition.  What it turned out to be was getting all of the international interns from the universities at Dortmund and Bochum together and taking them to a coal mine museum.  Very anticlimactic.  We climbed on the bus at TU Dortmund and drove all the way to the end of its route, it seemed, because we were on there for quite a long time.  I was chatting with another Ruhr Fellow when I looked up and saw someone I was completely not expecting - Kat, my lab partner from the spring semester.  When I got her attention she also seemed quite surprised to see me, but the confusion was soon cleared up when she explained she was working in a lab at the university in Bochum as part of the German Summer Work program (which I had originally intended to apply to, before I realized in December that the deadline was October 31st).  Having someone there I already knew, albeit not well, made the rest of the day more enjoyable.  I'm also quite glad that the trip to the active mine was fresh in our minds, because the museum complex was not terribly riveting.  Having just seen how an active mine worked, I was in a much better position to ask intelligent questions about the miner's daily lives, which the museum (housed in the aboveground portions of an abandoned coal mine) showcased.  We saw the places where the miners clocked in, got paid, and were laid out if they were unlucky enough to get blown to bits or crushed in the mines.  The most unsettling part was the miners' clothing, each set of which was attached to a metal cage which the miners hoisted high up near the ceiling overnight to help it dry and keep it from wandering off.  As the tour guide held up each article of clothing, I recognized it from what I had been wearing only the day before - including the underwear.  I don't think I've ever had the honor of wearing a museum exhibit before...

The view from the top of the tower.

We also saw the various lights which were invented to help the miners see their work, from the original oil "protected flame" lamps to the modern headlamps.  We learned a bit more about what causes the explosions in the mines (excess methane gas which builds up in pockets underground and can be released without warning by mining activities) which rarely happen nowadays, and about the miners' hard lives.  The coolest part by far was when we got to climb the tower which provided the support structure for the lifts that brought men and materials down into the mines.  (Our guide called them "headgear" but I'm pretty sure that's not what they're called in English.)  You do see them all over the region, most marking sites of former coal mines which have been shut down as the coal runs out at the layers we are able to mine with our current technology.  As a matter of fact, coal in Germany is beginning to run out altogether and the remaining six coal mines are operating at a deficit, heavily supported by the government.  They are all scheduled to close by 2018.  In any case, we could climb right to the top of this one and see for miles around.  I've had the opportunity to do this several times now in the area, climb to a high spot and look around, and I can tell you that the whole region pretty much looks the same; lots of rolling green hills and fields with little red-roofed towns clustered at their bases, and here and there a metropolitan center.  The Ruhr area is actually one of the most densely populated areas in all of Europe, if not the world, so I have heard say.  Certainly there are a lot of tiny little towns everwhere and not many stretches of unbroken wildland!

After our tour we were treated to a supper of currywurst at the restaurant and I nabbed a children's book, Max der Grubenpferd (Max the Mining Horse) and a few postcards to send home from the gift shop.  One of Kat's friends insisted on buying everyone a round of beer and I reluctantly acquiesced (when in Rome...).  It wasn't anything spectacular.  When we finished supper we walked to a seemingly abandoned train station which was little more than a raised slab of concrete along a set of dilapidated tracks, but sure enough a little regional train came puffing along after a few minutes and we all traveled back to Dortmund for the other part of the Meeting of the Minds.  The program had bought us tickets to the final concert of the Piano Festival held at the concert hall, which was nice, but there was something else competing for our attention.  The Eurocup is going on this month, as I've mentioned, and that night Germany was playing the Netherlands and the game was supposed to be a good one.  Therefore on the pretense of wanting to catch the second half of the game, I snuck out of the concert at intermission (I like classical music well enough, and the pianist and string quartet were good, but I had already listened for an hour by this point and my tolerance was just about up) with Kat and our new friend.  After trying for a while and failing to find a public viewing nearby, we parted ways, since they wanted to go into a bar to watch and I was content stopping by the Stadthaus viewing on my way back to the CDC.  I got there almost at halftime, watched a moment or two of the game, and noted that the score was Germany 2, Netherlands 0.  Then I went to bed.  I know, I'm a super-lame soccer fan, but I had gotten up early, okay?

Thursday we also did not have German class, as we were to visit one of the other partner universities of the program, Bochum, for the day.  I got up a bit early to buy my ticket to Rotterdam (which I was cleverly arranging with a border town as my place of departure in order to take full advantage of the SemesterTicket we had been issued for the program, good for the entire summer on all buses, subways, and regional trains in North-Rhein Westphalia, therefore saving myself a whopping 15 Euros each way) at the Hauptbahnhof before leaving and nearly missed the group's train when it took longer than I thought, but soon we were following the tide of students headed towards the row of concrete buildings which are typical of the universities of this region, founded in the fifties and sixties along with a post-war reversal of the philosophy that people in an overwhelmingly industrial region have no use for higher education.  Even though neither we nor the people meeting us had any signs or knew anyone in the other group, it didn't take them long to figure out who the Americans were, to my chagrin.  The nice lady from the international center and her timid assistant swept us along across the campus, past the library where the word "Universitätszentralbibliothek" (University Main Library) were spelled out backwards in neon lights (when we asked why, she just rolled her eyes and said "art") to a small meeting room in a peculiarly vertical building which we entered from the roof.  Of course, drinks and cookies awaited us, as well as tote bags filled with brightly-colored pamphlets and booklets full of smiling people telling us why we should come study in Germany.  We sat around the table, munched cookies, and patiently sat through yet another presentation on the statistics of the university, with special attention paid to how many girls study in each department (it's beginning to make me wonder what they think American students care about...).  We were also informed that the peculiar design of the campus was meant to look like "ships of learning in the harbor of knowledge"... definitely sixties.  After the presentation we were whisked back out into the "harbor" for a decidedly peculiar tour which consisted of us wandering from place to place seemingly randomly while our "guide" chatted with one or another of the group members, mostly Tim since he spoke the most fluent German.  At one point we climbed to the top of one of the "ship" buildings which hold most of the labs, classrooms, and offices, and suddenly found ourselves out on the rooftop.  I'm not complaining, the view was nice and I suppose it saved time rather than walking around the entire campus to see everything, but having a campus tour that involved a rooftop seemed a bit... unusual to me.

Our tour worked up quite an appetite, so we were very happy to learn that lunch was next on the schedule, and that it was paid for by the University.  Not being given any specific directions about my meal card, and being unable to find a list of restrictions on it, (and wanting to take full advantage of free food anytime I could get it,) I loaded my tray with tortellini, döner, salad, mousse, and a drink.  The lady at the cash register scowled at me and complained that the ticket was supposed to be good for ONE meal and I had two, however, when she found out I wasn't a student she grumpily let it go, even though I tried to offer to pay the difference.  I was happy and managed to enjoy most of my ample meal (which ended up being my lunch AND supper, so things evened out).  At the Mensa, and again later in the afternoon, I ran into Kat again and learned a little bit more about her daily routine as a lab assistant.  Her experience sounded quite similar to mine last year at TU Clausthal, minus the knowing German part.  I promised to let her know if I was traveling anywhere exciting, as it was unfortunately too late notice for her to join me on my planned Dutch excursion.  

Following lunch, we toured the engineering facilities of RU Bochum, which fortunately involved a lot of walking and very little sitting to listen to presentations, or I know I wouldn't have been able to stay awake.  While the labs were a mix of impressive and... less so, a couple of things stood out.  In one lab, which field of research was not made clear, an apparatus had been constructed which could trap a single drop of water in an ultraviolet standing wave and make it levitate.  We all got a chance to try our hand at water levitation, and it gave me a profound sense of satisfaction to be able to so defy gravity.  We were sure that would be the highlight of the day, until we were led into a large open space in the last lab, which had a table at one end.  On this table were laid ten lab coats and an apparatus which looked a little like a food processor from outer space.  We all became more attentive as we realized that we were about to participate in science!

The Science Machine!

Actually, the device was the result of an Engineering and Entrepreneurship course final project, where teams of students were tasked with coming up with a new product for the German market and then actually producing samples.  This particular project was basically a fruity version of Dippin' Dots, where instead of ice cream, fruit smoothie mix was dripped into a vat of liquid nitrogen and immediately frozen into delicious little spheres.  Of course, everything tastes better with ice cream, and we had it on the brain anyway, so we also used two methods - liquid nitrogen and a commercial ice cream maker - to prepare the stuff, with the supposed goal of comparing the textures.  We got to make and eat ice cream, that's all I cared about :)  The lady leading this particular demonstration was originally from Peru and English was her third language, so her explanations were halting at times and she was convinced that the little fruit balls were called "shoopies" in our language.  No one had the heart to tell her that that word doesn't mean anything in English.  It was the most amusing hour of the day, as the liquid nitrogen would create clouds of vapor as it was poured and evaporated upon contact with the air in the room and other warm surfaces, and this vapor could then be conjured into all sorts of shapes by blowing on it or stirring with a finger.  We started calling the ice cream "science", to the endless distress of our leader, who was afraid we were misunderstanding.  We would say, "This science is delicious!" or "Wow, this is the best science I've ever made!" and she would begin to explain something about the process or how engineering was much more specific than science, to which we paid absolutely no attention.  (You can't blame us, really; it was 3pm and we had been listening to an endless stream of the university's self-promotion since 10am - we were ready to have some fun.)

When we had polished off the rest of the ice cream and "shoopies", we headed back to the strange vertical building which housed the international center, to wait for a reception we were invited to at 5.  However, the list of things I needed to do to prepare for the weekend's travel loomed large over me, and I fidgeted for a few minutes before telling another member of the group not to let them wait for me and sneaking back to the train station.  The evening was spent doing much-needed prep work both on- and off-line, including my laundry for the first time since arriving in Germany (as promised, the convenience of a dryer wasn't worth my precious 2 Euros and I hung my clothes to dry in the boiler room for the night).  Armed with a fresh supply of money and a full backpack of provisions for the journey, I climbed into bed around 9:30, promising to get an early start on the weekend's adventures... which hopefully you won't have to wait two more weeks to read about!!

Getting Down... Down... Down to Business

If I were to be completely honest, I would have to say that the biggest reason I applied for this program was that it was the only chance I had to come back to Germany this summer.  It was also an industry internship, in contrast to the academic/research internship I did last summer and didn't really like.  Other than that I didn't really care; my goal was to come back to Germany and intern in a German company.  The fact that the first month of the program boasted a language course, various company visits, and "opportunities for discussion with top professionals" really didn't impress me as they probably intended.  If it had been only an internship with no "cultural exposure" I would have still jumped at the opportunity; had the program contained everything but the internship, I would not have thought it worth my while.  That also explains why I was so much less concerned about not flying in until the fifth day of the program, and so eager to extend my internship when given the opportunity.  Not that the things we've gotten to do haven't been fun, at least at times, but it's not really what I'm here for.  Everything is in English because more than half of the participants have zero previous German experience and sometimes I feel like I'm in an American bubble, which is the last thing I want while I'm over here.  I feel a little bit bad about being so antisocial and splitting off from the group every chance I get, in order to hang out with more Germans or just be on my own, but if I wanted to be American in another culture I would have picked a new place to go instead of returning to the place where I feel so inexplicably at home, even though my ties to this country are tenuous at best.

I don't know what I was expecting from the German class, perhaps something like last year in Munich (and I was not particularly looking forward to having a workload like that again), but it wasn't like that at all.  I have to give credit to my teacher, one of the administrators in the International Center.  The four of us in the "intermediate" class are on vastly different levels with our German (I was just happy to find that I wasn't the ONLY one with prior German experience, as I feared).  One of the guys is practically fluent, having been a foreign exchange student in another town in North Germany during high school (he claims he didn't know ANY German before he went, and I'm still trying to figure out how he did that, but no matter).  His grammar leaves a bit to be desired, having never been formally instructed, but he can get around in German better than any of us (his vocabulary must be at least twice mine).  I'm a distinct second, able to carry on easy conversations on a moderate range of topics and rather academic in my grammar and pronunciation (when I think about it).  At least, I definitely don't have an American accent - people always seem surprised to hear that I am American and quite a few have remarked, "Oh, I would have thought you were from the Netherlands by your accent!"  Having heard Dutch now after visiting the Netherlands for a weekend (more about that to come), which sounds like some crazy mix of drunk German and English, I presume that means I speak better than most Americans but still have a distinctly English background to my pronunciation.  I chalk this up to the several weeks during my semester of German 101 when I would go to the professor's office hours just to practice the more difficult vowels (umlauts - ä,ö, and ü - are particularly challenging).  The other two sound like they've had between 1 and 2 semesters of German, although the boy took summer classes (in English) at TU Dortmund last year, so I'm surprised he's not better at German.  They both have reasonable listening comprehension and will understand as long as the person speaks slowly and uses words they know, but when they speak it still sounds clunky and awkward.  This makes it very difficult for our teacher to do something that will be both helpful and engaging for all of us, but she tries hard.  However, without a grade for the class hanging over our heads, the amount by which we stretch ourselves is largely up to us.  I've chosen to try improving by concentrating on my grammar and conversational fluidity, as well as expanding my vocabulary.  Whenever I'm speaking in class and unsure about a construction or grammatical feature, I ask so that in real conversations I can use it correctly.

After class I took advantage of the fast internet to start cleaning up my cluttered and overstuffed inbox, as I do about every 6 months.  This absorbed me so completely that it was the only thing I accomplished with my free time that day, but I didn't mind terribly.  I've managed to keep my inbox to 15 emails or less since then, which really helps avoid forgetting about important emails I should reply to, which happened all too often during the school year.  In the afternoon we had a lecture on "Germany's position within the European Union" which was fairly interesting, as I am remarkably ignorant when it comes to domestic political matters, forget international!  The presenter's heavy accent made her difficult to understand at times, but the way she contrasted how Germany sees itself and the rest of the EU vs. the various ways the rest of the EU sees Germany was enlightening.  Basically, when the EU started Germany was eager to get back in everybody's good graces (for obvious reasons) and so was quite willing to pay for everything.  That isn't the case anymore, which has led other countries which aren't such economic powerhouses (seriously, Germany went from totally destroyed to thriving with basically ALL of its massive debts paid off in only 60 years!  Can you see why I'd rather be here than America?) - i.e. Greece and Portugal - to accuse it of becoming too powerful, or being too wimpy to help out the other EU member-states.  So there's quite a bit of tension in the EU surrounding the financial woes and the future direction of the Union, as it has a serious leadership vacuum at the moment.

After that I returned to organizing my emails until the next event, called "Second Monday."  Each month a different department at the university is tasked with organizing this party which seems like it is mostly targeted towards internationals, though there were quite a few Germans there too.  I was just happy about the free food, which consisted (predictably) of Wurst and various salads (potato, cabbage, macaroni, etc.) with watermelon for dessert (after all, the theme was "Welcome in the Summer!")  After the food we played several games, including "Name that Summer-Hit" (mostly American Top 40s from the 90s - I recognized most of them but couldn't name the band or the year they were released), "Mystery Fruit" (I got to do this one, where one person from each group was blindfolded and fed several fruits, then had to guess what they were), "Coconut Race" (first to open a coconut with a chosen weapon wins - we had a hammer and someone in our group knew exactly how to open them, so we won easily), and a "Bucket Brigade Race" where we had three minutes to fill a bucket as quickly as possible by making a line across the pavement between the full bucket and empty one and passing the water along the line from paper cup to paper cup.  Somehow, despite doing quite well in each of the individual competitions (as far as we could tell), we ended up in last place, but I got free food and some free beer (the local Krombacher was too strong and bitter for me, but then I swapped it out for a Schöfferhoffer cactus-flavored one which was much more delicious) so I didn't really mind.  It was pretty late by the time we cleared out of the party, but the rest of the group wanted to go to a jazz club and I like jazz, so I tagged along.  The club had free entry, at least, but the performers turned out to be three old guys on electric guitars and some bongo drums playing what sounded like very loud elevator music, not the swing-jazz I was expecting, so I only stayed about 45 minutes before heading back.  By the time I finished by German homework assignment for the next day's class, it was 11pm and I was more than ready for bed.

By Tuesday I was desperately in need of an actual shopping trip, so I got up a tad early (for normal people, 7am isn't anything out of the ordinary for me) and hit up Aldi before class.  Gotta love Germany - I bought eggs, yoghurt, milk, orange juice, bread, peanut butter and nutella, butter, and cheese and didn't run over 15 Euros (although, after grocery shopping for myself all year, I realize that German food isn't as much cheaper than American food as I thought).  I also checked out the other grocery store in my neighborhood, Edeka, which is reportedly slightly more expensive but has a much better selection, including an exclusive "American brands" display that was slightly embarrassing, to say the least - a giant gaudy Statue of Liberty floated above a collection of Hershey bars, peanut butter, marshmallows, "maple-flavored" (corn) syrup, and beef jerky (this is the face we show the world?).  After this I still had time to get to the university a bit early, which is why I couldn't explain why my classmates were late for the 10:15 German class (though Tim - the most fluent one - made up a very clever tale in German about how I had locked them all in the CDC and they had to call the police and the fire department to get them out so they could come to class).  In fact, Tim has quite the talent for improv - later on in the class as we were sharing the stories we had written using the verbs we were supposed to be learning, Tim shared the poem he had made up instead and managed to spin his retelling of my story to make me look like a horribly vicious person (it was about a fish in a restaurant that was still alive and bit me and he told it from the fish's point of view, as a fight for survival :P) while, when I tried to point out that another girl's story similarly ended with the consumption of an animal, he spun hers exactly the opposite way.  I was more amused and impressed at his language skills than miffed at being the butt of his jokes for the day (having learned well in the past couple of years how to laugh at myself).

Our class let out a few minutes early on this day so that we could get to our excursion, which was to the Augusta Victoria Coal mine, one of the few remaining active coal mines in the area which once depended so heavily on the "black gold."  The people we were met by ushered us into a conference room for drinks and snacks, this time artfully arranged slices of meats and cheese on bread topped with various garnishes (quite fancy, really).  Unfortunately, none of them knew enough English to make themselves understood, and it was left to our intrepid leader, Laura, to translate.  She is originally American but has lived and worked in Germany for many years and is the current director of the international center, but even though she is fluent in both languages she struggled to provide real-time translation of the various technical terms.  Tim and I jumped in to help when we could, but the presentation still took longer than any of the coal mine executives expected and by the time we were bustled down to the changing rooms (yes, we were actually going down INSIDE the mine!) we were evidently quite far behind schedule.  The mine workers were quite careful to explain to us that we couldn't leave ANY of our street clothing on because the polyester and other synthetic fabrics with which especially undergarments tend to be made could potentially collect static electricity, which in the worst case could set off an explosion if there was too much methane in the air down in the mine (of course, this was a minuscule possibility, but they had to take as many safety precautions as possible for insurance reasons).  That was... interesting, to say the least.  Let's just say that I don't think any women work underground at the mine, because though they had previously gotten our measurements to try and find clothing that would fit us, there was only one style of undergarment.  I had never worn men's underwear before, and I think I'll be okay if I never do again.  Fortunately there was enough clothing for the upper body given to disguise the fact that the undershirt wasn't exactly designed for... erm... support, shall we say.  Soon enough we were all ready with our shirts, jackets, belted pants (my belt went around almost twice, and I'm one of the larger girls in the group), socks, steel-toed boots, shin guards, scarves and helmets.  Before we went below we each received a headlamp and a CO filter in case the gas should emerge in deadly quantities (the mine executive who would lead our tour assured us that in many decades of working at the mine, he had never had to use his, it was simply another safety precaution) which altogether weighed about 5 pounds.  Finally we gathered for a quick picture aboveground before trooping off to the elevator which would take us 1,113 meters underground to the active coal seam.

The ride down took less than a minute, but we could feel our ears popping as the pressure steadily increased.  At the bottom of the shaft, we emerged into a surprisingly large tunnel which was a few degrees warmer than the air at the surface but not uncomfortable (we were told that this was only because of the air conditioning system, otherwise it would be too hot to work at this depth).  We traipsed along the tunnel for awhile, through two airlocks (which are there to keep the fresh air pumping through the mines, otherwise it stagnates and the oxygen slowly depletes until it is unbreathable) to where a small train sat waiting for us.  Each car was rated to hold 10 people, but we were tightly packed with 6, and I'm sure that 90% of the mine workers are larger than female university students.  The train rattled along for a few minutes, then came crashing to a halt with a jerk that made us all glad for our helmets.  We asked, "Is this normal?" looking at our guide and he said, with a completely undisturbed face, "No."  Before we could panic too much, the train jerked to life again and continued moving along the tunnel which was only occasionally illuminated beyond the confines of the enclosed train car. Finally, after a ride of about 8 minutes, we clambered out of the train and assembled as a group.  Though we were all given safety goggles (and those of us with contacts had special tight-fitting ones), earplugs, masks and gloves, none of the workers we saw were using any of these precautions.  Guess they're not too worried about black lung disease?

At the working seam, where we were let out, it was much noisier, warmer, and more stifling than it had been near the lift.  Our tour guides had to shout to be heard, and considering they were all still speaking German and our translators were only hearing about half of what was said, I was glad I understood both languages.  Without much introduction we headed off down a side tunnel, alongside the conveyor belt which was transporting the coal from the seam to the main tunnel where it was loaded into cars to be shuttled to the surface.  The tunnel stretched on and on and got progressively smaller and more crowded, with muddy floors and piles of rocks and coal to clamber over.  After about 30 minutes of this we made a sharp turn into the actual coal seam, an artificial tunnel created by dozens of hydraulics which literally support the thousands of tons of rock and earth above as the coal is mined out.  Fortunately for us this seam was about 2.5 meters high, which meant that we could stand up in the artificial tunnel.  Sometimes they mine from seams as small as 18", and then the workers have to crawl along their bellies to access the machinery.  As the coal is scraped and ground from the surrounding rock by the big cutting heads, water is sprayed on it to keep the dust down - even then, we were all getting covered and could barely see.  The front head shaves the top of the seam while the back head finishes off the bottom and moves the dislodged coal to the conveyor belt which shuttles it towards the mine entrance.  As the mining head moves forward, the hydraulics behind it move forward in shifts - dislodging, shifting ahead, then raising again to hold the earth in place.  As they hydraulics move forward, the tunnel behind them is simply allowed to collapse in on itself.  (I have heard that the entire expansive area on top of this particular mine has sunk an astounding 90 centimeters as a result of this settling from the seams at different levels.)  Standing on the hydraulics as they moved forward was an unsettling experience, to say the least.

While what we were seeing was extremely interesting, it was rather repetitive and so after a short while we were ready to retrace our steps.  I kept my eyes out and soon I saw a chunk of coal laying aside which I snatched and was allowed to keep as a souvenir of our trip (better than any gift shop!)  We hadn't gotten far, however, when the message was passed along the line to "hold up!" - one of the members of the group, the (somewhat frail-looking) sister of one of the students in the program who just happened to be visiting on this day and was allowed to come along, had collapsed from all the excitement.  She wasn't injured, just in a little bit of shock from dehydration combined with the heat, dust, and noise of the coal seam.  So we called back to the lift to report our situation and carefully worked our way back along the tunnel the way we had come.  About halfway out we were met by a messenger who had brought us in water and cups, and urged us all to drink for fear of one of the other girls (all seven of us are fairly petite) also collapsing.  We were all fine, however, and eventually reached the trains all in one piece.  The trip back to the surface was uneventful, but we were all quite impressed by everything we had seen.  It wasn't until we got back aboveground that we realized what we looked like. To various degrees, our faces and hair were streaked with black coal dust.  We dutifully stripped off helmets, utility belts, boots, jackets, and scarves - but not before snapping a group picture.

The little miners, after our ascent back to the surface, bearing the marks of our adventure

We all expected that our next stop would be a shower, but instead we were herded into a small room with a table set with various meat kebabs (including chicken nugget-kebabs), mini hamburger patties, and large baskets of bread.  Our guides informed us that to get the true mining experience, we would have to eat like miners - without washing up first.  A few of us complained at first, but soon our hunger displaced our squeamishness and we were all digging in with healthy appetites.  After supper we were allowed back to our changing rooms to try and rinse off the coal dust that covered all of our exposed areas.  This was all well and good except for the thought that I couldn't escape that the "guest" changing rooms were very obviously borrowed from workers who were not currently on shift, as the labeled clothing on the wall and used razor on the sink made clear.  We were not provided with our own soap or other shower supplies, so I contented myself with rinsing my hair and lathering up on my hands to scrub my face and arms.  We were also given special cream to help us get the dust from around our eyes and told that it quite conveniently made for an excellent makeup remover and we could all keep our tubes.  I can tell you, they were right about the makeup remover :)

Soon we reassembled, fresh-faced, and piled back on the bus for the return journey after duly thanking our guides and the proper executives.  All during the ride to the mine and while we were taking the tour, everyone kept emphasizing just how unusual and unique an opportunity this was.  As for myself, I was shocked that they would bring us - a group of university students completely unfamiliar with coal mining - right into the heart of the operation like this.  We literally saw coal cut from the rock right before our eyes!  Not that I didn't enjoy it.  It was the most fun and interesting thing we've done during the entire program, in my opinion.

The one other exciting thing that happened that day actually took place after I was asleep.  Keeping to my normal schedule, I tend to go to sleep between 9 and 10 when I can and wake up early to make a big breakfast and get some internet time, either at the CDC before anyone else wakes up to share the bandwidth or by coming to the university early and finding a space in the library until class starts.  Therefore I was already mostly asleep by the time my roommate came in and began moving around and talking.  She said, "Hey Erin, do you want to go to Rome this weekend?"  Thinking I had misheard her in my sleep, I answered with a very confused "What?"  She repeated the question and explained that the other members of the group had found a cheap flight, only 60 Euros round-trip, and were planning to go for the weekend, since we had Friday off.  I had actually been thinking of traveling to the Netherlands - only four hours by train to get to the big cities on the west coast - and was almost flustered enough by the last-minute planning of lodging and attractions (the train tickets were simple enough to buy through Deutsche Bahn and I didn't have to worry about the prices changing) to postpone to a later date, though we didn't have any other three-day weekends in the schedule.  I couldn't imagine trying to work out arrangements for something as far away as Rome, Italy!  I know I said I was trying to be spontaneous, but I have to draw the line somewhere.  Not to mention it didn't sound like the others had things very well worked out and the last thing I wanted to do was stay up all night while they went back and forth trying to make arrangements.  So I told her that if the others found cheap enough lodging I would consider it, and went back to sleep.  When she came in again around midnight, still almost nothing had been decided, and I didn't think the opportunity was worth the stress, all things considered.

(They did end up going, and enjoyed it, although under rather dubious circumstances that involved one of the girls' mothers using reward points to book a hotel room for two though there were four of them, the airports being amazingly hard to get to, and rather large sums of money being borrowed and lent within the group to cover various expenses... I'm glad I did what I did instead, which I will tell you about in a later post!  In fact, I'll end this one here - it's long enough already :])

The First Weekend

And so we come to the weekend.  It was actually quite boring, at least for the first half.  I took advantage of this first real breather to spend a solid chunk of time blogging and continuing the fight against jet lag by taking a 3-hour midafternoon nap.  I had bought some frozen pizza on that first day but hadn't had a chance to eat it yet, and we only have a microfridge in our room, so I crossed my fingers that the pizza hadn't gone bad from the two days in a fridge (I think Germans put far fewer preservatives in their food than we tend to) and had it for breakfast AND supper, since there were two pizzas in the box.  My first real activity of the day was meeting my double, Dani, and her boyfriend at 8pm to go to something called a "public viewing" of one of the Eurocup games.  (In case you don't know, Germans are OBSESSED about soccer.  And they're pretty good at it, so they have a reason to be.  I personally find it one of the more enjoyable spectator sports, and I definitely want to get to know my German friends better, so if bonding happens over watching soccer, so be it :])  They arrived punctually at 8pm and I met them outside.  Of the "fan gear" they had given me, I had chosen one pin and the wristband to wear, fearing that I would appear over-the-top in anything else.  Clearly I had vastly underestimated German soccer fans.  Both Dani and her boyfriend sported Germany jerseys and had German flags painted on their cheeks.  Since the flag is a simple black, red, and gold stripe, it is possible to buy a face makeup crayon which is one third black, one third red, and one third gold and paint German flags on any desired part of the body (in addition to a simple flag on each cheek, on other fans I saw many patterns - crosses, hearts, etc. - attempted with varying degrees of success).  They remarked on my lack of spiritedness and I promised to do better next time.  I could have run back up and gotten more accessories, in hindsight, as it was a full 20 minutes before my other double showed up with some of her friends.  She practically stumbled out of the car, brandishing a (rather large) empty bottle of what looked like some kind of hard liquor.  I overheard one friend ask rather apprehensively, "Wait, you drank all of that?" to which she nodded an enthusiastic yes.  Whatever it was, it couldn't have been terribly strong because she could still walk and talk just fine, she only seemed a little more enthusiastic than I thought was warranted.  We quickly made our way to the nearby square where the public viewing was held, which was already packed with spectators 15 minutes before the game.  I was introduced to all of my doubles' friends, of which there was now quite a crowd, and a couple of them tried to speak English to me although most, after hearing that I could speak German reasonably well, reverted to their native tongue.  I nodded and smiled and tried to repeat names when I heard them clearly enough, but I don't think I would remember any of them if I met the people again.

"Super Deutschland!!"

Soon the game started, and although the more serious fans in the group informed me that it wasn't a very good show, it was plenty exciting enough for me.  I declined Dani's repeated suggestions of getting myself an (overpriced) beer from the conveniently-located kiosk, but the smell of the wagon next to it selling crepes soon got to me and a group of us went over to order some.  I got one with Kinder (brand) chocolate in the middle and it was quite delicious, although I hesitate to say it was worth 3 Euros.  The game ended happily at 1=0 for Germany and Dani dragged me along to a local bar where they were going to celebrate.  Never having been in a bar before, I thought it would be an interesting experience and acquiesced, figuring that this was a very good and very safe opportunity now that I was with reasonable friends and close to home.  I wasn't particularly hungry and had absolutely no idea what to order from the menu for drinks, since this place specialized in cocktails, something I had never tried.  When I told this to Dani she couldn't believe it, but suggested we get the sampler and split it.  I agreed, not fully realizing that the "sampler" would consist of five good-sized drinks for Dani and I to split between ourselves.  Fortunately, cocktails contain relatively small amounts of alcohol and I downed a Sex on the Beach (which I liked, fortunately, as it is a relatively common cocktail), a JiJi Loco (also good, but a local specialty), and half of a Bling Bling (which was far too sour and alcoholic for my tastes) over the course of two to three hours without really feeling affected.  The night ended up costing 14 Euros, a bit expensive for my tastes but well worth the experience.  Dani and her boyfriend walked me home, which I was glad for when we encountered several fans who had celebrated considerably more than I had and I wouldn't have been entirely comfortable circumventing on my own.  It was past one in the morning when I finally returned home and my newfound German friends laughed at my insistence on attending church in the morning, but I was determined.  I made sure to drink a large glass of water before bed, to ward off any danger of dehydration (the leading cause of hangovers), and tucked myself in.

True, when my alarm went off at 8am, it was not an entirely welcome sound, but I dutifully roused myself (no noticeable headache or sour stomach, I am happy to report) and was out the door by 9am.  I wanted to be sure to leave enough time to be early to church and hadn't previously scoped out my subway route.  Fortunately it was a very straightforward and direct route with a train that came every 20 minutes to the station closest to the CDC, and after only a little bit of fumbling at the end station, I arrived at the church (which was much bigger than I had thought, easily located in its own building with a large sign out front) within 30 minutes of walking out my door.  I should tell you a little about how I decided upon this particular church, as it seemed to me to be a special Providence.  I arrived on a Wednesday but there was no question in my mind that I wanted to find someplace to worship and get connected right away, even though I was only to be in the city for a month and a maximum of four Sundays.  I began by typing "Evangelische Freikirche in Dortmund" into Google.

As I explained last year, the religious system here is divided into the Catholic and Protestant churches, which are supported by the state, and the Free Churches or 'Freikirchen' which operate similar to most American congregations, supporting themselves with the tithes of the worshippers.  The Protestant churches are mostly Lutheran (for obvious reasons) and Catholic churches are the same everywhere, so to find a fellowship similar to what I was used to I would have to scour the domain of the 'Freikirchen'.  I had already investigated Calvary Chapels, of which there are about a dozen in Germany, but none of them were within an hour's drive of Dortmund (nor Remscheid, for that matter - they seem to be concentrated in the south-east region and rather close to each other, with the exception of Berlin, so I suspect that one was started in the area of Stuttgart and the others are church plants from the original fellowship).  I'm not particularly picky, but I'm most comfortable in the young, modern churches (non-denominational in America) in which I grew up.  There don't seem to be many of these in Germany; if you remember, I ended up at a Pentecostal church last year and loved it.  And so I searched with an open mind, reasoning that if the church I found for the first week was totally whack, I didn't have to go back.  The first link I found seemed promising, so I copied the address into Google Maps to see how close it was to the CDC.  It showed that the "Christuskirche" was just on the other side of the city center, but that seemed a bit strange because the name of the church given on the website wasn't "Christuskirche."  Leaving that tab open, I repeated my search within Google maps and again, the Christuskirche was the first hit.  It was listed as a Baptist church, and the summer camp where I attended and worked for six consecutive summers was also Baptist by affiliation, so I suspected it wouldn't be too far out of the ordinary for me.  Wanting to try one more time to find other options just in case, I clicked the second link of my Google search, which led me to a traveler's site for Dortmund.  Under "Churches in Dortmund", once again, the Christuskirche topped the list.  It seemed more than chance that I had now found the same church via three different methods (and one of them evidently a mistake), so I went back to Google Maps and carefully retyped the address from the first link.  Predictably, it gave me a different place - but this one was at least twice as far from the CDC.  Well, that was an easy decision!  And so I came to the Christuskirche, and I suspect it was more than coincidence that brought me here.

When I walked into the building on that first Sunday, there was still 30 minutes until the service began.   There weren't many people there yet but I quickly found someone to introduce myself to, which wasn't difficult as many people were in the habit of greeting everyone around as they walked through the door, and there weren't many people around which ensured that they also got to me.  When they came to me I would give them a cheery, "Guten Morgen!" and they would perhaps look puzzled for a moment before saying something to the effect of, "I haven't seen you around here before.  Are you a visitor?" which was my cue to launch into my spiel about who I was and what I was doing in Dortmund (which is probably the subject I can most easily talk about in German :])  I met a few very nice people before the service started, including some student-age women who invited me up to sit with them.  The sanctuary is very pretty, modern-looking with a balcony in addition to the seating on the main floor.  I would estimate that it can hold about 150-200 people comfortably, and it seemed to be about 2/3 full on this particular Sunday morning.  I couldn't help but smile as the opening song turned out to be "Shine, Jesus, Shine" (one of my most favorite praise songs from the 90s) translated into German - I can often tell by the worship style what kind of church I have found, and I seemed to be quite at home here.  My suspicions were confirmed as the service continued with announcements, a baby dedication, and a pleasantly appropriate sermon titled "God is Love."  I know enough German to understand about 80% of the sermon, even though I was struggling to stay awake at times due to my rather short night.  The pastor emphasized that since God is love, we should also take special care to love those around us to demonstrate that we believe that fact.  My favorite of his practical applications was his exhortation to approach people who seem to be alone during the fellowship times before and after the service.  Fortunately for me, his congregation took him seriously.

After the closing benediction, there was the predictable coffee and cake down in the foyer (not as elaborate as in Clausthal, due to the larger fellowship, but still good).  I grabbed a glass of water and a cookie and carefully positioned myself in the middle of the space so that I was approachable from all sides, but not close enough to any particular group of people that those observing would think I was with them.  In short, I tried to make it as obvious as possible that I wanted to be talked to, though I am not bold enough to approach others when in such a new or unfamiliar situation.  My efforts were soon rewarded as an older man with a bristling mustache and a completely bald head strode boldly up to me and began making small talk about the food.  It wasn't long before the predictable question came, "Are you a visitor here?"  to which I could readily answer about being an American student, here to study and intern, etc. etc.  At this news his eyes went wide and he leaned back a little.  "American?  Ich speaky kein English!  Hahaha.  (All the rest was in German, obviously).  But seriously, your German is so good!"  I politely acknowledged his compliment with a soft laugh and we continued talking.  It seemed the more Hartwig (for that was the jovial gentleman's name) learned about me, the more impressed he became.  I was studying Mechanical Engineering (the name Princeton meant nothing to him, frustratingly - or luckily? - enough the university is not widely known outside the US)?  But women didn't do that!  Or was it different in America? (I assured him that it was - thinking of Birgitt and Kat as well as my other several MAE female friends - a bit more common occurrence in the States.)  What - I would be entering my final year of study in the fall?  But I am only 21 years old!  (This one I can explain - Germans have an additional year of high school and usually attend five years of university, so I am two years ahead by that reckoning.)  By this point he was parading me around with one arm thrown around my shoulders, telling everyone what a wonder-child I was.  I was starting to get quite embarrassed when he turned to me and asked a question I was not expecting.  "Do you have any plans for the afternoon?"  I said I guessed not.  "Good!  Then you're coming to lunch with my wife and I.  Don't worry, we've also invited the youth pastor and his wife.  It'll be a great afternoon!"  I was taken aback but have tried to become more open to spontaneity and one-time opportunities than I used to be, particularly when traveling and on this occasion, my other plans really were limited to napping and blogging, so I figured why not.  We were some of the last people to leave the church, but soon Hartwig, his wife Ursula, and I had all piled into their expansive Audi (one of the bigger cars I have seen in Germany, which was my first clue that this couple was quite well-off) and pulled out of the parking lot towards their home, where Josua and Mirjiam, the other guests, would meet us.

The nicest people ever. They remind me of Nana and Gaffer.

Hartwig seemed a bit erratic and aggressive in his driving, but then again, I have found most Germans to be so in my estimation.  In about 20 minutes we were driving through the narrow streets of a small suburb, finally pulling up in front of a cozy two-story house with bright flower bushes surrounding the front door.  Ursula ushered me inside while Hartwig parked the car and bustled over to a wardrobe where she picked out a cardigan for me (I had overestimated the weather that morning and neglected to put one on as I left the CDC).  She then ushered me to the back door, where a small porch with a sturdy wicker table and chairs overlooked a small paradise.  I've seen pretty gardens before, but this one rivaled the best of them with its perfectly manicured, thick-growing grass, snugly-set cobblestones denoting the various paths and flowerbeds, and a neat little concrete pond in the center, filled with lilies and colorful fish with a net covering the top to keep out the predatory birds.  Colorful flowers of every description filled the rich beds, and in the tour we were given later we discovered that this was only the first layer of the garden and it actually extended out about three times farther than it first seemed, all the way back past the apple and cherry trees to the rows of strawberries, raspberries, lettuce, beans, and tomatoes along the back fence.  I gathered from conversation that there was no gardener, only Hartwig and Ursula who loved working in the dirt and tending to the plants.  Evidently they were also retired.

Soon enough the other guests arrived and we sat down to a splendid lunch of cold cuts, baked potatoes and asparagus with a delicious creamy sauce.  They repeatedly asked if I knew what the vegetable was, but since I didn't know the German word I couldn't say.  They were quite surprised that we didn't have this in America until Ursula brought out the serving dish and I happily exclaimed, "Oh, asparagus!!"  They were boiled, I think, because their normal green color was faded to a milky cream, but they were still pretty good (or at least, I was polite enough to eat my share without complaining).  Accompanying the meal we had, at the insistence of Hartwig, a hearty glass of a sweetish white wine (he asked me beforehand if I would prefer white or red, and I tried to politely decline but apparently was being misunderstood, so instead of trying to explain the different drinking culture in America, acquiesced to the white wine.  It was pretty good, though not the best I've ever had).  Afterwards Ursula brought out a fantastic dessert consisting of vanilla and strawberry ice cream topped with a sauce rich with red berries (cherries and currants, I think) and a strawberry and whipped cream on top.  She informed us that the berries came from the garden, and I'm never one to pass up a good ice cream, so I was happy.

We were all pretty full at this point, so we went out on the back porch to talk and for the aforementioned tour of the garden.  I took plenty of pictures, thinking especially of my garden-loving father and boyfriend and how they would love to have a yard landscaped like this.  At midafternoon, just as I thought things were winding down, Ursula again disappeared into the kitchen and this time emerged with the ubiquitous coffee and cake.  I went for some yummy orange rooibus tea instead of the coffee, still hoping for that afternoon nap, and indulged freely in the various cakes and pastries, again made with fruits from the garden.  Conversation went on and on, and I learned quite a bit of Josua and Mirjiam's life story (this was the first time Ursula and Hartwig were really meeting them, as they moved to the church in February of this year) as well as tales of Hartwig's growing up in wartime Poland.  When Mirjiam expressed interest and admiration for the garden, saying she hoped to start one at their new apartment as well, Ursula wasted no time in slipping on some gardening clogs and moving around the beds gathering clippings for her.  Finally at about 5:30 I began looking at my watch and fidgeting in my chair, thinking about the Skype date I had set up with Joe for 7pm and knowing it would take at least 30 minutes to get back to the CDC.  I still had hopes for that nap, but as the watch hands crept slowly towards six I began to despair of seeing my bed before the evening.  Finally Hartwig noticed my agitation, although I was trying hard to be polite and not complain.  Josua and Mirjiam graciously indicated that it was about time for them to be moving out, as well, and generously offered to drive me back, since they were headed into Dortmund anyway.  This was certainly an improvement on trying to figure out my way back via the trains, so I quickly accepted and we said our (lengthy) goodbyes.  I couldn't thank Hartwig and Ursula enough for their hospitality, but I did ask for their address and promised to send them a Christmas card at least.  They gladly gave it to me and insisted that the next time I was in the area, I would have to call on them.  If I ever am, I plan to do so :)

During the ride back with Josua and Mirjiam I repeated my basic information, which they had missed at the beginning, a little bit but mostly held my peace.  It was past 6:30 when I hopped out of the car and gave them a quick hug and a grateful farewell and "hope to see you another Sunday!"  I dashed up to my room and decided to steal the nap anyway, even though the Internet can sometimes be finicky and it can take as long as 20 minutes to get everything set up.  Fortunately this was not the case and 30 minutes later, after a refreshing catnap, I was recounting my adventures to my bemused and willing listener.  My good luck only lasted about an hour, however, before the connection suddenly and unexpectedly broke off.  I got just enough bandwidth to send an explanatory email and then headed off to bed before 9pm, figuring that I had done enough for the day and needed to get ready for my first day of German language course the next morning.  The weekend was a good mix of rest and adventure, and I was definitely ready for more of both.