Let the Mermaids Flirt With Me

Let the Mermaids Flirt with me

Danielle Steinman

(October, 2010)

Patrick’s lanky frame made up a series of intersecting lines and angles; pointed elbows resting patiently on pointed knees, skinny forearms meeting together at the wrist where his sharp chin rested comfortably in the heels of his hands. He had found himself a comfortable seat on top of an empty lobster trap and was staring transfixed at the seemingly endless ocean horizon. Clad in the oversized wool sweater and hand-me-down jeans his grandmother had lovingly laid out for him the night before, he almost looked as if had just been transported from the pages of an LLBean catalog printed in the 1950s. His sneakers, which were black and highlighter-yellow, and with which he had recently taken up the habit of wearing without socks and without laces, set him firmly within the ranks of a child born in the modern era.

“What are you looking for?” His older brother, Joe, shouted over the engine from his spot at the steering wheel.

“Mermaids” Patrick stated, matter-of-factly.

“Mermaids?!” Joe snorted, “Find any yet?” Patrick heard the thinly-veiled sarcasm and didn’t appreciate it. He glared. Joe’s smile faded as he focused his attention back to steering.

“Papa and I used to look for mermaids when he took me out here,” Patrick said stiffly, “He knew all about mermaids. He told me that they use sand dollars as money, and they can breathe underwater even though they don’t have gills and that they follow boats around in case somebody falls off.”

Patrick looked to his older for affirmation but found he could not gauge any reactions by reading the back of his neck.

“Hey, Joe?” Patrick asked after a long pause, “I was thinking that, maybe? When Papa got buried at sea? Remember? Maybe the mermaids found him? And made it so he could breathe underwater.”

Joe’s hands tightly clasped and unclasped the cold metal of the steering wheel.

“Joe? D’ya think that, maybe? That’s why Nana started collecting all those sand dollars in the morning, Joe? So Papa could have them?”

Joe sighed deeply. Slowly, he reached down and turned the ignition key, turning off the boat’s rattling engine. He made his way over to the spot where Patrick was sitting and collapsed next to him.

“Hey, buddy. You know I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“And you know that I would never intentionally do anything to upset you, right?”

Patrick nodded.

“So when I tell you this, I want you to know that I’m doing it because...well because I think it’s the right thing to do.” Joe sighed again. “Look, I” He stopped, shook his head and tried again, “I don’t...shit. I don’t want to be the one...” Joe rubbed his callused fingers across his sunburned forehead. “Look, kid. If it was up to me, you’d spend your whole life believing in mermaids and, well, anything else you want to believe it. But the truth is...I just don’t think it’s healthy for a kid your age to go on hoping...” Again he paused, shook his head.

“Nana started collecting sand dollars so she could paint them and sell them to make a little extra money. Papa was buried at sea because he used to be in the Navy and that?s what they do sometimes. There?s no such thing as mermaids. Papa is gone, and he?s not coming back.? Joe said all this very fast, perhaps in hopes that maybe the words wouldn?t sting as much. ?Look, I know Papa meant a lot to you. He meant a lot to all of us. And you being so young, I can?t even imagine how hard all this is for you. But I can?t?I mean, for you to go on believing that he?s down there, at the bottom of the ocean with a bunch mermaids having the time of his life?It?s just not healthy, and it makes me nervous that one day you?ll go in looking for him.?

Joe finally turned to look at his brother. Patrick gaze was steady, unblinkingly set on nothing in particular. He didn?t flinch, or cry, he just sat there like a crestfallen statue. It broke Joe?s heart.

?I?m sorry, kid. I know this is rough.? He briefly rested his callused hand on Patrick?s skinny, protruding shoulder. Patrick didn?t shake him off.

Joe stood up and brought the boat engine back to life. They continued on their way back to the dock. When they got there, Patrick helped Joe tie up the boat like he always had, but did it without the usual fidgety spring in his step. He moved slowly and deliberately.

?Hey, Joe?? Patrick asked after all his regular duties were finished, ?I?m gonna go for a walk on the beach, OK??

?Sure thing, buddy,? Joe smiled. It was the least he could do.

Patrick stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His scratchy sweater was pushed up to his elbows. His head was bowed. The tan leather tongues of his hiking boots, which he wore without socks and without laces, flopped around aimlessly as he walked.

About halfway down the beach he stopped to turn and look at the ocean. The sky was azure and cloudless; the water was still and impossibly blue.

Patrick looked down. Not two inches from the toe of his boot there was a sand dollar, perfectly round and whole. His grandmother must not have seen it this morning. He picked it up and held it between his fingers. It was bone dry and a little warm. Gently he pressed it between his hands, feeling the markings around the tops with the tips of his fingers. For a moment, he just held it. Then he cocked his arm back and threw it as hard as he could into the water.

He turned and walked back towards the house before he could see where it had landed.

Paris

There is a saying that goes: All roads lead to Rome.

For me, during my stay in Paris, all roads led to the Shakespeare and Company bookstore. It seemed that no matter what I would set out to do I always ended up at the crowded bookstore near the Notre Dame.

The original Shakespeare and Company was in business during “The Movable Feast” years where it was a favorite hangout spot of Fitzgerald, Joyce, Hemingway, et. al. It was run by a woman named Sylvia Beach who was also the only person in the world willing to publish “Ulysses” after James Joyce first wrote it. (James Joyce later signed on with a publisher, leaving Sylvia Beach bankrupt. He never even thanked her.)

Later on, a man named George Whitman opened up a new Shakespeare and Company in homage to the original in a new location, right across the street from the Notre Dame. That bookstore would be affiliated with the beat movement with such followers as Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. In addition to this, George Whitman also allowed struggling writers to live in his bookshop and in return simply encouraged them to read a book a day and work for two hours in the shop, in addition to working on whatever they were currently writing at the time.

In 2003, George’s daughter took over the shop at the age of 22 and carried out her father’s tradition of housing writers in her shop. She also hold writing festivals, poetry and fiction readings, and encourages people to read the books inside the shop. There is even a narrow, rickety, wooden staircase that leads up to a room filled with comfy chairs and a piano that serves as something of a reading room. The store has no problem getting business due to its famous legacy, so they don’t mind if you spend hours in there without the intention of buying anything. Convenient, since that’s exactly what I did at least once a day in Paris.

As I said before, it seemed that regardless of what my intentions for the day were, I always ended up at the Shakespeare and Company bookstore reading a book. Or I would end up at the park right outside the Shakespeare and Company bookstore reading a book. Or I would park myself in a cafe with a window that looked out over a busy street with a cup of hot chocolate while reading a book. Or I would sit across the street in front of the Notre Dame and and watch two men in a cherry picker decorate the Christmas tree outside while reading a book.

I read three books while in Paris. Fairly impressive considering I was only there for roughly 5 days. Not all that impressive for those that know what an avid reader I can be.

While spending 5 days reading books isn’t (by any stretch of the imagination) a traditional way to spend time in Paris, it seemed to me to be a more authentic Parisian experience than I had the last time I went to Paris. The last time I was in Paris I climbed the eiffel tower, visited the Louvre, the Ritz, the major monuments, basically I accomplished all of the checklist tourist activities my first time round. I also travelled with an incredibly batch of good friends my first time in Paris, people who made running around the city with a big map, sore feet, and a rudimentary knowledge of French, really really fun. This time round I decided to indulge in something less traditional and more...me.

So I read books, indoors and outdoors and indoors again. And I walked around the Seine. And I read more books. And I practiced my French. And I ate good bread. And I drank good hot chocolate. (One note about the hot chocolate in Paris: they serve you a small jug of melted bitter chocolate with a metal jug of steamed milk and wooden spoon. You pour your desired level of chocolate-to-milk-ratio, add sugar, stir, and drink. It’s magic.) And I listened to jazz in a cafe.

I took casual shots of the eiffel tower as I walked past. I didn’t go up to the top because it would have meant losing my swiss army knife, which I just wasn’t willing to do. I saw the outside of the Pompidou. I saw the monument to the Bastille.

So that’s my time in Paris. It wasn’t riveting, but it suited me just fine.

Belgium

So after about a two week hiatus I headed back into beer country.

First stop was Brussels, which is a cool and funky city, however as the slightly embarrassed girl who worked at the hostel told me:

"It's not a clean city."

And it isn't. It very much is not. But it's still cool.

Compared to the rest of the places I've been, Brussels isn't really a tourist city. What I mean by that is it's not exactly filled to the brim with tourist activities. There's only one major tourist site, and that's the peeing boy statue. And it's roughly 8 inches high. The major tourist attractions are peace, quiet and beer. And I had plenty of all.

My last morning in Brussels before I caught a train to Bruges was spent in a brewery called Cantillion which has been family run since it's creation. For this brewery tour they let me wander up to the areas where they actually brew the beer. I was dodging family employees as they carried crates around. Easily the most interactive brewery tour I've ever been on.

That's not to say it was a trip completely devoid of culture. I did wander into a Rene Magritte museum, a Belgian surrealist famous for his "ce n'est pas une pipe" painting. I saw that one, or rather a draft of the real work, and some other interesting paintings of his. Magritte isn't exactly my favorite artist, but he's still a pretty interesting guy.

After Brussels I went to Bruges. Before I went, I saw a movie called "In Bruges" which is basically about how there's nothing really to do in Bruges. I'm glad I saw that movie, even though it was slightly depressing being a black comedy and all, because it made Bruges a bit more interesting. There really isn't a whole lot to do in Bruges, but it's a really cute and pretty town; since I visitied it on such a foggy day it added a level of haunting melancholy.

I'll end this post on a quote from the movie "In Bruges" because it's a funny quote and I kept repeating in while I was wandering around Bruges:

If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me but I didn't, and I'm not, so it doesn't.

Berlin

After Prague it was off to Berlin. I was told from various people that had already been to Berlin that it was/is unlike any city on earth. I found this to very much be the case. Berlin is probably the youngest city in the world and it shows in the way the people of Berlin act. The city is young and artistic, covered with really creative graffiti and squat houses for artists. The buildings are all high and shiny and everything looks new.

A friend of mine from college is working in Berlin right now as an Au Pair so on my first day I met up with him and he showed me around the city. I started by seeing some parts of the Berlin Wall, followed by the Holocaust Memorial, followed by a few government buildings, the synagogue, bits of the park, some artist neighborhoods and the East Side Gallery.

Day 2 in Berlin I went to the Jewish Museum and Checkpoint Charlie just to knock out the major tourist spots in Berlin. After that I just sort of wandered around the city. Berlin is such a cool place, it's easy to just get lost in it and wander around.

One night I went out with a couple of Scottish guys and an Australian girl and one German woman. First stop was a wine bar that lets you pay them however much you think you owe, which means if you had 3 glasses of wine you could decide that each glass of wine was worth about 1 euro and give them 3 euro. You could easily rip them off but I felt too guilty so I gave them a 5-er. After that I went to a bar that consists of just one giant game of around-the-world ping-pong that everyone at the bar plays. You walk around in a circle and hit the ball to the other person. It was crazy awesome. I never won but I made it to the top 7 one round and I was one of the only girls who made it to the top 7. After that I went to a jazz/blues club that was right below my hostel. Worth mentioning that all of these places were within walking distance of me and after going to and spending a substantial amount of time at each of these places it was still a relatively early night. I still had time to wander back up to the hostel and watch Pulp Fiction with a big group of people. Probably the best night I've had in Europe.

I would love to go back to Berlin someday. It's such a cool city and all the people I met there helped make my experience there so interesting. I loved it there, I felt like I could really make a good life there.

Except I don't speak a word of German.

Prague

I'm getting worse and worse at updating. This is probably because I've been backpacking for so long that really everything I do doesn't really seem all that interesting to me. It would be like blogging about a morning routine, e.g. "today I put on makeup then I went to the gym and after that I went to work." Backpacking is such second nature that really it doesn't seem to be all that newsworthy after a while. I have to keep reminding myself that my life is, for lack of a better word, interesting. It just doesn't feel that way anymore.

Anyways.

After Budweis and Pilsen came Prague. Prague is one of those cities that everyone that's been there raves about. It's definitely a really beautiful city that is full of arts and culture, lovely architecture and unique sights.

My first day in Prague I went to a place called "The Lennon Wall" which is supposedly filled with lots of Beatles related graffiti. I'm not sure when or why this tradition came about but it has apparently been around for a while. When I got there I noticed that the ratio of Beatles-related-graffiti to just-plain-old-regular-graffiti had shifted to the latter, which was unfortunate; there was still a great amount of Beatles graffiti such as lyrics and peace signs.

After The Lennon Wall I went to the Kafka museum. While I'm not exactly an expert or even a big fan of Kafka I was told that the museum was at least interesting because of the way the exhibits are laid out and the way that information is presented. I definitely found that the Kafka Museum lived up to the hype; it was filled with unique copies of Kafka's early works and a detailed photographic montage of his walk to school. It talked about his early life and his personal life and all of it was framed within the context of one (slightly bitter) letter Kafka sent to his father. The exhibits were enhanced by use of sound effects and interesting visual effects. To get from one room to another, for example, I had to climb down a rickety wooden staircase that was framed by the sound of dripping water. After that they had metaphorical representations of his novels (I'm not all too familiar with his works so I just had to take them at face value) including one that was just a white room surrounded by mirrors and when you walked in it gave the illusion that you were standing on a big, white hill. I highly recommend the Kafka Museum to all people going to Prague.

When I was finished with the museum I climbed to the top of a hill to get a closer look at Prague castle. From the top of the hill I got a great panoramic view of the city and a great look at the castle itself.

Once at the top, I saw advertisements for a classical music concert that was being held at the Basilica across from the castle. They had the Prague Royal Orchestra playing inside the Basilica and while it was cold it was very beautiful. The concert lasted about an hour and after I walked out of the Basilica the sun had gone down and the castle was lit up.

After the concert I walked across the bridge toward the Astronomical Clock which displays a show every hour. This was at about 9 PM. After the clock show I went back to the Hostel and fell asleep. Long day.

The second day in Prague, Luke and I had tickets to see The Barber of Seville in the afternoon. After picking up the tickets we wandered around the old town. I watched the Astronomical clock a second time since Luke hadn’t really seen it yet, then we just wandered through the streets until the Opera started.

The Opera took place in the major Opera house and featured some really skilled soloists. It was set in a sort of Art-Deco type setting, I guessed an imitation of Palm Beach or Miami in the 1920s. The major prop was a giant, hollow egg which had a staircase running up one of the sides and a balcony. It’s hard to describe. But the Opera House was beautiful. People came in dressed their very best and I felt very underdressed; I didn’t exactly think to take my pearls and ball gown on my backpacking through Europe trip but I imagine they would have come in handy at the time.

After the Opera I went over to a pub called U Fleku which has been in business since 1499. At U Fleku you don’t so much order beer as they just sort of place it in front of you. They usually only have one type and the waiters carry around dozens of steins on a tray and place them in front of you after you’ve finished. I had 4, Luke had 9. While sitting there I met two women from Italy and then a couple from Manchester. After some really nice and interesting conversations followed by a round of drinking songs led by the locals I made my way back.

The next day I took a day trip to a bone church which is right on the outskirts of Prague. During the plague years the church found itself overwhelmed with bodies so they started making art out of the skeletons. It was probably the picture-perfect representation of beautiful-yet-slightly-terrifying, but at the very least it was interesting to look at.

So that’s Prague in a nutshell. Up next is Berlin, Belgium and Paris. I’ll work on updating all of these in the next few days so be sure to check in.

Only about 3 weeks left on the trip. See you all soon.

Travels Through Beer Country

I'm in Berlin now taking a "chill day" so I figured I should probably update this.

After Salzburg I spent one night Munich, Pilsen and Budweis. Munich was really the only major stop that I cared about, Pilsen and Budweis are pretty much just beer towns.

Munich itself is a very cool place, even though it's still a pretty new city it was reconstructed in a way that makes it look old. Apparently, during the war the citizens of Munich pretty much figured they were going to get bombed to hell. Thus, considering that Bavarians hate change, they took excessive photographs of all the buildings and landmarks around the city and, post bombing, made exact replicas of everything right down to the smallest detail.

What makes Munich famous is of course the beer halls. Unfortunately most beer gardens were pretty lifeless considering it's nearly winter there but the halls were fairly crowded with mainly locals. The beer in Munich is pretty great but what I loved about it was that it is such a really gorgeous city. It's very typically German, which I like.

Post Munich I went further into the heart of Beer Country when I visited Pilsen and Budweis. Budweis is home to the original Budweiser and is not, as the Czechs so affectionately call it, "American piss-water". Lovely. Apparently the two cities of Pilsen and Budweis have something of a rivalry going on. In my opinion Budweis is the clear winner, far superior beer and an all around better city, but I guess that's up for debate. I'm not a huge Pilsner fan, I suppose.

They sell the Budweis version of Budweiser in the US, it's called "Czechvar" or something like that. In the Czech Republic they sell the American version but they just call it "Bud".

Not a whole lot to add to this post I'm afraid. While Pilsen and Budweis were pretty cool cities, they weren't all that interesting.

Salzburg photos

Forgot to add the photos from Salzburg: