If I could come up with one word to describe this weekend: crazies. In fact, I did call it that, far before I really knew the extremes of crazies. We had an long, stressful week in Prague, and were planning a trip to Dresden to visit an old teacher. On Saturday we got up early and got to the train station without any problems, boarded our train and got to Dresden stress-free. When we got our bearings we decided to walk the Prager Strasser (the main street) from the train station to our hostel. The moment we crossed to the Prager Strasser, we were in the middle of a giant crowd, with street vendors and food carts advertising bratwurst, brezels, and bier, while Dixieland jazz played in the background. The International Dixieland Festival was in full swing! (Pun very much intended.)
With our luggage we ventured through the festival, crossed the Elbe from Altstadt to Neustadt and an hour and a half later, we arrived at Hostel Lollis Homestay, a very down-to-earth place. Think East Village meets San Francisco, with a splash of Seward Minneapolis (for those readers sophisticated enough to know what that is :-P ) . They had old but free bikes we borrowed, though only enough for two of us. After Christine rented a bike for the day, the three of us took off down back to Aldstadt and the Festival. We quite enjoyed ourselves. There was delicious German beer von Fass (on tap) and juicy bratwurst. Erika treated herself to a giant soft pretzel, while Christine noshed on a donut the size of her face. I downed two brats. Several times I had the epiphany that I was in GERMANY and how lucky I was! Sitting on the steps with my two good friends, listening to Dixieland, enjoying our food. What could be better?
Well actually, we found that out. After recovering from our brief food-coma, we hopped on our bikes again, and decided to go as far as we could along the Elbe River. The city has fantastic bike paths, and is a very bike-friendly place. Once we passed the most historic part of the city, we found ourselves on a most-Sound-of-Music-esque bike path, under a cathedral of trees for as far as we could see. I felt like I could be anywhere. At once I felt like I was in Minneapolis biking along the Mississippi, and perhaps I could emerge and find myself in Virginia, then turn around and be back in Germany. It felt magical.
For the rest of the afternoon we continued biking. We eventually went back to the center of Dresde, then crossed the Elbe and biked first northwest, then returned and went the opposite direction. As afternoon slid into early evening, a slight haze descended on the city. We passed great mansions looking out onto the river, vineyards on the steep slopes, and an old building that looked like a tower of a medieval castle. The images fly by me in a rush now, but then it was just beauty after beauty. It was so much I could hardly take it all in. As night fell, we turned back and returned to Dresden-proper. Christine returned her bike, and it was all we could do to stumble back to our hostel and grab a quick meal. We were in bed by 11pm, exhausted.
The next day we were all exhausted from our walking and biking, so we took it easy, and strolled around the Atlstadt, killing time until our meeting with our former teacher, Gerald Casel. We met him and his husband at a Starbucks and had a lovely visit with him. Their perspective on Dresden was quite different than ours. As Americans living in the city, they felt very isolated. Germans who grew up under the shadow of the Soviet Union learned Russian in school, not English, and so communication with over half of the population is difficult. They noted that the division between social classes was huge, with a small percentage of the city in support of a more broad view of culture, while the majority were content with blue-collar jobs, drinking beer, eating cake and brats. Not to put words in his mouth, but Gerald seemed to have a terrible time as a teacher in the school. He had the same class five days a week, from August 22nd until July 7th (that's eleven months with the same students). Even with a great teacher like Gerald, I'm sure the students were bored, and he admitted his frustration at having to stretch materiel for weeks and months, when it usually takes days. Despite this, we had a lovely visit with him and we all felt this was the highlight of our trip.
When we were returning, things began to get crazier. To begin with, one of the train's cars' AC had shut down, so as a result the rest of the cars were packed full. Thankfully we had gotten seats before this. After we got off the train and were walking back to the Conservatory, it began to downpour. We had no choice but to keep walking. "At least we're going home and we can change," we all thought. Fate had a different idea for us. We got into the Conservatory, and got in the elevator, and pressed 3. The door closed, but the elevator didn't move. We tried to open the door, but it didn't respond. We pressed every floor, but nothing happened. I momentarily panicked, but Christine and Erika helped calm me down. The emergency button was only an alarm that sounded in the building, and because it was Sunday it was deserted. We pulled out our phone to call Claire, the only person we thought could help us who spoke English, but then our phone died.Thankfully Christine had bought her own phone earlier in the weekend and had put all our potential emergency numbers in. She called Claire back, and she made a series of calls, then called us back. "I have good news and bad news, what do you want to hear first?" Obviously we chose the bad news. The portier was at his cottage and it would take him forty-five minutes to reach the Conservatory. The good news was that she had reached the elevator company and they were sending someone. He didn't speak English, but she could talk to him over the phone if need be. All we could do was laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. It felt like a movie: dripping wet, trapped in a tiny glass elevator, a dead phone, a deserted building, in a foreign country.
An hour after we'd been trapped, the portier came in (he had only taken twenty minutes, bless him!) and the repair-man came in soon after. We were out within two minutes of their arrival. We thanked both of them profusely, then took the stairs up to our room. It was all I could to do shower, write a little about the craziness of what had happened, and before I knew it, I was fast asleep.
Dare I ask, what comes next?
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