This ITB’s name is Marianne. She lives in Brussels, has friends in Koln and has a German mother. We chatted on the train periodically. Since her English is decent and my Francais is virtually nonexistent, we carried on in my native tongue. (I especially like traveling in Spanish or Japanese speaking places since I can actually carry on a conversation in those languages if I need to). Marianne was sweet to point out the details of the train ride to me. We also had a fun conversation about my reading a Kindle and her reading an old-fashioned book. Haha – “old fashioned.” I know, quit complaining – it was a joke!When we arrived in Koln, she alerted me to the view of the Dom, which I’ll write about later. She told me to follow her off the train and she’d show me around the station. Since I was from America, I think she was excited to show me Starbucks. When we got to it, she treated me out to a drink! What a generous and gracious woman, God bless her. Out of all the ITBs, she’s probably one of the best non-American ones I’ve met.
After saying our ou reviors, I decided to pinch some pennies by walking by the cab stand and finding the metro train. Still, I spent 7,80 euros on a day pass, which I later found unnecessary since Koln isn’t that big of a city. My hotel was in a pretty neat area with plenty of shopping and restaurants. (Later on – much later on – I’d find out that those restaurants were actually bars and clubs). I wandered around looking for a place to eat, and in my wandering, I ended up right back at the station! There were tons of boutique shops and bakeries, but I found myself eating schnitzel by my hotel. I couldn’t remember exactly what schnitzel is. I just saw that it was fried. When I started eating it, I realized I had just ordered the biggest chicken patty I’d ever had! It was particularly good with fries.
After picking up a fresh camera battery, it was off to Dom, the largest Gothic church in Northern Europe. The first thing I did was scale over 500 steps to get to the top of the belfry. If you’ve ever climbed the Statue of Liberty, you’ll have an idea of the close proximity of the stairs. Only the spiral stair case was made of stone or cement or something not metal. The air was dank and smelled like a high school football bus. After practice. Since the steps were so large and the spiral so tight, I was at eye level with people’s shoes for most to the climb, and in addition to the tight quarters, the stairs going up were shared by the people going down. We were all one big happy, sweaty family!
When I reached the top, the gloomy clouds decided it was time to wring themselves out. And boy did they have a lot to wring. I got thoroughly soaked – even with the umbrella I borrowed from the hotel (which said, “Renaissance Hotel” on it… I should get commission for advertising!). It was at the top where I met a mother and her adolescent son. They were from Wisconsin, and I almost blurted out, “Oh, I’m a teacher.” I enjoy making connections with people, but not so much political ones. They had been waiting for the downpour to subside at this open area near the top. I decided to do the same. I had already been to the observation deck at the very top, but figured since I made it all the way, I could scale 150 more steps again just to see the view without millions of droplets in the air. It was quite worth it. Seeing the clear view was marvelous, especially since the rain had just given the air a nice bath.
At the observation deck, that kid kept on following me and asking me questions. I think he left his mom who got tired and stayed back. He has all the typical mannerisms of a pre-sevy. I just kept waiting for him to say “Mr. Santos.” Do I have some sort of gravitational pull with middle schoolers? Anyway, that was another nice home-like connection. Although I think I definitely left my teacher hat at home.
It’s interesting going to mass inside a church that’s also the main tourist attraction for a city. Priests guard the pews allowing only those who are here for mass to enter. I looked rather holy, so the Padre let me in. A group came in and sat behind me and were quickly expelled from the worship area for taking flash pictures. I decided to put my camera away and focus on the liturgy. Until the organ began to play. This monolithic organ boomed throughout the basilica. I kept my camera in my pocket, yes I did. But I turned it on and recorded video of my pocket, and audio of the pipes.
The order of the mass was similar for the most part. It was all in German, but hard to appreciate because I was so exhausted from walking around all day. In the middle of the mass, there were screams coming from the back, which I assumed were just disrespectful tourists trying to be funny or just a bunch of assjacks. Earlier on my way in, I saw a guy do just that during pre-mass prayer. Pitiful. But it’s not like I can control what comes out of someone’s mouth. That’s why the priestly secret service are there, but even then…
After mass, I decided, since I was on the verge of crashing during the homily, to go back to the hotel, order room service and call it a night. Who needs a night photo of the Dom and the bridge when all you want to do is be clean and crawl into bed. After seeing the astronomical prices for gastronomical fulfillment, I threw on a polo and athletic shorts, along with my Crocs and socks and walked out to find dinner. Yes, I looked in the mirror before I went out. And yes, I looked utterly ridiculous. But I just wanted to grab something quick, and guess what I got… another pita pocket! Or doner kebab to be more descriptive.
In addition to dinner, I found a boat ton of people out getting ready to party it up. All of a sudden out of nowhere was a most peculiar thing I’ve seen yet – a “barcycle.” I’m not sure if that’s the proper name, but that’s what I’d call it if I was running it. It’s literally a bar with five seats on either side. Each stool has pedals, and everyone pedals and drinks as the bar moves around the neighborhood. A sober (I’m assuming, yet doubtful) beer vendor steers the wagon. It was pretty funny from a tourist’s standpoint, but would never fly in the States. Ah, Germany…
After eating, sat down on my bed, and before I knew it, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. A bit rejuvenated, I decided this was the perfect time to write. Outside my window, it’s now 4:30 a.m. and I’ve realized that my hotel is right in the middle of Koln Belltown. Only the party’s still going on. I can hear the rhythmic monotony of club music, people yelling and shouting and having a good time. Damn these people are partier’s partiers. And then there’s me. Asleep at 10 p.m., up five hours later to write, and likely going back to sleep. Trust me, I’m not missing out. I’m not trying to go solo to the bar or the club. Which is why I’m excited to meet up with Joyce and Adrienne tomorrow! Not necessarily to join the party, but to finally have some people to talk to other than ITBs.
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