I’m not exactly what you’d call a world traveler – I’ve never been any farther east than Vienna, and my western limit is California – but I’ve been in several larger cities in a number of foreign countries. I also spent a few hours in South Chicago… once. Before I travel anywhere, I like to read up on what to expect: where are the best cafés (always priority #1), museums, parks, hang-outs for locals, breathtaking views, hotspots etc. It’s good already to have a rough idea of these things before your trip begins in order to avoid wasting time figuring them out once you’re there.

Right now Katrin and I are preparing for our 2-week vacation in Israel, coming up in a week-and-a-half. This will be the first country on my been-there-done-that list that falls under the “exotic” category. Some friends of ours are working in Jerusalem, and we thought this would be a good opportunity to see a country we might otherwise hesitate to visit.

Why hesitate? Here are a few selections from the travel guides and web sites I’ve been reading:

…To avoid unwanted attention, try to blend in … Respecting local customs [like conservative dress] may placate would-be hecklers.

…if you must check a map on the street, duck into a café or shop … an obviously bewildered bodybuilder is more likely to be harassed than a stern and confident 98-pound weakling.

Damn! All that money spent on a Gold’s Gym membership for nothing!

A neck pouch [for carrying valuables] is equally safe … Refrain from pulling out your neck pouch in public.

…a good self-defense course will give you concrete ways to react to unwanted advances.

Does the ‘talk to the hand’ maneuver count?

And here’s the insider’s tip that will best help me to seamlessly integrate with the locals:

American citizens should stay away from demonstrations and generally avoid crowded public places, such as restaurants and cafes, shopping and market areas and malls, pedestrian zones, public transportation of all kinds, including buses and trains and their respective stations/terminals, and the areas around them.

Well, at least crack houses weren’t on the list. So I hope the concrete bunker I’m holed up in offers a good view of the city, or at least a busy street or even a pretty tree, assuming, of course, the bullet-proof window isn’t too thick to see through.

No worries, though; I read the same stuff before I went to South Chicago.

Since my return to Dresden in the summer of 2004, I really haven’t taken advantage of all the cultural goings-on the city has to offer. I made this same mistake in Berlin. My rationalization when I moved there went something like this: I live here. I can visit museums and theaters anytime I want. I will start tomorrow. The problem was I said this every day and then moved a year later, relegating me too soon once again to the lowly level of tourist in one of the most interesting cities I’ve seen. Never again, I told myself. From now on I’ll nurture that fragile cultural bud planted deep in the soil of my fertile soul. I’ll take advantage of whatever Dresden can give me.

Early last Friday evening while drinking a beer alone in a bar, I saw an advertisement for the band Shocka Zooloo playing in Dresden that night. For whatever reason, the name rang a bell. Back home I checked it out on the Internet and saw that the front man, TM Stevens, is one bad mofo on the bass. Chris like bass. I rounded up some friends and we went to see us some culture.

At the concert I saw Marcin, a guy I know from a voice-over job I did about three years ago. He’s a musician and came with his girlfriend to see the show. All six of us kept a low profile at the back of the hall, nodding our heads in rhythmic unison like bobble-head night at the local Church of Satan. The band was hot hot hot and had the crowd of around 400 begging for more. What TM Stevens did with the bass made me feel all squishy inside, like the first time I looked at Marcia Brady, you know, differently. Shocka Zooloo gave its all and a damned good encore to boot.

We were hanging around in the hall, just basking in the sweaty afterglow, when the guitarist, Michael Barnes a.k.a. Master Blaster, thanked us for coming to the show while on his way to the bar. Turning on Chris’s unique brand-o-charm - besides the band, I was practically the only one in the hall who spoke fluent English - I lured Mike (that’s Mr. Blaster to you, punk) into a group chat until three o’clock in the morning. It was at that point it dawned on me he might want to talk to other, shall we say, more attractive fans, and so we moseyed on.

While we still had him cornered against the bar, however, we talked about music and traveling. “The US has changed a lot over the last 4 years,” he said with dejection. “Everything has become stiffer, less open. I love touring in Europe, it’s such a breath of fresh air.” Later, after we’d said goodbye to the band and were sitting in another bar, Marcin and I were engaged in a deep discussion about the future. Although originally from Poland, he’s lived in Germany most of his life and become a successful musician. But he wasn’t satisfied: “You can’t realize your dreams in Europe,” he said. “Things here are too stale, too negative. I’m moving to LA next year.”

Wait a minute, I’m… I’m picking up… words. Yes: grass – greener – fence.

Half of us will watch this cartoon and swell with pride. Half of us will watch and laugh with embarrassment.