love of the game

Monday nights is Polish class, Wednesday morning is German. Each is a private lesson with a great instructor. They are different in methodology, but both skilled and adaptive to my learning style so I feel that I am progressing in both.

Language comes easy to me, excluding tonal languages such as Chinese. It's a game, the words, and how you put them together are the rules. The better you know the rules the more you can strategize to win the game.

Others eloquently state how learning a language is akin to gaining another soul or a inside window into a culture, and it remains true. When a word/concept does not exist for a word/concept that you know, it tells you something about the culture. Or when one word exists elsewhere, but not in your language.

As time goes on, however, it becomes more and more clear that I do not love German, and I never will and in learning it I'm going through the motions. I'm fortunate that I pick up so much without trying, so that makes things passable. When I speak Spanish or my simple Polish, it flows. My German is more just 'there'. It's like something that is not noticed when it is acceptable. No one extols the virtue of a coat hanger or a fork, it's only noticed when it is not acceptable. My Spanish or Polish, however, is like my shoes from Paris. My shoes from Paris are noticed and admired and make me feel nice because they are comfortable yet they look damn good at the same time.

In thinking further, it is not necessarily anything about the Germans in particular or their language, besides the things that every other expat blog details greatly about life in Germany.

More specifically, I think of German like I think of swimming. Growing up in the Phillyland area, everyone learns how to swim, especially because summer weekends are spent at the Jersey shore and that is one hell of an undertow. You must learn to swim at a passable level as a child. And every child lives somewhere near a public pool that won't break the bank. I, like all of my peers, learned how to swim over a few summers so that I passed the intermediate level requirements. It involved getting into the pool at the god-awful hour of 7 something in the morning, because my parents worked and I was therefore a part of the early morning round of swimming lessons.

I loathe cold water and I particularly loathe mornings. Putting them together makes it an exponential loathing. I learned how to swim because my mother would have insisted on many more years of such requirements if I could not suck it up and get the skill. Also, because it's an expected skill in that area of the country and there are many activities in addition to the shore that involve water exposure, and quite frankly, growing up in Philadelphia is tough and you will get no California psycho-babble in reference to fear of water. Instead you will get pushed in the deep end and be expected to learn the hard way if you can't get things together in a reasonable amount of time. Although granted, if I would have had a love of the water I could have pursued it. A few souls always do and there are those kids who go on to swim team or related things like crew.

I think of learning the German language in the same way. Living in Germany without German is like living in Philly and not being able to swim. Sure you can live as such, but you won't be able to safely go into the ocean or to a pool party so you're limited. I will never take a German literature course or speak like a angel in German. Just like I will never swim competitively or go to my local public pool here at 7 AM for the early AM swim. It just doesn't mean enough to me.

As long as I can get around acceptably and I am not being impeded on the lack of a skill level, I probably will not go to great lengths to increase my current established skill set. Sure, I'll go to class and perform at a reasonable level because my company pays for it but I will not be the best and at this point in life, it is precisely because I don't see the point that I really don't care, that I need to acknowledge that. And acknowledging that is immensely freeing.

while it was snowing in Germany

While my expat blogger colleagues have been writing about the winter weather, I've been in the sun in Barcelona. En route to Barcelona, I had to switch planes in Palma de Mallorca. As the second plane was 3 hours late in coming from Stuttgart, I had plenty of time to wander around the airport.

So some photos from the Mallorca aipoirt. I took this photo to show the water fountain. While water fountains are all over US airports and many European airports, they are non-existent in the German aiports I travel through (primarily Cologne and D'dorf).

Then a random photo inside the airport because they kept moving the gate during the three hours of delay. So we were supposed to be at gate 91, and they said a 30 minute delay. Then that posting went away as they took over the gate for a different flight. On the TV monitors it said gate 85, but upon going there, there was nothing on the directional sign, so I followed the herd down to the Air Berlin info desk, where they said to go to gate 81. But the TV says 86. It does? One of the Air Berlin workers goes to look, and now it's saying 80. So we traipse down to 80.Finally, after spending two hours gate chasing, we seemed to settle at one gate. Unfortunately, that's when they pushed it back an entire hour. In good news, they sent us to the snack bar where they gave us sandwichs and soda. Where the man is standing is the counter where they gave out the sandwiches. It was very high tech, they looked at your boarding pass and then ripped off a tiny bit of the corner upon giving you a sandwich, I guess to keep you from going for two. OK, it was nice and all for them to feed us, but I wouldn't have wanted two.Finally we took off after three hours. Here is a view of Mallorca from the air. Pretty, no?The work meetings were OK, I met a lot of people whom I have not encountered previously. My long weekend then began at 16.40 on Thursday when arrived back at the airport, catching a ride with some colleagues from some remote site that was an hour away.

I took the bus from the airport into town. It is only 3.75 euros and comes around every 10 minutes, sometimes more or less depending on when in the day you go. I took it to Placa de Catalunya which is a big square. From there I walked to my hotel, which is around 25 minutes by foot. I usually stay at the same hotel because Barcelona is so big and I know where this hotel is, as well as it is a reasonable option price-wise. On Friday I was out and about in the neighborhood, here are some photos:
Finally, I made it to the shoe Mecca, the Camper shoe outlet, or "Re-Camper" as they call it. I bought only one pair of shoes, I'll get a photo of them for a future blog. While I was at the outlet complex, they were photographing an advert. So part of the walkway was roped off and in the center in the bright lights were models on motorcycles. The advert-->it must have been for a cookie because the leather-clad models were posing holding the cookie, about to bite into the cookie.
Later, back in town on Friday evening I took it easy with a coffee at a local cafe. On Saturday it was more of the same, just lazing around the neighborhood, basically. At one point I wandering into a market. It had many stands with fresh meats, cheeses, fish, vegetables, and fruits. I stopped for an espresso and watched the shoppers. Life in Spain moves slow.Later, I went to a neighborhood cafe near the hotel. My Spanish is good enough to please the kind Spanish people, especially as the places I was going were not tourist heavy. At the cafe I ordered a glass of wine and a slice of tortilla. The woman then offered me, 'bread with tomato'. Um, I understand the Spanish words, but not the point. 'Ah carina, I explain.' In Catalunya (the region of Spain that includes Barcelona as its capital, and where they also speak Catalan in addition to Spanish), it is customary to eat bread with tomato as a starter or as a snack. It's bread from a baguette which is smeared with a tomato, so it's a little wet and then it's dabbed with olive oil. You don't actually really get tomato on the bread when you eat it, only the juice and maybe a few of the seeds from the tomato. And she was so sweet, she did not charge me anything for it, although later when I saw some cafe menus I saw it on there for a small amount, 1 euro or under.

Then, I went to a bar where I had previously gone with my travel partner in crime, JF. She and I stopped in this hole in the wall where they serve fabulous wine for 1 euro a glass, in heavy glass jars. We had extremely low expectations and ended up staying there for hours because the wine was so good and the atmosphere was comfortable and relaxed.

This time I was alone, so I got a glass of wine and watched the activities. There were perhaps 8 people around the bar, one of them had a guitar out and was playing. The two bar staff were putting away the tapas. In the background, on TV were the 3 tenors, and a little girl in the bar was enchanted by them. As they started to shut off lights and give signs that the bar was closing (a little surprising at 21.30 for Spain), two older gentlemen, looking at least 70, who had come in for a glass of red wine went to pay and said 'and we invite the chica', so they were paying for me. I said no, it's ok, and they said, no, we do. As I did not want to disrespect their hospitality I let them. So very sweet.

Since it was only 21.30 I stopped at a third cafe. It was open later and some people were there having long dinners, others were having tapas with a bottle of win, others were popping in just for a coffee or a beer at the bar. It was slow as it got a little later in the evening and I was chatting with the bartender so I asked if I could get a photo of the bar, if that was ok. Of course it was ok and then he offered to take a photo of me in the bar, recognizing that I was a goofy tourist. I give you just the photo I took.The next morning (Saturday), I had most of the day as the flight did not leave until 18.00. First stop was to a sidewalk cafe for some fresh squeezed orange juice. The weather was 10 C with blazing sunshine. I sat there for a while watching many people walking all varieties of dogs.
Then I did some final wandering around. Here is one of the bull-fighting rings that is still in use. It is tough to see in this photo, but a motif prevalent in the blue design is the Star of David.

Then, I went to the supermarket to pick up wine and oreos and to the cafe for a coffee. I picked up a salad and fresh tomatos and enjoyed it on a park bench. I went back to the indoor market to buy some fine looking olives. I also bought a slice of tortilla to take with me to eat at the airport later. In speaking with the woman she was asking where I was from, etc. and what did I think of people from Spain? She then also packed with 'as a little gift' one of her home-made empanadillas for me. It was about the size of a pirogi, a deep-fried wonder. Once again, the people of Spain, so very nice.

off to spain with space in the suitcase for shoes

in a mere 12 hours i will be en route and basically offline until sunday.

-->wednesday is getting there and getting some work done, before meeting up with some work people in the evening, whom i do not yet know.

-->thursday is an all day work meeting with pure IT network/infrastructure people. should be fascinating.

-->friday i took a vacation day. will wander around barcelona a bit, and then will be venturing out to the camper shoe outlet. i went there once previously and it's a bit of a hassle to get out there, but the prices are fantastic if you like camper shoes. last time i managed only two pairs and my shopping colleague bought five pairs.

the secret is to go on a monday through friday. and to get the bus to La Roca Village. it's easy to find if you take the metro to the station called Fabra i Puig and then exit the station to the side with all of the bus stops. just look for the tourists standing around with a gleam of hope of good shoes in their eyes, or look at the signposts in each bus stall until you find the one that goes to Granollers Station and then La Roca Village. it tends to be the only bus stop with tourists standing in front, guidebooks in hand, so it's really not difficult to find.

-->saturday, some shopping for nice white wine to bring back and languishing in a cafe with tapas until it's time to leave early evening.

low-carb vegetarianism - it's a wrap

days 3-5 were just blah, and on morning 5 i woke up ill, splattering over the pavement ill, which put an abrupt halt to this little experiment, as not even the worst flu bug or excessive alcohol consumption can take me to that level.

i only know people who have done low carb the 'normal' (read: non-vegetarian) way, but from this perspective, a quick summary of a few positive things on doing this the vegetarian way:

1. at its core it emphasized non-processed foods, and staying away from alcohol and caffeine, always a good thing.
2. the recipes involved were quick to do and ingredients easy to find.
3. i never knew i liked goat cheese until now.

some negatives:
1. a severe lack of energy as time went on. i could not go hiking in the woods on sunday because i just was not up to it. i could see how a sedentary office worker would like this as it is a way to lose weight without physical activity.
2. i could not wrap my head around the idea that an apple could be evil; but that is the very core of the eating style, to eschew high carbohydrate foods.

so i'm back to being a 'normal vegetarian minus dairy'. i'm keeping the book, there are some decent recipes in it taste-wise, but i'll supplement them with a side of bread or rice. in particular, D. found the avocado dip i made from the book to be my best dip ever so all is not lost.

D. occasionally cooks for me, which i ever appreciate because he makes a lovely veg meal considering he is not vegetarian himself. here is one of his recent ones, it's green beans, brussel sprouts, mushrooms in a softly, understated herb sauce served on a bed of lettuce leaves:

fun with grammar, part 1

part of the reason i stay in germany when all else is grim is because of my work colleagues. nevermind their personal qualities of being nice and such. it's a decidedly non-german environment (everyone is 'du') and sarcasm and overall general nonsense abounds and generally rules, while simultaneously switching back and forth between german and english generally creates more fodder for our capers.

it all starts innocently enough, with someone asking me how to say something in english properly, or because they receive an email and understand all of it except for an unfamilar word or phrase or i ask for a word in german. fair enough, but then it tends to wander into slang and side conversations and all heck breaks loose, in particular because my german colleagues always learned 'school english' and are pretty good at it. what they are not good at is the 'casual english' or slang that one gets either from tv/movies or from being in a country.

my german work colleague J. was using 'barking up the wrong tree' in the correct situations for a few weeks having picked it up from someone else, but not knowing what 'barking' meant until last week. that was only because my other colleague M. sent me a note ending with 'or do i go off on a woody way?' umm. say what? so she then types the german 'auf dem Holzweg' thinking that perhaps she mistyped something in english. nope, the english is clear, but what are you saying? when i asked J. he made the link to barking up the wrong tree. so apparently americans bark up the incorrect tree while germans head off on a trail into the woods.

basic enough on the above, but have you ever tried to explain 'booty call' to a german? we are accustomed in the office to not directly translate word to word, but to explain instead because often if it's a difficult or rarely used word in either english or german, then it's easier just to give the definition. gooooood one to try to explain. our favorite learning tool in the office is an online dictionary that also gives common phrases, and we often go to ask Leo but he didn't know this one. apparently Leo doesn't get out much.

the typical mentality is for germans to take apart the english words or to relate to other words, because german tends to be made up of building blocks of words. much easier for an english speaker to pick up german vocabulary than the other way around. for example, if you know 'fahren' = to go by some means other than walking, then it's easy to figure out that 'schnell fahren' = (fast to go, literally) or to speed, 'ski fahren' = (ski to go) or to ski, then you can get the root in other places like 'Busfahrt' = bus ride, 'Busfahrer' = bus driver, and on and on.

so enough grammar, back to the booty call. the first german instinct was to point to the shoe. 'like boot'? um, no. and then the explanation. then the german logic again. 'but why booty?' here we go on another explanation.

and then 'stage three' of the new grammar is a german utilizing the new phrase constantly for about a week after learning it, trying to use it to tweak how the exact usage should be. so a week of 'mrs. x is at lunch with mr. y' 'oh! so is it a booty call?' 'no, there is nothing sexual happening it's only a lunch meeting.' 'ach so.' (sound of pencil on notebook in the background, noting this clarification). 'your boss is late, is he on a bc?' 'is he what?' 'a bc, a booty call-or can you not abbreviate that one? you americans abbreviate things usually' 'well, maybe not that one so much.' 'ok.' (more pencil scratching)

teaching a german a new english phrase: 5 minutes
clarifying this new phrase use over a week: 10 minutes
hearing a german whip out 'booty call' in a perfect context to an unprepared native english speaker: priceless.

The *rain* in *Spain* stays *mainly* in the *plain*

I am off to Spain for a few days late next week, to work one day and then with one day being my first vacation day of the year, as well as a Saturday to run around and shop. This time, it's to Barcelona, which will be my third time there.

In the great behemoth of a company that I work for we have offices around the world. For the most part, the offices where I get to go are the ugly step-sister of offices that are located in industrial parks, on the outskirts of fine metropolises such as: Zwickau, Wuppertal, Geel, Valencia, Wednesbury, Telford, and one podunk one two hours away from Prague--do you get the idea? Offices that are located where land, buildings, and labor is cheap since the primary purpose of the site is/was manufacturing and now we have an office there too. (In your dreams of becoming an expat in Europe, I doubt the above appears, Gentle Reader.)

Rarely do I get to go to the sexy Cinderella offices like London, Paris, or Barcelona as these tend to be tiny satellite offices that are used mainly for sales and for only a small part of the client facing part of the business since real estate in the big cities is expensive.

However, someone managed to set up a meeting in Barcelona because we must talk about their systems there, in that Barcelona office. Shot, score!

-->Four glorious days in a country where the majority of the people are not permanently frowning.

-->Four days of being able to function linguistically as a 31 year old, rather than a 7 year old.

-->Four days of seeing people actually wearing clothing with color, beyond orange, brown and black.

-->One day in an office where business casual is something other than cargo pants or blue jeans.

-->Three days of sweet, gentle white wine and a few more bottles to carry home.

This year is off to a good start!

low carb/vegetarian day 2 and what's on my bookshelf

After taking a few recipes from the book for a spin for both taste and ease of preparation, I decided to give the whole thing a whirl to see if this shakes up my January at all. The book gives vegan options for all vegetarian recipes (Vegan = vegetarian, but in addition excluding any product that comes from an animal such as eggs, dairy, cheese, or honey). I was rather happy being vegan (and not low-carb) when I lived in California, but I find the option to be somewhat difficult here in Germany.

Off to the Saturday trip to the Obst Frau, a few changes to my usual food choices:
Add to the usual list:
10 eggs*, goat's cheese*
cauliflower, avocado

* I will attempt to eat the vegetarian recipes that involve egg whites or goat's cheese, for anything involving an egg yolk or cow's cheese I'll choose the vegan option.
Exclude from the usual list:
apples, potatoes
hohe's multi vitamin fruit juice

Some initial thoughts:
1. If you're already OK with being a vegetarian and you're not of the 'coca-cola and twinkie' variety, vegetarian low carb (VLC from now on) isn't much of an effort or change, except for shifting away from rice and grains as the basis of your personal food pyramid.

2. Being in Germany for this regime is a mixed blessing.
Negative: There is a lack of packaged low carb food like I saw so often in the US.

Positive: A. There is a lack of packaged food in general here, so temptation to eat poorly is low. Personally I love the occasional bag of Doritos or Oreos. Nary a one here in Deutschland. The closest I can get is to get Oreos from Spain (and believe me I do when I'm there!) or Doritos from Netherlands. The Oreos are pretty close but the Doritos are hit or miss depending on the variety. The 'original' here is not like in the US, it's more of a general cheesy chip that looks like a Dorito, but beware, it's fool's gold. Cool Ranch is pretty close in taste between here and there, but not one of my favorites.
B. Also, Germany tends to be very organic in fruits and vegetables by nature so I suspect this is a less expensive experiment for me than an equivalent counterpart in the US who would be buying the more expensive 'organic' version of everything.
C. Germany apparently considers goat's cheese to be a staple item, and it even comes in multiple varieties--hard, soft, with honey, without, etc. Once I started to look for it I found it everywhere, even in the less expensive, discount grocery stores.

3. Having done this for two days, I imagine if you are a meat eater, this program throws your world into chaosis by taking away your hamburger bun and breaded chicken.

So far, I haven't noticed any of the usual symptons one might expecet--of being cranky, tired, lethargic, etc. In general I'm always cranky--ask my work colleagues. ;-) However, interestingly enough, I have been chock full of energy this weekend. Do I think this is a miracle way of eating? No. I think it's because my top three carbs are french fries, pizza, and beer, something to be avoided frequently in any anyone's eating style.

I was so full of energy I catelogged online my entire bookshelf here in Germany. If I was not an expat in Germany planning to leave here some day, I'd have more books. Curious? Visit here.

On accents and language acquisition

In December as I was happily packing my bags, the topic of accents and how one speaks was weaving and winding merrily through various expat blogs. It was part of a meme that involved one speaking and commenting on one's own accent and speaking online for the blog world. There were many lovely voices from all corners of the English and non-English speaking world and all flavors of accents.

Alas, I did not find a Philadelphia blogger posting to listen to the melodic sounds, nor did I feel obligated to contribute my own for a few reasons. First, I recognize that I've lost (or misplaced) a good deal of my Philly sound. I was hoping I'd find it again over the ten days when I was there recently. However, it seems that it is carefully packed away in tissue paper in a box safe in the back of a drawer somewhere there, only to be take out on special occasions.

I grew up with a pleasant Philly sound, as we all did there. Growing up, my mother's side of the family had arrived in the area from West Virginia in 1965-1968. I represent the new beginning, I was the first one born 'up north'. However, being so heavily surrounded by the gentle Appalachian sound I can easily slide into it myself. Growing up I never noticeably picked up the difference of it except on occasional words.

In 1997 I left the area and went to grad school in Washington DC. After that I went and worked in Atlanta for 8 months. Then I went to California for four years, until coming to the UK in early 2003 for five months, and then I've been in Germany since 2003. I've always thought that if you spend much of your early years or teenage years in a location, you will speak primarily with that sound. If you spend 21 years of your life somewhere you cannot drop it like you were never there.

However, some recent interesting pieces:
After a sardine experience with hundreds of other Americans squashing through inadequate security at Paris to connect to my flight to Philly I started to talking to someone in line. Nice enough guy, late 40's, former military stationed in Germany, but now in Switzerland also going home. The usual "standing in line but in a good mood because we're going home small talk" and he says "going to Philly but you're not from there..." Um, no, really. Then he says "oh really, you don't sound like it." Yeah, I know.

Then, over the holidays a cousin had assembled some home videos of years past. One of them includes myself on a bit of a diatribe of teenage drivel around age 15. Holy crap, I never could have imagined the pure Philly sounds coming out of my mouth. I'm not even sure I could shift into such sounds now even if I really tried.

In researching these thoughts further, I came across an interview in USA Weekend (February 20-22, 1998), the folks who make USA Today. It is an interview with Kim Delaney, one of Philly's finest homegrown actresses, here:
It says: To lose a Philly accent: "You have to open your mouth and pronounce every syllable," says this Philadelphia native, who finessed her speech by reading newspapers aloud. "The bottom lip doesn't move as much in a Philly accent."

Well isn't that just interesting? Often in Germany, when someone is making an attempt to speak English, I am careful to speak carefully in order to honor their attempt. We tend to drop letters off of the end of words in Philly-speak, or to speak low and fast. Here in Germany I speak a little more slowly than I would at home and am careful to sanitize my words so that they arrive clearly and as expected. I speak with Americans perhaps one hour total once per week on average. The rest of my 'speaking' time here is with Europeans. The only English I am exposed to is British or Irish.

Which leads me to further thoughts. Often, people have an expectation that learning another language as an adult is too difficult, or Germans says that 'learning German is difficult for English speakers.' To that I say 'blah'. Based on my constant exposure to Germans and how words spill forth, I think it would be harder NOT to learn German based on how so much of it has just slipped into my mind through constant exposure to it.

A few weeks back one of my colleagues from Spain was here. It was refreshing to me as I can move about in Spanish with very little effort. Since I majored in Spanish literature at the university level I acquired a high facility with the language. However, Spanish (of mainly a Puerto Rican or Dominican variety) permeates the Philly area so it wasn't as impressive as if I have gained a high level of a non-local language, such as French or Swedish. All of which further reinforces to me that it is not formal schooling but rather the amount of language exposure that molds your acquisition.

more on food

while back in the US i was noticing all of the 'low carb' products on the shelves, even candy and beer. i have a few friends who have sworn that the atkins low carb diet is the best in the world, but beyond getting a high level understanding of it, and noticing people eating burgers without the bun, i really didn't give it a second look as a vegetarian.

however, on a whim, i recently picked up a new book from www.bookswapper.de, The Vegetarian Low-Carb Diet by Rose Elliot. I was able to choose it because I traded Wally Lamb's She's Come Undone (an Oprah book club one) into the system.

I am further intrigued because this book offers a vegan option additionally in all of its recipes. The recipes seem relatively easy to prepare and simple in ingredient requirements, which is a definite plus for me 'she who cannot cook well'. I'm not sure that I could adhere to such a diet that involves eggs (or substitute a vegan tofu eggless concoction) for breakfast each day (especially as coffee-black and strong is all I need until lunch), nor do I have adherance to a 'diet' per se beyond not eating meat or fish, but any book that offers 'Smoked Tofu kebabs with Peanut Sauce' surely gets my attention.

Stay tuned, this could get interesting.

fresh!

Here in Germany I buy most of my fruits and vegetables from the Obst Frau (fruit lady). As a vegetarian nothing excites me more on a Saturday morning than hopping in the car for a 7 minute drive to the closest farm where one of a handful of ladies will be standing in front of some tables with today's freshest offerings very close to the farm where they were grown.

Granted the selection is not huge, especially in the dead of winter. However, the quality and taste is unsurpassed and the price is quite low if you were to compare to how much you would pay to get farm fresh, usually organic vegetables and fruit in the US. I'm talking so fresh that with they have tomatoes on a vine, the vine is still bright green and moist, like they were picked today in your own backyard.

Winter tends to be a little slower, and they supplement sometimes with a crate or two of things from other farms that they probably pick up wholesale somewhere. Current local offerings are potatoes, onions, multiple varieties of cabbage, turnips, leeks, and apples as well as eggs, homemade egg noodles, and honey. Additional out of the area items include citrus fruits like oranges from spain, and advacados from heaven.

I'm not sure where the lettuce comes from, and I'm not such a fan in the winter as it tends to be bitter. Further, as a vegetarian I can eat a salad with 80% lettuce and still not eat an entire head so it's a little wasted because it goes bad so quickly. Therefore I usually buy the pre-washed, chopped and bagged lettuce from the supermarket, it's my only vegetable purchase from the supermarket.

So imagine my surpise when the Obst Frau had this:

You're thinking, 'big squat,' it's lettuce in a bag, from Belgium. (Thank goodness not from Holland, but that's a different post.) But no! Look closely at the bottom of the second photo, it's still rooted in the dirt. Do you realize the freshness factor here? I can have fresh lettuce for days, instead of one day of fresh and five days of wilting.

The only place I have ever seen lettuce sold as such was Lithuania a few months ago. And now here in Germany, at a farm in the tiny town of B. in the middle of nowhere.

I never felt the urge to write an entire post about lettuce, but today, lettuce gets its day.

(Final thought: I would say, 'today lettuce gets its day in the sun,' but there is still no sun in this part of Germany. Today brought a whopping 5 minutes of sun, but at least the rain finally stopped.)

"the sky won't snow and the sun won't shine"

this is the view from my balcony:for the past five days since i've been back, the weather has been unseasonably warm with constant precipitation ranging from a mild drizzle to a constant downpour. the sun is nowhere to be found and my snowshoes are languishing in the closet.

Dreidel, spin, spin, spin

Here is a photo from the Philadelphia International Airport and my trip home:
Only in Philly would we have giant dreidels adorning the baggage claim areas. It was equal holiday opportunity; the general stack of presents that you also see here in the photo represented the non-religious sect, and there were plenty of Xmas trees all around so all items balanced each other out, rather than the foolishness that occurred at Sea-Tac.

Did you know that the Yiddish word "dreidel" comes from the German word "drehen" (to turn)? Children play a game whereby they put something such as candy or tokens into a pot and then they take turns spinning the dreidel and depending on what side the dreidel lands facing upward then they win or lose the round until ultimately one child wins the entire pot.

In case you're curious, the side facing us is the 'Gimel', meaning all. If you get that side facing up then you win the entire pot. However, here then the side facing up for this round is the 'Nun' which means nothing, and if you get this one you neither gain nor lose, and the turn moves on to the next player.

Is it only me who sees the irony that the non-spinning dreidel here is surrounded by a spinning baggage belt?

back in black

Goodbye Philadelphia 30th Street Station on December 31:


Hello tiny town in Germany train station on January 1:


i am relaxed and ready to go back to work. more details of the trip home will be forthcoming.