Summer Bailout Part 2: This bankruptcy thing ain't so bad after all

Ah Athens, once the glorious capital of the Known World, now the graffiti-scared capital of the Bankrupt World. Where did it all go wrong? Perhaps the day you forsook the wise Athena and began worshiping the cheap credit of Europa?



 

The town hall is about the only thing not foreclosed on. Although it will be soon if Frau Merkel gets her way.

No, it's not just another posing Asian tourist. It turns out the New Acropolis Museum has some cool glass floors that allow one to walk right over the ruins preserved below.

Fortunately it takes more than a credit crisis to knock down the mighty Acropolis. After all, if things get too tight we can just set sail with our invincible navy and plunder some treasure from those pesky Persians. Hang on, what do you mean that's so B.C.?

Cappuccino or cappuccino freddo? An impossible choice. Just like whether to stay in the Euro or not stay in the Euro.

The latest additions to the New Acropolis Museum's statue collection seem to have a little too much clothing on. What a waste of good marble.

Anyone up for the mezzanine tranche of a CDO backed by a first lien mortgage over this fine property? Sure it needs a little work, but the potential is there and you can't beat the location. It's a sure thing, just sign on the dotted line and watch the money roll in faster than you can say "Goldman Sachs".

This looks like the perfect location for a nine level shopping mall, food court, and Hello Kitty theme park. We just need to knock down a few of these decrepit old buildings and we're on our way. In hindsight, maybe taking those bailout Yuan wasn't such a great idea after all.

Hard currency has never looked this cool.

They certainly are making their mark, so to speak.

Careful, last time a hot babe stood on this wall, it started the Trojan War. Not to mention eventually created an excuse for Brad Pitt to jump around in an armored miniskirt.

Treatise on the Nature of Reason, by Rochimedes.

A good place for the German taxpayers to survey their new lands.

Half a column? Looks like even back then they had a budget problem.

The birthplace of democracy. Back then the only difference was gridlock came wrapped in a toga instead of an Armani suit.

How convenient, I do believe it's nearly time for the annual sacrifice to Athena.

Still flying proudly; heck for a country where 500 men stood shoulder to shoulder and withstood a mighty army, the European Central Bank is just a trifle.

Which way to the toga party?

Back then a women's job was to stand all day and hold up the ceiling with her head.

Athens is a city born of the sea, and the bustling port of Piraeus is where the action is.

Or rather where the lack of action is. On a hot day like this, nothing beats an ice cold Mythos by the sea. On that note, is Mythos the coolest name for a beer or what?

Back in the city, the main square is a hive of activity as the sun sets over the Acropolis.

Time to find some grub, and more specifically some grilled octopus. The best way to do that is to wander the narrow alleyways looking for a taverna where the day's catch is out drying in the fierce Mediterranean sun.

Greek yogurt is taking the world by storm. Why not go straight to the source?

Outdoor dining is the only way to eat on the Mediterranean. As the sun sets the lanes and alleys spring to life as the sidewalk restaurants flip today's catch onto the grills and cheery diners spill out into the night.

Civilizations come and go, balance sheets rise and fall, but for the imperious Pantheon these are but the blink of Time's eye.

Unwinding beneath the Acropolis on a balmy summer night. Can you really blame the Greeks for not wanting to work?

Summer Bailout Part 1: Das ist Gut

Germany and Greece. They both start with G, but that's about all they have in common. Team Jooster's latest trip is as antonymic as one can get. Efficient versus profligate. Organized versus chaotic. Solvent versus teetering perpetually on the edge of bankruptcy... Boring versus the life of every party? Actually, Berlin would beg to differ. 

 

Hotel Casa Camper certainly lives up to Berlin's edgy reputation. Rock tries to claim some edge cred by standing near the edge.

In artsy Berlin, there's a hidden message in the mundane. A mere shop sign or a deeper commentary on the rise of the East through the ironic appropriation of a beloved American cultural icon? Ok, maybe it's just a sign.

Mei is about to learn how to say "don't touch my asparagus!" in German.

Berlin is so hipster it makes Williamsburg skinny jeans look like XXL.

Museum Island is where all Berlin's best museums are concentrated. You know Berlin is cool when that moniker doesn't elicit an outraged commentary from Rock on how only Manhattan can lay claim to such a lofty title.

Which way to the boom boom beats? Nothing shouts hipster louder than cruising the streets in a special edition Woodstock Combi.

Hang on, I think you may have the wrong religion there dudes.

The fountain of youth? You don't need that in Berlin, everyone is young when the party lasts till daybreak.

Even the plants get in on the edgy vibe.

Any guesses on how you say Coca-Cola in German?

In  most places this is considered graffiti. In Berlin, the streets are the best museum of all. Mona Lisa is looking quite the girl about town in her Ray-Bans. Forget the enigmatic half-smile Leonardo, she's not going to pick up around here unless she has some serious eyewear.

Speaking of serious eyewear...

The gritty, post-industrial laneways of Berlin put some wings of the MoMA to shame. This is where the art meets the people. And where the people meet the biers.

Mei's long lost sister is a little wrapped up in herself.

Talk about the hipster's love of the ironic; the photographer becomes the photographed.

A biergarten that doubles as a ramengarten? Is this a cool city or what?

You never know what you'll find in the next doorway. Probably a tourist ruining the grunge factor of the neighborhood.

Most of Berlin was tragically razed in the war, but fortunately some gems either survived or were lovingly rebuilt.

The Kreuzburg neighborhood gives the Lower East Side of Manhattan some stiff competition. Eclectic cafes, hidden bars, even a canal that's a lot more fragrant than Canal.

No one does chocolate cake like the Germans. No one eats chocolate cake like the Rock.

The Polaroid is making a comeback in the retro hipster universe. So why not take it to the next level with... wait for it... a photo booth! Or rather, a photoautomat.

A hat shop? You mean people don't just buy on Amazon out here? How old school is that?

In most cities, you buy credibility at the wheel of a Maserati. Out here everyone can squeeze into skinny jeans so you've got to take things to the next level to earn your hipster badge of retro-ness. Bring on the Beatles!

When there's not enough land for the biergarten, build an extension.

You can always find the way to East Berlin by spotting the Soviet TV tower. Or you could just follow the cool crowd on their single speed bicycles.

Your nose may be a little short. Better tell some lies.

Of course, Pandas are the obvious way to sell a beach bar.

Back in the old days, this was to keep the East out of the West. Now it's to keep those lame faux-hipster Westsiders from invading the hyper-cool loft apartments, speakeasies, and locavore purveyors on the other side.

Good idea, test the snipers' marksmanship before attempting the crossing. If your hat no longer keeps the rain out, you probably want to pick a different spot to scale.

Hey mon! You dudes feel like climbing a wall today?

Only in Berlin do you find dedicated train carriages for parking your bike in. No more than one gear allowed, of course.

Note: delete this photo before starting the Greek part of the trip. They don't take kindly to German bankers. What do you mean you expect us to work every day? Seriously?

A reminder that this city wasn't always united by a love of tight denim legwear.

The Brandenburg gate is a bit too touristy, but it's place in history cannot be denied. A world was divided and then reunited here.

Who said the German football team plays a dour game?

The Reichstag, home of the German parliament and, more importantly, a nifty Norman Foster designed dome feature.

No one does efficiency like the Germans. Compare and contrast to that decrepit underground cesspit known as Penn Station.

If you can see the plate underneath, it's not a proper Wiener schnitzel.

Forget gentrification, this is hipsterfication in full flight.