A Love Story for Christmas

I must confess that I love me a good cheesy Christmas movie. I miss the Hallmark channel second only to my family. BUT luckily my favorite awful Hallmark Christmas movie happened to be on the other day (dubbed in German, but beggars can't be choosers) and I finally got my wish of watching Harry Potter 7 today (also dubbed in German). Between that, skype, and good friends to look out for me (and feed me delicious things which I ate way too much of) I have more than I need. Maybe the people I associate are just maturing, but it seems like there's a return to the true meaning of Christmas going on. Well the true spirit of Christmas is a simple message of love, forgiveness, and hope brought by a baby and given to mankind. It can be shared anywhere in the world and any time of year. Jew, Muslim, Christian, Atheist alike-we can exercise those.

But I just wanted to share this little love story for Christmas. You have time for this. Sit back and relax. Have a box of tissues.

Sorry Hallmark channel. He wins.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

And to All a Good Night

We're doing this movie-soundtrack style again. You know the drill (push play and keep reading).

I've been asking around about Santa Clause. It seems like the US took other countries' Christmas man and melded them together. Then the others got back this commercialized version which is starting to get re-mixed in with their own traditions. Thank you modern media.

Germany: Some Germans I spoke to struggled to tell me whether Saint Nikolaus and der Weihnachtsman are the same person. The final conclusion is that they aren't. In the beginning of December children are expected to clean out their shoes so that Nikolaus can come in the night and leave candies or other little treats inside them. If the shoes aren't clean, the children receive coal. Der Weihnachtsman knocks on their door Christmas Eve night. He has their presents for them. He also has a list of good and bad things they did that year. If they sing and dance and say that they'll be better next year then he has their presents for them. If they haven't been good then they are whipped with a bunch of tree boughs. I have some conflicting evidence as to whether he says hohoho.

The Netherlands: There is a man who sails in on a ship from Spain and brings little things for the children who clean out their shoes in the beginning of January. This happens more than one night. And I think they also receive coal for uncleaned shoes. On Christmas Eve comes a man who apparently now fits the description of the Coca-cola Santa.

Switzerland: Nikolaus/Santa Clause/der Weihnachtsman visits the Children in the beginning of January. He rides a donkey. He's not fat. He wears a long red coat. He brings oranges and peanuts. He lives in the Black Forest. He only cares about Switzerland. He has a little henchman named Schmutzli (which I think comes from meaning dirty) who comes with him. He brings a broom thing and... takes care of children who have been naughty. If they've been really bad the might be taken back to the black forest in Nickolaus' bag. On Christmas day the children receive their presents from der Christkind (Christ child). I think I think Switzerland wins in my book


Whew. Ok so I might have mixed some of that up. But there's your Christmas mythology tutorial. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Apparently people are following me

You Guessed It

Happy 12.12.12.12.12! Well actually it's not 12:12 in Germany, but it is somewhere in the world. I do have to admit, though, it's not as cool as 11.11.11. Why? Because it's not all the same number. You know what I mean? I don't know that I can bring myself to properly make a wish at 12:12. It's just not the same. But I still love it.

Today I ate smoked eel for the first time in my life.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Swiss Sizes

**Record number of "anyway"s

Mary Poppins must have been Swiss

Today was quite the adventure through/around Switzerland. But since I don't want to completely overwhelm you let me just say something concerning trains. I rode many of them today.

I'm quite certain that more than half of the Swiss Armed Forces was waiting on my platform in the morning. Do you know what that means...? You probably think I'm going to say something like: Men in uniform!!

But no. It means a full train. Anyway, I asked a woman if the seat across from her was free and sat myself down. I didn't observe her that closely, but she was at least old enough to be my mother. And she was knitting. That's really all I know. NBD. A couple trains later a girl asked if the seat across from me was free. I said it was and she sat herself down and took off her coat. She produced a brand new pair of thermal shoe sole inserts (which I greatly envied) and placed them in her boots. She then suddenly had a tissue in hand. Next thing I knew she had pulled out an ipod. After that, a yogurt with a spoon. Just when I thought she can't get anymore prepared she started to knit. She was probably not much older than me. Maybe mid to late twenties. Just before the next stop, the ticket-checker came around and completely skipped over her as she went for her ticket. She exchanged a puzzled look with me and then shortly thereafter exited the train. I thought to myself, I have GOT to get me one of those bags--it holds everything AND makes you invisible (not that I would go ticketless, but I got checked twice on two of my trains). A couple trains later another girl asked if the seat across from me was free. Again I said ja and she sat down. She was probably pretty close to my age too. Maybe a little younger. She, like the other girl, took off her coat and settled in. She then reached into her bag and pulled out an ipod. Then her smart phone. Then a rather large book. After a little while she replaced the book and pulled out... HER KNITTING! It was followed by a water bottle and some sort of chips or other food. These Swiss girls, I'm telling you. I don't know how they do it. And it's as if whatever they need just magically appears on top. No digging or rummaging. Maybe if I took up knitting, I too would have magic powers...

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Abs like mine

I never get sick. Except the entire month of November this year. What's that about? Well I actually still sound like I've been chain-smoking for years. But let me tell you I feel great, AND in that time I discovered the long-coveted solution to getting fit quick. Come close--it's a secret... BRONCHITIS! My abs have never been this good in my life and all because I laid in bed for two days straight.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Advent-ures

So, Germany celebrates more Christian holidays than we do so I've been learning about this advent business. All I knew about it was that we eat a piece of candy every day of December up until Christmas. I love candy, and I love Christmas, and I love countdowns so this is right up my alley. But apparently you're supposed to light a candle on a wreath each of the four weekends before Christmas. Anyway, this was the first advent weekend, and boy was it a good 'un. I know I don't normally do travelog style, but I'm kind of going to now. Prepare yourself.

So Saturday I went to the city and was greeted by... well a late and rather full train. But when I got out of the station I was greeted by... WEINACHTSMARKT! Hallo? Yes please. It was a relatively small one, but I was stoked. There was an itty bitty baby Ferris Wheel and tons of vendors, and I spoke German (gasp), and I totally bought a 100g cone thing of roasted almonds (I'll get to the chestnuts later), and I devoured them at once. Ask me if I got a stomach ache. The answer is yes. Ask me if I regret it. The answer is a resounding no. There were some wicked sweet musicians playing the Hallelujah Chorus. It was kind of magical.

Then today I woke up and did my thing. When I went down the stairs, something out the window caught my eye. It was white flakey stuff coming down from the clouds. It DOES snow here. I was beginning to envy my friends in other parts of Germany who were claiming to have it. Throughout the morning the flakes got to be quarter-sized. Magical. So thank you, Germany, for starting off my Christmas month in style!

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

We can always find them...

Happy Tuesday after Thanksgiving. Since we can be thankful at any time: I'm thankful for the people who have been and continue to be in my life.

People often ask me if it's hard to move around, to start over somewhere new just as I'm starting to get settled. The best answer is in German: Jaein. In spite of living so far from my family and many of my friends, this has become a blessing in disguise. It has taught me to appreciate the people in my life while they're right there accessible to me. But it's also taught me that the people who matter will always be there. As Sirius Black said (although I think it was Dumbledore in the book. Maybe Lupin. Blast), "Those who love us never really leave us. And we can always find them...right here (puts his hand over Harry's heart). With modern technology (refer back to my love of Skype) there's no excuse to lose touch with anyone. It's a small world after all. I've found some of the most unexpected connections between people that I know from different spheres, or even different continents. So I figure there are two types of people in my life: people who stay, and people who go. They both leave their mark. Besides, people have a way of popping up again.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Happy Holidays! No really.

No one needs to know...

I know some people are doing a "30 days of thanks" sort of thing in light of Thanksgiving this month. I'm not that cool or consistent, but I have been thinking lately of things I'm grateful for. For example: Skype (or any other video chat application). And let me tell you why. Phones have long distance fees and are nothing more than scary disembodied voices in your ear, but skype is like having a face-to-face conversation, only I can completely control almost all other factors.

1. It does not matter how messy my room is. I just sit in a clean corner and everything behind the computer could be a war-zone. They don't have to know that it's laundry day and I have two piles of dirty clothes sorted and one clean load hanging up to dry all over the room.
2. I can sit anywhere. That includes laying in my bed (although that one still depends on the person)
3. I can multi-task. I'm not sure that I would make/sit down and eat dinner or clean the kitchen if someone came to visit, but on skype, it's suddenly ok. No need for hospitality.
4.No germs. I doesn't matter if I was just coughing up a lung. No one is going to get a single germ from it. And although I do love brushing my teeth and frequently do so before skyping (or sometimes while-refer back to number 3) there's no reason to be self-conscious, even about morning breath or garlic breath.
5. No one knows what I'm wearing. I can be wearing my sweatpants and slippers, or that really ugly stained t-shirt. Just keep the camera high.
6. Fat days. No one needs to know.
7. Time differences are suddenly not a problem (except when someone does the math wrong and you end up waiting around forever). Not only that but they're a plus. And the fact that I'm in a different time zone only grants me more leniency.
8. Mute button. If I don't want someone to hear me. They simply won't.
9. Screen grab. Just when your friend decides to cross one eye. BAM. Captured forever. When I can remember the key shortcut, that is.
10. Dispute resolution. When it comes to that impass in the conversation where that random world fact must be resolved (either to appease your sudden curiosity or to resolve a conflict) the world is already at your fingertips. What's even better is, if you were wrong, you can sometimes just not mention that you looked it up and hope that they didn't.

I only hope that no one I skype with is reading this, otherwise I've just outed myself. Puh-lease. Like you don't do it too.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Watches and Deodorant

The funny thing about cultural differences is that they lurk in the most unexpected places. People expect differences in speech, personal space, diet and clothing. But what about those everyday things. I think I've mention this before but Germans are not afraid to use milk with some fat in it. None of that skim business here. However, it's also not possible to buy a gallon... But on the lurker list here are two of my personal faves: deodorant and watches. I happened to mention to my friend that I have been wanting a watch. She was kind of weirded out by this since I'm not traditionally a watch-wearer (which actually isn't entirely true. I wore watches in middle school and even high school. I think I traded them in for a cel phone). Maybe it's just me but I feel like, in the US, watches are worn by business men. Or really any man with a profession. That's pretty much it. And my mother (who seems to kill them). But I don't know many young, American, adult women who wear a watch. German women do. Who'd think? But it's actually quite sensible. I wish to be in the watch-wearing-women club. At least for a trial run. I just haven't picked one. As for deodorant, this isn't recent news to me, but it was just reiterated the other day as I walked into the locker room after working out. My nose was greeted by anything but the smell of sweaty people. The girls informed me that the people that had just left had pretty much doused themselves with deodorant. It's not that we don't have people dousing themselves in the US, just not with deodorant. I'm just so intrigued by this concept. I'm tempted to try it. Maybe someday before I leave. Maybe. I guess it does make sharing more sanitary. 

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

My Toothbrush Hits the Ground

This is not a subtly blatant cry for reprieve from the overwhelming stresses that are swallowing me up. I actually just really like this video for several reasons, and, since I'm sure what Milow most desires in his life is my approval--blog style, I'm going to put my two cents worth in.

1. I appreciate clever lyrics. No need for profanity or sexual innuendoes. Just a clever and relatable story which RHYMES! And what's up with him being able to do that in his non-Native language (yes this is me being jealous).

2. I love simplicity in music. Just him and his guitar. No autotuning, excessive bass/drums, or fireworks. There's  a time and a place for those too, but sometimes they're just a crutch.

3. I appreciate authenticity in performance. Playing with the audience, messing up his own lyrics, chuckling at himself. It always tickles me a little bit to see that. People, we do not need to take ourselves too seriously. Performers are just people that, for one reason or another, everyone wants to see.

4. He mentions his toothbrush. I love toothbrushes.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

The "Smokey Eye"

I know what you're thinking. Initial thought: Holy crap that is a very close up picture of an eye. Ew. Then, if you were able to get past the creep-factor, you thought, "Wow. You have a lot of freckles on your nose." As my youngest brother once said "Some families are black. Some families are white. Our family is white. Except Felicia. She's polka-spotted." Thank you. But once you moved past these shockers you (probably only if you're a woman) became jealous of my subtle mastery of what I believe is called the "smokey eye". This is a highly sought after look, particularly for going out in the evening, and possibly having something to do with vampires. People pay big money for Carmindy to teach them the secret. Well I have it. It's free and takes me literally no prep time. Jealous? Unfortunately I don't think the matching nose normally comes with it. I guess that's just an extra special perk.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

So, who did YOU vote for?

The US election is over. Over the past few months of election season I've found a couple of things surprising.

1. How much I hear about it. I'm ashamed to say that I am not exactly the most politically informed person, but I didn't expect to hear so much about the election while living in Germany. I don't remember hearing this much about most other countries elections when I lived in the US. It came on the news on the radio or even the advertising screen on the train/subway. My non-American friends have been posting about it on facebook and people have been asking me my opinion. Which leads me to the second shocker.

2. I didn't realize how uniquely taboo political leanings are in the US. It completely threw me for a loop when someone came straight out and asked: "So who are you voting for?" I guess it didn't occur to me just how oddly private we are about it.

And I bet now you're thinking: So... who DID you vote for?! Bah.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Revolutionizing your silverware drawer...

What's YOUR holiday policy?

I have a confession to make. I've already started listening to Christmas music. And I'm not ashamed of it. In all fairness, weeks ago I walked into a store and was greeted by this:

Ok. So maybe my photography isn't going to win any state fair, but I was trying to remain incognito. You know, where you pretend like you're just texting... Anyway, my policy is normally November first or the first snow (whichever comes first), but I was thinking about the great music I was going to listen to in a few short days and I just couldn't wait. Now there's no turning back. I don't really know what the protocol in Germany is. I should ask. I don't think they're as finicky as Americans. But most people in the US follow the "After Thanksgiving" or maybe "after Halloween". They normally have some argument about skipping holidays. I've got news for you. Germany doesn't officially celebrate either one of those holidays (along with most other countries). Ha. You are invalidated. But for those of you bah humbugs out there here's a Thanksgiving song for the meantime (you can come back to it on Thursday if you ABSOLUTELY MUST).

At least Josh understands the season. And that season should be year-round.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

I wanna know about the strangest lightning

One thing that separates the linguistic capabilities of humans apart from other animals is the instinctive attempt to separate series of sounds into words, whether we comprehend them or not. That being said, we try to pick out sounds that we recognize as words.

Throughout my stay in Germany I have heard the songs of "Tangled" more times in German than I can count (granted math really isn't my thing). For months I've thought to myself "How strange. Why is he saying 'I'll decide' in the midst of this German?" I knew that couldn't possibly be what he was saying, but I couldn't help but hear it. Finally, a couple of days ago, I exclaimed, "ALL DIE ZEIT! Is THAT what he's saying?!" I can't express to you the relief which washed over me. I've slept much better ever since. Granted, this isn't just a cross-language issue. I also thought the Phil Collins song from "Tarzan" said, "I wanna know. Can you show me? I wanna know about the strangest lightning." Come on. Don't pretend that you've never misheard lyrics.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Italian-American Pizza

A "must" while I was in Italy was, of course, to eat pizza. Obviously that is slightly problematic for me, but we found a restaurant that was accommodating. I noticed "American Pizza" on the menu. I read what that entailed--French Fries. Interesting. I can honestly say I had never eaten a pizza topped with fries. I was curious but, instead went with something more reliable. Or so I thought. I ordered sausage and onions. Simple. When I got my plate it was...hotdogs. If I'd read the menu in German I might have recognized the word as "little sausages" and realized exactly what I would be getting. Sausages. Not sausage. Silly American.

I decided to complete the foible by adding a fry to it to experience real American Pizza and viola! The complete American experience. In Italy.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Nose Wings

Common Sense Caution

As I was brushing my teeth, the back of a hair product on my shelf caught my eye. It said:

Common Sense Caution

For external use only. Avoid contact with eyes. If contact occurs, flush eyes thoroughly with cool water. If adverse reaction occurs, discontinue use and call a physician.

Keep out of reach of children

For external use only... I think they lie.  I'm sure that if I ate this stuff my hair would stay wherever I simply willed it to be.

Avoid contact with eyes... I thought it would make my contacts stay in place too (No I don't wear contacts). Or perhaps for those pesky eye follicles that always frizz on me.

Discontinue use... I once heard that the definition of insanity was trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results. That's all I'm going to say on that.

Call a physician... Don't tell me what to do! But good thing there have been enough lawsuits along these lines that, just in case I'm unsure what to do when suffering from physical ailments, a beauty product tube will remind me. I wonder if the people reading the tube are the ones who need the reminder? What kind of person does it make me for reading it? Hmm...

Bottom line. Actually top line. I can think of no better header for this warning label. So thank you, company from which I bought my hair product. I appreciate your sass. Although you were overpriced. Apparently I was paying extra for character.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Soundtrack to My Life

Ok. Prepare yourself for a multi-media presentation and a fair bit of nerdiness. Click play on the following link and then continue reading.

One of the best choices of my life was whipping out my old ipod nano for the long(est roadtrip of my life) down to Sardinia. I had forgotten how much music I had on there that wasn't on my phone--particularly in the soundtrack genre. I plugged in and drifted off for the first half of the drive (thanks to some German version of Dramamine). When I woke up it was dark outside and we had reached the Swiss Alps. This song was playing, and I looked out the window and watched the shadowy outlines of the mountains surrounding me. I looked down into a valley and it was full of lights. You might say that they were just normal city lights, but I'm pretty sure it was actually the lit-up trees of an elf community. I could be wrong, but I don't think so. I thought to myself: how cool is my life? Hello? Sigh. I'm pretty much a member of the Fellowship. More or less. You may now either finish listening to the song and visualizing (or dancing, or meditating or whatever) or stop it. But before you read any more start the next link.

The road went ever on and on, and just as this song began to greet my ears we rounded a corner and found Rohan. A ways up the mountain was a lone structure. It was an old castley building with lights pointed on it so that it stood out burning white against the black mountain background as its red flag waved proudly from where there should have been a roof, but I don't know that there is anymore. Who says life isn't as good as a movie? I manage to fit in probably every genre at some point or another, and I even have my own soundtrack.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Bauchnabel

I'm going to be out of commission for a little while, but have no fear; check back in a couple weeks. I just wanted to leave you with one note. I love German. It is a beautiful language with many good words. However, I have learned that there is no German word for innie/outie. I mean, there is a word for belly button, but, apparently, there is no distinguishing them. It makes me feel very sad. This is a part of one's identity and sense of self. It is like a club that you're initiated into at birth, and no one is picked last for this team. Well except maybe the last person ever born. He or she will be.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Gebärdensprache

Fall Has Arove

Hygiene Gone Awry

I like soap. I like washing my hands. I like being clean. But what to do when hand-washing goes south? You lean into a wet sink... The soap squirts straight out, bypassing your hand and hitting either your pants or shirt head-on... There's no towel and you have to use your clothes or be the yucky wet-handed person... These are the moments in life when all you can do is sigh and think "Why me?" Wet is wet and there's nothing you can do about it. Paper towels will only leave follicles in your clothes. Cloth towels will do jack squat, and an air dryer is an slow and tedious solution involving awkward positions and no guarantee for success. And soap? Well that's a different story. Do you leave it? Hopefully it doesn't leave a dark mark. Or do you try to rinse it out? That never seems to work. It only spreads the soap and leaves you wetter than either of the other two situations. These are inevitable trials of life and the convenience of indoor plumbing.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

8 month check-up

Happy Birthday to me. Well maybe it's not exactly the day marking my birth. Nor is it a one year mark of anything. Although no part of birthday translates to "one year" as "anniversary" does. But I guess the day of your birth only happens once a year. Actually it only happens once in your life so technically your birthday could also imply the day of the week you were born on, therefore allowing for a birthday every week. Interesting. Well I, for one, actually prefer to celebrate my half birthday. It is such a great day. Today, however is my 8 month German birthday. In other words: Germany has survived me for 8 months. Whew. Now. I have hit a few landmarks. Some of these have been shared on previous occasions, but I just thought I would check in and give a little updatey-poo. You can stop reading at any time. This will probably get long. 

First off, I've had this stuck in my head lately:

"Stresses in our lives come regardless of our circumstances. We must deal with them the best we can. But we should not let them get in the way of what is most important--and what is most important almost always involves the people around us." (Thomas S. Monson)

Second, countries tend to be known for different things. I've now been to Austria, Switzerland, France, and Ireland (which I know isn't a huge list, but it's a sampler tray). They are known for their beauty, and I shan't deny that they have it. But can we just hold the phone for a second.

 

Why isn't Germany included in this list? I, for one, think this is an injustice. Maybe beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Maybe beauty can be found anywhere by those who seek it. Maybe you disagree with me. But a picture's worth a thousand words and I just gave you 5 not even getting into the architecture of the cities or the huge variety of landscapes. You can think what you will.

Moving on. I thought this would be the opportune moment to de-bunk a couple myths:

Germans--Very few are actually tall, blonde, AND blue-eyed. And I have yet to meet one named Rolph or Helga.

The German Language-- This does not involve spitting. I don't think I have ever been showered upon (except perhaps with love) by someone speaking German.

The Autobahn--Not that scary. It is not a racetrack between cities where everyone drives 300 miles per hour (although they occasionally push close to 300 kilometers per hour).

Ok. Who survived all the way to this very climactic ending? Conclusion: Basically Germany is pretty cool and stuff.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Damage Control

In a Right-Handed World

Who knew there could be such thing as a right-handed butter knife? Let's just say breakfast on the first morning of my trip both began and ended in tears (although not really). I came in prepared to fend for myself and TA-DA there was a table that said "Laktose Frei Gluten Frei." I got a little choked up, I'm not going to lie. I may have done a very tiny happy dance, and the chances are good that a squeak emitted from my diaphragm. However, when I went to spread my Nutella, I noticed that it was all being eaten by the butter knife. Some handcentric person invented the plastic knife with a huge groove, allowing only right-handed use to be practical. What is this world coming to? Don't worry, having grown up left-handed I, like my fellow minority, have learned to adapt. Survival of the fittest, my friends. I'd like to see you use a left-handed butter knife. Although I have noticed that Germans eat with either hand. Maybe that point is negated. But the real point is, good thing I was able to rise above, otherwise I would have had a Nutella-less breakfast. Which would have been a shame after having already overcoming so much.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

I just don't want to be a poser

**Disclaimer: I actually really like it when other people say it with an accent.

Wurstzehen

I learned a new word! Wurstzehen. Meaning: Sausage toes. You might be asking why, and I have a very good explanation. Because I have them. But only on one foot. The right to be specific. So Wednesday night I was faced with the decision of playing volleyball or going for a run and then early bed. To be honest, I wasn't really motivated to go running but I got dressed accordingly and then, while stalling, decided to go to volleyball instead. While I was driving there I had that feeling that something bad was going to happen. Sometimes I just make things up so I figured I'd let it go and find out. I did the "what's the worst that could happen" with myself. I could get a speeding ticket... Or I could just not speed. Problem solved. I could get there and it's cancelled... In that case I got a nice drive in. No harm done. I wasn't even through the first set when I realized that I hadn't thought of one other possibility. I collided with someone else and twisted my foot. I don't think it's supposed to make those noises. I got up and after a couple steps I'd walked it off. It was mildly sensitive for the rest of the night (not that I would admit it), but once I changed into my normal shoes I realized that my shoes being a half size too small was a lifesaver. Apparently it stabilized my foot and kept the swelling down. By the time I got home it was easiest to hop from the car to the house. It progressively got worse that night until it hurt even to touch the ground. We just happened to have a surgeon in the house that night who took a look at it and said I should probably get it X-rayed in the morning just to be safe. And after a rough night I decided to see if I like going to doctors any more in Germany than I do in the US. The doctor, of course, said it wasn't broken, wrapped it, and gave me a bunch of ibuprofen. It was like being back home. But if the wrap had been tan rather than hot pink my little toes would have looked exactly like pigs in a blanket. Moral of the story: Listen to that little voice inside. But I have to be honest: After making the winning serves of two sets that came down to being won by two, and actually successfully spiking (that's what I'm calling it at least), I do not regret two days of hopping. Plus I'm going to have a darn nice left calf and quad after this.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Remembrance

I can picture the classroom I was sitting in eleven years ago. We had to take FACS which was basically a home skills class, and we had a classroom with kitchens in it. A teacher came in and started talking to ours. We all just sat there rather bored and wondering what the hold-up was. We weren't allowed to turn the tv on. We didn't really know what was going on. When I got home that day, I found out that my country had been attacked.
Today my facebook newsfeed was smattered with statuses of remembrance, and one of those got me thinking about why we remember today. And many people around the world don't. But they remember something similar. Living abroad, I've heard different opinions of Americans/American patriotism, the war, terrorism, international relations, and even 9/11 itself. But no matter who you are or what you think of any of these things let me make myself clear: There is bad in the world. But there's good too. And we can all be both. There is no more room for hate toward anyone in this world. We all need to be more tolerant, more understanding, more accepting, and a lot more loving. We all need to, individually and collectively, be that good.

I'm not just saying. I'm definitely saying.

"Sport" as the Germans say

While I was on my trip (by the way it was for a convention) I participated in a few... activities. All were legal and none involved alcohol, just to clarify. One morning presented the opportunity for Sport (as the Germans say it. And I kind of like it; I'm not going to lie). Options: Basketball tournament, Football (as in soccer) tournament, Volleyball tournament, or Zumba. The first two were just not happening. Not that there's anything wrong with these sports but I haven't played either one since gym class a number of years ago and... just no. The third option sounded fun minus the tournament part... I couldn't take the heat. So that left me with either Zumba or actually coming up with something creative (ha. Not happening). Thus the decision was made. Confession: I used to do Zumba at my gym (the fact that I had a gym membership may, in and of itself, be shocking to you. But hey now let's not judge). It was hilarious. But something about it being in German made it even better. Words cannot do it justice. I even got to test out my translating skills for another American there since I'm quite certain watching the girl on the stage wasn't enough.
"Cross. Cross. Cross... Turn... Left... Right." What can I say? I got mad German skills.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin.'.

Roadtrip!

I took a wee roadtrip this weekend with some friends. Oh dear. Where to begin? Where to end? Where to go in between. Let's start at my birth. At this time it was made very clear that I am not one for stressful situations. I guess that's where it ends too.

Ok. To fill in a teensy bit more... Our arrival time was SUPER flexible. You'd think that would mean that I had all the time in the world. Wrong. I was meeting my compatriots at the train station and going forth from there. So I worked in the morning and then had to finish preparing myself. There were casualties. I cut my finger at lunch. This injury probably has the highest rate of any in Germany due to the exorbitant amounts of Brötchen being consumed (and therefore sliced directly in the hand). Seeing as I can't even eat Brötchen, I, of course, did it cutting a tomato. I don't want to talk about it. Now that I'm back my wound has magically and instantaneously healed. But what the heck? It would not do so the entire time I was away. Rude. Anyway, by the time I had left my hair looked like Hermione's. It was quite incredible actually. It was as if I could see a clear relationship between stress level and frizz level. And let's just say that relationship was not exactly in my favor. Luckily my friends' train was cancelled, and they had to catch the next one, therefore biding me some time. And quite fortunate that was indeed because we were still there earlier than would have been ideal. So once we were on the road and I had given them the verbal handbook for driving with me, we had a virtually hitchless trip. Which is more than I can say for the return. Minus the man who almost merged into me because he was ILLEGALLY talking on his cel phone. But at least no one was drumming on the steering wheel (I mean with actual drumsticks. And no free hand to, say, steer) as I've seen in Utah.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

There's only one Schwa...

My little brother needed some help learning some music. Thank goodness for skype. One song was in German so I helped him with the pronunciation. The other song I told him he'd be fine with since it's in English. Then I looked at the music and ate my words a little. The English wasn't even real English. Luckily there were pronunciation keys to some of the words. Anyway, I looked at one that said the following:

Kilvarnet -- Kihl-VAHR-nuht; the "uh" sound is the neutral, unaccented schwa.

This is where I ask for the name of your phonetician. I'm very sorry to tell you this, but there is no other kind of schwa. If it's not neutral and unaccented then it ceases to be a schwa. That's all there is to it. Anyone reading that little note either (1) knows what schwa means, therefore rendering the adjectives completely superfluous or (2) doesn't know what it means and will simply disregard it on account of its having too many consonants in a row.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Russo-Deutsch

I haven’t really said much lately about my exploits in the German language. This is a slow yet steady progression. So, I spend some time with a group of people who are primarily Russian. I would love to learn Russian; however, I think it best that, for now, I focus my attention on the language of the country I’m in. Perhaps. Normally these people speak German and I can keep up with what’s going on (as for responding… well that’s another story). Anyway, this past week the group was a little more condensed than usual and I thought… well I don’t really know what I thought/expected. But suddenly I found myself unable to understand them. I thought:

Is my German getting worse?

Does everyone else dumb things down more for me?

Are their accents thicker than I thought?

What language have I been learning?

Are they even speaking German?

So I wrestled with these thoughts for the first day. I swear I heard some German words in there every once in a while. Mostly I was just confused. The second day one girl (whose dad is Russian but has lived in Germany for I don’t know how long) said (in German) “Hey. German please.” Bahahaha. Her dad kind of rolled his eyes and said “Kid,” but I felt TOTALLY validated. They were speaking Russian. See. I know my German. Ha.

I’m not sayin’; I’m just sayin’.

The open book that is called my face

Hello...

**This is not a German store

Cover your Achilles

I went for a wee jog this morning. Ok. Actually I think it was around noon, but I was still lollygagging about in my pajamas. Anyway, I hadn't even gotten 2 blocks before I heard a yapping. There are many yippy dogs in my neighborhood so I just ignored it. I had my headphones in and was rocking out to a song that had been stuck in my head (serving as motivation for my exercise for the week). I remember learning once that if a dog is chasing you then you shouldn't run. But normally these dogs only come so far and his human was standing by so I figured he'd turn around soon enough. Plus the thing was so shrimpy that the only real danger was in regards to my running shoes (I only have one pair, and they aren't cheap) and I wondered whether he could reach my Achilles tendon. You just don't mess with those. This is a somewhat embarrassing reflection upon my own pace since I couldn't outrun the little runt, he was so close that my running feet may or may not have gotten him in the face. But that's neither here nor there. I finally determined that he was not to be deterred. Plus he was distracting me from my song. I stopped and shooed him a little and told him to go away. Then I realized that I'm still in Germany and this dog probably knows German. Or if nothing else, the old man coming for him speaks German and I didn't want him to hear me and my American English, so I settled for pantomime and a darn scary death-stare (I'm serious--this is not something you want to be exposed to). The man most certainly spoke German. And to great effect. I'm not sure if I was relieved or disappointed that my vocabulary lists thus far have not quite covered the words he was using, but I'm definitely not sad that they weren't in reference to me. I had paused my song (not sure if the man was going to say something to me and kind of curious as to what he was saying), but he didn't say anything and I started walking further down the sidewalk. The dog still obstinately wouldn't go to him but also continued down the sidewalk on the other side of the street and stopped to defiantly mark a pole on his way. As I turned at the end of the block the man was still going off on the dog and I started my song over, got back in my groove and vaguely tried to imagine the effect had he been speaking another language. French maybe...

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin.

Swag

Oh the swag. Here I sit watching the Olympics. I haven't taken much to German TV and so my evenings have been smattered with world sports. It's kinda weird, though watching it through a German lens. I guess it didn't occur to me that it would be any different (excuse the ethnocentrism), but, luckily, US has enough athletes to get considerable airtime. Anyway, It always seems to be swimming, so that's what I've gotten an eyefull of. I know nothing about swimming. My roommate tried to teach me how to swim once. I won't drown or anything, but let's just leave it at that. I've kinda taken to the sport though. It might be because of the cool flags and world record line that magically appears over the lanes. It might be the excitement of friendly country rivalry (I love Germany, but, sorry, I'm still an American first). OR it might be the swimmers' swagger as the come out the cool door with their name and country projected on the little wall and their fancy headphones or statement lack thereof. It doesn't seem like other sports get quite the entrance as this, at least it's not shown on TV. And I guess I just think that swag in general is kinda funny. Although I don't think I've ever done anything that would justify or drive me to do it, so maybe if I had then I would understand.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Magical Fruit Flies

Just as a random bemusing which I wish to send out into cyberspace:
You know those little bugs? Fruit flies maybe? Anyway, they seem to just kind of float around. But the moment you try to catch them they disappear. What's that about? You think they're moving so slow, and you are using your ninja moves, but the fly is gone (soon to return) and your hand is empty. Where the heck do they go?

I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.

I love Germans. And cheese. (In no particular order)

Yes. Two in one day. Try to contain yourself. But this is a much happier note.

I love Germans. I can't help it. I particularly love the way they talk. I was recently having girls night with an American friend who lives in Germany and also spent some time in Utah, like me. We started talking about how the mindset is different in Germany as far as interpersonal relations are concerned. I like it. Let's just say, that Germans are more in favor of simply saying what they think. And that works for me much better than beating around the bush. The other day I was with some people, and there were snacks involved which I hadn't quite made my way over to yet. One girl came over munching on the food in her napkin, hugged me, and said:

"Hi! How are you? I just LOOVE CHEESE." (insert blissful voice, head thrown slightly back, and eyes rolled into head)
I responded and laughed a little. When I explained what was so funny she apologized and asked me again how I was. This only made it funnier since she was apparently so distracted by her love of cheese that she didn't realize that she'd already asked me this and I'd already answered. We then proceeded to bond over our love of cheese. When I mentioned the "Cheese State" She said, "What's that?" I told her it's just the nickname of one of the states because they're known for their cheese. "But which one!?" She inquired eagerly. After I told her she said, "I must GO to Wisconsin! This is now on my list of places to see!" I don't know that I've ever met anyone so excited to go to Wisconsin, but more power to her. And I am so happy that I have found someone who shares my love of cheese. Which reminds me. I went to a fair at a palace not too long ago, and as I was at the stand where one can buy all sorts of crazy cheeses, I saw...

THIS MAN.

Thanks to my passion for cheese, I saw my first REAL German.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

The latest in t-shirts. Unfortunately.

Many a time have I been astonished, even bamboozled, by the audacity of a particular "genre" of t-shirt which seems to pop up, particularly in trendy, teeny-bopper stores. I have often wondered if girls actually wear them. My question has been answered. I honestly am not sure of the girl's age. Maybe 16? But I was so distracted by what she was wearing that I don't even remember her. I guess her apparel did it's work. It depicted a woman from barely the waist up covering her own nudity while demonstrating how long her middle finger is. Seriously? How classy can you get? If I don't remember who was wearing the shirt, I'm going to assume no man on the street can either. I can somewhat understand a man thinking that wearing something like this is cool. This is the only "hot girl" he can get and she'll go everywhere with him--like a little trophy. Rather pathetic, really. But coming from a girl?! Come on. You are encouraging the objectification and de-humanization of of your own gender. You are also (and most significantly) crippling yourself.

But let's just take a look at this for a second. What is she trying to accomplish? Attention. However, there are a few flaws in her logic as far as I can tell.

1. I suppose, since I am writing an entire blog post on this then you were somewhat successful in getting attention. What my attention does for you, I have no idea. If this was a cry for help, consider yourself heard. You're better than that. If not, keep reading.
2. As I said, no one cares who's wearing the shirt. Thusly you have actually attracted people to you by detracting from yourself simultaneously.
3. Do you think you look like that? If so, why would you want to distract from your own good looks by flaunting some airbrushed figment of the imagination? Is it a ploy at a two-for-one deal?
4. You don't look like that. Whether you think you do or not. All you're going to do is highlight all of your own flaws to the man who is shallow enough to fall for the billboard you are wearing. So if you're trying to make yourself look better, you're not. And if you're trying to make your good looks apparent, you're not. Lose-lose.

Girl, you are young. Please grow out of this fast. It's for your own good. If you are considering perhaps trying out this new fad, please take my logic into account. Don't make an object of yourself, and please, let the girl who this picture is based on remain a person as well.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

OUI! MERCI!

Women share a special bond that transcends culture, age, or language. Men might as well, but I can't say I've experienced it firsthand. I was recently in Paris-yes, like the city of love-and this bond was reaffirmed to me. I was walking down the street (probably the Champs Élysées but I rarely actually knew where I was so it's difficult to be sure). As I left some sort of shopping building thing I noticed something white fluttering close to the ground. I did a double take, just to be sure. I thought things like this only happened in the movies. But, then again, this Paris, so my last statement is null and void. And it really was what I thought: A piece of toilet paper stuck to the shoe of a middle-aged woman walking with her husband/boyfriend/friend/significant other. Like I said-woman bond. I could not let her continue on in such a manner. So, naturally, I tapped her on the shoulder. No response. So I tried the other shoulder. Still nothing. But at this point at had come so far that there was no turning back. I simply could not let her proceed into that crowd. I tried again, back on the first shoulder. Harder and longer. In retrospect I realize that it was lucky she didn't scream and try to have me arrested for assault. Instead she and her man both turned and looked at me as if that was the first they realized that anyone was there (lucky for them I'm not a pickpocket). It dawned on me then that I hadn't fully thought this plan out so I simply pointed down and said, "Um. Your shoe." The woman looked down and it was as if I could see the wires connect when she realized why this strange girl was accosting her on the street. She exclaimed, "Oui! Merci!" It was then that I also once again realized that I didn't think this plan out very well. I also realized that I don't know how to respond to Merci in French. I gave an awkward head jerk and hurried off down the street, hoping not to end up walking beside them again. Good deed=done. Although perhaps I should think such things out better. Nah. Then I wouldn't go through with them, and the woman bond would potentially go broken. Although the next day I let some other woman outside I public bathroom use my hand sanitizer. She said she couldn't get the sink to work. That just would not do.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

I have an owie on my elbow

Yesterday I went on a wee daytrip and I was definitely greeted with surprises. First: I saw an eichörnchen. Twice. Or maybe it was two different ones. It's difficult to be sure, but I suspect it was a repeat. Second: I found a free bathroom in a mall. And it was decently well-kept. Third: I was moderately accosted on the street.

Well, since you asked, I'll give some deets on the last one there, although I would gladly do the same on the others. I was walking down the lane in the pedestrian area. It was moderately peopled and there was a young-ish guy walking in my direction. The next thing I knew, the wind was almost knocked out of me and there was pain in my elbow. As I coughed, I turned around to watch him walk away. He turned back and apologized as he hurried on his way. Where the fire was I have no idea. However, I did make sure to check for my valuables to be sure that this wasn't some convincing pick-pocketing scheme. Luckily my purse was on the other side of my body and nothing was missing. But there is a mark on my elbow. I'm just still trying to figure out how he caused me to experience a loss of breath and also a stinging sensation in my arm. My best conclusion is that he actually only hit my arm, causing me to knock the wind out of myself. Hm. This is what happens when you unflex your rock hard abs for a split second. And I shall never do it again.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Also, everyone should thank their father/father figure. There's no not sayin' about it. I'm totally sayin'.

Blue Ghostbusters That I Used to Know.

German radio is an interesting thing. I listen to it in the car. One day I was scanning through stations and a familiar tune caught my attention: "When there's somethin' weird in the neighborhood, who ya gonna call..." I, of course, listened to the entire song and totally rocked out with it, despite the fact that I'm pretty sure I've never watched the entire movie. On another occasion my ears caught the very end of "...I get knocked down, and I get up again. You're never gonna keep me down." Not to mention the time I listened to all of "I'm Blue," and sang along. I just realized that the verse is the same every time. No wonder I knew the words, it's basically just two choruses repeated over and over with less than complex lyrics. It's not always a flashback to the pre-teen years, though. The following song used to serenade me every time I got in the car, almost without fail. And I'm not gonna lie, I didn't mind. But lately, the radio has been failing me. Or maybe it's my scan button whose timing is off. Either way, although I have never taken a video of myself, I'm sure that I look something like these children. Although I do not have a booster seat (some would argue that I need one) and I do have all of my grown-up teeth. And I can probably be heard several cars away.

Come on, you know it's catchy. One day when I was going through withdrawals, it came on the radio in my German class when we were supposed to be working with a partner. How in the world did the teacher expect me to do the assignment when it was taking all of my focus to strain my ears to hear the radio. Sheesh.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

The cupboard under the stairs

I was outside yesterday and looked up at the roof of my house and saw in a corner a thread of a spider web. Only the longest thread. How do they do that? Do they always start with the longest and then weave it back and forth from their corner? Or do they work their way out? I found myself concluding that, since Spiderman is able to shoot his web, this must be based upon a truth about his namesake--the arachnids themselves. I could look it up, but I'd rather just ponder.

More importantly, however, I have been on a Harry Potter kick. Another one. Ok ok I will admit that I go through this frequently. This time it's worse, though, because half of the series is back in Utah with my closet Harry Potter fan friend. Anyway, I was recently watching the 6th movie. There is a scene in which Dumbledore is reminiscing about how much Harry has grown. I daresay that the entire world has seen the poor kid grow and will always remember him as the little boy in the cupboard under the stairs, just as Dumbledore. That's gotta be weird. What really gets me, though is that Harry responds, "You still look the same to me, Sir." Perhaps Harry needs new glasses. Dumbledore is literally not even the same man.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Not as young as I used to be

So I am not as young as I used to be. But then again, no one is ever as young as they used to be. Hence I am currently sitting on a bag of ice. Oh dear. I recently returned to my childhood sport (tae kwon do). I am somewhat of a spectacle for three reasons. 1) I am an adult woman. 2) I am a black belt. 3) I am an American. Although I'm in a small town in Germany, the majority of participants are actually Russian. So now, in the midst of my learning Hoch Deutsch I get some genuine exposure to Russodeutsch. A couple of my new friends asked where I'm from. Answer: America (please do not be offended by this term. America is in the name of the country and there is no way in English to say United Statesen). Next question. "So are you American?" Answer, "uuuuh. yeah..." Third question. "So what is your native language?" By this point I'm thinking I must be misunderstanding the conversation seeing as it was taking place in German. One of the guys answered for me "American English". This is apparently a frightening prospect. Who knew? Anyway, back to the ice pack (which I have now traded out for a heating pad). Let's just say, it's a good thing I've had a week to recuperate, and at least I can walk now. Perhaps tonight I'll remember that I am, in fact getting up there. After all, my half birthday was on Saturday.

For anyone who does not understand the principle of half birthdays, please educate and reform yourself at once. This is a very important day in the year. For my half birthday I saw an Igel in the road. But it was only half of a gift from Mother Nature because by the time I got out he ran into a bush. Rude. Which reminds me. I had a fourth grade science teacher who hated the term "Mother Nature" and always told him that was not his mother's name. As many times as he said it, though, I could not tell you what her name actually was.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Getting down with my Mexican roots

The everyone was chatting in my German class and the man sitting next to me turned and kept saying, "Mexico?"Since some other people had just asked me about traveling I thought maybe he was asking me if I'd been there. After all, that made much more sense than the other interpretation (which is that he was asking if I was from Mexico). Maybe he's never seen a Mexican before. When he then changed his tune and asked "America?" the latter interpretation was confirmed. Today, it dawned on me that it may not have been as ludicrous as I originally thought. Not only that but it was entirely appropriate considering... IT'S CINCO DE MAYO! So, of course, he was just getting pumped for one of the best holidays of the year and he could sense how pumped I was for it. Now. Before I go any further, I am aware that Cinco de Mayo is actually only celebrated in one city in Mexico and is a bigger deal in the US. But I still cannot express my love for it. So, of course, today I made some dip for my chips and played my latin music. Sigh.

I also wonder where the idea of neckties came from? I'm not hating on them. But who said that men should tie a piece of fabric around their neck with a triangular or trapezoidal knot in order to be formal? Who decided on this current shape after all of the other forms that ties have gone through in the history of men's fashion?

I also got a free sticker today.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

I don't wanna be a chicken

I can't get over how much I love the city center accordionists. They just kill me. Yesterday was much like any other day. But as I passed these two old men with cheesy grins playing a duet I found it contagious. I probably looked utterly insane as I proceeded on my way. On my way out, however, my ears were greeted by a familiar tune... The Chicken Dance. They were at it again and goading a small boy on. A few wanderers had gathered to listen/watch and I have since found myself wondering if there are German lyrics to that tune. And if there are, are they equivalent to the English? Did the dance come first or the lyrics? And don't you dare ask if the chicken came before the egg because that's a ridiculous question. Obviously the chicken. I have my reasons.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Baby Wipes=Brilliance

Whilst I was romping through Ireland, I did not always find myself in the most sanitary of circumstances. So, of course, I bought a pack of baby wipes. I was down to two brands. "Which do I think will be most effective?" I asked. Suddenly I was drawn to a corner of one of the packages which said: wipe out waste. "Wow," I thought to myself. "I thought that was the purpose of a baby wipe, but way to be explicit. These must be super heavy duty to make such a claim about their waste removal." I then realized that this was a save-the-earth plea, not a quality guarantee. I bought them anyway. And I am still thanking my lucky stars that I did. I have used them to clean my feet after a barefoot stint in the newly warm weather. And just last night I noticed some schmutz on my door handle which has been there for a while and I never do anything about. I just grabbed a baby wipe and VIOLA! clean. So basically, whoever invented baby wipes is brilliant. I'm sorry to say that I don't think it was a man. Don't misunderstand, I recognize that there are many brilliant men in this world; but it is my experience that most inventions that are made by men and used by women (i.e. nylons, high heels, etc.) are inconvenient and uncomfortable.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

(nicht so) hurly-burly Hunde

So today I walked from the train station to my German class. Nothing particularly odd. There were many people in the city center. Still nothing odd. Someone dropped a lighter in front of me. Maybe not an everyday occurrence but still nothing to get my undies in a bundle over. A man who appeared--shall we say--a little more rough around the edges bent over to pick in up. Noch ist alles in ordnung. I continued to walk past but noticed there was a large boulder near the man. Just kidding it was a dog. If I could even call it that. I have NEVER seen a dog this big in my entire life. I did a double take and then could hardly take my eyes off it. I'm sure it was a very nice dog. It was just curled up in a ball, minding its own business. But seriously. Have you ever seen The Sandlot? This was "The Beast". Only bigger. And grey (or gray if you prefer). But seriously. On my way back to the train station after class it was still there and just as big as before.

On a completely unrelated note, I learned a new German word today: Lärm. Luckily it was explained to me because the dictionary was less than helpful. "Clamor; din" Ok. I guess I can get the idea, but really? Who uses those words? What really got me was the first two: "Hurly-burly; pother." Wow. I think that I generally use a decent degree of specificity in my word choice. Shamefully, I don't think I've ever used either one of those words in a sentence, or could even if the aforementioned dog were chasing me until I did it. New goal. Just in case.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Quite the mouthful...revisited

I finally tried Rotkohl (Red cabbage). I had been told by more than one American that this is one of the best German foods. It was indeed yummy, although intimidating since it had received so much hype. I also wonder why it is called red cabbage when it's actually purple. Very purple. Plum even. I though maybe it was similar to calling grapes red, but then I realized some grapes actually are red. Or at least maroon.

The real issue is in the Honig Gurken which I re-tried. I'm sorry, but it's still kinda yucky. In fact it was worse than I remembered. I managed to adjust to the Schorle, but I just don't think this one is going to win me over.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Culture Shock I've Lost Count

I've always had a thing for accents. Who doesn't? But, I'm sorry to say, this is a selective thing. It included the standard Australian, Scottish, British, etc. But I have recently discovered how much I love German accents too. And I don't mean just a "that's hot and I'm shallow" sort of way, but I mean in a very familiar and comforting way. I went to a convention over the weekend where there were only two other Americans there. As I talked to people (unfortunately in English. I'm still working on it), I realized how used to German accents I am. I kinda missed it when I was in  Ireland. Sigh. How tender.

I also tried a new beverage. Name: Kiba. Actually that's kinda just a guess at the spelling. My apologies to anyone who may be privy to the correct way. It's a combination of sour cherry nectar and banana juice. I thought that each of these beverages on their own were strange. When someone told me you mix them together, I was sure it was in an effort to trick the gullible American. It was not. But I'll tell you what it was--delicious. Although incredibly sweet.

Last but not least, and certainly not new, I was attempting to change the sheet and comforter cover thing on my bed. Does it have a name? I'm sure it does. Anyway, I can never quite decide whether the inventor of those things was genius or sick in the head. They are so comfy and convenient to wash. But how the heck do you get those on? I thought I had it. Then I realized it was wrong (as in the rectangularity was perpendicular rather than fitting like a glove). So I took it out and tried it again. I knocked over a picture frame and broke out in a sweat in the process, but I slept under a clean comforter that night.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Tale as old as time.

I know, I know. I have already posted a story similar to this, but I just thought I'd drive it home. So, I just got back from a wee holiday in Ireland. It is a beautiful country (I know I said that about Switzerland, but it's beautiful in a different way) and I had adventures galore. I noticed that whenever I'd try to buy a ticket to enter an attraction or whatnot they'd assume I was a student. Since I don't have valid student ID I simply corrected them and went on my merry way, all along assuming that they must think I'm in college. But toward the end of my trip I was in a gift shop and an older man was trying to get me to buy a ring (he was apparently a provider for the shop). Of course conversation turned to getting a Guinness during my stay, and the man said that I, of course, wouldn't be drinking since I'm too young. I paused for a second, thinking to myself, "Well, I'm not going to drink, but it has nothing to do with my age. What is the drinking age around here anyway?" And then I knew I needed to drop the big question: "How old do you think I am?" The response: "I'd say... 15." Gasp. He must be joking. Trying to make me feel better? I told him my actual age and that I already have a bachelor's degree. He was just as shocked with the truth as I was with the guess. He even tried to argue with me. I thought I was going to have to whip out some identification. We were able to reroute the conversation and I left the store suddenly suspicious of everyone who had tried to sell me a student ticket. So the next time that happened I kindly asked the old man and lady how old they thought I was. They shied away from the question, so I assured them that I wouldn't be offended considering the last man thought I was 15. She said, "Oh no. I'd give you at least 16 or 17." Exhale. At least that's getting more out of the awkward gawky stage... 

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Hamburgers and...what-have-you

I'm sure you've been staying up late at night wondering if I'm still alive and kicking. Don't y'all worry your pretty little heads. I have been keeping plenty busy, and it's only going to get better in the coming weeks. A few days ago I took a little adventure to Hamburg (actually known for their fish, not their burgers) with a friend. It was glorious. I successfully fooled a minimum of three people into thinking that I speak German, so that right there is already a success in my book. But I would say that the real highlight came from another incident in which I not only admitted to, but thanked my lucky stars for my lack of German.
So, my friend and I were just wandering, exploring and what-have-you, and stopped to look at the cute little river with the oh-so-presh buildings surrounding. Pause. There's something else you have to know about Hamburg. It has more rich people than hamburgers. They are seriously walking high-society billboards. Unpause. So there we were, and my friend was just saying how lovely the people there are, when all of a sudden we were approached by a dinosaur. She was smaller than me but she got right in my face and started German-ing to me. I tried to do a look back over my shoulder for some support, or at least a hint as to what she's saying and then she said, "Verstehest du kein Deutsch?" *rich, snappy, old lady voice* which I quickly confirmed. She tsk-ed a little then reached behind me and I realized that my purse was open. Thought running through my head: "Aaaaah! She's going to pickpocket me. Right in front of my face. That's bold. Ok. Keep your eyes on the goods." Instead she grabbed the back of my jacket (which, by the way is a super cute red trench coat, and I was totally rocking it). Next thought running through my mind: "OMGN DoI have toilet paper hanging from the bottom of my coat?! How did that get there? How long has it been there? How embarrassing!" But alas, wrong again. Instead she gestures wildly at the X-stitching which I accidentally left in the slit, and continues to instruct me in German. I nodded fiercely and she walked back to her friend who had been waiting and went on her merry way. All in a day's work for the class patrol. Job well done.
The questions were whirring around in my head.
1. How did she see that when I wasn't even moving?
2. How did she see that with here eyes being so old?
3. Why was she looking at my bum?
4. Is this kind of intervention commonplace or am I just that special/outlandish?
...just to name a few...

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Happy Pi Day! (rounding up...)

I don't even know where to begin. I have been ashamed of myself lately for my lack of holiday spirit, and yesterday was, unfortunately, no exception. In case you too missed the memo, it was Pi day. Why, you might ask, would this be such a significant holiday? Well first I should probably clarify what it even is. Since pi is 3.14... on March (3) 14 one is to eat pie in mass quantities. Obviously. Now. I don't particularly lust after pie very often, nor do I have the slightest affinity for mathematics of virtually any kind. However, who can be so much of a Scrooge as to deny such a naturally occurring celebration of... round things. At least that's what I like to use it for. The profound and personal nature of this special day dates far back into my childhood--well maybe when I was a teenagehood--and such fond memories cannot be simply tossed out with the spring cleaning. So thankfully, since I am a tad bit out of my element, I was reminded of the date yesterday and immediately vowed to correct my oversight (which I promptly forgot). I was, however, brought to a gross realization of the twisted nature of this country (I am sorry to say it). THEY REVERSE THE DATE! So yesterday was actually 14.3, and 3.14 does not, in fact, exist. Oh dear. I was really liking it here, but this one might take some time for me to adjust to. I simply do not understand how a people could be haters of sugary, filled, pastries--especially a people who eat so much bread. People of Germany, and the world, please acknowledge Pi day as the gift it is to those who are willing to take a moment to slow down and enjoy the simple and tasty things in life. And anything else you wish to include. That's how I do it.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

I'm just saying

Today I went on my usual city stroll. My ears were immediately greeted by the usual accordion man. It would seem much like any other day. But today I was hung up on something that had upset me. As I was lost deep in thought, somehow I was brought to reality by a man who pulled up near me on a bicycle. He stopped at a garbage bin, skillfully pulled out a flashlight and stick, dug for his treasure, and went on his way. Empty handed. I watched him ride off with a few scanty belongings in the basket on the back and a soiled and stained bag hanging off the handle bar. I was suddenly filled with disgust. It was toward myself and the fact that I had the nerve to be upset about anything in my life right now. And I kept walking. Of course to buy more clothes even though I have clean ones to wear every day. Do you know what the sickest part was? Not even an hour had passed before I found myself exploring beyond that same door that I had gotten lost behind before.

I'm just saying.

Confession. In English.

Oh dear. It's confession day. I have become one of "those people". So I was shopping (of course) and have been easing into using the dressing rooms (I was afraid they would be the supervised kind that I'd have to ask to be let into). So I was feeling pretty good about myself. I had successfully gone through three dressing room people. Basically I was feeling invincible. German? Piece of cake. Then I got to the cash register (which I had also worked up to and is normally not a problem) and a horrible thing happened. The woman said something to me other than the price and asking whether I want I receipt. I tried to stay calm and coolly say "Bitte?" as if I just didn't hear her the first time. But I still had no idea what she was asking me. Then, of all times that I needed it to, the "I'm just an American and am terrified of the fact that you're speaking German to me. Please speak English" look didn't work! I know, I know. I shouldn't have wanted her to speak English. Shame on me. But really. So I did what any immigrant would do: nod and say "ja". I'm pretty sure she asked if I had tried it on to make sure it was the right size. But whether that's right or not, she gave me the bag and I got the heck out of there. And here I am now- a yes-saying, head nodder.

Anyway, to continue with the evening, I went to a mall and as I ascended the escalator, I was greeted by two shirtless men in lifeguard shorts. Oh my. Then, that magic moment came. They said "Hey. What's up!" And in that magic moment I couldn't care less that they were half naked. They could be wearing nightgowns. But they were going to speak English to me! Re-shame on me. Then they handed me a flier for some event and proceeded in German to tell me to come. Then I remembered. The new Hollister had just opened. Or maybe it was about to open and that's what the fliers were for... hm... that would make more sense. Either way, I knew they worked for Hollister and actually remembered hearing that in the interview applicants had to say "welcome to the pier" apparently to judge the convincingness of their American accent. However, the most prominent thought in my mind was how ironic it is that they're trying to be American, however, I'm quite certain that employees cannot be half naked in the mall in the US. Posters: yes. Live people: no. No shirt, no shoes, no service? Anyone?

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Dear j walkers...

I would like to say something. It is regarding stupidity. This is one thing which I am certain is universal. The other day I was driving in the city at night and noticed a figure in the middle of a busy street--as in, on the dotted line. In HEELS. What? Ok ok. I have had my fair share of  j walking indiscretions (for those of you who are unfamiliar with this term, it means crossing where there is no crosswalk). In the words of a good friend: If I had a penny for every time I (insert "j walked" here), I would be a rich woman. However, to quote the commercial for "Smart Guy" (Who remembers that show? The one with Tahj Mowry...) "There's a fine line between genius and insanity, and you're flirtin' with it." So it goes with this minor illegality (which I'm not actually sure is illegal in this country). But whether it's legal or not is neither here nor there as far as tonight is concerned. There is a technique-a finesse, if you will-and a certain degree of common sense and self-preservation. So, to get back to the story, as I was out driving tonight I noticed someone crossing marginally dangerously in front of me, but I was far enough to only give a disapproving tsk tsk to myself and proceed with caution. Later in my drive, however, there was another. She was, let's just say, a little too close for comfort and not exactly wearing glow-in-the-dark pants. As I approached, trying to decide what degree of ridicule she deserved, my answer came. She stepped back onto the street, keeping one foot on the curb and teetering. And there were her friends standing on the sidewalk all thinking this flirting with the line was funny as I drew closer and then passed, along with the few cars behind me. I have since wondered whether laying on the horn would have scared her off, scared her into falling completely into the road (the antithesis of the desired result) or simply encouraged them all. I will probably never know. I leave you with only one thought:

Dear Teenagers,
Please use your head for something other than piercings and growing hair.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Oh and Happy Leap Day!

Germany has survived me for a month...

Well, to celebrate the fact that I have made it a month, I gave Germany a little break from me and took probably my longest road trip ever--to Switzerland. Ok ok it's only about 7 hours, but let's just say I haven't been much of a road tripper in the past. And I not only survived, but thrived (throve?). So now I'm in Switzerland, and it is a beautiful country (not that Germany isn't). My pictures don't really do it justice, so I guess you'll just have to go for yourself. But, if you will, let us return to the road tripping portion. Being... as old as I am... I have been well trained in the art of "speak now or forever hold... it." So, natürlich, when confronted with a gas station, I did what any American would do--seize the day. However, I was presented with a little surprise or two. First off, I was charged (like, money) to get through the turnstile. Okaaaaaay. I then received a 50 cent voucher which apparently can be used many places. All I could think of was Urinetown. Don't you worry, though; things got better. Have you ever been to the Chicago airport? This used to be my favorite airport because it had a plastic cover which rotated to be clean after every use. Well, the toilet pictured below tops it.

After flushing, the ENTIRE SEAT rotates and that magical blue rectangle comes out and sanitizes the entire surface. Fellow Americans: Say what you will about Europeans not spending exorbitant amounts on teeth whitening. This looks like money much better spent if you ask me.


I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

Culture Shock 3

I was recently asked how the culture shock was going. I responded that the culture isn't too different so it hasn't been bad. Then I realized that culture shock may be a bit more extensive than I thought.

For example, who knew that my presence would cause others to go into culture shock? I was in my German class and we were doing an activity which required me to write something and the girl I was talking to exclaimed "Das ist dein linkse arm! Schwer! Seeeeeeeehr schwer!" Let's just say, my left-handedness was quite the anomaly.

I also think that my squealing, clapping, and happy-dancing reaction may have been slightly stranger in this country. But seriously: Me. Volleyball. Spike. Point. First time in my life! What else was I to do?

On the other hand, I was shocked to learn that the "good-game slap" among men (you know the one I mean) is not an American thing. It's apparently just a guy thing.

With Valentine's day earlier this week, of course there was culture shock galore. I had been forewarned that this is not so much a German thing, so I prepared myself likewise. However, I was pleasantly surprised. I was greeted by a group Valentine's dinner complete with heart confetti. There I was asked where Valentine's day comes from to which I gave the standard answer of "The greeting card companies." The facial response was... unforgettable to say the least.

I also had a surprise Valentine this year who even gave me a rose. I know I said no younger guys, but he was so excited about the "Blumen!" I will make an exception in this case.

I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.