28 February 2009 - Foraging for food

[Duran Duran, "Hungry Like the Wolf." Need I say more?]

I consider myself a reasonably good cook, by which I mean that I can follow recipes pretty well and the result is rarely an, um, "burnt offering." But I don't have the ability to look at the random items in my refrigerator and cupboards and make something totally new. I liken it to jazz. I may enjoy jazz and may play the clarinet well, but that does not a jazz musician make. And let's be honest -- I'm an accountant and accountants are not generally known for their creativity and ability to riff (unless you're talking SAS 99, and then I am a maniac!).

So, back to cooking. My cookbooks arrived last Friday along with my other sea shipment items and I have done a fair amount of cooking. (I should note that there are neither Taco Bells nor Chipotle restaurants here, hence the need to forage for my own food.) I figured that, aside from conversions to metric when buying items, it shouldn't be a big deal. I was, of course, wrong. (I am so used to being wrong here that it almost feels right.)

First, there is the layout of the grocery store. I consider myself particularly fortunate to be so close to a large (by German standards) grocery store. But the layout of the store is confusing to me. When you enter the store, you go first through the beverage section (unfortunate, because it automatically increases the weight of your basket significantly -- I am too cheap to use a cart, plus I have to schlep everything back home, so I want to be sure I can carry everything). Then you pass through the frozen foods section (small by comparison to the US), then as you track against the refrigerated cases on the left (which turns into the cheese and meat counter), there are aisles containing (in rough order) personal hygiene products, cleaning products, pet supplies, sweet snacks/treats, salty snacks, canned foods, sauce and soup mixes, more mixes, the foreign foods aisle, olives and olive oil, baking ingredients, random stuff, and then health food across from coffee supplies which also includes the boxed milk. Then you round the bend and you're in an area with a salad bar, various packaged breads, cereal, and the produce area. In between the two areas is a narrow aisle with paper products and magazines. The general idea of sticking to the other edges for produce and fresh things still applies, I suppose, but I find it rather confusing, especially as I try to outfit my kitchen with the basics. I find myself going back and forth and staying for much longer than one would think necessary. Yeah, that's right, Rewe employees, I am stalking your food.

Spices are an interesting situation. They offer spice plants -- a live plant that you just clip off what you need. But they only offer such plants for a few spices. If you want (just for example, and based on my resumes) fresh rosemary, thyme, or basil, you are out of luck. So when your recipe calls for that? Uhhh....

Produce is equally puzzling. Most items are wrapped up in plastic wrap of some sort. There are a few items under the mister, but not many. Tomatoes, onions and potatoes, for example, come in a variety of "denominations" but there isn't a big bin where you choose your own individuals items. Even if you only need one potatoe, you will take this entire bag. And love it. I was, however, amazed at the variety of available types of mushrooms. I will have to investigate that. And the tomatoes are phenomenal. Bok choy? Non-existent. Stay tuned for whether regular cabbage can be used in place of this Chinese cabbage for a soup.

When it comes to meat and cheese, the Rewe is kind of like a Whole Foods. There are a few pre-packaged items, but generally you have to request what you want from a real person. Which, of course, generally requires German skills. Uhhhh.... So last week I had a recipe that called for Gruyere cheese, which I could not find in the regular refrigerated case, so I cautiously approached the woman at the counter and asked in my best German if she had Gruyere cheese. She said (in German), "Of course," and proceeded to ask how much I wanted. Doh! Metrics! I told her I only speak a bit of German, and indicated with the distance between my thumb and index finger about how much I wanted and she obliged. Little steps forward. I haven't ventured into buying protein products yet.

Things that I consider "staples" are also tricky to pin down. Bread crumbs? Nope. (I crushed some whole weat Wasa crackers tonight, which seemed to do the trick for the bread crumbs required for the very tasty Wild Mushroom Barley & Mini Meatball Soup.) Corn starch? Not so much. (Do I just use flour as a thickener? Anyone?) While I was looking for corn starch, I was also looking, for future reference purposes, for baking powder and baking soda. Um, not seeing it. However, I am delighted to report that I DID find some Tabasco sauce! Just the regular flavor, unfortunately, though the packaging insert describes the green and chipotle varieties, so hope springs eternal. It also provided a recipe for a chili-burger, which may be worth checking out. I do so miss my Cholula sauce, though.

The photo for this blog is the roses I bought today (yes, for myself). They are as brilliantly colored as the photo indicates. Price for these 18 pieces of beautiful goodness? Only €5. Deal!! And yes, of course I'm worth it!! There are three floral shops within about as many blocks from my place, so I have started frequenting them. Alas, the tulips I have bought the last two weeks have immediately begun to open, despite my adherence to the instructions of the clerk to cut off about an inch and put them in cold water.

25 February 2009 - Cool as ICE

[I can't imagine I even need to suggest what the theme song for today's posting is, but.... "Ice, Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice]

Last week I took the ICE (Inter City Express, I believe) train for the first time and quite enjoyed the experience. It is not, admittedly, of the same ilk as the mighty Shinkansen of Japan (as previously reported in my TravelPost posting), but it's very fast (I think it travels at speeds around 300 km/hour and is a quick 70 minute trip from Frankfurt up to Köln (aka Cologne)) and a smooth ride.

I was supposed to meet a colleague and take the train with him and was waiting on the platform as the train was preparing to depart. Now, I'm not used to travel by train and suffice it to say that the Acela and Amtrak are no comparison to Deutsch Bahn. I'm used to airplanes for which tickets become useless if you don't take that particular flight, so I jumped on the train before it left (you know, saving the firm money and all). Turns out that if you have a reservation on the train for a particular day, you can pretty much travel anytime, you just aren't guaranteed that same seat in that same car. Anyway, a great experience.

I was "flying" solo again on the train today to visit our office in Köln, which was within walking distance of the main train station. On the way to the office and located directly next to the train station is the "Dom," a huge cathedral that was one of the few buildings not destroyed during World War II. As I was walking to the office, people were leaving the Dom following completion of an 8 AM mass which apparently occurs every day, but was particularly special this day because, of course, it is Ash Wednesday. Kind of interesting to watch everyone come out.

Speaking of Ash Wednesday, the scene near the Dom today was markedly different from what I saw just a week ago, and it's all because of Karneval. Karneval is the German version of Mardi Gras and is celebrated widely, with different cities claiming bragging rights for who has the best celebrations, Köln and nearby Düsseldorf being two of those cities. The celebration begins the Thursday before Ash Wednesday and takes different forms. I was in Köln last Tuesday, so it was very calm and quiet. Today, it look like a parade hurricane had blown through there. Apparently, in addition to the festivities over the weekend, they have one of the largest parades in the country in Köln on what I would refer to as Fat Tuesday. (Side note: I am not Catholic, but enjoy Fat Tuesday -- who wouldn't, with a name like that? -- because every Fat Tuesday in our Chicago office, one of our paraprofessionals brought in punschkies (sp?), which are delightful Polish pastries full of goodness and, well, lots of fat, undoubtedly. Yum!) When I arrived today, public works employees were hosing down the streets, tearing down reviewing stands for the parades and a whole bunch of other things. Very interesting.

Düsseldorf also kicks off their celebrations on the Thursday before Ash Wednesday. People dress up in costume and women apparently go up to random men and cut their ties (yes, even nice silk ties) and kiss them. Hmmm.... I spoke with an attorney a few weeks ago who lives in Düsseldorf and he shared a somewhat amusing and somewhat horrifying story. A few years ago, he was hosting Finnish clients for a very important and somewhat sensitive meeting. The meeting happened to fall on this particular Thursday, but no one seemed to notice that. The law firm didn't have much conference space at the time, so they rented a conference room in one of those office-for-rent kind of places. Which places also supply "rented" administrative personnel. So when they showed up for this very important meeting, the client (knowing nothing about Düsseldorf's tradition) was greeted by administrative assistants dressed up like Mickey Mouse and Snoopy who promptly cut off the ties of the client and kissed them. Uhhhh.... Awkward?

I'm not sure what the celebrations generally are in Frankfurt, though apparently some sort of parade began on Sunday afternoon at 2:11 PM. Further, employees in Eschborn were entitled to a half day of personal time for Karneval related festivities yesterday (Fat Tuesday). I, um, was working (and recovering from the emotional trauma of the gym). Maybe next year....

24 February 2009 - How I miss the East Bank Club

[Might I suggest C&C Music Factory's "Gonna Make You Sweat" as theme music for today's blog?]

And a warning, this blog is rated PG-13. Read onward at your own risk.

I realize I was spoiled by life at the East Bank Club. No, it's not the Oprah or Obama spotting opportunities, but the 'little' things like having 400+ pieces of cardio equipment (many with built-in LCD screens to control your own programming), the myriad spa therapies available (don't get me started on how much I miss Agnieszka and Tatiana, my massage therapist and manicurist, respectively), locker room amenities, the Grille (oh, The Grille....), racquet sports, the indoor driving range and putting green, the 1/4 mile indoor track, the three pools, and the Lido Deck. But I knew I was spoiled (see www.eastbankclub.com for just how spoiled I was). I really did. Well, I thought I did. Allow me to report on some features of the EBC that I now realize I took for granted.

1. The Hours. EBC was open on weekdays from 5 AM - 11 PM. Some gyms in the US are open 24 hours per day, but these hours were fine for me. Oh, how fine they were.... Most gyms here don't open until 9 AM. Yeah, that's right -- about a half hour after I am usually sitting at my desk toiling away. I am a morning workout person so this is problematic. The latest most are open is 10 PM, though if I work out late at night, I have difficulty sleeping.

2. Proximity. EBC is about three blocks from my Chicago digs. A nice warm-up or cool-down walk, particularly if you swing by the Dunkin' Donuts on the way back. There's a gym about two blocks from my Sachsenhausen digs that is a 'Ladies Club,' which kinda freaks me out or makes me think that it will be some version of Curves or something. Like a lot of happy giggly women which is, to me, inconsistent with really working out. Yes, I know I have some stereotypes that are misplaced, but what can I say? The next closest gym (one that scandalously allows men) is about a 10 minute walk away. The Ladies Club opens at 7 AM two days a week. Woohoo!!! However, by the time I would work out, go home, get ready for work, and drive to work, it would be long past 9 AM.

3. Locker room products. I am a loyal product chick, but I was fine with the products EBC had in the showers and locker room areas -- shower gel, bar soap, shampoo, conditioner, a supply of razors, hair spray, spray-on deodorant (who realized that was still manufactured?), q-tips, mouthwash, make-up removal pads, etc.

4. Towels. EBC had towels everywhere. Towels by the pools. Towels throughout the workout areas. Towels by the shower. Towels other places in the locker rooms. There was no shortage or confusion about whether towels were available.

5. Temperature. EBC has a nice, cool-but-not-cold temperature with low humidity. A nice environment for working up a sweat. This was nicely complemented by the built-in fans on some of the treadmills. Ahhhh.....

Those are just a few examples. So, I have finally joined a gym here that was recommended by one of the partners here in at work. It is practically next door to the office and opens at 7 AM three (!!) days a week. If I worked out precisely at 7 AM, I could be in the office well before 9 AM since I wouldn't have to deal with the commute. The gym isn't all that large, but has some classes, seems very clean, doesn't smell like sweat, and has good cardio equipment and machines. All good. So I signed up and they gave me a bag of goodies -- a PowerBar water bottle (which I was told I could fill up at their little water machine for free), a little lanyard with the gym's name/logo (it's unclear what I am to hang from said lanyard), a small red towel, and two little grip things that I have no clue how/where to use.

So this morning was my first workout. I showed up, got my membership card and was given a key to a locker (apparently you can't rent lockers here and leave your stuff here, which is unfortunate). There was a pretty small group working out -- three older guys and a woman -- so no waiting on machines. A good start. They have four TVs that you can tune in to from your machine, which is also a nice option, though not as nice as having your own video screen. So I did a long elliptical workout to work my way in gently. Then headed back to the locker room.

Now, as a refresher, Europeans have less anxiety about showing their nude bodies than does the typical American (like me, for example). I don't mind a general locker room, but always found it somewhat odd at EBC when you'd have a few women just walking around nude and showing off things I'd really rather not see, but whatever. So you can imagine my surprise when the partner from work mentioned that the sauna (which one generally apparently uses in the nude) at the gym is coed. Uhhhh.... Somehow I don't think I'll be checking that out, even if I end up going into crazy workout mode and become ridiculously fit.

So, what's more awkward than being in a locker room with a bunch of nude women? Being in a small locker room with just one woman. Awkward.

And made even more awkward when one discovers that no towels are provided for showers. Uhhh.... So, that small red towel from the goody bag.... Awkward.

It is, of course, a communal shower. With absolutely no products, not even that shower gel for hair and body which is a staple of many European hotels, but which I find works well for neither. I had brought along my entire travel bag, so I had some shampoo and stuff. But there isn't a ledge or place to stow your stuff by each shower head. You hang your (tiny) towel on a hook by the door and hope you get one of the two shower stations that share a tiny ledge where you could put your stuff. As I stood in the tiny trickle of water (which shut off every minute or so, requiring you to punch the button again), I recalled that the only sink was a tiny one in the WC, so I was going to have to wash my face in the shower as well. Grrr.... If possible, that tiny red towel shrunk while I was in the shower.

What's more awkward than dripping wet with a tiny red towel? Dripping with with a tiny red towel and having a kind stranger try to strike up a conversation with you in German. The words helpless and defenseless come to mind. Another woman came in later who was equally friendly, so who knows, perhaps this is how I will end up making friends. I'll just be doing it with one of the full size towels I will now carry at all times in the trunk of my car!

23 February 2009 - Reunited with stuff (and Sarah, too)

[Suggested music for reading this blog - "Reunited" by Peaches & Herb]


There is much from last week to cover, but it will have to wait for this far more important news.

I HAVE A KITCHEN!!!!

Not only that, but the infamous and ever-elusive sea shipment has now been delivered, so my camping experience (aside from the lighting issues) is pretty much over.

First, the kitchen. While I was able to pay the deposit for the kitchen via bank transfer, I was required to pay the balance in cash. This strikes me as unusual (and, from an internal controls perspective, a little bit horrifying), but apparently this is not entirely uncommon here. Of course, the bank isn't open here on weekends and there isn't one near the office, so my solution was to go to the ATM each of four days and withdraw the maximum allowed for my account - €1,000. Now, not unlike the US, ATMs generally aren't stocked with a bunch of large bills, so I was generally given a fistfull of €50 bills. And another fistful the next day and so on to the point where I felt like I had either robbed a convenience store or was a sitting target for robbery myself! Anyway, I gave him the kitchen guy my cash and the key and hoped for the best. I was gone from Tuesday until Thursday, so I entered with cautious optimism on Thursday night. It was there. As small as I suspected it would be, but quite nice. And the kitchen guy had even loaded my Coke Light into the new refrigerator so I was able to celebrate the moment. AND, best of all, the range hood has a light in it so there is now a little bit of light in the otherwise-dark kitchen. Woohoo!!! I was so excited I could hardly go to sleep on my little IKEA mattress.

Well, what a difference another day brings. The movers showed up a little bit before 8 AM. I stumbled upon the leader as I was on my way to buy some coffee. He hadn't run the doorbell, but was standing outside, so I asked him if he was with the moving company and indeed he was. This began a day of questions and answers in broken German/English on both sides, but he (Rolf)was a good sport. One of the questions was, "Um, where's the truck?" Well, there isn't a lot of room on my one-way street and most of the people who park on the street hadn't gone to work yet, so parking was an issue. Not to be deterred from my coffee, I asked him if he'd like to go with and I'd buy him a coffee. He went without a moment's hesitation, which amused me a bit, and also may have given me a bit of street cred in the corner bakery/coffee shop (not to be confused with Corner Bakery, my Chicago friends), where they don't seem particularly excited to endure my broken German.

Anyway, they finally found a way to park that only blocked the street a bit and the unloading began. I had received good counsel from someone to make sure that I unpacked as much as I could while the movers were still there as they would take the packing materials away which is otherwise a pain to get rid of. They had one guy on the truck (Detlef, which name of course reminded me of the basketball player, but I figured it would be bad form to mention that), another guy who moved the loaded carts into the building and up the elevator to my unit, and Rolf who carried the boxes (I appreciated that they didn't even ask if they could roll the cards across the hardwood floors) into my unit and started some of the setup. It was remarkably efficient and by the time they left at around 12:30, I had a dining room table, rugs rolled out, bed set up, kitchenware unpacked, and, perhaps most important of all, had been reunited with my Sarah Palin action figures.

One of the first things I unpacked was the Roomba, the vacuuming robot dealio. I had assumed (incorrectly) that the box in the middle of the cord would convert the power similar to my laptop cord, so all I had to do was plug it into an adapter. Not so much. Well, this left me with no vacuuming capabilities at home. Hmmm.... Who sells household appliances?? So I went across the street to visit my valentine, Barney. Alas, he was not there not was he scheduled to be in the following day. Doh! So I asked the woman who was helping me (only in German -- helpful, but she's no Barney), "Haben Sie ein vacuuming iRobot maschine.... [puzzled looks at the crazy American]...eine Roomba?" Ah, Roomba!!!! Of course. So she took me to a wall where the latest, greatest Roomba (the deluxe 580, which slices, dices and ginsu purees while keeping both floors and carpets pristine -- and which can be scheduled to clean even when you're away!). Sold! The cool thing is that I learned, with the assistance of my brother, that I can charge my 'old' Roomba on the same dock, though I'm wondering what the iRobots will do if they are both fighting for time in the same dock!

While I was waiting for the clerk to find one of the boxed Roombas in their warehouse, I looked around the store and was checking out the coffee machines. As I have mentioned before, coffee is a big deal here. And while I enjoy the coffee here, I don't really actually drink that much coffee, so I suspect that the beauty of the machines that freshly grind the beans before making each specialized cup would be a little more than what I need. And then I'd have to keep up with which coffee beans are for espresso drinks and which are for 'regular' coffee. That is way too much to figure out for 1-2 cups per day. Yet I never really was all that pleased with my little 'pod' coffee maker thing in the States. It was okay, but.... And I really want something that can steam/froth milk for a cappuccino or something sassy like that, which then significantly jacks up the price. Well, my new friends at EP Fischer introduced me to the Nespresso line of pod-like coffee, but they're tiny pods vacuum packed in brightly colored aluminum (or aluminium, if you prefer). And they had JUST the machine for me - the DeLonghi Lattissima EN 690. With a name like that, I am ready to be a barrista already! (https://secure.nespresso.com/precom/sima/fiche__NESPRESSO_DeLonghi_LATTISSIMA_EN690___D_F320_2_de_en.html)
Anyway, it has a special milk container that connects directly to the machine and a little spout that pours the steamed milk directly into your mug or other beverage container as it makes the coffee, rather than forcing you to have to steam and then mix them together. It is fascinating to watch. And the milk spout has an automatic cleaning mechanism so that it doesn't get all crusty and nasty. And then you just put the milk container into the refrigerator. Very cool. I could make coffee all day long just to see it work.

As if the day couldn't get any better, the Telekom guy came in the afternoon to hook up my phone service. While I am having difficulty configuring the router (all instructions are in German), the land line service works great. I have a special deal where I pay an additional €3.95/month for UNLIMITED calls to the U.S. and some other countries. How cool is that? So if you want to hear a direct blog, let me know and I'll give you a call sometime.

Finally, I should note that I have become a cooking fool now that I have my own pots and pans, , knives and cook books here and means to cook and bake. Friday night I made a new recipe for penne with cauliflower and leeks, which sounds a bit bland until you read the recipe and realize fresh chili peppers are also involved. Saturday night was a stir fry dealio with fresh mushrooms and more chili pepper action and which made enough for a small army. Last night was fresh tomato, basil and riccota rissoto, which is as tasty as it sounds and made enough for a LARGE army (there may be a small container cooling in my office window when I get to the office to post this). That recipe was my first oppotunity to use my new oven as it called for browning the fresh, crumbly ricotta cheese in the oven for 10 minutes. Normally, an instruction like 'Preheat oven to 350 degrees' is the easiest part of a recipe. Um, not when your oven has pictures for functions (which pictures make no sense other than the one with the light bulb), you're not exactly sure how many degrees centigrade 350 Fahrenheit translates to, and the kitchen dude only left the installation instructions for the oven and not operating instructions! Suffice it to say, though, common sense prevailed (I think) and the risotto turned out very well.

17 February 2009 - Chillin' at the Office

The windows at the office are fascinating to me. Like most windows here, they open from the top inward at an angle, or if you move the handle to a different position they open like doors. But you're not actually opening the window directly to the outside air, but into another little glassed-in compartment. About 10 inches out is another piece of glass and at the bottom of the little box created between these glass panes is a grate of sorts that lets the air flow through the opening. This way, even if it's raining or snowing outside I can open the windows (which is important, because I'm often a bit toasty here).

Now, the grate is about four inches lower than the bottom of the internal window, so it is tucked out of view, particularly if you're as short as I am. In my first few days when I was still camping out in someone else's office (not to be confused with camping out in my own apartment, which is still going on), I was standing close to the window and noticed that someone had placed some sort of wrap sandwich out there, probably to keep it cool or something. Well, I'm not sure how long it had been there, but it looked like it might be alive enough to be trying to escape through the grate somehow.

The idea stuck in my mind, though, and I have found myself using the great out-of-doors as my personal refrigerator. Generally, I find myself running short of time at home, so I throw a container of yogurt (what better way to make a day better than mit yoghurt?). But then I tend to forget to take the yogurt out of my bag and I find it that night, but which time I assume it is past its useful life. One day, the idea struck me to put it out on the grate. Again, good in theory, but you have to remember that it's out there. Last night I had some passionfruit yogurt (tasty!) that seemed to have lost a bit of its passion through its weekend on the ledge, but I lived to see another day. I don't intend to use this on a regular basis, but an interesting option for the winter months.

Incidentally, we had the most beautiful snow here yesterday. Some of the biggest, fluffiest flakes I may have ever seen. Alas, it is all gone today and it is rather dreary.

16 February 2009 - Neighbors!

One of the things that was mentioned in the cultural sensitivity training is that Germans generally keep to themselves. They value their privacy and value your privacy as well, so they are not likely to go out of their way to be friendly the way we might in the U.S. There was also some discussion of Americans being peaches (fuzzy and friendly and juicy on the outside, but a bit on the shallow side once you hit the pit) and Germans being more like coconuts (hard exterior and difficult to penetrate, but once you're in, they've got your back forever). So, suffice it to say, I haven't been surprised that I haven't made friends with everyone in the neighborhood yet. (I did, however, stop by to see Barney on Valentine's Day -- truly -- not to declare my undying love but to thank him again for his assistance and to tell him I'll be back for more purchases as a result.)

So with that as background, imagine my surprise and confusion when my doorbell rang last night. Yes, on a Sunday. Now, Sunday, if I haven't explained it before, is a day for family and friends. The stores are closed and there's not a whole bunch to do. The general quiet time of 1-3 PM is particularly adhered to on Sundays and it would be bad form to interrupt anyone then. So a doorbell ringing on a Sunday was particularly unusual (other than the fact that no one has ever rung the interior bell before). I opened the door and was greeted by my neighbors, who were bearing a little potted plant with a bow and their calling cards attached to it. I was just blown away. They are women about my age, speak English fluently, and volunteered their assistance in helping me get settled, etc. And, of course, apologized for coming on a Sunday. Soooo nice. I may make friends here yet!

12 February 2009 - Snaking along on the highway

[Suggested music for listening to this blog is Frederica von Stade singing "The Distance Between Us" -- but I warn you it may make you cry if you listen to the words.]

I am now pretty much used to my normal commute to work, though I miss the 10 minute walking commute that I had in Chicago. The drive from home to about 1 kilometer from the office takes about 15 minutes. That last kilometer, though, can take anywhere from two minutes to 30 minutes, which is a bit frustrating. There is an on-ramp to the highway followed immediately by an offramp to Eschborn, so you have people trying to get across both lanes which is a mess. The traffic often backs up long before this point, so there are long lines of cars in both lanes waiting for the chance to enter this merger dance.

It gets better. Once you're on the off-ramp, there is a similar merge for the right hand turn lane. If you stay in the exit lane, it becomes a right turn only lane. So you have people trying to get out of that lane, and others who are already on this road trying to get into that right turn lane. So what happens in preparation for that right turn lane business is that cars form two lanes on the same single-lane exit ramp. And, of course, since this is backed up, it is often two lanes backed up to the first merge. It is a mess. Especially if you get in the wrong lane, though people are generally rather patient and good about letting people into the lanes if they signal. Proper etiquette dictates, as in many parts of the US, a simple wave in the rear view mirror as thanks for letting you in.

One of Bonnie's features, incidentally, is interruption for traffic reports. A week or so ago I found an input jack for an auxiliary audio device that is secreted in the center console. So I can hook up my iPod in there and let it play as the auxiliary. Imagine my surprise last week, though, when I was deep in the midst of the saddest, melancholy song by Frederica von Stade (today's suggested music, of course) and suddenly a hurried and somewhat harsh German voice took over the airwaves in my car. Uhhhhh???? It was the traffic report. As soon as it was over, audio on the iPod resumed. Interesting feature. Helpful, yet alarming in that particular instance as I wondered what kind of national emergency warranted taking over the airwaves!

I think I am actually starting to understand the traffic reports, but the references to a particular number of kilometers (generally 2-3 kilometers) was a bit confusing as it didn't seem to be referring to speed. I mean, if you're going 2 kilometers per hour, you're stopped, so there must be a better German reference for that, right? I asked my German language tutor and she said that it's a reference to how long the string of traffic is, like a traffic snake. Hmmm.... So essentially packed stop-and-go traffic for two kilometers or so. Interesting.

There is another important part of my commute -- my parking garage. To access the parking space in my building, I have to enter on a different street, use a credit card kind of thing to open a gate to what is otherwise a public parking garage for the grocery store adjacent to my building, and then use a remote control for a metal gate to a somewhat-secured parking area underneath my building. I say 'somewhat secured' because while cars can't get in without a remote control to open the gate, people can walk right through a gate that is never locked for security purposes and can then walk right into our building that isn't locked at that entrance (which strikes me as a security risk, which I intend to bring up with the building someday). The credit card part of this system is, to put it politely, not very good. There were several times when the gate simply would not go up, I'd have to take a ticket from the machine as if I were parking in the public area, but then it wouldn't let me out unless I paid €9 for the night. This, to put it mildly, did not please me. Particularly since there is no cell phone signal in said garage where you could call someone and rant, nor is there a control on the gate system where you can talk to an operator. Grrr.... The building's answer to my complaint was to hold the card over the reader for longer periods of time. I suspect this story may be a recurring one.

My building and those around it are still under construction (yet another reason I'm not wild about our building not being locked at one entrance), so one of the things I usually experience each morning at the credit card secured gate is the unloading of construction supplies down the ramp that I am trying to use to exit. Last week there were big heating ducts. Yesterday there were rolls of insulation cruising down the ramp. Today, it appeared to be a pallet full of drywall or perhaps insulation panels that left only a few inches on each side of the ramp as they were hauled down. I seem to always surprise them when I suddenly appear in the ramp. There are a lot of words in German (apologies, I assume) and I generally back up and let them finish. This is kind of interesting to watch because they don't have a way of getting the gate up either, so they have to duck or bend to get under the lowered gate and also drag their stuff under the gate. Anyway, then they help guide me out into the street where the truck they are unloading is pretty much illegally parked and blocking most of the street and pretty much all visibility. I suspect I will miss them when I can simply exit immediately with no smiles from cute German men to send me on my way.

9 February 2009 - Barney, will you be my valentine?

[Suggest the Fred Rogers song, "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" for reading this posting.]

First apologies for the delay in posting. The night of the last posting was the last one where I was able to find an unsecured WiFi connection in my hood. So I am truly out-of-touch at home except for my BlackBerry, hence the lack of postings as I have to remember to do them in Word on my home computer, transfer them to a USB drive that my firm computer then wants to encrypt and render useless, etc. This posting will probably be long enough for several postings, though, so you'll have your fill for a while.

Anyway, aside from the lack of phone/internet service, I am more or less temporarily settled in my place, though anxiously awaiting the arrival of my sea shipment. How cool would it be if you could do a sea shipment tracker like a FedEx shipment tracker and watch the shipment cross the sea (of course, a bow cam from the ship to see wave height and weather conditions would be quite helpful), clear customs, and hit the rails or highway to make it to the final destination? I suspect the moving company does have some information, but doesn't have the level of interest on the degree of pitching and rolling of the ship that I may. One also wonders whether, given at least shipments to the U.S., such a tracking system would also pose increased risks for terrorism given our apparent inability to secure our ports. But I still would like to know.... Anyway, according to the moving company over here, the shipment was to have arrived at port in Hamburg this past Thursday (5 February) and then would have to be transferred to Bremen to clear customs. I still have this fantasy that everything will be delivered to my place this Friday so that I can settle in over the weekend. You know, given that I don't have much more than candlelight under which to unpack on weeknights.

The kitchenette was delivered last Monday, but required the services of a plumber to hook it up. So as of Thursday morning (yes, the same 5 February when the shipment was to arrive in port -- perhaps I should have bought a lottery ticket for the €30 million lotto here!), I had actual cooking and refrigeration options (though admittedly my walk-out refrigerator on the balcony was doing a fine job refrigerating my Coca Cola Light and yogurt -- you didn't think I could go off yogurt-enhanced products cold turkey did you?).

The washer and dryer have now been installed. The delivery was something of a mess. Birgit had called to change the delivery date from Wednesday to Thursday (you know, because it was 5 February and the stars were clearly aligned), but they showed up on Wednesday, which I was able to cleverly deduce from the fire engine red note left in my mailbox which I believe was demanding I call them immediately. They called my cell phone on Thursday (not on Wednesday when they were actually trying to make the delivery) and didn't really speak much English. Fortunately Per (my partner at the firm here in Frankfurt) was in my office so he spoke to them in German and arranged for Saturday delivery. Problem is that I needed to call them on Saturday morning and, in German, confirm a delivery time. Uhhh.... Big shout-out and snaps to Per who volunteered to call them Saturday morning and then call me with the details. Huge burden lifted!

So Media Markt showed up on Saturday morning and installed the items. If I didn't describe the situation already, the general practice here is to have one's washer and dryer in the basement of the building. It's like a laundry room, but you have your own dedicated machine(s) rather than a coin-operated kind of dealio. However, similar to the coin situation, you can actually lock the power connections to your washer and dryer (there are actually little keys for this) so that no one can steal my power. Apparently the water is a free-for-all. Anyway, in the space assigned to me and where my keys work with the power, there is only enough space width-wise for one machine, meaning the dryer then has to be stacked. No big deal, right? So the guys installed the washer, and put the dryer on top, but it was quickly clear that there was a problem. The top of the washer was pretty slippery and the 'feet' of the dryer were hard plastic rather than rubbery. The guy shook the washer and it was easily to envision, in a fit of passion and wringing of the washer, the dryer falling off. Hmmm.... The guy suggested a 'gummy' which I assumed meant a rubber mat of some sort.

So I went to Hornbach Baumarkt, which appears to be something like a Home Depot and which was strategically located next to a certain IKEA store (you knew I couldn't go more than a few days without visiting IKEA). They sold a mat that was designed to go underneath a washer, but I figured it could just as easily go on top of the washer as a base for the dryer. It is square and about a 3/4 inch thick, made of recycled rubber, and extremely heavy. I was proud of myself for having found such a fine match for my need, as the only other thing I could think of were shower mats (available at IKEA for €2,99 each, in case you were wondering). The problem was positioning the mat. Recall, the dryer is already on top of the washer. Surface of washer is slippery. Rubber is not at all slippery and is heavy. Dryer, while not particularly heavy, is a bit bulky. So there was I was trying to lift the dryer up with one hand and trying to slide in the rubber. Of course, when I lifted the dryer, it wanted to slide back/off the washer. And the rubber didn't want to slide at all. And I had a difficult time getting the rubber even under one of the dryer legs because it was so heavy and big. Of course, the dryer was too heavy for me to lift off and set on the floor. So there was this five minute session of grunting, lifting, mild swearing, careful maneuvering, and perhaps a few prayers for a man who could do this sort of stuff with me (and who could lift those heavy boxes of pressboard products at IKEA). In the end, though, I was successful and now have a washer and dryer.

I'm still not 100% (okay, not even 75%) sure how to use the machines. I push some buttons on the washer until it selects an option that uses cooler temperatures so it doesn't take so long (the hot water cycles involve a lot of recycling or something and area easily more than an hour), take a guess that I got the right slot for the detergent tabs, and then watch with bated breath to see if the water starts flowing in and contains some soapiness. So far so good and the clothes seem to be quite clean. The dryer is also a bit different from what I'm used to. There is no vent to the outside world where moisture is released. Instead, the moisture is condensed and captured in a plastic container of the dryer, which you then empty. I'm still not clear where I am supposed to empty this container. In most laundry rooms, there would be a sink, but that's not the case in our laundry room. So I ended up taking the container all the way up to my apartment to empty it. Maybe I can find a bucket or something for that, but there must be a better way.

So Saturday afternoon after all of these laundering good times, I was walking down the street to my neighborhood Aldi to buy some cleaning supplies. (I have no idea how to find a cleaning person, so I am left to my own devices.) As I was walking past the relatively small home appliance and electronics store across the street from my place, I noticed a TV in the window. It appeared to be a floor model on sale for the low, low price of €400. Not a big one (26"), but fine until my stuff gets here and will be fine for my bedroom. Score! So I walked in. First person I saw was an older gentleman and I immediately though, "This guy is soooo not going to speak English." Using the language prowess that was so effective with the woman at Media Markt for the washer and dryer, I said I'd like the TV and did he speak English. Turns out he DOES speak English and very well. Turns out the sale wasn't for a floor model. He didn't have the one in the window with all the packaging, so he sold me one that was actually a better model (HD rather than HD ready) for the same low price. I loved him already. He said that he wouldn't be able to deliver it that day, but.... "Even though I live next door?" Well, okay....

So about an hour later, Barney himself showed up with the boxed TV on a dolly. He brought the TV in and said he'd never been in my building before and would I mind if he checked out the views from the building. Have at it! He also noted that it looked like (in the dim light of my living room) I might have satellite TV from the building instead of cable. He said that if, after I turned on the TV and plugged it into the jack, there were no stations, to come back to the store. I asked when they closed since it was already about 5:45, and he said they closed at 6, but they were having company meetings at the store until 10, so I could just knock on the window. Hmmm. Okay. So I quickly set up the TV and realized that a coax cable was not included. Was back at the store by 6, bought a cable, and realized that it didn't fit into the plugs on the wall. Hmmm.... So back to the store, which was now closed. Sure enough, they let me right in, he sold me a satellite box, and said to let him know if I had any issues. Well, it worked like a charm. Al-Jazeera is coming through loud and clear (alas, no sea shipment tracking programs), as are about 100 German channels for free and a bunch of others I can only dream about. All made possible by Barney. Love him! Whoever says the Germans do not know the concept of customer service (which I generally have found to be fine, for the record), has not met Barney. He rocks! And he has also reunited me with Christiane Amanpour on CNN International, so alles gut!

So Barney, will you be mine? And even if you've already got a sweetie, know that I am going to buy my bigger TV, my overpriced coffee machine, and maybe even a surround sound system from you just the same. Love the local connection!

3 February 2009 - In Search of Incendiary Devices

During the holiday season, a good friend of mine was burning a Laura Mercier sugar cookie scented candle in her home. We both thought that it just smelled like home. Warm and buttery and sugary. Maybe even a little bit gooey on the inside if it just came out of the oven. Anyway, the day I flew over here she gave me one of the candles so that wherever I was I could smell the candle and I would feel at home.


A sweet thought and heartwarming gift, to be sure. The only problem is I, of course, could not carry matches on the plane with TSA restrictions and all. Probably could have put some in the checked baggage, but there are tons of smokers in Europe so it should be so very easy to get some matches, right? Um, not so much. Note that I arrived on 3 January and it was not until today, 3 February, that I finally was successful in obtaining an incendiary device. And not for lack of trying.



No matches at the front desk of the hotel. None at the few restaurants I have visited. The closest I came was at Aldi one day a woman was buying a three-pack of cigarette lighters that were on sale. I certainly didn't need three, right? Well, the next time I went back those were gone, too. Doh! So I checked in the household supplies section at the grocery store. In the candle sections of IKEA and the grocery store. I even checked out at the "make your own smokes" aisle (it wasn't actually called that, but it was rolling papers and tobacco and other carcinogen-enhancing products) but still no matches. And, of course, what I REALLY want (particularly since there are seven tea lights in each of these five IKEA candle strips things, which would require quite a lot of matches to complete the lighting ceremony) is one of those long lighter things with the finger trigger so there is plenty of distance between you and the open flame. Safety first and all....


Now, you may be wondering why I didn't simply ask someone where the matches were. Valid question. There's just something about asking where to buy fire that strikes me as a bit odd and that people might think this foreigner was trying to burn down the house. And my excuse of "I just want to smell sugar cookies" would only have added to their perception that I was a little crazy in the head. A pyro in the making.



So this afternoon walking back from lunch, my assistant asked if I minded if she had a cigarette while I went into the bank. "On one condition. Will you help me buy matches?!" Now, I realize that sounds even more bizarre than asking where to buy fire. It's like I'm asking her to contribute to the delinquency of a nascent pyromaniac. Fortunately for me, she is used to me being a little unusual and asked what matches were and why I wanted to buy them. Well, long story short, we went to the convenience store next to the office as she was sure they would have lighters there. Which they did. Right besides the long trigger lighter I was craving. All that goodness for €4,99, which might normally seem overpriced but seemed quite reasonable today.

So all is good. I am typing this in my first night in my new digs, sitting on a garden chair I picked up at IKEA tonight (where I also ate dinner because I, you know, don't have a kitchen), with the strips of IKEA candles light up (quite nice), the iPod in its computer speaker and subwoofer docking contraption, latching onto an unsecured WiFi network, with the smell of sugar cookies in the air. I'm home!!