Our Collective sense of Geography

Germans don't know where Michigan is. But I won't criticize; could an American name a single state in Germany? Maybe Bavaria at the most.

But what do Americans and Germans know about their own states? Sadly also not much. Two anecdotes:

In my language school in Germany we learned well that there are 16 states (Bundesländer) in Germany. I can even name them all. I was at a wedding and mentioned this number to a German at some point. He countered, ''no, there are only 15.'' We argued fervently until I proved him wrong by naming them all. I was astounded--who doesn't know how many states are in his own country??

Well, besides the German journalist I met at this wedding, a certain US Soldier based in Heidelberg also had faulty knowledge of his own country. My friend Alicia overheard this US soldier raving to a tourist about Hawaii: our most beautiful territory, definitely worth a visit. Alicia corrected him, ''Acutally it's a state.''
''Well, it's not on the map, so it's not really a state, it's more like a territory, like Guam or the Virgin Islands,'' he countered.
Alicia: incredulous look.
Soldier conceded: ''Ok, I guess you could say it's one of the 52 States...''

Where are you from?

'Where are you from?''

To tell people that I'm from the United States is a little vague. They invariably ask ''which state?'' Germans aren't terribly familiar with the States, with a few exceptions: New York, California, Texas, Florida. The bigger problem is that I'm from two states, California and Michigan, and this turns out to be a hard concept for Germans to grasp.

A typical German does not move in his childhood. A typical German probably goes to Univerity in his hometown as well, or at least very close by. He may even live at home. I meet graduate students in Cologne who grew up here, studied here, and are now writing their dissertations here. This sort of homebodiness simply does not exist among academics in America.

I answer the question honestly: I'm from California and Michigan.

Next question: Where is Michigan? After we've established roughly that Michigan is somewhere in the North, neighbors Canada, has bad weather, and is near those big lakes, I launch into an uneccesary explanation of my childhood, my statehood, and my sense of belonging.

I was born in... I moved to... My parents live in... I studied in... I will start grad school in... I went to high school in... My extended family lives in...

Since Michigan means absolutely nothing to your average European, they then ask, ''Where in California?'' Usually I take the easy route and say simply: San Francisco. This isn't exactly true, but nobody in Germany has ever heard of the four towns in California I've actually lived in (five, if Berkeley and Oakland are counted separately).

I don't really have it so bad. I met an American who grew up as an Army brat, living in over 15 States in his life thus far. To an American he can say, ''I was an Army brat, I moved a lot.'' To a German this most likely won't make any sense; to a German he simply answers: Phillidelphia.

How to blow your nose in Poland

After traveling through Poland, what I found to be the hardest was blowing my nose. Poland has a very strange version of napkins, with no absorption qualities whatsoever. They more resemble small squares of wax-paper. Blowing your nose is fun; the snot slides down the wax-paper, all over your hands, your sleeves, falls onto your plate, into your food, onto the tablecloth. The only clean thing in the end is the ''napkin'', whose extra wax protection has ensured that it's still absolutely spotless after blowing your nose with it.

Eastern Europe

Here's where the moderate adventures begin. I'm in Poland for 10 days with my grandmother. We've had money stolen, been on trains that were over 2 hours behind schedule, had a bus break down while we were on it, encountered more non-english speakers than we could shake sticks at, and eaten good food for about 50 cents. The best story so far though, was pretty unadventurous, so I think it fits in here well.

As mentioned, we had some money stolen. It was stolen, in fact, while we were on the tardy train. Luckily it wasn't too much, only 200 zl, which is about 50 euros, or 65 dollars. But it was enough to be depressed about. In addition, our destination that day, Wroclaw, turned out to be dirty, unexciting, under-construction, cold, ugly, unfriendly... I could go on. We dragged ourselves to an unexciting but clean hostel. We were depressed. More than depressed. After a 6 hour train ride, we were were 65 dollars poorer and in a nothing of a city with no desire to step out onto the cold doorstep and find its better side.

I suggested a beer. And why stop at a beer, let's eat out at the fanciest restaurant this city has to offer. It doesn't sound logical, but some alcohol and a splurge was what we needed. We had to stop at a beer because the fanciest restaurant was all booked. But things were already looking up. The beer was good, and we had a lunch reservation for the next day at JaDka, the creme de la creme of polish cooking.

The next day we spent a cold morning exploring polish churches amongst the sunday masses. Poland is an extremely catholic place, but that's another story. We finally escaped the cold for the warmth of JaDka. It started exquisitely: a great chilean wine, good bread. Juliette's first course was a bolletus (a fancy mushroom) soup and absolutely superb. In between courses we were served lemon gelato with prosecco. Second courses were also to die for. I had the most fabulous salad imaginable. Spectacularly fresh flavorful greens: butter lettuce and arugula. The lemon dressing was accented with drizzles of balsamic so good it was practically syrup. On the side were crostinis with warm goat cheese and herbs. It sounds standard, but was far from it. Juliette's dish included some potatoe-lentil-marjoram pancakes. She offered me one. Ummm... good.. yum... crunch cruch. click click. I had something hard in my mouth. I pulled it out. Glass or a stone or something. No big deal really, but I thought we should tell the waiter.

Naturally he apologized profusely. After a quick kitchen consultation he offered us the entire meal free. We tried to refuse. I was really worried he would think we'd done it intentionally. Then Juliette found another one in her pancake 10 mintues later! He offered us free dessert as well, but we flatly refused. We were stuffed anyways. In the end, we couldn't argue. We got the whole thing for free, which came to about, yes, 200 zl, or 65 dollars.

The sun didn't actually come out after the meal, but it felt like it did. We skipped a little bit as we walked along the river afterwards, carrying tulips that we'd also been given as consolation. Our instinct to go out was right. And the 200 stolen zlotys weren't stolen afterall, but somehow spent on a good meal, even if somewhat indirectly :-)

Claudia: my bike

This is about my bike I bought back in August.

There is a very cool thing here called the used- bicycle-market that happens twice a month. It is surprisingly unsketchy. A bunch of people show up with bikes to sell, pay a small amount to show them, and other people come and buy. The prices were really reasonable, and there was a little repair shop set up, and well as accessories, etc. for sale. All the sellers were all really knowledgable and good to talk to.

I had bought what I though was the perfect bike. Claudia. Smooth silver beauty. Rode like a well-greased charm. And then I broke her.

I rode my bike home and decided to remove the kickstand in my basement where I stored my bike. How uncool is a kickstand? So I went to work. I was unscrewing something, when I heard and felt an awful SNAP! The derailer had painfully trapped my finger by some spring action. It hurt. I tried to pull it out. I couldn't get my finger free, nor could I reverse the spring action. Disaster scenarios started racing through my head; I sat there on the verge of tears wondering if I was going to have to wait for someone to come downstairs into the cellar and rescue me. That, or drag my bike up the stairs, with my finger attached. My finger was turning visibly blue. After what felt like 15 minutes, but was probably only two, some ouchy struggling loosened it and I could squeeze it out.

I had proved that I didn't know how to properly release the derailer. Unfortunately, after getting my finger out, I had no more success trying to get it back on. And now the gears no longer worked, and the stupid kickstand was still attached.

I got over it, hopped back on the bike and went back to the market in my easiest gear, the only one which was still working. The Koelner was happy to see me, since I'd left my cell phone there as security deposit during the test ride, and forgotten to pick it back up. I hadn't missed my cell phone at all, but was glad to have it. I lied and said the bike had made a funny noise on the way home. He kindly fixed it for, but looked a little puzzled at how it got in that condition. It didn't go back to perfect, but I didn't have the heart to complain, knowing I was responsible.

Well, the bike no longer rides like a charm; I have only very limited use of the middle ring. But at least I didn't starve to death in the basement, bound as if by ball and chain to my Claudia.

More free alcohol on campus

I was leaving the Mensa (cafeteria) and I saw some girls drinking some green alcoholic drink. Wierd, I thought. A little early to be celebrating, in more ways than one. First, it was noon. Second, there are still two weeks left of semester. As I walked down the dirt path I noticed more and more students drinking the same thing: a distinctively nuclear green drink, clearly containing alcohol. It was also freezing cold outside, and the idea of a nice cold drink didn't quite do it for me. More students. More. I got to the main plaza and it appeared that every student there was drinking green stuff. More than a thousand students indulging at midday. I solved the riddle when I saw three little VW bugs, trunks open, stuffed to the brim with green stuff. A promotion of a new drink, of course.

I should be used to it by now, but free alcohol on campus continues to astound me.

This new brand of fruity beer thingies just hit the market. Beer with additives, including dragon fruit flavoring*. They can't be called beer, since that woud go against the beer purity laws put into place hundreds of years ago in Germany (one of the only laws to survive all German governments, including the Third Reich). The common name for them would be alko-pops, which always sounds to me like something alcoholic to feed your baby. That name, however, implies some sort of hard alcohol too, like Smirnoff Ice or something. So they don't have a name, and they don't have a market yet. For the past two weeks young energetic students with logoed jackets have been passing them out on the campus main drag. Yes, free alcohol for students. Once again it seems to be taken for granted that alcohol and studying seem to go together. American universities also know this well, but I usually think of alcohol as a nighttime pasttime, which doesn't intrude on daytime studying activities.

I admit, I took some. I tried it. I don't recommend it.

*Dragon fruits are native to South East Asian. Beautiful fuschia plants, they are much prettier to look at than to taste. They are rather bland actually.

Glühwein

This is about Christmas in Germany. I have come to associate Christmas with Glühwein, a sweetened and spiced warm wine served absolutely EVERYWHERE. I was given the following pamphlet at an on-campus movie. I think this piece demonstrates a few things about German society: views about alcohol, views about Christmas, something about German Beuracracy with a capital B, and their tight personal relationship to Glühwein. This is my first attempt at real translation, but I think it gets the point accross. Maybe it's not even funny if you don't already have some personal experience with Germany and Germans.

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Today and Monday, despite a long-starnding tradition, we are not allowed to offer you, our loyal public, Glühwein* during the showing of ''Feuerzangebowle**''. Group 54 of Building Services took away our permission to serve Glühwein with the reason that, since the excessive missuse of Glühwein during the Student Parliament campaign° which dirtied the lectures halls and university buildings°°, Glühwein will now be forbidden across the board. Although we put in our request for this event on October 4th, we were first informed on Wednesday about the new Glühwein ban. In response we offered to put down a deposit for the movie hall and to clean the hall ourselves, but nothing helped to lift this ban. Even meetings with the rectorate were fruitless. We had already purchased the Glühwein, but are now not allowed to give it to you. If you are of the opinion, like we are, that this is the highest measure of anti-christmas spirit, we would appreciate it if you would pass your opinion along to those responsible for this action, namely....

*Glühwein is a hot-spiced wine served everywhere in Germany around christmas time.
**Feuerzangebowle is itself a Glühwein with added rum (among other things). It is also the title of a German movie from the 30s shown around xmas time. It is shown in Univerities (like this event) and complimentary Glüwein is given to all the students who attend.
° During the Student Elections every political party had tables set up with complimentary Glühwein and Stolen, a German xmas sweet bread.
°°Notice it was because of the excessive dirt, not because of the inordinate amount of alcohol being given to students for free as they walked between lectures, that the Glühwein was banned.

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a note about the evening: The other students, unlike me, seemed to have already known about this ban, and as I walked into the movie hall, I was greated by the intense smells of cinammon, oranges, and hot red wine. Every single student had brought his own personal thermos with Glühwein. And to accentuate the christmasness, each had also brought a tupperware of homemade christmas cookie to spread out on clothe napkins, as well as candles to light on the lecture hall pull out desks. It was a very christmassy scene, like only the Germans can do it.

Adventures with Deutsche Bahn: Part I, Punctuality

It was nearing 1 o'clock. The train to Munich was leaving at 1:04. Alicia and I were waiting for Brandis, and starting to panic. The train arrived at 1:02. Two minutes to go. We got a call from Brandis a minute later, at 1:03. She was on another train which was currently pulling into the station. 1:04. The conductor told me to board. I stood stubbornly on the steps and shouted to Brandis into the phone to get her ass over to track 8!!! She made it at 1:06, to witness conductor trying to force me onto the train. Disaster avoided. Train delayed by two minutes, which it would easily regain going 300 kilometers per hour on the tracks to Frankfurt. The world is that much more exciting when you have to deal with German punctuality.