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.

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)

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)

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.