When Midwest meets Western Europe

Bis Spaeter Deutschland

2009-07-29T01:14:00.001-07:00

We leave Germany tomorrow. After 18 months and two apartments and one collapsed roof and countless jugs of Applewein, we're leaving the 'Furt. Our apartment floor is covered in suitcases and with clothes and books and boxes of chocolate. I feel sad, of course, and already nostalgic, but two circumstances have abated any true breakdowns.

The first was that I spent the last 11 days not in the 'Furt but in Papenburg, a small northern city near the border to the Netherlands. When I was at Uni last fall I was asked to be an instructor at a summer "Schueler Akadamie" for exceptionally gifted German high schooler entering their last year of Gymnasim (like High School). The Akadamie is supposed to expose them to the rigors of Uni learning. I taught a cultural studies class on post-war America 1946-1959. The Akadamie was a lot of work, breakfast at 7 and then two three-hour sessions (morning and afternoon) interspersed with activities (I organized a ping pong tourney, and I made some Oragami cranes). This being Germany, in the evening we had hours of "quality control" meetings with other teachers and I usually threw myself into bed no earlier than 12:30. It was rough. But it was also fun. I made the students read "Catcher in the Rye" and "On the Road," and topics discussed included Truman, Elvis, McCarthyism, the Interstate, Chase records and I even managed to squeeze in an excerpt from one of my favorite school-days books "The Right Stuff," when talking about the space race.

Although the Akadamie was fun it left me drained. I don't know how high school teachers can interact with teenagers all day. This is not because I find teens difficult, quite the opposite: I was touched by how vulnerable and awkward and sad most of them are . The in-groups and out-groups were so clear, and I especially couldn't handle certain sensitive boys who have neither an aptitude for sports nor a way to understand deal with their sexual attraction to girls. And of course there were the handful of foreign students who everyone avoided like the plague. These became my people, as I was one of them too.

The other reason I haven't been too broken up is because I'm only home in MN for one week before we move to North Carolina, which may be a bigger shock than moving to Germany. Yes, I speak the language but I have to look for work, find out where I got to the grocery store, acknowledge the hurricane season, etc. Also, our lives will still certainly be linked to Germany, and I doubt there will be more than a year or two that goes by without us visiting or working here for extended periods of time.

But all that being said I'm getting sadder as I write this. I used this blog to complain and BS about all the cultural differences an American experiences while living in Germany, but I haven't really done the country justice. Yes, the people can be narrow-minded and unfriendly. But there is a common trust Germans, and people living in Germany share, a very basic understanding that if you follow the rules and don't hurt anyone you will be protected and respected. They are a very careful people, with myriad reasons to be, and this quality extends to all aspects of life. They are orderly and punctual, clean and precise. These are easy things to pick on, because they signify maturity, and at the end of the day a mature nation is a fundamentally boring nation. But that's ok. What seems boring on the outside reads closer to contentment on the inside. So, goodbye Deutschland, I will see you again soon.

PTSD?

2009-07-16T14:21:00.000-07:00

I think Erik suffers from PTSD ever since the ceiling debacle. It's like I live with a veteran.

We've been back in our place for four nights and Erik listens to the walls to see if he can hear anything There are some weird tiny pebble noises, and we did spend our first night back on an air mattress on the kitchen floor, but I see no cracks above my head. Oh wait. I didn't see any cracks last time either.

Our landlord paid illegal Romanian workers under the table to work on our place. They speak no German, or English and I kept finding them smoking in our bathroom which really took away the fresh paint smell of the apartment. But they were very friendly and had interesting box lunches which they ate by me.

For our temporary housing we were put up in the Hotel Maingau, a block away from us. Of course our landlord paid for the cheapest option and so we had a room with two twin beds nailed to opposite sides of the wall. We did however have CNN and SKY and BBC, which is just gluttonous. I could flip channels during the MJ funeral and I got to watch Richard Quest the horrible/awesome British business news reporter on CNN International. Youtube him, he's always yelling.

At least the sky falling helped us preempt any sadness we could have for leaving this place.

Can you believe this?

2009-07-06T06:22:00.000-07:00

This morning our apartment broke. Seriously, the ceiling fell. The police came, then the firemen.

Here's how it happened. This morning I got up, ate breakfast and then went to make the bed. I noticed a small amount of sand and dirt on the corner an looked up. The ceiling was cracked and dirt was pouring down our wall, sounding suspiciously like a Rainmaker.

I called Erik and he came home, but not before the ceiling exploded and I screamed because it sounded like it was 1945 again in my 'hood. Then Erik came home and as we were trying to contact the landlord, the fix-it man, someone another part of the ceiling fell prompting our neighbors to call the police and volunteer fire brigade.

Here are some pictures. PRAY for us. Just kidding. Just look at your nice American ceilings in your house and smile smugly.

Who's Bad?

2009-06-28T09:53:00.000-07:00

I realize I've lost some blogging mojo. What with the impending move back stateside, my departure in two weeks to teach German teenagers American history and general summer malaise, I just haven't found many things blog worthy.

Last weekend I did attend a German high school graduation and I thought that would yield some material -- but no. Turns out high schoolers are the same everywhere. There were hot slutty girls dancing up on each other and sad cheesy couples and weird Swing dance theater kids and the guy who thinks his Aviators and white blazer make him ironic. The only strange thing is that these kids can drink in front of their parents.

Then I thought maybe I'd blog about trying to find people to take over our apartment and how this makes me bake almost daily because what's a better way to make a small space smell good than muffins? But that matter was resolved last week when a guy named Mikko took our place. Mikko wears deep v-neck t-shirts. That's all I got.

And then Michael Jackson died and I was so sad. I'm not an MJ freak, but I own History. I was more sad because I woke up to the news and I think his story is one of the most horrifically American ones (who else has seen Jackson-An American Dream, the VH1 movie? Fantastic. Joe and Katherine = worst parents ever.) I mean, this guy's third child answered to the name the "Blanket." I guess I was just sad that such a story died. But my sadness was minimal compared to the Germans'.

I expected the German news media to cover the story of course, and they have, but what I didn't expect was how sad Germans are. In front of the 'Furts most-traveled U-Bahn stations are red votives with homemade collages of MJ. And last night as I was walking back from Schweizer Platz there was a little vigil and a group of about 10 Germans singing "Wanna Be Startin' Something." Germans singing! In public and with no soccer game on!

Unglaublich.

I don't know why Germans loved MJ so much. Maybe it was because he dangled Blanket out of a window in Berlin? Maybe because MJ played the Munich Olympic Stadium a lot? But the above reasons don't touch on where this public emotion comes from. If I had to guess it has to do with the end of Cold War. The 20th century and my adopted country had a rough go, and maybe when Germans hear the conga line in "Wanna Be Startin Something" or the Gospel choir key change in "Man in the Mirror" they hear the music that was playing when an end was in sight. The MJ Germans love is neither the little boy singing "I Want You Back," nor the Elizabeth Taylor-loving ghost who testified against molestation charges. No, the Germans love Bad-era MJ, a 1987 MJ. As my friend John sad earlier this week, "Germans would only be more sad if the Hoff died."

Civil servant

2009-06-13T05:09:00.000-07:00

Right now I'm sorta half unemployed because a lot of my classes are out for the summer and I'm not getting new courses because I'm done teaching in a month. I have been having a lot of unnecessary "me" time since getting back from Hungary. I clean a lot, and I baked a chocolate molten cake, and I read... but mostly I just sort of walk into the city center and look at clothes and kitchenware I can't afford. You'd think this would be frustrating, but it's not at all.

I was on one such journey downtown (10 minutes by foot, across a very popular bridge) at 3 one afternoon when I saw a group of a dozen loud, suit-clad British men walking towards me. I immediately veered away from them and clutched my purse. I have a fear of British people when they're in packs. A) They are usually belligerent and B) their youths wield knives. Now don't get me wrong, anytime I've encountered Brits in America they're charming and eccentric, polite and refined. But on the Continent they act like movie stars in hotel rooms. They throw up in the street and get into traffic accidents and wobble on slutty platform shoes. Ugh. I don't like.

What really gets under my skin is that the tired complaints that people make of Americans abroad, too loud, don't know foreign languages, drunk, lost, poorly dressed, etc., are much more fitting of Brits. Have they been tarring the English speaking community for centuries?

Perhaps it was my scowl or the way I clutched my purse but these British guys eyed me and started yelling "Miss! Miss! Sprechen Sie Englisch?" My crabby face made them think I was a local. I nodded and sighed, knowing the gig was up the minute I started to speak. "Yep, I'm an American." They started whistling and encircled me, thrusting a sheet of paper in my face. "We're on a business trip scavenger hunt and we haven't a bloody clue as to what the Dom is?" "The German word for cathedral, right behind you," I said, pointing. "And what is a Bembol?" "It's a jug that holds apple wine." "And what exactly is Fressgasse?" "Boys, it means 'chow street,' there's lots of little cafes there." I stopped them before they launched into "She's a Jolly Good Fellow." I started walking into the city as they yelled "Cheers" behind me. And then I heard them say "Pub stop gentlemen! This calls for a pint!" Keep it up Brits.

Body image problem... go to a Hungarian bath

2009-06-08T07:04:00.000-07:00

Hi all!

What an exciting 6 weeks... I took a leave of absence, a sabbatical if you will, from Deutschland to go to Minnesota, North Carolina and then back to Minnesota. I was made in honest women in a 39 minute (no Lit of the Euch, baby!) ceremony and then jetted off to Hungary leaving my gleaming Le Creusets behind.

Since this blog is supposed to be about Europe I will focus on the aforementioned trip down the Danube, which brought E and I to Budapest. Buda, the hilly part of the city is said to be on the last ripples of the Alps. Then comes the blue Danube leading to the shores of the flat Pest the first ironed portion of land that acts as an entry to the central Asian steppes. It's a city where locals believe in their own mythology of East meets West: Crossing the Danube is considered medicinal, its waters healing. Gold birds top bridges to protect from invading Turks or Germans or Soviets and everywhere there are people hawking "Hungarica" (like our, "Americana") kitschy jars of paprika and peasant dresses and bottles and bottles of Tojkai wine.

The city is as architectually stunning as its empire counterparts, Prague and Vienna, but it has more of a boomtown circa 1898 feel instead of a stateliness. It's also pretty shabby; lots of cats peeing on old Trabants and road construction that looks like it was started in 1997. But overall the city gives an impression of grandness, size.

There's also a bit of hedonism. In Soviet times Budapest was a little like Las Vegas and there are still casinos and strip clubs on the banks of the river. Topping that vibe is the inflation, 200 Hungarian ft = $0.99

We did all the things you can do in Budapest: river cruises, goulash slurping, wine tasting, castle touring. It was all great but the best experience by far was going to the Hungarian baths. There are over 15 state-run public baths in Budapest, all touting thermal hot springs and medicinal massage. Erik and I chose to go to Gellert, the most well-known to Westerners, which is housed in the back of a gorgeous Art Nouveau hotel of the same name. We were dorkily dressed in board shorts and a black one-piece respectively, and we knew that swimsuits were optional, but I don't think either of us expected to see so many pension-aged Hungarians in the buff. You name it, we saw it. Full frontal, all angles. As you progress in a Hungarian bath from one whirlpool to the next (they increase in temperature by about 5 degrees, topping out at about 102 F) you see more and more flesh. I have had some experience with aging Eastern Europeans penchant for nudity as I was a former member of the JCC of St. Paul but nothing compared to this. Seeing grandmas hit with tree branches and putting on weighted life jackets fro "submersion" therapies is graphic in every sense of the word.

That's a pretty good experience for a honeymoon, right? Looking at all those arthritic bodies is sort of a preview... of eternity.

The best is yet to come!

The time of the year...

2009-04-22T04:38:00.000-07:00

....when I realize homeless people in the 'Furt have more active social lives than I do. It's a sad day when the sun is shining, the birds are chirping and you see that the homeless of Frankfurt greet each other anew in the streets, no longer cold or threatened by snow. It's like a party, and not just anyone is invited.

I'm not being insensitive. Just factual. I first noticed that the homeless in my adopted city seemed to be sort of clique-ish last summer. I was running into the English book section at Hugenduble, and about six men who were taking their time waking up that Tuesday morning admonished me for stepping on one of the corners of their sleeping bag. The guys were having a sleepover, and I, eager customer who saw the promise of a two-week old Vanity Fair behind the shop glass, was clearly cramping their style.

Since that day I've noticed them throughout the city. Groups no larger than 6, no smaller than 3, of multi-layered and urine-stained men who get all territorial in the warm months. It's like a high school cafeteria, and I oddly feel a little left out and jealous of their camaraderie. I only have 3 friends here, and we never travel in a pack. Nor do we travel with glass votives or makeshift vigils to the Blessed Virgin.

Cheese heals, for reals

2009-04-16T12:09:00.000-07:00

Bonjour my friends!

I wish I was involved with someone who loved France. Someone who would make me live in France, who would "drag" me abroad every 2 or 3 years for "research" in France. Why? because we traveled there this past weekend (I needed to be in a real Catholic country for Holy Week) and France healed my stomach problems with her bountiful and stinky wine and cheeses. And her artfully subtitled movies. And her morning crepes. And people who might actually smile at you.

There was no work on Friday or Monday so for Erik's birthday, we boarded the train on Saturday headed towards the cultural capital of Alsace-Lorraine and the political capital of Europe, Strasbourg. This was Erik's first time, but a return trip for me. I was in Strasbourg 13 (!!!) years ago to visit my brother who was, at the time, doing a semester there. It was actually the first place I ever went to in Europe, and all I remember was going to Lafayette with my mom. Strasbourg is thus a very important city for Soucherays as it is where Andy met his wife Janell, and without her we wouldn't really be complete or have Mr. and Mrs., the two most beautiful children in the world (with Alice and Monster, of course).

Anyway, Strasbourg has it all: Dramatic history*, important waterways, cafes where C.B.S.** has sipped wine and a pretty impressive cathedral. We walked the cobblestones and went to church and ate about 5 crepes a piece. We also did a rockin' boat tour.

There are two words that epitomize urban vacation for me: BOAT TOUR. Nothing is better than being guided on a river or lake while someone describes architectural feats to you. Besides that, the only other thing I require when traveling is good food and wine. No beaches for me, no organized activities (besides the boat tour) just lots and lots of pre-travel reading of restaurant reviews and many, many glasses of Riesling.

Through my research, I decided we had to eat at Chez Yvonne for our splurge meal. It is a small cafe north of the cathedral which Jacques Chirac used to frequent. It was good, but the atmosphere was stuffy. I had coq a vin cooked in Riesling with special French sauerkraut. Erik had a smoked cheese and tomato pie with spring herbs. Our other must was a late-night visit to La Cloche a Fromage, or the cheese bell. This place might me worth a plane ticket to France alone. Cheese masters work with over 100 types of cheeses housed in a huge glass bell (the size of a VW big) and prepare cheese plates for the customers' palates. Bread and wine are the only other things on the menu. Some of the 15 cheese I sampled were awesome, heavenly creamy specimens. There were a few that actually died in my mouth, and a few that inspired Erik to start stage whispering "Cheddar is Better!"

I enjoyed the trip, and the cheese, a little more than Erik, who was a bit preoccupied with choosing our hometown for the next 5-7 years. After some aggressive hounding (did you know they offer grad students "signing bonuses"? Like baseball players?) we decided on North Carolina. So maybe this blog will become When Midwest meets Southeast. Or When Midwest Starts Going to Dangerous Lacrosse Parties. Or if I have my way and spend my last months in Europe correctly, When Midwest Meets a Guy from Eastern France and they Run Away Together to Eat Cheese.

*This part of France was once independent, then swallowed by France in 1681, then annexed by Germany in 1871, then back to France in 1918, then back to Germany in 1940, then back to France in 1945. Another way to look at it; that's the Franco-Prussian War, WWI and WWII.
** C.B.S. CARLA BRUNI-SARKOZY. I love her.

72 and sunny

2009-04-09T11:21:00.001-07:00

Every single day this week! I left Frankfurt last week and it was 50, gray and rainy and the trees were naked and damp and now -- poof! -- spring is here. Everything is in bloom, pink and yellow buds line the river and the Germans have once again resumed their seasonal lunchtime ice cream habit with a vengeance. This is our first spring in Sachsenhausen and all the street life, cafes, apple wine taverns and gelato stores are taking over the sidewalks. Suddenly the city seems more populated even with the Holy Week holidays that have given us a half week of work.

Unfortunately I have only just begun to enjoy the weather because I returned to the 'Furt on Sunday and on Monday morning got a nasty stomach illness, one worthy of a trip to the hospital and then a very trustworthy German-Jewish doctor (an anomaly!).* As I laid on his table I looked up and saw a large wooden Star of David on his wall, next to his degrees. I said, "Happy Passover!" (we were speaking English, I don't do German if I'm sick) and he glared at me and said, "How do you know I'm Jewish?" I just pointed to the wall and he laughed and then said, "Oh you are American, you must know many Jews!" I just smiled, he was pressing on my spleen and I didn't really have the chance to enjoy the weirdness of the exchange.

I'm on the mend, enough so that I took a walk outside to get a vanilla shake at McDonald's. I saw three fashion forward European men in skinny colored capris. Spring has sprung.

* It's a bit more normal here to go the hospital and then get referred to a specialist if you're sick. This is mostly because doctors here are often alone in practice and keep very old fashioned hours, say 9:30 a.m.- 1 p.m., then 3 p.m.- 5 p.m.

Ciao for now, Fatherland

2009-03-27T07:40:00.000-07:00

If you thought I was abducted, sorry, I'm here and ok. But tomorrow I am flying back for a quick visit home and the last week I have been working overtime so I can take this impromptu break. And I also got a crazy fever/cold- thing which required many trips to the pharmacy, or Apotheke.

Germans are notorious for being health freaks and are adamantly against using non-natural medication unless someone is on a deathbed. So far, I've been "prescribed" eucalyptus oil, thyme tea and some gel capsules of anis oil. As you probably guessed, these measures haven't really done much. I think I smell good, but it still feels like there is a hammer pounding my cheek if I bend my head to read a book.

This is a lame update, so I'll just sign off with a quick piece of advice I learned last night. When cooking your own pizza crust, don't place the dough on foil to bake. The dough and the foil bake together and you have to peel the foil off in little strips that burn you like a mother.

Paranoid android

2009-03-15T07:46:00.000-07:00

Either I'm being administered drugs in my sleep or strange things have been happening to me this week in the 'Furt. Now, I'll admit that as a romantic given to hyperbole, I have a tendency to get swept into conspiracy theory. But even with that recognized tendency, I've been observing some very interesting movements and frequencies around me. I feel a little bit like Liz Lemon in the episode from season 1 of "30 Rock" when she thinks her Middle Eastern neighbors are terrorists and calls them in to homeland security. Turns out, the neighbors were making an audition tape for "The Amazing Race." Ha ha ha... but wait: There IS no "Amazing Race" in Germany. Hmmm.

1. Last Monday I was waiting for the subway at Hauptwache, a busy station in the center of the 'Furt. It was about 9 a.m. I see two men in suits snapping digital pictures of the empty train tracks. Now they were either curious engineers marveling at some German ingenuity and efficiency, or they were plotting...something big. The train came. Surprise, they didn't get on, choosing instead to exit the station. Suspicious?

2. On Wednesdays I have a break from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m. and I usually come home to check my email and make myself some eggs for lunch. For the past two weeks, my doorbell rings at 2 p.m. I don't answer it because I'm afraid it's the German officials who make you pay taxes if you have a TV. But there's a catch here: The doorbell rings once, and I swear to God I hear no footsteps (and remember are apartment is a creaky wooden pre-war thing).

3. This one is the worst. On Friday I was going to work at about 7:45 a.m. and as I was getting on the down escalator, two policemen get on with me and ask if I saw anything strange that morning. I asked them to repeat it again, just to make sure I was getting my German right, and they asked again. I said no, and then asked why. They just shrugged me off and walked quickly away from me on the platform.

If I don't post again, you can all assume it's because I'm otherwise disposed...

Frankfurt's Little Children

2009-03-08T00:43:00.000-08:00

This post will either make my mom happy because it's more salacious or it will worry her. We'll see.

To supplement my income in trying economic times (and because I'm on an almost 3-month long break in between Winter and Summer Semesters at University) I've started babysitting for a family in the 'Furts Westend.

The Westend is by far the toniest neighborhood in the 'Furt. It's bordered by the University to the west and the Palmengarten, a gorgeous botanical park, to the north and the financial district to the south. The streets are wide and tree-lined, 80% residential and 80% Altbau (pre-war construction). It is such a beautiful area, that the American occupation forces chose this neighborhood to set-up shop for the last half of the 20th century. Everyone who lives here now is employed in the banking sector, including the family I work for. The Westend is shockingly white, blissfully unaware of a failing market and one of the only neighborhoods in the city where the strollers are as nice as the cars. These three factors make for one certainty: Amazing playgrounds.

Throughout Westend there are maybe five, six, black-iron gated playgrounds, sandy and full of wooden caterpillar slides and lime-green monkey bars. The playgrounds appear like mirages, nestled in between apartment houses and shaded by trees. Yesterday, it was sunny and 55, I took my charges to the playground nearest to their home and was amazed at the flirtations taking place between moms and dads on the swings. It was just like the movie/book "Little Children," except these Germans were better looking (don't get me started on how good the moms looked, it was 10 am on a Saturday and they were wearing the typical "off-day" uniform of rich German ladies: skinny jeans, riding boots, Burberry trench. I was wearing some New Balances and old Gap jeans with baby puke on the thigh.)* and had way more money than the characters in Tom Perotta's work.

One couple was so into each other, sitting side by side on the swings, babies in lap, that I thought they were the proud parents of fraternal twins. But they were not. They left at different times, with different strollers, but not before planning to meet again after afternoon naps. Emotional affair!

I can't wait to go back.

*One thing about German rich moms, they are OLD. You think they're not, but then you get up close and it is wrinkle city. And they have the old lady skinny thing which makes them all sinewy.

I am so happy right now...

2009-03-05T11:22:00.000-08:00

... because I am watching "Germany's Next Top Model" with Heidi Klum. The girls just landed in L.A., and they are having walking lessons with an ex-Israeli military officer. The man is yelling at them in English (and these are 17 year-old Germans with very imperfect English). He just told Marie, my early favorite, "You are beautiful. But you bore me."

Heidi told the girls that they have to start speaking English, because the fashion houses in Italy and USA don't speak Germany. THEN, she told them she's having English lessons. There was an uproar.

A must read

2009-02-24T00:25:00.000-08:00

Here is an article you MUST read from the New York Times. It's a mystery, combining my favorite topics: war criminals and gynecological anomalies.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/23/world/americas/23twins.html?_r=2

Worst day to be away from home...

2009-02-22T00:55:00.000-08:00

... Oscar Day. Long my favorite day of the year. And now this, my second rainy Sunday in February away from the action. Sure, they play the Oscars here on ProSieben (channel 7, also the home of Germany's Next Top Model) but they start at 1 a.m. with red carpet, 2 a.m. with the awards. And some of us have to work on Mondays.

Thankfully, since "Milk" opened here this weekend, I was able to see all the major nominated films. I hope "Slumdog" wins and Penelope Cruz for "Vicky Christina Barcelona." I do NOT think Heath Ledger should win over Philip Seymour Hoffman and I have very mixed feelings about Kate Winslet winning for "The Reader." That role was such a land mine to talk about if you live in Germany....

Other than those picks, the only movie I can say got the short end of the stick this year was "Frost/Nixon." It should have been a blockbuster (oddly enough, it is here in Germany, playing at all major Kinos). Frank Langella was awesome, and for adding shades of gray to a historical figure and playing against type, he beats Sean Penn.

I wonder sometimes why I like these awards so much. I am an avid movie-goer, but others like me have long claimed the ceremony doesn't hold water. Why too, in such bleak financial times do I feel bad for millionaire actors when they don't win? The obvious answer would have to be escapism or something like that. But I think it has more to do with the fact that the awards remind me of my home, my basement and the one Sunday night in the school year that didn't give me the blues.

Roses are red

2009-02-13T00:29:00.000-08:00

I decided to liven up some classes this week by doing a unit on Valentine's poetry. Valentine's day isn't really celebrated here in Deutschland. This is because Germans are admittedly very unromantic and non-sentimental. It is also because, as wikipedia just told me, the Brits really started this holiday which became greeting card-ified by us Amis in the 1840s. Did you know 1 billion Valentine's Day cards are sent out each year? And that's not including e-cards!

So I made cookies for my students, bought some red paper and glue sticks and wrote the following on the board:

"Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
any words you guys want,
any words you guys want, you."

You would have thought I asked them to write a sonnet or a dactyl or a ballad. They looked at me with a mixture of distrust and defeat. I pleaded, "No, really guys, it's fun and easy, you don't even have to make them sweet or romantic, they can be goofy and funny!" After 10 awkward minutes of scribbling and sighing, this is what I got, verbatim:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My coffee is hot,
When I think about you.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I hate when Stephanie makes us write or do homework,
don't you?

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Someone killed my dog,
I hope it wasn't you.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
When you say someone is 'blue' in German it means they are drunk.
___________ you.

This type of exercise was clearly rejected by my students. Why? Because it is inefficient and doesn't teach them anything that's immediate. But it teaches me a lot. Like the fact that my students are freaks.

Longest German word ever

2009-02-09T11:41:00.000-08:00

Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz

I don't know what it means. But it has something to do with beef laws.

Weekend of Presidential impersonators

2009-02-08T12:15:00.000-08:00

E and I saw "W." and "Frost/Nixon" this weekend. The later was by far the superior movie. My folks saw it a few days ago and said it was a surprising must see, and the trusty Turm Palast was showing it on the back screen, screen 6, where mice chew on red velvet seat cushions and two large columns obstruct the view of 60% of the audience members. But hey, it's in English.*

Frank Langella (Nixon) and Michael Sheen (Frost, and my new fav. actor, I think. He was a better Tony Blair than Tony Blair in "The Queen") were both so impressive, and the pace of the film clipped along. At under 2 hours, it was a rare feat for modern movie going.

2008 seemed to be the year of the political impersonation. We had the ubiquitous Fey/Palin gag, and now these two movies which, while both entertaining, could not be more different in the way they handle unpopular presidents.

In Oliver Stone's "W." Josh Brolin is all youtubey one-liners and drawled grimaces. He's a cartoon character. We hear the lines that have become so stale in the last 8 years "Fool me once... won't get fooled again," "I'm the Decider," etc. The movie intersperses Bush's biography with scenes of debate and power point maps in his cabinet room in the weeks leading up to the Iraq invasion. It ends right after the "Mission Accomplished" bit. Nothing is nuanced, everything is bold-colored and comic and centered around the simplistic Bush I- Bush II relationship. We're supposed to believe that the last 8 years happened because Bush I loved Jeb more and thought he would be president, and Bush II was merely trying to get his love and attention.

What's interesting is that most of "W."'s content is unseen and imagined by Stone. But it all feels like it has been done before, in fact, I couldn't help but think my students, or anyone who's picked up a newspaper recently, could have plotted this thing. It showed us nothing new.

So it's interesting, and a testament to Ron Howard, that "Frost/Nixon"'s subject matter is actually real and well-documented. You can youtube these interviews and very little of what's on the screen is a "big reveal." But the viewer gets so much more out of the story and sees Nixon not as a caricature but as a deeply flawed man who, fundamentally, believed that "it wasn't illegal if the president did it." Langella doesn't play him as crook or misunderstood victim or even delusional old guy. Instead he plays him as a person, and hearing him speak his words opens up history and allows the viewer to step in.

* In Germany they dub all movies into German. You have to go to an OV "original version" theater to see American films in their intended language.

Groundhog Day!

2009-02-02T23:41:00.000-08:00

Happy February, and happy Groundhog day yesterday!

I am so glad January is over. I seemed to have had a constant mild head cold and frigid fingers and salt-stained pant cuffs throughout the whole month. Now the balmy magic of my birthday month is here, and I say "amen." Today the high is 45 degrees, and we're supposed to get to 50 by the end of the week!!! Call me a MN rube, but this thrills me after a month of the coldest 'Furt temps in the last 12 years.

I am in my last week and a half of winter semester at Uni (WS: Oct-Feb, SS: March-July) so I have been a little busy giving presentations. But not really. I am shocked, after one semester, at how little work the German university requires from its students. I saw a guy in one of my seminars last week who I hadn't seen since November. Students come and go, and are able to audit as many classes they want per semester. Although I think this is nice as it promotes studying in other fields without the risk of a bad grade, it's also problematic as these auditors (who show up less than 50 % of the time) take up registration places. If you are taking a class to get a schein (grade) for your major, you must write a 25-page paper at the end of the semester and give one report. That's it. And to get a grade, you have to hound your professor to give you a piece of paper which you keep track of. There are no report cards! Needless to say the successful students have a LOT of self-initiative.

In other news we are planning a birthday trip to Ireland, namely Galway to visit some friends of Erik. I have never been to Ireland before, so any tips or recommendations would be greatly appreciated from blog readers. We have one full day in Dublin and two days in Galway. It's short, so perhaps just some "must sees."

Home-grown terrorism!

2009-01-27T05:15:00.000-08:00

I hate not being in America for awards' season. As someone who makes a point to see all nominated films and loves the Golden Globes, SAG and Academy Awards. I feel chagrined to have to go to people.com to see who won what. And though I didn't get to see "The Wrestler" or "The Reader" over Christmas, I plan to obtain them by illegal means before Feb. 22, Oscar night.*

And speaking of illegal means, you should all cheer for Germany to win Best Foreign Film for the Der Baader Meinhof Komplex. I hear France's, The Class is way better, but I highly recommend Germany's entry. BMK tells the story of the Red Army Faktion, or RAF, a group of home-grown terrorists who blew up federal buildings, bombed U.S. army bases and kidnapped government officials in West Germany from about 1968 to 1977. They were a motley crue, made up of radical students and some professionals who seemed to hate all things "Western," "American," "Fascist," "Capitalistic," or "Israeli."

Loosely organized in different cities, the RAF found their voice through writer Ulrike Meinhof (played awesomely by Martina Gedeck. She's also the star of The Lives of Others which won best foreign film in 2006. She can do no wrong.) Meinhof is a mother of two and left-leaning journalist when she joins the group in 1969, writing missives and getting them published in major magazines. She, along with the others, feel they must "go guerrilla" and "go towards guns," if they want to bring change to their country. What follows is not only a great political intrigue story, but also a very well-done action film that follows the RAF to Rome and Lebanon, Amsterdam and Berlin. It's a romp, full of guns, car chases and explosions. And while you never exactly sympathize with the RAF (it's pretty hard to get down with people who vaguely hate "the establishment") you see how the first post-war generation of Germans could have gone a little crazy. One member explains to a new recruit, very coldly, that he joined the RAF because he grew up in a house with a "Nazi for a father." We see that he means his father was both a tyrant and an actual member of the political party. It's a chilling moment, but one that director Uli Edel doesn't sentimentalize.

The movie is long, and can be a little confusing if you're not familiar with the RAF, so a quick google or nytimes.com search could help before viewing. RAF's most famous action is probably the hijacking of a Lufthansa plane in 1977. The plane landed in Mogadishu and produced the famous image of the plane captain's body being tossed out on the tarmac.

* My birthday is on Feb. 25. I have always loved that its around the following significant events: the Oscars, Ash Wednesday and the Winter Olympics.

Mrs. Cheapie

2009-01-24T05:05:00.000-08:00

This week I have been taking note of my sudden frugality. I never before considered myself cheap, or worse, tight-fisted, but as I eyed a package of unopened toilette paper rolls at University on Thursday and actually considered stuffing them in my bag I realized by bargain-hunting just took a sharp turn towards theft.

Perhaps all the talk about the economy entered my psyche by osmosis. I don't have enough money to worry about the stock market, and I (fortunately? unfortunately?) don't have a mortgage or a car payment. I make enough money to live on and save some Euros each month, but since moving to Germany I have found myself saving socks with holes in them, reusing Ziplock bags, avoiding name-brand cereal and (worst of all) going to more matinées.

I hate matinées, the whole magic of the movies has to do with darkness, no daylight, etc. Even more, I hate the people who go to them looking to save a buck.

Yes the cost of living in Europe is much higher than in St. Paul, but personally that fact rings true for me because I can't eat my mom's food, watch my family's cable or trick my father into "checking" my car for gas (works every time). So maybe my life lesson here isn't that I'm cheap; it's that I used to be a major freeloader.

The Germans loved the inauguration. I was surprised it was on all the major networks here! Many students told me they loved the ceremony but were startled by the frequent mentioning of God. Whatever, heathens.

Viva Mexico

2009-01-16T08:22:00.000-08:00

There are no good Mexican restaurants in Germany.*

Apparently, there's a decent one in Munich that ex-pats mention when they take personal offense to my critique ("And who cares if you can't get Mexican? Look at the health care system!") but I suspect it's an urban legend. And I do care that there's no place where I can consume 1,000 calories via sour cream and cheese in my urban dwelling. That's important to me.

So I was thrilled on Wednesday when E snuck us in to a press-only PR cooking party sponsored by the Mexican tourism offices in greater Germany. The premise: 15 journalists were invited to a test kitchen where we formed teams and then had a Mexican chef (who married a German man) lead us through the cooking and consuming of 9 dishes. We made tortillas from scratch, guacamole, mole, Cebiche, galletas, tequila spiked mangoes, and a bunch of other dishes I can't remember. I can't remember because the kind people of Mexico greeted us at the door with aprons and a glass of Winter punch, a rum concoction, followed by bottles and bottles of red wine. We arrived at 6:30 and crawled out of the facilities at midnight, fully stuffed and warmed by real Chipotle chilies. It was the best Mexican food I've ever had, but what was more fun was the fellowship experienced between E and I and the Mexicans. They immediately sniffed us out as Americans and then proclaimed, "We are the same!" and gave us hugs. They totally helped us cook more than the other teams and gave me a thumbs up when I, in typical American fashion, loudly ripped open a bag of chips at the start of my cooking (I was hungry, I saw something that looked like Tostitos). They also told me I needed a cast-iron tortilla maker. I made a note of it, because I take my Mexican food consumption, and my fellow Americans, very seriously.

*Germany has the following: Good Turkish food, good German food, good French food, good Italian food, good Japanese food. That's it.

I'm baaack in the 'Furt

2009-01-10T06:19:00.000-08:00

I know you're all wondering...where is number 1? We're almost two weeks into the new year and I've already disappointed you. But fear not. I did not forget, I purposefully did not make a number one, because I have at least another 8-10 months in this country and surely the Germans will surprise me. I'm leaving room, exercising blog management if you will.

So maybe it will be Germans orderliness, punctuality or ways with cabbage... but I hope that it's something bold I haven't discovered yet.

I arrived back in the 'Furt yesterday after a hellish Delta experience. No personal TVs, no in-flight snacks and uncertain pilots ("Not sure if this brake light is serious but we're going to have to circle back to the gate" Um, thanks?) I was seated next to a man with very long hair en route to Sweden and Finland for a death metal tour. His band's name?: Hate Eternal. I just googled them and they are real and apparently quite popular in northern Europe. This guy was full of surprises. No. 1: He is a vegan. No. 2: His favorite TV shows is "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives."

I was expecting our apartment to be cold since Russia cut off our gas supply. But it's not. Apparently we have reserves from the Netherlands. Thank God for Dutch!

The rest is the best

2008-12-31T10:54:00.001-08:00

I am getting in under the clock! Here is the rest of what I like about Germany... I would have written sooner but I haven't had much downtime on my vacation home:

Number 4: Lack of sarcasm.

Sure, Germans are not very funny, in fact, they are unfunny. They do not like puns, double entendres or sarcastic asides. Sometimes they tolerate physical comedy or racist jokes about Italians, but usually they keep it straight-laced. And although this is one of my least favorite things about Germans, it's also an admirable trait. Unlike so many sound byte-y Americans, Germans are comfortable with silence and reflection and an altogether absence of cheer. They also don't quip mean or sarcastic or speak like a MySpace away message. Finally, I think this lack of sarcasm also eliminates the cultural-verbal hiccup of "like." Like, cool.

Number 3: Easily identifiable prostitutes.

Are they going to the State Fair, or going to turn a trick? German hookers always inspire this question in my mind because they are outfitted with a jaunty white fanny pack. Brilliant! It holds money, prophylactics and lipstick, what else does a lady of the Nacht need?! Not to make light of a serious topic in Germany (hookers are taxpayers, it's legal) but I like that they sort of have a uniform. From to Berlin to Hamburg you see the fanny pack, a white puffy jacket and white pleather go-go boots. This fits Germans general love of order and stereotypes, and if you can't stereotype a hooker, who can you stereotype?

Number 2: Regionalism.

I love this one. In the past year I have been to Cologne, Berlin, Hamburg, Nuremburg, Munich, Hannover, Bamberg, etc... and every city is different, reflecting the vast regionalism in germany. Geography helps: The Alps, the river region and the North sea all provide ready-made identities, but even in states like Hessen, the people are proud to have their own slang, booze and universities.

Mambo number 5 (and 6)

2008-12-16T12:14:00.000-08:00

Why does Lou Vega exist? Why am I taking off-brand German cold medicine? Where am I?

The number 6 thing I like about Germany is their precise and particular and perplexing language. It's true: Even though German grammar is so hard, and I'll never understand a sentence like Ich wasche mir die Haende mit guter Seife (literal translation: I wash myself/to me the hands with good soap. Real world translation: I am washing my hands) I keep trying because it's so hard that it becomes fun. Maybe this is how it feels to play chess or something. I also love the words because they are so literal. Let me illustrate with some words from advertisements in the latest issue of the German fashion magazine Brigiite: Protein is "Eiweiss" (egg white); oral contraceptives are "die antibabypille" (the anti-baby pill); vacuum cleaner is "Staubsauger" (dust sucker); mittens are "Handschue" (hand shoes); gums (from a toothpaste ad) are "Zahnfleisch" (tooth meat). But my favorite is one of the first German words I learned: "Nacktschneke." It means naked snail, in other words, a slug.

And while we're talking about tooth meat, I'll bring up number 5 which is the pretty rockin' German healthcare system. I'm not going to get all political on you, but I have to say going to the doctor for a sinus infection (sorry, that's gross) earlier this year was shocking for two reasons. 1: My doctor had a red 'fro and 2: The cost of the visit plus 18 Amoxicillian pills was only 20 Euros!!!! That's just plain unbelievable. The proof is in the pudding, or my clear sinus cavities.

The Upper Crust

2008-12-11T09:11:00.000-08:00

I will not let you down blog readers (mom and dad)! I return with numbers 8 and 7 on things I actually like about the 'Furt/ the Fatherland.

This installment is a little late as our apartmenthold has been staging an epic battle with a nasty holiday cold. I have also been working overtime to get two Romanian girls prepared to take the TOEFL test and I am so emotionally invested in their understanding of "if clauses" and "reported speech." If you know me, you know how I feel about Eastern Europe/ Europeans (undying love/devotion) so you can imagine how much I care about Luci and Maria's success. Ok, so on with the show:

Number 8: I love that Germans take pride in their royal blood.

In the course of this last year I have had several students make artfully blase remarks how all of Europe's royal families are actually German. This murmur of royal boasting was amplified a few weeks ago when Chuck turned 60, it was all over the news and the Germans were all like, "they are actually German, what's the big deal?" Because Germany was such a disorganized mess up until... umm... 1946, Germany was a treasure trove of royal families who rose and descended in power and land, but always made a good marriage option for the houses of France, Germany, Spain and the UK. German houses like the Hannovers, Holsteins and the Saxe-Coburg-Gothas (later shortened to "Windsor") produced Queen Victoria and, thus, my beloved Chuck.

Since the German are incapable or irony, their boasts are totally legit. One student, Ute, actually said that without the mix of German blood all royal families would be "like this." She then proceeded to stick out her jaw and mime not being able to close her mouth.

Number 7: They have never had a problem with Carbs.

Sure, Germans have fad diets (mostly juice fasts and food combining) and women buy cellulite cream by the liter at the drugstore, but Germans have never demonized carbs. They love bread and embrace it in many forms, most notably the pretzel (Bretzle) and the many dense and delicious Kuchen (cakes). Bread here is consumed at every meal, and it's hearty, nutty, brownberry stuff. Bakeries of all stripes (chain and healthy independents) line every street. Thank God we have Dr. Oester, and not Dr Atkins.

Do you get my blog title?

Prost! (cheers)

2008-12-06T09:57:00.001-08:00

My number 9 Thing I Actually Like about Germany is... their Drinking culture!

I think Germany is the best drinking country in the world. They make excellent wines, beers and liquors and do not seem to have severe problems with overindulgence. They foster drinking communities through neighborhood Kneipes (like a pub/bar) where groups of friends can claim a Stammtisch, or reserved table. Sure, you may find over-served Germans at these bars, but who cares? A drunk German will just become rosy cheeked and possibly start singing songs about mountains or Austria. A drunk Brit, on the other hand, might try to stab you.

Germans are great at ritual, which is what makes drinking here so satisfying. Here in the 'Furt we drink Apfelwein, not found outside the state of Hessen. So Apfelwein is always served in a dimpled glass out of a ceramic pitcher, or Bemble. We also drink Henniger beer, brewed not 500 yards from our apartment and Rheingauer Riesling, grown one hour north of the city. Each drink has it's own glass, it's own temperature, it's own season, etc. It's orderly and evocative of traditions and merriment that have been taking place long before you turned 21 (or 18, as it is here).

And the Germans show a flexibility and creativity in their drinking culture that is rarely seen in other parts of the country's persona. I have previously written about Diesel (coke + beer), but there is also Jaegermeister tee, mulled wine, spiked cider, and my favorite raspberry beer. The Germans allow their fancies to take over at the tap.

Shameless Pride

2008-12-05T00:26:00.000-08:00

I am a very happy DP today because all of Germany is reading an interview of Annie Lennox by Herr Grell in the Friday edition of the FAZ. This is a big paper in Germany, and E's name underneath the androgynous singer's picture is certainly frame-worthy.

I will post again later today about the number 9 thing I love about Germans: Drinking Culture.

In which I do something different

2008-12-02T11:20:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it's the mulled wine or the Christmas lights hanging from the Altbau apartments, but I am in the mood for a little holiday goodwill and yuletide reflection. At a recent dinner at our neighborhood Indian place, the colonial namesake Bombay Palace, E pointed out to me that on January 7th I will have my one-year anniversary with the Fatherland.

My initial response: Scheisse. One year and I have a special needs third grader's language skills, one German friend, one Ukrainian friend probably about 3 pounds of Ritter Sport chocolate irrevocably attached to my butt. I was being a Negative Nancy, a role that ex-patriotism not only encourages but supports. For me, 2008 was the Year of the Gripe. The most omnipresent: I can't remember dative personal pronouns. I have no oven. I have no friends. I feel bloated. I wish I looked Aryan. I wish the English movie theater didn't show "Hellboy" on two screens... etc.

So in an effort to be more positive I am going to post my Top Ten Things I Actually Like about Germany/Germans throughout the rest of December. I have one month to foster my "intention of happiness" (that's from an O article I cut out). Here goes:

Number 10: I like how Germans dance because it's so weird

A few weeks ago I went to a German dance club with the aforementioned German friend. The club was full of hipsters, and the DJ was spinning things like " Don't Walk Away Renee" with a house beat. It was weird, but not as weird as a dance floor full of Krauts getting down. Germans do not grind, freak or hump on the dance floor. Nor do they dance ironically, they way most white people do (like me). There are no sprinklers or pencil sharpeners, no people pretending to be hooked fish. Instead Germans dance in a totally serious, totally Teutonic, totally unselfconscious way. They're like Sprockets but better. They do not touch. They do not smile. They do not raise their arms. They grimace and move their hips like people who actually like Kraftwerk. They are robots, and God bless them for that.

Santa packs are comin'...

2008-11-26T10:21:00.000-08:00

No they're not! Germans do not do holiday coke products. But they do Weihnachtsmarkt or the Christmas Market, also known as the time of year I become a widow because I have a domestic partner who likes Gluehwein (mulled wine).

Christmas markets are set up in the pedestrian zones of all major German cities. The 'Furt's is pretty decent and winds itself around the Roemerberg and the Zeil. Little wooden huts selling gingerbread, spiced wine, potato pancakes, etc... beckon the passerby from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. and each mini-house is adorned with lights to boot. It really is festive and sort of Grimm-like.

I however, do not think there is a sicker concoction than hot red wine mixed with sugar and random herbs. It gives me gut rot just thinking about it.

The 'Furt opened their market today (each city does it some days before Advent) with the lighting of a central Christmas tree. We are planning to go to Hamburg on Dec. 20 to see their markets, which are on the harbor and situated around a skating rink. It is all very idyllic and Nordic; it makes me reflect on my time spent with the American Girl doll Kirsten Larson. Though not a Swede nor a Lutheran, I dug her dour candle-lit Minnesota holiday celebrations. Like in Germany, the cold and the usual bummer temperament of the people made the holiday effort seem doubly festive.

Fighting the Bear

2008-11-17T07:20:00.000-08:00

This time of year I am fighting the bear, our innate animal instinct to horde and hibernate come November. For me this looks like wanting to eat whole kilos of Milka chocolate and contemplating renting "Something's Gotta Give" from itunes. No other movie, except perhaps "You've Got Mail," makes me more immobile and/or grateful for TBS than "Something's Gotta Give." It's not even a guilty pleasure because Amanda Peet's bangs changed my life and I am in mad love with Erica Berry's (Diane Keaton) life Why?:
1. She always celebrates her birthday in Paris and smokes a cigarette.
2. She collects sea glass.
3. She can only get 4 hours of sleep per night.
4. She only shops at markets and uses an iBook.

That movie also makes me yearn for middle age, which is a feat in itself.

Berlin Baby Pt. II

2008-11-13T10:27:00.001-08:00

I went to Berlin this past weekend with my parents and sister-in-law. They came to the 'Furt for an autumn break and although I've seen enough of ZARA kids to last me awhile, I absolutely had a blast with them. I think this was in large part due to my SIL, Janell. She not only taught me how to properly clean my bathroom (who knew that you had to clean toilet basin bowl?! I am not good at that!) but she also balanced the DNA overload of my parents. My father is prone to dramatics and histrionics (At the Checkpoint Charlie Museum: "You mean to tell me that when I was a 16 year-old banging on drums in White Bear, some 16 year-old East German was trying to build a helicopter to cross the Wall... (awed shaking of the head)." My mother, God bless her, has gotten a little too skillful at text messaging and internet browsing via cell phone. She whipped out her phone in front of every monument to "check on my guy." She meant Barack Obama.

But that's why I love my parents, I think.

Besides seeing all of the major Berlin sites, taking a bus/boat tour, and doing damage control at the Pergamon Museum (my dad tried to touch the Ishtar Gate: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ishtar_Gate) we ate at some amazing restaurants. When a guidebook tells me that there's an Italian restaurant serving "the best Italian food outside of Italy" and frequented by the likes of a Mr. Tom Hanks, I'm there. So we enjoyed a meal at Bocca Di Bacco: http://www.boccadibacco.de/

We also ate at Zum Letzen Instanz, Berlin's oldest restaurant (1621) where a group of drunk Swedish business men (from hand gestures we gathered concrete sales) kept massaging both of my parents' necks.

And we hung out a lot in the lobby of the Westin Grand, where scenes from the second Bourne movie where filmed. They have ornery waitresses.

Surprisingly my parents and Janell claim to like the 'Furt more than Berlin. I don't know if they are saying that just to be nice, but for those of us living in the Cleveland of German, it felt pretty darn good.

Scary Urban Experience #1

2008-11-06T12:26:00.000-08:00

Tuesday morning: The sun is shining, it's 9 a.m. and I am walking my 4 minute walk to the subway station to go to work. It's fall, the leaves are bright, and I am modestly dressed in a long black toggle coat and full length pants. I also have my hair in a ponytail and minimal make-up (sorry Mom, I don't always "define my eyes"). See me smiling, see me walking by the butcher and the baker, and thinking to myself, "Where's the candlestick maker? Ha ha."

Suddenly, a nice-looking man, age approximately 35 approaches me. In German he asks if I know how to get to the main train station. Indeed I do! I cheerfully tell him to take a tram and then I turn and keep going. He yells for me to wait and asks me to repeat myself "Noch einmal, bitte." Of course I repeat myself, I'm from Minnesota. I smile and turn and hear him yell "wait" again. He asks if I am British, because of my accent. I say "nope, American." I walk and he yells again. This time, I'm annoyed but I stop and he asks me to walk with him, offering me his elbow. Now, about 3 minutes too late, I realize that this guy is potentially creepy, so I just say in a stern voice, "I have to go to work." I start walking really fast, not 100 feet from the U-Bahn when this guy runs behind me, grabs my arm, turns me around and says "You have to work. I'll give you 50 Euro." This proposition was accompanied by the man making a lewd gesture with his free hand, his mouth and his tongue. I pinwheeled my arm and just screamed "No!" without thinking. Luckily, two construction workers on the street ran over and pushed the guy away, and scared him off. The workers escorted me to the U-Bahn where I told a cop what happened. I can identify this man "Law and Order: SUV" style. He is 5'11, no more than 170 and he has dark hair. I gave all this information to the cop. I don't feel like the victim of a crime, per say, but I do feel like I would make an excellent witness.

I am not a suspicious person, and I certainly do not look like a fancy prostitute at 9 in the morning. I smile at strangers and like to help tourists read maps when I hear them speaking English. I even, much to the annoyance of E, strike up conversations with Mormons on the train. Even though this encounter was strange, and by all means scary, I haven't really changed my routine. Maybe I'm too trusting, but I think this guy knows not to come back to the neighborhood where such a fierce arm pinwheeler resides.

I'm probably being really naive.

German Children

2008-11-02T02:23:00.000-08:00

On Fridays I teach a group of four 10 year-olds whose parents want them to excel in English. We play a lot of hang man, and I also make them sing songs. I don't think they're really excelling.

These boys are very funny, often smelling their armpits and declaring they need "Deo," or asking me how many kids I have. They can never seem to keep my personal biography straight and always ask if I'm from America or Australia. They asked this last question again on Friday (right after I read them "The Raven").

Me: I'm from America, I just told you guys that.
Them: Oh yeah! (then they kiss their first two fingers before splitting them into a peace sign, a very German soccer superstar thing.)
Me: Do you guys know what's happening in my country in a few days?
Them: (thinking, actually picking their nose) Um, a train strike?
Me: No
Them: Trash strike?
Me: No
Them: City strike?
Me: No
Them: BUS strike?
Me: No, no strikes.
Them: What? It's not a strike?
Me: No, we're voting for a new president.

*Silence*

Them: My father says the Americans are the world police.
Me: Well that's his opinion but... um, do you guys want to play hangman?

This website rocks

2008-10-29T15:27:00.000-07:00

You can just watch ANY music video you can think of!

http://www.mtvmusic.com

Does everyone already know about this? Am I really behind on youth culture?

It's in my backyard!

2008-10-29T15:02:00.000-07:00

So I guess Hessen's own Frankenstein's Burg (the castle that inspired Mary Shelley) is making some North American news agencies.
http://www.nbc13.com/vtm/news/local/article/spending_halloween_in_frankensteins_castle/43499/

Yawn.

Any Hessischerin worth her weight in Applewein knows that this castle just south of Darmstadt (maybe 50 minutes south of the 'Furt) is the place to be for Halloween on mainland Europe. Make that the only place to be. Halloween is not big here. I don't know if I will have the opportunity to break out my beloved cat ears.* I chalk up Germans' chilly embrace of Halloween to their literalism. Germans have a very low tolerance for fancy, and even less for children knocking on their doors after sundown. Ja, ja, ja, I know that Halloween is an American export and many students and peers have pointed out that it's a holiday created by candy companies, but who cares? It's one of America's better exports, and traditions, if you ask me, and commercialism doesn't bother me so much when it culminates in a Funsize Twix or a Mylar balloon with the the word "Spooky" written on it.

I have had the weirdest work week, which I'm chalking up to the crazy global vibes of the election/the financial crisis/my proximity to Frankenstein's house. Students have been revealing things to me that make me very nervous, and I am just not sure how to respond:

-Today a male student told me that his children (let's be real, he said "childs" because he can't nail down that irregular plural) were miracles. I nodded and said, "I know, children ARE miracles." But then he went into a very detailed account of his fertility problems, including how he got nervous when he had to "Make it in [the] cup with the hardcore."
- On Tuesday a man whom I always thought was German revealed to me that he was in fact Peruvian, born to Estonian parents, and educated in a Swiss boarding school.I never thought him glamorous, and now I can't help thinking he's a spy. I don't trust him anymore.
- Those were actually the only two things, but I thought they were pretty weird, and deserved a mention on this Godforsaken blog.

* My cat ears are an integral part of the costume I have worn most for Halloween, "Black Cat." I love the simplicity of a few black eyeliner whiskers, a headband with ears, and a black turtleneck with jeans. This costume illustrates both my lack of ingenuity and my belief that black cats and I share a similar fashion sense.

Germany: Where kids can look at porn

2008-10-25T10:26:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay but between working (almost) full-time and going to school, I've neglected my blog. Fortunately, I have a group of students ending this week so I will have 180 more free minutes starting Wednesday... I will use this free time to blog. Or bake cookies. Or, let's be real, read fashion blogs and watch the Sarah Palin rap for the 17th time.

On Tuesday I was taking the subway to my crime fiction class where we just read Poe's "The Murders in the Rue Morgue." My fellow students are old! At least 30! And they all smoke and wear real trench coats. Needless to say, I felt pretty intimidated during the first two lectures until one girl (woman, actually) asked me to do a co-presentation with her on prison imagery in fiction. I am so desperate for acquaintances and/or peers I actually said yes. Anyway, I was on the subway and noticed an old man reading Bild, the number one picture-packed newspaper in Germany. It's like USA Today with boobs. Boobs, boobs, boobs. Everyday the paper features a naked lady on the bottom front page, except on Sundays when she's inside on page 3. So this guy was reading and there was this 19 year-old Brigitte with her rack out when a group of about 15 fourth-graders got on. They crowded in, sat next to the man, and the boys immediately began to crack up. And it wasn't just laughing, it was a rolling on the floor of the dirty subway, gasping for air annoying but cute display. The best part was that the teachers started laughing too. Then the girls pretended to not know what was going on. It was so refreshing. I was glad to see that German 10 year-olds laughed uncontrollably about nudity and sexuality. They deal with the shame of nudity like the rest of us. That's how it should be. I was thinking that in this culture, with it's nude newspapers would have produced a generation of progressives, but not so.

12 reasons they still love us

2008-10-13T07:20:00.001-07:00

So the FAZ, the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (Frankfurt Daily Paper) had a big article on America in their weekend "Culture" edition. The FAZ is a bit like the NYT of Germany (full discretion: Also E's employer) and they usually have very good, thoughtful coverage of current issues. I can't understand the advanced German in the paper, but I look at the pictures and illustrations.

This Sunday the Culture section was called "We Love America." In the subhead that followed, the editorial staff wrote that even though the USA may have ruined the world economy, they still love the States and admire them. Wow, I thought, how bold. Then they gave the 12 reasons they still loved us. The reasons are a mix of the total obvious (Rock music? No shit.) and completely hilarious German observations.

Here's the list:

1. TV Series. They mention "Frasier" and "Malcom in the Middle" as their top pics. Ouch germany, ouch.
2. Mode (Fashion). Here they mention Jackie O., Michelle Obama, and Marc Jacobs.
3. Rockmusik. It's all about Bob Dylan.
4. Kinderliebe (Americans love children). This is my favorite, because the editors claim that children in America are treated like Kings and Queens. Their proof? The existence of Kid's menus at restaurants.
5. Universitaeten: We have some of the best research institutes, especially medical in the world.
6. Freundlichkeit (Friendliness): Also funny, they claim Americans are friendly because they ask everyone, the shop keeper, the waiter, even their employee, "how are you?" Hey Germany, this is just called being decent.
7. Basketball: Deutschland hoops it up.
8. Indian Summer: And our entire New England landscape they have from movies.
9. New York City: "Es ist hip geworden." It was where hip was born.
10. Debattenkultur (Debating): They love that we actually "still" do this.
11. Kino (Cinema): They ruin this entry by saying the best moment in US film history is Julia Roberts in her red Opera dress in "Pretty Woman."
12. Literatur: In defense against that (French?) guy who said an American author does not deserve the Nobel Prize.

I love how unironic Germans are. And now that they mention it, there are no Kid's menus here! Maybe this is part of the birth rate problem!

I have no pride

2008-10-07T06:22:00.000-07:00

If you ever live abroad in a country where you don't really know the language, you will quickly lose any semblance of the pride or dignity you once possessed. If you don't give up your pride, you're subject to daily humiliation. When I first came here, I could barley introduce myself, let alone read German. Thus I walking into doors labeled "out," I was asked to move check-out lines because I had more than 5 items, etc. But even the past 9 months of letting go of shame did not prepare me for Sunday afternoon... when I got kicked out of a McDonald's.

How trashy do you have to be to get kicked out of a McDonald's? McDonald's, the one place in Europe where I could always count on fast service and the footwear-less presence of junkies. McDonald's is like my little American embassy: Visited rarely, in times of extreme desperation.

I was there Sunday using the t-mobile HotSpot WiFi. I had a Happy Meal, a speedy connection to cnn.com, and I was just youtubing some SNL clips when an angry manager approached me, hands waving.

"Geht Raus!"

I thought, "Hey! I understand this guy! :)" I know that means go away, or get outside, because that's what my student's say when there is a bee in the classroom. Then is hit me, he was shooing at me.. A man in Germany was shooing me, a paying AMERICAN customer out of his establishment. I felt the eyes of small children turn to me, and I was too embarrassed to respond. But if I had, I probably would have made a grammatical mistake.

We just got internet and phone!

2008-10-06T13:06:00.001-07:00

Here are some pictures of the new place!

Moving trials and tribulations

2008-10-03T04:47:00.000-07:00

So we've moved into the much more centrally located, well-cafe-ed area of Sachsenhausen. I would have blogged earlier and posted pictures of our glorious oven, but of course our internet and phone have not yet been connected.

I really think that Americans win when it comes to efficiency in the service industry. If I pay (or E pays) for a service as necessary as a telephone, it should be set up without the prodding of a dozen phone calls and a two-week waiting period. E tells me I am being an impatient American, but really, ask any ex-pat and they'll tell you that without internet they'd be fashioning a noose out of that super sticky IKEA tape that has piled up in any neue Whonung corner. Also, German TV is just not covering the news stories I need. Political upheavals in Bavaria don't do much for me.

The move took place Sunday and Monday. We rented a molester van and also had some new furniture delivered by IKEA on Tuesday. We painted the new place, which is high-ceilinged and sunny, then began unpacking the boxes. Luckily we have big clothes wardrobes so our clothes hanging no longer takes place on free-standing rods. We also have a very sharp Expedit bookshelf that also serves as room divider. We're still working on putting the place together but at least E has put up the bathroom light and assembled everything.

While he works with his newly acquired power drill (is that what that's called?) I have been playing with oven. Things I have made, and subsequently eaten: Coconut and Cranberrry Oat Bars, Blondies, Yogurt Scones, Bean Boulangerie and stuffed peppers. Baking supplies are different here: Baking powder comes only in individual packets as does vanilla extract. Brown sugar is not hard-packed and they do not sell disposable pie tins. Today I attempt cookies.

I start school on Tuesday. My first class is on violence in the American novel. I think the first assigned book is Blood Meridian. Today there is no work. It's Oct. 3, German Day of Reunification, or Einheit. Everything is closed (I can use WiFi at Starbucks or McDonald's) but the day is sleepy. It's not like Bastille Day or 4th of July. Germans don't have any attachment to this specific date and both Ost and West question the Einheit, even as we're approaching the 20 year mark next year.

Here;s some links about our new neighborhood (we live on Textorstrasse) : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sachsenhausen_(Frankfurt_am_Main
http://www.frankfurt360.de/sachsenhausen-e.htm

Apologies!

2008-09-23T06:06:00.000-07:00

I am so sorry to be a lazy blogger this last week. Between work, gearing up for an apartment move and getting all my ducks in a row at the University, I've been busy.

The weather here in the 'Furt is absolutely dreadful. It's cold (40 degrees), gray and wet. This is typical Hessen weather; since we're surrounded by mountains it never gets super cold and doesn't really snow, just a miserable sort of dampness that crawls under your jacket for 6 months.

Despite the cold weather my friend Courtney and I had a great time when she visited this weekend. She's in Berlin, soon to be back in the states and she wanted one last visit to Mainhattan. We walked and walked, and ate and ate. Cafe Crumble has to be the best new place I've tried this week: They serve a hausgemacht (home made) streussel crumble with warm raspberries and rhubarb and vanilla sauce. Truly German pastries at their finest.

In order to celebrate E's last day at his not-so-fun job yesterday, we went to see "Tropic Thunder" at the American movie theater. Choices are limited at the Turm Palast, and we did not want to see "Mummy 4." In most areas of life Germans will avoid being close to you, but not at the movie theater. On a train, on the sidewalk, in an elevator, Germans place themselves as far away from you as physically possible. But at the movies they nuzzle right up... I don't know if it's because the aisle seats are not considered as premium as they are at home, but I can't stand how Germans sit next to you in an otherwise empty theater. Maybe they're looking to other patrons for cues to laugh.

Typisch Deutsch

2008-09-15T11:16:00.001-07:00

This weekend was Typisch Deutsch, or typically German around these parts.

On Friday, we tried a new restaurant called Weisse Lilie (White Lilly) a Spanish Tapas restaurant in Bornheim. If you ever get to the 'Furt, this is a must. candle-lit-dark-wooded-hand-written-menu-dwarf-appropriate-table-sizes were really enjoyable, and the saffron rice and seafood (not to mention the cured olives) was also excellent. And then we went home, and I fitness walked while listening to a "Fresh Air" podcast. That last sentence makes me seem too teachery...

On Saturday we slept and eventually made our way to Bokenheim for a birthday party. The crowd was international but leaning heavily towards the Natives. I had to actually speak German and mime (One man told me he was a "Tischler" (carpenter) and I started making a hammer motion. Unfortunate.) What was interesting to observe were the German's drinking habits. They drink Coke Light mixed with any sort of Pils! Everyone told me this was the typical German post-college drink. It tasted nasty, but sort of chemically enticing. Maybe a little cough syrupy?

Sunday was BORING because Sunday's are ALWAYS boring in Germany because nothing is open and everyone wears quilted barn jackets and orthopedic shoes as they take their Sunday strolls. We live by old people.

Get into the groove

2008-09-11T07:39:00.000-07:00

Madonna was here two nights ago. Tickets cost 300 E a pop, which is like $500 and the Germans paid out for Madge. I hope she didn't flash a picture of A.H. when she does her montage of starving children/George Bush stage show.

I've been back to Germany for one week and even though I am currently entrenched in a battle with fruit flies in our tiny apartment, I feel jet-lag free. Today a student asked me if I liked die Barrakuda. She meant Sarah Palin, and then she told me that the Wilson sisters of Heart were upset by Palin's use of "Barracuda" at the RNC. Really? I just googled, and sadly my student knew more about this topic than me. Anyway, I don't think the Wilson sisters should be taking their politics too seriously, they are, after all, members of the band Heart. And Heart is exactly the type of music I think Palin would like. I don't mean that in any other way than as a fact. I dig her Tina Fey of the Tundra vibe.

I sent my request for my absentee ballot in this week. Minnesota is super high-tech and apparently I can get an email ballot and then mail it in. I'll bring it in to show my students, they are more jazzed about this election than me.

Besides fruit flies and watching cnn.com news videos every night (they're like our version of a Fireside Chat) I have been obsessed with reading food blogs. My renewed culinary enthusiasm is due to the fact that in 19 days I get an oven!

These are the most interesting:

For dinner ideas-
http://pinchmysalt.com/
http://expatriateskitchen.blogspot.com/
http://www.cookingforengineers.com/
http://www.lastnightsdinner.net/
http://smittenkitchen.com/

When I can bake!
http://momsbest.blogspot.com/
http://chocolateandzucchini.com/

Back to Business

2008-09-06T02:28:00.001-07:00

Hello blog readers, I'm back from my two-week hiatus in the States. I didn't blog there because I was too busy driving cars and putting purchases on credit cards. Viva la Minnesota!

I'm still shaking off the dregs of jet-lag, but mostly I'm just grateful for how easy our trip was. Staying at the spacious American homes of your parents', with ovens and multiple toilets was surreal.

We went to the Fair and ate Mini Donuts, Cheese Curds, Sweet Martha's, et. al. We saw friends, saw lakes, saw mountains, and saw Nirvana in the form of the Highland Park Barnes & Nobel.

Erik got attacked by tear gas while looking for protesters at the RNC. I got attacked by heavy feelings after watching Beau Biden talk about his dead mom at the DNC. We met T-Paw at the Fair before we were sideswept by the Tina Fey mit Kinder candidate... it was nothing if not a political trip. If I heard my mother shout "Mama for Obama" one more time into the TV screen, I may have been back to Germany a week earlier.

And of course, we attended the other Grell brother's wedding to the lovely and well-read Amanda. It was so funky up there in the mountains, there were even white buffalo, which are supposed to be sacred according to "Dances With Wolves." And, there was square dancing: perfect wedding activity, anyone could follow the instructions and if you didn't want to dance it was entertaining just to watch.

So now we're back home, which is surprisingly okay. I got on the U-Bahn after the airport and smelled that nasty/awesome subway smell, I noted which movies were playing here now on the yellow posters, I even missed my German 1.8 % fat milk.

I do however miss my family, and their newfound love of Blokus, the best board game ever.

Score one for Germany!

2008-08-19T11:07:00.001-07:00

Germany, unlike Italy or France, doesn't get a lot of love from American celebrities. No one comes here to get married, have a baby, or hang out with George Clooney. Even though we have mountains, beaches, and cosmopolitan cities, the only movies filmed here have to do with the big H. Sometimes Royals come skiing here, but that really doesn't count.

But news my blog readers: I was visiting Courtney in Berlin this past weekend. On Saturday we got high on the splendor that is the KaDeWe makeup floor. (KaDeWe is the biggest, most fantastic, most glorious department store in Germany) Then we had the best falafel in Berlin, DaDa, then we showered and went out. It was during my second Astra beer at the Pony Bar in Mitte that I heard the life-changing news. A British man sitting next to me was telling his friend that he had word that BRANGELINA are in the process of moving to the ultra-hip, former East Prenzlauerberg district. My ears went up like a short haired pointer's. Could it be?

Yes, apparently. Brad is filming the new Quentin Tarantino in Berlin and is moving the clan there. Score Germany!

I know that the rest of the blog post will be moot after that news, but there are some more updates in our life here. On Friday we go home(s) for 2 weeks for primarily the State Fair, and secondarily to see friends and family. I'm dreaming of the Midway. The last week has been a revolving door at our apartment as we've been showing it to possible renters. Showing your apartment abroad is like going to war. You have to lie to the public (yes, a washing machine fits in the bathroom!) to keep your approval ratings up. You also have to deal with foreigners whose culture you don't understand (cue Japanese man who refused to walk on our Ikea carpet with his shoes on). It's intense.

Trying to be post-race

2008-08-13T04:05:00.000-07:00

I have a new class of 4 teenagers every Tuesday night. They are in Gymnasium, which is like smart kid's high school, and taking English. Their parents are making them take extra English lessons with me, and on the first Tuesday they told me they didn't want to be there. 'Chore' was the word they used to describe why they were there. They also told me they did not like reading, writing, playing games, doing grammar worksheets or watching films (?!) in English. They gave me a lot to work with.

Anyway, all four students were born in Korea but raised in Germany (parents got transfered here) and thus are perfectly bilingual and great with languages. I thought that this sort of biculturalism would make them different than most Germans who answer my getting-to-know you question 'What kind of music do you like?' with the dreaded 'Black people music.'

Yes, that's actually what Germans, and the Korean teenagers, say if they listen to any music produced in America. I am always a little stunned by this response. I don't think I would ever win a politically correct award, but c'mon? If there is one cultural area where race blurs it's in music. 'Black' music is rock n roll, jazz, rap, hip-hop, soul... all music also performed by whites, Asians, and Latinos. It's coming up on 50 years since Elvis ''stole'' black music.. I mean, if these kids liked to watch movies I'd play them ''8 Mile.''

Anyway, yesterday I thought I would outsmart them and get them to see for themselves how ludicrous (Ludacris!) it is to racially define music. Like a dork, I brought in pictures of Jimi Hendrix and Prince (black rock), and also German rappers Fettes Brot (white rap) and had them descripe what type of music each performer played. They looked at Fettes Brot and said 'Black music,' they looked at prince and said 'Black music.' Then I went into a long-winded monologue about how it's imporatnt to be color blind, and post-race, and how it's wrong of the German press to always call Obama the ''new black Kennedy,'' instead of just, ''the new Kennedy,'' but I lost them. After I came up for air, I noticed that all four were texting under the table.

Next week I'm making them do grammar worksheets.

The Magnificent 7

2008-08-10T04:03:00.000-07:00

The Olympics are here, and even though it sucks having to watch German athletes featured on TV I am glued to the coverage in Beijing (Peiking). Michael Phelps has already stunned me, and I can't wait for gymnastics qualifying to start later today.

I am a loyal Olympics watcher, and do not discriminate between winter and summer games. For me, the most formative Olympics were Atlanta, summer 1996. I was 11 years old. It was during these games, when my parents allowed me to bring the kitchen TV into my bedroom, that I watched the Magnificent 7 take the USA's first gold in team gymnastics. Those little munchkins were such freaks of nature, but man, with their hair glitter, ankle injuries, and "Devil Went Down to Georgia" floor routines, I became obsessed.

Dominique Dawes, Moceanu, Amy Chow, Keri Strug, Shannon Miller (the best!), Jacey Phelps, and Amanda Borden.

And of course you had Bela Karolyi coaching and Svetlana Khorkina competing for the Russians. She was that tall, old blond girl who always looked like she was going to cry.

I am not a hiker

2008-08-05T11:32:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay... with working extra hours whilst colleagues are on vacation and trying to clean our apartment for showings, I've had little time to update the blog.

It's August in the 'Furt which means back to school. These poor Europeans only get 6 weeks of summer and each of Germany's 16 states has staggered vacation schedules so as not to clog the Autobahns wit traveling families. School started in Hessen, my state, yesterday. I love riding the U-bahns with kids again. A) Their backpacks are so bright, square and colorful, I love coveting them. B) Sitting next to a clean 9 year old is infinitely more pleasing at 8 a.m. than a a homeless person drinking a beer.

On Friday the last weekend of summer was celebrated in the 'Furt by a street fair on the Main. It was fun, but nothing compared to my beloved Fair. The food at a typical German streetfest leans a little too far to the "salty dry goods' right for me. Plenty of popcorn and toasted nuts, but nary a French fry/cheese curd stand/milkshake stand.

Saturday saw me attempting to be sportlich by hiking in the Bergstrasse, a beautiful wine-growing region south of Germany that features vineyard-lined mountains and cute towns. We climbed up the Starkberg in Heppenheim. The climb was steep and at the top there was a castle. Castles are so disappointing in sunlight: They look old and bleached, nothing remotely Vampire-ish about them. I'm getting jaded: Once you live in a country where castles are every few kilometers, it's hard to get jazzed. Heppenheim was also hosting a Krewe a rite of passage in the small villages of the Odenwald. Town boys, 16 and up, get together for a big drinking fest. The Bergstrasse is very "Deliverance."

We also visited Rimbach and Weinheim before returning to the big city.

The life boat

2008-07-28T11:52:00.000-07:00

I really love television.

I loved it before I moved abroad but recently I realized how much deeper my love has grown in light of the expat experience. Don't get me wrong, I still think books do more for my brain and thanks to at least an hour on subways per day I go through many a Bildungsroman (German word!) but this post sings the prises of the boob tube.

Telvsion DVDs are life boats for ex-pats, especially ones like me who just can't handle watching "Two and a Half Men" dubbed in German. Erik agrees and so luckily I've had a partner in crime. Since January we've watched:

Heroes: Season 1
Veronica Mars: Season 1
Mad Men: Season 1
Entourage: Seasons 1 and 2
Californication: Season 1
24: Season 6

Clearly the winner here is Mad Men, and thanks to itunes we can purchase season 2's episode each week. The writing, the ad campaigns, the style, that horribly sad moment when Peggy tries to do the Twist with Pete... this show can't be beat. Others were less than stellar, including Heroes (screw the cheerleader) and Entourage Season 1.

Should I be embarrassed that this is pushing 100 hours of TV?

No, I live in Germany for gosh sake's. What else am I supposed to do?

Pics from Amsterdam

2008-07-24T12:06:00.000-07:00

Better late than never... look at our cool beer, and cheese, and canals!

Obama ist gekommen

2008-07-24T11:14:00.000-07:00

The Obama speech just happened, and the political pundits are doing the analysis on German N24, our CNN.

200,000 people stood in the Tiergarten between the Siegesaeule (the gold tower under which Obama stood) and the Bradenberg Gate. Obama came on after about 15 minutes of "Yes We Can!" chants and then began his 35 minute speech. It was the largest crowd Obama has every spoken in front of.

The Germans were spilling the purple Kool-Aid all over themselves.

And why not? Obama came out like "ein Popsuperstar" and managed to be both thoroughly fawning ("If any city knows hope... it's Berlin") and stars-and-stripey (thanks for the Wikihistory of the Airlift!) He laid the foundation for asking for more troops in Afghanistan, then softened the blow with a call to end nuclear weaponry. He even managed to squeeze in a future reference about Iran and get cheers..... largely because the comment was sandwiched in between laments over melting ice caps. The speech was full of these one-two sweet contradictions and through it all the crowd cheered at appropriate pauses. Over and over again Obama kept bringing up the friendship between America and Europe, the friendship, nay, partnership that began in our fair Hauptstadt.

But still, I would be a liar if I didn't say I thought that speech was cool, and even more cool because it was in a city that defines cool, that manages to be hip and sad at the same time (hip+sad= cool). And Obama is certainly the coolest man we've ever had run for president: According to my latest perusing of people.com, he's taking his daughter to see "WALL-E" for her birthday. That's pretty cool.

I still may be protesting no thirst when the paper cup is passed my way, but I won't deny coolness. Besides, McCain recently admitted that he won't use e-mail. Brother is old, and if there's one thing America has taught the world: Old is not cool.

Amsterdam

2008-07-21T06:30:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay in blogging, but I was in Amsterdam this last week with my friend Courtney.

I had always wanted to go to Amsterdam because it used to be the traditional NWA portal into Europe, and I often wished I could get out at Schipol and go see the city when flights were delayed. Courtney and I took the train this time, and it is only about a 4 hour trip, with a transfer in Cologne, to the capital of the Netherlands.

The Dutch are an amazingly friendly and happy people, and most stereotypes about them prove pleasantly true: They are prodigious bike riders. They are tall, blond, and most embody the quality of being "ruddy-cheeked." They like cheese and beer. They speak better English than the characters on The Hills.

In all, they were friendly hosts, and far from feeling like I was in some moral danger zone, I felt like I was in Europe's most water-drenched, un-bombed, gem of a city.

It rained most our trip, but, aside from an obligatory canal boat ride, most Amsterdam activities can be done in doors. The Van Gogh museum and the Anne Frank House were amazing. The entrance line at the Frank house wraps around the block consistently, so any visitor has to wait an hour minimum-- but it's worth it. The building is haunting but subtle, and really moving. We especially enjoyed the excited preteens (many Amis) roaming the premises with a keen interest, surely developed after a recent reading of The Diary of a Young Girl. The Van Gogh museum meets expectations, and I learned that Vincent shot himself in the chest! What? I always thought he died of consumption/syphilis! Did other people know this?

We wanted to go on the Heineken brewery tour, but they were renovating, so instead we capitalized on a dry two hour block to board the "Lover's" boat tour. Oddly named, but fun. I am a sucker for any and all boat tours, especially when they show me weird things, like these hooks that Amsterdaminan row houses have on the top window to hoist furniture into the steep buildings. I love those tidbits.

Besides sight-seeing, Courtney and I enjoyed the food and drink of the city. Amsterdam is a pancake city, and we had both sweet and savory for non-breakfast meals. We also had little pancakes coated in a magic butter and sugar sauce. They are called Poffertijes, and they are probably laced with heroin.

And finally: We discovered the best bar on earth. Seriously, the bartenders tell you exactly what to drink, they only carry Belgium and Dutch beers on tap (over 200 types in bottle) and they serve your drinks with Dutch cheese. I can't even begin to share how cool this place is, but here is the website.

http://www.cafegollem.nl/

Obama ist mein Fuehrer

2008-07-10T13:00:00.000-07:00

This was a t-shirt I saw the other day walking down the Fressgasse. A large German man was stretching the cotton to unseemly proportions but there it was: Obama's face with the phrase "Obama is my leader" emblazoned under it.

The Germans (and most Europeans) began their love affair with "Der Schwarze Kennedy" (the black Kennedy) almost a year ago, and many of my students brought up Obama's upcoming campaign stop to the Fatherland in class this week.

If I were a German, I would have a little resentment towards Obama's campaign bringing its "Yes we can!" patriotism to my country (Obama will be in Berlin on the 24th). I get the whole global village idea but don't Germans see the brassy attitude displayed in this visit? Obama is saying, "Hey Deutschland, pay attention because I may be the president in a few months and we all know your lives are dictated by that possibility." It's a little brash. But what's even more brash is Obama's presumptive choice of speech locale: the Bradenberg Gate. Long a symbol of the Cold War and made famous by Reagan's "Mr. Gorbachev, take down this wall bit" in 1987, the Gate is arguably the most important public space in Germany. So why do our candidates get to make stump speeches there? Isn't this event, with its pomp, publicity, and sound exactly what they don't like about us?

Some Germans, like Angie, agree with me. But others raise an interesting counter-argument: America helped save Berlin, so the Gate is as much our symbol as anyone else's. What's interesting is that this pro-America argument is coming from the left... would they be so willing to lend the candidate their backdrop if he was associated with "Mr Bush?" It's also coming from Berlin's mayor, a man who looks at a very poor, underpopulated city and probably sees Obama's visit as a ka-ching, ka-ching photo op.

I asked my students their opinions and they welcomed the use of the Gate. Again, they said that it's hard for them not to see Berlin as a proxy American city, so why not? Plus, they said, Obama is so young. And his wife is so stunning. And he has two little girls. And, he's not Bush. They've got a crush on Obama.

In Other Berlin-Ami news, the new American embassy opened up on July, 4. George Bush Sr. (who the Germans like), was in attendance. The embassy is located right next to the Gate, in the most prime real estate in the city: 100 yards away from the Reichstag, 50 feet from the former wall, 100 feet from the Murdered Jews monument, and half a block away from that hotel where MJ dangled his baby.

Read this article about Obama in Deutschland:
http://www.dw-world.de/dw/article/0,2144,3473664,00.html

Mistaken Identity

2008-07-05T04:57:00.001-07:00

Even though soccer ended last week I can't get over how much the Portugal coach looked like Gene Hackman. In fact, I think it was Hackman, "Hoosiers" style.

Happy 4th of July!

2008-07-05T04:25:00.000-07:00

Nothing is more depressing than celebrating a national holiday in a foreign land.

Yesterday was the 4th of July and even though I made all my students learn holiday vocab ("parade," "sparklers," "stars and stripes") no one was really excited. The Germans aren't too big on national holidays and understandably so: Their country day is Oct. 3, Reunification Day of East and West. Too bad Reunification didn't actually happen on Oct. 3. Most argue that Reunification day is Nov. 9, 1989 when the Wall came down. But Nov. 9, 1938 was Kristallnacht, the night of broken glass when Nazis attacked synagogues and Jewish businesses...so, Oct. 3 it is.

This week has been major for our lives here in Germany. I got permission/acceptance to become a Gaststudentin at the Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Univeristaet starting next semester! I will be taking Master's seminars in Americanistik and I even have an academic adviser named Bernd. Bernd rocks. He's obsessed with the idea of American space and the Western frontier. I went in for a meeting with him and he had sickeningly good English. Granted, he lived in Boston for 4 years, but he actually said stuff like "No problemo," and "Man, hot enough for you?"

We also found a perfect new apartment, with.... drumroll... an OVEN! It's also in a much better neighborhood, Sachsenhausen, and it's in a pre-war Altbau house. And it has a bay window. I can't get too excited since we still have to get approved by the landlords but I am jazzed for the potential move.

While Courtney and I were at our regular quiz pub on Thursday evening something sweet happened, and I guess it sort of embodied the spirit of Independence Day one day early. We were sitting and a group of Germans started talking to us. A woman at the table asked where we were from and when we said Minnesota she exclaimed, "I knew it!" Turns out, she spent 1986-87 living in Hastings, and she said our accents made her "feel at home," which is just about the nicest complimet you can give a person. Then, she started talking about her Homer Hanky and Kirby Puckett. It is a small, America-dominated world after all.

Que Triste, Vienna Calling

2008-06-29T14:57:00.000-07:00

We lost. After beating Turkey, Portugal and Poland we (and by "we" I mean, Germans, which means the people I live near but don't really talk to) lost the Euro 2008 to Spain.

Boring 'ol Spain.

Que triste. Maybe if this was 1492 or 1936, I'd be thinking "whoa, Spain, watch out," but instead I was snoozing. The game was neither political nor all that tense and I wish Schweinsteiger or Podolski had saved some of their sparkle for the later games. Oh well.

We watched the last two games of the tournament underneath a bridge on the Main. A beer garden with a white screen, benches, and a drinks hut was set up over abandoned train tracks. It was a great public viewing crowd: not too rowdy but ready to cheer at appropriate times. For both Wednesday's game and tonight's game the weather was a perfect 80 degrees and sunny, and looking out onto the river I felt so lucky to be able to live in a country with open bottle laws.

So no more soccer. This will be a big hole in my life. For the last three weeks there was always something to talk to strangers about, something to watch on TV, something to drink to. Sports are the great equalizers, the great national conversations. Tonight, Frau Merkel, or as I call her, Angie, was cheering in the stadium in Vienna, surely not more than 50 yards away from someone with their chest in grease paint and a German flag-colored afro. Soccer is enjoyed by both presidents and plebeians.

Childless Europe

2008-06-28T01:33:00.000-07:00

The NYTimes magazine is on a role for me. Last week, Mad Men, and this week, "No Babies?" exploring the "lowest-low fertility rates" in modern Europe. This topic never fails to intrigue me...

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/29/magazine/29Birth-t.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

Mediocre at best

2008-06-24T10:28:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my favorite student, the one who I have three times per week kept saying "childs" instead of "children," and all I could think is, "I have failed you."

I have been teaching for over 5 months, living here for over 6, and sometimes I feel like I am not improving my language acquisition or the language acquisition of others. I feel like things are a bit stagnant and I wonder if I have officially left my honeymoon period with Germany. Sure, football (big game Wednesday!) still keeps the flame burning, but maybe Germany and I need to work harder on our relationship. Maybe the problem is summer, or the fact that the charm of living in an apartment without an oven has worn off.

I've been trying to liven up my lesson plans, making my own Taboo cards (try to get people to say "Titanic" without using "ship," 'iceberg," "accident," "Leo," or "movie") and using provocative National Geographic photos (young Asian women with guns! Snow Leopards!) to work on description and vocab, but I'm afraid it's a losing battle. My students still say "become" when they mean "get" and "meaning" when the mean "opinion."* And my own German is poop. I've reached a plateau where I can understand 80% more than what I can speak and I can never remember the verb I need in a conversation.

But for all the bloggy complaints there are some major improvements in my life. Namely, we got a coffee maker, and I've resumed a regimen of arm-pumping fitness walking with my friend Courtney. Today we walked by what was clearly a "males only" section on the banks of the Main river. I saw a 65 year-old man in a red thong bikini bottom. He was lying about on his stomach, waving his feet in the air like a little coquette. It was my daily high.

I am EAGERLY awaiting Season 2 of "Mad Men." OH MY GOD PEGGY!!!!

* These are what we call "false friends" in the language world. In German, the verb to get/receive is bekommen, so when Germans often say "become" when they mean "get." Same goes for the German word meinung, which means "opinion" but sounds like "meaning." Tricky business.

Germany in the Final Four!

2008-06-21T04:38:00.001-07:00

Goddamn I love the drama of sports! In fact, I haven't felt so jazzed about a game since my senior year of high school when the Twins were in the pennant race...

Anyway, Germany played a marvelous 3-2 game against Portugal on Thursday and it was so thrilling. The Portuguese players are such Lacy Lovelaces: Rolling around on the ground when a German brushed up against them, covering their mouths in agony at the mere appearance of a cleat, etc. Thank goodness the Germans weren't distracted, they finally played a cohesive game. Then last night the game to determine our halb-finale partner was played: Turkey vs. Croatia. It was an utterly boring game, no score after 90 mins, but then Croatia scored, then Turkey scored, and then they had to go into a shoot out. Turkey won, and it was one of the more exciting victories I have ever seen! There are over 8 million Turks living in Germany and thus the street celebrations after the game were insane: Fireworks, flags, drums, Mediterranean pubescents with beer.

Other news pales in comparison to soccer, but we had a visitor in my mother this week. It was so good to have family here, but the weather was scheisse and there's only so much to do in the 'Furt. We went to the gorgeous botanical gardens, the Palmengarten. Unfortunately, this trip was made after seeing "The Happening." I am so afraid of plants.

My other highlight of the week was going to an art opening with Katie We were so out of place, seeing that our main goal was to sample every free dessert and appetizer they were offering. The event was for a new modern photography exhibit at the Staedel called "Warhol malt night," (Warhol doesn't paint). The photos were great but what was even better was the entertainment. A dashing man in a black suit and jaunty white hat played the piano. He sang really cheesy songs, like "Night Fever," in this jazzy, sexy way. I piked up his card after the event, and his name was printed as "Dr. Feelgood Jr." I kid you not.

Katie left for NYC today, I am too sad to write anymore.

Warning: dirty article

2008-06-10T11:46:00.003-07:00

Germany is so racy. I see this book in the store everyday and I like its Band-Aid on the cover. My friend Kerry sent me this link because it uses my favorite phrase, "national conversation." Yes!

Read this:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/06/world/europe/06taboo.html?scp=10&sq=wetlands&st=nyt

EM Fever

2008-06-10T11:17:00.000-07:00

I thought I didn't like soccer. Or rather, I never gave soccer a chance because I assumed that it was a sport only to be enjoyed by those who at one time or another experienced a political dictatorship. But I'm wrong, I do like soccer, and even I wouldn't call Jesse "The Body" a diktator.

On Saturday the European Championship begin. Europe's 16 best national teams play each other in brackets of 4 over the course of 3 weeks, winnowing down to a final game. So far, there are two games (each bracket) played per night.

I am rooting for Germany, but only marginally. The Swedish fans wear very funny little hats with blue feathers, and I feel my loyalties pulling me northward. Anyway, what I like about these games is what I like about the Olympics or the World Series: They contribute to a national conversation, nay, a continental conversation that takes place on the streets. On Sunday I was alone at home during the Germany game and before I turned on the TV I heard my entire neighborhood burst into cheer. The Germans had scored, and a mere open street-facing window told me that! How great.

Besides soccer, this past week has been exciting because my great friends Ben and Megan came to visit us in the 'Furt. They were the easiest guests to have, and not only did they bring up Oreos and Real Simple magazine, they brought Cribbage. I am walking around saying "15 for 2."

Must go watch soccer.

Feist and MFAs

2008-06-05T00:23:00.000-07:00

Summer is officially here in Frankfurt and the city is hopping, well, in a Frankfurt-y sort of way. the Fressgasse, the main "eat street" of the 'Furt is having a food and wine fest all week with bands, outdoor seating, etc. I went there this weekend and had some delicious strawberiies in Appelwoi and listened to a really, really, heavily accented German sing "Sittin' On the Dock of the Bay." Please Germans, leave soul music alone.

On Sunday I saw Feist at the Jarhuderthalle concert hall with all of four of my friends. It was a good concert. feist was weird as ever, dressed like Stevie Nicks, white fringe and all. Her voice sounded great and she amused the crowd with some anecdotes about her years living in Berlin. One hilaroius/distracting/too-cute-for-indie-words note: Feist's version of a pyrotechnic show was to have some girls finger paint on a large projector behind the stage. They finger painted waves and hearts. It was something a two-year old could do, but my friend Courtney was probably right when she whispered to me, "These girls probably have MFAs." Their poor parents.

Obama crazy here this morning, he is on the cover of every German newspaper and all over the news screens in the train stations. I'm so glad that he's won the nomination because I cannot explain to my students anymore about the difference between primaries and caucuses.

I have visitors this week! More updates soon.

Peiking snooze

2008-05-27T06:45:00.000-07:00

I overestimated German's excitement about the upcoming Olympic games. And by overestimated, I simply mean I thought that the Germans might actually muster up a little umlauted buzz about the games. I thought that they would have some sort of TV personality like Bob Costas covering the events, and maybe his name would be Helmut Spitter or something. I thought that I would be constatly seeing commercials for Olympics coverage and hear beer-soaked German Olympic cheers spring forth from crowded sports bars. But alas, I hear and see nothing. In fact, the only excitement I see about Beijing comes from the discarded McDonalds' cups lining the U-Bahn track.

But now I know why. Some German students looked at me quizically the other day when I mentioned the big games. ''Beijing?'' they asked. I told them it was the Olympic city, and the said, ''Oh, you mean Peiking!.'' How can I teach these people prepositions when we can't even agree on a common name for China's second largest city?

I was under the impression that Germans ate up athletic competitions, espcially the geopolitical kind. The country hosted the two most politically significant games (Belin '36, Munich '72) and just played host to the 2005 World Cup (ugh, I hate myself for even mentioning fußball on my blog. yuck.) But these are buzz-resistant people.

It is hot here. Like 90 degrees and really humid, feuch, and all of the little German Eis Cafes (ice cream parlors) sell one scoop for € 0.80. It's the one affordable thing in this town.

Back from Berlin

2008-05-26T02:34:00.000-07:00

Just got back from six days in Berlin, surely the best city in continental Europe. Where else can you see men in puple leggings pushing strollers through the ruins of socialism? Erik and I went there last week because we had even more archaic Christian holidays to celebrate, and we met Erik's brother in the big city.

We did all sorts of really touristy stuff. We walked down the Unter den Linden towards the Reichstag, visited Checkpoint Charlie, and went to the Pergamon museum.

The two highlights of the trips though were decidedly ''un-Berlin'' moments. The first came on Thursday night when we scalped tickets to see Vampire Weekend at Maria's, a river-side rock club in the industrial area by the Ostbanhof. The people watching, especialy the American college kids who were trying their hardest to look German, was spot-on at this club.

The second event was our attempt to see the new ''Indiana Jones'' in English. There are plenty of English theaters in Berlin, so when we looked online and saw that it was playing at a place called the Babylon, we felt optimistic. We asked a waiter where the Babylon was and he gave us clear directions that led us to the theater after 20 mins on the U-Bahn. Too bad it was the wrong Babylon. Turns out there was an East and a West Babylon theater. We raced to the other one and were only 10 mins late. Indy was waiting for us.

Now it's back to work in the 'Furt.

My best students like Monty Python and...

2008-05-15T08:23:00.000-07:00

... are never Germans. Lately, I've realized it's Turkish and Polish/Russian students who are the most willing to participate in class, review vocab, and actually try to learn English. I don't know what accounts for this. Perhaps because English is their third or fourth language these students are more relaxed about the learning process; they don't get frustrated if challenged with difficult reading or do poorly on a quiz. But with Germans it's another story; I've had so many run-ins/disagreements with really great adult German students who complain about how slow their language skills are improving. I try to explain that even with 90 minutes per week they have to devote a lot of free time to English is they really want to perfect it. They have none of this, they have "no time." That's fine, but then don't blame me if you forget the meaning of "exception."

Anyway, I had an uplifting moment on Tuesday with one class, a group of architects, many of whom are Russian or Polish. They only have three sessions left and so I asked them what they would like to do for their last month of class last week. Their answer: Watch "Monty Python" clips with a native speaker so they can understand the nuances of "the Flying Circus." I thought they were kidding but when I came to class on Tuesday I found a movie projector in the conference room and one student passing out hand-transcribed scripts to the group. It was so fun! They were laughing so hard at "Story Time," especially when I explained the dirty stuff about transvestites in British sea ports. And I had an extra proud moment explain that SPAM is manufactured in Austin, MN. This was a class that already knew (from my raving) that MN was also the birthplace of Post-It Notes. They were doubly impressed.

I am not a dedicated blogger

2008-05-10T09:15:00.004-07:00

To all 3 of my dedicated readers: Sorry for the absence!

I wish I could say the last 10 days have been filled with adventure or travels, and thus I couldn't find time to blog. But, alas, I was simply in the 'Furt feeling the malaise of summer and not doing a whole lot of anything.

A few updates:

Last weekend we went to IKEA and bought a couch! Yes! No more air mattress for us. The chenille moss-colored Sofabett is a real treat, and that coupled with my new straw place settings really made the hellish 5 hour trek to the Swedish store worth it. Thinking about it, I wonder if I could actually get to Sweden in 5 hours and go to the original IKEA outpost. In the 'Furt, for the car-less, the journey is never-ending because one must rely on 3 forms (U-bahn, train, bus) of public transportation.

In addition to the couch, we got locked out of our apartment on Wednesday and Erik had to jump from our neighbor's balcony, Indiana Jones-style, to our balcony in order to crawl through the open window. This "adventure" also took 5 hours (most of them filled with the sweat-drenched consultations on the remove-ability of our door knob with our Czech manlord), which leads me to develop a new theory that everything in Europe takes 5 hours. Note: Never stick your keys on the inside of your door in Europe and then proceed to shut said door while asking "Do you know where my keys are?"

Finally, my work schedule has been pleasantly spotty due to the 3 Feiertage, or public holidays, in May. Because of these off days (one being this Monday) many students plan vacations to Spain or Miami in May. Germans love to travel to Spanish-speaking lands. This is an unfortunate fixation because nothing sounds worse than a German trying to pronounce the soft melodies of the Spanish language. Nothing.

Speaking of the Spanish language, last night Ms. Henly had a Cinco de Mayo fiesta in Sachsenhausen. My homemade guac just made me pine for Chipotle even more. *Sigh.

It's 80 degrees here and way too many German men are wearing tank tops on the U-Bahn.

Munich is so much more...

2008-04-30T05:34:00.000-07:00

...than that super creepy sex scene in Spielberg's epic of the same name.

Last weekend I went down to Germany's golden city with my friend Courtney because Erik was working down there. It was so fun, and was the most beautiful stop on my April 2008 tour of Gross Germania.

Munich looks more like an Italian city than anything else. Although we bombed 80 % of it, the reconstruction efforts (led by Americans, dirt off our collective shoulders) were spectacular. Most buildings look like they were part of the original beer-brewing Monks' designs, and the city squares are clean and always protected my big golden lions. Because Munich was/is Bavaria's capital and home to its royal family, the city is dotted with gorgeous gardens and palaces. From the Residenz to the Nymphenberg Castle, the city oozes charm.

It also oozes beer.

This too was a highlight of the trip. Beer, beer everywhere and many drops to drink. The Biergarten is the greatest cultural contribution Munich has given the world, and I could not believe the amount of people at the Chinesiche Turm in the Englischer Garten on a Saturday's dusk (The Garden is bigger than Central Park and three times the size of Hyde). It was a party. Throw in a couple of Butterbreze (pretzels sliced like bagels and spread with melted butter in the middle) and you've got the happiest place on earth.

We took a really great Mike's Bike Tour, ate Weiswurst at the Hofbrohaus, saw the monument to Hans and Sophie Scholl, sat on the beaches of the Isar river, shopped the food markets, walked the grounds of the castle and saw the awesome exhibits at the Moderne Pinakothek , Munich's newest art museum. We stayed at a great youth hostel, and although it was crowded with hyper Italian teens*, it was pretty snazzy as hostels go.

Check for pictures later tonight, when I figure out how to download them.

* I'm in the process of developing a theory on Italian teens. I think they go through hyper adolescence: They are the most loud, the most outrageously dressed, the most curiously coiffed, and the most flirtatious of any teen group in the world. Note, this theory is largely being based on my one stay at the youth hostel, but seriously, I've never seen such teens. And the girls! There may have been a handful of super beautiful girls in my high school at 15, but most of us were (still am) awkward-looking. Not Italian girls! They all look like 28 year-old Art Gallery personnel.

The neurotic city

2008-04-24T12:04:00.000-07:00

Last week Erik and I joined Flash Video, our neighborhood rental place. It is possibly the most ghetto rental spot in all of the 'Furt. It operates out of a corner in an abandoned office building, and when you walk in you see the owner's senile father sitting in a lawn chair, laughing and watching a dubbed version of "The Kingdom," or "Cheaper By the Dozen 2." The owner only comes out after a few tense minutes. He's like the Wizard when he pops out from behind an old- fashioned counter and says "Guten Abend!" which I hear as, "Well that's a horse of a different color!" Needless to say, I've never ventured to Flash Video alone.

But, alas, we need to rent movies sometimes, so we go. Besides Grandad, Flash's most distinguishing feature is its absolute chaos. DVDs are arranged in no order, and you can find "Raising Helen" in New Releases (that movie came out in like, 2004) next to "The Birds." Sometimes kids movies are mixed in with adult features and there is whole wall of super-duper-ultra-violent PS2 games.

We rented "American Gangster" last night and as Erik was paying I looked at the titles and noted how poorly some translated into German. My favorite was a copy of "Annie Hall," which was renamed "Die Stadtneurotiker." Or the Neurotic City. Germans take everything, including Woody Allen, way too literally.

But Rose is not real...

2008-04-20T01:43:00.001-07:00

Earlier this week I went with Henly to the train station. I wanted to purchase my ticket for Munich, and I needed Henly in case the German got fancy and I accidentally ought myself a ticket to Moscow.

The ticket purchasing was going well. Our "consultant" was your typical Deutsche Bahn worker: He had a noticeable lazy eye. When he asked for my identification, I whipped out my MN driver's license and he smiled and asked us:

"Minnesota, aber nicht St. Olaf, oder?" Which means, "Minnesota, but not St. Olaf, right?"

To which we replied:

"Doch! Ja, St. Olaf!" Which means, "No, you're wrong, yes St. Olaf!"

And then he said what every Oles fears the most, that is, not a comment on our wonderful choir, but the inevitable reminder of our sitcom past:

"Ich mag Golden Girls." Which means, "I like the Golden Girls."

I didn't even know of the GG St. Olaf connection until I was well into my freshman year. Apparently, the Rose character (Betty White? Not the slutty Blanche lady, this show was not on my Nick at Nite roundup) was a farm girl from Iowa and went to St. Olaf. And not surprisingly, GG was popular in Germany, popular enough that our DB consultant told us he even googled St. Olaf to make sure it was real. He found our school website, but then solemnly reminded us that Rose didn't actually attend.

"Ja... wir wissen." Which means, "Yeah... we know."

Where's the shrapnel?

2008-04-15T12:34:00.000-07:00

In Switzerland they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.
-Orson Welles

So. I'm in the middle of my April travels across Germania, i.e. Central Europe, and just finished a three-day stint in the heart of Switzerland: Bern.

Here's what you need to know about Bern:
-It's language is German, but it's used in a crazy sing-songy way that makes all speakers sound like Medieval toddlers.
-The city is obsessed with brown bears, and houses two in a city zoo/monument called the Bärengraben.
-Movies shown here are are shown in OV (original version) but subtitled in both French and German... and in the middle of all movies there is an intermission! And not a nice paused intermission; just a regular slash job in the center reel.
- They have gourmet samples at their grocery stores on Saturday. We're talking silver ware, porcelain cups, etc., a far cry from a Dixie cup of Shasta and a toothpick skewered piece of cheddar cheese.

...And that's about it. Because Switzerland has so proudly been a peacefully state for over 600 years, there isn't a ton of passion, strife, or turmoil in its history, and cities like Bern show this permanent calm. None of the gorgeous middle ages sandstone was pockmarked with shrapnel and there were no monuments marking deportations, annexations, or general aggravations. It was nice.

But like most things that are nice and clean, Bern was a little boring. On Friday Erik and I celebrated his birthday with a tradition Swiss meal of Roesti (a pot of hashbrowns, vegetables, etc, baked with cheese on top) and then walked along the river Aar. On Saturday, we window shopped among the Brunnen (public fountains) of Bern, and found my new all-time favorite grocery chain: Vatter's (father's). See picture for sample info. Then we saw two films "Lars and the Real Girl" and "Once." I love capitalizing on OV movies.

On Sunday we went to the art museum of Bern and then to the famous bar pits. The weather was a balmy 65 degrees and it was the first time in months that we could eat outside. From there we caught one of the hourly shows of the Zytglogge, the famous cuckoo clock in the town center, before catching our train back north. We got back into the 'Furt on Sunday night and I looked at the ugly parts of my city with a new appreciation. At least we got some character.

Pictures!

2008-04-14T07:32:00.000-07:00

Holy Crap, I have to get disciplined about updating photos. Get ready for your eyeballs to explode... I'll go chronologically, beginning with my family's trip to the 'Furt.

From top: The beautiful Roemerburg in the heart of the 'Furt. Emily and Joe doing Down Dog to combat jet lag. Jen yucking it up with some Riesling.

Berlin Baby

2008-04-07T07:14:00.000-07:00

So this weekend took a group of Oles and assorted others to Berlin to watch Katie Henly run in Germany's largest half-marathon. It was the time of my life (that gets punny later in the blog entry.)

So Katie, John Morrow (living in France) and our token Brtish friend Catherine (diversity!) piled into a taxi cab-yellow rental car and left the 'Furt on Friday afternoon. We made it about 35 mins. before we realized we were going the wrong way, and once we found the right Autobahn, we were caught in some crazy Friday traffic. But! We ended up making friends on the Autobahn. Perhaps Germans feel friendly cameraderie when they are protected in their wagens, but there was plenty of window-down direction sharing going on on the A7. At one point some blonde chicks even asked us if we were going to Hamburg. They were looking to party.

The drive to Berlin should take 5 hours, but it took us 8. I only threatened to kill people once.

Once we got to the big B, things started rocking. We went to Zapatas for drinks and Da Da for fallafels at midnight and did some necessary drinking at the Siblerfisch bar. On Saturday, Katie gave us a professional tour of Berlin, reliving her summer career as a tour guide for the New Berlin outfit. She was spectacular: Surprising us with tidbits, pointing out where Katarina Witt lived in the DDR times, even making a 'fall of the Wall' story moving by mentioning that ''Dirty Dancing'' was playing on Nov. 9, 1989. We saw ecverything on our 4 hour tour, including Hitler's bunker, the memorial to Europe's murdered Jews, and the hotel where Michael Jackson hung his baby out of the window. I was so unprepared for how everchanging the landscape in Berlin was/is. I had last been there four years ago and it looked like a completley different city, although some things (the TV tower, the punky squats, the prostitutes wearing fanny packs) remained blissfully unchanged.

On Sunday was the big run and it was so much fun!!! We made signs, we yelled loud American things, we got stares from Germans on the route.... but it didn't matter! Katie did not die and in fact finished well within her goal time. It was inpiring.

Mad Men

2008-04-03T00:50:00.000-07:00

This blog doesn't generally veer into pop culture territory, which is a pity. This is mostly because I feel pretty removed from pop culture -- especially movies here -- and besides my weekly session at comingsoon.net to watch movie trailers, and my near-religious devotion to Germany's Next Top Model, I remain entertainment-free. I usually hate people like me, people who claim to ''not care'' about movies or those who say they ''don't really watch TV.'' Those people seem pretentious and are usually not very funny. They also don't read nearly as many books as they claim to.

So, I was really late to the party with Mad Men, the stylish drama about ad execs (''Madison Ave. Men'') in 1960. After reading about how the show, in its first season, won the Golden Globe, I decided to watch some episodes illegally... they were amazing. No other show has such sharp writing, inspired set design, or a light-handed touch with nostaligia... I'm officially obsessed.

Other than discovering MM, I'm getting back to normal this week after having two weeks of DNA visitors. Erik and I miss our familes but we've kept busy planning our April travels. This weekend, I head to Berlin to watch Henly run in a (half) MARATHON, next weekend is Bern for E's birthday, and two weeks after that is München!

I am conquering Germania.

Kein Bock, yo

2008-03-29T14:15:00.000-07:00

This week I was pleasured, er... tortured, by the company of 6 German 15 year-olds whose well-meaning but clueless parents had decided to sign them up for a week-long intensive English course. For 4 hours a day, I was supposed to entertain, educate, and enlighten these students who made it clear to me that they did want to spend Spring Break learning about suffixes, prefixes, or if clauses.

After day 1, I made the mistake of thinking that I could be cool and get the kids to like me. Horrible. Teenagers can smell desperation. I just embarrassed myself by teaching requests/demands with "cool" teaching tools like lyrics to "Keep the Car Running." It was pathetic, and afterwards the students rewarded me for my efforts my clicking their pens in unison until I had to yell at them to stop.

Up until the middle of the week, I thought I was just dealing with the universal apathy that coats many young teens, turning into the glassy-eyed mumblers so evoked in any sort of general griping about kids these days. But no, I was dealing with something else, what the German media has christened the Kein Bock generation. Just as Americans like to saddle every generation with some sociological title (I'm a Millennial, I think...) the Germans have labeled the current 14-20 years old as the generation without lust, passion, ambition, or interests. In other words, they have no mojo, which is what the slangy phrase Bock stands for.

I don't want to buy this because I think it's a little unoriginal; anyone who's every listened to the Beach Boys knows that teens have wanted to be left alone in their rooms to do nothing since time immemorial. But I have to admit that my batch of German teens seemed deeply disconnected. According to their answers to my unscientific inquiries, they have no interests in cars, music, romance, family, religion, sport, university, or money. They even declared MySpace and Facebook as being "done," and "over."

On Friday I gave up on being cool and just let them play Hangman for the last half-hour of class, and they lit up. Who cares about social networking, partying, studying, or playing in a rock band? All these Germans needed to get their Bock up was a piece of chalk and a stick figure, hanging dead on the board, over the word "annoying."

A family visit and a Frohe Ostern

2008-03-25T12:48:00.000-07:00

Frohe Ostern! Happy Easter from the snowy, windy, utterly November-like 'Furt. The weather here has been crazy over Holy Week, but I hardly had time to notice because my parents and sister popped over for a visit. From the minute my father deboarded the plane and started calling the Euro a Ruble, I knew that I was in for five days of DNA. I don't think anyone in my family has ever actually relaxed on a vacation, and so we filled our week with bus tours, trips to cathedrals, visits to historical houses, museums, and of course, Apfelwein bars.

This visit really showed my family in a new light. Some things I learned: we are really good at drinking, picking the crappiest bus tour a city has to offer, and producing a constant stream of hyperbole ("this is the coolest bar ever!""this is the 156th Starbucks we've seen today!" "this is the scariest pre-post war diorama of Frankfurt ever!" ) That, and that we would all benefit from some sort of horse tranquilizer.

But seriously, the visit was much-needed and both E and I cried when my mom and dad got in the Taxi this morning and did the whole "we're not sad, really" (can only be said with tears welling in the eyes) as they said their "see-you laters."

I plan to put up some pics later but here are some highlights to look forward to: A trip to Cologne, Heidelberg, J. Lo. throwin' down the Bimbel, and Emily and Joe doing some post-flight Down Dogs in my "minimalist" apartment.

Controversy strikes

2008-03-16T02:33:00.000-07:00

I'm sure Americans are all smug with their Spitzer sex scandal. It's obviously a delicious story, practically gift wrapped for "Saturday Night Live." But we Germans have been mired in a salacious story of our own: Aline, aged 20, is a contestant on the highly entertaining (and for me, educational) "Germany's Next Top Model bei Heidi Klum." This week, Heidi confronted her about some topless pics she found of Aline on the internet. Aline cried, Heidi scolded and the story was in all the papers.

I found this scandal doubly entertaining because nude picture are commonplace in Germany. Everyday, the largest national newspaper Das Bild has a different naked lady on their cover and little old grannies read it on the U-Bahn. At first I was shocked by this, but now it's gotten boring. I guess that's why I find Aline's story so interesting; It was almost like GNTM was trying to act more American by reacting to the photos this way. Because in America, Aline would probably become a much bigger celebrity after getting kicked off the show. She might even post her demos on her MySpace page, under "The Emperor's Club"....

The rest of the week...

2008-03-14T04:43:00.000-07:00

This week has been hectic, especially compared to my lovely sojourn in Bavaria. On Sunday we drove back from Nuremberg and stopped in Bamberg, Germany's "Little Rome." The city of 70,000 is built on seven hills and was barely touched during the war, so the buildings are postcard perfect. Erik and I went into a tavern to taste the local specialty Rauchbier (smoked beer) which is brewed over pine and pine wood. It tasted like bacon. So it tasted delicious.

The flu has hit the 'Furt so I ended up with a bunch of extra teaching gigs this week as my fellow English maestros took to their beds. I am exhausted to say the least, but I need to mentally prep for the my big family visit which comes in FIVE days. I cannot wait for the Soucherays to experience the 'Furt in all of it's rainy, partially landlocked glory! I have been perfecting my itinerary and planning our gastronomical outings; I'm so excited to be showing a new city to my family, it's like being the host of a party.

Also worth mentioning was the concert, Band of Horses, Erik and I saw late Tuesday night. Even though I had the pitted stomach because it was a school night, I couldn't get over how great this band sounded live! They were rocking and so much better than on their albums...

I'll leave this post with some pics of Bamberg and a list of my favorite German words I learned this week:

die Unterhaltung- conversation
laestig- annoying
der Spaziergaenger- someone who likes to go for strolls
Tieftauchen- deep-sea diving
die Saugluft- vacuum

Pictures from Nuremberg

2008-03-11T11:22:00.001-07:00

Nuremberg- my favorite city...

2008-03-09T14:42:00.000-07:00

So this weekend Erik and I went down to Nuremberg and Bamberg to explore Franconia, the northern part of Bavaria. Nuremberg is a gorgeous medieval city with a well-preserved Altstadt, red brick walkways, and enough history to knock your socks off. Nuremberg was once a seat of the Holy Roman Empire, so that's why Hitler chose it as the symbolic party center for the Third Reich. And with its walled city, its Gothic churches, and stone Bruecke, I understand how this city could be considered "the most German of all places," by the dictator. After 1933, the city became the site for all Nazi party rallies, and we toured the rally grounds Saturday afternoon. Located a few miles outside of the city, the rally grounds contain the largest Nazi buildings still in existence, and anyone who has seen The Triumph of the Will would recognize the Zeppelin field and Great Road where Hitler marched to the cheers of thousands. The museum attached to the ground, the Dokumentation Zentrum, was really thorough and very chilling.

After touring the party grounds we went to lunch in the city's Hauptmarkt, which stands in front of the Frauenkirche. We walked the Altstadt some more before eating a huge and amazing Bavarian dinner of Nuremberger sausages and Strudel. On Sunday we took a tour of the Nuremberg Trial courthouse, the site of the first International Military Tribunal held for crimes against humanity. Watching the film of Chief U.S. Prosecutor Robert Jackson question Rudolph Hess 5 feet from where the Nazi sat was surreal. Here are Jackson's opening remarks from November 21, 1945:

"The privilege of opening the first trial in history for crimes against the peace of the world imposes a grave responsibility. The wrongs which we seek to condemn and punish have been so calculated, so malignant, and so devastating, that civilization cannot tolerate their being ignored, because it cannot survive their being repeated. That four great nations, flushed with victory and stung with injury stay the hand of vengeance and voluntarily submit their captive enemies to the judgment of the law is one of the most significant tributes that Power has ever paid to Reason."

You would think that with all of this history Nuremberg would be a burdened city. But in fact, I found it to be one of the most vibrant, bustling, and happy places I've been to in Europe. This city has done a magnificent job of recognizing its history with the Nazis, but not reveling in it for the sake of sensationalism or tourism. Modern Nuremberg has declared itself a city for Human Rights, and if anything Nurembergers seem proud of their hometown. Unlike Frankfurt, Nuremberg seems to have a real identity, even if its a gritty one.

Here are some pictures... more to come from our jaunt through Bavaria. Pictured: Zepplin Field, The Old City Turm, Strudel, etc...

A Fairly Tale it Ain't

2008-03-04T11:19:00.000-08:00

On Saturday we went to Hanau, a sleepy German town 30 km East of Frankfurt. Hanau is famous for being the birthplace of the Brothers Grimm, Wilheim and Jacob. The brothers were academics and writers who collected some of Germany's most famous folk stories into collections of novellas, including Snow White, Cinderella, and Hansel and Gretel. Thanks to the Grimm brothers, children in the Western world develop phobias of wolves, getting lost in the woods, stepmothers*, and the repercussions of famine.

I thought a town with this sort of cultural significance (the Grimms collected and printed over 800 tales in the early 19th century) would be a mecca for a cultural history buff. And if not a mecca, at least a sort of kitschy Paul Bunyon-land. I pictured flaxen-haired members of the local children's theater running around with wooden baskets and breadcrumbs. I thought maybe there would be mechanical wolf, and red candy apples being sold by street vendors... was this too much to ask?

Instead, Hanau was a model of uninspired postwar construction. Turns out, like most of Hesse, Hanau was hit pretty bad by the RAF, and besides the platz and a few half-timbered houses, the city bears no resemblance to the town were Wilheim and Jacob entered the world.

There were, however, a few marks of the Grimms' presence, and we documented them. (Note: I have no idea who that German girl is.)

* This is so freaky... but the reason there is always an evil "stepmother," is because in the original versions the Grimms collected it was simply an evil mother. The Grimms thought this would disturb children, so they decided to remove the mother figure from a blood relation.

A day in the life (photo essay)

2008-03-02T10:27:00.001-08:00

I go to work...

Erik puts on his shoes...

I eat a bag of these German chips. I am positive they are laced with cocaine.

A long overdue update...

2008-03-02T10:16:00.000-08:00

of the pictorial type.

Here's the Wohnung, including the bathroom, the hallway, the gnome kitchen, and the living room now featuring an Ikea lamp.

A rainy day in the 'Furt

2008-02-29T01:57:00.000-08:00

Wet cobblestones are prettier than wet cemet, so I don't mind the 36 hour rain that has been drizzling over the 'Furt the last few days. The Germans call this Schlafwetter (sleep weather) and it's the main reason why they take extended Holy Week holidays, sort of like our spring vacation. In typical German fashion, I am done teaching by 10 a.m. on Fridays, and because we finally got our internet installed, I am having a glossy eyed gorge on people.com, youtube, style.com, and of course Bittman's blog.

This week has been pretty quiet. I've taught businessmen how to use the past continous (''I.. am.. no... I were.. no.. I was?... Yes!... I was watching television at 8 o'clock last night? Don't raise your voice, it's a statement... I WAS watching television at 8 o'clock last night... Very good (hand clap!)'' I went to a yoga class (in German) with some friends and we saw scary Aryan women doing Cirque d' Soile style moves. The best part was after the class -- in the locker room. We the Americans all huddled and twisted out of our clothes, never to expose ourselves while the German ladies just stripped down and hopped into a communal shower. I'm sorry... but I don't want to see butts and they were most certainly NOT wearing flip-flops. All I could think of was fungi.

Then, on Wednesday my life got really exciting, really fast. We got a TV, and now I have 20 channels of all German media (including some dubbed Season 2 of ''Grey's Anatomy'') to watch. I hope the language enters my brian via osmosis. So far, ''Germany's Next Topmodel bei Heidi Klum'' looks promising, as well as some weight loss show a la 'The Biggest Loser.'' This one, however features really big Bavarians eating sausages. See, not all Europeans are thin.

Read this!

2008-02-27T01:32:00.000-08:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/27/books/27holocaust.html?8dpc

Swedish babes and German babies

2008-02-25T05:57:00.000-08:00

What a busy birthday weekend! I saw a movie (''Sweeny Todd''-- meh.); I had a mini-dinner party (and got a sweet house plant out of the deal); I proved to be the victor in a bowling match (they have ''Cosmic'' bowling here, too); and last night I saw Jens Lekman at the Mousoun Turm.

Jens is a Swedish indie rocker, but he sings in a beautifully pitched colloquial Ami English (he peppers lyrics with phrases like ''Here's the thing,'' and subsitiues ''O'' for zero. That's real fluency). He performed with a five-piece backing band that was comically über Swedish. All the girls dressed like Debbie Harry if Debbie Harry shopped in an Amish discount store. In other words, they were the type of blonde babes who drink a lot of tea, dabble in acrylics, and manage to pull off geometric haircuts. Jens rocked the house but couldn't manage to coax more than a few shy handclaps from the Germans. And when poor Jens tried to get everyone to snap on the beat, it was like he asked them to find the square root of 1,879,365. I understand that Sweden is in a mini- Baby Boom right now, and after seeing the babes in the band I understand why. The Swedes seem lighthearted enough (not to mention stylish enough) to want to reproduce. But not the Germans...

It's been widely reported that the German birthrate is in a ridiculous decline. People aren't having babies, and thus the government tries to persuade them to have children with cute advertising campiagns and loads of social services if a couple does reach the desired state. I now have new insight into this birthrate problem. On Saturday I tutored a young, unmarried couple in English. To give a contemporary spin to my vocab lesson, I made them read a People magazine article on Sarkozy and Bruni's wedding. It was easy enough, but when we got to the sentence ''Some are reporting that Bruni is already expecting,'' they looked at me blankly. ''Expecting what?'' they asked. I explained that it was short for expecting a baby, and they stared. ''Schwanger?!''I mimed a big belly. They nodded. I asked if they had a similar phrase in Germany, and they said they did, something about a women expecting a kind. ''But,'' my tutee said, ''We very rarely see that!''

Another day..

2008-02-20T23:57:00.000-08:00

Well it's another day in the 'Furt, which means another day without internet, telephones, or proper seating at the new apartment. Now the powers at be tell us it will all be installed on Tuesday, but I remain doubtful. Once we have that and some chairs/sofa I think I can call this place home.

To make up for my complaints about not having a car, having an electrocution device for a water heater, and no phones or internet, I'm going to share some things I love about Germany:

1. School supplies: Brothers do this right! Any block in the 'Furt has an office/school supply store and these places rock. Part art store, part Office Max, part Target, these gems got the goods. I am in love with Stablio pens (think Uni-Ball meets a Papermate felt tip) and Claire Fontaine notebooks and volkabelhefts (special mini-notebooks to write down new vocab words).

2. Department stores: Department stores are still department stores in Germany. It's true: Karstad, Kaufhoff's, et. al., actually have a real variety of stuff, very Sears Roebuck (pre-DMV days) and Woolworth's (which they still have here!) You can buy kitchen utensils, yarn, the aforementioned school supplies, nice clothes, wedding dresses, fancy cakes and candies, beds, etc... And unlike my beloved Dayton's/Marshall Field's/ Macy's these stores are thriving with hustles and bustle. Of course they're not open on Sundays or past 8 p.m.....

3. Gerolsteiner Mineralwasser: Most Germans still drink their mineral watter with bubbles (mit kohlensaure) and I am a convert. This brand is the best, as it doesn't taste too much like Club Soda. It's just so crisp and refreshing and I love when you're a guest in a German's home and they pull out a bottle of this bad boy from the kuhlshrank.

4. Lack of sarcasm: Maybe I just don't hang with enough Germans yet, but the one's I've met and teach seem to possess no sense of irony or sarcasm. I think this is a nice change of pace from our overly sit-commed speech patterns in America. For instance, I've asked some of my students their hobbies, and without a grin or a sly look they look me in the eyes and say with all of the world's sorrows: "Handball." I chuckle, because handball seems like a lighthearted enough endeavor, but they remain stony faced.

5. Crazy-ass Long Words: Ahhh! I love this, if there isn't a word for what you want to say you just keep adding words together until you make it up. The classic example is Shadenfreude, which means "being happy at someone else's pain." I love what a horrible word that is, but I also love that Germans get done in one word what we get done in six.

Ok, must go work, meet Henly for a coffee, work again, cook dinner, go to German class, bathe under the box of fire. Tschuess!

I need some Hirsch.

2008-02-18T11:37:00.000-08:00

I used to watch the show "Taxi" all the time even though it went off the air three years before I was born. Thanks to the miracle of Nick at Nite, I was a huge fan of '70s comedies as a prepubescent. "Taxi" was one of my favorites, mostly because I loved Judd Hirsch (I was never an Andy Kaufman fan... he was creepy). I remember in the pilot episode Judd Hirsch explains to Marilu Henner that everyone who works for the NY taxi cab company is something else; anything but a cab driver. "Everyone here is a writer or an actor or a musician who just drives Taxis for rent," says Hirsch's Alex Rieger. "I'm the only one who's a Taxi driver."

Oh, Judd Hirsch is so wise. Well, language school teachers are just like the characters in "Taxi." Everyone is teaching because they can't preform their chosen profession in Germany (so far I've met a nurse, an ABD poli sci student, a business analyst, a lit teacher, etc.). So they become English teachers, selling the only commodity they have and spending their days far from home, explaining to German bankers ( die Schlips, German slang for "the ties/suits") that it's "I speak some English," not "I speaks some English." My language school is full of these characters, and almost all of us came to Germany because of a significant other. As my boss said in my interview, "Ok, out with it: Who are you running from or to?"

Classes started this week and so far all I've accomplished is writing ALWAYS= 100 % SOMETIMES = 50% NEVER= 0 % on the board. Let's hope things pick up.

Wir sind NICHT in Amerika!

2008-02-14T23:37:00.000-08:00

So last night was Valentine's Day, and I spent the night driving to Wallau, Germany in a rented molester van to get furniture for our new place. Wallau is home to Germany's largest IKEA, and we had to get some big ticket items last night, including a carpet and a bookshelf. All went well; we dined on Swedish cafeteria food, agreed on light fixtures, and made it back to the 'Furt by 9 p.m -- we thought that left us plenty of time to set up. We were wrong. Just as we were getting into the groove of reading those diagrammed instructions (about 10:15 p.m.) we hear our doorbell ring. E went to the door, only to find our terrifying 65 year-old Hausmaesterin tapping her toe. She told him we were being too loud, that some people were in bed... then she added a spiteful "Wir sind nicht in Amerika!," (we are not in America!) before mounting her broom and flying back west. Ugh! I am so fed up with that attitude: A) This lady's image of Amerika is most certainly derived from marathon sessions of watching OUR imported TV shows, and B) it wasn't even late! C) just because we're big (both metaphorically and literally) doesn't mean you can take any cheap shot you like, at any time.

Pictures to come, a promise...

Sorry for the delay

2008-02-13T01:33:00.000-08:00

It's been a week since I last blogged and I miss it! However, we're undergoing a move right now (still living in east Frankfurt) and thus do not have phone/internet for the next couple of weeks. Right now I'm writing from the teacher's lounge at my language school and I just explained to an Italian teacher that the phrase "got asked out" has romantic connotations in America.

This weekend we moved to a new apartment and I cannot emphasize enough how horrible it is to move without an automobile and just two people. We carried all of our belongings on upwards of 10 trips on the U-Bahn, and I'm sure some riders were scared of our huge blue Ikea bags bulging with books, bedsheets, and kitchenware. As soon as I remember to bring my camera to work, I will upload some new pictures of the place. It's still pretty bare, but it has a lot of potential. We have a small balcony, a cute kitchen and a nice-sized bathroom, all pretty rare for cheap European living. I am, however, suffering from a panic attack each time I bathe in the new place. The water heater, flames and all, is located right above the bathtub and I fully believe that some sort of exploding/electrical/bomb malfunction will take place when I'm washing my hair.

Besides the move, I was granted a visa on Friday! Yes! It was a really easy process (because E was there bullying them in perfect German) and I can now live and work in Germany until February 2010. I can hold down any job as long as I am using my "Native English" skills. I have my first official class next Tuesday, and I cannot wait! You meet such interesting people at a language school, both trainers and students.

OK, this was a boring update but I had to start somewhere. I'll write more ASAP.

I love this man...

2008-02-06T07:48:00.000-08:00

HOLY CRAP!!!! Mark Bittman has a new blog at nytimes.com. I cannot WAIT to try the veggie pancakes, a perfect Lenten meal, no?

Check it here: http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/

Ash Wednesday finds the 'Furt in some mild, spring-like weather. The results for Super Tuesday are in and CNN International has been having a field day. It's so addictive; even though CNN is programmed on the same 22 minute story loops, I find myself watching for hours at a time, waiting for them to say once more that Obama still has family in Kenya or see that one clip of Huckabee rocking to "Sweet Home Alabama." My favorite, though, has to be the byte of Bill in a Harlem church, laughing about how all his life he wanted to vote for a black president... or a woman. God that man is just ripped from Shakespeare.

My mom said her dems polling station ran out of ballots, so she was caucusing on Post-It notes. I love that image, and I hope the vibes in America are as exciting as they seem from abroad. Last night, I went to my new language class, and when I said "Ich komme aus Amerika," the whole class was like "SUPER TUESDAY!!!! Obama! McCain! Hillary!" The world is getting smaller.

Pictures!

2008-02-04T09:56:00.000-08:00

So far I have been pretty slow with the photos.. but here are some good ones from the last few days. Of interest, the creepy Fasching mask, the Zoo U-bahn stop, the Turm (English movie theater), and visions of the 'Furt at night!

Weekend in Review

2008-02-04T06:58:00.000-08:00

As the citizens of St. Paul, MN froze their tootsies off at the Winter Carnival, I was celebrating another carnival of sorts half-way around the world. This weekend marked the beginning of Fasching, the pre-Lent Mardis Gras-like weekend of parties that has Germans from all walks of life parading around to costume parties as honeybees, witches, and, of course, the dreaded clown.

Germans don't really do Halloween, so Fashing is their time to shine when it comes to costumes. Unfortunately for me and my clown anxieties, many a German choose to go with the red nose/court jester hat motif.

Frankfurt has a big Faschings parade on Sunday, but the real celebration was on Monday an hour north, in the city of Mainz. Mainz is one of the most Catholic towns in Germany, so their parade is large and in charge. I hiked up there at 9 a.m. this morning with some friends, and we wore our creepy face masks (very Eyes Wide Shut) and waved our hands so German men dressed up on stilts would throw us candy. I have to admit I was impressed by the German marching bands, and pleased to see that the parade route boasted many food vendors. It was almost as good as the state fair. I had two Jag shots , a crepe with Nutella and Bailey's, and a Kuh-Wurst (cow-sausage). ... all before 11 a.m.

Besides the Lenten celebrations, I saw a great movie Control at the English-language theater, met with my new Tandem conversation partner Esther, and went out for sushi in one of the ritzier parts of the 'Furt.

Ikea Update: It IS the same. But let me say this, Ikeas should NOT exist in places where the vast majority depend on public transportation. I would have given a pinky toe to have had an SUV on Saturday....

A long week

2008-02-01T06:52:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the infrequent blogging this week, but I have a good excuse: I am employed! Yes, after two weeks of filling out too many job applications, and making too many phone calls in my Germanish (German-English), I have now found gainful employment as an English teacher in a sprachschule in the 'Furt. The best part is that the job is only 25 hours per week, thus I can continue my German studies. But I'm not in the clear yet. I have to apply for my Visa. My new boss said that this shouldn't be a problem as long as I remember to bring the right papers and biometric photos when I meet the authorities on Tuesday. Biometric photos, by the way, are super bad ass. You have to stand against a white background, you have to have your ears and the top of your head visible, and you CANNOT smile. When I do those things (I've been practicing in the mirror) I look astonishingly like David Bowie. It won't be pretty.

Besides getting a job, and seeing that concert, I went to Rimbach this week. Dinner with E's former colleagues was great, but everyone spoke German, so I did a lot of nodding and 2-second delay laughing at jokes. Rimbach is on the famed Bergstrasse (Mountain Street) of Germany. It's the scenic route that 18th century literati like Goethe took to Italy, and it really is more fairy-tale like than Bavaria. We took the regional bahn, which is one of my favorite things to do here. The Hauptbanhof in Frankfurt is a gorgeous building and I love how the skyline comes into view as we rear into the station. It feels both perfectly modern and completely old-fashioned at the same time, which I guess is apropos of Germany.

Tonight I am going to make a nice curry, lentil, potato, stew-thing: another recipe from Bittman's book. The weather here is wet and chilly, so something hot and contained in one bowl is required for dinner. Tomorrow I am going on my first-ever European trip to... IKEA! I can't wait! I hope it's exactly like the one near the MOA, like with the same set-up and everything so it will feel like some Swedish-designed parallel universe. I have a perverse love for these parallel universes that occur thanks to globalization. A perfect example is the Starbuck's I visited this afternoon. Beige and green overstuffed chairs? Check. Vanilla spelling with an "a"? Check. Neko Case on the PA? Check. Eerie, I felt like my old eighth grade teacher could have walked in at any minute.

Germans would see a concert in a church

2008-01-29T06:32:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to see Iron and Wine at Frankfurt's Dreikönigskirche. Over 500 people packed the venue, impressive for a dreary Monday night. I get anxious by social events held on school nights. I find myself jealous of the carefree people who seem to be enjoying themselves and are not, like me, silently saying to themselves, "I have 10 hours until I have to wake up tomorrow, I have 9 and a half hours until I have to wake up tomorrow, if I don't sleep my immune system will weaken, I'll probably get a cold..."

The Dreikönigskirche, be the way, is a huge old church, and the 500 or so concert goers I mentioned were sitting quietly in the pews, nodding their head to the music, and only standing if they had to go to the bathroom. This is so German. Most of these young people probably never went to church for, well, church, and so the idea of seeing a rock concert, albeit a folk-art rock concert, in a worship space didn't inspire an ironic or even mischievous mood.

The concert was good, as the church did have wonderful acoustics and Iron and Wine performed with a full band, something I require when seeing a show. But after two hours of very mellow, very heavy ("...we always lean on the broken hand," wow. deep.) songs I was tired and thankful for the one song encore.

After the show, another Minnesotan gal and I had a great discussion lamenting the on stage antics of "rock stars" in our time. We both agreed that concerts would be better if someone passed out on stage from a slight OD, or if the bassist could smoke three cigarettes at once or something. This, "oh-gee, are you guys looking at me, I have dumpy clothes on" indie ethos jut doesn't do it for me. Give me some sex on stage, a little Prince or something.

Anyway, I am off to Rimbach tonight for dinner. Rimbach is an hour south of the 'Furt in the Odenwald, or as I call it, fairy-tale land... it should be fun.

Here are some picks of some food I've made recently. These are mostly for my sister's benefit. But I just want to say that Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything Vegetarian has really changed my life.

Heidelberg und Oles

2008-01-28T05:49:00.000-08:00

On Saturday night, I headed down to Heidelberg to visit with a group of Oles on their J-term in Germany. St. Olaf professor Herr Fink treated alumni living in central Germany to join his trip for a fantastic Italian dinner (I was confused by the choice too). There were 6 Ole alums there, and about 20 students. As the only person at the gathering with minimal German skills, I was so impressed by the dedication Herr Fink’s German students displayed. I mean, there’s no real reason to love this language, with it’s fussy grammar, guttural Krieg-sounds, and impossibly long spellings, but sure enough, these 19 year olds tough it out for one month in the Fatherland while their classmates practice their French in Martinique and their Spanish in Ecuador. It doesn’t seem fair. And unlike Spanish, French, or Chinese, German is becoming, if not dead, then antiquated. Herr Fink summed it up perfectly to Erik and I; “Why learn German when so many new professors are willing to teach language as culture, and instead of German you get classes like ‘German Cinema, in English’?”

Even with the pedagogical shop talk we had a great night. I had been to Heidelberg once before and always loved its almost kitschy German-ess. Heidelberg boasts a large Medieval Castle, a former Nazi amphitheater and one of Germany’s most prestigious universities. There is also a huge American military presence in Heidelberg as it was Allied force headquarters after the war, and later American headquarters for European operations. There is a great shopping district and plenty of beer stubs lining the cobblestone streets, and our group of alums managed to stumble into a few of these. Here’s a picture courtesy of Kathryn S., Konigin of German studies (pictured far right).

Cliff wouldn't like this...

2008-01-24T04:39:00.000-08:00

In Germany there are three places to get groceries: Supermarkets, outdoor stands, or lebensmittels, which are small convenient-type stores (literally translated "life shops") that sell selected food stuffs. The best produce is at the outdoor markets, but it can be pricey and you have to really rely on your language skills. The grocery stores are very limited here, and although you have time to stand in the aisle and slowly read the box, something about misused exclamation points and wasted enthusiasm makes me distrust the German big brand "Ja!" a Johnson and Johnson like company from the East/West days that makes everything from toilet paper to yogurt. So when funds are low and energies lower, Erik and I walk downstairs to the Pol-Kost, our neighborhoodd lebensmittle featuring food from, you guessed it, Poland. We like the idea of stopping in most days to buy milk or beer, and saying "hi" to the mother and daughter who run the place. Every item sold is Polish, and thus all the canisters and boxes have odd letters on them and we must rely on a dancing bear eating what looks to be Frosted Flakes to tell us what the contents are. Usually, this method works for us, but yesterday it didn't. I went out in the afternoon to get some apple juice, because I was thinking of how much I loved "The Cosby Show," and then I thought of how Cliff Huxtable always drank apple juice. So, I marched down to the Pol and looked at the rows of juice boxes. I found the one that advertised apples on the cover design, said my niceties to Nadja, and went home. I opened the box, poured a glass, took a sip, and spewed the contents allover the kitchen like a cartoon character. Something was terrible wrong: Either the juice was bad or I purchased some sort of fermented moonshine. I ran to the computer and found a Polish dictionary online to type in the words featured on the juice box. As the web page loaded I had visions of the words "Donkey urine" or "Prussian sweat," but instead the translation popped up as: "Mint and Apple cider." Trust me, you never want to experience this horror.

Guten Tag!

2008-01-22T05:07:00.001-08:00

I decided to start a blog documenting my move to Europe. I'm afraid this phrasing, "blog... documenting.. move to Europe," has already become a trite fixture of the 21st century, but I still want to give it a go.

I moved to Frankfurt, Germany exactly two weeks ago. I speak minimal German, have no job prospects, and had previously never ventured more than 35 miles away from my parent's house. Why, then, did I pack my life in two suitcases and ditch my beloved America (in an election year no less) to live in Frankfurt?! Frankfurt?! A city that has been bombed, rebuilt, bombed, rebuilt, and is now not the fashion, or culinary, or arts capital of Germany, but the... drumroll...financial capital! That's right: My new home hosts the Euro bank, and I can't even do long subtraction if the top number is a zero.... My new city is also the namesake to the most phallic looking meat creation ever invented. What possessed me?

Well, put simply, I moved because I had to. There was this guy, blah, blah, blah, and when it became apparent that having "phone dates" no longer thrilled us, I moved.

Surely the web doesn't need another travelogue, or the smug apologies of an ex-pat who suddenly despises how loud and large Americans actually are. Instead I want to share photos and stories of the oddities and idiosyncrasies that come when living as an Auslanderin in a country, let's be frank, that's never been kind to outsiders.