Hamburg Impressions: Part I

Note: After ten months of traveling from New Jersey to Georgia, across the Atlantic to beautiful Europe, documenting some of my most precious moments, memories, and loved ones, my camera has called it quits and given me the infamous Canon lens error of death on a field trip out to Albersdorf. Hence, I apologize in advance for a string of photo-less posts until I can extract what I have from the memory card.

View of Hamburg

May 13: Laura and I had a fantastic long weekend May 13-16 in Hamburg and Berlin. The main goal behind the trip was, as previously stated, watching Der Konig der Lowen in Deutsch, which was well worth a trip alone, but considering that I knew little to none about Hamburg, the experience exceeded my expectations. We took a nice ICE train at noon to the Hauptbahnhof, which was overwhelming at first since it has been months since I’ve been to a station of comparable size. We wandered around and gawked at the sheer busyness of the place until we gathered our wits and obtained precious train and city maps from the crowded information centre. As we still had time to spare before meeting our Couchsurfing hostess, we decided to take the train to the Landungsbrucke stop by the harbour and walk along the promenade by the Elbe, passing by the impressive (but empty) fish market forum. Although we knew it was Ascension Day, we later found out that it was also Father’s Day in Germany, when large gatherings of men pulling wagons full of beers are a common sight throughout the city to celebrate being, well, men. The view and activity at Hamburg harbour are impressive, with ferry boats going across the river every few minutes to transport the theatre crowd to the Lion King shows, as well as multitudes of tour boats passing alongside cargo ships and the occasional sailboat. Laura and I decided that it was appropriate to take a break from walking around with our backpacks, and ordered delicious fresh crepes (mine with applesauce, hers with cinnamon sugar) from a small stand near the fish market. We decided that after all this time, we still can’t drop our affinity for French cuisine.

I admit that my nervousness at Couchsurfing was significantly offset by having a friend to surf with as we made our way to the Barmbek borough, north of the city centre. Transportation connections were surprisingly easy, and the location was a nice suburban change of pace from the busy centre. Who would have thought that I would ever admit to that, after years of putting up with Roswell suburbia-lites? We found our CS host’s high-rise apartment on the fourth floor, and was immediately delighted by Jessica’s sweet apartment and wonderful hospitality. Seriously, surf her couch (a gigantic one at that, probably closer to a queen size bed than couch, and set in her lovely bright living room) if you can. Well-lit, modern, yet cozy, it’s one of those places that makes me want to forget this whole nomadic existence, settle down, and have a place to display my book and photo collection and call home. She was off to her parents’ for Father’s Day dinner, but gave us sight-seeing suggestions to prioritize while we were there. Although we could have lounged around her apartment all afternoon, Laura and I decided to go out by the harbour again to grab dinner before the evening show. We had a deliciously economical falafel wraps to-go that we purchased from the Portuguese Quarter, which is a street leading to the harbour promenade featuring Portuguese/Spanish restaurants and cafes to cater to the German fascination with these southern European countries.

Interior of theatre restaurant

Now, from across the Elbe, the Theatre im Hafen (a.k.a. the Lion King Theatre) was already an impressive sight, with the larger-than-life title and iconic Simba’s head that could be seen all the way from St. Michaelis church. Yellow-themed ferry boats advertising that show as well as green ones showcasing that other Disney musical Tarzan transported hundreds of theatre-goers back and forth within minutes. The theatre itself is relatively new, being home to the one other show prior to the Lion King’s Hamburg debut in 2001. The interior was completely full of people waiting for the doors to open, and had a few refreshment bars on multiple levels, including a fancy-pants restaurant on the upper floor that allowed diners a spectacular view of the city across the water. Laura and I had separate seats in the upper-centre balcony, but with ample view of everything. As the opening act began with the “Circle of Life,” I couldn’t figure out if I was sitting too far back or the sound didn’t project far enough, but I felt that the overall sound, especially one to match the spectacular visuals of the song, was rather lacking. Most likely this was owing to the pit orchestra, though Rafiki and the vocals were very strong. Anyway, the first act did drag for a bit with the children’s roles (yes, I know they’re young and already amazing for their age). They struggled a bit to hit the correct pitches, though they had plenty of energy to run, pounce, and dance. The second act was a significant improvement over the first (again, sorry children); the adult actors were simply much stronger, and the nature of the songs allowed for more vocal display than the first. Nala and Simba were both incredibly emotional in their respective solo pieces (“Shadowland” and “Endless Night”). There was something in Simba’s vocals that was a little bit too.. thick(?) for my taste, but I was quite quite satisfied with the performance and the cast. As an added bonus, I picked up quite a few German vocabulary words that night.

To come in Part II: Touring the city by boat and with our couchsurfing host..

Broadway in Germany

Theater im Hafen, Hamburg

This upcoming Thursday is Ascension Day in Germany, thus allowing me one last taste of freedom before mandatory field trips for the next two weekends. My plans with Laura are coming along swimmingly as they revolve around Der Konig der Lowen (The Lion King) in Hamburg on Thursday! This time around, the musical will be exclusively in German. I am familiar with the story as I grew up in sync with Disney’s last Golden Age of the 90s, and have seen the musical several years ago when I was living in Toronto (marvelous production with the gorgeous Saskia Garel as Nala). The Hamburg production seems to be well-marketed and quite famous with a CD to its name. The Theater im Hafen is right on the Elbe River, and makes for an impressive sight at night. Needless to say, I am uber excited. The last time I saw a live musical must have been Avenue Q in New York back around January 2008. Way too long. I first became exposed to Broadway around the age of twelve, when I saw Mamma Mia! (original Toronto cast) with my mother. Since then, I have become a shameless ABBA fan, seen it a second time, and made it a habit to see something once a year. It was so unfortunate that this happened before the Phantom of the Opera packed up and left town after a ten-year run at the Pantages Theatre. These were the days before Toronto became a supposed SARS epicentre; the media frenzy severely crippled the tourism industry, thus sending the musical scene to the grave. Atlanta had the beautiful Fabulous Fox Theatre to its name; I did see a few wonderful touring productions but it was never a musical destination the way Toronto was.

This weekend will also mark my first Couch-surfing experience! I have been part of the website for some time now, but the last time I came close to surfing was in Nantes, France. I had wanted to see the Loire Valley region before I left, so had arranged to stay with a very pleasant girl. Unfortunately, I had a rather irresponsible night (read: Belgian beer is my weakness) before the morning train to Nantes, so it never did come to fruition. If all goes well, I also plan on spending Saturday and Sunday in Berlin provided I can secure someplace to crash for the night before returning to Kiel for my 8-6pm class on Monday. 

A case of identity

Saturday night, my friend Thais and I took a cab to go listen to some “live music” at a kumpir restaurant. I was mentally prepared to stay in and go through the dilemma of choosing between re-watching Fantastic Mr. Fox or finishing up The Man in the Iron Mask from my newly-expanded movie collection. However, as it was a Saturday night, I felt that I owed it to myself to at least step outside my apartment. After giving our cab driver the address in my broken German, we pulled up to what looked like a typical take-away restaurant on Gutenbergerstrasse; it seemed inconceivable that this was the correct place for a cool night out for live music. I had envisioned some trendy cafe-restaurant with velvet cushions, mood lighting, and a jazz band. Instead, there was a sign that said “Kumpir”, the name of said restaurant. I later learned that it is the namesake for a popular Turkish fast food potato dish, which consists of a baked potato stuffed with various things as cheese, meat, vegetables, sauces, etc. The interior was dark, lit only by the Coke machine in the corner and tealights on the few dining tables, and we could discern the silhouettes of several people seated inside. I was relieved to see a familiar face: Juan, one of our capoeira instructors, greeted us as we were offered the last few chairs in the small space. Including Thais and myself, there were perhaps a dozen people present. The atmosphere was subdued by the candlelight, and a few guitars were out, strumming to  a traditional Turkish song as the restaurant owner sang in smooth, flowing words I could not comprehend. It was a jam session, though unlike any jam session I have ever experienced; in Juan’s words, it was a time to chill.

Throughout the course of the night, we listened as guitars accompanied American blues and classic rock songs, Irish songs, German blues songs, more Turkish songs. Juan and Tim played some impromptus on the berimbaus, joined in by the guitars. Later on, we were treated to some beautiful Peruvian music, from the highlands and lowlands of the Andes. The South American guests sang and strummed in a harmonized duet; their singing was free, heart-felt, and resonated from their very core. Beside me, Juan sang along, as if he’d been singing them all his life. As I watched the guitarists’ fingers glide and dance over the strings in a manner that reflected a lifetime of practice, I couldn’t help but instinctively flex my own fingers, now stiff and uncoordinated from a few years of neglect. But even if there were a piano there in front of me, I could never play something that was so intricately connected to myself as the Peruvian players did. I grew up playing a rather extensive repertoire, but though some of the Chopin and Debussy will forever be my favourites, none remain in my memory. For them, the songs were a part of who they were, a manifestation of their very identity.

I have no regrets, no misgivings, about my up-bringing that brought me through three countries in twenty-some years. In the melting pot that is most of North America, my story and that of my family is by no means unique; I am just one of millions whose parents immigrated at a relatively early stage, enabling me to grow up and assimilate in a strange, Western land. But compared to my friends here, my case of identity becomes diluted and lost in its diversity. With them, there is absolutely no doubt as to who they are: purely and whole-heartedly Mexican, Brazilian, Swedish, Egyptian. When they meet new people, they can begin and end the small-talk rather quickly. When I meet people for the first time, the conversation usually goes like this:

Well-meaning European: “Where are you from?”

Me: [Pause] “U.S. And Canada, I guess. My family’s in the U.S.”

Well-meaning European: “But I mean… are you [insert incorrect Asian variety here]?”

Me: “I’m from Taiwan.”

Well-meaning European: “Oh.. so China, then. Don’t they eat dogs there? Konichiwa!”

(Side-bar: The dog comment happened one day as I was cooing over an elderly man’s fluffy white dog, who had been badly shaken when he fell out of his bike basket after the bike toppled over. The man acted like I wanted to eat his dog.)

So, given the complexity of the explanations that accompany the seemingly-simple question of “Where are you from?”, it is no surprise that I feel pangs of envy at times at my friends, who can answer without hesitation. They know their music, their foods, their politics, their history in an undivided way; I have to split mine in three. On top of that, I can also throw in the Southern U.S. card to further complicate things. Nonetheless, I can see the advantages: I use the Canadian part to temper out the American part (“I actually grew up in Canada; I just spent a few years in America for school.”), and I use the Taiwan part to play up my perceived “exoticism,” particularly when visiting southern Spain. In this sense, I am more able to pull the strings to accommodate each country and each person I encounter, and in the long run, I can look back and appreciate each stage of my life so far in composing who I am. After all, it does become wonderfully convenient when having my pick of Chinese tourists to take photographs of me in front of the Louvre.

Fresh, clear, well-seasoned Perspective

“You know what I’m craving? A little perspective. That’s it. I’d like some fresh, clear, well seasoned perspective. Can you suggest a good wine to go with that?” -Anton Ego, Ratatouille

Having traveled through Europe for the past two years, I was nonetheless unprepared for my one-way trip to France on August 27. Things went rather smoothly until I reached Charles De Gaulle (nicknamed “Roissy”) airport in Paris early afternoon, when I realized that my bags were not going to appear at baggage claim. I, along with the majority of my flight from Frankfurt, Germany, waited for nearly two hours to sort through baggage inquiries at the Lufthansa desk. Luckily, I was able to recall the address of my residence only because I had Google-earthed it the night before, although the only local phone number was that of the program coordinator’s office number. Not much use on a Saturday. Consequently, dealing with Lufthansa resulted in my missing the afternoon train to Poitiers, and I was therefore left with three idle hours at the CDG train station while the pay phones taunted me all afternoon, knowing I had no means to contact anyone. After a restless nap in a hard bench, I finally boarded my train shortly after 7 :15pm and arrived in Poitiers around 9:45pm. I had counted on finding a taxi to take me to the residence if I didn’t encounter anyone from Erasmus at the station, but I was met by Yves Caubet and safely carted (sans mes valises) with a few other stragglers to campus. There I was greeted by a dinner buffet and the other EMAE students, many of whom selflessly offered to loan me clothes and necessities after learning of my predicament.

The past few days of re-adjusting to an European lifestyle with more limitations than I have ever known have altered my views on what is truly important. My past experiences of “living” in Europe were, although wonderful, still on the outskirts. Last summer’s program in western and central Europe was socially and culturally eye-opening, but I was in a comfortable environment of dear UGA students. In retrospect, I have been hand-held and cared for most of my life, even as a full-fledged college student. Living without luggage, my Solara, and Americans has humbled me. The daily long walks between the residence and the city center provide wonderful details of the age and history of Poitiers, with the old stone walls, cobblestoned streets, and ancient churches. Something as simple as going to the market has to be thoroughly considered, namely, “Will I be able to carry all of this on the twenty minute trek back to the residence?” Store closing times have to be closely observed, especially on Sundays as the entire city stays home. Dressing excessively and impressively have been pushed to the back burner, as I am currently washing my few articles of clothing in the bathroom sink, hoping they would dry the next morning. Most importantly, the issue of language barriers rears its ugly head here in Poitiers; despite my extensive Canadian schooling in the language, my knowledge of French isn’t even enough to buy me a mobile phone. Most of the other EMAE students know three, four languages in addition to being bad-ass ecologists.

That being said, I am eternally grateful for the hospitality and help from EMAE-related people and friends, many of whom have been our guides to Poitiers. Spending most of my time with the other first-years has been a whirlwind of cultural crossroads and perhaps the most rewarding part of the week. But, given all the positive revelations of myself and of international life, I am not without my short-comings and am thus prone to mindless self-indulgence: I hope that I can find room to accompany all the pretty French shoes that I won’t be able to resist.

The Tenth Week

The countdown begins today for the final week of this year’s internship. Things are picking up as everyone is scrambling to complete projects and begin presentation preparations. As far as my least tern project goes, the Cape May Point site is officially wrapped up with this year’s nesting season. Bean, Noreen, and I decided to head out there to assess the nesting situation, and it looked like there were no more nests as the birds are preparing for the final month of summer. We did see one large chick hiding in the vegetation area, as well as two piping plover chicks (most likely the last remaining two of the season) running around the beach with their parent. We counted at minimum 100 least terns at the site, but none of them seemed to be sitting on nests and none of them took an interest in us as we approached. We also spotted a large flock of common terns and a few black skimmers all standing together where the least tern nests used to be, an indication that they are indeed preparing to migrate.

At the Wetlands Institute, I have been noticing a few monarch butterflies feeding at the front garden. I was overjoyed to have caught my first one, a male, on Monday. I took a tape sample of its abdomen, marked it, and released it back into the garden after confirming that it was uninfected with parasites. The garden appears to be his territory as I captured him again this afternoon. This time, I had an audience: a middle-aged visitor was watching me and pointedly informed me that this was illegal and that I was “hurting it.” She then proceeded to start snapping pictures of me running around with the butterfly net (most likely as evidence to turn me in to the butterfly police). Knowing all that she did about butterflies, she then went on about them not being able to fly after not being handled (the number one myth about butterflies), how I wasn’t allowed to keep it even after I explicitly stated that I intended to release it. I also got a nasty look after I said that I wanted to sample it for parasites; I found it rather difficult following her logic and argument as she went on to say that this was public property, etc. etc. Never mind the fact that thousands of monarchs get captured, tagged, and released every year in the Cape May area, never mind the fact that I have worked with monarchs for three years, and never mind the fact that I am now a published author in the subject…  In short, if Skip had not led me away to ignore her, things would have turned ugly.

The forces of nature

July 20: As an aspiring scientist, I should have known better than to become emotionally attached to my project with the least terns to the point of expecting everything to go as planned. The predation events of early June in Cape May Point had quickly vanished from my mind as the month of July produced dozens upon dozens of nests. At some points, the least tern count numbered in the hundreds, and we had fourteen or so nests with iButtons at the site. However, on Monday, Bean, Noreen, and I noticed a stark quietness at the site. The least terns still made a fuss when we walked close to the fenced area, but without the intensity that comes with the presence of hundreds of birds. We then discovered the site to be riddled with mammalian tracks and the disappearance of all but two of our monitored nests. Every nest that we came across had tracks leading up to and away from it, and we collected many shell fragments throughout. The counts were also startling with around 44 individuals and 16 sitting on nests. Seeing all of those least tern chicks and fledglings the past few weeks had brought my hopes up for high rates of nest success, and it was especially disconcerting as this would have been the week for the majority of nests to hatch. I was deeply affected, but I realized that it was nothing that could have been prevented given the previous predation event. Noreen and I came out again July 22, and only the iButtons remained from our last two nests (one of which was a rare three-egger). The birds most likely have moved on further down the beach to colonize, but I am unsure if they will continue for a third clutch or prepare for the fall migration. Now we only have iButtons out monitoring nests at Sea View Harbor, which has yet to encounter mammalian predators, so I remain hopeful yet apprehensive of the sheer unpredictability of the natural world.

Adventure at Philly Zoo

July 15: The annual intern trip to the Philadelphia Zoo was my first taste of the city. The experience was parallel to the Ecology Club’s behind-the-scenes tour of the Atlanta Zoo, including our free admission through the employee entrance and a tour of the reptile house. Although the Philly Zoo had a spectacular collection of all things cold-blooded, our tour guide lacked the depth and thoroughness that the one in Atlanta Zoo had. He breezed through the various turtles and lizards and snakes, but our time in the Galapagos/giant tortoise pen made up for the mediocre tour. There were about nine of them, and some were estimated to be over 100 years old!

My second tortoise-hugging experience

View from the inside the tortoise pen

Bubba or Bitchy, depending on his mood

Our next stop was the Big Cat Exhibit, which had been newly renovated and received a “best zoo exhibit” award in 2007. It consists of a system of steel tunnels through which the zookeepers can transport the animals from one habitat to another, and the cats oftentimes like to hang out in the tunnels overlooking the zoo outdoors or the offices indoors.  The facilities were very nice, and we got to see several jaguars up close,  including a sweet female that came right up to us to say hello.

White lions as seen from behind the glass

One of the many tunnels that connect the indoor holding cages with the outdoor exhibits. This one overlooks some office spaces

Female jaguar sat down right in front of us

Despite having the two guided tours in the reptile house and the big cat house, I confess that I was most excited about the brand new McNeil Avian Center that opened May 29 of this year. The building itself was beautiful, with classical architecture with columns in the front entrance and ornately decorated doors. The main exhibit is an open area, allowing visitors with walk through as the birds are free to move and fly amongst us. I was able to get up close and personal with a few individuals, particularly a toucanet that was perfectly aware of how pretty it was.

Front entrance of the bird house

Toucanet

My final destination was the “Lorikeet Encounters” attraction, and was by far the most exciting one of the day (don’t judge). The camel ride was nice to have crossed off my life list, but was not worth the six dollars for a three minute ride. However, the lorikeet exhibit was completely worth the long line. Each person was given a little plastic cup of nectar for the birds to drink out of as they stood on one’s arm (I confess that I cheated and grabbed an extra-full cup that was supposed to be distributed over several cups). Lorikeets are part of the parrot family (Psittacidae) and native to the Australasia region. Rainbow lorikeets were the most common ones in the exhibit, but there were several other species present. Besides their beautiful, vivid colouring, lorikeets have distinctive bristled tongues with which to drink nectar. The first lorikeet that visited me appeared more interested in chewing on my hand (a behavior akin to grooming), but my tolerance for pain quickly dwindled after a minute of gnawing and I had to shake him off. I had a hard time leaving the area, but by then it was time to head back to Stone Harbor.

A young umbrella cockatoo provided entertainment as we waited in line

This one wasn't interested in drinking nectar from my finger

Gorgeous rainbow lorikeet

Black-capped lorikeet

This pair wound up frolicking and playing in the ground after they were done fighting for my cup

No drop goes to waste with this one

The wait is over!

Before I divulge into any more details concerning this past week, I would like to formally present my dear readers with my very own photos (!) of the least terns that I’ve been studying for the past month and a half, and with which I have become very emotionally attached. Bean, Noreen, and I went out to Cape May Point on Tuesday, July 14, to check up on nests and these are some things we came across:

This was one of the monitored nests that hatched in Cape May Point!

Notice the variation in colouring between the two chicks

They pant when it gets really hot

One of my favourite photos

A typical nest marked with rocks/markers for visual reference. Here the eggs have hatched and an iButton remains in the ground

Sadly, we came across a predated nest. Fortunately, this was the first one in a long time and we were able to collect it for potential predator identification.

The other half of the egg.

Collecting egg remains: gloves, plastic bag, GPS unit, and ice pack for storage

Luckily, we found a rare "three-egger" near the predated nest and placed an iButton in this one.

Another typical nest setup. This one was marked with a ring of clamshells, oyster shells, and sticks.

An adult least tern sits on its nest, looking very unhappy by our presence

Piping plover! Sadly, there have been at least sixteen failed nests this season so far in Cape May.

Thursday, July 16: Bean and I visited Sea View Harbor and saw several successful nests. As with last time, the common terns were particularly intimidating.

Colony of black skimmers by the water at Sea View Harbor Marina, Somer's Point.

One of many attempts at capturing skimmers in flight

These two chicks were fast asleep and oblivious to our presence. Or choosing not to acknowledge it.

A rare glimpse freshly-hatched wet chick.

An even rarer glimpse at a two or three-week old pre-fledged chick.

This one behaved much like hatchlings by hunkering down into its nest although its size is nearing that of adults.

Coming soon: Photos and accounts of our trip to the Philadelphia Zoo from July 15!

Christmas in July

I returned from Sea View Harbor yesterday afternoon to find not one, not two, but three packages waiting for me on the kitchen table! My camera finally arrived in the mail along with a memory card reader and a bathing suit. It was hard to decide which package to open first. I honored the occasion by taking photos of Bronx, Skip’s new crested gecko. Needless to say, I will be sorely disappointed if we don’t see any chicks today at Cape May Point! I remain optimistic though; we saw at least five least tern hatchlings at Sea View yesterday, including a wet one that must have just hatched out of its shell, and a young fledgling (approximately three weeks old). The common terns were especially aggressive as they also have chicks running around the site now, and I had to duck quite a few times to avoid their dive-bombs. Photos coming real soon…

More least tern hatchlings!

Today’s trip to Cape May Point proved once again to be rewarding as we found chicks in two more nests! Each nest had successfully hatched two chicks sometime between July 7 and 10, and they were huddled close to the ground in hopes that we would go away. I witnessed a rather distressing sight when one of the chicks panicked during our photo shoot and ran away from its nest, and a nearby adult tern proceeded to attack it in a attempt to protect her own nest. The poor chick was picked up and dropped, rather violently, a couple of times before its parent interceded and settled down over it. That was our cue to leave, lest we disturbed the nests any more than they have been.

On another note, my camera should be arriving in the mail sometime next week (Canon Powershot SD890 IS), and I cannot wait to start taking photos of those adorable least terns that have been taunting me in my camera-less state. Unfortunately, that means that I am unable to take any photos of the reptile show that we’re all going to in Maryland tomorrow morning. Hope I get to see some hedgehogs!