Schwerin was magical, much like Celle, though for slightly different reasons. There was a market right outside the train station, which, while usually a bad sign, as almost anything sold near a train station is low-quality and overpriced, was incredible. I only wish that I had had two stomachs and two wallets: while I tried a couple of pastries, a fantastic fish sandwich, and the best ice cream that I have had on this trip (all for something like six Euros), I was unable to try the bratwurst or fruit. It was a small market, a collection of little food trucks that had pulled up around the plaza, a fountain with some nearby benches, outside of the train station. I spent something like a half-hour there, enjoying the feel of small-town Germany and the unhurried pace of the city in which I found myself.
Besides that, Schwerin was a standard small German town, different from others only in that it had a castle and was located right on the water. I walked into one church that felt almost like a crypt -- it was as quiet as the dead of night, and, at first, I thought that I was the only person in the church's empty, silent vaults. I saw a couple of other tourists leaving as I entered the second set of doors, though, and a woman working there -- the only other person there -- explained a bunch of the church's history to me, of which I understood only that it had been recently restored. I understood her wishing me a good day and said, "Thank you," rather than, "I do not understand," and, later in the day, I managed to tell someone what time it was when she asked me. My Germany is getting a little better, but progress is slow.
Lubeck is Germany's crown jewel, an incredibly-beautiful city like Ghent or Rouen. I explored it with the girl whom I met in Hanover a few days ago; she explained to me its historic importance as a port with a salt mine. I would try to explain this in greater detail, but my throat is sore, as it was a very hot day and, while I drank plenty of water, I, evidently, did not drink quite enough; and I have to get up early tomorrow to go to Copenhagen. The day was immensely pleasant, and pleasant days are harder to describe than strange or unpleasant ones, as the feeling of pleasure is almost always more or less the same. It would be interesting to discuss the ways in which people try to achieve and hold on to this feeling, but I am sweaty and stinking and have to shower before I go to bed.
I am a little worried that my hostels in Copenhagen and London are going to suck, and I do not know if I will get as much work done as I would like over the next few days, but that is not so bad, as the trip is flying past, and in only a month I will be back home, where I will be able to work productively once I have made my syllabus for the class that I will be teaching in the coming semester. I have been reading a wretched translation of Natalia Ginzburg, which I have been enjoying, as Ginzburg is one of the most brilliant writers, as far as I can tell, of the twentieth century; I did not finish my book of Aeschylus and consider him more of a literary relic than a writer of contemporary importance. The birds here have been a little more interesting than those in Belgium, though they are nothing to write home about; the forests here are very dense in every direction from Hamburg, and the buskers here are fantastic. I have heard them play both American jazz and famous classical music (that I could not quite place) over the past few days.
As usual, my most interesting experiences over the past few days have been connected with people. I met an Indian girl from near New Delhi who was studying in Essen and said that one could get a higher education in Germany almost for free, and the girl whom I met in Hanover has invited me to visit her wherever she ends up in the future. Today I met a couple of girls from South Dakota, which was fascinating, and I met an Australian man who told some of the funniest stories that I have ever heard about killing snakes in the outback and racing away from the police on his motorcycle in Russia.
I am growing very interested in trying to work out conditions that lead to maximal realization of human potentialities. It seems that Germany, with its excellent education, health care, and infrastructure and its safety, honest politicians and businessmen (perhaps?), availability of jobs, and funding for advancing the sciences and arts, is as close as we have come on the planet to a utopia, though I am almost surely wrong. In Lubeck today my companion and I passed by a medieval almshouse, hospital, and library, among other buildings of interest. It seems that Lubeck developed very quickly as a successful welfare state; my companion explained to me that its having been so wealthy helped it to develop in ways that were not immediately connected with merely surviving the coming day.
One of my most interesting impressions from the past few days was of seeing a group of twenty or thirty people, perhaps seniors, standing outside of some building or other as though on a tour of it. Death is all around us from the moment of our birth, yet people everywhere strive to create life. The seemingly-meaningless tour outside of some building in the middle of nowhere was obviously important to the people who were participating in it, and nothing more than that was needed to give it significance.
While I am worried that some of my coming destinations will disappoint me, and while I wish, as one tends to do, that I were somewhere else, where everything would be perfect (in my mind), the least prepossessing of my destinations on this trip have sometimes been the most interesting, and I am sure that none of my accommodations will turn out to be truly awful. I hope to catch up on my sleep over the next few days and to get as much work done as possible, though I suppose that I will have the whole coming fall to do that.
Besides that, Schwerin was a standard small German town, different from others only in that it had a castle and was located right on the water. I walked into one church that felt almost like a crypt -- it was as quiet as the dead of night, and, at first, I thought that I was the only person in the church's empty, silent vaults. I saw a couple of other tourists leaving as I entered the second set of doors, though, and a woman working there -- the only other person there -- explained a bunch of the church's history to me, of which I understood only that it had been recently restored. I understood her wishing me a good day and said, "Thank you," rather than, "I do not understand," and, later in the day, I managed to tell someone what time it was when she asked me. My Germany is getting a little better, but progress is slow.
Lubeck is Germany's crown jewel, an incredibly-beautiful city like Ghent or Rouen. I explored it with the girl whom I met in Hanover a few days ago; she explained to me its historic importance as a port with a salt mine. I would try to explain this in greater detail, but my throat is sore, as it was a very hot day and, while I drank plenty of water, I, evidently, did not drink quite enough; and I have to get up early tomorrow to go to Copenhagen. The day was immensely pleasant, and pleasant days are harder to describe than strange or unpleasant ones, as the feeling of pleasure is almost always more or less the same. It would be interesting to discuss the ways in which people try to achieve and hold on to this feeling, but I am sweaty and stinking and have to shower before I go to bed.
I am a little worried that my hostels in Copenhagen and London are going to suck, and I do not know if I will get as much work done as I would like over the next few days, but that is not so bad, as the trip is flying past, and in only a month I will be back home, where I will be able to work productively once I have made my syllabus for the class that I will be teaching in the coming semester. I have been reading a wretched translation of Natalia Ginzburg, which I have been enjoying, as Ginzburg is one of the most brilliant writers, as far as I can tell, of the twentieth century; I did not finish my book of Aeschylus and consider him more of a literary relic than a writer of contemporary importance. The birds here have been a little more interesting than those in Belgium, though they are nothing to write home about; the forests here are very dense in every direction from Hamburg, and the buskers here are fantastic. I have heard them play both American jazz and famous classical music (that I could not quite place) over the past few days.
As usual, my most interesting experiences over the past few days have been connected with people. I met an Indian girl from near New Delhi who was studying in Essen and said that one could get a higher education in Germany almost for free, and the girl whom I met in Hanover has invited me to visit her wherever she ends up in the future. Today I met a couple of girls from South Dakota, which was fascinating, and I met an Australian man who told some of the funniest stories that I have ever heard about killing snakes in the outback and racing away from the police on his motorcycle in Russia.
I am growing very interested in trying to work out conditions that lead to maximal realization of human potentialities. It seems that Germany, with its excellent education, health care, and infrastructure and its safety, honest politicians and businessmen (perhaps?), availability of jobs, and funding for advancing the sciences and arts, is as close as we have come on the planet to a utopia, though I am almost surely wrong. In Lubeck today my companion and I passed by a medieval almshouse, hospital, and library, among other buildings of interest. It seems that Lubeck developed very quickly as a successful welfare state; my companion explained to me that its having been so wealthy helped it to develop in ways that were not immediately connected with merely surviving the coming day.
One of my most interesting impressions from the past few days was of seeing a group of twenty or thirty people, perhaps seniors, standing outside of some building or other as though on a tour of it. Death is all around us from the moment of our birth, yet people everywhere strive to create life. The seemingly-meaningless tour outside of some building in the middle of nowhere was obviously important to the people who were participating in it, and nothing more than that was needed to give it significance.
While I am worried that some of my coming destinations will disappoint me, and while I wish, as one tends to do, that I were somewhere else, where everything would be perfect (in my mind), the least prepossessing of my destinations on this trip have sometimes been the most interesting, and I am sure that none of my accommodations will turn out to be truly awful. I hope to catch up on my sleep over the next few days and to get as much work done as possible, though I suppose that I will have the whole coming fall to do that.
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| This is the castle for which Schwerin is most famous. |
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