Hi. Carter has given me the honor of being guest writer number three, and now, as i sit in front of the computer, i second guess my approach to my participation in this project. you see, i have been living in southern germany for the last year—stuttgart to be exact, about two hours west of munich—and i figured i could expound upon being a resident in a foreign country, perhaps relating odd and random cultural perks, strange things people do, stereotypes and so on and so on. but the truth of the matter is that nothing, at least here in europe, germany, stuttgart, has truly suprised me. i mean sure, there are times more often than not that i say under my breath germany this and germans that, strange, annoying….. but isn’t it like this everywhere?
stuttgart is a nice place. relatively quiet with a pedestrianized center that is really nothing more than a mile long outdoor mall. as a friend described it to me before i came, stuttgart’s culture is an imported one. this is an apt description, especially in regards to the throngs of teenagers who swarm the main station, drinking big bottles of beer and cheap bottles of fruity prosecco (otherwise know as vino frizzante—carbonated wine) in public. friday and saturday nights can be scary, and the place—the floor of the main train station—is a wreck. broken bottles, cigarette butts, drunken masses of kids chain smoking in a flourescent smoke-filled
train station. go figure. the 80’s have never been represented so well, or so inappropiately. i mean these kids are dressed to the hilt, head to toe ala new romantic (think
the romantics, duran duran,miami vice and big hair mixed with pat benetar and lots of white slip-ons, white blazers and punk stripes) (i call it culture off the shelf--thank you H+M). everybody looks as though they are in a band, ready for a photo shoot, but they are actually waiting for the last train of the night (12:30am). i avoid the station at this hour.but stuttgart is also very suburban with so much green space. i read somewhere that it is the greenest city in europe—something like 40% of the city’s footprint is either park, forest or field.
but i didn’t want to write about stuttgart, as this would take many days to be fair. i had a one year contract here, and it is ending in about two weeks, so i am on my way out. find out more about stuttgart on wikipedia if you’re interested.
rather, i would like to shift the attention to my recent trip to greece. my girlfriend nicole,
whom i met in new haven ct, comes from athens, and her parents live there now. (she returns to athens every summer for a month or so.) well, after 3.5 years together, the time had come for me to meet her parents. (everybody, and i mean everybody—germans included—ask me once i tell them where i am going and whom i am meeting, ‘…have you seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding?’ no. i have not seen the movie, but i think i have a pretty good idea of what it is about.)anyhow, after spending two days in athens meeting the parents, who are most generous and kind, climbing the acropolis and wandering the dense and chaotic streets of this amazing place, nicole and i took a 9 hour ferry ride to the island of crete. we stayed on the south side of the island near a town called ierapetra. it was beautiful, hot and windy. the sea was so warm and of shades turquoise green and light blue that dissolved into a deep cool blue, yet so clear. i
couldn’t help but think of carter’s time in st. 
barth with the amazing beaches and water. but crete is no tropical paradise. it is a dry, desert-like climate punctuated with relatively sparse outcroppings of trees. as you drive away from the coast into the mountains, you enter fertile areas that seem to be planted only with olive trees. (while on top of the acropolis, we overheard a tour guide tell her listeners that there are over 8 billion olive trees in greece. there are 6.7 billion people on the planet.)it’s strange to be in europe, to go somewhere like athens or to an ancient island in the mediterranean. i have this need or longing to sense the age and history in such places, as though i would feel the actuality of past times by simply being at a certain location, amongst the detritus and artifact. unfortunately this never works out. the patina of time is just that—a
layering of the now, the new upon the entropy of the past. ruins give a sense of grandeur, of humanity’s assertiveness, but ultimately their true nature is outside my experience of them. of course i still appreciate these places, but i am left with a sense of longing, as if i there is a hidden answer i will never find.so instead we go to the beach.
the beaches on crete are not of sand, but rather small colorful rocks that look nice when they are wet, and drab when they are dry. they are also scorching hot. we spend entire days under our colorful umbrella collecting and organizing various rock collections and reading, and many
hours are spent with mask and snorkel in search of lost gold coins at the bottom of the ocean.For some reason, and i do not know why, i have a habit of taking two books—the book i am currently reading (which is now yukio mishima’s sea of fertility tetralogy written between 1964-1970) and some random trashy novel, this time borrowed without permission. and inevitably i will start and finish the trashy novel and not read a single page of the great book i am involved in. this was indeed the case on crete. the book this time was the da vinci code written by dan brown. heralded by the new york times as ‘…pure blockbuster material…’ this tome is no foucalt’s pendulum treatise and play on the tale of the knights templar and the holy grail, but it is
chock-filled with the facts and symbology surrounding the supposed grand christian deception that christ was immortal, that he was indeed actually married and soon to have child. real cult-like stuff. even the pentagram takes on a friendly tone. da vinci himself was a keeper of the secret, and his paintings the last supper and the mona lisa …. blah blah blah. i guess i just gave away the book, but really, what is there to give away and who doesn’t know it already? nicole (who is now stuck with the book against her will) thinks the genius of it, of the author lies in the presentation of the erudite research in such a way as to make a shitload of money. you’ll have to decide wether you will invest in it in order to make your own judgement, if you haven’t already read it. although i was annoyed the entire time i was reading it, i couldn’t put it down. history, religion and conspiracy theories can be quite profitable i guess.But enough about this. crete is an amazing place. there are these concrete structures
everywhere, ready to be filled in, waiting for something to happen, like some kind of reverse ruins. many were complete and occupied on the ground floor, while the second floor remains in this state of reverse ruin. we assume the owners will be able to afford the completion at a later date, but theses things are everywhere. someone told me about a tax break in the canary islands for people who are living in buildings that are still under construction. hmmmm.After 7 days in crete, it is hard to remember what exactly we did there. we truly lost sense of time.
Back in stuttgart, i sit at my desk in front of this computer, less than two weeks away from my departure date. it’s difficult to take anything seriously here. there is so much to do and plan as we make our move to san francisco. but first we must stop over in nyc, collect our stored possessions—our own artifacts and detritus—and tie up loose ends. i am looking forward to seeing carter and other friends while there.
After a year in stuttgart i am still an outsider here. my grasp of the language seems to have
diminished in the last 6 weeks, and i find myself no longer going out of my way to meet people, or having the patience to carry on conversations. time is winding down and it is difficult to imagine any sense of closure other than getting off the plane at jfk.
