the detour - part 2 (Copenhagen -> Berlin)

And then it was Tuesday...And then I was in a plane, again.  And then I was fast asleep, again...And then the plane was delayed, again...

Curiously there was a guy next to me reading a Bible...'angelic direction' crossed my mind, but I struggled to find any words. Thoughts such as: getting out my Bible and starting to read 'in an undertone'; asking: 'what cha readin?'; 'nice Bible', crossed my mind.  Eventually, I got myself together and:

Me:  'Excuse me is that the Bible you are reading?'
SBR*:  'Yes.'
Me:  'Ahhh I thought so. (Silence) You don't see many people reading the Bible these days.'
SBR: 'No, you don't.' (Silence)
Me:   'So are you a Christian?'
SBR:  'Yes.  Are you?'
Me:  'Yes I'm one of JWs.' (Silence)
Internal Monologue:  'What now?!...Sleep: zzzzzzzzzzzz'

My first impressions of Denmark:  'What a chic airport; I wish I had brought another scarf; wow I feel short'

And there was my Sandra...

This girl is my inspiration.  She's fluent in English, Parsi and Danish (and probably secretly another language like Spanish or French...these Scandinavians: there's always another language!).  She pioneers, rides a bicycle, bakes cookies, is doing a degree in Persian culture and is a guide in the Museum of Islamic Art in Copenhagen.  Did I mention she's also an incredible vintage dresser and knows how to 'shake it like a polaroid picture' on the dance floor.

Sandra's door

preaching-> nice berets!

Annaliese, meiner cousine (also an inspiration: how to keep laughing in spite of the obstacles, and enjoy a song on repeat for days) joined us and we spent the night remembering why Scandinavian musicians are awesome. (Insert Little Dragon's Machine Dreams here)

The next couple of days included: bike rides, a 1-hour party, hip-hop classes, private DJ sessions, foreign language witnessing (English!), a marathon (I was a spectator), fireworks, Kebabistan, a smorroebrod ...and Danish (as in the pastry)!

'salt n pepper'

Norrebro

Persian field service group -
'hoodly'* (no idea how to spell it)

not a chance I can remember what they're called

but they're good...

informal witnessing...

lego viking!

Nyhavns

Anis + Malene at Ana-Mia's 

early morning marathon?!

Danish Smörgåsbord aka 'Smørrebrød'

travelling in 'the silent car'

meditating to give
an answer?

Mie and Sara's first daal-bhat

Sandra and Anna

farewell 'glooog'

I should probably write a paragraph for each amazing Dane I met, alas this post is already out of control.  You know who you are:  thanks for being cool, stylish and Danish (apparently those words are all synonymous).  Most importantly thank you for your time.  There's always half a sofa-bed for you at my crib in Sydney-town!

Berlin Berlin

Once upon a time in Deutschland.  First impressions:  'wow that's a cheap Danish! Ich lieber Berline!'

True to our upbringing, Annaliese lavished me with hospitality, force feeding me buns and other pastry related items with the key ingredient ('speck^').  Finally I rolled off the lounge and we made our way to the Hackeschen Hofe...(I love trying to saying this - 'huk-e-shen ha-fe') where 100s of East German Berliners, once lived and worked in the same building.  There's a cool cafe (Cinema) with loads of ambiance and a waiter with even more attitude.  The alley adjacent had some wicked Berliner street art.

We made our way to either Kroetzburg or Alexandarplatz or Rosen-something that night...wherever we went they made some seriously good Mexican...I asked the waiter where he was from thinking he didn't look the most of Germanic of Germans and he replied 'Australia'... Tobias, thankfully was German so the atmosphere wasn't completely lost.

Day 2: Berlin by foot...

Branderburg Gate -
I blame the terrible photography
on a dying battery

After rendezvousing with Alana (sporting, in true communist character, some kind Berliner's khaki jacket) and Dani (a former Livingstone*** girl) we set out to the Brandenburg gate and waited for our tour to begin...Hilarious moment as a rebel 'guide' put on an award winning performance trying to 'poach' his former tour company's tourists.  We were almost swayed to follow him based on his persistence and whit!...But we stayed on the straight and not so narrow with our Australian guide...(seriously - where do all these Aussies come from???!!!!).

I'm not going to recount the entire tour but here are the highlights:

• climbing the 'wall' in a not so communist royal blue coat
• wall escape stories - google it! There are some amazing ones...one 'amor'-based account left us thinking 'how romantic!' and 'what a jerk' in the same moment...
• Museum island - pink sky at sunset contrasted against the gorgeous buildings...beautiful!
• Holocaust memorial - the architect never shared his meaning.  What do you think it means???
• Gendarme Platz - apparently the French have been here too
• Stories about Ludwig the Great...he sounded pretty great...

Holocaust Memorial

climbing the fence which protects the wall...ironic?

Museum Island

pork knuckle and a proposal...

Day 3:  Annaliese and I went Turkish/Deutsch witnessing...She did well but then it was cold so we went for spaetzle (German noodles - interesting that I knew for some reason this is also a term of endearment...)...It was lekkar (hey I know that word too - hoch fünf!).  Later that afternoon we went to the Bauhaus Museum. Contrary to the advertising, no Kandinsky, but some interesting architectural pieces...and did you know this ugly piece of innovation was born in the Bauhaus movement???

bring back the discomfort!

Later that evening we attempted to do the Berliner thing and see some jazz...the house was packed so ended up at a nearby swing establishment, the Ballhaus ($50 if you can guess what that word is in English???)...A fellow jazz enthusiast was disappointed by the replacement of a live band for a dj and so departed, but if it wasn't for the fact we were of course 4 gals and no guys we would have stayed all night...I'm loving electro swing at the moment (and thanks Oliver for introducing me to Parov Stelar)...

cousy bros

Alana and Dani opted on beauty sleep, so Annaliese and I made our way to the infamous 'Green Door' solas...At this point I'm going to say, no, it wasn't a highlight.  But laughing with Anna in the rain with kepaps was (I miss you Anna!). 

Day 4:  Pergamon Museum 

A Hawaiian-born sister who lived much of her life in Ireland before marrying a German (yes her accent is a cocktail of sounds) gave us a Bible tour and it was amazing...

Anna our tour-guide

Highlights:

• Reliefs of the 'Dagon' priest (fish worshippers) in Babylon clearly showing where the Pope stole his hat design from
• Reliefs of 'guardian angels' - so birthdays are religious!
• A tablet showing King Hezekiah showing Merodak Maladan (the Babylonian) his treasure - big mistake!
• The Ishtar Gate -> Can't wait to meet Daniel and his three amigos in the New System!

'Dani and her three companions' -
cheesy I know but it had to be done

going for 'American' after the Deutsch meeting

What did we do Day 5???

Ahh how could I forget?! 'Vintage Berlin' - Kroetsburg???

I bought a mustard beret (I'm as equally obsessed with the colour mustard as I am convinced that it doesn't suit me...), Tobias took us for the best Kepap**** in Berlin and I had my first Western hair cut (in East Germany?!) in close to a year!  Woohoo!

best kepap in Berlin

Then to experience the Germany I'd been waiting for, we went to the infamous 'Hofbrauhaus' for some good Bavarian times!  Our distinctly non-Bavarian group played along well, singing and swaying to the folk music, Tobias even showing what he was made of on the 'Oom pah pah' dance floor.  There was beer, lederhosens, sausage, meatballs, sauerkraut, speck, speck and more speck.  Who needs Oktoberfest?!

lots of speck!

And then it was Saturday...and I had to part from meiner cousine:(  Happily we were heading to warmer territory...

Enter:  Espana

* Scandinavian Bible Reader
^ 'Hoodly' - 'cosy' in Danish
** 'Oool' - 'beer' in Danish
^^ 'speck' - 'lard' in German - 'something beautiful which makes you smile'
*** 'Livingstone girl' - a member of the Livingstone Rd residence alumni
^^^ 'cousy-bros' - New Zealander for 'cousins'
**** 'Kepap' - kebab

the detour - part 1 (KTM -> Paris)

Many of you may already know that part of our December and January were not actually spent in Nepal.  In fact we were in Europe.  Admittedly it was a fair detour (watch this space for the full 'how on earth did we end up in Europe' low-down).  But before I forget let me share our adventures:

Something to with the chaos leading up to our 'detour' and the fact that our airline was called 'Spice Jet' caused uncontrollable laughter as we bounded up the steps aboard the plane.  I'm pretty sure we were laughing well into our flight until the fatigue of the preceding months finally caught up. When we arrived in Delhi O Delhi, though braced for all the India-ness of India, we were shortly over it after encountering a couple of power hungry officials.  So we decided to leave our visa issues til Paris and press on out of the airport into Delhi...

First impressions of India:  Cool taxis!

what the???

Having become the lazy travellors we are, we only ventured as far as our hotel room for our first night in Delhi.  Awed by the television (the first proper sitting for several months) we dined in bed on daal makni, korma paneer and naan, eventually fell asleep watching 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade'.  The next morning, we had enough time to notice a few interesting things, such as 'Aayran Fruit Juice...'

Next leg: Riyadh (the sandy capital of Saudi Arabia, whose name ironically means 'gardens' - two things I recently learned), we looked out the window and saw...sand...and then a grid system...and then an airport...

We were only in Riyadh for 9 hours and didn't leave the terminal, yet still managed to locate a Nepali and leave him with some 'good news'.  I won't lie to you though, I was relieved to be out of there.  It felt like the twilight zone.  

When we arrived in Paris, we were excited!  I felt in a way that I was a naughty child who had run away from home and as soon as my parents would find out, would be whisked back to the third world.

But in any case we were there...

And after a customary luggage haul we arrived at Guy Moquet. We asked for directions and ashamedly answered 'no' when asked if we spoke French.  Interestingly we were not eye-balled or rudely dismissed, rather very nicely shown the way...And so unscathed we arrived at Margaret's apartment building.  At this point we (or perhaps I) stared in wonder at the possibilities of breaking in as Margaret had already left for the morning...We heard some unintelligible noise from behind us and realised it was Margaret's lovely neighbour trying to convey a message...in French...

Side point:  Why did I never learn this language again?  It is a million times easier to learn than Nepali...We had so many conversations about how much French there is in English...or is it the opposite way around?!

Back to story:  So after another nice French lady helped translate, we were in and luxuriating in Margaret's unbelievably visually pleasing apartment (red toilet seat included).

Our first day we spent 'oooing' and 'aaahhhing' as we passed by gorgeous patisseries (cake shops), boulangeries (bread shops), fromageries (cheese shops), even their butcheries are beautiful!  Believe me, after holding our breathe as we walked passed our local goat butcher in Nepal everyday and swearing never to eat meat again, French butcheries seem out of this world!

Palais Garnier
(a couple of English words the French have stolen...perhaps)

La `Seine

La Piramide Inversee

some trees I liked

Alana playing our dinner

 We made our way slowly down to the Seine, and after stopping for a glu-vein (warm spiced wine), then warmed ourselves in Shakespeare & Co. bookshop.  Deciding whether to buy the Ethan Hawk (since when is he a writer?!) novel, or Onegin took longer than anticipated, and when we emerged night had fallen.  We slept early that night and so did not meet Margaret till the following morning.

I emerged in my colour-stained pjs as she was sitting demurely sipping her coffee, reading her daily text and generally looking beautiful. Nothing has changed there.

Margaret

Margaret is a tall, beautiful, vivacious, English sister, who after falling in love with Paris 15? years ago, picked up her life and moved there.  She now serves as a wonderful pioneer in a Tagalog congregation where she towers in her gorgeous heels above the Filipinos brothers and sisters. Yes, truly unforgettable.  Years ago she and her family were neighbours with mine in PNG.  Mum tells me how she never lost her style witnessing around Port Moresby in her high-heels and beautiful self-made threads - > She's my inspiration to serve where the need is great, and look great whilst doing it!

After a quick 'what's happened in the last two year and half years' debrief, Margaret was out the door, off to her English classes and then to her Bible studies.

We then set out (via the boulangerie) to Musee D'Orsay to dwell for a moment among the Impressionists and savour the Noveauness of the Art Noveau...

At this moment I have to say that I completely identify with the idealist in Woody Allen's 'Midnight in Paris'.  You cannot help but romanticise these passed eras shaped by Paris and wish in a way that you had lived in such a time too...

That afternoon we met up with a blast from the past in the form of a Frenchmen I had met in NYC a few years ago.  Damien is serving where the need is great in Paris centre.  He assures me if you see a map of France's territory there is a huge (ok, I don't know if he said 'huge' but a noticeable) red dot on Paris indicating a huge need...His territory (we found out later that evening) includes: Notre Dame, St Germain, the Latin Quarter and other popular tourist destinations.  After sight-seeing, I mean, witnessing, we headed back for blue champagne and salmon with hollandaise sauce at Margaret's -> you remember details like this when you have been living on the 'Daniel and the Three Hebrews' Diet' for 10 months...

Day 3:  Montmartre & Sacre Coeur

I love this statue

Day 4 we were somewhere near a famous arc when bumped into Damien and another crazy American (crazy in a good way -> the crazier, the better, right?...unless it's really crazy), Jamin.  Jamin is serving where the need is great in: Lyon (why didn't I learn French again???).  He has to leave the country every 3 months and so is forced to frequently spend weekends in a places like Morocco...

We bumped into them again at Damien's that night and met some other lovely French brothers and sisters...and even a nice Japanese brother...He was shocked at our Japanese (which consists of the words: 'scissor! paper! rock!', 'cute', 'cool', 'I don't understand', 'would you like something to drink?', 'what's the word again?', 'really' and 'yummy', oh and, 'soybean!' - special thanks to Misa-ji, Ai-chan and Ritz!

me and Prabina

The next day Margaret's Nepali Bible study Prabina came over which was lovely to have some Nepali 'kura kanne' (conversation) again.  Margaret met her one morning thinking she was Filipino and witnessed to her in Tagalog.  The poor thing had had one bad thing after another happen to her resulting in her having to abandon her nursing studies in England and move to Paris.  We had a nice chat, the highlight of which was asking how she enjoyed hell ('nadak')? - I meant to say the drama ('natak')...still room for improvement it seems!

 After Prabina left, we put on some heels and went to the ballet...And I am a changed woman!

Onegin

Before the idea of men in tights -> not appealing.  Now, (and I have to be careful how I say this) I would almost say that the men are the more amazing dancers to watch.  Let me clarify:  perhaps because they are physically stronger and their dancing is not inhibited by a tutu, it is pretty captivating (ok, too strong a word...but you know what I mean -> it's like mens' tennis vs womens')...I had to buy the book to understand the ballet though...

sky outside Le Palais Garnier 

That night I met some more cool Parisiennes, and the first person from Moldovia I have ever met...They played French techno, drove me to the Eiffel Tower and taught me the expression 'n'importe quois' ('whatever...')...

left to right: the Eiffel Tower, 'Radika-the-Moldovian',
random tourist, me, Camille, Clement and Jamin

Sunday we got up early and met Margaret's Nepali friend Maden for witnessing.  He is in a Hindi congregation, which means the common language they speak is Hindi, but they are witnessing to Punjabis, Pakistanis, Bengalis, Nepalis and I guess some Hindis too.  One of the French brothers carries three Bibles in the ministry: one in French, one in Hindi and one in Urdu - what's high-5 in French?!

with Maden (right) somewhere in Paris

Maden, having been in Paris over 20 years knows his topography and gave us a guided tour passed Victor Hugo's old quarters, through Place de Bastille (once home to 'La Guillotine') down to the beautiful Jewish quarter Les Marais.  It was only a couple of days until Hanukkah so everyone was buzzing and merry.  I really liked this area.

That night we earned our stripes as amateur plumbers and rewarded ourselves with French onion soup, foie gras and jazz...

The last day in Paris was technically spent in the Republic of India, ie. the Indian Embassy.  Many hours and Euros later we had our passports stamped, and re-entered 'Paris' shaking our heads and fists at the day's disappointment...Somewhere in the middle of the injustice I made my way to Canal St Martin...this was a consoling sight:

where's a stone to skim when you need one?

Next stop: Copenhagen...

*  'Daniel and the Three Hebrews' Diet' - Daal-bhat