Friday Night in Berlin

Ryan is gone again on business and I've been spending more time with my classmates, which has been nice. Yesterday Carmen and I spent a few hours in a cafe and then drove a saleslady crazy trying on all the shoes in a local boutique. Today she and April wanted to go out for a beer and told me they'd call "around 4:00" which in Spanish time means somewhere between 6:30 and 8:00.

At 7:30 I didn't feel like waiting around the house anymore so I decided to see a movie. The main English-version movie theater in Berlin is in glamorous Potsdamer Platz. I practiced my supermodel walk through the glittery plaza.

I saw "Slumdog Millionaire." I was probably the last English-speaking person on the planet to see this movie, but if you haven't seen it, I'd recommend it. Its very intense, and as my German teacher would say "brutal", but it's beautifully done. The conditions of the slums in this film were absolutely heart-wrenching. I left the theater awash with guilt that my own comfortable existence could coincide unknowingly with such poverty and despair.

As I climbed aboard the U-Bahn, I passed a gangly young man dead asleep on a bench with a beer bottle in one hand and a huge book in the other. The American in me was shocked and passed by quickly. I climbed on the waiting train and watched him. Everyone else walked past, shaking their heads, some glaring at the boy. Then one man tapped him on the knee and pointed toward the idling train. The boy gathered himself and bumbled on board. He sat down between a trio of 18-year old girls making nervous faces and disgusted older man. Of course, upon sitting he immediately fell asleep, and started leaning dangerously close to one of the girls, who was eating a fruit cup. Others got up and moved away from him.

My time in England witnessed a lot of drunks. Its not unusual to see someone passed out in their own vomit in the middle of the sidewalk. But the English aren't phased, and quite used to picking each other up and putting them on the right bus.

I knew this guy was going to sleep through his station. And to be honest, I've been that drunk once or twice (never alone mind you, but anyway). So I sat down across from him and mustered my best German. I tapped him on the knee and said "You must wake up. What is your station?" I repeated myself once more and he muttered "Kottbusser Tor. You tell me when it's Kottbusser Tor. Danke." Then fell asleep again. He dropped his massive book. It was Star Trek. He started leaning again toward the young girl, and we all started laughing. Everyone in the car was now watching him, slumping to the side with a large string of drool out of his mouth. Two less drunk guys got on the train and were making fun of him, trying to impress the girls. At this point I thought "why see a movie, I can get all the entertainment of Berlin just riding the U-1."

At Kottbusser Tor I shook him awake and told him to go "schnell! Straight home, no more drinking!" He caught the eyes of the guys making fun of him, and for a minute I thought they would fight. But he lumbered off the train. The doors closed and we all laughed again. Then he banged on the window. I thought he was mad at the other boys, but instead he flashed a big smile and waved to me. The man sitting next to me said something to the effect of "Some boyfriend you have." And I couldn't answer, I was giggling too much.

So, today's German will be "blau sein." Literally, "to be blue" but it actually means drunk. For example "Ich bin nicht blau. Du, du bist blau!"

Silly Days for Serious People

In Germany "silly" is synonymous with "stupid" and people maintain dignity at all times. So you can imagine my surprise when we were invited to a Karneval party on Saturday night and met with a night of Germans gone wild.

We had planned to meet up with our friends Simon & Sarah. They decided we must go to a Karneval party. With only an hour or so's notice we scoured the closet and came up with a costume of "American Tourists." We donned our most athletic sneakers, white tube socks, money belts on top of our clothes, sunglasses, and Obama pins. Ryan tucked in a polo shirt and I wore a scarf proclaiming "Paris, France." We looked pretty dumb and I really hoped that we weren't having a prank pulled on us.

But when we got to the party people were dressed much weirder than us, wearing bizarre hats shaped like cakes, flower pots, etc. Faces were painted green, or wearing Elton John-like sunglasses. Some people were dressed like cowboys, but most costumes weren't so literal. And unlike Halloween there weren't any sexy costumes.

The music was very loud and very oompa-pa. Ryan and I didn't know how to dance it; it was more like marching music. But everyone else was going crazy! Simon explained to us that this is the once a year when Germans can dance without worrying about looking undignified. Most of the songs were traditional Karneval songs from Köln (Cologne) and in a very thick dialect. The DJ did play "Country Roads" and "Summer of '69." I was excited to hear a song I knew, and some drunk old business man did a weird dance with me. The dance basically consisted of slow-motion high-fiving. Then the DJ got really excited and took off his pants. His shirt was past his bum, thankfully, because he wasn't wearing any underwear.

Later on we were forcibly abducted into a conga line, I drank too much, and on the way out of the bathroom Sarah and I were hit on by some guys who said they didn't care that we are married. Sarah asked if they would buy drinks for our husbands too, and I almost thought it would work. It was too much for one night, and when I woke up the next morning I decided it was good that Lent started soon.

But one more thing. They played a funny song called "20 Centimeter" which is about, um, male anatomical bragging. Its very catching, and here's a link if you dare. Email me if you want a translation.

Hallelujah

The great Strange Financial Crisis of 2009 has finally been resolved. It turns out the problem was someone dumb in the HR department, not the bank. In the meantime, beer, groceries, washing machine, and IKEA. Oh yes.

Brussels Smells Like....

Just got back from our trip to Brussels. I sort of expected the capital city of the European Union to be at least a little impressive. Its not that bad, don't get me wrong, but really a downer compared to other European capitals. Even former Warsaw Pact Budapest was more posh. Heide told us upon return "Yeah, its the trash bin of Europe."

We did have a nice time, and it was wonderful to see all of Ryan's classmates from the past year. His Master's Thesis presentation went well and his post-presentation questions weren't too difficult. It wasn't a bad city to host this sort of event seeing as there isn't much sight seeing to do, but thousands of beers to try. And try we did! The Guiness World Record holder for bar with the most beers is Delirium in old Brussels. They even had beers for me who hates beer! The key word for girlie drinkers is "Framboise." Its French for raspberry and that's what it tastes like. We also tried all the notorious foods: mussels, french fries with mayonnaise, and the best waffles I've ever eaten. (It doesn't hurt that they're covered in melted chocolate)

But other than beer and a few nice buildings in the center, Brussels is not very impressive. The metro is really confusing and stinky, and the city is very dirty. The above photo is of the famous Mannekin-Pis statue, which I think is a very appropriate mascot for this town!

Election Night 2008

The Dems Abroad party was unexpectedly sold out last week, leaving Ryan and I floundering for plans. Everyone had blown us off for Halloween, I was not spending Election Night at home! With a bit of searching we found a bash at American-owned bar called "Die Registratur." There was a myriad of excited people: Brits, Yanks, Germans, and some crazy guy with an Obama balloon taped to a stick with leaves on it. No McCain fans to be found.

The bar itself was pretty cool, a converted auditorium of a Catholic girls school, decorated in the cheesiest bunting and miniature flags. Miller, popcorn, and hot dogs were on special. Ryan tried the Miller but realized once you go German you don't go back. We crammed into a booth with a bunch of others and had some interesting conversations. I met a Ghanian guy who went to school in Michigan for 6 years so as to avoid a return to Ghana. He was sitting with a bunch of girls who invaded and kept squishing us.

Our friend,Gwendolyn, brought her friends, a group of mysterious 20-somethings on a "permanent business trip". They're working for some law firm and were on and off their Blackberries buying beers on expense accounts all night. Except for one who was raging drunk, hit on Ryan, and when Ryan left starting talking to his friends really loudly about my "ta tas." I was miffed, but let it go. His friends were very apologetic and he had clearly drank away the last of his judgment.

He did get drunker and funnier as the night went on. At one point he was waving an American flag around saying "Jesus" not in a swearing way, but rather as a question, which apparently offended the Ghanian guy who threatened to take him outside. But drunk man's friends told the Ghanian that this was a bad idea, their friend was used to getting drunk and laying guys out cold. So he backed off.

While the drunks and political conversation was interesting, in the background they were playing CNN international. If you haven't been out of the country much you've probably never seen this version of CNN. Its what they play around the world to make it look like Americans care about international news, when we actually want celebrity rumors. Anyway, the commercials on this channel are strictly intended for millionaires "Invest in Poland!" "India: Business Central." etc.

Anyway, CNN international played us lots of clips of the global reaction to the election. I don't know if they play these on regular CNN, for the reasons I've listed above. However, they were covering big fancy consulate parties with lots of swank. Where was our coverage? I guess they're not interested in drunk Germans. But they weren't overstating international interest. Everyone I know has asked me many times about the election, electoral votes, the congress, etc.

But the best thing about this year's coverage was definitely the HOLOGRAM LADY. WTF? Pop-up congress building and hologram lady. This is not the way to make the election more exciting, CNN. In addition to this bizarre technology they touted weird vertical bar graphs that you couldn't read and TWO teams of people pretending to type on laptops.

Die Registratur had the bright idea to play viral videos during the dull parts of election coverage, but unfortunately they only had political rap. I should've been the one to make this list, I do watch You Tube obsessively. There wasn't even a "La Piquena Sarah Palin."

Because of the 6 hour time difference between Germany and the East Coast, things startled dwindling before we got our election results. We stayed for the frank discussion "McCain would have to win the West Coast to get enough votes at this point." But Gwen's mysterious business friends left, along with the Ghanian, his girlfriends, and our Germans. Drunky passed out on a sofa with no shoes on, and Ryan and I decided to quit around 4 am. As we arrived at our train station in Pasing, a TV in Yorma's cafe was showing the electoral tally for Obama over 300.

It still feels like a dream.

Extras:
-After another drunk guy hit on me, we decided I should change the "Yes We Can" button on my shirt to "No You Can't."
-apparently Anderson Cooper is a gay icon. Who knew?

Oktoberfest, part 1

After much schedule-jangling, we made it to Oktoberfest last Wednesday night. Our friend, Johannes, advised us on how to beat the difficult reservation system. For those of you who are unfamiliar, most of the seats in the giant "tents" (which are actually huge barn-like buildings) are booked by tour groups and businesses. You can't make a reservation unless you have 8 or more people and there's a 30 Euro per person minimum for most places. BUT, you can look online at specific reservation times and hit the tents 15 minutes after the reservation and often snag an empty spots.

Because of his insatiable desire to eat all God's creatures, Ryan wanted to hit the Ochsenbraterai, a tent run by Spaten (one of the 6 official Munich beers, the only ones allowed at Oktoberfest) which roasts over 100 whole oxen each year. We had a more chill experience than most, seeing as we went as a couple and ate outside. I didn't dance on the table nor was I vomited on like many others; but we still had a nice time, some good oxen, and enjoyed joking with some German guys at our table.

A couple of liters later, I was a little starry-eyed. We took a walk around the grounds to look at the many rides and other tents. Ryan bought me a giant heart-shaped gingerbread cookie that are so famous in Munich, and it was tasty. The atmosphere at the Wiesn is pure fun and friendliness, and the beer sure helps. (Although one of our table-mates called Spaten "piss", Ryan has tried them all and can't tell the difference.) It was expensive (about 8 euros a liter), but a very fun night.

Thoughts on the German Ways

We have been in Deutschland almost 3 weeks, and are getting used to a number of things, including eating lots of sausage and ground beef. We are accustomed to hearing German all day, and to crazy German football announcers every night. We are even getting used to the honking cars after the game each night.

But what I think is most interesting are the unspoken manner of which people of different countries conduct themselves. In the UK, at least where we lived, it was all pretty in-your-face. You might walk down the street and have a very personal conversation with an old lady, then be hollered at by some teens outside a convenience store. Not to mention the predilection for drunken tom-foolery.

But Germany is entirely different. The people are quieter, though I have gotten occasional remarks in the elevator or in the grocery que. People prize their dignity. In church on Sunday the pastor was talking about our humanity and human rights and he talked about the right of each person to have dignity. Its interesting how cultures define rights so differently. In the US its "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Which doesn't necessarily lend itself to dignity, especially when they're pursuing that happiness on reality TV. Basically, get a bunch of Americans together and sooner or later we'll all start acting like idiots. And no offense to my English friends, but when drinking they seem to chuck away dignity with both hands.

Our French friend Ludo who stayed with us last week introduced us to his Bavarian friend, Flo. We had some good laughs with Flo, but it was mostly us being silly. He was very friendly, but I do get the feeling that we are still at arms-length. The Germans we have encountered in bars don't even act that goofy, minus the ever-present drinking songs. Maybe it is their way to be more introverted. I'll be investigating...

Weekly Parade

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. Updates abound: I have FINALLY booked some work, at least temporarily. So I am working, at least next week, and should net about 200 quid.

But onto more interesting things. I've been meaning to write for sometime about a weekly phenomenon I've witnessed in Newcastle. Every weekend, Ryan and I will hit the downtown for a movie, a pub, or a poker game. We head for the bus around midnight (we are old married people after all), and watch Newcastle's fine Drunk Parade.

Newcastle has two large universities in its downtown area and every student is out on the weekend. The girls are clad in 6" heels and dresses that barely cover their cootches, and these difficult to maintain outfits become worse with drink and Newcastle's crazy strong wind.

Last Saturday night, there were 3 girls at the bus stop getting chatted up by some guys. One was obviously on the verge of blacking out, and so her friends decided to ditch the bus stop and get them a taxi. They propped up super drunk and the three of them teetered down the street on their high high heels, when the drunk girl stopped, lifted up the back of her dress and proceeded to pick her thong out of her behind, flashing the whole bus stop in the process. Sexy!

And previous to that, we were waiting at the bus stop on a Wednesday night, freezing our asses off, when we saw a man WEARING a cafe chair on his back. It was kind of looped over his shoulder... I couldn't see if it was strapped to him, but it was solidly on his back. Anyway, he stumbled down the street to an ATM and fished his bank card out of his back pocket, then dropped it on the ground. The next 10 minutes was spent leaning over, loosing his balance, stumbling forward, standing upright, then reaching again for the bank card. All the while still carrying a chair on his back.

P.S. have recently learned that Koreans have potato salad, my peace plan continues to spread....

What do you do with a drunken Finn?

Friday night Ryan and I were invited to play Beer-tionary (aka alcoholic Pictionary) with some guys from the Master's course. So, after a quick dinner we bundled up and headed over to the only grocery store open after 5pm, Sainsbury's, to pick up some refreshments. The whole store was filled with college-aged people loading up their backpacks, and friends' backpacks with cheap beer.

After this brief foray, we meandered over to a campus apartment complex's common room. A group of semi-intoxicated international masters' students had already assembled. Most of these fellas are not native English speakers, so as you can imagine, simply explaining Pictionary's rules was pretty interesting. Not to mention, Fernando, a guy from the Canary Islands, is a total cheater. Worse than me, seriously. Anyway, after the first round my team was doing pretty well, and I managed to guess "the Earth" almost instantly. The second this happened, Stefan, my French friend, yelled "you shit!" I was a little taken aback, but I figured "maybe this is some cultural thing." HOWEVER, he continued to shout "you shit! You shitted!" until another French guy whispered something into his ear, at which Stefan turned bright red and they both spent the next few minutes trying to pronounce the word "cheat." "Shhchhiiiiit, Shhhcchhhiiii-eeeet." It was pretty hilarious.

After some decisive cheating on Fernando's part, our team was victorious, and people began mingling and hanging out, mostly discussing lab blah blah blah. Then a very fancily dressed Asian lady approached me and began asking me a lot of questions. This would be a fairly normal situation, but what struck me about this lady was her perfectly stenciled eye-makeup, blank expression, and automated-sounding voice, which explained that she "come from outer space." I have to say I was a little creeped out. After a moment, a guy I sort of recognized came over and sat next to me. I was glad to have another person to converse with, and I soon realized this guy was fall-down drunk. It was pretty amusing because he was drunk enough to be kind of unaware of his own body, but at the same time, thinking everything he is doing is very cool.

His speech slurred out slowly, and he was hitting on me, but I explained that I was married, and gestured over to Ryan. He must know Ryan, right? He seemed to take the hint and asked if we were going to watch the Rugby World Cup on Saturday. I said, yes we are. He suggested we watch it together, and I figured sure. So I gave him our number. In a few minutes, I was back over with Ryan and I said "Your Finnish friend wants to watch rugby tomorrow night, so I gave him our number." Ryan says "Who?" "That guy from Finland...over there." I pointed to the Finn, who gave me a weird winking face. Ryan said "I don't know who that guy is...you gave him our number?" "Well, I thought he was in your program!"

I spent the rest of the evening avoiding this Finnish guy, and also the robot lady. It mostly worked, minus when I was helping clean up Pictionary and Finnish guy made a swipe at my ass. Man, there's nothing more attractive than a desperate and super drunk guy who thinks he's really special.

We slept in on Saturday and occasionally made anxious checks of the cell phone, but our drunk Finn, for some reason, did not call. I don't know whether to feel hurt, rejected, or what. You just can't trust those alcoholic Finns.