Just Munich, Paris, and Lauren

Hello again! I do apologize that I haven't updated this in a while, but there has been a lot going on in this American brain in England.

I'll get to Munich in a moment, but first, my troubles: Most of the people who read this (well, all of the people who read this- except for the Northeastern Bureau of Study Abroad Journal Checkers) will know, because of my self-indulgent whining and justified bitching, that I've recently had a bit of a falling out with my flatmates, the MFAs. To make a long story short, after Munich, and a reasonable tension that was apparently resolved, my flatmate Sarah came in wanting to discuss how I don't fit in with the rest of them and how that makes her uncomfortable. I assured her that I was fine on my ownish, and that I definitely like all of them (half true, I think), so no need to worry.

"Of course, if you're bringing this up because you don't like me, then obviously, I can't hang around anymore," says I. Apparently, this was the case.

She felt bad, and guilty, and blah, blah, blah. I'm sure it was incredibly difficult for her. Especially when the rest of MFAs haven't even really noticed that I've been ostracized. But alas, life goes onward. And I'm working on the better friends initiative, but even if it doesn't work out, I've got excellent friends in Boston and Atlanta, and hey, I am still in London! And I really, really do love London.

So. Munich. Munich was...miserable. Comically so. In fact, I had a great deal of fun hating Munich, its horrible weather, its architecture, and of course, its Nazi past. Our flight was very early, to the point of not sleeping the night before, so we were tired to the point of hysteria and deliriousness before we could even see our room.

And then we were fined 5 Euro. No joke. We crossed the street before we had the appropriate signage, and a member of the polizei stopped us and lectured in broken English how 7 Rebellious Citizens of Munich died last year because of jaywalking (do they call it that, there?) and that...is why...I am here...and...five euro, please. I paid, if only for my Souvenir Receipt of German Malfeasance. This did not help improve our perversely distorted opinion of the city. Man, I wish we had gone to Berlin, I said again, to no one.

We went then to the City Hall at Marienplatz, which was a fine building, albeit a bit scary and imposing. Very Gothic. Very Terrifying. All the stone characters adorning the jambs, columns, and buttresses seemed to scream or seek to induce screaming. The people, too, were quite short (of temper) and intimidating, as evidenced by the trouble with our hotel (less said about it the better, suffice it to say they did not like 4 people staying in a room for 2) and the general gloominess of the place. The Hofbrauhaus, that is, the enormous beer garden for which Munich is famous, was fun, though a bit hokey. I kind of felt like I was back in Epcot. And polka music can indeed grate, after a few seconds. Though, fortunately, I met a guy there who shared my admiration for Blackadder, and more particularly the comedy team of Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie. Still, I wish we had gone to Berlin, I said again, to him.

At the end of the day, and after a nap, we were so desperate for some Americana, that we had no choice but to dine at the overpriced, undercultured Hard Rock Café. I did not buy a shirt. I would have bought one in Berlin. Our waitress directed us to the club district, where we danced for much longer than I should have liked. Such is always the case, it seems. Man, I should dump those kids.

The next day, I woke up early to finish The Mysterious Affair at Styles, a very fine book, for my Detective Novel to Crime Fiction class, and the others later joined me and we traveled to Dachau, the site of the first concentration camp of the Nazi regime. I can't really explain fully what it was like to see Dachau, but I can encourage anyone who reads this to visit the site of a concentration camp at some point in their life if at all possible. It's really an extraordinary thing, and your understanding of the Holocaust will be quite profoundly shaken. I elected to go along with them to Dachau instead of seeing the art museums, for shallow reasons that resulted in the tension I spoke of, and while I am sad not to have seen the art that Munich could have offered, I certainly wouldn't trade the experience.

Still, it would have been nice to have been in Berlin, too.

Anyway, upon our return, I received my inglorious, if tentative, dismissal, then proceeded to become sick and depressed, in between classes and a pleasant night of Pub Quizzing with pleasant friends-of-a-friend. We performed abysmally, and not only because of our not being British. But, never fear, Americans. Our reputation is not harmed (anymore than it was already), for our team name was "We're Canadian." Take that, hosers! Anyway, I decided that a trip to Paris would be another nice way to make myself happier...to get my groove back. So I went.

It was a very short visit, and I had visited most of the tourist attractions on a previous visit, so I decided to dedicate my stay to the Louvre and the atmosphere. I had a nice time. The Louvre was even more excellent than I anticipated (though, it still did not manage to crack the top 5 Art Museums) and I quite enjoyed being overwhelmed by the magnitude of the place. There was something peculiar about the expression of that Mona Lisa picture, so I couldn't really understand what all the fuss was about, especially with all the Veroneses in the same room, and Gericault's Raft of Medusa looked even better in person than it does reproduced in vegetables as an occasional desktop background for my computer.

One great surprise, was to see one of my favorite series of portraits, the Four Seasons Portraits by Giuseppe Arcimboldo. I had no idea that those wacky paintings were in the stuffy Louvre. You see, it's rather like the Gericault made up of vegetables, but instead, this 16th century Italian originally painted a series of self-portraits made up of flowers, produce, and leaves. Genius.



After the Louvre, I walked around until dark. Traveling alone, I decided it would be best not to be out past dark (and what would I do, anyway?) Before heading back to the hotel, I saw the opera house, and the Eiffel Tower, and several very French-looking cafés and brasseries. I enjoyed myself, but felt a little lonely. Such is the Lauren way, I suppose.

Anyway, outside the Louvre, a man spoke to me in French (probable translation: "Just need to check that you're not actually French before I say the thing that usually works on American tourists...American tourist says 'what?'") and when he realized I was American (Me: "What?") He told me that I have a very Parisian style, and welcomed me to his country. Later, the receptionist at the hotel (a woman in customer service) told me my hat was beautiful (well, it was- excellent, TJ Maxx, we've fooled them!), so that helped. Nothing helps a sad, lonely American tourist smile again like art and some validation from the French.

So, tomorrow, I am off on my own again to Edinburgh, and then to Amsterdam, and Brussels. It's reading week, and my Modernism and Drama paper isn't due next Monday after all (hooray!). The flatmates will be in Amsterdam and Brussels, but excluded me from the booking of the hotel/hostel. I might use them for a dinner here and there, but I plan to get better at keeping my own company, so who needs them? Hopefully, too, the hostel environment will prove more social than sketchy, and I'll make some friends who are not raping thieves.

Yikes. This is going to be an adventure. I'll keep up the posting!

Also, for reference, an update and expansion- and I still haven't seen any of Berlin (or D'Orsay, or the Orangerie, or the Van Gogh in Amsterdam, or...):

10. Picasso Museum (Barcelona, Spain)
9. Park Guell (Barcelona, Spain) (This counts, I think)
8. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (Boston, USA)
7. Tate Britain (London, England)
6. Louvre (Paris, France)
5. Henri Matisse Museum (Nice, France)
4. Tate Modern (London, England)
3. Isabella Stewart Gardner (Boston, USA)
2. National Portrait Gallery (London, England)
1. MoMA (New York, USA)