Can you believe it? A year ist fast dabei! Our time in Munich has come to an end.
Tomorrow is Reisetag. We head for the airport at 8:30am. If all goes according to plan (knock on wood, because it usually doesn't), 11:40am is wings-up.
This year was full of wonderful experiences and interesting challenges, zum beispiel: attempting to speak German, trying to fit in with Deutsche Kultur, and learning to like pork (I'm still working on that one). We met amazing people and were afforded fantastic Erfahrungen. Our time here was taken advantage of to the fullest extent.
We also have a big year ahead of us. In the next two weeks, we are planning to pack-up again and move up through the South and into the Northeast. We have the world of maple syrup, cheddar cheese, and Ben and Jerry's to explore: Vermont.
We hope you'll stay with us as we begin our new adventures.
And with that:
Now it's time to say goodbye to all our company.
M-Ü-C, C ya real soon!
N-H-E-N, Naja, because we like you!
B-A-Y-E-R-N.
Monday, August 9, 2010
High Stakes Cleaning
Early last Saturday morning, Jamie and I set off for the local hardware store to pick up some painting supplies. We were taking the first steps on a long journey towards making it seem like we had never been in Munich--well, to be more specific, we wanted to create the impression that we had never lived in our apartment, a goal which we both dearly hoped was not a futile one. On the line was the massive deposit we'd had to plunk down last November when our 6-week-long apartment search had brought us to the point of accepting almost any place with four walls, a roof, and a working internet connection. Paying up the deposit at the time we moved in was an almost gleeful experience--the long search for somewhere to live was finally over, and we were cleared to move in!
Shortly thereafter the reality set in. Each time we scuffed the floor, left a mark on the wall or sat on the couch the wrong way, we heard the imaginary cha-ching of another few Euros being deducted from our deposit--the money we had been forced to save back in the fall seemed to be dwindling, despite the fact that no one could get anywhere near the account it was being held in.
So after months of feeling uneasy each time we dropped something or left muddy tracks on the hallway floor (a particularly easy task during a long, snowy winter and a cool, wet spring), we were definitely ready to clean. The potential payoff seemed huge--each hour of cleaning could earn us a few days' rent in Vermont (if we didn't blow it on beer and Brezeln before we ever made it out of Bavaria)!
Then again, our deep-seated worry that no matter what we did and no matter how hard we scrubbed, it wouldn't be good enough wouldn't let up, either. After hours of trying to remove a year's worth of grime from our oven rack, I wavered between fears that the rack was nowhere near clean enough because it still had a couple specks burned onto it, and hopes that no one would even bother to check that closely anyway. All this led to doubts about the economics of the whole cleaning enterprise--were we actually saving money, or just wasting time?
The suspense was miserable. Luckily, there is lots of good beer in Munich, and this being our last week here, even a solitary ray of sunshine seemed a clear signal that it was time to put down the mop and the paint brush and head for the local beer garden. We spent several evenings there last week imagining just what would happen on Sunday when our landlord came to check in on our work.
In the end, things worked out fine. Even though the sun was shining, the accumulated dust and grime of a year of our lives (not to mention the billows of dirt and grime constantly blowing in our windows from the construction site across the street) were not enough to dissuade our landlord from returning our deposit. Instead, he watched a few minutes of Shawn the Sheep to make sure the TV was still working and briefly turned on the radio--which gave him cause to ask us whether we liked Bavarian music--before showing us the money.
We were done, and it was a nice August day in Munich. The kind of day where even Jamie was forced to admit that the weather was "almost summery." We headed straight for the beer garden.
We had just about enough time to finish our celebratory drinks before the bad weather set in. We departed in a light drizzle, and then watched out our window as a huge thunder storm attacked the city. Later that night, we braved the weather to meet a friend for a drink downtown. At around 11pm on Sunday night, we waited for the subway to ride home and get some rest before another day of jumping through bureacratic hoops and rewarding ourselves with a few hours in the beer garden.
While the three of us were standing there, bemoaning the miserable weather that had once again descended on Bavaria, we watched a team of workers cleaning trash from between the rocks and rails down on the subway tracks. One stooped over to pick something up and emerged with a sheet of bubble wrap at least three feet long. But mostly, they were scooping up litle bits of wrappers or unnoticable cigarette butts that had found their way into hiding places between the pieces of gravel.
A display above the platform lets passengers know when the next train is approaching. As the minutes ticked down, we grew increasinlgy concerned about the cleaning crew. Even after the monitor informed us that our train was approaching in less than one minute, the workers continued searching for the wretched refuse of the Munich subway system. Finally, when it seemed like we could already feel the wind that the train pushes down the tunnel picking up, a siren went off, and the workers dived into a small cavity under the platform. The train sped into the station and we got on board. The workers must have been right next to its fast-moving steel wheels as we minded the gap and boarded above them.
Now, I realized, we knew what real high stakes cleaning looks like. After all, what else can you call playing chicken with a subway train in order to remove some bubble wrap? And perhaps these workers' experience was even more German than our whole struggle to clean our apartment. Where else in the world do people risk their lives to remove a couple pieces of trash from a mice-infested subway track? Our companion, a Bavarian who had recently moved back to the Southern Germany from Hamburg answered this question before we even had a chance to ask it out loud. "Only in Munich!" he remarked as we sat down in the spotless subway car.
Shortly thereafter the reality set in. Each time we scuffed the floor, left a mark on the wall or sat on the couch the wrong way, we heard the imaginary cha-ching of another few Euros being deducted from our deposit--the money we had been forced to save back in the fall seemed to be dwindling, despite the fact that no one could get anywhere near the account it was being held in.
So after months of feeling uneasy each time we dropped something or left muddy tracks on the hallway floor (a particularly easy task during a long, snowy winter and a cool, wet spring), we were definitely ready to clean. The potential payoff seemed huge--each hour of cleaning could earn us a few days' rent in Vermont (if we didn't blow it on beer and Brezeln before we ever made it out of Bavaria)!
Then again, our deep-seated worry that no matter what we did and no matter how hard we scrubbed, it wouldn't be good enough wouldn't let up, either. After hours of trying to remove a year's worth of grime from our oven rack, I wavered between fears that the rack was nowhere near clean enough because it still had a couple specks burned onto it, and hopes that no one would even bother to check that closely anyway. All this led to doubts about the economics of the whole cleaning enterprise--were we actually saving money, or just wasting time?
The suspense was miserable. Luckily, there is lots of good beer in Munich, and this being our last week here, even a solitary ray of sunshine seemed a clear signal that it was time to put down the mop and the paint brush and head for the local beer garden. We spent several evenings there last week imagining just what would happen on Sunday when our landlord came to check in on our work.
In the end, things worked out fine. Even though the sun was shining, the accumulated dust and grime of a year of our lives (not to mention the billows of dirt and grime constantly blowing in our windows from the construction site across the street) were not enough to dissuade our landlord from returning our deposit. Instead, he watched a few minutes of Shawn the Sheep to make sure the TV was still working and briefly turned on the radio--which gave him cause to ask us whether we liked Bavarian music--before showing us the money.
We were done, and it was a nice August day in Munich. The kind of day where even Jamie was forced to admit that the weather was "almost summery." We headed straight for the beer garden.
We had just about enough time to finish our celebratory drinks before the bad weather set in. We departed in a light drizzle, and then watched out our window as a huge thunder storm attacked the city. Later that night, we braved the weather to meet a friend for a drink downtown. At around 11pm on Sunday night, we waited for the subway to ride home and get some rest before another day of jumping through bureacratic hoops and rewarding ourselves with a few hours in the beer garden.
While the three of us were standing there, bemoaning the miserable weather that had once again descended on Bavaria, we watched a team of workers cleaning trash from between the rocks and rails down on the subway tracks. One stooped over to pick something up and emerged with a sheet of bubble wrap at least three feet long. But mostly, they were scooping up litle bits of wrappers or unnoticable cigarette butts that had found their way into hiding places between the pieces of gravel.
A display above the platform lets passengers know when the next train is approaching. As the minutes ticked down, we grew increasinlgy concerned about the cleaning crew. Even after the monitor informed us that our train was approaching in less than one minute, the workers continued searching for the wretched refuse of the Munich subway system. Finally, when it seemed like we could already feel the wind that the train pushes down the tunnel picking up, a siren went off, and the workers dived into a small cavity under the platform. The train sped into the station and we got on board. The workers must have been right next to its fast-moving steel wheels as we minded the gap and boarded above them.
Now, I realized, we knew what real high stakes cleaning looks like. After all, what else can you call playing chicken with a subway train in order to remove some bubble wrap? And perhaps these workers' experience was even more German than our whole struggle to clean our apartment. Where else in the world do people risk their lives to remove a couple pieces of trash from a mice-infested subway track? Our companion, a Bavarian who had recently moved back to the Southern Germany from Hamburg answered this question before we even had a chance to ask it out loud. "Only in Munich!" he remarked as we sat down in the spotless subway car.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Wandern Gehen...Goes Wandern
Wandern literally means: to hike or to go hiking. Both my hubby and I love wandern. And being that the Alps are only two hours from Munich by train, we decided to take advantage of our location and spend our last couple of weekends in Bayern exploring these wondrous mountains.
As you can see in the first two pictures below, summer in Germany is not always "summer" as we know it; however, no matter the weather, the Alps are incredible.
The best part about hiking in Germany is that there is a Biergarten every few kilometers and on top of every mountain peak. I think that the only reason that Germans go hiking is to have an excuse to drink. No joke.
Thirsty? How 'bout a frothy beer?! Hungry? Stop for schnitzel! Cold? A steaming hot chocolate will warm you right up!
As a nature purist, I had a lot of trouble getting used to the mountain-side-Biergarten-concept. But after gaining 1.5 kilometers in altitude over 10 kilometers on a chilly summer day, a steaming plate of Käsespätzle easily changed my attitude.
It's just amazes me that after so many brewskies, all hikers make it safely back down the trails.
This past weekend Steve, our friend Christian, and I hiked (well, more like conquered) the treacherous trail up to King Ludwig's hunting lodge, resting 5,628 feet above our point of origin.
First, we marveled over the Partnachklamm, a 700-meter long, deep-cut gorge in the middle of the Alps. Unfortunately, my pictures did not do it justice, so you only get to see one:
Then, about half-way through our climb up, we thought we were fast da. Discovering that we were only half-way was quite a disappointment. At that point we cursed Steve for wanting to fulfill his dream of visiting all of crazy King Ludwig's creations...but, we kept trudging on and on.
The views provided us with inspiration...
...and so did the wild life.
Finally...in the distance...we spotted the lodge!
(No, not the building in the foreground.)
Eventually, we made it, drank a Spezi, and went on a tour of the King's favorite birthday celebration destination. There was even a special surprise at the end of the tour! However, if you want to learn more and/or see the lodge, then you have to work as hard as we did to get there. Trust me, it's worth the effort.
As you can see in the first two pictures below, summer in Germany is not always "summer" as we know it; however, no matter the weather, the Alps are incredible.
The best part about hiking in Germany is that there is a Biergarten every few kilometers and on top of every mountain peak. I think that the only reason that Germans go hiking is to have an excuse to drink. No joke.
Thirsty? How 'bout a frothy beer?! Hungry? Stop for schnitzel! Cold? A steaming hot chocolate will warm you right up!
As a nature purist, I had a lot of trouble getting used to the mountain-side-Biergarten-concept. But after gaining 1.5 kilometers in altitude over 10 kilometers on a chilly summer day, a steaming plate of Käsespätzle easily changed my attitude.
It's just amazes me that after so many brewskies, all hikers make it safely back down the trails.
This past weekend Steve, our friend Christian, and I hiked (well, more like conquered) the treacherous trail up to King Ludwig's hunting lodge, resting 5,628 feet above our point of origin.
First, we marveled over the Partnachklamm, a 700-meter long, deep-cut gorge in the middle of the Alps. Unfortunately, my pictures did not do it justice, so you only get to see one:
Then, about half-way through our climb up, we thought we were fast da. Discovering that we were only half-way was quite a disappointment. At that point we cursed Steve for wanting to fulfill his dream of visiting all of crazy King Ludwig's creations...but, we kept trudging on and on.
The views provided us with inspiration...
...and so did the wild life.
Finally...in the distance...we spotted the lodge!
(No, not the building in the foreground.)
Eventually, we made it, drank a Spezi, and went on a tour of the King's favorite birthday celebration destination. There was even a special surprise at the end of the tour! However, if you want to learn more and/or see the lodge, then you have to work as hard as we did to get there. Trust me, it's worth the effort.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Mud Pie in the Eye
Just like a little puppy, Steve has been begging me repeatedly to write a post about the "fouling of footways by dogs" in London.
I agree that dog owners are responsible for cleaning up after their little friends. Dog-doo is gross. And. It's even more disgusting when it's stuck to the bottom of your shoe...or your husband's shoe...or your friend's shoe. The smell alone is nauseating. But did you know that dog poop is dangerous, too?
Yep. You read it here first. Or maybe you already discovered this statistic yourself, but that's beside the point. "Every year up to 700 people are blinded after contact with dog mess." Yikes! Does that statistic only include Londoners? Should I be worried? Is there a flush I can use if I ever get dog crap in my eye? Please help!
Bottom line: clean up after your dog or you will be fined.
Otherwise, someone else will have to pick up the mess for you (gasp!), which invariable, will never happen....unless someone steps in it, which doesn't really count.
Worst of all, if you are walking a dog in London and fail to comply with the rules, you are liable to prosecution. Do you want that on your record?!
To avoid a big mess, clean up after your dog's mess. There are even special bins provided so you don't have to carry around a poop-filled doggie bag throughout the city.
Design Time
Yes.
You are in the right place.
No.
You aren't seeing things.
wandern gehen is experimenting with a new look.
What do you think?!
I bet I can guess...
You like the look.
But.
You're annoyed.
I've spent time too much time obsesessing over font colors.
And.
Not enough time entertaining you.
I can't say that I blame you.
You have a right to be annoyed.
There are no excuses.
Well...
There is one.
Actually, it is more of an explanation than an excuse:
I have been in blog-post-procrastination-mode since June.
Maybe it was the three weeks of insanely nice weather and/or writers block, but instead of writing, I have been focused on organizing a gigantic move (and, in my spare time, enjoying a little "R and R" on the Isar).
There.
I admitted it.
I procrastinate...sometimes.
Are you happy?
Oh! And in case I forgot to mention it earlier, beginning August 30, Steve and I repositioning ourselves in a new zip-code: 05301 (a.k.a. Brattleboro, Vermont).
SIT...here I come!
You are in the right place.
No.
You aren't seeing things.
wandern gehen is experimenting with a new look.
What do you think?!
I bet I can guess...
You like the look.
But.
You're annoyed.
I've spent time too much time obsesessing over font colors.
And.
Not enough time entertaining you.
I can't say that I blame you.
You have a right to be annoyed.
There are no excuses.
Well...
There is one.
Actually, it is more of an explanation than an excuse:
I have been in blog-post-procrastination-mode since June.
Maybe it was the three weeks of insanely nice weather and/or writers block, but instead of writing, I have been focused on organizing a gigantic move (and, in my spare time, enjoying a little "R and R" on the Isar).
There.
I admitted it.
I procrastinate...sometimes.
Are you happy?
Oh! And in case I forgot to mention it earlier, beginning August 30, Steve and I repositioning ourselves in a new zip-code: 05301 (a.k.a. Brattleboro, Vermont).
SIT...here I come!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Brief Notes on Slovakia
After spending time in Poland, I expected Slovakia to be pretty rundown. For some strange reason, I had imagined most of Eastern Europe to be shabby and neglected. Well, Überraschung! Slovakia is nice. I mean...really nice. Our jam-packed trip (tacked on to the end of our time in Vienna) lasted only a mere two days. In that time, however, our friend and guide, Noemi, managed to show us a fair bit of her beautiful country.
BRATISLAVA and NITRA:
Picturesque Downtown Bratislava
Outside a Restaurant in the Outskirts of Nitra
(The Slovakian landscape reminded me a lot of Franken in Germany.)
Noemi and Steve in Bratislava
Cozy Confines of a Delicious Slovakian Restaurant
Deserted Downtown Nitra on a Quiet Sunday Afternoon
BRATISLAVA and NITRA:
Picturesque Downtown Bratislava
Outside a Restaurant in the Outskirts of Nitra(The Slovakian landscape reminded me a lot of Franken in Germany.)
Noemi and Steve in Bratislava
Cozy Confines of a Delicious Slovakian Restaurant
Deserted Downtown Nitra on a Quiet Sunday AfternoonWednesday, June 9, 2010
Wiener Weather
I don't want to jinx it, but the weather in Munich is finally summer-izing. For the first time this season, walking ten minutes from my house to the U-Bahn made me perspire. Everyone in the streets was eating ice cream (except for me). And, I actually managed to acquire some red on my bare shoulders, etching a fat tan line into my exposed skin as a warm reminder of the beautiful day.
Summertime in Munich is the happiest time in Munich. Beer gardens fill to the brim with people, just as the steins overflow with brew. Music blares from green spaces across the expanse of the city as people bask in the vitamin D glory.
A few weeks ago, Steve and I traveled to Vienna spend the day with one of Steve's old professors, Andy Markovitz, who is teaching a summer course at the Universität Wien. We also stayed to play tourists for a few days following our meeting.
Unfortunately (or fortunately), the majority of our time in Vienna was spent ducking through the rain from one cafe to the next, from one museum to the next. For the most part, the weather was opposite the glorious blue-sky heaven that we Münchners experienced today. Yet, if there is one place to be when it's frigid and damp, it's Vienna. Nothing warms you better on a soggy, 40 degree day than sitting in a cozy cafe nook, drinking a Viennese coffee, and eating a delicious piece of cake. Gotta love café kultur!
Ladies and gents, VIENNA:
Café Kultur at Its Finest...Afternoon Cake at Café Central
(In the late 19th century, Café Central was a meeting place for the intellectual minds of the time. It was often frequented by Lenin, Trotsky, Freud, and Herzl. These smarties must have come for the cake, because it was delicious!)
"In Love in Vienna Today: 352091" +2
Side Entrance to the Hofburg Palace
(The Hofburg housed the Habsburg dynasty...sadly, I can't really tell you anything more about it, except that it is a HUGE, gray concrete complex.)
Figlmüller: The Best and Biggest Schnitzel EVER!
(Schnitzel at Figlmüller was recommended to Steve and I by my tandem partner, Jana. And man...that was the best schnitzel I have ever tasted! It was also giant...bigger than my head...COLOSSAL. Despite its vast expanse, I was excited and determined to eat the entire stuck. Unfortunately, I vowed to post only five pictures per place visited for my current blog posts series, because I have pictures of Steve and I attempting to devour our groß meal. Steve succeeded. Sadly, however, just under half of my schnitzel ended up in a take-home bag and then in the trash. I became too full to finish. They say, "Waste not, want not," but I would have been happy for a smaller portion size.)
Silhouette of the City Hall
(The rain finally cleared during our last evening in the city.)
Summertime in Munich is the happiest time in Munich. Beer gardens fill to the brim with people, just as the steins overflow with brew. Music blares from green spaces across the expanse of the city as people bask in the vitamin D glory.
A few weeks ago, Steve and I traveled to Vienna spend the day with one of Steve's old professors, Andy Markovitz, who is teaching a summer course at the Universität Wien. We also stayed to play tourists for a few days following our meeting.
Unfortunately (or fortunately), the majority of our time in Vienna was spent ducking through the rain from one cafe to the next, from one museum to the next. For the most part, the weather was opposite the glorious blue-sky heaven that we Münchners experienced today. Yet, if there is one place to be when it's frigid and damp, it's Vienna. Nothing warms you better on a soggy, 40 degree day than sitting in a cozy cafe nook, drinking a Viennese coffee, and eating a delicious piece of cake. Gotta love café kultur!
Ladies and gents, VIENNA:
Café Kultur at Its Finest...Afternoon Cake at Café Central(In the late 19th century, Café Central was a meeting place for the intellectual minds of the time. It was often frequented by Lenin, Trotsky, Freud, and Herzl. These smarties must have come for the cake, because it was delicious!)
"In Love in Vienna Today: 352091" +2
Side Entrance to the Hofburg Palace(The Hofburg housed the Habsburg dynasty...sadly, I can't really tell you anything more about it, except that it is a HUGE, gray concrete complex.)
Figlmüller: The Best and Biggest Schnitzel EVER!(Schnitzel at Figlmüller was recommended to Steve and I by my tandem partner, Jana. And man...that was the best schnitzel I have ever tasted! It was also giant...bigger than my head...COLOSSAL. Despite its vast expanse, I was excited and determined to eat the entire stuck. Unfortunately, I vowed to post only five pictures per place visited for my current blog posts series, because I have pictures of Steve and I attempting to devour our groß meal. Steve succeeded. Sadly, however, just under half of my schnitzel ended up in a take-home bag and then in the trash. I became too full to finish. They say, "Waste not, want not," but I would have been happy for a smaller portion size.)
Silhouette of the City Hall(The rain finally cleared during our last evening in the city.)
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Too Many Questions
Picking out five pictures from our trip to Poland was next to impossible! Steve and I spent an extremely full week exploring Krakow and the surrounding area.
Throughout the course of our trip, we toured museums and castles and we ate TONS of perogies. (Yum!) We were also shown around some small towns in "real" Poland via A. Rodriguez (no, NOT A-Rod!), our friend from UNC.
Lastly, we also paid our respects to and mourned over those who perished at Auschwitz. There, we learned a great deal about the Polish perspective on World War II.
Sifting through the 150 pictures from our trip, I found myself wondering how to narrow down our visit to just five snapshots. Should I include a picture from Auschwitz? What about the view from our rented apartment? Or pictures from Poles celebrating Easter? Did I even mention that we were there over Easter weekend?
Additionally, Poland is developing. Much of the country is still overrun with poverty. Should I focus on the contrast between the beauty and newness of downtown Krakow and the rundown outskirts of town? So many questions...
Without further ado, my answer is below. I decided to focus on KRAKOW:
View of Downtown Krakow from Outside the City Gate
Rundown Train Station Outside of Krakow
Graffiti in the Old Jewish Quarter, Krakow
Kraków-Płaszów Camp Holocaust Memorial
(In October 1942, Jews were deported from Krakow ghetto to a concentration camp at this site. The Nazis destroyed this camp in 1945, after which, the remaining prisoners were sentenced to a death march to Auschwitz. Now there are a few monuments scattered around the grounds. It only took Steve and I about 45 minutes to walk here from downtown Krakow.)
P.S. Out of respect, I decided not to post any pictures from our visit to Auschwitz. I believe that Auschwitz deserves its own full post. However, I am not sure if I am ready to go there.
Throughout the course of our trip, we toured museums and castles and we ate TONS of perogies. (Yum!) We were also shown around some small towns in "real" Poland via A. Rodriguez (no, NOT A-Rod!), our friend from UNC.
Lastly, we also paid our respects to and mourned over those who perished at Auschwitz. There, we learned a great deal about the Polish perspective on World War II.
Sifting through the 150 pictures from our trip, I found myself wondering how to narrow down our visit to just five snapshots. Should I include a picture from Auschwitz? What about the view from our rented apartment? Or pictures from Poles celebrating Easter? Did I even mention that we were there over Easter weekend?
Additionally, Poland is developing. Much of the country is still overrun with poverty. Should I focus on the contrast between the beauty and newness of downtown Krakow and the rundown outskirts of town? So many questions...
Without further ado, my answer is below. I decided to focus on KRAKOW:
View of Downtown Krakow from Outside the City Gate
(Gothic Castle built in the Center of Krakow sometime before the 14th century.)
Rundown Train Station Outside of Krakow(Traveling by train in Poland is actually quite an adventure. Most stations either have one hard to read sign or no sign with the stations' names. Announcements are only made in Polish. And, the trains run pretty slowly. In order to exit at the correct station, one must know the exact time of arrival to said location. If the train is late, you are pretty much out of luck.)
Graffiti in the Old Jewish Quarter, Krakow
Kraków-Płaszów Camp Holocaust Memorial(In October 1942, Jews were deported from Krakow ghetto to a concentration camp at this site. The Nazis destroyed this camp in 1945, after which, the remaining prisoners were sentenced to a death march to Auschwitz. Now there are a few monuments scattered around the grounds. It only took Steve and I about 45 minutes to walk here from downtown Krakow.)
P.S. Out of respect, I decided not to post any pictures from our visit to Auschwitz. I believe that Auschwitz deserves its own full post. However, I am not sure if I am ready to go there.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Parrots and Pictures
Where was my camera when I needed it today?! While riding the tram home, a woman boarded with a parrot. Yes, A PARROT! And no, I was not hallucinating.
Luckily, it was a very well behaved parrot. It did not squawk or defecate during the ride. Yet, I was a bit sad that the parrot didn't talk. I wanted to know if it speaks German.
In turn, the parrot left me pondering a curiosity I developed, sparked by watching old seasons of "The West Wing": Is Sign Language a universal language? For example, if a taub German and deaf American want to communicate, are they able to do so with out learning a new language?
Realistically speaking, I guess I already already knew the answer (duh Jamie, ASL - American Sign Language), but fortunately for you, I looked it up anyway. Through Wikipedia, I learned that like oral languages, sign language followed its own path of development. Even British Sign Language and American Sign Language are "mutually unintelligible," even though the two countries share the same spoken word.
Anyway, I am going to take the next few days to post my top five favorite pictures from each place Steve and I have traveled over the past few months. If you're nice, I may even share some stories along the way.
First up, BERLIN (March 2010):
Park Inn Hotel, Alexanderplatz
(This is the amazing view from our 27th floor room during our stay for a Fulbright Conference. It was amazing!)
Knut
(As a baby, Knut made headline news as a baby polar bear born in captivity at the Zoologischer Garten Berlin. Now, Knut is all grown up.)
Salz und Pfeffer
(Make no mistake, the lids on these salt and pepper shakers, at a random vegetarian restaurant in Berlin, were not switched as a practical joke. On average, Germans love salt and detest spice.)
The Robot
(Dancing at a chili - yes, the meat dish - party. Enough said.)
Brandenburg Gate at Night
(Once commissioned as a sign of peace, this Gate continues to awe me.)
Luckily, it was a very well behaved parrot. It did not squawk or defecate during the ride. Yet, I was a bit sad that the parrot didn't talk. I wanted to know if it speaks German.
In turn, the parrot left me pondering a curiosity I developed, sparked by watching old seasons of "The West Wing": Is Sign Language a universal language? For example, if a taub German and deaf American want to communicate, are they able to do so with out learning a new language?
Realistically speaking, I guess I already already knew the answer (duh Jamie, ASL - American Sign Language), but fortunately for you, I looked it up anyway. Through Wikipedia, I learned that like oral languages, sign language followed its own path of development. Even British Sign Language and American Sign Language are "mutually unintelligible," even though the two countries share the same spoken word.
Anyway, I am going to take the next few days to post my top five favorite pictures from each place Steve and I have traveled over the past few months. If you're nice, I may even share some stories along the way.
First up, BERLIN (March 2010):
Park Inn Hotel, Alexanderplatz(This is the amazing view from our 27th floor room during our stay for a Fulbright Conference. It was amazing!)
Knut(As a baby, Knut made headline news as a baby polar bear born in captivity at the Zoologischer Garten Berlin. Now, Knut is all grown up.)
Salz und Pfeffer(Make no mistake, the lids on these salt and pepper shakers, at a random vegetarian restaurant in Berlin, were not switched as a practical joke. On average, Germans love salt and detest spice.)
The Robot(Dancing at a chili - yes, the meat dish - party. Enough said.)
Brandenburg Gate at Night(Once commissioned as a sign of peace, this Gate continues to awe me.)
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Spoiled
Today, after glancing through my friend's photos on Facebook of his adventures in South America and ANTARCTICA (!!), I thought to myself "Man, I wish I was venturing around the world." Then, I felt stupid.
When I first moved to Munich, it seemed totally foreign. I learned about so many cultural differences between Germany and America. For example:
a) Breakfast is an event. Germans even have a verb solely for the act of eating it: frühstücken.
b) Dogs roam the street ohne leashes. They are well trained, never bark, and obiediently follow their owners everywhere.
c) In the rare case that a dog might be the cause of an accident (i.e. run in front of a car to cause a crash, etc.), dog owners are required to buy dog insurance.
d) Speaking of insurance, Germans have insurance for their insurance. Believe me! It's true.
d) Nudity is everywhere. In ads. On TV. You just become accustomed to it. NBD (no big deal).
e) In previous posts, I have already discussed some of the many differences between German and American cuisine, but I guess you can also consider both countries "mean and potatoes".
f) Everything is closed on Sunday (at least in Bavaria). EVERYTHING.
g) In regards to Sundays, Germany is a pretty religious country. Most of the public holidays are also religious holidays.
h) And, speaking of religion, Fußball is the only religion...oops, I mean sport in Germany.
Etc. etc.
However, now I feel pretty comfortable in Germany. I know my way around Munich. I don't get sweaty anymore (from nerves) when I try to order food from the baker. My German is somewhat understandable. I call our apartment "home".
And, maybe that's why the travel bug is biting again?
As a remedy, Steve and I are traveling to Vienna today. (Or maybe, it's just because his undergraduate adviser asked us to visit.) Either way, it's too bad Wien is still in the middle of German speaking Central Europe. Oh well! At least we can get a feel for the high opera/classical music, coffee, wine, schnitzel, and Sacher torte culture that Germany lacks.
In all reality, I am very excited to travel to Wien!
AND,
I know, and recognize, that I'm spoiled.
My only advice?
Come visit...
Then, you can be spoiled, too!
When I first moved to Munich, it seemed totally foreign. I learned about so many cultural differences between Germany and America. For example:
a) Breakfast is an event. Germans even have a verb solely for the act of eating it: frühstücken.
b) Dogs roam the street ohne leashes. They are well trained, never bark, and obiediently follow their owners everywhere.
c) In the rare case that a dog might be the cause of an accident (i.e. run in front of a car to cause a crash, etc.), dog owners are required to buy dog insurance.
d) Speaking of insurance, Germans have insurance for their insurance. Believe me! It's true.
d) Nudity is everywhere. In ads. On TV. You just become accustomed to it. NBD (no big deal).
e) In previous posts, I have already discussed some of the many differences between German and American cuisine, but I guess you can also consider both countries "mean and potatoes".
f) Everything is closed on Sunday (at least in Bavaria). EVERYTHING.
g) In regards to Sundays, Germany is a pretty religious country. Most of the public holidays are also religious holidays.
h) And, speaking of religion, Fußball is the only religion...oops, I mean sport in Germany.
Etc. etc.
However, now I feel pretty comfortable in Germany. I know my way around Munich. I don't get sweaty anymore (from nerves) when I try to order food from the baker. My German is somewhat understandable. I call our apartment "home".
And, maybe that's why the travel bug is biting again?
As a remedy, Steve and I are traveling to Vienna today. (Or maybe, it's just because his undergraduate adviser asked us to visit.) Either way, it's too bad Wien is still in the middle of German speaking Central Europe. Oh well! At least we can get a feel for the high opera/classical music, coffee, wine, schnitzel, and Sacher torte culture that Germany lacks.
In all reality, I am very excited to travel to Wien!
AND,
I know, and recognize, that I'm spoiled.
My only advice?
Come visit...
Then, you can be spoiled, too!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Young at Heart
As I mentioned previously, my brother and his friend Chris came to Munich for a visit a couple of months ago (during their college spring break). Being surround by "buggers" five-and-a-half years younger, I was reminded what very-early-20-something-dom is like, while also being made to feel twice my age.
I know, you are probably thinking, "How could you possibly feel 54 (that's twice my age and almost my parents' age...and oh man, that's scary!) when you look like you're 18 (or 14, for that matter)?"
S. O. T.
Stage. Of. Life.
Anyway, what difference does it make whether or not I look young (besides the fact that when I actually am 54, I will be thankful that I still look 18)? Until then, can we please just accept that I am 27 and move on?
Zum Beispiel:
During our wintertime Boston visit, I was the only person carded for my choice-beverage during our Snow-Milder FAMILY (meaning parents included) dinner in the North End. Even my five-and-a-half-year-younger sibling was there and ordered a drink without being asked for ID. Then, on my March 2010 US Tour, I was carded when...wait for it...I WENT TO SEE AN R-RATED MOVIE at the Village with Ginia. Annnd, to top that off, two years ago I was presumed to be an eighth grader while leading a junior youth group bowling trip in good 'ole NC.
Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, my brother's trip...
See.
I am getting old,
AND forgetful,
AND I have arthritis in my hips.
Yikes!
To spare you another crazy tangent, I am going to skip the gory details of the internal dilemma sparked by my brother's visit about the Grenze between being youthful (i.e. drinking a Mass or three at the Hofbrauhaus, horsing around, and playing "drunk driving" - don't worry, that's my brother's nickname for a card game - until 3:00am)...
and being mature (providing daily wake-up calls so my younger guests wouldn't sleep until 1:00pm and miss everything the day/Germany has to offer and packing my brother's suitcase so his souvenirs wouldn't break)...
a.k.a. (most likely) my fear of getting older, which probably stems from the fact that my college graduation was almost exactly five years and two or three days ago AND there is already a Facebook group for my 10-year high school reunion (where does the time go??).
Wow.
Longest run-on sentence EVER.
And, I clearly already went on another (hopefully shorter, but probably longer) tangent.
Oh well.
From now on, in place of worrying about these things, I am going to focus on being young-at-heart.
And with that, here are the photos:
Sibling Love
Chris Contemplating a Bite of Jellied Meat
(He succeeded. We were very proud of him, but not so willing to take the risk ourselves.)
Crosswalk
(Salzburg, Austria)
My Brother... On Top of the World
(Just kidding! That's art in Salzburg.)
Drei Junge: Three Boys
I know, you are probably thinking, "How could you possibly feel 54 (that's twice my age and almost my parents' age...and oh man, that's scary!) when you look like you're 18 (or 14, for that matter)?"
S. O. T.
Stage. Of. Life.
Anyway, what difference does it make whether or not I look young (besides the fact that when I actually am 54, I will be thankful that I still look 18)? Until then, can we please just accept that I am 27 and move on?
Zum Beispiel:
During our wintertime Boston visit, I was the only person carded for my choice-beverage during our Snow-Milder FAMILY (meaning parents included) dinner in the North End. Even my five-and-a-half-year-younger sibling was there and ordered a drink without being asked for ID. Then, on my March 2010 US Tour, I was carded when...wait for it...I WENT TO SEE AN R-RATED MOVIE at the Village with Ginia. Annnd, to top that off, two years ago I was presumed to be an eighth grader while leading a junior youth group bowling trip in good 'ole NC.
Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, my brother's trip...
See.
I am getting old,
AND forgetful,
AND I have arthritis in my hips.
Yikes!
To spare you another crazy tangent, I am going to skip the gory details of the internal dilemma sparked by my brother's visit about the Grenze between being youthful (i.e. drinking a Mass or three at the Hofbrauhaus, horsing around, and playing "drunk driving" - don't worry, that's my brother's nickname for a card game - until 3:00am)...
and being mature (providing daily wake-up calls so my younger guests wouldn't sleep until 1:00pm and miss everything the day/Germany has to offer and packing my brother's suitcase so his souvenirs wouldn't break)...
a.k.a. (most likely) my fear of getting older, which probably stems from the fact that my college graduation was almost exactly five years and two or three days ago AND there is already a Facebook group for my 10-year high school reunion (where does the time go??).
Wow.
Longest run-on sentence EVER.
And, I clearly already went on another (hopefully shorter, but probably longer) tangent.
Oh well.
From now on, in place of worrying about these things, I am going to focus on being young-at-heart.
And with that, here are the photos:
Sibling Love
Chris Contemplating a Bite of Jellied Meat(He succeeded. We were very proud of him, but not so willing to take the risk ourselves.)
Crosswalk(Salzburg, Austria)
My Brother... On Top of the World(Just kidding! That's art in Salzburg.)
Drei Junge: Three BoysTuesday, May 4, 2010
Staff of Life
Last week, because Steve was reduced to eating crap while performing his research in Karlsruhe, I decided to make him a super-special dinner for his homecoming on Friday. But sadly, I failed. Why? Because, I forgot to buy bread. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but as many of you know, my husband is a breadaholic. Additionally, the stores in Munich close at 8:00pm on weekdays and sometimes earlier on weekends. By the time dinner was on the table, there was no way to get to the store in time for our missing staff of life.
"We can buy bread tomorrow." I assured Steve, as we sat down to dinner.
However, as it turned out, Saturday was May Day or International Workers' Day or the real Labor Day; and, therefore, ALL of the stores were closed, including the hundreds of thousands of bakeries scattered around the city. And because Munich is a very religious city, all (well almost all) stores are closed on Sundays too.
Thus, there was a ginormous line at the grocery store yesterday. (Too bad I forgot my camera.) And, when I forgot to buy bread, guess who decided NOT to get back in the 45-minute line. Me!
With my husband almost reduced to tears (okay, okay...this is a bit of an exaggeration), I decided to make my first homemade loaf of bread (not including quick bread) EVER. Yikes! And...
Ta-da:
You may scoff and say, "Bread is not that hard to make." But please understand that with our extremely limited Munich kitchen (which only includes one big bowl, does not include a mixer of any kind - standing or hand-held, and does not include a bread pan) this was quite the feat. Twelve minutes of kneading is a lot of kneading. I think my arm muscles started pleading with me to stop moving around minute number four.
However, fresh out of the oven, the delicious bread smell was worth the pain. I felt like shouting, "I am the master!" But decided better of it at 12:00am to avoid upset neighbors.
How did it taste? Like bread! Not bad for my first time...and now I am ready for round two.
"We can buy bread tomorrow." I assured Steve, as we sat down to dinner.
However, as it turned out, Saturday was May Day or International Workers' Day or the real Labor Day; and, therefore, ALL of the stores were closed, including the hundreds of thousands of bakeries scattered around the city. And because Munich is a very religious city, all (well almost all) stores are closed on Sundays too.
Thus, there was a ginormous line at the grocery store yesterday. (Too bad I forgot my camera.) And, when I forgot to buy bread, guess who decided NOT to get back in the 45-minute line. Me!
With my husband almost reduced to tears (okay, okay...this is a bit of an exaggeration), I decided to make my first homemade loaf of bread (not including quick bread) EVER. Yikes! And...
Ta-da:
You may scoff and say, "Bread is not that hard to make." But please understand that with our extremely limited Munich kitchen (which only includes one big bowl, does not include a mixer of any kind - standing or hand-held, and does not include a bread pan) this was quite the feat. Twelve minutes of kneading is a lot of kneading. I think my arm muscles started pleading with me to stop moving around minute number four.
However, fresh out of the oven, the delicious bread smell was worth the pain. I felt like shouting, "I am the master!" But decided better of it at 12:00am to avoid upset neighbors.
How did it taste? Like bread! Not bad for my first time...and now I am ready for round two.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Boot Camp
A few months ago, looking for part-time positions in Munich, I came across an ad for an individual looking to hire a cook for five people currently living in the Munich area. As someone who loves to shop for food, cook, and bake, I thought that this could be a cool opportunity for a few months, before entering the "real world" again. So, I responded to the ad and quickly learned that the position had, sadly, been filled.
Then, just three weeks ago, while in Berlin, I received and email from Jake* wondering if I was still interested in the position.
"Yes!" I responded, but also let Jake know that I was in Berlin and wouldn't be back in Munich for a couple of weeks. He asked me to let him know when I returned so we could schedule an interview.
Upon returning to Munich on a Wednesday night, I emailed Jake and let him know that I was back in town and probed him for more details about the position. The next morning, Jake called me at 10:30am to see if I was available for an interview that day, just an hour and a half after his call. He also said that he could not discuss details of the job over the phone or via email and that I would find out everything once I arrived for the interview.
Not yet showered and dressed, I said that I was happy to make the 45 minute trek across town and could be at his apartment at 12:00pm. Hurriedly, I rushed to shower and get dressed for the "casual" interview.
At this point in my story, this cook position and interview may seem a bit sketchy. So, I would like to note that throughout our correspondence, Jake was completely professional and always emailed me from a state.gov email address. I was never worried about my safety.
On my way to the interview, I fantasized about who I would be cooking for...consular officers, big-time government officials, maybe even Obama, himself?!
Once I arrived outside Jake's apartment complex, per his instructions, I called him. He informed me that he was still at work and I would be let in and then interviewed by his supervisor, Ross*.
Five minutes later, I see an extremely buff 20-something male bounding across the complex, swinging his arms like a young Arnold Swarzenegger. He approached the gate, introduced himself, and asked me to follow him up to the apartment. We briefly passed a friendly security guard who double checked that I was, indeed, the interviewee. Then, I ran to keep up with Ross as we sped to the apartment.
After being taken through a college man's dream pad filled with a pool table, guitar hero, and a flat screen TV bigger than me, I sat down with Ross for my interview.
I soon found out that I was interviewing to cook for five marines, here in Munich on one of their many annual rotations, sent to protect the US Consulate. "Cool?!" I though. "Could be interesting..."
Throughout my interview, Ross did not ask me a lot of questions. Instead he sternly examined my resume. His first concern was that I majored in Journalism in college, even though my resume does not show any experience in that field. Cooking in a house full of marines, he was worried that I could easily get them in trouble via the written word. In response, I expressed that I do not do anything with my degree, but also failed to mention that I have a blog. (Yet, I also did not mention, but was willing to sign a contract stating that I would not write anything about my experiences cooking at their house.)
Ross's second concern was that there was no cooking experience on my resume. Anticipating this, I explained to Ross that I love to cook, read food blogs everyday, etc. etc.
This resulted in me being forced to cook an impromptu meal for the five marines with whatever they had on stock in their kitchen. Basically, all I had to work with was canned food and a freezer full of meat. I felt like I was on a poor man's version of Top Chef.
Deciding what to make, I referred to part of my conversation during my earlier interview with Ross:
Ross: What is your cooking specialty?
Me: A dish or a type of food?
Ross: Both.
Me: Well, I can make a delicious bolognese sauce.
Ross: What is bolognese?
Me: Meat sauce.
Ross: Oh, okay. What else can you cook?
Me: Italian, Indian, Asian...
Ross: Can you make Mexican food?
With that and figuring the marines (probably all from the southern half of the United States - and yes I was right) would enjoy a taste of home, I decided to make chili and corn bread.
While cooking in their huge American-style kitchen, I learned that these 20-something marine boys do not recycle. At first this made me angry. And then, disappointed. "Typical Americans," I thought. "Shame on you!"
Then, I thought of the impact my employment could make on their lifestyle. I was ready to start a recycling program for these proud men (which is easy, or at least a priority in Germany).
Regarding my chili, coming from Texas, Ross approved of my meal and said that they would be in touch after I filled out a huge packet of papers for my background check, including a list of all the places I have lived in the past ten years (11 total), whether or not I have ever belonged to a communist organization (no), and every contact I have in the United States (I skipped this question). Whew.
After running by the marines' house several times to deliver background check document after background check document, I did not get the job.
Jake said that they could not hire me due to the fact that they are looking for a long term cook and me being in Munich only three and half more months was not beneficial to their needs. However, in truth, maybe I wasn't hired because my husband and I have openly protested the war in Iraq. Maybe it was because I was a journalism major and I have a blog (thank you for the great writing material, by the way!). Or maybe, it was my just my chili. I guess I will never know...
* Names have been changed to protect those involved in this story, specifically me.
Then, just three weeks ago, while in Berlin, I received and email from Jake* wondering if I was still interested in the position.
"Yes!" I responded, but also let Jake know that I was in Berlin and wouldn't be back in Munich for a couple of weeks. He asked me to let him know when I returned so we could schedule an interview.
Upon returning to Munich on a Wednesday night, I emailed Jake and let him know that I was back in town and probed him for more details about the position. The next morning, Jake called me at 10:30am to see if I was available for an interview that day, just an hour and a half after his call. He also said that he could not discuss details of the job over the phone or via email and that I would find out everything once I arrived for the interview.
Not yet showered and dressed, I said that I was happy to make the 45 minute trek across town and could be at his apartment at 12:00pm. Hurriedly, I rushed to shower and get dressed for the "casual" interview.
At this point in my story, this cook position and interview may seem a bit sketchy. So, I would like to note that throughout our correspondence, Jake was completely professional and always emailed me from a state.gov email address. I was never worried about my safety.
On my way to the interview, I fantasized about who I would be cooking for...consular officers, big-time government officials, maybe even Obama, himself?!
Once I arrived outside Jake's apartment complex, per his instructions, I called him. He informed me that he was still at work and I would be let in and then interviewed by his supervisor, Ross*.
Five minutes later, I see an extremely buff 20-something male bounding across the complex, swinging his arms like a young Arnold Swarzenegger. He approached the gate, introduced himself, and asked me to follow him up to the apartment. We briefly passed a friendly security guard who double checked that I was, indeed, the interviewee. Then, I ran to keep up with Ross as we sped to the apartment.
After being taken through a college man's dream pad filled with a pool table, guitar hero, and a flat screen TV bigger than me, I sat down with Ross for my interview.
I soon found out that I was interviewing to cook for five marines, here in Munich on one of their many annual rotations, sent to protect the US Consulate. "Cool?!" I though. "Could be interesting..."
Throughout my interview, Ross did not ask me a lot of questions. Instead he sternly examined my resume. His first concern was that I majored in Journalism in college, even though my resume does not show any experience in that field. Cooking in a house full of marines, he was worried that I could easily get them in trouble via the written word. In response, I expressed that I do not do anything with my degree, but also failed to mention that I have a blog. (Yet, I also did not mention, but was willing to sign a contract stating that I would not write anything about my experiences cooking at their house.)
Ross's second concern was that there was no cooking experience on my resume. Anticipating this, I explained to Ross that I love to cook, read food blogs everyday, etc. etc.
This resulted in me being forced to cook an impromptu meal for the five marines with whatever they had on stock in their kitchen. Basically, all I had to work with was canned food and a freezer full of meat. I felt like I was on a poor man's version of Top Chef.
Deciding what to make, I referred to part of my conversation during my earlier interview with Ross:
Ross: What is your cooking specialty?
Me: A dish or a type of food?
Ross: Both.
Me: Well, I can make a delicious bolognese sauce.
Ross: What is bolognese?
Me: Meat sauce.
Ross: Oh, okay. What else can you cook?
Me: Italian, Indian, Asian...
Ross: Can you make Mexican food?
With that and figuring the marines (probably all from the southern half of the United States - and yes I was right) would enjoy a taste of home, I decided to make chili and corn bread.
While cooking in their huge American-style kitchen, I learned that these 20-something marine boys do not recycle. At first this made me angry. And then, disappointed. "Typical Americans," I thought. "Shame on you!"
Then, I thought of the impact my employment could make on their lifestyle. I was ready to start a recycling program for these proud men (which is easy, or at least a priority in Germany).
Regarding my chili, coming from Texas, Ross approved of my meal and said that they would be in touch after I filled out a huge packet of papers for my background check, including a list of all the places I have lived in the past ten years (11 total), whether or not I have ever belonged to a communist organization (no), and every contact I have in the United States (I skipped this question). Whew.
After running by the marines' house several times to deliver background check document after background check document, I did not get the job.
Jake said that they could not hire me due to the fact that they are looking for a long term cook and me being in Munich only three and half more months was not beneficial to their needs. However, in truth, maybe I wasn't hired because my husband and I have openly protested the war in Iraq. Maybe it was because I was a journalism major and I have a blog (thank you for the great writing material, by the way!). Or maybe, it was my just my chili. I guess I will never know...
* Names have been changed to protect those involved in this story, specifically me.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Third Base
Aaaaannnd, we're back! Welcome to procrastination central. I can't believe that April is already dwindling away, baseball season is in full swing, Kentucky Derby Day is fast approaching, and our last post was over one month ago. Yikes! Where did the time go?
As you can rightfully presume, Steve and I have been extremely busy the past couple of months. I spent the better part of February and March bouncing around the eastern half of the United States while Steve labored in the archives in Freiburg and conducted interesting interviews with former anti-nuclear activists in the Rhine region:
The "Ladies' Night" Group in Carrboro, North Carolina
(I also would have included a picture of one of Steve's research documents, but I am worried about German copy right laws.)
Just three days after we both returned to Munich, my brother and his good buddy, Chris, paid us a week-long visit during their college spring break:
Chris and My Brother, Michael
(Outside the Neue Rathaus in Munich, Germany)
Brandenburg Gate at Night
(Berlin, Germany)
Friends from UNC and Fulbright
(At a Kneipe in Berlin, Germany)
Immediately following, we ventured on a one week vacation to Krakow and Katowice for a little fun over the Easter holiday weekend:
St. Mary's Basilica
(Krakow, Poland)
"Where are all of the entertaining posts on all of our crazy adventures," you ask.
"Hopefully, coming..." I answer, with all of my memories thoughtfully churning through my mind, but also feeling slightly overwhelmed. Where to begin? In honor of the Red Sox, I will resume my blog posts by beginning with a baseball analogy.
After a long, gray Munich winter, my trip to the States was wonderful! Traveling to Miami, Louisville, Carrboro, Chicago, and New York, I got to catch up with so many of my amazing friends and family members. It was great being reconnected with so many fantastic communities. I was also blessed with gorgeous 70 degree sunny weather everywhere I passed through; and, in so many ways, my trip was absolutely rejuvenating.
As you can imagine, everyone had questions about what it is like living in Germany. Sitting over tea or a glass or two of wine while discussing my time abroad, the first question every asked was something along the lines of, "Do you have any friends in Munich?"
At first I was a little offended by this question. But, after giving it some thought, it seemed completely fair and the answer is more complex than I originally imagined.
In short, Steve and I do have a few friends in Munich. Are they German? Yes and no.
Steve is connected to the Rachel Carson Center through the LMU in Munich. Through this institute, we have met other Americans conducting doctoral research here in Munich (and their wonderful spouses). However, sadly, most of them have traveled back to the United States. (Thanks a lot, Andy and Whitney.) We have also met people through my language classes and other various outlets.
Yet, making German friends in Germany is extremely complicated. In general, at first meeting, Germans seem very cold and standoffish. They are generally scared and taken aback by "fake", bubbly American personalities. To Germans, a friend is someone you can trust and tend to know very well.
For example (here's where baseball...or dating...comes into play), getting to know my German tandem partner, Jana, was like starting a long-term relationship. "First base" or our first few "dates" consisted of meeting at a bar or restaurant for tea or a beer. As time went by and we got to know each other a little better, we moved to "second base," play dates at the park and walks around each of our neighborhoods. Months into our relationship, Jana invited me over to her house for a beer. This was a huge step!
Now, after almost half a year of going to bat, Jana and I invite each other over for dinner and sincerely enjoy spending time together. We are rounding third and I think we are becoming true friends.
As you can rightfully presume, Steve and I have been extremely busy the past couple of months. I spent the better part of February and March bouncing around the eastern half of the United States while Steve labored in the archives in Freiburg and conducted interesting interviews with former anti-nuclear activists in the Rhine region:
The "Ladies' Night" Group in Carrboro, North Carolina(I also would have included a picture of one of Steve's research documents, but I am worried about German copy right laws.)
Chris and My Brother, Michael(Outside the Neue Rathaus in Munich, Germany)
Then, the day after they left, Steve and I took a two week trip to Berlin for two conferences, his research, and to visit friends:
Brandenburg Gate at Night(Berlin, Germany)
Friends from UNC and Fulbright(At a Kneipe in Berlin, Germany)
St. Mary's Basilica(Krakow, Poland)
"Hopefully, coming..." I answer, with all of my memories thoughtfully churning through my mind, but also feeling slightly overwhelmed. Where to begin? In honor of the Red Sox, I will resume my blog posts by beginning with a baseball analogy.
After a long, gray Munich winter, my trip to the States was wonderful! Traveling to Miami, Louisville, Carrboro, Chicago, and New York, I got to catch up with so many of my amazing friends and family members. It was great being reconnected with so many fantastic communities. I was also blessed with gorgeous 70 degree sunny weather everywhere I passed through; and, in so many ways, my trip was absolutely rejuvenating.
As you can imagine, everyone had questions about what it is like living in Germany. Sitting over tea or a glass or two of wine while discussing my time abroad, the first question every asked was something along the lines of, "Do you have any friends in Munich?"
At first I was a little offended by this question. But, after giving it some thought, it seemed completely fair and the answer is more complex than I originally imagined.
In short, Steve and I do have a few friends in Munich. Are they German? Yes and no.
Steve is connected to the Rachel Carson Center through the LMU in Munich. Through this institute, we have met other Americans conducting doctoral research here in Munich (and their wonderful spouses). However, sadly, most of them have traveled back to the United States. (Thanks a lot, Andy and Whitney.) We have also met people through my language classes and other various outlets.
Yet, making German friends in Germany is extremely complicated. In general, at first meeting, Germans seem very cold and standoffish. They are generally scared and taken aback by "fake", bubbly American personalities. To Germans, a friend is someone you can trust and tend to know very well.
For example (here's where baseball...or dating...comes into play), getting to know my German tandem partner, Jana, was like starting a long-term relationship. "First base" or our first few "dates" consisted of meeting at a bar or restaurant for tea or a beer. As time went by and we got to know each other a little better, we moved to "second base," play dates at the park and walks around each of our neighborhoods. Months into our relationship, Jana invited me over to her house for a beer. This was a huge step!
Now, after almost half a year of going to bat, Jana and I invite each other over for dinner and sincerely enjoy spending time together. We are rounding third and I think we are becoming true friends.
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