I know I have been remiss in keeping this up-to-date. Here's the scoop: we lost in the bronze medal game today, to Seattle. The positive is that we lost to the gold medal team yesterday by only 3 points. No other team had come closer than 12. Guess we used all our energy then.
As far as upkeep of the blog, perhaps I shoul have thought better of keeping a blog while I am playing 7 basketball games in the course of five days. I usually just come back to the hotel and pass out on the bed until the next morning...
I promise I will do more and keep everyone informed, but it will be after the fact. I have been keeping notes, and have slews of pictures to share. Cologne is a beautiful city!
Friday, August 6, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Earlier posts mentioned the eeriness of coincidences, and they never seem to be far away. Saturday morning I took the U (public trans) to Registration again, intending to meet Brad there later in the day so he could register. I was also aware that the Rainbow Run, held every Gay Games to commemorate those in the community who have died of AIDS (and recently added: breast cancer), was set to begin, although I thought I had missed the start. As I got to Koelnmesse, I heard them still reading the names prior to the run. Just as I reached the ceremony I heard 'Tim Turley.' I lost it immediately. Tim was a good friend of mine in Denver, and actually lived with Jeff and me for a time. I hadn't thought about him in several years, and hearing his name was a sudden jolt. We (and me in particular) have so much to be thankful for, waking up each morning. Only those who lived through those terrifying days when your friends and acquaintances were dying weekly, sometimes daily, know the emotions something like this can evoke. I'm constantly taken aback when I talk to people who don't know anyone who is living with HIV, let alone someone who died, or witnessed the destruction the disease causes. After a good sob around the corner, I returned to the Run starting point and snapped this shot of Matthew Mitcham, the Beijing Olympic gold medal diver (openly gay), who led the race.
The Australian and New Zealand team had their own shuttle van, which I thought was brilliant. The first time I have seen that at the Games.
This is a shot of Wiener Platz, where my hotel is located. They often have a market in the middle of the square.
Friday, Part 4
The Dom at night is a spectacular sight. The lighting is perfect and it is so majestic. Too bad the Catholic Church owns it...
After finding no one else at registration I knew, I headed across the river to wander. As I have learned from Jeff, I viewed the city as a grid and started walking, top left to bottom right, or some such. Atlstadt (Old Town) is very beautiful, full of restaturants and biergartens. The platz in front of the Dom is also quite popular. Wander, wander, wander, wander. Ok, how can I feel so alone in a city with 10,000 gay people visiting? Finding my hotel was a bargain, but it would be nice to talk to someone, see a familiar face. After 4 hours it's enough and I decide to head back to the hotel. My arthritis is throbbing in my toes, and I'm sure my visage reflects that. I'm trying hard to not let my mind wander to things I should be doing, things I could be doing, directions home, etc., and being in the moment. I'm constantly reminding myself to lift my eyes up from the sidewalk, although the cobblestone is beautiful.
'Steve?'
I look up. It's Brad! Yay! (For those who don't know, Brad is a very good friend, and the other Boston player on my team.) He introduces me to Jurgen, one of his hosts. The remainder of the evening is spent at Jurgen and Gunter's flat (can you come up with 2 more Germanic names?), sharing an ayurvedic meal with them, their friends Mattias and Christian, and another Gay Games athlete they are hosting, Andre, from Slovenia.
It's been a long and delightful day, and when my head hits the pillow about 1 a.m. it doesn't take long to fall asleep with a smile on my face.
Friday part 3
Once again let me apologize for the screwy layout of this blog. I can't seem to get the pics in between the words, and just don't have the patience to learn. I know I did it on the cross-country trip, but that was with Deb's help.
The picture of all the bubbles is actually the Lego store in town. This fascinated me. Just like in a penny candy store, you get a container, and then fill it with whatever color Legos you want. Initially, I thought they were jelly beans. Broke a tooth finding out.
Second pic is the Rhein River, with the lineup of sightseeing boats along the shoreline. These boats are behemoths and take hourly cruises up and down the city. Some have dinner, some entertainment...
The Cologne Cathedral, referred to as the Dom, is spectcular and in the centerpiece of downtown. The stairs facing the train station are always loaded with people.
The picture of all the bubbles is actually the Lego store in town. This fascinated me. Just like in a penny candy store, you get a container, and then fill it with whatever color Legos you want. Initially, I thought they were jelly beans. Broke a tooth finding out.
Second pic is the Rhein River, with the lineup of sightseeing boats along the shoreline. These boats are behemoths and take hourly cruises up and down the city. Some have dinner, some entertainment...
The Cologne Cathedral, referred to as the Dom, is spectcular and in the centerpiece of downtown. The stairs facing the train station are always loaded with people.
Why does Europe have to be so far ahead of the US in practical things? All their staircases have runners going down (or up, I suppose) them, facilitating bicycles. No, you don't RIDE down them; it just makes it easier to navigate.
Friday part 2
There's an intresting custom on the bridge crossing the Rhein. Thousands of padlocks are attached to the fencing, all with names of couples. Some are beautifully engraved. Don't know anything more about it, but it's fascinating to behold.Public sculpture over here is also quite entertaining. This iron man was on the same bridge, appearing ready to tumble into the river. You need to keep your eyes open, because they aren't always in places you would expect to see them. It's fun!
The view of northern Cologne from the main bridge.To natives, these gorgeous building are commonplace, but to me they are so unique and beautiful, and are everywhere..
Friday, July 30
For those who know German, don't get on my case for omitting the correct umlauts. Get uber it.
Ich bin sehr mude. That means OMG I am so tired. I slept until 10:30 a.m., though it was fitful, nothing more than a couple hours at a time. My hotel room is right on the street and it seems that people (and ambulances) are going by all the time. It's a nice overcast day, though, a sprinkle here and there, but no heavy rain. Since I'm a bit north of the downtown area, there's no one around here who seems to be in the city for the Games.
It's a couple kms to the Registration area, so I decide to hoof it. That's the most likely place to run into someone I know, and at least feel a part of things. Not ready to risk the sideroads, I meander down the main highway. Not much interesting to look at, very efficient buildings, etc. Since Koeln was largely destroyed during the war, most structures are very similary, stucco 4-8 story apartments, just varying in color scheme. The wonderful thing to observe, though, is the great public transportation system, used so heavily, along with all the bicyclists, pedestrians, and small vehicles. It's amazing that we Americans seem to think that we MUST have an SUV. I have yet to see a single one here. The biggest auto I've seen is a Jeep Wagoneer. One.
Koelnmesse, the Registration convention center has begun to pick up in activity. Rob Smitherman, a friend from Chicago, is the lone familiar face, and he's beginning to look harried trying to get everything in place for the Registration and the basketball players.
Ok, catch up time. I've spent the last 30 minutes trying to figure out how to add pictures to blog posts, but my intellect and attention span are getting in the way. So, giving up that idea, I'm posting relevant pictures in one post. Enjoy!
Top 3 pictures are where I went to Register for the Games. As you can see, LOTS of signage and people (that was sarcasm), I know I was there early, but, um... a little help would go a long way. If you look closely you can see the tiny poster on the wall of the building, pointing you into the dark alley. VERY reassuring.
Next picture is a... um... living space on the side of the road. I think that squatters can actually claim some unused land and build whatever makeshift quarters possible. Looking over the fence, there was a stage with a cutout of a wolf, among other detritus the resident must have found interesting in his garbage bin searches. The sign says keep out. Uh, YEAH. Like WAY OUT.
The final picture is the street that I hobbled and cobbled down with my luggage, only to be turned around due to the WWII bomb found in the neighborhood. What you see in the picture is a very small chunk of the distance I walked. Twice. In the rain. With no sleep. I know, I know, no sympathy; I'm just telling a story here.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Roadblock
Back in Mulheim at the hotel, resting a bit before heading off to Opening Ceremonies. Forgot to mention in the last post that the reason for the roadblock was the discovery of an active WWII bomb in that neighborhood. Five thousand people were evacuated.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Opening Ceremonies are today, which means I've been here for 2 days without posting or uploading pics. Lots to catch up! With my notoriously abysmal memory, you might not hear some of the most lurid details, but I trust I can remember enough to entertain...
Surprisingly, I was all packed and relatively ready to go when Jeff came home to take me to the airport on Wednesday afternoon. Although my flight wasn't until 7:15 p.m., Jeff had a late afternoon meeting, so I got to Logan about 3 p.m. Kein problem. (The Deutsch will be inserted here and there just for effect.) Elicited a fistbump from the ticket agent when my suitcase weighed in at 50.0 pounds. That was nice, but the comeuppance of that was my carryon briefcase was loaded with extras and was accompanied by a bright green Walgreens eco-bag filled with half our basketball team's uniforms. There are worse things than looking like a dorky first-time flyer, I guess. Richard Russo's 'Bridge of Sighs' kept me awake most of the time, though I did doze for a few minutes here and there. I wasn't aware that that would be the only sleep I would get in the next 30 hours.
I tried, really I did, to sleep on the flight, but just couldn't get comfortable. Imagine that, having a good 18" to work with for finding something akin to stretching. By the time dawn broke over the approaching horizon, I had given up. My neighbor in the seat next to me, now refreshed from her overnight sleep, was ever so lovely in conversation. We talked about the Cotswolds, Boston, books, travel, Oxford, and Harvard, among other topics.
SIDEBAR: Coincidences are by nature amazing. In my conversation with this lovely lady she began talking about Cornwall and how beautiful it was down there. (She doesn't live there, so I can't imagine what bent the conversation in that direction.) She began telling me about the Lost Gardens of Heligan, outside of Mevagissey, and their history of only recently being recovered after decades of neglect. The coincidence? The night before, I had joined Jeff in the TV room as he watched a National Geographic special about Cornwall. They had just finished a segment on some amazing gardens that had been restored, but he couldn't remember the name. He mentioned how much he would really like to go see them. So, out of all the people/things/events we could have been talking about, of all the people I could have been sitting next to, what is the chance that I would talk to someone who would give me that information?
Back at the ranch...
Flight was fine, landed in London, 3 hour layover, customs a breeze ('Passport? Ok.'), caught Lufthansa to Cologne, arriving about 10 minutes early early. Sat next to a woman who revealed that she was part of the Cleveland contingent. Uh-oh. The competition for the 2014 Games. Be wary. Eventually I revealed that I was part of the Boston delegation which had presented in Cologne. 'So, what do you think of all the huibbub Boston has raised?' Double uh-oh. 'Well, I was one of the people who was quoted in that article.' Silence. We made nice for the rest of the journey, talking about things which couldn't be argued. She did mention that she thought there were only 5 actual Cleveland athletes here and about 15 people from Synergy. We'll see whether that holds true later today...
Picked up luggage (why is mine always the LAST one unloaded?) and after a tedious half-hour at the ticket machine, finally guessed at what I needed, shoved in my Euros, grabbed the spat out ticket, and boarded the train.
When I disembarked at Messe Koeln, the sky was already ominous. But, I thought, looking at the map, the hotel in Mulheim shouldn't be that far a walk, and traveling with Jeff has taught me that the most memorable times are walking through the neighborhoods. Ooops. I forgot that usually didn't include 50 lb. suitcases, 20 lb. shoulder bags, bright green eco-bags, or rain. Ja. Es regent. But not until I had walked a mile away from the station, on an access road with no outlets. With no sleep. And no taxis. And no businesses, just industrial. Waited out the rain under a bridge, then started again. Another half-mile and I turned the corner, ahhhh, sweet victo- Jesus! A roadblock. Including the sidewalk. Nein. Nein. I must turn around. Gehen zuruck.
What could I do? Have you even thought about arguing with a German policeman? So, zuruck I traipse, laughing quietly to myself. Es regent again. Now, I'm just giddy with laughter. Bumpity, bumpity, bumpity goes the suitcase over the cobblestone sidewalk. Left hand. Right hand. Left hand. Wipe away regnet from eyes. Pass the hospital and for a brief moment contemplate falling onto the sidewalk as a car passes, just to see if an ambulance will be called to pick me up. Did I mention already that there seemed to be a siren-blaring convention of ambulances - sometimes 4 in a row - passing by constantly?
Arriving at the station again, I notice 2 Gay Games volunteers and realize that the Registration building is a mere 2 blocks away. Cool. I can accomplish that before going to the hotel. They point me down the stairs, then up the stairs (whatever happened to ramps in train stations?) and toward Koeln Messe, the large convention center that looked so close. In reality, I guess it was, but as I approached and saw no other people and no signs, I wondered if I was in the right place. Oh, look! There's a little poster taped to the side of that building. It's a GG poster with an arrow. I'll follow that... into an alley... under a building... another little taped poster... around a corner... across a parking lot... down an alley... under another building... and there was Registration!
Dropped my bags at the coatroom and signed my waiver. Went to get my picture taken for the ID badge. Yikes! No sleep for 30 hours, 5 miles in the rain, and no change of clothes can really make a guy look a bit, shall we say, street savvy? What-ev-uh. Was it my imagination, or did I see a lot of people smiling in a pathetic sort of way? What-ev-uh. Got my Welcome Pack ('vich kolor you like?' What? 'Zee vater bottle.' Surprise me. 'I gif you rod.' Fine. I'm too tired to smile in return, though I think I remember trying.
I return downstairs and take one lap around the registration area to search for any friendly, familiar faces. Rob Smitherman! Yay! He's a friend from Chicago who moved to Cologne to run the Basketball (all Nouns are capitalized in Germany) tourney for the Games. He is also in change of officials, registration, cancer research, oil spills, and the plight of indigenous penguins in Germany, I think. He's in great demand, so I don't have much time to enjoy his company, although he did manage to mention that I wasn't the only one who thought I sounded like a pissy queen in the Boston Spirit article about Boston's losing bid for GGIX. Great. Now I have to look over my shoulder the whole week. I stated my case, and reiterated that I wasn't terribly happy with either the original article or the ensuing viral response across the Internet. I also told him of my pledge of celibacy with the media from now on.
At last, he points me toward the U (metro) and tells me which train and which direction to go. As a final thought, he also mentions that the area I will be staying in can delicately be described as 'working class.' But then, that's where he lives, and he's still alive.
Mercifully, the Kaiser Hotel is located directly across from the Wiener Platz stop. (No vulgar comments about the name of the stop, please.) It's quaint, but adequate. At this point, it could be a futon in a median strip and it would look good. I drop off my bags after searching for some lighting in the room, and head out for food. I may be tired, but ich habe eine grosse hunger. Refusing the easy McDonald's stop (for shame!) I find a markt and pick a small variety of unknown foods, return to the room, eat, and pass out on the bed.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
There's no clock in the room, I have no watch, and my phone hasn't yet updated to local time. It's light out, but is it today or tomorrow? Maybe it's even yesterday. Ring! Oh, the phone. It's Jeff.
'Are you THERE? Safe? What's up?' Argh. What a shithead I am. I think I sent him an email, but it might have arrived at his work after he left. Gave him a brief synopsis of my day, receiving little sympathy, and rightly so. I tried to get him to accompany me, but his love of sports (sarcasm) combined with his workload just couldn't convince him. I miss him already.
Surprisingly, I was all packed and relatively ready to go when Jeff came home to take me to the airport on Wednesday afternoon. Although my flight wasn't until 7:15 p.m., Jeff had a late afternoon meeting, so I got to Logan about 3 p.m. Kein problem. (The Deutsch will be inserted here and there just for effect.) Elicited a fistbump from the ticket agent when my suitcase weighed in at 50.0 pounds. That was nice, but the comeuppance of that was my carryon briefcase was loaded with extras and was accompanied by a bright green Walgreens eco-bag filled with half our basketball team's uniforms. There are worse things than looking like a dorky first-time flyer, I guess. Richard Russo's 'Bridge of Sighs' kept me awake most of the time, though I did doze for a few minutes here and there. I wasn't aware that that would be the only sleep I would get in the next 30 hours.
I tried, really I did, to sleep on the flight, but just couldn't get comfortable. Imagine that, having a good 18" to work with for finding something akin to stretching. By the time dawn broke over the approaching horizon, I had given up. My neighbor in the seat next to me, now refreshed from her overnight sleep, was ever so lovely in conversation. We talked about the Cotswolds, Boston, books, travel, Oxford, and Harvard, among other topics.
SIDEBAR: Coincidences are by nature amazing. In my conversation with this lovely lady she began talking about Cornwall and how beautiful it was down there. (She doesn't live there, so I can't imagine what bent the conversation in that direction.) She began telling me about the Lost Gardens of Heligan, outside of Mevagissey, and their history of only recently being recovered after decades of neglect. The coincidence? The night before, I had joined Jeff in the TV room as he watched a National Geographic special about Cornwall. They had just finished a segment on some amazing gardens that had been restored, but he couldn't remember the name. He mentioned how much he would really like to go see them. So, out of all the people/things/events we could have been talking about, of all the people I could have been sitting next to, what is the chance that I would talk to someone who would give me that information?
Back at the ranch...
Flight was fine, landed in London, 3 hour layover, customs a breeze ('Passport? Ok.'), caught Lufthansa to Cologne, arriving about 10 minutes early early. Sat next to a woman who revealed that she was part of the Cleveland contingent. Uh-oh. The competition for the 2014 Games. Be wary. Eventually I revealed that I was part of the Boston delegation which had presented in Cologne. 'So, what do you think of all the huibbub Boston has raised?' Double uh-oh. 'Well, I was one of the people who was quoted in that article.' Silence. We made nice for the rest of the journey, talking about things which couldn't be argued. She did mention that she thought there were only 5 actual Cleveland athletes here and about 15 people from Synergy. We'll see whether that holds true later today...
Picked up luggage (why is mine always the LAST one unloaded?) and after a tedious half-hour at the ticket machine, finally guessed at what I needed, shoved in my Euros, grabbed the spat out ticket, and boarded the train.
When I disembarked at Messe Koeln, the sky was already ominous. But, I thought, looking at the map, the hotel in Mulheim shouldn't be that far a walk, and traveling with Jeff has taught me that the most memorable times are walking through the neighborhoods. Ooops. I forgot that usually didn't include 50 lb. suitcases, 20 lb. shoulder bags, bright green eco-bags, or rain. Ja. Es regent. But not until I had walked a mile away from the station, on an access road with no outlets. With no sleep. And no taxis. And no businesses, just industrial. Waited out the rain under a bridge, then started again. Another half-mile and I turned the corner, ahhhh, sweet victo- Jesus! A roadblock. Including the sidewalk. Nein. Nein. I must turn around. Gehen zuruck.
What could I do? Have you even thought about arguing with a German policeman? So, zuruck I traipse, laughing quietly to myself. Es regent again. Now, I'm just giddy with laughter. Bumpity, bumpity, bumpity goes the suitcase over the cobblestone sidewalk. Left hand. Right hand. Left hand. Wipe away regnet from eyes. Pass the hospital and for a brief moment contemplate falling onto the sidewalk as a car passes, just to see if an ambulance will be called to pick me up. Did I mention already that there seemed to be a siren-blaring convention of ambulances - sometimes 4 in a row - passing by constantly?
Arriving at the station again, I notice 2 Gay Games volunteers and realize that the Registration building is a mere 2 blocks away. Cool. I can accomplish that before going to the hotel. They point me down the stairs, then up the stairs (whatever happened to ramps in train stations?) and toward Koeln Messe, the large convention center that looked so close. In reality, I guess it was, but as I approached and saw no other people and no signs, I wondered if I was in the right place. Oh, look! There's a little poster taped to the side of that building. It's a GG poster with an arrow. I'll follow that... into an alley... under a building... another little taped poster... around a corner... across a parking lot... down an alley... under another building... and there was Registration!
Dropped my bags at the coatroom and signed my waiver. Went to get my picture taken for the ID badge. Yikes! No sleep for 30 hours, 5 miles in the rain, and no change of clothes can really make a guy look a bit, shall we say, street savvy? What-ev-uh. Was it my imagination, or did I see a lot of people smiling in a pathetic sort of way? What-ev-uh. Got my Welcome Pack ('vich kolor you like?' What? 'Zee vater bottle.' Surprise me. 'I gif you rod.' Fine. I'm too tired to smile in return, though I think I remember trying.
I return downstairs and take one lap around the registration area to search for any friendly, familiar faces. Rob Smitherman! Yay! He's a friend from Chicago who moved to Cologne to run the Basketball (all Nouns are capitalized in Germany) tourney for the Games. He is also in change of officials, registration, cancer research, oil spills, and the plight of indigenous penguins in Germany, I think. He's in great demand, so I don't have much time to enjoy his company, although he did manage to mention that I wasn't the only one who thought I sounded like a pissy queen in the Boston Spirit article about Boston's losing bid for GGIX. Great. Now I have to look over my shoulder the whole week. I stated my case, and reiterated that I wasn't terribly happy with either the original article or the ensuing viral response across the Internet. I also told him of my pledge of celibacy with the media from now on.
At last, he points me toward the U (metro) and tells me which train and which direction to go. As a final thought, he also mentions that the area I will be staying in can delicately be described as 'working class.' But then, that's where he lives, and he's still alive.
Mercifully, the Kaiser Hotel is located directly across from the Wiener Platz stop. (No vulgar comments about the name of the stop, please.) It's quaint, but adequate. At this point, it could be a futon in a median strip and it would look good. I drop off my bags after searching for some lighting in the room, and head out for food. I may be tired, but ich habe eine grosse hunger. Refusing the easy McDonald's stop (for shame!) I find a markt and pick a small variety of unknown foods, return to the room, eat, and pass out on the bed.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
There's no clock in the room, I have no watch, and my phone hasn't yet updated to local time. It's light out, but is it today or tomorrow? Maybe it's even yesterday. Ring! Oh, the phone. It's Jeff.
'Are you THERE? Safe? What's up?' Argh. What a shithead I am. I think I sent him an email, but it might have arrived at his work after he left. Gave him a brief synopsis of my day, receiving little sympathy, and rightly so. I tried to get him to accompany me, but his love of sports (sarcasm) combined with his workload just couldn't convince him. I miss him already.
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