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Published: November 17th 2008
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Instant Sleep
the best hostle ever I shared a ride to Hamburg with a man named Sven and a nineteen year old guy who was serving his civil service time in the army. His station was in Bulgaria. I was dropped off at my hostel around 11pm/23:00 and I decided after taking a little walk around to find a cash machine that I would get a proper night sleep, as I had grown accustom to only having about four every night. I checked into Instant Sleep hostel, which is probably the best hostel I have ever stayed in. The people and atmosphere are amazing and the location is perfect. I ran into one of the women who worked at the hostel the next evening at a show I stumbled upon and she got me a half price ticket. I spent the first two nights in a 10 person room and then the next night in the 25 person room, which took up the whole of the 2nd level of the hostel. I had an AMAZING time in Hamburg. It was the first time I had ever traveled someplace without going to visit someone or with a travel buddy. When I was getting settled in my room I
Graffitti Steps
around the corner from the hostle met a strange little Dutch man who spoke pretty good English and who for all the world looked like a lonely middle-aged version of digger (the mole from Winnie the Pooh). He asked me if I wanted to visit a concentration camp with him. I followed the first rule of impove, which is always say “yes”. So I did. I thought maybe this would be a bit intense for my first sight to stop at, having performed at the Holocaust Museum in DC for three years I know a fair amount about the Holocaust, but the closest I had come, until that day, to actually visiting a holocaust site was visiting the ghetto in Venice. But I went. The next morning we bought some fruit from a street vender and took a series of trains and busses out into the country side. I hadn’t even seen the city and I was heading out into villages with thatched roof houses and people who moved at a country pace. The visit was emotionally and the Iven (the Dutch Digger) as socially oquard as he was, was kind and respectful of my silence and watery eyes. We went back into the city. It
was noon and raining. I took my leave of Iven and went to a café to write in my journal. Then I spent the cloudy afternoon checking out the ‘tourist’ sights. I saw the city hall, the lake in the middle of the city, while I was heading to the port it began to rain and I hid in a strange little rock museum for 40min or so. I found an old bombed out cathedral which now stands as a war memorial, which like so many things in Germany, for a small fee, you can pay to go to the top of and see the city from X storeys high - I think it was 700some meters high for this one. The German, from what I’ve seen at memorials, have a very polished and even minded way of describing the events of the world war. I am sure that there are some Germans that would be happy to share with me a more one sided personal point of view but as far as for the views I heard they eloquently and maturely acknowledged both their and others fault in the World Wars. I found this both in Hamburg and later
Down Town
fountain in the middle of goverment building in Berlin. I stumbled upon an outdoor Faust like show, the one that the hostel receptionist worked at, it was all in German but I followed the over all story. They used the environment wonderfully. The stage was next to the river and they used the bridge, the river, the windows of the warehouse across the river. It was exhausting watching and most of the clever jokes (which the rest of my posh audience mates/members laughed at) I obviously missed out on. Still it felt good to see some theatre. I decided to finish up tourist check list and headed off around 10pm/22:00 to St. Pauli, Hamburgs famous red-light district. I got off the train at the St. Paul station and found myself in DOM a huge, obnoxiously huge and neon, carnival. I walked around it for a little while, saw the first works feeling more or less overwhelmed and understanding more and more how my father feels in crowed loud places. My senses were so sharpened after trying to discern a full length play in a foreign language that everything at DOM was just too much for me. I left after walking the outer circle of the carnival and
meaning to find a bar to sit and write in my journal in (this is what I always do, I find someplace with interesting people, sit, write in my journal and only once have I even not ended up at least striking up an interesting conversation with one or several strangers. So after passing a few little bars I found St. Pauli, the red light district. I walked through the larger more commercial area, and then further into St. Pauli and walked in and out of pubs, and enjoyed several free glasses of champaign. Before I found the proper red light street (which according to Patrick, an Italian from Munich, told me that women aren’t allowed on that street, and I did notice I was the only women on the street not in a window, but I made it out unscathed) The rest of the prostitutes in St. Pauli wear hip packs, that’s how you know a women is a prostitute in Germany FYI and yes, I did see an obvious tourist women walking in St. Paul getting strange looks. So I found my way into the only Burlesque in St. Pauli and started talking to Tami and Patrick. They
Cathedral Memorial
Statue and bell tower ended up being some of my favorite friends, that I met out. We spent the whole evening talking and they took me all the rockabilly hangouts. At 5am I found myself in a bar and was the only person no wearing black. The next day I walked around all day in the alternative neighborhoods. Went out dancing with some people I met in a café near my hostile and then went to the Sunday morning fish market. It a strange mix of drunk people out from the Saturday night before and tourist who woke up early. It was a little too touristy for my taste but I’m glad I went. Went back to the hostle for a couple hours of sleep and then I caught my ride to Berlin for the last leg of my journey.
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