Home Sweet Home. . .
Ok, I'm back to work tomorrow (Today). I got home on Saturday at like four, only about a half hour later I was supposed to arrive. I sat next to this thirty-ish Indian dude on the plane, who was annoying but funny. He had a sweet moustache and standard indian airplane clothes - A tucked-in button-down yellow, plaid shirt. He fell asleep in four minutes and started snoring loudly, and he kind of smelled. Whenever teh flight attendants came to bring food, he always provided a comical exchange:
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Milkoff!!"he yelled.
"Sorry?"
"Milkoff!!!!!"
"Umm. . . "
"Coffee wiff Milk!!"
Also, he woke me up everytime I fell asleep to use the bathroom. I thought I had a window seat, but when I realized I didn't I knew it would be trouble. I watched King Kong, which was the most horrible movie I have ever seen. I did get to read a lot of my Grover Lewis reader, which is excellent. His movie journalism is excellent - especially the Sam Peckinpah, Robert Mitchum, and "One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest" stuff. The way he portrays the making of films, and the role Hollywood played in defining oneself as an American, it made the follow-up movie experience to king kong - some action movie with Harrison Ford saving his family from some dudes that hacked his bank files or something - even worse (fortunately I got some sleep during that). I settled in a little at home, it made the follow-up movie sleep for five hours, played cards for a bit during the night, watched some old episodes of the BBC Office. As for the trip, I'm going to have to just post in the snippets format. . .
"OK, new challenge! You pick something, and if he can throw it over we've won the champagne, and that's it. That's the real quiz! That was the real quiz!" -David Brent
One day in Amsterdam, George and I walked all over for a few hours, looking for some things to see. We ended up going to the Rijks Museum, and saw some unnecessairly elaborate dollhouses, an excellent sculpture of a possesed-looking sculpture of Eros, some fantastic trompe l'oeil paintings, and about four of Jan Vermeer's 19 paintings. After that, we were feeling a little tired (Amsterdam was very hot, and I only wear dark clothes - in this case, a black button-down shirt and navy blue pants.) We sat out in the middle of a park and smoked some of George's joint from the day before. As I stated earlier, despite some experimentation in college, I had never really been high. Knowing that amsterdam has powerful stuff, we both took about four or five hits and decided to lay off for a bit. We were just laying around afterwards in the park, while everyone else secretly assumed we were cops or something. After about an hour or so, we decided to motivate and walk around.
As we started to walk, George found a rubber ball probably 2" in diameter. We walked a few miles, almost getting hit by about 31 cars and bicycles collectively, laughing at the thought of throwing the ball at different things. Then a throwing challenege presented itself. There are lots of canals in Amsterdam. So, as were walking on the sidewalk, I offered George 20 euros if he could throw the ball into the canal from the sidewalk. I would estimate this distance at around sixty feet. I then decided to get more specific by claiming the three feet of stone embankment into the canal as "my 3feet," so if the ball hit the stone, I would win. I was quoted as saying, "I just don't think you can throw it that far." He didn't seem to understand the concept of me getting the extra three feet, and I thought he was retarded for not understanding such a simple concept. We argued for about fifteen minutes I would guess. Finally, I just tell him to go to the sidewalk and throw it. He crosses the street. I am very focused on looking intently at the 3' embankment. He takes few steps and throws. I don't immediately see the ball at all, so my eyes drift up and watch the ball sail over the little embankment, and ultimately over the whole canal, which was also about 60' to 70' wide. At that moment I lost it. I started laughing so hard at myself that my cheek muscles started twitching and I felt like I had been punched in the face. We started walking down the street and neither of us could not stop laughing. Meanwhile, more bicycles were lmaost hitting us, as we kept hearing little bells ding and people yell at us as they passed. It's hard to get used to the european bike paths. I think they put them on the worng side of the sidewalk or something. Anyways, we finally collected ourselves and went to an irish pub to get a beer. Guinness would have been too much, so we ordered Coronas. The barmaid looked at us funny and asked if we wanted a lime with them. We said "no." She said, "Well that's good." She may have refused to serve us if we did want limes I think. . .
I am no Yves-Saint Laurent. . .
We just left a bar in East Berlin and wanted to grab a bite to eat. We saw a McDonalds and decided chicken sandwiches sounded good right then. We saw a German drunk scuppah make out with a guy, who then walked out the door. Thirty seconds later she started making out with another dude right in front of us in line - it was sixth-grade style out of mouth tounging - very Def Leppard videoesque. Then we get up to the counter and I say to George, "Wow, I like that dude's jeans. . " George gave me a puzzled glance. Then the guy turned around to reveal a big ,yellow stitched McDonalds logo on his back pocket. . .
Not Everyone hates America. . .
Cadenhead's and Klaus
"I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany. . ." - Ron Bergundy
While walking through East Berlin, Geroge spotted a whiskey store, so we went in. This place place was clearly expert, with chalkboards of hundreds of bottles of whiskey, but I didn't recognize any. Klaus came up and made small talk with us, and we asked if they shipped. "Where to?" he asked. "America." "Sorry sir, we only ship to civilized countries," then laughed and went on to explain US shpping policies etc with regrads to whiskey. George asked if we could have some samples, and he took us into the salon in the back. Over the next hour or so, he talked about his business and we had a few 2 cl samples - and 5 and 6 euros per 2 cls. Here's some of what we learned. . .
The U.S. has a law, which Klaus said is directly linked to the forrestry industry, that every cask may only be used once. Then it must be discarded. The Cadenhead's business, which is based in Scotland and has six locations worldwide, buys the US's old casks and continues to use them. All of the Cadenhead's whiskeys are made in a single cask; thus, they only produce a limited amount of bottles from a cask - around 150-325 I gathered. A cask is usually 200 liters in the US, but they can be adjusted to hold more, usually 250. The great travesty in Klaus's mind about US whiskey is the myth that color makes a whiskey better. In other words, they add water and color, reducing the quantity of alcohol and, in turn, many of the real aromas that a good whiskey can generate. Almost all of the Cadenhead's bottles resemble white wine more than they ressemble a Jack Daniel's or a Johnnie Walker. During our sampling, Klaus brought out an some water with an eye-dropper to add water during the tasting.
This dilutes the whiskey slightly and releases different aromas. Klaus spoke passionately about the discovery of new aromas that every whiskey could contain. I was sampling a "peted" whiskey, where the whiskey maintained a woody taste produced by the cask itself. This is not possible in American distilleries. George went with non-peted whiskey. Afterwards, I purchased a bottle from Ireland, more specifically, the Island of Islay at the Laphroaig Distillery. It is aged 14 years. The wood type is Bourbon Hogshead, and there were 234 bottles produced from the cask. It is 56.1% alcohol, which is notably higher than the 80 proof bottles of the U.S., which is probably the norm. I had a few small glasses last night, and it is excellent. It really burns, though, but you get used to it. If anyone is ever in Berlin, I would suggest stopping by: Cadenhead's Whiskey Market - Ackerstr. 145 10015 Berlin; www.cadenhead-berlin.de
Architecture in Berlin. . .
Cab driver are crazy in Berlin, even when compared to the yellow menaces of NYC. On Thursday we took a cab to the center of town to walk around, shop a little, and see some stuff. The first thing we stumbled upon was an unexpected pleasure, since I did not even know that it was in Berlin - the Eisenman holocaust memorial.
Interesting fact about the pillars that compose the whole - they were provided by the same company that produced zyklon b, and they are coated with a graffiti-proof material, thus limiting freedom of expression.
George
They were donated, though, and Eisenman didn't want them to be coated, but they were anyways. The National Galleries by Jean Nouvel was also a nice structural accomplishment. It doesn't seem possible from the inside, but then you find the semi-hidden suspension cables coming from the central steel opening. You can find it at www.jeannouvel.com.
"No Deutsch. . . "
We checked into the hotel and were second in line. Geroge's girlfirend booked us a last minute hotel before we arrived, and we stayed at a best western at the Kanthotel on Kantstrauss ave. The receptionist was speaking english to everyone. George's last name is German, so he said, "Watch, she's gonna ask for my name, then start talking non-stop in German for like five minutes. . .and that is exactly what happened. . . maybe you had to be there . . .
I should go to bed now, so I will resume this later. . .
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Milkoff!!"he yelled.
"Sorry?"
"Milkoff!!!!!"
"Umm. . . "
"Coffee wiff Milk!!"
Also, he woke me up everytime I fell asleep to use the bathroom. I thought I had a window seat, but when I realized I didn't I knew it would be trouble. I watched King Kong, which was the most horrible movie I have ever seen. I did get to read a lot of my Grover Lewis reader, which is excellent. His movie journalism is excellent - especially the Sam Peckinpah, Robert Mitchum, and "One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest" stuff. The way he portrays the making of films, and the role Hollywood played in defining oneself as an American, it made the follow-up movie experience to king kong - some action movie with Harrison Ford saving his family from some dudes that hacked his bank files or something - even worse (fortunately I got some sleep during that). I settled in a little at home, it made the follow-up movie sleep for five hours, played cards for a bit during the night, watched some old episodes of the BBC Office. As for the trip, I'm going to have to just post in the snippets format. . .
"OK, new challenge! You pick something, and if he can throw it over we've won the champagne, and that's it. That's the real quiz! That was the real quiz!" -David Brent
One day in Amsterdam, George and I walked all over for a few hours, looking for some things to see. We ended up going to the Rijks Museum, and saw some unnecessairly elaborate dollhouses, an excellent sculpture of a possesed-looking sculpture of Eros, some fantastic trompe l'oeil paintings, and about four of Jan Vermeer's 19 paintings. After that, we were feeling a little tired (Amsterdam was very hot, and I only wear dark clothes - in this case, a black button-down shirt and navy blue pants.) We sat out in the middle of a park and smoked some of George's joint from the day before. As I stated earlier, despite some experimentation in college, I had never really been high. Knowing that amsterdam has powerful stuff, we both took about four or five hits and decided to lay off for a bit. We were just laying around afterwards in the park, while everyone else secretly assumed we were cops or something. After about an hour or so, we decided to motivate and walk around.
As we started to walk, George found a rubber ball probably 2" in diameter. We walked a few miles, almost getting hit by about 31 cars and bicycles collectively, laughing at the thought of throwing the ball at different things. Then a throwing challenege presented itself. There are lots of canals in Amsterdam. So, as were walking on the sidewalk, I offered George 20 euros if he could throw the ball into the canal from the sidewalk. I would estimate this distance at around sixty feet. I then decided to get more specific by claiming the three feet of stone embankment into the canal as "my 3feet," so if the ball hit the stone, I would win. I was quoted as saying, "I just don't think you can throw it that far." He didn't seem to understand the concept of me getting the extra three feet, and I thought he was retarded for not understanding such a simple concept. We argued for about fifteen minutes I would guess. Finally, I just tell him to go to the sidewalk and throw it. He crosses the street. I am very focused on looking intently at the 3' embankment. He takes few steps and throws. I don't immediately see the ball at all, so my eyes drift up and watch the ball sail over the little embankment, and ultimately over the whole canal, which was also about 60' to 70' wide. At that moment I lost it. I started laughing so hard at myself that my cheek muscles started twitching and I felt like I had been punched in the face. We started walking down the street and neither of us could not stop laughing. Meanwhile, more bicycles were lmaost hitting us, as we kept hearing little bells ding and people yell at us as they passed. It's hard to get used to the european bike paths. I think they put them on the worng side of the sidewalk or something. Anyways, we finally collected ourselves and went to an irish pub to get a beer. Guinness would have been too much, so we ordered Coronas. The barmaid looked at us funny and asked if we wanted a lime with them. We said "no." She said, "Well that's good." She may have refused to serve us if we did want limes I think. . .
I am no Yves-Saint Laurent. . .
We just left a bar in East Berlin and wanted to grab a bite to eat. We saw a McDonalds and decided chicken sandwiches sounded good right then. We saw a German drunk scuppah make out with a guy, who then walked out the door. Thirty seconds later she started making out with another dude right in front of us in line - it was sixth-grade style out of mouth tounging - very Def Leppard videoesque. Then we get up to the counter and I say to George, "Wow, I like that dude's jeans. . " George gave me a puzzled glance. Then the guy turned around to reveal a big ,yellow stitched McDonalds logo on his back pocket. . .
Not Everyone hates America. . .
Cadenhead's and Klaus
"I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany. . ." - Ron Bergundy
While walking through East Berlin, Geroge spotted a whiskey store, so we went in. This place place was clearly expert, with chalkboards of hundreds of bottles of whiskey, but I didn't recognize any. Klaus came up and made small talk with us, and we asked if they shipped. "Where to?" he asked. "America." "Sorry sir, we only ship to civilized countries," then laughed and went on to explain US shpping policies etc with regrads to whiskey. George asked if we could have some samples, and he took us into the salon in the back. Over the next hour or so, he talked about his business and we had a few 2 cl samples - and 5 and 6 euros per 2 cls. Here's some of what we learned. . .
The U.S. has a law, which Klaus said is directly linked to the forrestry industry, that every cask may only be used once. Then it must be discarded. The Cadenhead's business, which is based in Scotland and has six locations worldwide, buys the US's old casks and continues to use them. All of the Cadenhead's whiskeys are made in a single cask; thus, they only produce a limited amount of bottles from a cask - around 150-325 I gathered. A cask is usually 200 liters in the US, but they can be adjusted to hold more, usually 250. The great travesty in Klaus's mind about US whiskey is the myth that color makes a whiskey better. In other words, they add water and color, reducing the quantity of alcohol and, in turn, many of the real aromas that a good whiskey can generate. Almost all of the Cadenhead's bottles resemble white wine more than they ressemble a Jack Daniel's or a Johnnie Walker. During our sampling, Klaus brought out an some water with an eye-dropper to add water during the tasting.
This dilutes the whiskey slightly and releases different aromas. Klaus spoke passionately about the discovery of new aromas that every whiskey could contain. I was sampling a "peted" whiskey, where the whiskey maintained a woody taste produced by the cask itself. This is not possible in American distilleries. George went with non-peted whiskey. Afterwards, I purchased a bottle from Ireland, more specifically, the Island of Islay at the Laphroaig Distillery. It is aged 14 years. The wood type is Bourbon Hogshead, and there were 234 bottles produced from the cask. It is 56.1% alcohol, which is notably higher than the 80 proof bottles of the U.S., which is probably the norm. I had a few small glasses last night, and it is excellent. It really burns, though, but you get used to it. If anyone is ever in Berlin, I would suggest stopping by: Cadenhead's Whiskey Market - Ackerstr. 145 10015 Berlin; www.cadenhead-berlin.de
Architecture in Berlin. . .
Cab driver are crazy in Berlin, even when compared to the yellow menaces of NYC. On Thursday we took a cab to the center of town to walk around, shop a little, and see some stuff. The first thing we stumbled upon was an unexpected pleasure, since I did not even know that it was in Berlin - the Eisenman holocaust memorial.
Interesting fact about the pillars that compose the whole - they were provided by the same company that produced zyklon b, and they are coated with a graffiti-proof material, thus limiting freedom of expression.
George
They were donated, though, and Eisenman didn't want them to be coated, but they were anyways. The National Galleries by Jean Nouvel was also a nice structural accomplishment. It doesn't seem possible from the inside, but then you find the semi-hidden suspension cables coming from the central steel opening. You can find it at www.jeannouvel.com.
"No Deutsch. . . "
We checked into the hotel and were second in line. Geroge's girlfirend booked us a last minute hotel before we arrived, and we stayed at a best western at the Kanthotel on Kantstrauss ave. The receptionist was speaking english to everyone. George's last name is German, so he said, "Watch, she's gonna ask for my name, then start talking non-stop in German for like five minutes. . .and that is exactly what happened. . . maybe you had to be there . . .
I should go to bed now, so I will resume this later. . .
posted by G.P. at 11:03 PM
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