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!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
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.
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