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'.