Andrew in Deutschland

Cold weather makes for good pictures

2009-01-12T01:24:00.006+01:00

I feel a bit awkward about this picture. It was really a "turn and shoot," with my pocket cam. I cropped it and leveled it. But I like it, a lot. After a lot of long, grey cold days, crisp air makes everything look good. As does enjoying it with a girlfriend who is tugging your arm to move on because, "It's cold!"

The snowy expanse to the left is where the Palast der Republik, a key cultural and political center for the east, before reunification, once stood. It was an ugly, iconic, monolithic building that they began demolishing when I first arrived. Because it was filled with toxic materials (asbestos, etc.), they had to dismantle it piece by piece. The final elements were only recently removed, making this picture more meaningful, as this view hasn't existed for years. (The Palast was built on the site of the king's castle, a facsimile of which will now be built on the empty site.) More, and more accurate, info here: Palast der Republik

Quick Observation

2008-12-25T12:31:00.002+01:00

In the US, they sell Christmas cards that say Merry Christmas in many languages. Adds a cosmopolitan flair.

Yesterday I got an email card from a friend here. She wrote, "BUON NATALE, FROHE WEIHNACHTEN, JOYEUX NOEL, MERRY CHRISTMAS."

What makes it meaningful, to me, is that she wasn't showing off. She is Italian, lives in Germany, works in an English-speaking office, and converses with her husband primarily in French.

As Eddie Izzard says, "I think if we can make it work in Europe, it's almost a blueprint for the future of the world. If we can get all these countries, with all their languages, coming together to work in some shape or form, then the whole world can work. And if we can't get it working in Europe, the world has got no chance. Those are the stakes."

My friend is certainly trying her best!

Hey, we beat North Korea, at least!

2008-12-18T18:48:00.004+01:00

WorldPublicOpinion.org

"The average percentage saying that the US is having a positive influence has increased from 31 per cent a year ago to 35 per cent today while the view that it is having a negative influence has declined from 52 per cent to 47 per cent."

So....now slightly less than half the world thinks we are a negative influence. You take what you can get and call it progress, I suppose.

There's some great info on this site. Well worth spending some time poking around. Warning, though: If you're American, and have any self-awareness (or sense of shame) whatsoever, you will find it depressing. Hopefully not surprising, but definitely depressing.

My German compatriots, however, can celebrate (gut gemacht!), and I can take some solace in their ability to rebuild an international reputation that was, by most counts, pretty crappy not all that long ago.

Let it snow!

2008-11-23T01:00:00.003+01:00

I don't have pictures yet, but it's snowing!

I used to make fun of my east coast friends for saying that you need to have seasons, but after a gorgeous autumn, and now walking out and finding the street truly covered in snow (not Boston style, but still a good half-inch dusting), I am starting to agree.

And since my snow tires are still in my friend's basement, 20 miles away, I guess I won't be driving for awhile. German law says that if you have an accident without appropriate tires, you're automatically at fault. (Which makes sense.) Last year it barely snowed at all, though, so I didn't feel pressed to change them this year. My bad.

And Nicole is going to be mad that I didn't cover the BBQ in time.

But nevertheless, I can't ignore the child-like glee of, "It's snowing!" Maybe it's because I spent my first 18 years in a place where it decidedly does not snow, or maybe it's because snow covers up a lot of ugliness, and, in this case, comes just at the right time to make the leafless trees look pretty again.

Whatever the reason, Berlin looks pretty tonight. Now just give me a month to get tired of slipping on the sidewalk.

August Catch Up

2008-10-20T00:38:00.000+02:00

Two big events in August that I drafted a post for, but never posted, due to challenges getting the pictures aligned. As you can see, I've now just given up. Apologies!

Nicole knows a wonderful family, whose son, Ralf, is an accomplished musician and singer. As a result, I got to go to the "Night of 1000 Voices", a choral festival held in one of my favorite squares in Berlin, the Gendarmenmarkt. Berlin doesn't actually have very many "squares", in the traditional European sense (due, in part, to how the city was planned and, in part, the war). This is one of the gems. It was a wonderful show, in a beautiful setting, and I thank Ralf, his family, and Nicole, for the opportunity.

Ralf then outdid himself by inviting me to a Hertha BSC football game. Football being soccer, and Hertha BSC being Berlin's beloved team. They play at the Olympic Stadium, and it was my first time seeing them, and my first time seeing the stadium in person. We capped that off with a wonderful dinner at a great Italian restaurant.

Both events were monumentally great (although Hertha tied 1-1).

Thanks to everyone for continuing m y cultural education, even if I do look like a fool with a long football scarf around my neck.

Go Pato, Go Pato

2008-09-23T00:36:00.003+02:00

Most people know I'm a strongly committed atheist. But when I see something like this, I have to share it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7VII-u7hqY&feature=related

For context, Pato is a huge reggae star, and has been around forever. I was a fan in the 80's if that helps provide perspective, and have seen him live twice.

The joy he shows here transcends the debate, and is just plain fun. And let's face it...that's worth a lot these days.

Spain

2008-09-21T16:56:00.005+02:00

I spent the last 10 days in Spain with my mom. My legs hurt. She may be a bit older than me, but boy can she walk. We did Barcelona, one of my favorite cities, Bilboa -- for the Guggenheim -- and San Sebastian, an incredibly charming beach town with a reputation for tapas that is well deserved, especially if you're armed with recommendations from a local. Overall, I believe the count was 9 out of the 10 must sees in every spot covered, with fun, random adventure thrown in for good measure. A wonderful trip.

Pics are here: http://travel.webshots.com/album/567243150EkZUCN

Silliness

2008-09-03T01:16:00.002+02:00

I actually didn't mean for this blog to get so political. But even 3000 miles away, I can't seem to avoid the silliness. Part of me feels completely vindicated...I have said all along that McCain does weird things just at the right time. This one is weirder than I could have predicted. But dragging a pregnant 17 year old girl into it. Not cricket. There's a reason I don't watch soap operas, and this is it. Have some respect for personal lives, people, or did we lose that with the Patriot Act?

Biden his time

2008-08-24T13:07:00.003+02:00

I saw Biden speak after his 1988 presidential run and remember being impressed by his intelligence and sense of humor. Pleased to see him back on the ticket.

I found this video, from his short-lived run this time around, which encapsulates both qualities quite nicely:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XberX_t-WvI

Follow-up

2008-07-30T23:22:00.002+02:00

I got a real kick out of this Obama quote, cited in a recent New Yorker article:

Marty Nesbitt remembers Obama’s utter calm the day he gave his celebrated speech at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, in Boston, which made him an international celebrity and a potential 2008 Presidential candidate. “We were walking down the street late in the afternoon,” Nesbitt told me. “And this crowd was building behind us, like it was Tiger Woods at the Masters.”
“Barack, man, you’re like a rock star,” Nesbitt said.
“Yeah, if you think it’s bad today, wait until tomorrow,” Obama replied.
“What do you mean?”
“My speech,” Obama said, “is pretty good.” ♦

Talk about confidence. I don't actually have much to say about the speech itself, but what a great quote.

If there's anyone reading this who still hasn't seen the "pretty good" speech, it's here.

The Next US President

2008-07-25T01:54:00.005+02:00

I didn't go.

Having now watched multiple videos and checked out the press coverage, I don't regret my decision. I'm not a fan of big crowds in confined spaces. And this one was BIG. I decided I didn't need the headaches just to confirm what I already know: he's one charismatic man.

But I was very happy watching it after the fact. The man is an incredible speaker.

And, my god. The photo ops!

I may follow up with some thoughts about why his presence here was greeted so enthusiastically, but for now, the short version is: "not Bush." I say presence, by the way, because I was a little disappointed by the content. 80% of his speech could have been given by any candidate. However, one part made me sit up and take notice:

"I know my country has not perfected itself. At times, we've struggled to keep the promise of liberty and equality for all of our people. We've made our share of mistakes, and there are times when our actions around the world have not lived up to our best intentions."

I will never forget a German friend explaining to me that there was a time when the European image of Americans was a positive one. We rode in on tanks after the fall of Berlin, and we turned out to be decent people. The world saw us as the good guys. And then we lost it.

My stomach sank, because I know he's right. It takes decades to build that kind of reputation and just a few to lose it. Restoring it will require humility, and Obama is the first major politician who has the balls to admit we've gone off track. He won my heart with those lines alone. The first step is admitting you have a problem.

But for now, I want to publicly continue an email conversation I've been having with an old friend. One of the reasons I am here (i.e., Berlin) and not there (i.e., somewhere in the US), is this kind of asinine journalism.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZEZonhH9h8&feature=related

"Totally gaffe-tastic" says the Barbie who somehow gets into a million homes. How about totally irresponsible reporting?

I agree that a war monument of any sort might not have been the best choice. There are beautiful settings in and around Berlin that would have been large enough for the crowd and conveyed a more neutral iconography. However, the Siegesaule is not a Hitler monument. Full stop. The fact that three "journalists" wet their pants in excitement while implying that it is (all the while carefully couching their language by using words like "linked to") makes it that much more repellent.

That after getting the facts completely wrong, they moved to a comparison of photoshopped T-shirts just...well, I'm not going to share more of my feelings on an open blog. I know journalism isn't necessarily better here, or anywhere, but it terrifies me that a large portion of Americans are getting their facts from Fox.

All I can say is that I if Obama can carry over 20% of his conviction about the importance of forming a world citizenship when he becomes president, I will be happy that I voted for him. (There's actually some math in my mind that led to 20%. It starts with the percent of Americans who believe that the US is the only country that matters and that our supremacy must be maintained at all costs, acknowledges the reality of the voting populace, and works down from there. Sadly.)

I promise my next post will either be funny or include pretty pictures. :)

A.

P.S.: For a take on the local reaction, check here: http://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/0,1518,567926,00.html

Cross-Cultural Understanding

2008-07-04T01:05:00.006+02:00

I admit, I spent most of the day composing a bit of a rant, after realizing how tough it is to find a dry cleaner here who doesn't look as if you've asked for their next-born child when you want a shirt cleaned by the end of the following day. I may still write it, since I pretty much finished it in my head. I was planning, in my defense, to balance it with great things about life here, as well.

But I stumbled upon this while surfing and got sidetracked. Rather heroically surfing, I must say, since it was linked to in an article about Stradavarius violins, which I got to through a sidebar ("Other interesting articles") on a page about whether men could lactate, which I got to after watching an episode of QI (a British panel quiz show) in which the host claimed they could. (They can, but it's highly unlikely.)

Anyyywayy.....

Stare at the chart for a while, then go here to decide whether you agree with the methodology and findings. I will remain neutral, like Switzerland, which happens to be a pretty happy place, it seems, if you surf around the site a bit. As is most of northern Europe, excluding Germany. Spain, France and Italy (sorry, Portugal) are also on a steady upward path (at least, through 2007).

By the way, I am not at ALL convinced by the methodology behind the "happiness" surveys, which basically ask "So, how are things going these days?" The findings make for wonderful human-interest segments in the press when the results come out each year, but I hope we all agree that happiness is a bit broader and ephemeral than that.

Oh yeah, here's where the long ride down the wave that is the internet began: http://youtube.com/watch?v=2vadSwzAijs&feature=related

Happy Birthday

2008-06-27T21:48:00.007+02:00

We interrupt this blog to wish my mother a happy birthday.

I will not be there to celebrate. However, as that is almost entirely her fault, hold the violins and/or the admonishing clucks.

You see, if not for her insistence on moving to Italy for a year when I was a teenager, I might very well still be living in Somewhere, USA and available to present the cake. (A lot of people really like Somewhere, USA, by the way. I'm not knocking it. I hear they have an excellent orchestra and plans for the bike path expansion are progressing. Plus there's that new Starbuck's opening, a block and a half closer.)

In any case, I find myself, today, in Berlin, not Somewhere, USA. Thus, my inability to celebrate in person. And it's her doing. Thanks to her seemingly limitless spirit of adventure (and perhaps not knowing any better), 1985 and 1986 found my mom, my sister and me living in a small apartment in a large villa overlooking Florence.

Fast forward to 2007, when I called to tell her I was leaving a pretty darn good job in Berlin to take a year off and do nothing but float around Europe. About a week later I got a card from her in the mail reiterating how excited she was about my decision and how sure she was that it was the right thing to do. You can't ask for a lot more than that, folks, admit it.

I always have a hard time finding the right birthday present for her, because she gave me the best ones I can think of: the understanding that our experience of humanity need not be defined by where we happen to have been born, and the confidence to test that understanding.

Happy birthday, mom. Vielen dank, grazie et merci.

Love,

Andrew

P.S. For the record, it is unlikely that I will ever become the traveler that she is. I enjoy Europe for reasons best explained over a glass of red wine in a sunny sidewalk cafe. She, on the other hand, has in recent years been to India, Japan, Africa, Costa Rica, Honduras, Alaska, Turkey etc. etc.

Berlin/Germany Expat Resources

2008-06-27T21:26:00.002+02:00

I've recently added a few links over in the sidebar to the left...yeah, over there. Bet you've never even looked. For the three readers I might have in Berlin, I thought I'd make it a bit more obvious by including them in a post. If English is your language, or one of them, they really are the best of what I've found over several years:

http://www.toytowngermany.com/ Especially the discussion forums, and of those, especially http://www.toytowngermany.com/lofi/index.php/f85.html
http://www.thelocal.de/
http://www.young-germany.de/index.html/
http://www.signandsight.com/
http://www.spiegel.de/international/0,1518,411291,00.html/

Some are useful for their community elements, others for a more local perspective on German and Berlin news, in English.

Hope it's useful for someone!

Cheers

Second Spreewald Follow-up

2008-06-25T00:22:00.004+02:00

After all that, I felt you deserved some closure.

The full set, as always, is available here: http://community.webshots.com/album/563900637HEoZXH

I had been to the Spreewald once before, but couldn't bring myself to ride the boats alone. Not out of fear, mind you, but embarrassment. Fortunately, Monica was there this time and we could laugh off the fact that we were about 50% below the average age of the others, and just enjoy a unique setting. For those considering going (and I do recommend it), I suggest either a longer boat ride (the two hour one we took is focused on the tourist traps near the harbor, while the longer ones appear to penetrate deeper into the non-touristy spots) or, better, renting a kayak or canoe and exploring on your own. The water is knee-deep at best, so while you might get lost, you won't drown. I'll bow to Wikipedia both in the interests of accuracy and time for more details: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spreewald.

In more news, my friend and ex-colleague Michael turned 50 recently, and celebrated it with amazing style. Pictures and details to follow. For now, let's just say that anyone who hires a full-blown German beer wagon, plays guitar to a packed crowd, and flies his brother in from the States to sing lead vocals in a truly good cover set, deserves a big Happy Birthday.

In even more (and the best) news, Nicole is back from holiday, and if she lets me, I hope to post some of her Greece pics here in the near future :) Seems she spent the whole time doing exactly what one is supposed to do on vacation. It's nice to have her back, to say the least.

Cheers,

A.

Follow-up

2008-06-20T01:42:00.003+02:00

Actually, the whole damn thing is amusing. Not as good as counterfeit bills, but still a salient reminder of the need to double-check machine translations.

Some of my other favorites include:

"SPREEWALD ballooning kidnaps you at a quiet weather situation in the endless liberty of the sky."

"How would it be cycle tracks with a cycle tour on the possible one for many by the lovely nature of the Spreewald?"

"According to an old legend the Spreewald is an unsuccessful work of the devil. When he ploughed the river bed of the Spree with his yoke of oxen long time ago, he had already got on a good piece, but the two draught animals showed themselves tired and wanted no longer so properly. This did not fit in the bogy. He furiously threw his cap after the cattle creatures and yelled at it: "Damned lazy cattle fetches you might be caught by my grandmother"!

http://www.spreewald-info.com/en/index.php

In San Francisco, I knew a store that sold an impressive variety of imported Japanese candy. As stocking stuffers one year, I bought a selection of chewy candies of dubious flavors because the packaging was so incredible. I can't remember the exact wording, but the basic gist was that eating this candy was akin to watching snowy white maidens float above a river of pink smelling ice snow in the summer while butterflies sang. All recipients were amused, though the candy itself was judged "odd".

Extra points to anyone who knows why "bogy" slipped into the translation.

Google has its strengths, but...

2008-06-20T01:31:00.002+02:00

I'm due for a longer update, I realize. It's summer, and I have pics from BBQs, nights out, long walks, the European UEFA championship (which seems to excite folks here even more than the World Cup did), and more.

But for now, I just had to share this translation I found on a website touting the virtues of the Spreewald, a densely forested area 100 km south of Berlin criss-crossed with canals, and an important wildlife reserve. Tourism is the main trade there these days, but the PR element is still maturing:

"The boat tour with canoe by the Spreewald is one of the most popular ways to discover this unique landscape. The waterways are marked very well. Numerous animal and species of plant wait to be discovered by you. Dragon-flies will accompany your paddle tour and canoe tour. High trees and rare counterfeit bills line the channels and make seem fantastic to the landscape of the Spreewald. Perhaps you are lucky and will see an otter, heron or even the rare kingfisher."

It was all going so well until the "counterfeit bills" part.

If anybody has an idea of what the German word(s) that got mangled might be, let me know. I assume it's "fake..." something, but really can't reverse engineer it!

Map, Take 2

2008-05-27T20:10:00.000+02:00

Let's try this one, instead:

Amsterdam

2008-03-27T14:37:00.003+01:00

For Easter Weekend, I went back to Amsterdam, this time with Nicole. I was there last summer for more than a week, and loved it. I am happy to report that I still do. Even with the weird, bad weather (snow/rain/sleet), it stood tall as a charming, cosmopolitan place. It has the feel of a small town, but with subtle reminders that it's actually quite plugged in. Having a three-story brownstone on a canal now vies with my dream of a Tuscan villa. Both in appeal and improbability, unfortunately.

On a related note, here's another reason why I don't think I'll pursue a career in travel writing. (Those who know me know how I feel about Peter Mayle et al.) This from a pretty well-respected US newspaper: "We ate like the locals, slowly savoring the simple fare."

Guess where they were? The south of France. Not exactly uncharted territory, and the "local fare" was steak and shrimp. Sorry, but I could write the same about a burger joint in Anaheim. It would just sound a lot less romantic.

Which leads me to the pic of the month, from a shop in Amsterdam that sells American and British food. The first person, other than Nicole :), to guess the price of a box of authentic American cereal gets that amount.

The rest of the pics can be found here: http://good-times.webshots.com/album/562911720cMCUtY

Cheers!

Bookmarking

2008-03-26T00:58:00.002+01:00

This certainly doesn't count as the mega-update I owe (give me one more week), but every few months I find myself searching for this little ditty. It's time to give it a home.

Recipe For Happiness Khaborovsk Or Anyplace

One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand cafe in sun
with strong black coffee in very small cups.

One not necessarily very beautiful
man or woman who loves you.

One fine day.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The Flat Earth, Pippi Style

2008-01-17T18:11:00.000+01:00

I can't tell you how happy finding this link again has made me. I have been searching for it on and off for a year and finally found it again today.

http://www.efraimstochter.de/songs/songgesamt.shtml

Dig the SUPER-groovy intro in the Finnish version.

Some of you may think it childish, but anyone headed to a hostel in Europe will find it extremely useful in fostering cross-cultural understanding. At least with others born before 1976.

Incisive, well-researched political entertainment...I mean, coverage

2008-01-16T13:26:00.000+01:00

I know I still owe a real update, but I came across this and thought I'd share it. (Thanks, Harry Shearer).

It's not a startling, dramatic, or shocking clip. It's just the camera running off-air in between on-air segments of Katie Couric covering the presidential campaign.

But watch it a couple of times and it becomes, at the very least, unsettling.

Katie is no Dan Rather, but as far as I understand it, she's a "respected, seasoned journalist" and I'm sure some people rely on her for news and analysis. Having watched this, I'm not sure I would rely on her to order a pizza without her staff to help.

And I don't mean to single her out. I'm sure this is actually pretty tame, compared to what other "journalists" are like.

Sigh. Oh well, back to WSJ Online.

http://www.breitbart.tv/?p=30054

Early Christmas Present

2007-12-18T15:52:00.000+01:00

I got an early Christmas present today from, of all places, the German bureaucracy. Seems that they had (quite efficiently, as one grows to expect) figured out that am I no longer working, and invited me in to "chat." A good friend here in Potsdam (whose help was hugely valuable) and I met today with the "Foreigner's Office" official. Although she began with the fairly standard facial expression of a bureaucrat confronting anything slightly out of the ordinary, our combined apparent trustworthiness and sincerity won out, and I am free to hang out doing nothing for at least another six months, at which time she'd like to chat again. Works for me, and it's a great feeling to know that I am still legally blessed. (Although, I have to admit that I was kind of hoping for some sort of stamp. No visit to a German official is complete without at least one seal or stamp hitting paper. Oh well.)

So, back to enjoying Weinacht in Germany. I have to say, Deutschland really does Christmas wonderfully. The picture above is from Dresden, but Christmas Markts, decidedly tasteful decorations, and fun traditions abound everywhere. For example: the aforementioned friend hosted a feuerzangenbowle party last weekend. I will try to explain more when I post a few pictures, but basically a feuerzangenbowle (which translates into English, according to another friend who would know, as "Fire Tongs Bowl") is red wine with fruit, into which one adds 108 proof rum (in increasing quantities as the night progresses, it seems) by soaking a large sugar cone which rests horizontally above the wine pot on a special metal holder, and then lighting the sugar so that the rum and sugar melt down into the wine. Yes, it's as cool and potentially dangerous as it sounds.

Unfortunately, my official stampless stamp of reapproval comes a bit too late to realistically make plans to head to the States for Christmas, so I will float around here a bit. Quite happily. If I go to Barcelona, for example, it will officially be a potential tradition.

Just in case I don't get around to it in the next seven days, Merry Christmas to those to whom it applies. I will do a longer note for New Year's Day, my preferred holiday anyway.

Cheers, all.

Nouveau

2007-11-07T12:30:00.000+01:00

I don't even LIKE art nouveau. It's cluttered and swirly and flowery. But I keep getting drawn back to it. There's symmetry, at least. And when you see something like this, you have to appreciate the energy and passion...

Follow-up

2007-11-06T22:11:00.000+01:00

Thinking more about "catching" rather than taking photographs, here's one where I obviously missed the boat. A pro would have stuck around (and would have had their SLR with them, but I draw the line sometimes). Even with my little pocket camera, I should have known better and spent a few more minutes snapping. The light, the leaves, the men. But the best I could do was a poorly composed snapshot with the trees cutting their heads off and barely a baci ball in sight.

La Nostalgie

2007-11-06T19:46:00.001+01:00

I like to take pictures. In weaker moments, I sometimes even call them photographs. But the reality is, I take a LOT of pictures and all but a few are average or below, and maybe 1% qualify as "good". To provide some sense of scale, I can actually think of all the pictures I've ever taken that I consider good. And since I'm hardly unbiased, divide that number by 10 and you might end up with a few actually decent photographs. My point -- and you need to understand this to properly digest what I want to convey -- is that some of us can make photographs, and some of us just get lucky enough to occassionally capture them. I'm in the latter group.

At some point in my twenties, it was either made clear to me, or I realised, that I needed to get the car posters off my walls (or at least frame them, which led to the same result). In their place, I chose what I thought were the three best pictures I had ever taken. They are now professionally printed, framed, and somewhere in storage.

One is of a church tower in Spain, seen reflected in the water of the fountain at its base. Cliche, but with wonderful, warm blues and oranges. I took that one while traveling in Spain and Portugal with Ian the summer before our semester in Paris.

One is from Venice: a very lucky black and white shot down a narrow canal, with the sun creating beams that shine in the air and reflect off the water. That one came just after the friend I was traveling with through Europe after high school hightailed it, leaving me da solo.

And the third is of a bridge over the Seine in Paris. To be honest, I don't remember the context well. Which suggests that I was probably on a Sunday walk, trying to shake off the effects of a Saturday night spent "wine tasting." (Translate and amplify as appropriate for a 20 year old student in Paris.) What I do recall is that it was very early in the morning. Before the internet, if I woke up before a sane hour (which happens more often than I care to admit), I'd sometimes venture out just to see what the world was like that early in the day. (Still do, though I've gotten better at grabbing those extra hours of sleep.)

Whatever the story, I ended up with something I still treasure, if not for the art, then for the emotion it evokes. And yeah, it's actually a damn good picture. The exposure is perfect. Jet black to snow white. The composition is faultless. And it evokes real emotion. No cars, no people. Just a bridge, glistening with recent rainfall, and with a bit of haze still in the air. It's obviously early morning, it's obviously winter, and it's as if there are two lovers waiting off camera to come in for their posed kiss. And thanks to the fact that it was 35mm film, there's a bit of grain to drive home the reality.

Well, last weekend, I went to Paris to meet our best family friends. It was a wonderful weekend: dinner at a crowded, boisterous bistro, Sunday spent wallking through falling golden leaves, watching petanque, sitting and dining in perfectly Parisien cafes, etc. And along the way, we stumbled on to that very same bridge.

I could never have found it again if I had tried, but as soon as we approached it, I recognised it.

So, that's it up there. Digital, in color, with traffic. None of the elements match, but it still felt like bumping into an old friend whose face you have almost, but not quite, forgotten.

Thanks for indulging me.

Trick ou Treat

2007-11-02T16:20:00.000+01:00

Hallmark can claim considerable success in its ongoing effort to successfully export all American, non-national holidays. However, they haven't yet completed the accompanying training manual.

French children say, very politely and formally, "Excusez-moi. Est-ce que vous avez des bonbons?" ("Excuse me, would you have any candy?") And all the girls dress as witches.

Certainly nothing as creative yet as my nephew's wicked Toxic Waste costume.

Oh, and just because I like saying it, I'll be going to Paris tomorrow for the night.

And finally, a quick pic from a recent "Wine and Cheese Tasting" session. The wine wasn't top shelf, but since they poured 5 full glasses for 10 EUR, and since it's hard to really cut corners with cheese, it was a good bargain.

Cheers!

Week VIII - Photo Update

2007-10-01T20:18:00.000+02:00

As always, the full set of pics is available here: "Pics"

In the interest of finally catching up on photos, I am going to keep the text part of this update pretty short. For more info about the bridge, mentioned in an earlier blog, see here: Millau Viaduct"

While behind on pics, I guess I'm pretty up to date on news, so let's just discuss "My weekend with the Americans", shall we?

As mentioned previously, most of the students at my school are doing two, three, or four week stints. Last Friday, the friends I started with at the beginning of September, or met along the way, all wrapped things up. (Guess what's on my agenda this week?).

So, having said goodbye to one after a drink at a local bar, I went to the bartender to settle up and found myself next to a garrulous American with a red mohawk and a chest and biceps which I have come, after a month here during the World Cup, to recognize as the sign of a former Rugby player. Despite all of the above, we got to talking and ended up having more than just a few drinks. Restless, we went out to prowl the streets of Montpellier, where we encountered more Americans and an Aussie (this time, a lovely trio -- all three of them would kill me for using that expression, but I call poetic license -- of women currently living in London.) With various additions and subtractions along the way, this group stayed loyal to a strict regime of rugby watching and beer drinking for the rest of the weekend (with the most lovely of them taking a break for some shopping, of course).

As the only American in town last night (Sunday) without a ticket to the US match, I watched from our normal perch and met up with them for a final drink before re-entering the known universe and getting back to studying French.

The highlight, aside from getting to meet some great people, was the game we watched Saturday night. Not for the game, but for the location. If you have a sense of humor, thick skin, and good map-reading skills, I highly recommend visiting Bar Il Corto.

The bar, named after Il Corto Maltese, a famous Italian (and later French) graphic novel series, is dominated by a burly, exuberant, and quite possibly clinically insane proprietor who, I believe, uses the bar as his own personal mental health maintenance device.

We watched the game standing. Not because there was a large crowd. In fact, I counted ten. But because it's a very, very small bar. Only after the game did someone think to see where the stairs at the back led to, thus discovering "the dungeon".

I've seen rooms like this before -- in fact, Ian may share my fond memories of a place in Paris that was similarly carved out of stone, with candles in every nook and a decidedly bohemian air. What took things to the truly surreal level was that the volume of the music -- sometimes dance, sometimes pure Scottish bagpipes, depending on what Il Corto felt like -- was so high, combined with the lack of any sound-absorbing material on the bare stone walls, that I was reminded of people supposedly using high-volume rock to cause people who have barricaded themselves to surrender.

When we climbed back upstairs, we -- and the rest of the bar -- were invited to join the owner in a rendition of a popular chant, a la Il Corto. (Afterwards, I noticed the signed illustration of the graphic novel's main character, Il Corto, and it all started to seem a little...just a teeny little...bit more logical.)

That night ended with all of us huddled under awnings as the sky opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour, completely overwhelming all of the city's drainage strategies and eventually compelling us to dash/splash (depending on which sub-group you were with) back to the hotel.

Definitely not full-immersion French, but definitely full-immersion fun.

Oh yeah, the US got creamed, but, as one journalist noted, we "played well, given our limitations."

Toodles!

Weeks VI, VII

2007-09-24T16:55:00.000+02:00

Just a quick catch up. I am so behind on pictures that the thought of catching up is a little overwhelming. Some spur-of-the moment travel and a visit from my good friend and his brother also threw me off track.

That's actually been the real highlight. He was kind enough to invite me to the France-Namibia rugby game in Toulouse, and I got the full-immersion experience. (For those unaware that France is currently hosting the Rugby World Cup...well, I understand.)

Unknowingly, I had booked rooms for us at the hotel where the French team was staying. As my friend and his brothers are pretty big fans, and actually know what the players look like, this was a real treat for them. After the game -- which was exciting in its own way, and understanding the rules a bit certainly helps -- we eventually made it back to the hotel, where much of the team was still hanging out in the bar. Seeing the players live, while we watched news coverage of the game on the tv behind the bar, was the type of experience you can only fall into by luck!

School is great, with excellent teachers and great group of students, each with their own interesting reason for being there. As the only one to have signed up for almost three months, though, I expect to become something like the school mascot soon. As my friend said, it could be a bit Groundhog Day-ish.

More soon!

Week V - Hills

2007-09-02T08:17:00.000+02:00

[(Full photo album is here: "Pics") For now, without commentary. I'll try to fix that.]

Well. Damn glad I got THAT out my system. I'm pretty sure I saw Peter Mayle in three different cafes this last week, which was dedicated to "cute towns of France, mainly in Provence." (With the exception of Lyon. Since it was August, and Lyon -- which has things to do other than cater to tourists -- was closed, the jury is still out there.)

My first stop after leaving Germany was Besancon, where my classmates and I had stayed for a week with French families during my semester abroad in college. Just popped in to check on it. It was much sunnier this time, and didn't really ring any bells, except, oddly, that it only took a few minutes before I remembered that Besancon has an inordinately high number of shoe stores and lingerie shops.

Then to Tournus, a small town with a church. Three weddings took place that night. The town itself is mostly unremarkable, save for a very nice, cheap hotel and a great restaurant. I got lucky and snagged one of the two outside tables. Showing up unfashionably early has become a skill...one disadvantage of travelling alone, I have discovered, is that nobody wants to give up a table for four to you. A traditional salad with warm goat cheese and bacon, and a steak with a scrumptious pepper sauce made for a nice reentre.

The next day I took back roads through vineyards to Lyon, passing through Chardonnay and other well-known regions. One my favorite "you'll never capture that on film" moments was a snow white cat hunting phantom beasts in the middle of a huge grass field.

Lyon continues to elude me. It's France's second biggest city, and from the air, or a crest of the auto-route leading in, you can see that. The historical center has blocks and blocks of seven-story buildings uniformly lining each side of the street, producing an aura akin to downtown Chicago, without the skyscrapers. You know...delis, shoeshine boys, alleys filled with trash. It's reputed to be the upstart city, full of vim and vigor, but I didn't see it this time.

I remember being ambivalent about Lyon when I was 16, and guess I still am.

Perhaps as a subconscious antidote, I next force-fed myself on Provence, heading deep into the interior, the Vaucluse. This is where they grow the food and grapes and animals that feed the chateaux owners. They also specialise in medieval hilltop towns.

I chose my base by looking for the best-reviewed, available and affordable hotel within 100 km of Avignon, and heading there. Sometimes fate smiles on you (even more so when you don't actually have to be anywhere in particular), and the hotel was incredibly nice. After dinner, the older couple seated next to me struck up conversation. They were French, but we decided to stick with English. Without being terribly obnoxious about it, they made it clear that they could stay at any hotel in the world (and have) and were also very happy with where we were all staying (even if they were "just passing through" on their way back to Paris). So to the Clos de La Glycine, in Roussilon, here's my plug :)

Roussilon is one of the few places in the world where they mine ochre. Residents have taken advantage of this resource, and the town is very colorful. The ochre quarry itself is fascinating. And my black sandals are now permanently red, I fear.

I stayed there two nights, spending the full day inbetween exploring the other charming hilltop towns nearby. Fun, but, honestly, I think I've had enough for a while. A town should have an independent reason to exist...something other than tourists and 500-year old charm. (Unless it's a beach, lake or ski resort. They have their own rules.)

Heading out of the hills, I landed in Aigues-Mortes, chosen primarily because it was close to, but not actually in, Montpellier.

Its raison d'etre is the perfectly preserved wall surrounding the town. And salt. And flamingos. And huge mosquitos. Points for breadth -- if not depth -- of specialty.

It's a small town, so on the second day, having seen literally every shop there, I rented a little 6 hp fiberglass boat and went out to cruise the canals. Anytime someone lets me drive anything without performing some sort of qualifying test, I get nervous. Maybe because it means at least half the other people are in the same boat (pun unavoidable).

So, at 5, maybe 7 max, knots per hour, I cruised the mighty canals. White-knuckled and hoping nobody on shore noticed that my idea of "holding a straight course" involved turning right, then left, then right. Repeatedly. Like a drunken sailor (simile unavoidable). But, for an hour, a small part of me had fun pretending to be a salty old dog on the way back to his riverside shack. Like blackjack, I considered it money well spent. (Blackjack is for James Bond fantasies, by the way, not salty old dog ones. Although...there's always someone with a pipe and an eyepatch in the Bond movies, too, so maybe I'm just missing the connection.)

A plus tard!

Week IV - France on the Horizon

2007-08-25T08:52:00.000+02:00

Full picture album is here: "Pics"

Through the quirks of politics, geography, and haphazard travel plans, I've covered three countries this week (four, if you count Switzerland -- see below), so forgive the long post.

From Wolfheze, Netherlands, near the Kroeller-Mueller museum, I took back roads into Belgium, arriving in Bruges after a fairly dubious detour on a road that I still think might have been a bike path.

The claim "Venice of the ...." wherever seems to be growing in popularity, even as Venice itself sinks. A quick Google search for the phrase "Venice of the North" shows the leaders to be Stockholm, Amsterdam, St. Petersburg, Maryhill (??), Bornholm (??), and Glasgow (by virtue of an art festival, rather than water or scenery)....basically, anyplace with a history and some canals.

The same applies to "Little Paris" (Bucharest, Brussels, Milan, and others, although Paris Hilton has screwed up Googling this one).

That vented, Bruges (Venice of the North, they say) really is quite nice. Unlike so many European cities, the guidebooks aren't peppered with the phrase "destroyed during the war" and despite sometimes out-Praguing Prague, the quiet, shadowy streets outside the touristic center, and the tangible pride of its citizens, made it a pleasant surprise.

On Saturday, I drove to Oostende, on the coast, and wandered through a Tintin and the Sea exhibit. Turns out Herge's family came there every summer for the traditional beach month. Mediocre, but lovingly exhibited, and heck, who wouldn't claim him?
I then took the (currently) longest tram line in Europe along the coast, an idea garnered from a random article in The Telegraph. Sadly, the coast was a bit like a Belgian Miami, having seen better times. Calming and a bit wistful, though, in its "holiday at the sea" tradition, and the eagerness and excitement of the kids riding the boardwalk in a variety of wheeled contraptions. Beach resorts whose time has passed -- with scents of candy and echoes of music still lingering amidst the faded and cracking pastel colors competing with defiant hydrangea -- make me nostalgic for a time that probably never really was.

From Bruges, I shuttled to Brussels, which has a reputation as a government town. The EU Parliament, NATO, and other government orgs are headquartered there. I once had the glimmer of an opportunity to work in Brussels, and was flown over for a few days from London to check it out. Then, as now, I liked it.

It's a bit like Berlin: the drive to impress tourists isn't all-consuming and you can sense that it's a city to actually live in.

Brussels was also a major center of the Art Nouveau movement. Victor Horta, one of its most renowned practitioners, built his house and studio here. Today it has been restored and maintained as a museum, with the emphasis on the house itself. Since photography isn't allowed inside, here are some sanctioned pics: http://www.hortamuseum.be/main.php?page=visite_m2&part=maison
Finally, Brussels marked the first chance on this trip to speak French. Rustier than a Richard Serra sculpture, and just as cumbersome.

Spent one night in Luxembourg, which was all I needed. Rainy and cold. Not the country's fault, I know, and I can see the attraction, but moved on.

Back into Germany for two nights, based in Freiburg, which is a pleasant university town with a famed Muenster. Don't know what that is? In English, it's a Minster. Still lost? Me too. It's a cathedral. Under wraps for reconstruction, right now, but it supposedly approaches perfection in the design of its tower.

My real reason for being in Freiburg (other than its reputation as the warmest town in Germany) is its proximity to the Vitra Design Museum. Vitra owns the production rights for all Eames furniture in Europe and Asia, and maintains an archive collection of over 4,000 furniture pieces by hundreds of designers. For mid-century furniture freaks like me, it is basically Mecca.

Unfortunately, the archive isn't displayed; rather, it serves as a "lending library" to other museums. The on-site museum itself shows only temporary exhibits. However, I took the tour to see the Eames Production/Process exhibit, which was excellent. In a room surrounded by examples of all their major furniture, in various states of assembly, you truly understand their genius and craftsmanship. By also showcasing their architecture, "amusements" (plywood elephants, games and toys) and multimedia work, the museum also provides context to underscore their humanity and love of life. And of course, it all took place in Venice, California!

Vitra is also where Ghery got his first taste of Europe, designing the main museum building (which is flanked by a Fuller dome, Oldenburg sculpture, and other architectural salutes.)

Oh yeah. Switzerland. Vitra, in Weil am Rhein, is inches from the Swiss border. (Not being a Schengen signee, Switzerland still *has* a border, by the way. With officials -- rare in continental Europe.) I had to explain that my visit to their nice country was only going to last long enough for me to turn around, if they could be so obliging. (That last exit a kilometre back in Germany and tucked away in the middle of hundreds of red road construction cones, was easy to miss.) They obliged, and not for the first or last time, I'm sure.

Freiburg was the last port of call before heading into France for awhile. Classes start Sept. 3, so I have begun earnestly checking every word I don't recognize in my little dictionary.

A plus tard!

Week III - Lots of Form, some Function. And more cheese.

2007-08-19T18:43:00.000+02:00

Full set of pics is here: "Week III pics"

Last week we left off in Texel, sand dune and heather capital of the Netherlands.

Returning on the ferry to the mainland, I headed southeast to the National Park and the Kroeller-Mueller museum, temporarily rejoining the route my mom, sister and I followed during our summer tour of Europe in 1986. The museum houses a large Van Gogh collection (in a less hectic environment than the eponymous museum in Amsterdam), and hosts a world-class sculpture garden, which has continued to expand over the years.

As a sixteen-year old, I remember staring at Snelson's "Needle Tower II" in awe. How could such a structure stay standing, using only cables and tension, with no rigid connections between any one bar and another? 20 years later, I'm still baffled. There are times when a liberal arts education falls flat on its face.

Another, new, highlight was "Kijk Uit Attention", by Krijn Giezen. Sadly, a high-schooler fell last year while descending the stairs and was injured (not fatally)...climbing the piece is still on hold.

Understandably, since there are no rails. One stumble and you're not stopping till something stops you. But even from the ground, the visual impact is mesmerizing and induces knee-trembling.

The next day led me first to Utrecht, to visit the only consummated work of De Stijl architecture, a commissioned house designed by Rietveldt. The interior wasn't open that day, but the exterior was fun. Standing now at the end of a row of mundane dull-brick apartment buildings, the house looks like a weather-beaten transplant from Manhattan Beach's waterfront, but imagine how revolutionary it was at the time.

Then to the Central Museum in Utrecht, for a little more Rietveldt, and a LOT more "Dutch Masters." Finally, before calling it a day in Rotterdam, through Gouda, where I stopped to buy some cheese, as one does. That night I checked the internet and found, with relief, that I had, indeed, been taught to pronounce it correctly: "how-da", with some guttural phlegm thrown in here and there to sound truly native. (Right, good luck. Dutch sounds like Russian would on a poorly tuned AM radio.)

Rotterdam is a slightly gritty port city (busiest in Europe and top 3 in the world), with pockets of true hipness, including the Netherlands Architectural Institute, which is currently hosting a comprehensive exhibit on Le Corbusier. Next door, they maintain (lovingly and accurately) a house built in the 20's -- "hypermodern" at the time, it still works its spell, and I am tucking away the floor plan in my mind (and computer) in case I ever have the chance to crib a few ideas from it. I'm not so sure I need a clock in every room, though.

Honestly, I ended up spending more time in the Netherlands than I anticipated, but that's turning out to be the real pleasure of this "hiatus" month -- I am only planning a few days in advance, and trying hard to "hang loose." It's peak travel season, so this makes bagging the perfect hotel a little trickier, but it's working out so far.

Philosophical digression: In Amsterdam, I bumped into a fellow Californian traveling with his sister and mother. He was aching to get a little free time and I hadn't had a conversation longer than two sentences recently, so we started making plans to grab a drink after his dinner with the fam. We hit a brick wall when it surfaced that he didn't have a cell phone that worked in Europe. Luckily, his sister, over here on an internship, did, so planning continued. How did it used to work, again? You just showed up where you said you would??? In the same vein, I can't believe we used to do this kind of traveling with one -- maybe two -- guide books which were already a year out of date when published.

On this trip, I'm relying on the internet to keep me AWAY from the places in the guide books. Any decent city has more than six great restaurants, and the six that "Froder-Rickgat's" picked might have been great two years ago, but it's a safe bet you won't find the locals eating there. The cure, theoretically, is local review sites on the net. However, it's a Catch-22. Any site with enough critical mass to be useful and relevant starts to exert its own law of inverse coolness, while most hobble along with a few scattered, poorly organized reviews. TripAdvisor.com is still holding its own, though the hotel selection seems to be constrained now by some corporate partnerships.

I guess nothing replaces just walking around and asking people whose livelihood isn't tied to providing "safe" recommendations.

Week II (and pics from Weeks I and II)

2007-08-13T20:59:00.001+02:00

I'm still trying to find the best way to post pics. As hoped, I've stepped things up in the picture taking area, and, as much as I like Blogger, I don't relish the thought of trying to upload and position 30 some photos. So, for a quick visual recap, try crossing your fingers and clicking this link: " Pics"

Amsterdam was magic. I've been there twice before. Once when I was 16, with my mother and sister as we did long tour of Europe after living in Florence. Again when I was 18, as the first port of call on my "backpacking through Europe" gig after high school. I obviously remembered enough to think I wanted to go back, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn how great a place it really is, if you just stay away from the central train station area.

Walking along the three main canals, and darting up and down the connecting side streets and canals, as well as venturing into the even more remote De Pijp and Jordaan areas, revealed a charming, beautiful, and pretty darn hip city. I am adding Graphic Designer to the ever-growing list of career options I wish my high school guidance counseler had clued me into, since every nice brownstone in Amsterdam comes with a plaque by the buzzer signaling that one or more works within, when not pausing for a coffee at a cafe next to a sun-dappled canal. (The other missed careers are general contractor, civil engineer, architect and hugely successful spy novel author. The fact that I wouldn't have succeeded in any of them doesn't temper my resentment about not even being told they were options.)

Highlights included: well, just wandering around, actually. I'm not a Rembrandt or Van Gogh fan, and those are the real "must-see's".

After Amsterdam, a backroads drive to Alkmaar, famous for its weekly cheese market, but nice enough on its own. On the way, stops at Edam (yes, I tried the cheese) and Enkhuizen, a nice port town. Then the ferry to Texel, the southernmost of the Frisian Islands. With 1% of the Netherlands land mass, the islands host 75% of its plant species. (I don't know if that's impressive, but it sounds it.) Mostly along dunes, in protected nature reserves. Nicely laid back (though with plenty of shops selling sarongs, swimsuits, and sand shovels), it reminds me a bit of Cape Cod, without the crowd...even in August.

Dutch sounds more like Russian than German, but I'm finding I can read the menus. If you had any doubts about Texel being "the real thing", this will dispel them...there are no English menus. And I only heard English (from native English speakers) twice.

Despite a strength-sapping headwind on the return leg, a long bike ride (when in Rome) offered great rural cum beach scenery, as well as a hyperactive parachuting site at the main airport. Groups of five jumpers landing every five minutes. Apparently a strong and consistent breeze makes it an ideal spot for jumping.

Cheese and clogs forever!

Week I

2007-08-07T21:37:00.000+02:00

Although I finished work on May 31, I hung around Berlin (oh, and Scandinavia -- ofoto pics to follow sometime soon for interested parties) until last week. So, I count August 1 as the "official" start date of my walkabout. I managed to fit everything I own into the Mini. This was possible because I made sure I owned very little before it came time to try. (Thanks, Christian, for willingly accepting all my "donations".) With so little to keep track of, you'd think I'd know where eveything is. However, my car is rarely right next to the hotel room, so I seem to keep finding myself missing a relevant gadget. Often, the memory card reader for my cameras. I'll need to dig down deep for some discipline on that front. In the meantime, I pledge to myself to post at least an outline weekly, which can then serve to nag me into revising with more detail and, when appropriate, pictures.

Week I:
- Leaving Berlin, Freidrichshain and (sigh) the loft of dreams -- Thanks, Bernd, Alex, and Elli!
- Paperwork (new address registration, and, consequently, new license plates) -- Thanks, again, C&D
- Bremen (personalised tour from Christian!)
- Hamburg (sleeping in a water tower/hotel) -- Greenest city in Germany
- Amsterdam...time to experience it as an adult :)

On the internet, nobody knows you're closed.

2007-06-25T08:57:00.000+02:00

I found a cool website the other day, covering "Hidden Berlin". Great write-ups, good details, and nice pics. So I chose a few locations and headed out to Berlin's eastern reaches.

First on the list was a restaurant cited as the "most beautiful in Berlin," on the shores of the Grosser Mueggelsee, the largest of Berlin's lakes. The restaurant, unfortunately, was closed -- as in, not in existence. However, the lake is quite nice, and I found a great biergarten as a more than acceptable fallback.

I then walked *under* the Spree, and along a beautiful, well-tended path through the forest, several neighborhoods, and a huge cemetery to the next spot on the list, the Treptow Crematorium. Morbid, yes, but as good as the write-up claimed: a perfectly disciplined, inspiring, and intelligent piece of modern architecture. Unfortunately, also closed, but I was able to get an ok pic through the full-length windows.

By now, it had occured to me that the printouts from site I was relying on so heavily gave no indication of when they were written or updated. Later, I checked and saw that the last copyright was 2001. It's likely the abandoned project of someone whose enthusiasms led them to new activities, leaving an orphaned website to live in perpetuity like a once carefully tended garden that slowly succumbs to weeds without completely losing its original form.

Which perhaps makes it appropriate that the last spot on the itinerary was a garden. A stunning garden, in fact, and a true hidden gem, tucked away deep in Neuekolln, a neighborhood (charitably) described on Wikipedia as "having no must-see sights."

Designed by Franz Koerner and built from 1912-1916, the garden is a rectangle sunk below street level, with a formal flower garden, grand fountain (no longer running, sadly) and an ivy-covered orangery which today houses a modern art gallery and cafe.

All in all, a rewarding (and tiring) day, despite a few glitches. My thanks to the creator of http://www.berlin-hidden-places.de/yuba_web3/index.htm

Berlin: the city that keeps on giving.

What's in a name?

2007-06-25T08:40:00.000+02:00

Despite lukewarm success with their first company, "Hindenburg Airways", the Schmidt's expand into the travel agency business...

Sequential Planning

2007-06-20T22:00:00.000+02:00

(Note: mobile phone pic.)

I've now moved more into critical path planning. Scandinavia (July): check. Eastern Europe (August): not check, but not critical path.

France (September-November): double check. I enrolled in my language classes, and locked down a place to live for September. Unfortunately, the latter is a residence hotel, not a private apartment. But, Montpellier, along with many other French cities, hosts the Rugby World Cup every weekend in September, and the pickins were slim. So, I chose to confirm someplace, to create a little breathing room in which to find something with a bit more character for October and November.

The school, Accent Francais, continues to be very responsive, which I find encouraging. My second biggest fear is that the school will turn out to be a joke. My biggest fear is that I won't like Montpellier, or that it won't like me (I can always make a fuss and change schools, but a new city would require a few days planning).

I relish the feelings of heading to a new place, sight unseen. Although it can be nerve-wracking, I find the psychological journey from concept, to pre-conception, to first impression, to familiarity and finally to recollection to be fascinating.

I remember it best with Florence, although I can follow the spectrum of impressions with every new change I've made. The sight of the Duomo's multicolored marble rising up next to our bus as we stepped off is etched in my brain. Then the slow, exciting process of discovering more and more of the city, street by street.

New finds become familiar friends, and the process continues, until one day you realize that the first impression, and even more so, the pre-conception, have faded, replaced by an ever-increasingly coherent and realistic (and sometimes, ultimately boring) view of where you really are. (There are a lot of parallels here with aging in general, but I'm focusing specifically on geographic impressions right now.)

Riding and walking around Berlin these last few weeks, I've been toying with the idea of a neighborhood's "center of gravity" and how it can shift as your understanding of the local [insert geo/topo/demo/etc.]-graphy expands.

For example, there's little question that the center of gravity for Friedrichshain is Simon-Dach-Strasse, when it comes to nightlife. That puts me on the west edge. But, as I rode around to the north of Karl-Marx-Allee the other day, I found a couple of seriously-bustling "brunch corners", three large parks I never knew about, and a whole shopping complex. Which warped the boundaries I had previously assumed, and tilted things a bit.

After that tour, I would have said I live on the southwest edge, instead. But then, the next day, I discovered a canal that runs southwest of here with a lot of nice apartments and restaurants...so maybe I'm more in the center.

Then again, on a broader scale, Mitte is now the center, with Charlottenburg still carrying some weight to tip it to the west. Which puts me pretty far east, in the bigger picture.

(By the way, it's not that I haven't been paying attention for the last two years. Berlin is seriously, monumentally, abnormally BIG for a European city. Nine times the area of Paris, for example. There are a lot of nooks and even more crannies.)

That's my point, I guess. The process of orienting yourself...understanding where you really are, in relation to everything else, can be infinitely rewarding, surprising and sometimes unsettling.

Before you accuse me of only liking the anticipation of where I'm going -- rather than the reality of where I am -- please note my diligence in exploring Berlin. I have "done" every street in a 20 block radius (I checked) and most of the tourist areas in greater Berlin. That familiarity is part of the "leveling out" process too. Three months may not be enough to do Montpellier justice. Two years certainly hasn't been enough for Berlin. To anyone reading this, come. You will like it.

It's now in my top three: New York, London, Berlin. (Sorry, Firenze. But you'll always be a "special friend".) I saw a note on a blog recently that said Germans don't really think about Berlin, except to feel a bit sorry for those that live here. My first thought was: "When was the last time you saw a t-shirt that said 'Paris, London, New York, FRANKFURT'???" Amsterdam, Rome, Florence and Tokyo can replace one of the above, but unless you're part of a school trip, the German city is going to be Berlin.

Berlin has something special...not "bling", not beauty, definitely not bustle. Just a feeling of being comfortable with what it is. A big, pretty hip, pretty cosmopolitan joint stuck way too far up and to the right to play in the sandbox in the middle of the playground, but confident enough about itself to wait for the cooler kids to find their way over to the edge.

Which leads me back to Montpellier. On a macro level, I already have my pre-conceptions...I've seen pictures, and know that the Place de la Comedie is the epicenter. Or so I think. :)

On a micro level, within the city bounds, I know my hotel will be in the modern district, tangent to the old town. I know the school is close to the Place de la Comedie. I don't know how I will get from one to the other, what will be near me (internet says stores and markets, which is handy). The beach should be 15-20 minutes, but what kind of beach, how to get there, etc.

And then, what about Toulouse, Barcelona, the rest of the coast?

I guess the good news is: three months in Montpellier is a timeframe set only by myself.

So, satellite view for those playing along at home:

The green dot is my hotel.

Old dog + new tricks = few pics

2007-06-12T21:46:00.000+02:00

My short-term objectives include a lot of slimming down.

I mean that in two ways.

First, the obvious. If I am going to stride confidently up to a jeune femme in a cafe and suavely ask what she's reading, it would be nice not to have my beer belly telegraphing my arrival.

To that end, I've been trying to make good use of the suddenly vast amount of free time I engineered for myself.

In my roughly-sketched plan, the summer is dedicated to Berlin (with wiggle room for Northern and Eastern European ventures), so my days have mostly involved biking or walking through areas of the city I'm less familiar with. Major expeditions to date include:

- Treptower Park: During the summer, at least, this is really more like two parks, separated by the 4-lane Puschkinallee (boulevard) that was part of my commute home from work. The strip running along the Spree river is what I imagine Coney Island or Boston's Revere Beach used to be like: hot dog (ok, bratwurst) and ice cream stands, carnival games and rides (some with a decidely more adult flare than would be accepted by the 4-H carnival!) , counterfeit sunglass vendors, kids splashing in fountains, and a couple of semi-permanent biergartens. All swarming with true locals. (Trust me, this one ain't even in Rough Guide, let alone Frommer's.) The energizing -- if eventually maddening -- sound of synthesized, and overlapping, one-man oompa bands keeps it all moving.

On the other side of the road, away from the Spree, it's a much more placid scene. Like the Tiergarten, the theme is forest, grass and shrubs, and ponds, broken up by the occasional perfectly tended flower garden. Unlike the Tiergarten, though (which is a sublimely subtle and serene urban space), Treptower got stepped on by one MOTHER of a monument to the Soviet soldiers killed during the Battle of Berlin. There are a few areas where the USSR indisputably claimed victory: vodka, military uniforms, caviar, surveillance, and monuments that -- rather than inspire -- make you feel about as big as a pea.

At the west end of Treptower Park, Schillingbrucke bridge crosses the Spree, providing a vantage point for admiring the stunning sculpture "Molecule Man" by the American Jonathan Borofsky.

- Prenzlauer Burg. I'd live here in a second if it weren't just as far from the rest of the city as Freidrichshain (and up a hill, which is rare in Berlin). It may win "most-gentrified but still cool" award. If I had two young kids, I suspect the government would actually require that I submit written justification for living in Friedrichshain instead of Prenzlauer Burg. Friedrichshain may have a similar, but inverted, requirement for young parents with multiple tattoos.

- Tiergarten. Simply the best urban park I have ever had the pleasure of exploring. My scope is limited, but I don't think Central Park can hold a candle to it. Flowers, ponds, fountains, statues, hidden nooks, broad open fields. And not a drug needle in sight. Just ignore the naked people.

The other slim down regimen involves purging. Papers from 2003, electrical adaptors for gadgets I don't even remember buying, clothes I've never worn, and, in particular, large, heavy items. What I keep has to fit into a Mini, remember? Can anyone tell me why it's called a "Mini"? Anyone? Bueller?

The first casualty was my Dell XPS. While lightening fast, it was heavier than an anvil. It was also starting to show some pretty severe signs of age, so I replaced it with a sleek, sexy, silent MacBook Pro.

The transition has been harder than I expected. My biggest struggle has been with pictures. I think I copied all of them over successfully, but I can't be certain, since they were immediately and voraciously sucked into some huge iPhoto library vortex. I am currently trying to do a nose count and to get several thousand pics back into some semblance of order.

All of which is to say: I do have some new pics to show off, but you're going to have to wait a bit. And since this meant to be a photo-centric blog, I've been holding off on posting at all.

I did spend a few hours wrestling these out of the iPhoto Library (aka hidden vault of never ending doom).

They're from my Leipzig trip, which (unintentionally, I swear) coincided with the annual Gothic Wave Fest...an event drawing Goths young and old to the city from around the world.

After checking in to my hotel, I headed across the street to the old town and started wandering. At first, I thought I must have stumbled onto something so weird, so "authentic" and so bizarre -- an entire city populated by Goths -- that Rick and Lonely Planet were just too politically correct to comment on it.

But, after the fifth woman (and second man) in a corset tighter than my apartment building parking space walked by, I clocked that it wasn't like this every day in Leipzig. The tolerant but bemused looks of the few identifiable locals I spotted confirmed it. As did the camera crews. At which point I began to notice the thousands of flourescent posters wrapped around anything tall, stationary and round. So much for my career as the next Sherlock.

Because Gothic Wave is a multi-day event, many of the black-clad, white-faced subterranean dwellers were forced to expose themselves in the midday sun, if only to obtain sustenance.

While this was amusing in and of itself, other secrets revealed themselves under the harsh glare of daylight.

Some Goths drive BMWs (black, natch) and stay at five-star hotels. Some sport DK guides to Germany. Others like to splash in fountains on hot days. And, many, many like ice cream. I can only hope the irony of ordering vanilla wasn't lost on them.

Truth be told, they added some appropriate character to the cobblestoned old town. As you can see from the older gent's expression, there's a lot to be said for dressing up and having fun.

I definitely recommend Leipzig as an overnight or daytrip from Dresden or Berlin. The old town is compact, almost completely car-free, and contains several architecturally noteworthy churches and government buildings, including the church where Bach was choirmaster and is entombed. Leipzig also sports a 3-star zoo, with 5-star plans. Lutherstadt Wittenberg, where Martin Luther held sway, is a quick and pleasant drive north. If you head that way, be SURE to check out the school designed by Hundertwasser. Try to visit the school on a weekend so you can roam. If only all kids had this to look forward to in the morning.

Freedom

2007-05-29T07:09:00.000+02:00

Not my impending work-free life, but this little critter's.

Rhesus monkey that he is, he found a way out of his open-air enclosure at the Leipzig zoo and was hanging out near the bamboo.

Who can blame him?

I have had a soft spot for Rhesus's ever since my mom and I went to Cancun when I was in high school. The margarita bar/windsurf rental/scuba school had one, and we hit it off. Eventually, the owner asked if I wanted to take the Rhesus for a walk. I said yes and he unclipped the monkey's long leash.

The monkey hopped down to the sand then looked up at me, with the most human expression you can imagine, and held his right hand up, just like a kid ready to cross the street. Pretty dang cute.

Mini Games

2007-05-28T17:18:00.000+02:00

An American colleague/friend who also owns and loves a Mini Cooper S was over for work recently, and the subject of autobahn driving came up. When asked my "top speed", I decided to cop to 190 km/h, which I achieved during my vacation last year.

This required a certain degree of honesty since 190 is, by any Teutonic standard, a crawl. I could feel my German co-workers cringe.

I found some personal redemption when I checked and found that 190 km/h = 118 mph. I had been thinking it was under 110 mph.

But I was still feeling emasculated when I headed to Leipzig, so when I found a nice, straight stretch with no scary trucks ahead and no Lamborghinis behind (that I could see) I took it to 200 km/h. 124 mph will have to do. The Mini's really meant for curves and quick sprints in the mid-range. And, as I get older, my death wish diminishes.

Returning from Leipzig, I opted for the curves. It had rained. The fields and trees lining the perfectly maintained backroads were green and glistening, so I set the navigation system to "Avoid Highways" and played a little game much better suited for the Mini.

Duck.....Duck...Geese.

The cow/turtle/ostrich in the road picture is admittedly a bit cliche, but I was amused (and happy that they were pretty easy to spot on a straightaway, rather than nestled beyond the apex of a tight corner).

They clearly didn't see the issue at hand (car+goose=mess) and there was no good reason for them to be there. I was in the land of Spargel (asparagus) not fois gras. And they didn't budge. So after a couple of oncoming cars passed, I pulled into the other lane and scooted by, then flashed my lights for the next 500 meters or so to warn oncoming cars.

You know you're getting old...

2007-05-21T22:11:00.000+02:00

...when you let out a loud "Yes!" after accomplishing something that any 14-year old could do.

andrewsteele.com -- which I bought three years ago (also warranting a "Yes!" at the time) -- now redirects automatically to this blog.

I trust the seven visitors to the old page won't miss the one photo and list of books I used as a placeholder.

For those even older than me, what this boils down to is that you can now access this blog just by typing andrewsteele.com

Opening a celebratory beer,

Andrew

Cablegram

2007-05-12T08:10:00.000+02:00

Found it.

Heard about this new thing called cable?

2007-05-11T23:42:00.000+02:00

I bought a tripod last week, and have been playing around with pictures of the view of the Fernsehturm out my apartment window . But you can't see them.

Not because I don't want you to see them, but because I can't for the life of me find the one cable that is appropriately sexed to fit both my camera and my computer. Without blowing one or the other to kingdom come.

I am often amazed at the lack of "standards" when it comes to hooking up. Take that any way you want, but I'm currently discussing electronics, not humans.

I feel guilty every time I pick up a power adapter, struggle to remember what it's supposed to plug into, and, failing, throw it away. (I'm on a big declutter kick right now, since my plans will be much easier if everything fits in the Mini. I've gotten quite ruthless.)

Stop for a moment and think about how dependent we all still are on wires, even in this day and age of...well...nothing THAT great has actually been invented recently, but go along with me, please?

Sure, the Phillips' commercials show that wonderful flat screen TV on the wall...but without wires. How many of us add in the extra $500 it will cost to bore a hole in the wall, run the cables through, etc.?

And all of our laptops? Wonderfully small, if you ignore the two pound AC adapter you have to carry along with you.

In my mind, the ideal investment portfolio, from a techie perspective is:

- Laptop batteries that last more than four hours, and weigh less than a brick
- T3 speed wireless connectivity
- Flexible, paper thin displays

If anyone knows of a public company where one or all of these make up more than 50% of their revenues, please let me know.

In the meantime, I'll keep hunting for the proper cable, and my Dell XPS will keep wolfing down German electricity.

How 'bout this weather?

2007-04-28T22:04:00.000+02:00

First, apologies to my metric readers for using the imperial scale in the graphic. But without that gimmick, this post wouldn't work.

After 17 months in Berlin, I still don't speak German, the BBC is number one on my radio preset (with the newly created 104.1 NPR Berlin quickly coming up from behind) , and netgrocer.com loves me for my Campbell's soup and Goya refried bean orders.

Despite all these failures on the integration front, I have, in fact, gone metric. (Pats self on back.)

I know what a kilometer feels like to drive or walk. I LOVE my weight in kilograms. And the temperature readout in my brain and my car are both set to Celsius. (Ms. Mini still usually talks to me in English when giving directions, though. I say "usually" because her British persona is so bossy and chiding that I sometimes opt for the more seductive Mlle. Mini. "Tourner a droit en cent metres.")

Back on topic.

Almost all metric scales win hands down simply by virtue of being base 10. I was never great with fractions, but boy did I master those tens.

That said, I have come to realize that there's nothing about the Celsius scale that inherently recommends it over the Fahrenheit scale. Yeah, yeah: zero=freezing and 100=boiling. Nice and easy. But inbetween, where's the value added?

Frankly, I don't think Celsius is granular enough, and the natural "break points" (at the tens) don't match the way we actually experience the climate.

Let me give an example. In a very stilted, two-glasses-of-wine-in conversation, an American might say something like this: "When it's in the 60's, it's kind of cold, but ok, and I could totally deal with it if it were in the 70's every day. I like it to be in the 80's for those beach days, but I head inside when it hits 90. Anything over 100 is just cruel and requires a Dos Equis, shade, and perhaps a long nap." (Unless it's a dry heat, such as they have in Scotsdale, of course.)

Translated into Celsius, that same statement from a German becomes: "When it's between 16 and 21, I find it pleasantly brisk. I could live happily forever when it's between 22 and 26.5, and appreciate the range between 27 and 32 for days sunning at the beach, park, street corner, or frankly, anywhere. But I seek shelter when it hits 32.5. When we top 38, I grab my beer, run and hide."

You have to admit that the Fahrenheit version is more compact, and, more intriguingly, closer to a base 10 approach than the Celsius one.

Which leads me to believe that Daniel Fahrenheit -- German, by the way -- was more interested in the boiling point of humans than the boiling point of water, which to me makes his scale considerably more...well...human.

On either scale, spring has sprung in Berlin. The flowering trees and yellow shrubs (Yarrow? Anyone? Anyone?) have burst out in bloom. Fish are swimming in the lake at work. Leaves have grown to block the very distracting semaphoric signals the trees used to send during the winter drive to work. And skirts have been retrieved from whatever dark hell they are banished to during the cold months.

I have often discussed the virtues of continuous warmth (below 35 C/95 F, though, please) with friends brought up in colder climes. Dinner outside most of the year, no need to change or "layer" before running out to turn of the car alarm, long nights soaking in the smell of jasmine...

But -- frighteningly -- it turns out that I am, in fact, quickly losing my status as an intrinsically warm climate man, as shown by the table on the right. If I hadn't had the good luck to be born in Southern California, I'd technically be a cold weather guy. I have to assume that my sister is officially past the point of no return, mathematically. My only edge is that I'm younger, since we both rely on that So Cal adolescence to weight the average.

Fall colors be damned...I like the sun.

Now, if only my skin felt the same way.

Parallel Planning 2

2007-04-21T20:12:00.000+02:00

It's never a good idea to cling too tightly to some things. My Scandavian Spin has been converted, through my planning, to a Scandanavian Whistle Stop tour. Same route, with the addition of Bremen, but by train.

I'm fortunate to work with a guy who is half LA/half Swedish. Which means we relate on the refried bean front AND that he can give advice on touring Scandanavia.

Over the course of a few cigarette breaks, the message I took home was: the drives between the cities I want to see are boring.

With visions of sunbeams pulsating between kilometres and kilometres of pine trees, with nothing else to entice the eye, I chose to give up the "dartability" of driving on my own for the tranquility of long train trides, good books, a bar car, and the opportunity to admire the scenery without worrying about plowing into a line of traffic-jammed Volvos and SAABs.

With this logic top-of-mind, I have also planned the August trip. Easternish Europe: Warsaw, Kracow, Budapest, Bratislava, Prague (again, but necessary to keep the day's train ride from turning into 14 hours.)

For those who haven't checked out all the other eastern European countries on a map...they're FAR AWAY! I was surprised, honestly. So I made it a smaller loop, with a promise to myself to go back later.

Then I land in Berlin for final preparations before taking the Mini south, through Dijon, Lyons, and on to...hmm...haven't decided between Nice and Montpellier yet. Montpellier is leading in the polls.

Not critical path, just yet.

Parallel Planning

2007-04-17T21:32:00.000+02:00

All of my business training urges me to focus on my largest upcoming projects: language study in France and Italy. I still need to select a city, school and apartment in each country.

But I'm planning a walkabout, right? And what's the point of a walkabout if you follow a fixed path?

I have the general outline of the "bigger plan" sketched out. France, then Italy. And not before September, to avoid the worst of the tourist crowds. I'd say that covers the most important bases. If you want more detail, employ me.

So I am temporarily planning chronologically, rather than by "critical path." (My ardent hope is that in the next 6-12 months I will learn to view nothing, other than getting gas and finding a place to sleep, as truly critical.)

That means a young man's thoughts turn to summer. June will be spent in Berlin, diving deeper into its bountiful pockets. It's always a pretty good city, but June is its recurring debutante ball.

And for July and August? Far too hot to go south, so logically:

Behold the Scandavian Spin. I'm quite proud of it so far. It even has a nice figure-8 shape. And yes, this will be by car. Looks like a 10-14 day trip to me. I've learned that successive marathon driving days -- while they may cut down on hotel costs -- just don't pay off.

I prefer knowing that I have the option to shoot off the highway, dart through a random town, and then resume course, without worrying about hitting the day's final destination before dark.

So I've limited each day's driving to under five hours, and most are shorter. In July, with plenty of daylight, this should work well.

I'm pretty excited about this one. Scandanavia is an unknown region to me, but with my interest in design, and my family heritage, I've always been intrigued. If only I could selectively extract my 7th grade paper on Sweden from storage to take with me! Drawing the flag took me hours, but I thought it added a nice touch to the typewritten paper. ("Oh yes, Brittany, some of us grew up before clip art!") There were many Gustafs. I remember that. And I got an A.

I'll drink to that. There. With them. And you.

2007-03-23T19:15:00.000+01:00

Once again, my prolific friend has penned a winner.

Apparently, writing, like many wines, continues to improve with age. (And lots of practice, but that screws up the simile.)

http://www.foodandwine.com/articles/easter-with-chiles-wine-visionaries

Cin Cin, Ian. (Wow, never noticed how nicely that plays out on paper!)

A burst of Geburtstag festivities

2007-02-26T19:46:00.000+01:00

I turned 37 yesterday. As ages go, 37 ranks near the bottom in terms of "importance". 18 and 21 (and zero, I suppose) are the clear leaders, with the decade dates a close second. Within the latter category, certain ones, such as 50, lead their peers. 37, though, is about as interesting as 33 or 44. At 37, one is already past the hump of "their thirties", but not yet close enough to "their forties" to evoke panic.

Nonetheless, my circumstances are a bit unique this year, so I decided to risk my pride, reputation, and hardwood floor and throw a bit of a party.

Thanks to a wonderful group of attendees, several of whom completely took over all fondue making chores, it was a success. (Those who were there, feel free to correct me...privately.)

To the extreme consternation of my German friends, I chose to celebrate on Friday, although my actual birthday was yesterday. "Who wants to stay out late -- in the hinterlands of Berlin no less -- on a Monday night?" I thought, in my practical, apparently American, way. Is anyone else thinking of the "Curb Your Enthusiasm" episode where Larry chastises Ben Stiller for having his party several weeks after the day?

Fortunately, after a few glasses of wine, everyone was able to shrug off their distate with the clear breach of chronological precision, and seemed to have fun.

A few pics of my apartment pre-festivities are scattered around these words.

I figured this was the time for the photo shoot since, truth be told, it doesn't always look this immaculate. Sorry, Mom.

The following day, I slept in, scraped cheese from fondue pots, admired the nice new stash of wine my guests had brought, and then took a long walk through the Friedrichshain Volkspark, an excellent, multi-use park not too far from me. It's got hills to climb, waterfalls, modern sculpture, tennis courts, even a restaurant that seems to rank above the simple currywurst stand you would usually find in a family park.

All this to reinvigorate myself for Doro's birthday party on Saturday at their apartment in Potsdam. I have to say, German or not, she makes a killer chili, and Christian's cake ran a very very close second to hers. Since Potsdam is an hour drive from my apartment, I spent the night in a hotel a few blocks from the apartment, then returned for brunch on Sunday.

Joined by a visiting colleague from the States, we all then wandered through the Parc Sansoucci. It was a crisp, but dry day, and the long walk felt great. Later, we checked out the progress on Christian and Doro's new house (plumbing laid, conduits cut in the ceramic block walls for wiring) then drove a kilometer to a cozy, quite great restaurant on the bank of the Wansee ( a large lake just south of Berlin which serves as beach and watersport paradise for the area).

In honor of the family of wild boar I had seen just down the road during the richtfest, I had wild boar and a glass of red wine. It had started to drizzle just as we entered, giving the whole meal that excellent "we're inside, warm and toasty" feel reminiscent of a ski lodge.

All in all, a great birthday weekend.

On Monday, at work, we announced something I've been eager to post here since February 1. Sometime after May 31, I will be leaving my company to embark on an "extended sabbatical." It probably warrants its own post, once my plans have jelled a bit more, but for now, suffice it to say that I plan to spend a few months each doing intensive refresher courses and getting certified in French and Italian. And of course, I'll have to be in country to do so! Currently, I am considering Montpellier for French, and Siena for Italian. I figure that will occupy six months. After that, we'll see. I'm more than ready to fill in any gaps with travel, photography, introspection (to the extent that I'm capable of) and cafe sitting. (I am fairly confident about my abilities in the latter area.)

After 15 years of primarily defining myself by my work, however, I would be lying if I didn't say I'm anxious about my reaction to being intentionally unemployed. Although people tend to wait until after the first glass of wine here, the inevitable question always arises sooner or later: "So, what do you do?" I may have to hold a contest here to collect good responses. Right now, I'm leaning toward, "I don't."

Cheers, all!

Raising Party

2007-01-26T19:50:00.000+01:00

No, that's not a mis-spelling of Rousing Party. It's just the best translation of richtfest that I could come up with. Richtfest is a traditional German event celebrating the completion of the roof beams on a new house, and is an opportunity for the new owner to thank the workers and architect, as well as for that team to christen the house for the new owner.

Thanks to friends of mine, Christian and Doro, who are eagerly and anxiously going through the process of building their first new home, I was able to participate in a richtfest tonight. Since Berlin saw a full day of snow today (only the second this winter) -- the timing couldn't have been better for roof completion.

It's a pretty simple, straightforward ceremony. The architect/GC, the workers, andChristian climbed scaffolds to the end of the roof beams. One of the carpenters climbed the beams to the peak, installed a pole, and hung a wreath. Then, addressing the neighbours and friends gathered below, another recited something that rhymed. I heard the word 'haus' several times, so I assume he was saying something like, "Thank god we finished the important parts of the house before it snowed, we promise we'll clean up all the cigarette butts and beer bottles behind the house before you move in, the woman in the house behind yours is a hottie (we'll miss her), and, oh yes, bless this house. "

Next, Christian (thankfully, with his feet planted on the scaffold, rather than from the peak of the roof) pounded in the final nail. Prost!, and then the men on the roof threw their glasses down to the floor below to shatter. I can only assume that was part of the tradition.

We then scampered 'inside' to the covered ground floor, where we feasted on sausage and gluwein.

All in all, a pretty functional, warm-hearted and meaningful tradition that I think I'd like to repeat, should I ever be fortunate enough to oversee the building of my own house from scratch. For existing houses, removing the roof just to enable the ritual seems a bit extreme.

I am particularly grateful to have participated since a native German mentioned that she had only seen richtfesten on TV or in movies. To add to the authenticity, while driving down the lane afterward through hevaily falling snow, I saw a herd of wild boar trotting along the edge of the forest. They looked just like wild boar, in the same way that an aardvark would probably be instantly familiar to you as an aardvark, even if you had never seen one before. Since the Grunewald is known to be teeming with them, I wasn't surprised, but it was a great way to cap off the evening.

Thanks, Christian and Doro, and congratulations!

P.S. That's not Christian in the first picture. He's not Amish, as far as I know. I just forgot my camera, as well as warm shoes (for me) and a Raising Party present (for them). The actual indebted homoweners are in the picture above.

P.P.S. My advice to other Germans looking for a translation of richtfest is: stick with 'raising party' or perhaps 'building party.' 'Erection Party,' as my friend quickly guessed, is a bit too directly translated. Googling reveals that in English it may be known as a "Topping-out Party", which makes sense, and could be used, but only if you haven't just tried the last one.

I couldn't find a wikipedia article explaining the details in English, so for your edification and endless amusement, here is the Google translation of the wikipedia.de article:

Arranging celebration
from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The arranging celebration (also Weihefest, lifting celebration, lift on, roofridge beer or impact celebration; in Austria same celebration) is celebrated, if the carcass of a building is posed and the roof framing established and/or the roof is provided. An arranging celebration always finds on the building site and to the work time instead of after noon, so that all the arranging saying and can see the Umtrunk, because one does not bring along oneself on the day midday bread.

The roof becomes with the arranging ring (also arranging crown called) or decorated and to one of the carpenters or the foreman a short speech, the arranging saying or carpenter saying keeps to the Richtbaum. The arranging saying is on the one hand thanks at architect and owner, on the other hand a request over God benediction for the house. The speaker has traditionally wine or liquor for drinking and throws at the end of the arranging saying the glass of the roof. If it shatters at the soil, everything becomes good, remains the glass welfare, is natural that a bad Omen and a disgrace for the thrower. The owner must hit still the last nail, sometimes plays him the carpenters here still another small caper.

Following the arranging saying, the Richtschmaus in such a way specified is celebrated, mostly on the building site. The owner aligns the celebration, which its thanks are to the craftsmen involved. In addition also all aids, the neighbours and a representative of the builder are then invited. It is at the same time a good opportunity, in order friends and used the building progress to demonstrate.
The name arranging celebration leads itself from the expression puts up or establishes ago, which setting up the roof framing is named. Therefore the arranging celebration in German-language Switzerland is called also “puts up”.

Stay Tuned

2006-12-19T22:20:00.000+01:00

I have slipped, no question. It's nice that a few people noticed. In the past, I have been able to motivate myself to update by making public promises, so here's a list of things I will cover in the new year:

As of Dec 28, I will be in a new apartment in Friedrichshain, Berlin. Top floor of a converted wool factory, loft-style, with a private roof gardenview and view of Alexanderplatz. Moving there from my 1907 parquet-floored, Garboesque wedding cake in Charlottenburg (the Pasadena of Berlin) is about as much of a 180-degree turn as I could handle. I will miss this place a lot, but my delightful view of the Lietzensee will be replaced with an equally delightful view of the TV Tower at Alexanderplatz, and I will be a block from the very Stalin-esque Karl-Marx-Allee. My goal is to triangulate Berlin in hopes of finally understanding it. Added bonuses will be floors that don't squeak, lights that remember what "mood" I like, and private garage parking.

(Neither picture is mine. I will replace them with my own soon.)

This Saturday I head south for Christmas in Rome. I will be so busy doing absolutely nothing that I doubt I will find time to blog.
I was home for a week at the beginning of December for business, and managed to squeeze in (literally) five Mexican meals and a great, but short, stay with my mom. Her cream bodied, black roofed Mini Cooper is quite the hip car for Morro Bay! And, she found Curb Your Enthusiam funny. I think. She certainly tolerated it.

Until then, enjoy the holidays, and best wishes for peace in the new year!

(Special wishes to several friends who in 2006 became newlyweds, new parents, new friends, and newly located. You know who you are.)

Sehr Schnell!!!

2006-09-13T20:50:00.000+02:00

Halfway through vacation, and since the hotels provide internet access (I'm still struggling with my connection at home), I thought I should check in.

Here's my main impression, so far: Germany grows a lot of food. The scenery has been mostly pretty, tidy, and green fields, which look best viewed in quick glimpses between the trees lining the smaller roads. Which, truth be told, seem to be in the way far too often, given the number of memorials lining those smaller roads.

Which brings us to the bigger roads. All I can say is wow. It turns out that I'm not quite the speed demon I thought I was. 160 km/h (100 mph)is comfy, and the Mini likes it there, but to be doing that speed and continually be passed as though I'm standing still is a bit unnerving.

All the American journalists covering the World Cup have already put it better than I can, but here's my best shot. Imagine being stopped at a red light and watching a car approach you in the rear view mirror at 80 miles per hour. And then passing you. I actually understand now why BMWs don't have cup holders. Unless you are crazy or suicidal, both hands stay on the wheel.

Disappointingly, it's not just BMWs, Mercedes, and Porsches. I've had my doors blown off by delivery vans, minivans, Fords, and Meganes (if you don't know, don't ask). It's decidely more satisfactory to be smoked by a large 7-series. They just look so glued down, which my sweet little Mini does NOT. She accelerates beautifully, I've now discovered, and makes all the right noises, but jumps at every bump.

I'm also amused by the fact that I simply can't stop checking for cops. Technically, there IS a speed limit (150 km/h). My understanding is that if you are going faster than that and have an accident, you lose all insurance coverage regardless of fault. That is, if you are still alive, which is doubtful.

On other fronts, I've adjusted the itinerary some. I didn't get to meet Dorothee's sister, sadly, because I cut Bodensee and Heidelberg out of the equation in favor of more time in Hamburg and, tomorrow, Munich.

Also spent about an hour staring at the incredible spires of the cathedreal in Köln. Question for my mom...did we see that in '86?

Pictures to come, though I have mostly been doing snapshots. It's a city vacation, not a safari, after all.

No hamburgers, no hot dogs. Just summer fun.

2006-08-24T22:29:00.000+02:00

I was reminded twice this last weekend that one of the remaining defining characteristics of a culture is its food. My company hosted a large (2000 people) summer party last Friday, and the next day I went to a co-worker's "little lake place" south of Berlin for a barbecue and basic summer frolicking, including kayaks.

I had a ton of fun at both. Who knew that one of my team members is a seriously kick ass acoustic bass player, R&B style??? Or that another co-workers dog could destroy a frisbee (which I bought that day just in case someone else wanted to do something frolicky that I can actually do) in one bite?

Back on topic, I also ate a lot of sausage, chicken, and pasta/potato salad. But at both archetypical summer events, there wasn't a single burger, hot dog or potato chip to be found.(There was cotton candy at the company party...Counterbalanced by a long line for fried mushrooms. And the sausage at Marco's was much better than an Oscar Meyer. Bracing myself for odd search requests.) On the other hand, Marco's dad made an incredibly lekker stew over an open fire.

Which got me to thinking...what do Europeans think when they are in the States? Do they politely taste the green jello, while desperately craving a real joghurt dessert? I already confirmed that our 300 pound stainless steel barbecues seem a bit over the top :)

It's certainly not a new observation, but as the world gets "flatter" -- thanks to communications, the internet, and general sensibilities -- it seems pretty clear that this food thing is going to be one of the more inertially challenged elements.

For which I am so thankful. Without the differences, where would the fun be?

And, Marco? You found a wonderful place: thank you!

Vive l'Ascain

2006-07-21T20:24:00.000+02:00

I will post a much more detailed update as soon as I find the time, but to get me started, I wanted to share this...

Who could NOT love this goofy goddaughter of mine? Come on...I dare ya.

And in a location as beautiful as Ascain/St. Jean-de-Luz, an area which perfectly combines summer frolics with a certain down to earth quality that keeps it from becoming silly or tacky.

As always, I am extremely grateful to M. de X for his hospitality, good food, and great wine.

And, in this case, I'm also grateful to one of my closest friends, Geoffroy, for affording me the opportunity, once again, to spend time with my second family, even though he could only be present by phone. Next year in Phoenix.

Meredith, tell Geoffroy the story of the "herring" patronus ;)

And finally, to Mme. Y, play on :)

A plus tard.

P.S. Apologies to the interested parties for the delay, but I seem to have taken 627 photos. Some editing has been required. This is simply meant to fill the gap.

My team went to the World Cup semi-finals...

2006-07-05T22:57:00.000+02:00

...and all I got was this sweaty Italian jersey.

Well, it was further than most expected them to go, and it was good football. Well played!

Now, with France having just secured its win, one thing is certain: the parties will have much better food and wine then a German/Portugese faceoff would have.

It's not just the World Cup that's Big in Berlin

2006-06-30T18:16:00.000+02:00

A few weekends back, ok, quite a few, I spent yet another day exploring Berlin. Wonderfully, this is almost always a rewarding way to spend a day, even if I'm beginning to feel quite guilty and neglectful about not getting away more. The long list of trips I planned to take, constructed in September 05, remains almost fingerprint free.

Still, it's hard to feel too bad, when there is so much to see here. For those who might not notice the small details that make this a great city, Berlin obliges with several larger than life nudges.

The car is part of the "Berlin, City of Ideas" exhibition, which highlights the wide spectrum of innovation (with some creative license) born of Berlin.

There's also a huge Bayer aspirin in the middle of the government sector. Hey, when you're trying to fill a quota, you can't always be selective, but you can be ironic.

As far as I know, Rietveld never slept here, but an enterprising store still took the opportunity to trumpet one of his greatest (one of the greatest?) furniture designs, the Red Blue chair. Click the pic for a post-modern discussion of it's iconicity.

While I'm short, I promise you I was standing when I took both pictures. The objects were BIG.

I mentioned earlier that, while not quite consistently summer, the weather did finally turn. Berlin has a reputation as a green city, and an even stronger one as a city whose residents enjoy being outdoors. I can officially confirm both.

Apparently, some official agency with a very long name sent a letter to all Berliners: this is now officially the time to sit outside at cafes (even if it's cold and rainy), jog, bike, and sunbathe. I once had an argument with a good friend about whether it is necessary to know pain to enjoy pleasure. To Bear, I say: I still believe pleasure has its own independent power, but there's no question that a long, grey winter adds a certain halo effect to the sunshine and flowers.

It has also done wonders for the view out my window. I may move this fall. I am beginning to suspect that to truly appreciate the space I live in, I will have to design it myself. That said, mornings and evenings on the balcony are pretty decadent these days.

Now, if you don't mind, Germany just tied Argentina in the World Cup quarter finals, so I need to prepare my expat-to-expat victory blog, just in case. Keep an eye peeled, Ian. "Berlin, Berlin, we're going to Berlin!" Oh. Wait. We're already here.

Spargel and Sightseeing

2006-06-20T20:05:00.000+02:00

Note: One of the reasons for the gap in my posting activity is that I have been struggling with uploading pics. I also wanted to preserve some of these in larger size. (Trust me, they come out of the camera at 5 MB each, so even the large ones have still be rescaled.)
So, I have used thumbnails here, linking to a larger picture. Just click em. Although, those with slow connections might be happier just enjoying the thumbnails. And, I know, it's not an ideal solution, so any suggestions (including detailed instructions!) are welcome.

As many of you know, my mom came to visit in May. We had -- and I feel pretty confident speaking for both of us -- a wonderful, though exhausting, time exploring Berlin and, on a three-day side trip, Prague.

It took a few cups of coffee to pull together a fairly complete list of our adventures, and a few glasses of red wine to polish it up.

Here's the end result.

For posterity, as well as to erase any lingering fear in my mom's mind that we might have missed something on her list, we:

Did a long walking tour of my neighborhood, Charlottenburg
Took half a bus tour of the city
Dashed into the Berlin Dom (Cathedral) and its crypt
Checked out the Gates of Ishtar and Pergamon at the Pergamon Museum

Had coffee on Unter den Linden
Admired the Brandenburger Tor
Were struck by the solmenity of the austere Holocaust Memorial
Had dinner at Lutter and Wegner at Gendamenmarkt while the orchestra rehearsed across the street
Went to the top of the Reichstag to gape at the view and Sir Norman Foster's dome

Explored the interconnected passageways of the Hackescher Hof, using the shops to strategically duck the rain
Wandered the Disneyesque Nikolaiviertel (Christmas shop open year round!)
Joined the students boning up on Gropius at the Bauhaus Archive
Sampled quiche in the food market at KaDeWe
Hopped a train to Prague, which has the added bonus of running alongside the Elbe much of the way

Gazed in awe from the Charles Bridge as the sun set over the Prague Castle

Ate breakfast in Old Town Square
Explored the Prague Castle, St. Vitus Cathedral, and Rampart Gardens, then hunted for a mysterious monument we'd noted from above, before giving up to enjoy snacks at two different cafes in a row on the banks of the Spree

Slept at the quite decent and incredibly well-located Iron Gates Hotel

Were underimpressed by Frank Gehry's Dancing House
Had a gourmet meal (didn't count as a third snack) on the Spree
Patronized my local Italian restaurant back in Berlin
Checked out the contemporary art at the Hamburger Bahnhof (no food involved)

Had lunch at a biergarten on a lake and then meandered through the Tiergarten

Had another gourmet dinner
Found our way to the airport where my mom, I expect, crashed gratefully into her seat and slept the whole way home!

And, oh yes:

Consumed a collective 8.4 kilos of spargel, also known as asparagus. Mom's trip coincided with its short season, during which Berliners go crazy for the white stuff.

An incredible week for me, and it's only fitting to have shared it with the woman who introduced me to Europe. (For those who don't know the story, some years ago my mom developed the twisted notion that a 16 year old California boy would certainly enjoy leaving his friends behind and being hauled off to a strange Italian city named after an old lady. Well...I did enjoy it, and the rest is history.)

World Cup Fever Begins (and Other Tidbits)

2006-06-15T20:21:00.000+02:00

My initiation to World Cup fever got off to a pleasant start last weekend. A friend from work clued me in to an open air viewing location on the edge of the water in Potsdam where we, along with his wife and a neighbor couple of theirs, watched the opening game of Germany against Costa Rica. As befits the host country, Germany won the first game.

On Saturday, I then got up early to join a contigent who had won tickets from work for a six hour bus ride to Dortmund, where I attended a live game: Trinidad/Tobago vs. Sweden.

The 0-0 draw was widely acclaimed as a victory for Trinidad, the decided underdog, and at the Soca-themed town party afterwards, thousands who had traveled all the way from the islands and thousands more who just know how to find a good party celebrated in lively style.

As did I and two colleagues from work. As the oldest of the crowd from work (and therefore the wisest and most responsible), we had decided during the game that it would be a prefectly rationale undertaking to skip the bus ride home and catch the train at 3:00 am instead, so that we could join the Caribbean (and Swedish) crowd in their celebrations.

This, by the way, is exactly the same collegiate logic that leads one to pipe up: "Hey, let's drive to Vegas/Tijuana!" (West Coast) and "Hey, let's drive to Canada!" (East Coast).

While I survived the ride home (if one does try to get away with this at our age, a first class train reservation certainly makes it much more palatable), and even the next day. On Monday, however, I lost my voice completely.

It will be fascinating to see how the frenzy escalates over the next month. Mind you, we are only at the qualifying stages right now...not even the "eighth finals" (a word which I think is missing in English).

Now, some housekeeping: between my last post in February and now, life obviously continued. Spring finally sprung, then ducked right back into its cave, reverting to three more weeks of winter. We have now skipped directly to summer.

Also in the interim, my mother came for a wonderful weeklong visit -- during which we hit every hot spot in Berlin and Prague -- one of my very good friends got married, another got a new job and is in the process of relocating his family, and yet another is, I assume, discovering the sub-equatorial winter while deciding how to decorate the nursery.

And I got my German Driving License. Valid for life, you know!

So, I obviously need to catch up. Watch here for updates on -- at a bare minimum -- the visit from my mom.

There is soup in a box in my living room

2006-02-23T21:45:00.000+01:00

...from my sister.

Oh wait, that must sound odd. Let me explain.

My birthday is on Sunday, and I received a package from her this week.

I haven't opened it, but the customs label requires a declaration of contents, and, being the law-abiding citizen that she is, I now know that there are canned goods inside.

And it would only make sense to pay to ship a heavy, quickly consumed, canned good to a brother in Germany for his birthday if it were, indeed, soup.

See? Now it's not as strange as it sounds, right?

Well, actually, I imagine it still is. Let me spell it out...

Now do you get it?

Of course not. Because what you don't know is that I developed a slightly disturbing obsession with this particular soup when I was (family, help out here) six or so?

And it is not available in Germany, by hook, crook, or expensive department store food gallery.

So, my plan on Saturday (every store is closed on Sunday here, remember) is to go to that expensive department store food gallery to buy authentic sharp Wisconnsin cheddar cheese and tortillas (good for soaking up the last bits from the bowl) and celebrate in style.

And sis, if it isn't B&B, I'll still love you...

Maybe...

As long as it's not canned tofu.

P.S. I'm still figuring out Blogger and apparently just obliviated my post from Florence in December. I will recover, but grrrrrrr.........

We shall see

2006-02-08T21:27:00.000+01:00

Somehow, the charts below make the weather here look fairly mild.

They don't take into account the short days, astereotypically apathetic approach to sidewalk snow removal (Bostonians would put the normally industrious Germans to shame in this regard), and, truth be told, my desire to spend more weekends exploring.

Looking forward to those balmy May days.

On the other hand, I'm getting my money's worth from the snow tires.

Pics from another blog of the second coldest day out of 13 years recorded, apparently: http://berlin.metblogs.com/archives/2006/01/beautiful_cold.phtml

A Man Should Be Judged...

2006-01-14T01:37:00.000+01:00

by the friends that he keeps. Here's one I would like to be judged by:

http://www.onthemedia.org/transcripts/transcripts_120905_poor.html

Nice work, Ian!

"Shower Interruptis" part due

2006-01-06T23:53:00.000+01:00

It's a pan-continental epidemic.

Mothers, children, and structural engineers, take heed!

Continuing my ongoing documentation of shower doors that...just...didn't...quite...make...it:

Hotel Baglioni, Milano, Italia. Member of "The Leading Small Hotels of the World."

Except when it comes to glass. In that regard, it's um...kind of somewhere in the middle.

What amuses me is that a curtain (and, yes, they do make "luxury" level shower curtains) would cost a fifth of what this non-functional half-partition did.

Everyone deserves to be bullheaded and parochial about one thing in life, and I've found my thing.

Vroom!!!

2005-12-14T23:52:00.000+01:00

Apparently, they don't actually sell many cars at the BMW dealership on Ku'damm, but rather, maintain it as a showcase. So, when an actual sale occurs, it's an event. In addition to the unveiling,

I received a nice bottle of wine and pledges of free parking in this garage whenever I might be shopping in the area.

Hey, when an English-speaking salesman is a prerequisite, bargain hunting takes a back seat.

As you have surmised by now, I chose the shorter car (reference my earlier post). Given the parking situation on my street -- and the huge smile on my face as I put her through the paces this afternoon -- I think it was a wise choice.
And, she's even wearing snow boots already. It will be spring before I see the real wheels and tires, which for now are safely tucked away somewhere at the dealership.

While I made do with regular tires during two Salt Lake City winters, I've heard that Berlin is a bit less aggressive about snow removal, so I'm happy to be well prepared.

And, I must say, it was a real pleasure to turn in the Opel Meriva (Diesel) today. After two months, the thrill of driving an underpowered bakery delivery mini-truck begins to wear off.

The car acquisition marks the third out of four of my self-imposed imperatives for "settling in." Work permit, apartment (see above), and car can be checked off the list.

The last, and most challenging -- learning German -- awaits!

But not until I finish unpacking my boxes from the States, which also arrived today. Yes, I admit, I mailed myself five cans of Rosarita Refried Beans. But, in my defense, the're the six ounce size!

Phew

2005-11-05T17:41:00.000+01:00

Hopefully it was understood that my blog silence was due to the fact that the actual relocation was taking place. As well as several good bye dinners, reminding me that I've met some great people in the last three years.

The move and journey went remarkably smoothly. In retrospect, the size of the truck that arrived to haul away my fairly compact set of belongings strikes me as very American.

This is now my third weekend in Berlin, and I just discovered that my hotel has wireless, so I'm checking in briefly.

After all my reading, browsing, and imagining, it's been an absolute pleasure to actually explore Berlin. After five or six days of fairly intense city spelunking -- by foot, bike and U-bahn -- I feel confident stating: I like this city alot.

The fortuitous indian summer weather not withstanding, Berlin is a delight. To begin with, it's HUGE, geographically.

The fact that it's almost perfectly flat adds to the sense that it stretches on and on. Even Los Angeles has more hills, and mountains in the background on clear days.

The size alone ensures a certain diversity, but circumstances, history, and what seems to be an indefinable spirit combine to produce a city that appears to be able to provide a suitable backdrop for all moods.

Everything I read about the newness of the city has played out in spades. IM Pei's staircase could easily be overlooked, awash in a sea of capital letter architecture.

I suspect I've arrived at just the right time. Older accounts (i.e., from the 90's) tell of 1/3 of the world's cranes busily constructing a New Berlin. While the energy and optimism then might have been palpable -- having since been dampened by the realities of 20% unemployment -- it's nice to be here to see the completed work.

Modernism alone would be a let down, however. It's no secret that my Europhilia demands a steady dose of tree-lined cobble stone streets, independent shops, and corner cafes.

Here, again, Berlin delivers. The warm and mostly sunny weekends have allowed a fair dose of cafe sitting and people watching. As my mother would say, 'It's like a movie set!'

Unfortunately, I can't seem to upload more pics, so I guess I'll go around the corner to my medicore Italian restaurant where I am, after eight or ten meals, an esteemed Signore. The platitudes make up for the lack of ambiance. I have yet to eat in a true German restaurant, though I must say, Döner Kebaps are excellent.

Housing update 1

2005-10-05T04:16:00.000+02:00

Well, the Japanese place was booked (see below). So, I will be in a much more mundane, but probably much more serviceable, location.

So far, I haven't been able to find anything ironic or humorous about the Ramada Plaza Berlin. I admit, that disappoints me a bit.

Light Reading

2005-10-05T03:30:00.000+02:00

Since suspense doesn't play into the equation here, I feel comfortable recommending "The Fall of Berlin", even though I haven't quite finished it. The authors, Anthony Reed and David Fisher, do an excellent job balancing what I assume is their typical audience's thirst for military minutiae with detailed and varied accounts of the life of the everyday Berliner during World War II.

I rarely read history, let alone military history, but have found this book to be an unanticpated pleasure, and a page turner, even.

I spent this weekend with my parents and was reminded that my stepfather actually served in World War II. He was 17. As his generation gives way to others, it's easy for us "youngins" to get a bit lax about remembering (or learning for the first time) the details of a war that killed, directly or indirectly, 50 million people.

While I have nothing to compare the book to (having only realized in the last month that my knowledge of this critical 20th century event was thinner than saran wrap), I still recommend it confidently to anyone looking for an in-depth, apparently objective (certainly non-proselytizing) recounting of World War II through the lens of the citizens, politicians and soldiers of Berlin.
"The Fall of Berlin"

Uncle!!!

2005-10-02T01:08:00.000+02:00

I give. I desperately need an answer. This has bothered me for at least 15 years, and I'm at my wits' end. Why won't European's fully enclose the shower? This isn't a Peter Mayle "oh how quaint" observation. This is cold, hard questioning. If there's a cultural explanation, please clue me in. Until then, I have to consider it...well...lazy, at best.

I've seen many variations, but the most common version of shower interruptis is illustrated here:
This is clearly not a bathroom thrown together quickly and on a budget. Someone spent money and time building it. Yet, the shower door ends three feet too early.

Some take the approach that no water shield is needed at all, and build a bathroom that is all tile, with a drain in the floor. In those cases, at least the thinking is transparent.

But one...more...panel... that's all it would take to actually stop the water from spraying on the lovingly polished marble countertop. Why? For all that is human...WHY?

Fishnuggets?

2005-10-01T07:24:00.000+02:00

I am clearly going to need to learn how to suppress my laughter while I read translated web-sites. In this case, however, the spelling errors make we wonder if this wasn't a human production...

4. Marble, stone and fishes

For architects and others the ones that never wanterd to be one but do habe intrests on the development of berlins building history. From the emperor and founding time, berlin reboulding, 70ies and 80ies to the night-tech-glaspalast: stones, from which the Kurfürstendamm was made of. To calm down your nerves a visit in the Berlin Zoo-Aquarium with It’s special nightly openings and extraordinary musicprogram on the occasion of the long shopping night. And the question: When does sharks sleep in Berlin? All inclusive but without any fishnuggets. Tourdates: about 2 hours guided tour, inclusive entrance Zoo-Aquarium with a special nightly program (visiting duration of your own asses).

And later, we achieve ecstasy, apparently...

More than a half a million consumerorientated Berliner and guests of the city are falling into a shopping extasy when it’s says: shopping and amusement unitl late at night! Alltogether around 350 participating residents are offering together with the big fair a successful mixture of shopping and expirience in the heart of Berlin. The sales increases that has been achieved during the past Long shopping nights are trumendous and had made this event to the successfullest shopping-party in Germany.

This is all a bit less surreal (a bit) when you know that most stores are required to close at 8:00 pm, end of story. There's always a silver lining, isn't there? Without that rule, however could one look forward to the Night of Long Shopping?

Green Light

2005-09-30T03:13:00.000+02:00

Spent a week in Dublin and Berlin, my soon-to-be stomping grounds and the good news is that I'm not trying to repurchase my soon-to-be-much-missed house in San Jose.

I didn't get to see much of Dublin, but I did find time (twice, actally) to test one piece of conventional wisdom. I'm happy to report that Guiness does, indeed, taste better in Dublin.

I was very pleased with Berlin, though I also saw very little of it. What I saw, I liked. Within five minutes of the taxi dropping me off at what had looked like a nice central square with a pronounceable name, I found a store that sells nothing but drinking glasses, all very chastely laid out against white walls, with round numbered pricing. This is the type of store I respect NYC so much for, and I took it as a good omen.

For those playing along at home, I am now officially renting (for free) the house I owned last week, and my wheels-up date is 18.10. (Hah! Never to early to go Euro on y'all).

When in Berlin...

2005-09-03T05:01:00.000+02:00

Do as the Japanese do.

This is likely to be the place I start off in. Short-term apartment recommended by the relocation agency.

I admit, I'm intrigued and bemused. It seems well located. I'm assuming it's actually in Berlin.

"Oh, the places you'll go"

2005-09-02T05:27:00.000+02:00

I want to make something immediately clear. I don't believe in "keeping score." I've always preferred the idea of spending time in one place long enough to get at least an inkling of the daily rhythms, and, when possible, even to begin to understand what the place looks like when you start to think of it as "where you live."

But, I'm only human, and I do have a list.

I want to go to Scandanavia to pay homage to the designers. I want to go to Eastern Europe to see (and perhaps understand) what a convoluted 100 years have wrought (and to check out the architecture). I want to go to Turkey and Greece to learn whether I am attracted to all Mediterannean places, or just certain ones.

I want to go to North Africa because my parents celebrated their anniversary there -- before spending time there romantically was even a consideration, let alone cool -- and because I still, to this day, have not seen Casablanca. In real life, or on film.

So, this image marks the places (in Europe) that I've visited (blue), and those in which I've lived (orange). Look for much more blue in the coming years, and at least one more orange.

The color scheme is almost certain to change, of course.

Bureaucracy and bHP

2005-09-02T03:31:00.000+02:00

During the downtime between mundane tasks like faxing my actual college diploma to the relocation agency, I focus on the important decisions:

OR....

Both have their virtues.

The fact that my diploma is in Latin, by the way, didn't have the impressive effect I assume it's intended to have. I was asked for a translation into German and English. Since my high school Latin begins and ends at "mater est in atrium," I asked the school to send a Certificate of Enrollment instead.

Destination: Berlin

2005-08-30T05:58:00.000+02:00

Notice that Berlin is quite far north. Not exactly a hop skip and a jump away from the Mediterranean. However, I'm told there are beaches on the north coast. And with discount airlines, Italy is still only two hours away -- a big improvement over 10 hours! And so close to Chisinau.