The Brandenburg Gate

To mark the spring equinox, winter pulled hard in the tug o’ war between it and spring, with snow falling overnight. By day, spring pulled back, melting most of the snow.

The weather during almost all of our trip turned out better than expected. Japan was dry and fairly chilly some days, but not others, even up north in Tokyo. As for north-central India, February is a good time to visit: slightly cool at night, warm or very warm during the day, and no rain at all, much like the days we spent in Mexico City. Later in the year, I understand, heat begins to oppress the region and soon the monsoon comes. In Dubai: consistently warm, almost hot in the afternoons, but never unbearable desert heat, which will come soon enough as well.

Germany and the Czech Republic were a pleasant surprise, mostly. During the first few days, temps were cool but not cold. The warmish Saturday Jay and I went to Museumsinsel, Berliners were out in numbers, sitting and lying around on the green space next to the Berliner Dom. Only toward the end of our visit did it get as cold as we’d expected, just above freezing, and there was light rain the day we returned to Berlin from Prague, and a little more the cold morning we left.

The day I got back to northern Illinois was warm and pleasant, until it wasn’t. That tug o’ war in action.

The very first thing I wanted to see in Berlin this time around was the Brandenburg Gate (Brandenburger Tor). I’d seen it before, of course, but let’s say the circumstances were a little different. On July 8, 1983, I wrote, a little confusingly:

The gallery [National Gallery] wasn’t that large, which was a virtue, and later we headed for the Reichstag to catch a bus. En route we passed as close to the Brandenburg Gate as you can without getting shot at.

I suppose I meant that we walked from the western National Gallery just south of the Tiergarten – not the National Gallery building in the east, since we didn’t visit East Berlin until the next day – to the Reichstag building, then a museum, to catch a bus westward, toward our hostel. Such a walk would take you within sight of the Brandenburg Gate, but not next to it, since the gate was in the east, behind the Wall.

These days, one can stroll right up to the Brandenburg Gate and pass under it. A lot of people do. Jay and I did on March 7.Brandenburg Gate 2025 Brandenburg Gate 2025 Brandenburg Gate 2025

Pass through going west, and pretty soon you’re within sight of the Reichstag building.Reichstag 2025

The ghost of the Berlin Wall runs through the platz behind the Reichstag.Site of Berlin Wall Site of Berlin Wall

The front of the Reichstag building.Reichstag building 2025

Unlike 40 years ago, when you could wander in and see a few rooms, going in these days involved timed tickets and other rigmarole, so we didn’t bother. Instead we repaired to a small establishment a short ways into the Tiergarten for refreshments. In my case, a soft drink I’d never heard of before, though I could have encountered it in its place of origin, Vienna. Not bad.

The Brandenburg Gate has been the site of a goodly share of history since Friedrich Wilhelm II had it built, such as Napoleon parading through (and swiping part of it), soldiers posted atop during the Spartacist uprising, and President Kennedy not really calling himself a jelly doughnut nearby.

Events continue. Late afternoon on the 9th, we saw one ourselves, a rally to the west of the gate, voicing German support for Ukraine.Brandenburg Gate 2025 Brandenburg Gate 2025

The gate was catching the setting sun about then.Brandenburg Gate 2025

Nice. Glad to make it to post-unification Berlin.

Around the World ’25

At times like this, in the funk that comes after a long trip, I ask myself, did I actually do that? An odd question, maybe, but long travels have that odd effect. Somehow such a trip seems less than real. Also more than real. Those are essential features of the intoxication of the road, and hangovers follow intoxication.

Ponder this: Over roughly the last five weeks, starting on February 8, in a series of eight airplane flights, a small number of intercity train trips on either side of the Eurasian land mass (including one of the fastest trains in existence), a large number of subway, streetcar and even monorail rides, a few taxi rides, other car rides provided by friends and relatives and a hired driver, a bicycle rickshaw ride — and you haven’t lived and almost died (or at least felt that way) till you’ve taken such a conveyance in Delhi — climbing a lot of stairs and using a lot of escalators and elevators, and taking more than a few long walks, and many short walks, on sidewalks and cobblestone streets and railway station platforms, I went around the world in a westward direction, from metro Chicago to metro Chicago, by way of Japan, India, the United Arab Emirates, Germany and the Czech Republic.

All that effort for what? To see the world, of course. That and skip out of much of winter in northern Illinois.

How did I have the energy for this, here at the gates of old age? How are the logistics possible?

But it really isn’t that hard. This is the 21st century, and travel is mostly by machine, and part of a mass industry, so even old men firmly from the middle class can go. Retired and semiretired old men, who find themselves with more free time than in previous decades. Moreover, the logistics were the least of it: all you need in our time is a computer to set things up.

I’m convinced that the hard part, for many people, would be finding the will to go. Luckily I have a practically bottomless supply. My always-eager-to-go attitude toward seeing point A and then points B, C and so forth also meant I was completely persuaded that buzzing around the world was a good idea. Tired as I am now — and boy am I tired — I haven’t changed my mind, though I need to rest up a bit at the moment.

Japan: my first visit in 25+ years.Rising Sun

It felt familiar — I did live there for four years — but the passage of time also infused the place with a feeling of the unfamiliar as well, a strange combo sensation indeed.

India: A major lacuna in my travels, now just a little less so.Indian Flag

A friend who goes to India sometimes on business, told me last fall, “India makes me tired.” I might not have been on business, but I ended up feeling the same way.

And yet —  a phantasmagoria unlike anything I’ve seen, especially the teeming city streets. Teem was never more an apt verb, in my experience. Yuriko came as far as India with me, after we visited Japan and her family and friends there. Then she headed back eastward to Illinois.

I went on alone from India to the UAE.UAE Flag

In an even less familiar part of the world, a city of towers somehow rises on the edge of the Arabian desert. Just that is astonishing in its own way, but there is plenty else.

Then to Germany: An old friend I hadn’t seen in a long time, since about five golden weeks in my youth. A long, long time ago: the last time I was there, there were two Germanies and two Berlins and a Wall and the Stassi and Trabbis and a firm living memory of the cataclysm only 40 years earlier.German Flag

Berlin was the focus this time, where I joined my brother Jay for the visit. We’d been kicking around the idea of traveling there together for a while, and ultimately didn’t want to wait till either of us got any older. He had not made it to Berlin in ’72.

A major side trip from Berlin was to Prague. Not quite as old a friend, but old enough.Czech Flag

Yuriko and I visited in ’94, but it was new territory for Jay, another slice of the former Astro-Hungarian Empire to go with his early ’70s visit to Vienna.

Actually, when you visit a place you haven’t seen in 40 or 30 years, it’s like you’ve never been there. I had that sensation in both Berlin and Prague. The old memories are packed away, only loosely connected to their setting any more, which has changed partly beyond recognition anyway.

Now I’m back. Unlike Phileas Fogg, I didn’t return a day earlier than I thought I did (we have a stronger awareness of the International Date Line). But I did manage to miss the no one-likes-it spring transition to daylight savings time, just another little bonus of the trip.

The Lüneburg McDonald’s

It’s a minor travel habit of mine to visit a McDonald’s in each country I visit, if there is one. Not as a source of comfort food, particularly, though I knew other gaijin in Japan who treated it that way.

Instead I’m curious to scope out any differences, such as the bouncers at the Moscow location, the availability of alcohol in various European locations (including Portugal), the occasional item that far exceeds anything at a USA McDonald’s – the wonderful McTeriyaki in Japan – or even tiny distinguishing details in something otherwise like a domestic restaurant. The one I visited in Australia might as well have been in the Midwest, except for the sign that said that 100% Australian beef was used, with notes to that effect on the boxes and wrappers.

The first non-American McDonald’s I visited must have been in Lüneburg, West Germany in 1983. I don’t think we went to one in the UK, though we did eat at a Wimpy’s, nor in the Netherlands, before our arrival in Lüneburg. But I know I did once we got there. The first visit wasn’t planned.

June 12, 1983

I discovered today that Frau Horsch probably isn’t going to supply us borders with toilet paper. An unpleasant discovery, this. At 9:45 in the evening I went out seeking that paper by which we all live and found it – where? – the public WC was closed, locked! Argh. McDonald’s was open, and I accessed its facilities for the price of a soda to go.

I went back a time or two for a fuller meal, though it couldn’t really compare with the chicken shack where you could get roast halb hähnchen mit pommes frites nor a number of other spots in Lüneburg.

I checked my envelope of paper debris from that trip, and remarkably found this (which was a little larger that the scanner bed). Or maybe not so remarkable, considering my idea of an interesting souvenir.German McDonald's place mat 1983

Through the marvel of Google Maps, I’ve determined that that location – which I think was near the Rathaus and the Marktplatz – doesn’t seem to be there any more. These days, you need to visit the main bahnhof or a 24-hour location north of the town center near (I’m not making this up) Hamburger Straße. Of course, that isn’t so odd when you realize that the road is named for the city of Hamburg, which isn’t far away.

Spring Break Bits

It might not feel like spring out there, but no matter. Time for spring break. Back to posting around April 18.

Not long ago, an entire movie on YouTube called First Spaceship on Venus came to my attention, and I decided to watch a few minutes to see how bad it might be. Soon I realized, this isn’t that bad. For what was clearly a pre-manned spaceflight depiction of spaceflight, not bad at all. I didn’t have time to finish it, but I will at some point.

I’d never heard of it. But I have heard of Stanisław Lem. I read His Master’s Voice years ago – nearly 40 years, so I don’t remember much – and saw the 1972 movie version of Solaris, ditto, though I’ve read it’s rather different from his novel. Turns out First Spaceship on Venus is the American title of Silent Star (Der Schweigende Stern), an East German-Polish production from 1960. Lem wrote the source book, The Astronauts, a few years earlier. The American version is dubbed into English and, I understand, cut in length.

Also, if you want, you can listen to the original soundtrack of Der Schweigende Stern. YouTube’s quite the place.

More idle curiosity for the day: checking ticket prices for Billy Joel and Stevie Nicks, who are appearing the same night at Soldier Field in June. The closest ticket for sale is pretty close indeed: front section, third row. For resale, actually. There are a scattering of resale tickets available in that section, with those on the third row listed for $3,791 + fees. Oddly enough, fourth row seats list for $2,794 + fees. At least for now. So one row ahead, where you can catch a slightly better glimpse of Mr. Joel’s shiny pate, is worth about a grand more?

I expect that represents dynamic pricing of some kind, facilitated by soulless algorithms in the service of maximized shareholder value, and varies from moment to moment. But I was never one for front row seats anyway, or even third or fourth. Checking further, I found that you can bring your opera glasses and sit way back for $179. As it happens, I’ve seen both of those entertainers; separately, in 1979 and 1980. I don’t remember what I paid. A handy inflation calculator tells me that $179 now is the equivalent of $47 back then. I’m positive I didn’t pay that much, total, for both tickets.

Visiting Queen of All Saints Basilica in Chicago last month, I took an image of carved text that puzzled me a bit, but then I forgot to look it up.

“Ecumenical Year?” I remembered to look into that more recently, and realized that it must refer to the first year of Vatican II, which was indeed 1962. Formally in English, the meeting was the Second Ecumenical Council of the Vatican.

Naturally, when one hears of Vatican II, it’s time to listen to “The Vatican Rag.”

The council might have been 60 years ago, but that song never gets old.

A Different Christkindlmarket, But Pretty Similar

Above freezing temps on Friday encouraged us to pay a visit to the Aurora Christkindlmaket, my second such market this year, which is vastly more than most years’ total of zero.

Lights. Artisans. Dark-wood booths evoking Germany. Walking around food. Hot drinks. High prices. Pretty much everything you’d see and experience at the market at Daley Plaza, except you’re in RiverEdge Park along the Fox River.

Adjacent to Hollywood Casino on the Fox is an enormous complex of parking lots, from which a pedestrian bridge crosses the river, opened only a little more than two years ago. A walk across takes you to RiverEdge.Aurora Kriskindlmarket Aurora Kriskindlmarket

Ornaments of the giants mark the way to the market.Aurora Kriskindlmarket

Merchants.Aurora Kriskindlmarket Aurora Kriskindlmarket Aurora Kriskindlmarket

Merchandise.

Swedish joy juice to help get through those near-Arctic Circle wintertime blues?Aurora Kriskindlmarket

Called glögg, but the fine print says non-alcoholic, so I’m not sure that counts. The glögg I got at Ikea some years ago had some kick to it. I didn’t check these bottles too closely, so I’m not even sure it’s Swedish, though a Chicago-area company called Lars Own offers imported goods from Scandinavia – yet its web site is a little vague on its Grandpa Lundquist brand glögg.

Wasn’t Grandpa Lundquist a supporting character on Phyllis? The hard-of-hearing hoot-and-a-half curmudgeon played by a wizened character actor whose career was pretty much simultaneous with talkies? No, I made that up, AI-style.

I didn’t buy any 0.0 glögg anyway. I did buy some praline-filled Ritter Sport, a variety I hadn’t sampled before. It’s good. Of course it is. Yuriko acquired a few ornaments – a few per year, that’s how a mass of Christmas decorations grows. We ate pretzels from a Milwaukee-based bakery, and Ann got hot chocolate in a 0.2-liter mug with scenes of the downtown Christkindlmarket painted on it. Designed in Germany, Made in China, it says.

The similarities between the downtown and Aurora markets are no accident. It’s a seasonally oriented cottage industry.

“The Christkindlmarket Chicago was first conceptualized in 1995 when the German American Chamber of Commerce of the Midwest Inc. (GACC Midwest) was seeking alternative ways to promote bilateral trade between the USA and Germany,” the event web site explains. “Companies from Germany and the Chicago area [participated] in the first Christkindlmarket Chicago in 1996. The market was an instant success and continues to flourish through the work of GACC Midwest’s subsidiary, German American Events LLC.”

Not everything – in fact not a lot of it – is German, or even European. You might call it an international market with North European holiday trappings. It works.

In summer, RiverEdge Park is the setting for concerts and plays. The John C. Dunham Pavilion was familiar, though the last time I was there, temps were high and the entertainment was free Shakespeare.Aurora Kriskindlmarket

The stage control tower, decked out for this time of the year.Aurora Kriskindlmarket

Heard as we were leaving, passing by two people entering:

“So that’s what it’s called? All this time I thought it was the Kris Kringle Market.” (laughs)

Chicago Christkindlmarket ’23

I made a point of watching the tribute to Norman Lear that was simulcast – now that’s a aging concept – on several networks this evening, at 8 Eastern/7 Central. Mostly, I was curious to see what they would do. Turned out to be about 15 seconds of a picture of him (maybe taken in the late 20th century), his name and birth and death year, indicating quite a lifespan. That was it. I wonder how many people who saw the spot knew who he was. Network audiences skew old, but even that demographic is more likely to remember his shows than him.

But he was well enough known to inspire a torrent of virtual print, so I won’t add to it, except to say too bad Hot L Baltimore didn’t last, while Good Times did. Nobody’s perfect. RIP, Mr. Lear.

Extremely crowded Chicago Christkindlmarkets of years past – mob city, as my mother used to say, not referring to gangsters – must have pushed any notion of visiting it on Monday right out of my head. But when I ambled over to the Thompson Center, I saw the market. Might as well drop in, see if the crowd was thinner. It was. A more manageable Monday in mob city. Just enough to be lively.

First, pass by the eternal flame on Daley Plaza. Dedicated since 1972 to all U.S. veterans of any kind.Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023

Still there. Well, it is eternal. That’s not meant in a literal sense, of course, on past the heat death of the Universe, but as long as humanly possible. The upshot for the flame is that people will maintain it until its honorees have disappeared from common memory. I hope that’s some centuries at least, but who knows.

As I said, lively. It isn’t really crowded unless it’s tricky to navigate through people.Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023

The stalls are more crowded.Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023 Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023 Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023

Everything in that lower pic is eccentric shapes of chocolate, and pretty much the only place I was tempted to buy anything. The economic model at the market is the same as I described a few years ago: “priced in euros at a lousy exchange rate, with an extra 50 percent tacked on for good measure.”

Paper stars.Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023

Locally themed ornaments, and pickles. Who doesn’t like Christmas pickles?Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023 Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023

Eats.Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023

And Paul.Chicago Christkinlmarket 2023

His sign says, “Hi, everyone! I am Paul, the Hamburg sailor! Take a picture with me!’

Paul, huh? Are the Hamburgers having a spot of fun with that? St. Pauli is a red light district in Hamburg, after all, and while Paul here might look clean-cut, on leave I bet he’s out for beir and bumsen. Or maybe he’s a more modern sailor, and while visiting Chicago slips off to North Halsted Street sometimes.

Marathon to Sault Ste. Marie by Way of Wawa

I was pumping gas not long ago, and spotted what I took to be shiny penny on the pavement near the pump. A closer look told me it wasn’t a U.S. cent, but I didn’t ID it until I’d picked it up and eyed it when I got back in the car. Ten won, it turned out to be.

It’s the smallest currently circulating South Korean coin, both physically and in value. In theory, 10 won is worth 0.75 U.S. cents. A whopping seven and a half mills. The structure depicted is the Dabotap pagoda, a southeast-coast relic of the ancient kingdom of Silla, which lorded over most of the peninsula more than 1,000 years ago.

Back-and-forth between Korea and the U.S., and more specifically northwest suburban Chicago, is no unusual thing in our time, but still I was mildly surprised to find it — like I felt finding a New Zealand 20-cent piece. Made my day.

On the morning of August 3, I left Marathon, but not before a look at the one-room Marathon Museum, and a talk with a lanky young man who said he’d been hired just three weeks earlier to run the place, his first job out of college. He had grown up in the area, gone away for school, and only now was beginning to appreciate the history of the place, he said, as he read more and more.Marathon, Ontario

Pretty refreshing, finding someone that young with an interest in history. That is an old man thing to say, of course, but anyway I was glad to hear a bit about the town, such as its origin as a prospective wood pulp mill whose development accelerated in the early 1940s when Canadian raw material extraction was deemed important to the Allied war effort. A postwar boom made Marathon into a genuine town; a wood pulp mill town that prospered until the crushing blow of the mill closing in 2009.

A public tank in Marathon.Marathon, Ontario

Here’s a story of early Marathon: POW logging camps were built in the area after Canada entered the war in 1939, and on April 18, 1941, 28 German prisoners made a break for it, and many more attempted it, in a tunneling scheme worthy of The Great Escape or rather the real incident of the 1944 escape from Stalag Luft III. The goal of the prisoners at Camp X, Angler was to cross into the still-neutral United States. None made it. This article, which is serious need of an editor, nevertheless tells the tale of the long-abandoned camp not far off the modern road.

“Travellers on the Trans-Canada highway would not notice the dirt track leading south from the highway some four kilometres west of Marathon, Ontario,” the site says. “There is no sign to indicate where it leads, and no historical marker to record what happened along that track.”

This part of the Trans-Canada has more visible abandoned sites. Making a go of a business must be tough up there.Marathon, Ontario Marathon, Ontario

White River, Ontario has a claim on the origin of Winne-the-Pooh.White River, Ontario White River, Ontario

All well and good, but why do we see the Disney iteration and not one based on the illustrations by E. H. Shepard? Do you think Winnie wore a jacket at the London Zoo? No, she did not.

Wawa has more than its steel goose statue. There’s a pleasant lakeside path, for example.White River, Ontario White River, Ontario

On the relatively small Wawa Lake, not Superior. Just an everyday relic of the last ice age.

St. Mary Margaret Cemetery in the town (closed 1954) includes the remains of old-time Wawa-area miners. Most unmarked.Wawa, Ontario Wawa, Ontario Wawa, Ontario

I sought out lunch at Philly Wawa Hoagie. A few days earlier, I’d heard the owner interviewed on a CBC radio show. Why not, I figured. I ordered the shawarma poutine.Wawa, Ontario

How Canadian is that, eh? It was good and I barely needed to eat dinner.

Wawa features a bit more public art than the goose. Including figures all labeled “Gitchee Goomee” just on the other side of the visitor center from the goose.Wawa, Ontario Wawa, Ontario Wawa, Ontario

A few miles out of Wawa, down a dirt road, is Magpie Scenic High Falls.near Wawa, Ontario

Not that high, unless you’re about to tumble over the edge. It’s the overflow spill weir of the Harris Hydroelectric Generating Station, which has a capacity of 13MW. Signs at the sight are emphatic about not climbing the thing, since spillway volume is notoriously fickle. (I’m paraphrasing.)

Nice falls, but the glory was getting there and back.near Wawa, Ontario near Wawa, Ontario near Wawa, Ontario

My goal for the day was Sault. Ste. Marie, Canadian side, so I pressed on. More abandoned Ontario.near Wawa, Ontario near Wawa, Ontario

A plaque about the road itself.

From the plaque, it was only an easy walk to Chippewa Falls, so I went.Chippewa Falls, Ontario Chippewa Falls, Ontario Chippewa Falls, Ontario

Closer to Sault Ste. Marie, near the entrance of Pancake Bay Provincial Park, is a small complex of tourist shops on the Trans-Canada. I took a good look around, and confirmed that stores in this part of Canada offer a woefully small number of postcards. Too bad, there’s a lot of scenic raw material for postcards in this part of Canada.

Tuesday Humor

Up to balmy double-digit Fahrenheit numbers this afternoon, barely, as a brilliant sun reminded me that in January a sunny day usually means it’s cold as Swedish hell.

I didn’t know Dave Barry was still doing his annual humor piece, or even that he was still alive, but so he is on both counts. Found that out today.

In case the Washington Post is behind a paywall, here’s an essential nugget from Barry:

At this point these are the known facts about the pandemic in America:

Many Americans have been vaccinated but continue to act as though they have not.

Many other Americans have not been vaccinated but act as though they have.

Next, a joke that’s evidently begin kicking around a while. I spotted it this morning. I’ve put it, as they used to say in school, in my own words.

Just before he was appointed chancellor, Hitler — always with an interest in the occult — visited a fortune teller and asked her a number of questions, including what day he would die.

The fortune teller told him that he would die on a Jewish holiday.

“How do you know that?” an outraged Hitler demanded.

“Any day you die will be a Jewish holiday.”

1950s MPCs

Back again on February 16. I do not, in fact, have Presidents’ Day-Washington’s Birthday off, but never mind. I will still be honoring the immortal deeds of William Henry Harrison, Millard Fillmore, Rutherford B. Hayes, et al.

I have an example of U.S. Army scrip, picked up by my parents in Germany in the mid-50s but obviously never spent. At some point, I annexed it to my collection of cheapo banknotes.

Scrip, maybe, but officially Military Payment Certificates, or to (of course) use their initialism, MPCs. Also roughly the size of Monopoly money.
MPCs lasted from from 1946 until 1973. Postwar occupation to the near-end in Vietnam, in other words. Paying dollars to soldiers stationed in the likes of postwar Germany or Korea or Vietnam did wonky things to those local economies, the thinking went. Maybe so. I suspect locals found a way to trade in MPCs as well, though it must have been harder.

Thirteen series were released, with a total of 94 different notes. I’ve got a Series 521 5-cent note, including the standard admonition: For use only in United States military establishments — by United States authorized personnel in accordance with applicable rules and regulations.

I guess that meant my mother could use them at the PX.

“Series 521 MPCs were used in 19 different countries between May 25th, 1954 and May 27th, 1958,” says Antique Money. “Almost 317 million dollars worth of currency was issued across all seven denominations during that time period. For that reason, most 521 notes are very common.”

Figures. It wouldn’t be like me to end up with the Inverted Jenny of MPCs, if such a thing exists.
About 27.2 million 5-cent notes of this series were manufactured. Value in perfect condition, according to Antique Money, which my note is not, $15.

Sink the Bismarck!

I was surprised recently to find Sink the Bismarck! on YouTube, gratis, no commercials even. Did the copyright lapse? So over the last few days I’ve been watching it as time allows. I think I rented it on VHS in Japan nearly 30 years ago, but I’m not sure; might have seen it later.

Considering that the ships are obviously models, this is a movie that’s improved — to modern eyes, used to better effects — by being on a small screen. Much of the story involves talking, and occasionally the exposition pops through (especially at the beginning), but on the whole it’s fast-moving and, in its way, suspenseful. The main actors all do well, especially the leads.

Also, it’s reasonably accurate in terms of its history, though since the movie came out in 1960, it wasn’t up to speed on the fact that British intelligence had cracked German codes, or that the men on the Bismarck scuttled her at the very end. No matter, it’s been a good diversion from the pace of work and the woes of the nation.