In the last fortnight I have spent only three nights in my own bed. Under this, I have stayed in three different hostels in within two different cities. For any backpacker or zigzagger of the capitols of Europe, I merely leisurely visited cities. I am K.O. – knocked out – as the Germans say though. The first part of this post will be dedicated to the eternal city of Rome. Berlin is the dedication of the second, lengthier part, of these travels.


Another blind-booking, landed through German Wings, in Fiumicino International, just 30 minutes from Rome by train. There are two types of trains that commute between the airport and the city: the slow one and the fast one. Of course we took the slow one into the city, did not get off at the proper stop, and spent two hours for a 30 minute ride. Nachher ist mann immer schlauer – afterwards one is always smarter. I should backup though. Blind-booking is an offering from German Wings. They have a fleet of Airbus A-319’s taking trips to various destinations for culture, beaches, shopping, metropolitans and of course partying. For 19 Euro each way (plus taxes etcetera) it is possible to choose from a group of cities under the aforementioned headings, and book a flight. Simply select the city group, enters dates, cough up a credit card, and your destination is revealed. Four Americans including myself took up the challenge – of course we chose the culture option.

Italy has personally always been on a short list of places not necessary to travel to – for various reasons. Desire for authentic Italian food, and lack of travel choice, overcame this mentality though. Our first meal consisted of pizza, of course. It seems plain, but something about brick-oven pizzas is always alluring. Besides that, we were starving and could not wait much longer. We split a bottle of warm red Montepulciano. In fact, every bottle of red wine we enjoyed was served warm, noticeably warmer than room temperature. Sweating through a day of 90 degrees somehow lends itself to warm wine though. It was just fitting. Unfortunately, the price of warm red wine in a restaurant was about the only fitting price in all of Rome. A little bird told me the eternal city was relatively cheap, I found it relatively on par with London. One dinner was precluded by an hour long sign probe for a decent menu below 15 Euro. Each restaurant visit is easily replaceable by a corner pizza and pasta joint, which charge by the kilo and keep the prices down along with service. Italian restaurant service is only a notch above German, and a far cry from French or American. What I observe as a waiter texting and phoning friends, some travel guides have astutely observed as a comfortable-pace-of-life. Admittedly, our restaurant experience was confined near more touristy areas. Still, I am convinced Rome has so many landmarks that it is impossible to avoid tourists. However, authenticity came from off the beaten path: in small side shops and local cafes. I wish we were told to steer away from the large attractions after obligatory photo opportunities: the Trevi fountain, Coliseum and Vatican are all worth a visit, but not much more. Each attraction was seamlessly attached with an assault of souvenir shops, men from India selling loud bright whizzing objects, insistent restaurant hosts, American sorority girls advertising tours of monuments and pubs and vagabonds playing or begging for change. A walk through the hillside in Rome gave not just a beautiful photo and sightseeing opportunity, but also a needed break from the masses storming travel guide and Rick Steves’ recommendations. Despite our hillside escapade, we still led a fruitless search for a truly local scene in Rome – somewhere where the food was just as reasonable as the prices. But that does not mean we ever gave up searching. Discovering Rome by foot was pleasurable, but not without a daily Siesta. For this reason, the metro – a mere euro per ride – looks ever more attractive past lunchtime – despite the throngs of sweating sardines packed into each train. The Vatican city was not much different than the Metro. Filing through security and lines, following determined paths and fighting to stay with even one person proves strenuous. Multitudes of tourists: American retirees who unnecessarily add information on tours, Germans with their telescopic lenses, Asians with their comical facemasks and video recorders, and British who are more aware of their rights than their location, all only serve the purpose of sucking any pilgrimage experience one may expect. Although the Vatican City is clean of trash and the ‘so-and-so was here in 1998’ graffiti, the rest of the Rome has an eternal problem with it. If the beaten path is uncovered for a moment by the hordes, plastic bottles, aluminum cans and broken wine glass protrude from the ground.

I have been to negative though; there is more than the surface to Rome. It is catchable in short glimpses and it gives hope when a weary traveler needs it. Yet it is always a fleeting feeling – an anonymous side street or café where the menu is not translated into English or a hidden park where nobody seems interested in selling wares all feel like little stolen moments of authenticity. Rome is conclusively a city where being a tourist is a cruel joke to what the city is for a local. But until the return address has Roma in the city line, pizza joints and warm bottles of red wine suffice for ‘When In Rome…’


Berlin was a business/pleasure trip funded by the program. Upon arrival we received transportation tickets and a full five-day itinerary. Like Italy, I had reservations about visiting Berlin. For one, it was the fourth time I had been to the city, and I was never all that impressed any of the previous times. A big tower, a cathedral, a gate, a victory statue, remnants of a wall, a checkpoint, and over 50 American embassies of M.C. Donald’s is all pretty boring after a day. But it was a program function, and visiting friends was definitely going to be the highlight anyway.

The first day was merely arrival, discussions about the week, and logistical information we had already been prepped on. It was accompanied by warm weather which quickly turned to thunderstorms, thick rain, and then a beautiful night of post-storm patchy clouds. Each day was more-or-less like this, and despite the rain being warm, the thunderstorms still put me on edge. The second day was spent on cultural workshops and coffee breaks. It was great to interact with people, but the conclusion was that we had already berated the points throughout the year. Personally, I felt the discussions were fruitful, if only to express our own opinions on this-or-that. We caught a matinee of the opera Madame Butterfly at the ‘Deutsche Oper’. The building does not have too much too it, and channels GDR fashion. The opera does not necessarily hit my patriotic chord either, but the music pit offered a good show. The third day was special: a boat trip on the Spree and an jubilee for the 25th anniversary of the program. Going through Berlin on a boat is not the most hair-raising experience, but it beats seeing a city through a double-decker bus. The jubilee was a series of speeches, presentations, and political figures that came after a vote in parliament. It was also a mash of cultures at sometimes between America and Germany. The most remarkable part of the evening was when people were on stage, talking to a crowd of people who were all in their own conversations and not worried about hearing what was going on the podium. It took me a while to tear myself away from listening to the microphones, but eventually the audience became too loud for me to catch anything going on. This is also the same scene which happens in German universities – a definite culture shock for any American. Day four of the trip started waking up way too early. The night before we had been duped by a couple of Berliners who told us to go the wrong way on a train, and we ended up losing an hour of sleep on top of the 5:45 alarm. It all did not matter much, because the adrenaline of getting to be inside the parliament while in session was exciting for a young professional such as myself – the 4 cups of coffee also helped though. We were told a bit about the building and history before the show started, and were advised to shut-up the entire time. The German Bundestag opened with the speaker announcing our presence, us getting applauded, and an immediate debate about an amendment concerning new debts. A party member was allowed the speak from each side, and they garnered applause from their fellow party members when argumentatively appropriate. It is not prudent for the other side to reciprocate. Afterwards we were herded along hallways and stairs into a large party room (party as in political, not the verb usage). We were greeted with an array of beverages and candy bars. Luckily I got one of the front seats, and was able to see the politicians. A couple hours of speeches by exchange students (the secondary school children joined us for this event, swelling our numbers to an impressive 360) and politicians, a round of questions (all capitalized on by the kids), and it was off to Angela Merkel’s house. It was a clean operation: sandwich, candy bar, cookies on the way with trash bags and a quick round through security for refreshments. We gathered around, took photos, listened to more people speak and present on stairs, and enjoyed a catered dinner at Angie’s house. She did not show up, apparently heads-of-state are busy people, but we were allowed to chill in her back yard and soak some rays. It was one of those times in life where you enjoy the moment, but also are reminded of how fortunate you are. The next day was the last day, where we ate breakfast, listened to logistics and gave appropriate feedback. Officially, it was time to go home, but a good number of us ended up staying through the day. The night-life in Berlin was definitely a highlight. It is inexpensive to go out, and the ‘scene’ or feeling is very bourgeois. Berlin-Jung (which simply means young) are all hipsters – it is completely appropriate to wear glasses in a bar at night. People drink imported beers and listen to music with artists you have never heard of. The stores all have English names (like Thrift Store), and charge more for used items than when they were new. It is all a bit too hip, but it was enjoyable for the time.

Leaving Monday, I was K.O. again. But the difference of Berlin and Rome was that I was able to feel like a hipster, feel like a local. It was much easier to find a more local scene (or at least more local feeling) than in Rome. There are no great marble fountains or priceless frescos in Berlin, but the city lends itself to be whatever you make it.