After my awesome night at the Delirium bar in Brussels, where they claim to have 2004 available beers (this number is terribly over inflated, but they still have more than you can imagine) it was back to the hotel. Luckily I'd met an awesome couple from San Francisco who were also enjoying the fruits of belgian farmers and laborers in fermented form. They were staying in a hotel close to my own and so we three set off back toward our respective hotels. Along the way I saw some guys running around actin' a fool, but it was 3 AM, so I decided to join in. These guys were from DRC (not republic of the congo which is the home of at least one of cologne's lesbians) but the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I wondered what they were doing in Belgium, given Belgium's less than spectacular recent history with that region of the world, but nonetheless, they were running around like idiots, and at least half a dozen brilliantly good, highly alcoholic beers, and a pari of new friends later, I decided that it was a good idea for me to also join in the fun! So I made a joke about the one guy who tripped and allowed his pursuers to catch him. I think I said something to the effect of "He's not ethiopian, he's slow." Although it's possible I said "he's retarded." They thought that was funny. Maybe it's because I called the guy who could clearly kick my ass retarded, or maybe because they were all drunk too, or maybe because I'm retarded. Any way you look at it, fun is sure to happen next!
So they saw a nice american girl who was clearly not afraid of them and they flirted with her a bit, she smacked their asses and made more jokes about them, although in english, so I'm not sure they were understood. We 8 walked and talked for a bit and then alas we all parted ways. The Congolese to the right, the couple to the left, and myself straight ahead. I got to the hotel around 3:30 AM and there was a guy standing outside saying "it's blocked." He was saying this in French, and my french is extremely limited, so I asked him what was happening. His English is extremely limited and he told he "it's no possible. Blocked." He was the hotel night attendant and had managed to lock himself out. I asked where he was from and he said algeria, so I had to fumble badly through arabic and french to procure what had happened. In the meantime a couple from Spain came along, and while they claim to speak english, I think they only understand english. Basically their english is about twice as good as the normal chicagoan's spanish. They were, of course, really upset by the situation. I had to hear about how in Spain this situation would have been rectified quickly, etc.
It was not very fun.
Basically what had happened was that the night attendant was careless, took out some garbage and the sliding doors shut behind him. Of course, from the hours of 10PM-6AM those doors lock automatically. This dude is a total newb. Anyway, I got tired of hearing him trying to call people in the middle of the night and the spaniards (rightly) complaining. I was not really in the mood for conversation as I wanted water and sleep. I couldn't get water, as everything was closed, and I had no bathroom access, so the best I could do was sleep. So I found a nice little spot between two cars parked in the closest parking lot, put my jacket down on the concrete and drifted off to "paradise." I slept about an hour, which is how long I was told it would take for someone to show up. Of course, having dealt with middle easterners and arabs a lot during my life, I knew that was just a number given to us to placate us and assuage us. And so it was, 5:30 in the morning, still locked out. The sun was already coming up and so I took a gander at the nice quiet streets of brussels near my hotel. Finally at 5:55AM I got into the hotel, someone inside had awoken and came downstairs and so we four were let in. I got to bed at 6. Woke up at noon. I got no apology and compensation at all, just an explanation in french that the night attendant had locked himself out. Lame. But, for what it's worth, the hotel was cheap, in a great location, and I'd probably stay there again, but would be a bit more cautious when returning.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
A short trip to Belgium
Being in southwest Germany, it is in fact a moral obligation to go to beer mecca. No, I don't mean Oregon, California, Washington, or Colorado. I mean Belgium. Basically, everyone (except Germans) know that Belgium makes the world's best and most unique (native) styles and beers. For goodness sake, I named one of my cats after a brewery in Belgium. I have not been to Belgium since I was able to drink or liked beer. So, if I didn't make it this time, I would be more than remiss. In fact, I would be a bad person, and in need of seeking absolution from the beer gods.
So I went. From Cologne it's really not very far. About 1.5 hour train ride including crossing a border. I got to Brussels, with only one day to spend and didn't even have a hotel booked. So I stepped off the train, with no map, no hotel, and no knowledge of brussels except a few travel articles I'd read and a fervid love of all things ale. First of all, however, I decided a little sightseeing would be in order. I got into Brussels central train station and walked out acting as if I knew what the hell I was doing and found the main cathedral. So I walked about 250m to the cathedral and checked it out. I love stepping into cathedrals. They are always beautiful, impressive, and usually well temperature controlled, as well as quiet. If you need a break from wherever you are, step into one. They are nice. Sadly for me, before I had enough time to orient myself, it was 6PM and I had to leave the cathedral. It was hot outside. Brussels, is known for being cold and rainy, and for the two days I was there, wouldn't you know it... It was upper 80s and sunny! The beer gods had smiled on me. I set out to look for a place to sleep. Before that, however, I decided to get a crepe and a beer. Orval at the little creperie. This must be heaven! I sat down in a park and picked up someone's unlocked internet connection long enough to search out a couple small B&B places and set out to stay in one of them. Some of them no longer exist, don't rent in the summer season (because the owners are elsewhere I suspect), or are full. Finally I found one. It was a nice cheap €45/night and I took it. I had my own private bathroom and was conveniently located for walking anywhere in central brussels.
I went to my room long enough to shower and look at a map. Enough time there, I have some beer to drink, and mussels to eat! A quick stop by the Mannekin Pis (little pissing boy) and then toward the Delirium Bar! I found the Delirium bar and saw that it is open until 4AM everyday and decided eating a huge pot of mussels would be a good idea before indulging in what would promise to be a very long night. In Central brussels, there is a small district replete with seafood restuarants, each serving shellfish towers, mussels, frites, and lots of beer.
A quick aside, I was shocked that every little kiosk and convenience store in Brussels sells nearly 100 varieties of beer. Brussels only has two functional breweries left. In the greater area, of course there are more, but every little shop in brussels sells as many as they can possibly stock on their shelves.
I went to one of the closer food stalls (restaurants if you like) and ordered burgundy snails and a pot of mussels in white wine. The snails were slightly overcooked and a touch rubbery, but that butter sauce was to die for! The pot of mussels was like ordering mussels for 3. I couldn't even finish the mussels themselves, forget the frites. I did eat some of the frites because they are delicious, but only a couple. I had to save room for the beer! Finally I made my way to the delirium bar, which was utterly overrun with foreign tourists smoking and having a grand old time out in the alley, but I waited it out. I found my niche and was able to mostly disguise the fact that I'm an american by ordering beers that the bartenders had trouble finding. I was proud of that. The rest of the night, that a story for another entry...
So I went. From Cologne it's really not very far. About 1.5 hour train ride including crossing a border. I got to Brussels, with only one day to spend and didn't even have a hotel booked. So I stepped off the train, with no map, no hotel, and no knowledge of brussels except a few travel articles I'd read and a fervid love of all things ale. First of all, however, I decided a little sightseeing would be in order. I got into Brussels central train station and walked out acting as if I knew what the hell I was doing and found the main cathedral. So I walked about 250m to the cathedral and checked it out. I love stepping into cathedrals. They are always beautiful, impressive, and usually well temperature controlled, as well as quiet. If you need a break from wherever you are, step into one. They are nice. Sadly for me, before I had enough time to orient myself, it was 6PM and I had to leave the cathedral. It was hot outside. Brussels, is known for being cold and rainy, and for the two days I was there, wouldn't you know it... It was upper 80s and sunny! The beer gods had smiled on me. I set out to look for a place to sleep. Before that, however, I decided to get a crepe and a beer. Orval at the little creperie. This must be heaven! I sat down in a park and picked up someone's unlocked internet connection long enough to search out a couple small B&B places and set out to stay in one of them. Some of them no longer exist, don't rent in the summer season (because the owners are elsewhere I suspect), or are full. Finally I found one. It was a nice cheap €45/night and I took it. I had my own private bathroom and was conveniently located for walking anywhere in central brussels.
I went to my room long enough to shower and look at a map. Enough time there, I have some beer to drink, and mussels to eat! A quick stop by the Mannekin Pis (little pissing boy) and then toward the Delirium Bar! I found the Delirium bar and saw that it is open until 4AM everyday and decided eating a huge pot of mussels would be a good idea before indulging in what would promise to be a very long night. In Central brussels, there is a small district replete with seafood restuarants, each serving shellfish towers, mussels, frites, and lots of beer.
A quick aside, I was shocked that every little kiosk and convenience store in Brussels sells nearly 100 varieties of beer. Brussels only has two functional breweries left. In the greater area, of course there are more, but every little shop in brussels sells as many as they can possibly stock on their shelves.
I went to one of the closer food stalls (restaurants if you like) and ordered burgundy snails and a pot of mussels in white wine. The snails were slightly overcooked and a touch rubbery, but that butter sauce was to die for! The pot of mussels was like ordering mussels for 3. I couldn't even finish the mussels themselves, forget the frites. I did eat some of the frites because they are delicious, but only a couple. I had to save room for the beer! Finally I made my way to the delirium bar, which was utterly overrun with foreign tourists smoking and having a grand old time out in the alley, but I waited it out. I found my niche and was able to mostly disguise the fact that I'm an american by ordering beers that the bartenders had trouble finding. I was proud of that. The rest of the night, that a story for another entry...
Hilden
After just a little over a week in Köln, Nasim's apartment lease was up and she'd rented an apartment in a town named Hilden. It's just outside Düsseldorf, but on the Köln side on things. Quite convenient if you ask me. First of all, it will force me to learn a bit more German as people in Hilden are far less likely to speak English than those in the major cities. Second, the trains to either major city are frequent and relatively cheap. I should also mention, the trains are fast and efficient. I quite like it so far, but it seems a bit isolated. Things do close early, and there isn't a large culinary selection, but everything is within walking distance, and the apartment is on the "far south" side of town, meaning city center is 15 minutes by foot. I wish I could find a brewery that serves a big bold beer that pairs well with indian or turkish food. I think I'm going to have a hard time with that in Hilden. But I just need to keep reminding myself that two major cities are less than an hour away by train.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Leg two of Beer Pilgrimage: Complete
As I may have mentioned a few (hundred) times before, I don't really love Kölsch beers. However, learning a few interesting facts about them recently, has allowed me not to be so harsh. Asking around I had heard or several brauhuas operations that produce and sell Kölsch on tap in Cologne. Being a beer with a PDO I had to find one. After catching up on my missed episode of Masterchef (USA) (it's totally a guilty pleasure) and seeing all the delicious pork dishes Nasim and I had a hankerin' for some (how can I say anything in this line that isn't an obvious "that's what she said" joke or completely unapologetic sex euphemism?) pork.
We had met up earlier that evening with some of Nasim's friends in Cologne and some of their visitors as well. They were traveling the next morning, and so they left us to our own devices early on.
After wandering around a bit we magically stumbled upon Päffgen. This is supposedly the best Kölsch beer brewed in Cologne. Lucky for us, the kitchen was still open
(Ist der Köche offen? - best I could muster) and the beer was flowing.
Pork, Potatoes, and fresh Kölsch from the tap at the brewery, yes please! It was awesome. I drank 4 (little glasses) which is more than I can say I've ever drunk any beer that I "don't like." After all was said and done I'd had slightly less than two pints, a good warm-up, but alas the night was over. I enjoyed that beer greatly. The brauhaus, however, really made the experience wonderful (of course I had nice company too). The main hall is how the vikings described heaven. A huge old wooden room, with long tables and gentile folk happily eating large plates of delicious heavy food, and sipping endlessly from glasses of beer. And, of course, if you're in Cologne and you don't cover your glass with your coaster, you're surely getting another!
We had met up earlier that evening with some of Nasim's friends in Cologne and some of their visitors as well. They were traveling the next morning, and so they left us to our own devices early on.
After wandering around a bit we magically stumbled upon Päffgen. This is supposedly the best Kölsch beer brewed in Cologne. Lucky for us, the kitchen was still open
(Ist der Köche offen? - best I could muster) and the beer was flowing.
Pork, Potatoes, and fresh Kölsch from the tap at the brewery, yes please! It was awesome. I drank 4 (little glasses) which is more than I can say I've ever drunk any beer that I "don't like." After all was said and done I'd had slightly less than two pints, a good warm-up, but alas the night was over. I enjoyed that beer greatly. The brauhaus, however, really made the experience wonderful (of course I had nice company too). The main hall is how the vikings described heaven. A huge old wooden room, with long tables and gentile folk happily eating large plates of delicious heavy food, and sipping endlessly from glasses of beer. And, of course, if you're in Cologne and you don't cover your glass with your coaster, you're surely getting another!
Party at the JunkYard
I haven't partied with 18-21 year-olds that hard since I was about 18 myself. While in Cologne, Nasim had made a few friends. Most of them international, but a few Germans as well. One friend called up on a Wednesday and said there is a party tonight. I said "great, let's go." As the hour came closer and closer, things got murkier and murkier. I didn't know where the party was. The guy who'd invited us, didn't exactly know where it was, who hosted it, the time, or anything that you might expect from someone who'd invited you to a party. This had trouble written all over it.
Our initial plan was to meet at 8. We ended up meeting up around 9 and I still wasn't told where we were going. Unlike India, Germany is not exactly a place where you simply go when someone says, let's go. Germans are far too organized for that. I was eventually told that we needed to take a train from the main train station. What the hell was the point of meeting at the main train station at 8 then? Argh! I was getting irritated. After we took the train, I heard we were going to Pascha. In case this word is unfamiliar to you, Pascha is the name of the big disco in Ibiza. The european party capital. It appears that many European cities in fact have a place called Pascha. Even in Chennai, there is an embarrassing attempt to replicate a Pascha. In Germany, of course it's a three-story strip club and disco and restaurant. Whatever...
So the party wasn't at Pascha. Although, I guess it was nice to walk by and see pictures of topless women on the way. The party, it turns out, was a "public" party. I have no idea what that means still, but that night it meant paying an entrance fee. I'm generally opposed to going places that charge covers, but this seemed a bit different. If nothing else it would be a good story!
The "party" was completely bizarre. I'm not certain, but my guess is that I was the oldest person in attendance, including security, DJs, bartenders, and attendees. We ended up in an enormous junkyard across the road from Pascha with about 1200 teenagers and early 20 somethings. Everywhere we turned was some "trash-sculpture." I don't mean that the art itself was bad, but rather made from trash. The toilets were an interesting situation. They were up on a platform and paid entrance. Additionally, we had to buy tickets to buy beer or shots of the ubiquitous and ever-popular jagermeister... Teenagers and early twenty somethings are a bunch of lightweights. Rather, they know NOTHING about pacing or hydrating. I also think early twenty-somethings expect to act drunk if in fact they are drunk. Whereas, I know that if you really want to get drunk, make sure nobody thinks it's time to cut you off!
In any case, we did some dancing, and heard some euro-techno and some bad hip-hop and some goth-rock. It was unusual to say the least. Come to find out this place is a gallery or something for a sculptor named Odo Rumpf.
Our initial plan was to meet at 8. We ended up meeting up around 9 and I still wasn't told where we were going. Unlike India, Germany is not exactly a place where you simply go when someone says, let's go. Germans are far too organized for that. I was eventually told that we needed to take a train from the main train station. What the hell was the point of meeting at the main train station at 8 then? Argh! I was getting irritated. After we took the train, I heard we were going to Pascha. In case this word is unfamiliar to you, Pascha is the name of the big disco in Ibiza. The european party capital. It appears that many European cities in fact have a place called Pascha. Even in Chennai, there is an embarrassing attempt to replicate a Pascha. In Germany, of course it's a three-story strip club and disco and restaurant. Whatever...
So the party wasn't at Pascha. Although, I guess it was nice to walk by and see pictures of topless women on the way. The party, it turns out, was a "public" party. I have no idea what that means still, but that night it meant paying an entrance fee. I'm generally opposed to going places that charge covers, but this seemed a bit different. If nothing else it would be a good story!
The "party" was completely bizarre. I'm not certain, but my guess is that I was the oldest person in attendance, including security, DJs, bartenders, and attendees. We ended up in an enormous junkyard across the road from Pascha with about 1200 teenagers and early 20 somethings. Everywhere we turned was some "trash-sculpture." I don't mean that the art itself was bad, but rather made from trash. The toilets were an interesting situation. They were up on a platform and paid entrance. Additionally, we had to buy tickets to buy beer or shots of the ubiquitous and ever-popular jagermeister... Teenagers and early twenty somethings are a bunch of lightweights. Rather, they know NOTHING about pacing or hydrating. I also think early twenty-somethings expect to act drunk if in fact they are drunk. Whereas, I know that if you really want to get drunk, make sure nobody thinks it's time to cut you off!
In any case, we did some dancing, and heard some euro-techno and some bad hip-hop and some goth-rock. It was unusual to say the least. Come to find out this place is a gallery or something for a sculptor named Odo Rumpf.
Black Swan v. Old Brown Dog
While staying in Velbert with more family I found a new friend. His name is Milo and he's an enormous brown dog. His owner/keeper told me he "weighs" 58 kilos. Which "translates" to 128 pounds. Sadly, since his family had a baby, he hasn't been able to get as much attention as he wants. He sits with his frowny puppy face at the window looking in on the children playing. From what I'm told, he gets along really well with the children, but he's enormous and the baby is small. The family rightly understands that this dog could eat their child. Anyway, Milo stays outside and doesn't get as much attention as he probably should. I should note, that he is fact a well cared for dog. He's very healthy and the family loves him, but he COULD eat their baby.
Anyway, as I get bored a little hanging out with middle eastern folks for hours and hours on end waiting for nothing to happen and not being able to converse because I don't speak any middle eastern langauges (except enough arabic to get myself into trouble). So I asked if I could take Milo for a walk. Of course, he went nuts, he started jumping on me. Nearly 130 pounds is heavy when a dog is fast and can jump really high. Anyway, I calmed him down for 3 second, enough to get his leash on, so he wouldn't run off, or if so at least he'd simply be dragging me.
As we started down the road, it was drizzling, but Milo was so excited; he was smelling stuff and peeing on things. Good dag activities. Of course, he was nearly dragging me. Forget that I significantly outweigh him; in every other athletic category he's a lot stronger. So I went along for a walk. Had I had roller skates, it would have been a dandy morning jaunt. Just a few hundred meters (or yards is you prefer) down the road there was a little fenced in area where ostensibly birds come to bathe in a man made pond, and have a quiet area where people and dogs won't bother them. Sitting in the pen was a large black swan. At first Milo saw the bird and walked away. He made a little detour to the other side of the road so as to not have a confrontation. This bird I should mention was probably only 20 to 30 pounds. Yes, Huge for a bird, but not very big compared to the dog. I thought it was rather amusing, but Milo seemed to think less of it.
So we went for a little stroll further, beautiful community gardens with a very German feel. In fact, it looked more like a series of cottages with lawns, except that the cottages were small storage spaces and the lawns were flower and vegetable gardens. Velbert, it bears mentioning, is an extraordinarily wealthy little community. Think Winnetka to Chicago is like Velbert to Düsseldorf.
As we turned around to head back toward the house the mood of the walk changed from Milo dragging me to me dragging Milo. I discovered for a third time that day how strong a 130-pound dog can be. Surely enough we passed the swan again. This time as Milo was lagging behind he saw the swan take an interest in me and so Milo thought he'd check out the bird. Luckily, the two were separated by a fence, which I believe was high enough that Milo couldn't jump over it without a dog trampoline. As soon as Milo came close, the swan quickly turned its attention to the dog. A showdown began!
They stared each other down for nearly half a minute. When Milo finally moved, he approached the bird (probably to make sense of the bizarre smell of this bizarre creature) the swan responded by perching up, sending his neck straight and head high, puffed his chest, opened his wings slightly, and angled his head down directly at Milo. I have to say, it was intimidating. Intimidating enough, indeed, to make Milo put his tail between his legs and walk away without a nice goose dinner. Now that's what I call excitement!
Anyway, as I get bored a little hanging out with middle eastern folks for hours and hours on end waiting for nothing to happen and not being able to converse because I don't speak any middle eastern langauges (except enough arabic to get myself into trouble). So I asked if I could take Milo for a walk. Of course, he went nuts, he started jumping on me. Nearly 130 pounds is heavy when a dog is fast and can jump really high. Anyway, I calmed him down for 3 second, enough to get his leash on, so he wouldn't run off, or if so at least he'd simply be dragging me.
As we started down the road, it was drizzling, but Milo was so excited; he was smelling stuff and peeing on things. Good dag activities. Of course, he was nearly dragging me. Forget that I significantly outweigh him; in every other athletic category he's a lot stronger. So I went along for a walk. Had I had roller skates, it would have been a dandy morning jaunt. Just a few hundred meters (or yards is you prefer) down the road there was a little fenced in area where ostensibly birds come to bathe in a man made pond, and have a quiet area where people and dogs won't bother them. Sitting in the pen was a large black swan. At first Milo saw the bird and walked away. He made a little detour to the other side of the road so as to not have a confrontation. This bird I should mention was probably only 20 to 30 pounds. Yes, Huge for a bird, but not very big compared to the dog. I thought it was rather amusing, but Milo seemed to think less of it.
So we went for a little stroll further, beautiful community gardens with a very German feel. In fact, it looked more like a series of cottages with lawns, except that the cottages were small storage spaces and the lawns were flower and vegetable gardens. Velbert, it bears mentioning, is an extraordinarily wealthy little community. Think Winnetka to Chicago is like Velbert to Düsseldorf.
As we turned around to head back toward the house the mood of the walk changed from Milo dragging me to me dragging Milo. I discovered for a third time that day how strong a 130-pound dog can be. Surely enough we passed the swan again. This time as Milo was lagging behind he saw the swan take an interest in me and so Milo thought he'd check out the bird. Luckily, the two were separated by a fence, which I believe was high enough that Milo couldn't jump over it without a dog trampoline. As soon as Milo came close, the swan quickly turned its attention to the dog. A showdown began!
They stared each other down for nearly half a minute. When Milo finally moved, he approached the bird (probably to make sense of the bizarre smell of this bizarre creature) the swan responded by perching up, sending his neck straight and head high, puffed his chest, opened his wings slightly, and angled his head down directly at Milo. I have to say, it was intimidating. Intimidating enough, indeed, to make Milo put his tail between his legs and walk away without a nice goose dinner. Now that's what I call excitement!
Gay City Cologne
I had heard before setting foot in Cologne that it is Germany's "gay capital." I haven't seen it too much, perhaps it's because it doesn't phase me like it used to. Although, it's also possible that I'm not looking for it or that the distinction might be a bit overblown, or that all the gays have gone on a magical vacation for summer to some much nicer warmed place, while Germany is cold like October (and no Oktoberfest beers either).
Over the last few days, however, I have been noticing some "activity." I think what has happened is that I got out of the hipster neighborhoods and went to old city and a few parks, and nicer areas slightly off the tourist path(s). I have also noticed that in comparison with lesbians there are very few gay male couples. Sure I've seen a half dozen or so (3 in the same park on the same day), but not as many as lesbians.
Sadly, my German language skills are not quite up to snuff enough to ask about being a homosexual in Europe. I think it's entirely a good thing when a society is open enough to have "deviants" (more on that later) accepted in its masses. The statistics in the United States show overwhelmingly that gay male couples do far more for their communities at large than their straight counterparts. (Pardon me for not citing exact references, but I can look them up for the interested reader, of which I think there might be one.) Nonetheless, I find the people in Cologne to be overall very friendly and I think this is related to two things:
1) Dom is awesome
2) It gained the reputation of gay capital for being a tolerant city.
I find Kölners don't begrudge me for not speaking German, and are usually happy to volunteer info about their city. They are also happy to volunteer their opinion that Düsseldorf sucks. I respectfully disagree, but it seems to be more like a Portland-Seattle rivalry. I'm not picking sides just yet.
The people of Cologne love their city, and I think they have a lot to love. I'm at least that happy with Chicago, but I know I'd be even happier if gay couples were just an accepted part of normal society. I will save the Republicans for gay marriage and adoption rant for later as well as most of my political musings which essentially interest only a handful of unfortunate souls.
Over the last few days, however, I have been noticing some "activity." I think what has happened is that I got out of the hipster neighborhoods and went to old city and a few parks, and nicer areas slightly off the tourist path(s). I have also noticed that in comparison with lesbians there are very few gay male couples. Sure I've seen a half dozen or so (3 in the same park on the same day), but not as many as lesbians.
Sadly, my German language skills are not quite up to snuff enough to ask about being a homosexual in Europe. I think it's entirely a good thing when a society is open enough to have "deviants" (more on that later) accepted in its masses. The statistics in the United States show overwhelmingly that gay male couples do far more for their communities at large than their straight counterparts. (Pardon me for not citing exact references, but I can look them up for the interested reader, of which I think there might be one.) Nonetheless, I find the people in Cologne to be overall very friendly and I think this is related to two things:
1) Dom is awesome
2) It gained the reputation of gay capital for being a tolerant city.
I find Kölners don't begrudge me for not speaking German, and are usually happy to volunteer info about their city. They are also happy to volunteer their opinion that Düsseldorf sucks. I respectfully disagree, but it seems to be more like a Portland-Seattle rivalry. I'm not picking sides just yet.
The people of Cologne love their city, and I think they have a lot to love. I'm at least that happy with Chicago, but I know I'd be even happier if gay couples were just an accepted part of normal society. I will save the Republicans for gay marriage and adoption rant for later as well as most of my political musings which essentially interest only a handful of unfortunate souls.
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