["Money (that's what I want)" by The Flying Lizards.]
In our first installment of Banking in the Bundesland, I mentioned some of the unique joys and frustrations of banking here while still dealing with Citibank in the U.S. Unfortunately, since then I have had occasion to discover firsthand that both systems are plagued with some of the same types of fraud.
I have a MasterCard from Commerzbank. I don't use it much at all here -- just for things that I buy online like goodies from Amazon.de or airline tickets. I used it a bit more when I was in the U.S. in late July/early August because, among other things, so many things in the US are value-priced, particularly when purchased with the strong Euro. Well, "value-priced" is a relative term if one doesn't consider all the, um, "hidden costs" and risks when making a transaction these days.
Fast forward to about a month ago when I had the overwhelming urge to purchase a keyboard, as described in a separate blog. I wasn't sure how much a keyboard might cost these days, so I logged into Commerzbank online banking to check what the available balance was in my current account (the one that is kind of like checking, except we don't have checks here). There is a helpful Summary of Accounts screen where I caught the balance of my current account and was about to navigate away from the page when I did a double-take at the summary for my credit card. Which summary showed a balance of over €9,000!!! Uhhhh..... I clicked through and was rather astonished at what I saw -- myriad charges all incurred in Calgary, Canada. I, of course, had not been in Canada and have never been to Calgary.
So then comes the fun part of trying to figure out how to straighten this mess out. First step was to get the credit card shut off immediately. Tricky part is that, unlike a US credit card, there is no number on the back of the credit card to call. Hmmm.... Looked around online and also didn't see a number to call (and it may not surprise you that unlike the US, many customer service numbers here do not operate 24/7). So I did what I often do in confusing situations -- I called my neighbors. They were able to come up with a number that I called and, fortunately, the guy spoke English. He cut off the credit card but said that I would need to go to my local branch to contest the charges.
That particular Monday I had stayed home to work and rest a bit as I was feeling rather under the weather. In late afternoon, I remembered that I was supposed to go to "my" branch of the bank to settle the credit card matter, so I tried to get myself put together enough to go down there. I figured that it would be a rather quick visit and I felt good enough to at least do that. Alas, it was not a quick trip.
The banks here, or at least this branch, are not like most US banks. There are no tellers up in front. Instead, once you pass by the ATMs and statement printing machines in the foyer, there are two regular desks. I approached the first one and asked if she spoke English. Nope. So I attempted to explain the situation in German. It was not easy. She asked for verification that this particular branch was my home branch (perhaps in an attempt to pawn the English-speaker off on some other branch) and then finally called for the person at the other desk to assist me.
This other individual, Linda, is the one who was assigned to me when I opened my account, apparently, though I had not met her in person. She is rather young, which I thought might increase the chances that she spoke English. Unfortunately, she didn't seem too comfortable speaking English, either, but I restated in German the problem, she logged into my account and quickly saw the problem I was describing.
She had to print out a claim form (which was in English and German, thankfully) for each of the 20+ charges from Canada. As she was printing out those forms, I did some research on the BlackBerry's limited browser to try and see if I could figure out what some of the vendors were. The ones like McDonald's and Wal-Mart and the myriad gas stations didn't require explanation, but some others were less straightforward. Here are a few highlights of the great week someone had with my credit card. Sounds like a good time -- wish I could have been there to see this in action.
Two visits to a fur store - €3,500
Four visits to a store that appears to be a photography equipment shop - €4,000
Various shoe stores - €700
Fine dining - €400
Seeing a well-heeled photographer out on the town combating the Canadian winter with a fur or two - priceless.
It's not clear what, exactly, happened, but the bank suspects that while I was in the US, the information on my credit card's magnetic strip was recorded while it was swiped. Someone then took that information and wrote it to a new, blank card, and then sold or used the card. While it's pretty easy to see from charges on my current account that I was indeed in Germany during the time these charges were made and a quick review of the signatures from Canada will undoubtedly not match mine given the odd way my first name is spelled, it nevertheless will take at least four weeks for this to be resolved.
In the meantime, I understood from Linda that I would not be charged for the disputed items. Um, wrong. I looked at my current account balance the other day and the entire amount of the credit card balance had been settled against my current account, leaving me with a negative balance. Even though apparently you are allowed to have a negative balance here up to your limit, I am not pleased as this makes me feel like some sort of deadbeat. I am even less pleased that my emails questioning this settlement have not been returned. Let's hope that there is no need for me to create a Part 3 of this series....
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
27 September 2009 - What's more German than an international auto show?
[Rihanna, "Shut Up and Drive."]
Frankfurt is the host of the International Auto Show. THE auto show. I have always enjoyed the Chicago Auto Show, but this is in an entirely different class and spread across multiple buildings. So having a complimentary ticket courtesy of my boss and a colleague who was interested in going was a bonus.
Now, the cars were good, but I think the ways that the different companies market them is nearly as interesting. In particular, the way in which women are used in the selling of cars fascinates me. I mean, we've all seen the pictures from past auto shows of scantily clad women "demonstrating" the features of the cars. But that's in the past, right, and women are valued for their knowledge of cars, right? Well.... Read on for some highlights by some of the brands (oddly enough, no sign of Honda, Nissan or Mitsubishi at the show) and these attendants who I will refer to simply as the ladies.
Kia - I find the Soul quite charming, including its external optical features that can be customized, not unlike some of the Mini options.
Volvo - I thought the motorized rear hatch of the XC60 was impressively quiet. Not a bad ride. Volvo also offered a free USB thumb drive that you could plug in and try to win. We lost. The booth was at least partially staffed by Swedes, which I thought was quite genuine.
Mazda - An excellent selection of Preuscher Blue cars on display. The ladies were kind enough to take photos of attendees in the MX-5 with an impressive 12-second hardtop retraction. Said ladies were wearing purple dresses with 80s-era thick black belts.
Suzuki - Underwhelming cars, but the ladies' black denimish dresses with white off-set racing stripe worn with slouch legwarmers over Converse All-Stars was interesting. The dresses would match the Kia Soul.
Renault - Interesting concept cars -- one looked like a Mac or an iPod that could be driven, another looked like a fly getting ready to take off. The ladies in the futuristic area looked like they were standing by for a Korean Air interview or were resting in between shifts on the USS Enterprise spa -- flowing white pants and eggshell blue smocks. Gotta wonder who wants to be the guy at Renault whose job is cleaning the black scuff marks on their white matte floor. He seemed pretty busy.
Dacia - No stereo included? Seriously?
Ford - Keyless non-entry for energy car (it was locked) with right-side steering -- weird thing to have in Germany. Dresses of the ladies were somewhat ugly and seemed difficult to put on. Not that we tried. Ford Ka has seating that can be customized (must be for the younger generation that adds colored covers to their phones and all), including a tattoo style imprint. Mondeo still seems to have faux wood finishes -- some things never change.
Lamborghini - Like most of the high-end brands, you can't approach the vehicles. There were too many people snapping pictures to see if there were ladies on hand.
Bentley - A laminated wooden floor with three cars, no access, and the sales guys just standing there. Weird. There is a Bentley Collection Shop that appears to be accessible to mere mortals.
Audi - The Audi shop was disappointing. I'm thinking they need a woman's ring with the four interlocking Audi rings. I am disturbed by the number of orange/rust-colored Audis that were on display in the area. I still don't "get" the A5 sportback. They had a me
tallic/chromy (not sure if it was polished aluminum or what) R8 that looked rather blingy but reminded me a bit of a shinier Back to the Future car. The ladies (and men) were generally wearing muted blacks, gray and white. One exception was the lady in the limited-access area with the e-tron concept car and R8 cabrio who were more true to the typical auto show mold (very short dresses and the high heels), but they were not displayed on the hoods of the vehicles themselves. Audi Bank was there in case you couldn't wait another second to have an Audi. Alas, the "International Customer Services" area was unable to hook me up with an English language owners manual for Hudson (my local dealer has still failed to follow through on this).
tallic/chromy (not sure if it was polished aluminum or what) R8 that looked rather blingy but reminded me a bit of a shinier Back to the Future car. The ladies (and men) were generally wearing muted blacks, gray and white. One exception was the lady in the limited-access area with the e-tron concept car and R8 cabrio who were more true to the typical auto show mold (very short dresses and the high heels), but they were not displayed on the hoods of the vehicles themselves. Audi Bank was there in case you couldn't wait another second to have an Audi. Alas, the "International Customer Services" area was unable to hook me up with an English language owners manual for Hudson (my local dealer has still failed to follow through on this). Seat - The ladies were wearing a form-fitting bizarre black and white patterned dress worn with black hosiery. Not particularly flattering but certainly distinctive. The cars had interesting plastic textures - like the pattern I would associate with carbon fiber, but in plastic. Lots of overhead storage. The flip down trays in the back seat (no pun intended) are handy and with cupholders built in. It is unclear whether they must be stowed for takeoff. From a design perspective, I like the above rear seat latches that are sculpted out of the rear window panel rather than being within the metal of the door below the window.
VW - Eos available in beautiful blue GT. I was not aware that the Scirocco is back.... The ladies were wearing basic black skirts and crisp white shirts. No-nonsense and professional.
Skoda - Great mascot, as evidenced by his willingness to hold the Sarah Palin action figure for a photo (see Facebook album of Sarah for the latest). The uniforms of the ladies were interesting -- charcoal skirt, lime green shirt and silverish vest thing - with lime green belt. Hmmm.... The exhibit did have a kind of slot machine game where you pull a lever and win -- in my case, a parkschein, which I have been wanting (you put it in your window to indicate when you parked in the parking space so the meter reader can tell whether you have overstayed the limit -- love the honor system).
All of these brands and others were from just the first two halls we visited. En route to the next stop, we decided to stop off at a hall that boasted, among other things, a "Ladies Corner." Well, that immediately had me thinking I would see Tim Meadows, the Ladies Man from Saturday Night Live there, or at least some quick manicures, moisturizer samples, or mazybe even a chair massage. So we rushed on over. I cannot begin to tell you how disappointing the reality was. There was literally a woman there dressed up as a cleaning lady complete with a bandanna tied around her head with a bin full of cleaning supplies and some sort of coupon for something. There was also a display of GPS devices. What, like women don't know how to drive and only clean? Ugh. So on to the next hall.
Maserati - One of their cars was a beautiful blue (of course!) color. The friend who went with me, codename D-D, loves Maserati and sweet-talked the guy at the rope to let her in and even convinced him to take a picture of her in the convertible. Nice work!
Lancia - The theme of the exhibit revolved around chalkboards and chalk drawings. I suppose that is the connection between the ladies being dressed as, more or less, naughty school girls -- short skirts, white shirts, a sagging black tie, and tights just above the knee. Perhaps not surprising that the cars didn't appeal to me either.
Fiat - Fiat was located next to Lancia and continued the youthful theme, but did so in a much more innocent way. The background of their area was composed of whimsical pastel children's drawings (drawn in a smaller scale by real children as shown in videos -- no child labor seems to have been involved in the building of the large scale actual background). They also had astroturf areas with flower-shaped tables for even more whimsy. The ladies did seem somewhat related to the Lancia ladies, but a bit more classy I suppose - short plaid skirts and vests and red Converse All-Stars. The cars are small but with character. And I give them high marks for the items in their store that are directed towards women -- including a really cute but overpriced little purse that looks like the front of a Fiat on one side and the back of a Fiat on the other side.
Alfa Romeo - Continuing the youthful example of Lancia and Fiat, Alfa Romeo's exhibit was made out of giant sized creations from the erector set that I remember my brother playing with as a kid building cranes and stuff. Alas, they did not have many actual cars to sit in, so we moved on quickly.
Hyundai - I can only describe Hyundai as the "Hooters" of the IAA. They literally had a woman sitting in a car on a rotating pedestal looking pretty and showing off long legs. It's a HYUNDAI for crying out loud! Uniform? Satiny shorts, glittery halter top, heels, and very blonde. I think I saw Heidi with her long braids..... In the sports section, it was slightly better with black jeans and a white blingy halter top and more sensible shoes. I did like their Blue Will concept car with a steering wheel that seems more like a yoke on an airplane.
Abarth - I had not heard of them before. It is apparently another Italian company and has some relation to racing. Uniforms? Heeled red leather boots, white tights, and a short knit red and white dress/smock of some sort that kind of looks like a racing flag.
Porsche - Handsome cars, often in nice blues, but many were locked. All reps were male with a matching tie and pocket square. There were a few ladies. Their job was apparently to just look pretty as they were not even issued name tags!! However, a quick conversation with one of them indicated they actually know a great deal about the cars, features, prices, etc. They were wearing somewhat simple linen dresses with a scarf matching the ties of the guys, with the effect of making them look like flight attendants (not to be confused with Renault).
Artega - Beautiful vehicles. Wish they weren't cut off from the masses.
Toyota - A very white space with nearly all of the cars in the front section being white. Additionall, the ladies were wearing very nice looking white suits with a crisp white blouse with tiny red stripes and a sport shoe that looks like it would actually be comfortable for spending hours on one's feet. We think overall these were the best and most professional ensembles we saw the ladies of the IAA wearing.
Saab - Very few cars in their area and many were locked. They're just Saabs.... Casual uniform for the ladies - black jeans, gray jacket, reddish t-shirt.
Mini - Mini is celebrating 50 years complete with DJ and a sparkling water bar (the Mini Lounge). Attire was typically youthful for the brand - jeans and a whitish t-shirt for both men and women.
BMW - The largest digs in the show must belong to BMW. Huge area. They had an interesting Vision concept car, but it was difficult to get close to it was it was near the "fashion show" of vehicles driven around on the indoor track. All but the ladies standing by the concept car are wearing kind of ugly taupe pant suits belted with a dark lavendar color. Not nearly so nice as Toyota.
Rolls Royce - The hideously painted Ghost model has suicide doors. Haven't seen that on a car in ages. The cars were, of course, inaccessible to the masses, but I give RR snaps for having the most normal looking woman among the attendants. It was refreshing, though some leggy blondes were also loitering at the gate to the VIP lounge. Otherwise, a bunch of guys in ties standing around.
Benz - Their space was, like BMWs, a tri-level structure. They also had an interesting interior structure covered in an interesting white fabric that could be used for projection and it also apparently served as an environmental control. However, they should consider hiring the floor guy from Renault as their white floors were terribly scuffed. Simple uniforms - dark skirts, white blouses, and a scarf kind of like BMW. Plastic name tags for both men and women struck me as tacky, particularly as compared with the other major players. Lots of security.
So that's pretty much it. Can't wait to head back next year!
Monday, September 7, 2009
13 September 2009 - Co-existence of Politics and Music
["I Don't Recall" from Melissa Dunphy's Gonzales Cantata.]
Many of you are aware of the importance of music in my life. While I really enjoyed performing back in my high school and university years, in recent years it has been a more passive experience of attending the performances of others (how I miss those season tickets to the Lyric Opera and the Symphony Center Jazz Series in Chicago). But every once in a while I would be moved to sit down and play the piano or, in the more rare cases, drag out Arthur (somehow I knew you wouldn't be surprised that I named my clarinet, a handsome Buffet R-13b, Arthur deriving from R-thir(teen)).
I have a Yamaha Clavinova keyboard that is probably about 10 years ago but that still served my purposes well. Good piano sound and feeling, never needs tuning, and I can play it as loud as I want whenever because it has a headphone output option. All good. Except that it uses US power current, so not a good idea to bring it over here and my Mom is now enjoying it.
I thought this wouldn't be a big deal, but every once in a while I just get the desire to go play the piano and then realize that I don't have one here. And last weekend I realized that I cannot live for four years without the ability to create music (I don't consider my harmonica efforts to be a creative effort that would qualify as music, alas). So I went online and identified a piano store called Stollenwerk (www.pianostollenwerk.de, if you're in the market or if you want to see some really cool external tile/brick work) that carries Yamahas and drove over there. While they do carry Yamaha, they only carry acoustic pianos. The guy I was talking with was very friendly and helpful, though, and even introduced me to the concept of the "silent" piano from Yamaha -- an acoustic piano that also has the ability to port the music through headphones. Alas, I can't imagine trying to move a piano back to the US. The guy was nice enough to refer me to a place called Schmidt Music that is just up the road from my local Hornbach hardware store, but which somehow I had not seen before.
I was, to put it mildly, overwhelmed by the options at Schmidt and had no idea where to start. And a quick look made it clear that electronic pianos/keyboards have come a long way in the last 10 years. More than a few of the Yamahas had what I can only describe as a cockpit-like dashboard, including a LCD screen that's larger than the one on my first laptop. Given that I have no intention of becoming neither DJ Jazzy Preuscher while I am over here nor taking up a musical composition career, I think I'm safer with a more moderate model. Which models are still quite impressive.
So, I have now purchased a new Yamaha, though it will not be delivered for a couple of weeks. Which is good, since I have to figure out where to put it in my small-by-American-standards apartment.
But back to the more passive ways in which I enjoy music. Since my arrival here, I have yet to actually attend a formal musical performance, but given the number of posters I have seen for some great sounding fare, I am excited about the possibilities here. First, I have to figure out how to buy tickets in advance! Until then, I live vicariously through iTunes. This applies to both classical music (favorite recent purchases are the albums "Appalachia Walz" with Edgar Meyer, Mark O'Connor and Yo-Yo Ma, "Humoresque" by Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg) as well as pop (where new favorites include "Electric Arguments" by The Fireman (aka Sir Paul McCartney), "Bible Belt" by Diane Birch, "It's Not Me, It's You" by Lily Allen, and a few more Lady GaGa singles than I should probably admit).
However, that said, let me be clear that I think the new iTunes interface STINKS! I cannot find a way to browse new classical releases to save my soul. Do they not want to sell music? Because let's be honest, pushing Jay-Z, The Doors and a deluxe version of the Norah Jones album I already have is not making me want to linger on their site. It just makes me angry.
Not enough to make me totally cut myself off from the other audio delight I receive through iTunes. Podcasts. Political/news podcasts. I may be on the other side of the pond, but I am still quite interested in the politics and related insanity going on in the U.S. So I download podcasts, copy them to an SD Card and then pop that card into Hudson and listen to the podcasts as I drive around. I started out with the Sunday morning talk shows (Meet the Press, Face the Nation, This Week, and even Fox News Sunday) as well as Washington Week from Friday nights. But then I kept seeing references from one of my favorite Twitterers (yes, the same one who introduced me to Massweiler) about Rachel Maddow, so I began following that, too. Maddow requires a bit more committment as it is a nightly show which somehow causes me to not get through all the Sunday shows before the next show (not surprisingly, Fox News is often the victim). But the show amuses me, particularly with some of its Moments of Geek.
Which brings me to my newest source of classical music. (No, there's not a paragraph missing in there. The Rachel Maddow Show has introduced me to new music. Something not even the might iTunes itself can apparently do anymore.) Political music. No, I'm not talking about the "music to my ears" of politics in action (because there is simply no harmony in that these days). But the simple joys of setting politics to music.
About two weeks ago, Maddow mentioned on her show the Gonzales Cantata (www.gonzalescantata.com). Yes, Alberto Gonzales. No, he wasn't singing himself as his predecessor is so famous for (though who didn't find "Let the Eagle Soar" wildly fascinating??!). Rather, it is written by a young Australian composer, Melissa Dunphy, and is based on the testimony of Alberto Gonzales to the Senate Judiciary Committee. In that particular hearing, all of the major parties involved were male, with the exception of Dianne Feinstein (I think). Apparently it is easier to get a lot of good sopranos to perform a cantata than it is to hire all men and one woman, all gender roles have been reversed. So imagine the joy of listening to "I don't recall" being sung by a soprano. Simply delightful. The tracks can be listened to on the website (as well as, sigh, downloaded from iTunes). The cantata's music itself (or perhaps it was just a bad performance) leaves a bit to be desired at times, but the overall work remains amusing and compelling listening.
I thought this must be the only political classical performance available, but I was wrong. Last week Maddow had an update on the Moment of Geek about two other such works. The first is a John Adam's opera, "Nixon in China" (video of Act 1, Scene 1 is available on YouTube, and even features Air Force One (pre 747 days) as part of the scene). And then there is "Three Rumsfeld Songs" by Phil Kline (downloadable from bangonacan.org). I am so hooked.
Many of you are aware of the importance of music in my life. While I really enjoyed performing back in my high school and university years, in recent years it has been a more passive experience of attending the performances of others (how I miss those season tickets to the Lyric Opera and the Symphony Center Jazz Series in Chicago). But every once in a while I would be moved to sit down and play the piano or, in the more rare cases, drag out Arthur (somehow I knew you wouldn't be surprised that I named my clarinet, a handsome Buffet R-13b, Arthur deriving from R-thir(teen)).
I have a Yamaha Clavinova keyboard that is probably about 10 years ago but that still served my purposes well. Good piano sound and feeling, never needs tuning, and I can play it as loud as I want whenever because it has a headphone output option. All good. Except that it uses US power current, so not a good idea to bring it over here and my Mom is now enjoying it.
I thought this wouldn't be a big deal, but every once in a while I just get the desire to go play the piano and then realize that I don't have one here. And last weekend I realized that I cannot live for four years without the ability to create music (I don't consider my harmonica efforts to be a creative effort that would qualify as music, alas). So I went online and identified a piano store called Stollenwerk (www.pianostollenwerk.de, if you're in the market or if you want to see some really cool external tile/brick work) that carries Yamahas and drove over there. While they do carry Yamaha, they only carry acoustic pianos. The guy I was talking with was very friendly and helpful, though, and even introduced me to the concept of the "silent" piano from Yamaha -- an acoustic piano that also has the ability to port the music through headphones. Alas, I can't imagine trying to move a piano back to the US. The guy was nice enough to refer me to a place called Schmidt Music that is just up the road from my local Hornbach hardware store, but which somehow I had not seen before.
I was, to put it mildly, overwhelmed by the options at Schmidt and had no idea where to start. And a quick look made it clear that electronic pianos/keyboards have come a long way in the last 10 years. More than a few of the Yamahas had what I can only describe as a cockpit-like dashboard, including a LCD screen that's larger than the one on my first laptop. Given that I have no intention of becoming neither DJ Jazzy Preuscher while I am over here nor taking up a musical composition career, I think I'm safer with a more moderate model. Which models are still quite impressive.
So, I have now purchased a new Yamaha, though it will not be delivered for a couple of weeks. Which is good, since I have to figure out where to put it in my small-by-American-standards apartment.
But back to the more passive ways in which I enjoy music. Since my arrival here, I have yet to actually attend a formal musical performance, but given the number of posters I have seen for some great sounding fare, I am excited about the possibilities here. First, I have to figure out how to buy tickets in advance! Until then, I live vicariously through iTunes. This applies to both classical music (favorite recent purchases are the albums "Appalachia Walz" with Edgar Meyer, Mark O'Connor and Yo-Yo Ma, "Humoresque" by Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg) as well as pop (where new favorites include "Electric Arguments" by The Fireman (aka Sir Paul McCartney), "Bible Belt" by Diane Birch, "It's Not Me, It's You" by Lily Allen, and a few more Lady GaGa singles than I should probably admit).
However, that said, let me be clear that I think the new iTunes interface STINKS! I cannot find a way to browse new classical releases to save my soul. Do they not want to sell music? Because let's be honest, pushing Jay-Z, The Doors and a deluxe version of the Norah Jones album I already have is not making me want to linger on their site. It just makes me angry.
Not enough to make me totally cut myself off from the other audio delight I receive through iTunes. Podcasts. Political/news podcasts. I may be on the other side of the pond, but I am still quite interested in the politics and related insanity going on in the U.S. So I download podcasts, copy them to an SD Card and then pop that card into Hudson and listen to the podcasts as I drive around. I started out with the Sunday morning talk shows (Meet the Press, Face the Nation, This Week, and even Fox News Sunday) as well as Washington Week from Friday nights. But then I kept seeing references from one of my favorite Twitterers (yes, the same one who introduced me to Massweiler) about Rachel Maddow, so I began following that, too. Maddow requires a bit more committment as it is a nightly show which somehow causes me to not get through all the Sunday shows before the next show (not surprisingly, Fox News is often the victim). But the show amuses me, particularly with some of its Moments of Geek.
Which brings me to my newest source of classical music. (No, there's not a paragraph missing in there. The Rachel Maddow Show has introduced me to new music. Something not even the might iTunes itself can apparently do anymore.) Political music. No, I'm not talking about the "music to my ears" of politics in action (because there is simply no harmony in that these days). But the simple joys of setting politics to music.
About two weeks ago, Maddow mentioned on her show the Gonzales Cantata (www.gonzalescantata.com). Yes, Alberto Gonzales. No, he wasn't singing himself as his predecessor is so famous for (though who didn't find "Let the Eagle Soar" wildly fascinating??!). Rather, it is written by a young Australian composer, Melissa Dunphy, and is based on the testimony of Alberto Gonzales to the Senate Judiciary Committee. In that particular hearing, all of the major parties involved were male, with the exception of Dianne Feinstein (I think). Apparently it is easier to get a lot of good sopranos to perform a cantata than it is to hire all men and one woman, all gender roles have been reversed. So imagine the joy of listening to "I don't recall" being sung by a soprano. Simply delightful. The tracks can be listened to on the website (as well as, sigh, downloaded from iTunes). The cantata's music itself (or perhaps it was just a bad performance) leaves a bit to be desired at times, but the overall work remains amusing and compelling listening.
I thought this must be the only political classical performance available, but I was wrong. Last week Maddow had an update on the Moment of Geek about two other such works. The first is a John Adam's opera, "Nixon in China" (video of Act 1, Scene 1 is available on YouTube, and even features Air Force One (pre 747 days) as part of the scene). And then there is "Three Rumsfeld Songs" by Phil Kline (downloadable from bangonacan.org). I am so hooked.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
5 September 2009 - Kindling
I don't think that I have taken the opportunity to explain the beauty of my simple first generation Amazon Kindle. Since the device is central to this blog, allow me to explain briefly the device and my potentially irrational dependence and affection for the little slab of whitish plastic and not quite liquid crystal screen.
For those not familiar with the Kindle, it is an electronic book reader. Sony had one first but Amazon added several technologies that were absent from the Sony reader and coupled it with a direct link to the Amazon book distribution mechanism. It is larger than the small paperbacks but smaller than hardcovers. I think that Amazon claims that it can hold about 120 books on the device without using additional memory. It can also host audio books (but what's the point, really, as an audible book would be much better on an iPod). It has an onboard dictionary so you can highlight a line of text and it will look up the key words on that line. It has a very basic web browser. You can add notes and bookmarks, of course, and can even have some clips emailed to you. There are also about 5 different font sizes, so you can increase them when you're, for example, on the treadmill.
The device uses a technology called electronic ink that is markedly (no pun intended) different from the display of a regular computer screen etc. The screen is not backlit, so it can be read outside in direct sunlight. This electronic ink technology also significantly increases the battery life. I have found that I can be reading all day on vacation and not have to charge more than overnight, which is pretty good. Not to mention that when I go on vacation I don't have to figure out which books to take and leave behind based on how far I am and what I might want to read while on holiday.....
The coolest feature by far, though, is that books are downloaded wirelessly to the device within about a minute of ordering them. And you can browse the Kindle store of books on Amazon wirelessly on the device, which device is linked to your Amazon.com one-click settings. So I could literally be on the beach, ask you what you're reading, look it up and download it all within about a minute.
All this, plus the books are less expensive than the printed versions and you save the environment. When I lived in the US, I found it particularly nice for newspapers. Not only were the Kindle versions less expensive (I paid $27.99 per month for Saturday and Sunday home delivery of the NY Times, but could get it electronically every day on the Kindle for only $12.99 or so), but I received delivery wherever I was and never had to worry about stop notices for the newspaper or dealing with unread papers upon my return.
So with that as background, you can imagine how I would love this device -- cheaper, electronic, less baggage space. What's not to like? Well, there is one small drawback. Amazon chose to partner with Sprint for electronic delivery. Problem is, Sprint doesn't have a global network. So essentially you can only get electronic delivery within the continental United States. Hmmm.... That does not include Germany, in case you were wondering.
So there is a backstop measure. You can download content to your computer (as you would have to do with a Sony in any event, at least until their newest offering) and then push it to you Kindle. Not ideal, but in a country where English language books are not easy to come across, still a good deal. (And especially when dollars are so cheap in Euros!)
So the Kindle has been my cheap and easy connection to US political and other reading since I arrived. Until its untimely freeze this past freeze. It has a sort of "mouse" and related pointer area within the device and said device became nonfunctional on Friday. I tried restarting and even resetting the device, but to no avail. The main screen looked fine, but I was unable to use the "mouse" to select a book, so I was unable to read anything. Ruh roh.
Yesterday, I sent a message to the Amazon Kindle online help line and they asked me to call them, which I did. The dude, Blake (seriouslz?), was nice enough but, after suggesting that I reset the device (as if I hadn't thought of that before) declared the device inoperable and out of warranty. But, out of the goodness of his heart, he would be able to give me a credit towards the purchase of a new device. Except they could not ship said new device to Germany. I declined.
This morning, I tried a few other things that I thought might revive the Kindle (oddly, I haven't given it an individual name, which will register as odd with those who have read the rest of this blog, ala Bonnie, Hudson, etc.). Alas, none of them worked. So I did the thing I do when I am most frustrated with my laptop. I pulled the power plug and yanked the battery. After a long wake-up, the Kindle is just fine. No issues. New Kindle? I don't think so, "Blake."
For those not familiar with the Kindle, it is an electronic book reader. Sony had one first but Amazon added several technologies that were absent from the Sony reader and coupled it with a direct link to the Amazon book distribution mechanism. It is larger than the small paperbacks but smaller than hardcovers. I think that Amazon claims that it can hold about 120 books on the device without using additional memory. It can also host audio books (but what's the point, really, as an audible book would be much better on an iPod). It has an onboard dictionary so you can highlight a line of text and it will look up the key words on that line. It has a very basic web browser. You can add notes and bookmarks, of course, and can even have some clips emailed to you. There are also about 5 different font sizes, so you can increase them when you're, for example, on the treadmill.
The device uses a technology called electronic ink that is markedly (no pun intended) different from the display of a regular computer screen etc. The screen is not backlit, so it can be read outside in direct sunlight. This electronic ink technology also significantly increases the battery life. I have found that I can be reading all day on vacation and not have to charge more than overnight, which is pretty good. Not to mention that when I go on vacation I don't have to figure out which books to take and leave behind based on how far I am and what I might want to read while on holiday.....
The coolest feature by far, though, is that books are downloaded wirelessly to the device within about a minute of ordering them. And you can browse the Kindle store of books on Amazon wirelessly on the device, which device is linked to your Amazon.com one-click settings. So I could literally be on the beach, ask you what you're reading, look it up and download it all within about a minute.
All this, plus the books are less expensive than the printed versions and you save the environment. When I lived in the US, I found it particularly nice for newspapers. Not only were the Kindle versions less expensive (I paid $27.99 per month for Saturday and Sunday home delivery of the NY Times, but could get it electronically every day on the Kindle for only $12.99 or so), but I received delivery wherever I was and never had to worry about stop notices for the newspaper or dealing with unread papers upon my return.
So with that as background, you can imagine how I would love this device -- cheaper, electronic, less baggage space. What's not to like? Well, there is one small drawback. Amazon chose to partner with Sprint for electronic delivery. Problem is, Sprint doesn't have a global network. So essentially you can only get electronic delivery within the continental United States. Hmmm.... That does not include Germany, in case you were wondering.
So there is a backstop measure. You can download content to your computer (as you would have to do with a Sony in any event, at least until their newest offering) and then push it to you Kindle. Not ideal, but in a country where English language books are not easy to come across, still a good deal. (And especially when dollars are so cheap in Euros!)
So the Kindle has been my cheap and easy connection to US political and other reading since I arrived. Until its untimely freeze this past freeze. It has a sort of "mouse" and related pointer area within the device and said device became nonfunctional on Friday. I tried restarting and even resetting the device, but to no avail. The main screen looked fine, but I was unable to use the "mouse" to select a book, so I was unable to read anything. Ruh roh.
Yesterday, I sent a message to the Amazon Kindle online help line and they asked me to call them, which I did. The dude, Blake (seriouslz?), was nice enough but, after suggesting that I reset the device (as if I hadn't thought of that before) declared the device inoperable and out of warranty. But, out of the goodness of his heart, he would be able to give me a credit towards the purchase of a new device. Except they could not ship said new device to Germany. I declined.
This morning, I tried a few other things that I thought might revive the Kindle (oddly, I haven't given it an individual name, which will register as odd with those who have read the rest of this blog, ala Bonnie, Hudson, etc.). Alas, none of them worked. So I did the thing I do when I am most frustrated with my laptop. I pulled the power plug and yanked the battery. After a long wake-up, the Kindle is just fine. No issues. New Kindle? I don't think so, "Blake."
Sunday, August 23, 2009
23 August 20009 - Maßweiler
I felt the need the hit the open road for a few hours today and have begun a list of places to visit that are within just an hour or two of Frankfurt. One such place is the town (though perhaps village would be a better word) of Maßweiler.
Maßweiler is a village in an agriculture area in what I would call southwest Germany. (Wikipedia, on the other hand, notes that it is a "municipality in Südwestpfaltz district, in Rhinland-Palatinate, western Germany." Oddly enough, that is all Wikipedia has to say about Maßweiler.) Anyway, it is about 100 miles from Frankfurt, which, due to small roads the last 20 minutes or so (twisting, turning, narrow roads, I might add -- Hudson was in his element), took a little over 90 minutes. (I suppose it is only fair to note that Hudson was once again clocked at over 200 kph at several points throughout the autobahn stretches. Delightful day of driving.)
So what would draw me to this spot other than the search for a great driving road and the need to fill my midwestern lungs with fresh country air? Twitter. Yeah, that's right, Twitter. Long story, but someone I met on Twitter noted, when she learned I was living in Germany, that she had lived in Maßweiler for a few years during the 60s. She noted that the town has some caves that had been used by the Americans after World War II to store nuclear warheads. She described it as a quiet agricultural town that might be a good drive someday. And she was absolutely right.
I asked Hudson to take me to the city center, which was about, oh, 30-45 seconds into my 30 kph drive into the city. I didn't spot the usual city center types of things like a post office or even a store. I continued on and found a large church and another building that looked like it might be something but seemed to be described as a parking garage. I continued on just driving around randomly since there didn't really seem to be a good place to park and then just wander around on foot. I continued and then happened upon a cemetary. What better way to learn about a town than through its cemetary.
I don't say that because I'm a morbid person or anything, just that in many US cemetaries you can get an idea who the big families are, a feel for particular difficult times for the town (e.g. disasters, wars, or diseases that seem to cause a lot of deaths in a relatively short period of town), as well as about the people based on what they inscribe on the tombstones.
Well, this cemetary was a bit different than what I am used to. For starters, it seems to be a relatively new cemetary with tombstones primarily dating from the 70s and on. I didn't find a single old stone that was so weathered that you could no longer read the stone. To the contrary, each headstone (which is an understatement as I will explain shortly) seemed to be in very pristine condition in a shiny, conditioned marble with inscriptions seemingly added to the stones rather than being engraved into the stone itself. And they were primarily just names and dates of birth and death, rather than any inscriptions about the life the person led. For example, I might normally expect something like "Loving father and husband" or something like that. the only thing close was the German translation of "Here lies with God..."
The headstones themselves were quite interesting. Instead of just a headstone, they also had either a solid flat panel of granite or other 
stone that covered the entire grave site, or what amounted to a beautiful stone border surrounding a patch of earth transformed into a beautiful garden. These gardens were incredibly beautiful and varied, as if describing the beauty and type of life lived by the person interred in the particular grave. Some had bushes, others were rock gardens. The ground was entirely covered in beautiful flowering plants in some cases and in others by dark earth carefully raked in the manner of a Japanese garden. Many had a special place for a candle or lantern and one even had a small bird bath engraved into the stone. And as in American cemetaries that I am more familiar with, there were, in many cases, also double or triple sized graves, for both husband and wife and perhaps a child. I did not see a single mausoleum (I think that's the right word) for a family, though. As with churches (even without a flash), I struggle on whether it is disrespectful to take photos of cemetaries. I made an exception here because it seems like such a celebration of life. However, I may be entirely wrong here since I know nothing about German cemetary practices. (And if you click on the photo and see it in a larger window, you can also get an idea of the idyllic town that lies beneath it.)
After this brief stop, I headed back into the town and stopped to take a picture of the parkhaus kind of place that still looks like it should be a restaurant. As I got out of the car and turned to face the building, I found myself also facing a gray-haired man and woman looking out of said building at the far end and watching me with a great deal of interest. As I've explained before, the license plates of cars indicate where they are from, so some chick showing up in a handsome A5 (not exactly an agricultural vehicle) with MTK license plates would elicit the same response in Germany as in the U.S. -- "You ain't from around these here parts, are ya'?" I waved at them, took my picture, and drove on. I found a parking place by the church and started walking on foot.
I encountered only one other person on my 10 minute walk, a young woman walking on the other side of the street. She, too, looked at me with a bit of suspicion, but gave me a hearty "Guten Tag!" which I returned in my best German as I pretended to belong. Alas, there wasn't really all that much to see, so I headed out of town shortly thereafter. And that's where the town's true beauty is -- the small village set against a patchwork of hay fields, stands of trees, round bales of hay, green fields, plowed fields and everything in between. The photo at the top as one enters the town perhaps captures that beauty best, though it doesn't contain the village itself.
Alas, no sign of or to the caves. However, there were plenty of signs in the nearby highway to both Ramstein and Landstuhl -- large US air base and hospital -- so I'm sure someone still has an eye on them....
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
29 July 2009 - Barney, Part 2
As a follow-up to the closet installation post, allow me to share installment two of the Barney series.
Recall that when I first moved into my apartment back in February, I bought a small (by current TV standards) 26" flat screen TV from Barney. It was on sale, I thought I needed a TV (not realizing at the time that most of the satellite programming I got at the apartment would be in German), so it was a done deal.
The general idea was that once the closet was installed, I would move that 26" TV into the bedroom and purchase a larger TV for the living room. At that point I still had not determined what the setup for the living room would be since it is an odd shape and the placement of the satellite jack was on the smallest wall in the entire room and the worst possible place to put a TV. And, as discussed in the posting about lighting, the exterior walls and some of the interior walls are made of a solid chalk block, so it's not as if I can pull the cable through the wall and create a jack in a more convenient place. And just forget about surround sound unless you want visible wires everywhere.
So fast forward to about two months ago. I knew that the closet system was scheduled for installation and it was time to think about the larger TV. (As a side note, I don't actually watch much TV, especially since there isn't, for example, a channel over here that runs Law & Order re-runs nearly continuously, which would lure me in like a strange siren's song.) So I began shopping. The last time I actually shopped for a TV was about two years ago when I got my flat panel TV for my place in Chicago. Flat panels were not nearly so ubiquitous then as they are now and prices had not yet begun to drop. That's the good news. The bad news is that there are a lot more models to choose from and, like most things in Europe, TV prices here are more expensive than in the US. And then there's the matter of all of the technical specifications being in German. I mean, it's easy enough to figure out size (though some list the size in centimeters, which takes some getting used to) and resolution and whether it has HDMI slots, but some of the rest like the brand-specific features are a bit confusing.
Hmmmm.... Who could help me with all of these confusing things and work with me in English? Oh yes...Barney!
I decided that if I was going to invest this much in a TV, I wanted to be able to take it back to the US with me when I was done. And I wanted something large, but not gigantaur. So I told Barney that it was important that the TV have a removable power cord that could be exchanged for one that would work in the US without the need for a converter. (I should note that my brother, Seth, graciously volunteered to take the US flat screen off my hands so that it wouldn't sit idle in storage for four long years. He admitted later that he figured that by the time I returned, I'd want something newer than that TV anyway. He's probably right. The joke may be on him, though, as once he installed the TV it started mysteriously just going on strike every once in a while. Crazy Dutch (Phillips) technology....)
TV stations in Germany also broadcast in a different way (I don't know the specifics related to this) than US stations (aside from the whole digital thing, which is a different battle). I was less concerned about this, though, since the likelihood of my having the new TV in a place in the US where I would have neither cable nor satellite service was slim to none. I also wanted a model that could be serviced in the US, if necessary. This, somewhat unfortunately, removed from consideration the German-manufactured Loewe (not to be confused with Lowe's home stores, cinemas or hotels) TVs that have some of the crispest pictures I've ever seen but are nearly twice as expensive as the other brands. Anyway, Barney said he would do some research for me. Love it.
While he was doing this, something entirely unexpected happened. My mom, from whom I'm pretty sure neither Seth nor I received our gadget/technology obsession gene, bought a new TV. A flat panel TV, of course. Seth installed it on the wall for her and she said everyone who came over remarked on how nice and large it was. This made me curious. As far as I know, she generally watches romantic comedies, Hallmark movies and, occasionally, Vegetales flicks with my nieces. (Mom, feel free to add a comment to the blog to clarify.) Not really into action flicks with special effects. So when it was rumored that she had purchased a 46" beast, the gadget chick in me suddenly felt a bit challenged. I'm not generally a keep-up-with-the-Joneses kind of person, but I mean, if my Mom had that big of a TV....
When I went back to see Barney, a beautiful sight greeted me. Multiple signs saying something like "Reduziert" which I interpreted as reductions or a SALE!!!! Woohoo!! Turns out that EP Fischer's fiscal year ended on June 30 so, like most companies, they tried to reduce inventory so there was less inventory to have to count. (And you know how we auditors do so love a good inventory-taking....) Even the big flat panel TVs were on sale. Very, very good.
Barney had indeed performed some research and it seemed like the best bet based on my criteria listed above for me would be a Sony TV. The question was, which one? I looked at the 46" size and it was, quite simply, gigantic. I could not comprehend it in my living room without feeling like I would be standing on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise (which would be cool, but not very realistic). The price for the 46" Sony Bravia with 100Hz frame rate was the same as the 40" with 200Hz frame rate. And the latter would just fit a whole bunch better in my living room and was still huge relative to the 26" Samsung, if not to Mom's TV (though it turned out later, Mom only has a 42" TV, so I am not a total slacker). So I went with the 40". And Barney even cut me a deal on delivery since I am, literally, across the street from the store. (AND, with the "savings" from the sale, I was able to buy a very cool new also-on-sale Tivoli Audio iSongBook docking station, complete with amazing sound (I would expect no less from them), an excellent remote control, surprisingly good radio reception, the ability to charge my big iPod (alas, not my Mini), a detachable speaker on one side to create a better stereo effect, and battery compatibility and little plugs so I could, say, take this sound show to the beach or, closer to home, a bathtub area near me.)
And that should be the end of this story, though of course it is not. The day the TV was delivered, I felt the keen desire to test out the 200Hz Motionflow technology as well as the built-in speakers (I still can't figure out how I'd do surround sound, but hoped perhaps it would not be necessary to contemplate further). What better way to do that than through an in-home viewing of Ronin, which is an action-packed moved with some good special effects and with the most phenomenal car chase scenes featuring, of course, Audi! So I picked up the only DVD player they had in the store and which was also on sale. Sweet.
Um, yeah. Small issue. European DVD players play DVDs formatted for Region 2. The US (and, hence, my entire DVD collection -- which isn't saying much) are formatted for Region 1 viewing. Uhhh.... It was, by this time, Saturday night, so all stores were closed. I had noted, however, that there was the ability to connect a PC to the TV and I happened to have the right cord (the same one you would use to connect to a projecter for an office presentation). Only one problem -- that provided the video connection, but the audio was still coming through my laptop speakers, which wasn't exactly the experience I was looking for. I tried a variety of cords that I have that have an input to the laptop's headphone jack and that split into red and white TV inputs. None of them worked. I think that is because you have to change the input to PC and the red/white inputs relate to a Component input selection. Doh!!! I finally lugged the computer speakers with sub-woofer (described months ago in this blog) out into the living room and hooked that up and it worked like a charm, but wasn't exactly a long-term solution.
The next week I went to Media Markt to see if they had any DVD players that would play Region 1 DVDs. They did some checking on-line but, alas, the answer was no. I finally broke down and bought some Region 2 DVDs so I could test the TV. (I have to say, Miranda in "Der Teufel Trägt Prada" (yes, "The Devil Wears Prada") sounds so much more wicked when she's speaking German.) I believe that the Bourne movie I watched proved that the TV and its speakers would be fine for my viewing needs. But I still wanted to watch my US movies....
I was mentioning the problem to one of my colleagues and he said he thought his brother had purchased an inexpensive multi-regional DVD player and he would look into it. Later, he sent me links to two such devices on Amazon.de. For €30, how could I go wrong? Well, it turns out that the one that I bought (didn't really pay attention to the description on the web site since it was German) was used, but it arrived in good conditions and they even left the batteries in the gigantic remote. More importantly? It works like a charm.
Recall that when I first moved into my apartment back in February, I bought a small (by current TV standards) 26" flat screen TV from Barney. It was on sale, I thought I needed a TV (not realizing at the time that most of the satellite programming I got at the apartment would be in German), so it was a done deal.
The general idea was that once the closet was installed, I would move that 26" TV into the bedroom and purchase a larger TV for the living room. At that point I still had not determined what the setup for the living room would be since it is an odd shape and the placement of the satellite jack was on the smallest wall in the entire room and the worst possible place to put a TV. And, as discussed in the posting about lighting, the exterior walls and some of the interior walls are made of a solid chalk block, so it's not as if I can pull the cable through the wall and create a jack in a more convenient place. And just forget about surround sound unless you want visible wires everywhere.
So fast forward to about two months ago. I knew that the closet system was scheduled for installation and it was time to think about the larger TV. (As a side note, I don't actually watch much TV, especially since there isn't, for example, a channel over here that runs Law & Order re-runs nearly continuously, which would lure me in like a strange siren's song.) So I began shopping. The last time I actually shopped for a TV was about two years ago when I got my flat panel TV for my place in Chicago. Flat panels were not nearly so ubiquitous then as they are now and prices had not yet begun to drop. That's the good news. The bad news is that there are a lot more models to choose from and, like most things in Europe, TV prices here are more expensive than in the US. And then there's the matter of all of the technical specifications being in German. I mean, it's easy enough to figure out size (though some list the size in centimeters, which takes some getting used to) and resolution and whether it has HDMI slots, but some of the rest like the brand-specific features are a bit confusing.
Hmmmm.... Who could help me with all of these confusing things and work with me in English? Oh yes...Barney!
I decided that if I was going to invest this much in a TV, I wanted to be able to take it back to the US with me when I was done. And I wanted something large, but not gigantaur. So I told Barney that it was important that the TV have a removable power cord that could be exchanged for one that would work in the US without the need for a converter. (I should note that my brother, Seth, graciously volunteered to take the US flat screen off my hands so that it wouldn't sit idle in storage for four long years. He admitted later that he figured that by the time I returned, I'd want something newer than that TV anyway. He's probably right. The joke may be on him, though, as once he installed the TV it started mysteriously just going on strike every once in a while. Crazy Dutch (Phillips) technology....)
TV stations in Germany also broadcast in a different way (I don't know the specifics related to this) than US stations (aside from the whole digital thing, which is a different battle). I was less concerned about this, though, since the likelihood of my having the new TV in a place in the US where I would have neither cable nor satellite service was slim to none. I also wanted a model that could be serviced in the US, if necessary. This, somewhat unfortunately, removed from consideration the German-manufactured Loewe (not to be confused with Lowe's home stores, cinemas or hotels) TVs that have some of the crispest pictures I've ever seen but are nearly twice as expensive as the other brands. Anyway, Barney said he would do some research for me. Love it.
While he was doing this, something entirely unexpected happened. My mom, from whom I'm pretty sure neither Seth nor I received our gadget/technology obsession gene, bought a new TV. A flat panel TV, of course. Seth installed it on the wall for her and she said everyone who came over remarked on how nice and large it was. This made me curious. As far as I know, she generally watches romantic comedies, Hallmark movies and, occasionally, Vegetales flicks with my nieces. (Mom, feel free to add a comment to the blog to clarify.) Not really into action flicks with special effects. So when it was rumored that she had purchased a 46" beast, the gadget chick in me suddenly felt a bit challenged. I'm not generally a keep-up-with-the-Joneses kind of person, but I mean, if my Mom had that big of a TV....
When I went back to see Barney, a beautiful sight greeted me. Multiple signs saying something like "Reduziert" which I interpreted as reductions or a SALE!!!! Woohoo!! Turns out that EP Fischer's fiscal year ended on June 30 so, like most companies, they tried to reduce inventory so there was less inventory to have to count. (And you know how we auditors do so love a good inventory-taking....) Even the big flat panel TVs were on sale. Very, very good.
Barney had indeed performed some research and it seemed like the best bet based on my criteria listed above for me would be a Sony TV. The question was, which one? I looked at the 46" size and it was, quite simply, gigantic. I could not comprehend it in my living room without feeling like I would be standing on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise (which would be cool, but not very realistic). The price for the 46" Sony Bravia with 100Hz frame rate was the same as the 40" with 200Hz frame rate. And the latter would just fit a whole bunch better in my living room and was still huge relative to the 26" Samsung, if not to Mom's TV (though it turned out later, Mom only has a 42" TV, so I am not a total slacker). So I went with the 40". And Barney even cut me a deal on delivery since I am, literally, across the street from the store. (AND, with the "savings" from the sale, I was able to buy a very cool new also-on-sale Tivoli Audio iSongBook docking station, complete with amazing sound (I would expect no less from them), an excellent remote control, surprisingly good radio reception, the ability to charge my big iPod (alas, not my Mini), a detachable speaker on one side to create a better stereo effect, and battery compatibility and little plugs so I could, say, take this sound show to the beach or, closer to home, a bathtub area near me.)
And that should be the end of this story, though of course it is not. The day the TV was delivered, I felt the keen desire to test out the 200Hz Motionflow technology as well as the built-in speakers (I still can't figure out how I'd do surround sound, but hoped perhaps it would not be necessary to contemplate further). What better way to do that than through an in-home viewing of Ronin, which is an action-packed moved with some good special effects and with the most phenomenal car chase scenes featuring, of course, Audi! So I picked up the only DVD player they had in the store and which was also on sale. Sweet.
Um, yeah. Small issue. European DVD players play DVDs formatted for Region 2. The US (and, hence, my entire DVD collection -- which isn't saying much) are formatted for Region 1 viewing. Uhhh.... It was, by this time, Saturday night, so all stores were closed. I had noted, however, that there was the ability to connect a PC to the TV and I happened to have the right cord (the same one you would use to connect to a projecter for an office presentation). Only one problem -- that provided the video connection, but the audio was still coming through my laptop speakers, which wasn't exactly the experience I was looking for. I tried a variety of cords that I have that have an input to the laptop's headphone jack and that split into red and white TV inputs. None of them worked. I think that is because you have to change the input to PC and the red/white inputs relate to a Component input selection. Doh!!! I finally lugged the computer speakers with sub-woofer (described months ago in this blog) out into the living room and hooked that up and it worked like a charm, but wasn't exactly a long-term solution.
The next week I went to Media Markt to see if they had any DVD players that would play Region 1 DVDs. They did some checking on-line but, alas, the answer was no. I finally broke down and bought some Region 2 DVDs so I could test the TV. (I have to say, Miranda in "Der Teufel Trägt Prada" (yes, "The Devil Wears Prada") sounds so much more wicked when she's speaking German.) I believe that the Bourne movie I watched proved that the TV and its speakers would be fine for my viewing needs. But I still wanted to watch my US movies....
I was mentioning the problem to one of my colleagues and he said he thought his brother had purchased an inexpensive multi-regional DVD player and he would look into it. Later, he sent me links to two such devices on Amazon.de. For €30, how could I go wrong? Well, it turns out that the one that I bought (didn't really pay attention to the description on the web site since it was German) was used, but it arrived in good conditions and they even left the batteries in the gigantic remote. More importantly? It works like a charm.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
15 July 2009 - Coming out of the Closet
[Perhaps Madonna's "Hung Up" would be appropriate, though clearly she was thinking about something else.]
Recall my excitement about the pending installation of my long-awaited closet system that was ordered back in March. Well, the closet system was installed a couple weeks ago. It was more or less what I thought I had ordered (again, recall that this order was defined and placed in German with a salesperson who spoke nearly as little English as I spoke German at that time). And perhaps not surprisingly, the guys who came to build/install the system also spoke limited English. But, I mean, how much English does it take to tell them how to install a pre-configured system, right?
(Quick time out here as you are probably looking at the photo and trying to figure it out. The cabinet is black-brown wood with black glass panels applied at the top and bottom. There are three doors that slide open and allow one of the three sections to be exposed at a time or for all to be closed. In the current configuration, you will note a lot of color, which, at least in the bottom section, is my response to the weird cubbyhold situation -- stuffing rolled up exercise attire into the slots for easy access with some semblance of organization.)
They were asking, for example, at which height I wanted the closet bar in the section that would hold dresses and long items, as well as for the bars in the divided section for jackets on top and pants and short skirts on the bottom. I mean, shouldn't there be standard heights for where these bars should be? Suffice it to say, there apparently are not and when I started unpacking (finally!!) the wardrobe boxes that had been lurking in my bedroom and the study, I discovered that the dresses dragged on the floor (and thus covering shoes, for which shoe racks had not been provided as I had thought I had requested) and the jackets were nearly spilling into the pants area on the other side. But this was nearly the least of my worries. And don't get me started on the odd cubby hole things that I thought were supposed to be small drawers for hosiery and the like, but weren't.
One of the specific features I had wanted in the closet system was a large space in the center section for a TV (which TV would be the 26" LCD I bought from Barney as the temporary TV for my digs and which was to be moved into this space and replaced in the living room with a larger model, which is a topic for a separate blog). Um, yeah. Problem. The unit backed up flat against the wall and covered the cable and power outlets, which I only realized much later because I hadn't been able to communicate this to the installation guys. And no ability, even if I were able to somehow get to the boxes, to be able to feed them into the closet system without drilling holes.
Did someone say drilling? As with power tools? I feel compelled to refer back to a previous entry that I believe was titled, "I am Sparky's Sister." Have tools. Always looking for more. Will drill. (Not to be confused with, "Drill, baby, drill," which is a conversation for another day. But imagine how angry I might sound if I have that conversation in German! ;-))
So this past weekend I set about remedying the height of the closet bars, the distribution of the shelves and the certain matter of electronics. The first toy that was required (and which was purchased the day after closet installation) was something that I believe is called a pocket hole saw. (I feel compelled to mention I came to that conclusion based on a review of the Home Depot web site. I knew what I was looking for in the Hornbach store here, though, if that makes you not lose total confidence in me being a biological sister to Sparky.) Basically, picture a circular band of steel. The bottom side of the band has an aggressive edge of metal teeth like any other saw. And the other end fastens (that's a gross simplification) to a power drill. When engaged, this tool can drill circular holes into flat surfaces. You know, surfaces like the walls of a closet system....
Problem was, I didn't know exactly where, behind this closet system, the power or satellite outlets were. I measured the height of the outlets in the rooms, which appeared to be consistently at about 12 inches (or whatever the centimeter equivalent is, but this American only has a "standard" measurement tape measure -- in case you're thinking of stocking stuffers for Christmas already). I recalled the approximate position and began drilling in the back wall of the closet. And then the power went out. Hmmm.... Yeah, that's because Captain Intelligence (I'm being sarcastic) had indeed estimated correctly and drilled directly into the extension cord plugged into the electrical outlet behind the wall, resulting in a short and a very nice example of how German electrical systems are designed to prevent accountants with power tools from electrocuting themselves. So I had uncovered one outlet, but more remained. And I couldn't recall whether there were multiple outlets before one got to the satellite connection. Um, nutshell? Three power outlets, so now there are a series of four interlinked circles in the back wall. (If I did a fifth, could I get an Olympic award of some sort because it kind of looks like the rings.....) I then drilled another hole between the left and right sections of the closet system and we were in business with fully functional TV and satellite receiver.
All good. But the four circles bothered me. I wanted to clean them up before I put all the clothes back into the closet. So back to Hornbach I went in search of a nice sawing tool of some sort. I ended up buying a Dremel tool with a separate "cutting kit." Sweet, right? Now, I should have thought, "Hmmmm, I don't recall Sparky himself ever referring to, let alone extolling the virtues of, his Dremel tool." Well, yeah, that's because the Dremel documentation indicated it was for DIY projects. Ruh roh.
But I had the special cutting cut, so all was fine, right? Not so much. The cutting tools included were not meant for wood surfaces. So the round discs ended up essentially creating friction with the wood and pretty much burning it, rather than cutting it. Now, this makes for an interesting smell in one's bedroom, but hardly solved the problem of how to clean up this series of holes before hanging the clothes up in the closet.
So.... Nutshell, I have TV and satellite service in my bedroom. I have several new toys. Cords are out of sight. There is a slight scent of campfire in the air. And I still have no idea what the cubbyholes are for. Life goes on.....
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
7 July 2009 - Haarspray, the Sequel
[I have not, I admit, watched the movie or play, "Hairspray." So, feel free to use your favorite piece from that soundtrack if you're a fan. I, however, choose "Beauty School Dropout" from Grease for this blog's track of the day, since that more or less describes me and, of course, because Grease has the good sense to have both "I am Sandra Dee" and "Sandy" as songs on the soundtrack, which appeal to me for obviously narcissistic reasons.]
So I have now been back to Mario twice. I think we are bonding. I am not sure whether he laughs at my silliness because he is a joyful kind of guy, or whether he has no idea what the heck I am talking about, but I do so enjoy visiting him.
I learned on my second visit that there is an upper floor to Mario's studio. A whole new world. The second and third times were also not nearly so creepy as the third, since there were other customers there and also other employees who were washing the hair of customers et cetera, which made it seem more like a regular salon.
Highlight of my second visit? He was spraying some stuff on my towel-dried hair and said, "This stuff is great. It's like crack for your hair." You know I couldn't let that go without comment, right?
Preuscher: Really? Is it addictive? Can I share it with my friends? Or must I use it responsibly and only allow those who have been prescribed it by a licensed hairdresser? What happens if I sniff it? Is it edible?
He thought I was kidding. But hey, if he makes a claim like that, I've gotta test it out, right? (Or at least think of ways in which to do so.) Suffice it to say by the time I visited the third time, my roots are now practically full of track marks, though it's hard to distinguish from all the gray hair that I have allowed to roam my scalp in a bizarre experiment of, "How long can you seriously claim that you don't despise the fact that your hair indicates you are aging?" Rather, I think the Crack for Hair (actual name is Energy Volumizer No. 2 -- step aside, Chanel No. 5, and yeah, I did have advanced placement, skipping over Volumizer No. 1 entirely) may have accelerated the appearance of my, um, silver highlights. Or are they platinum? Perhaps only the issues of my clients that have brought such luminescent strands to my head can really attest to the expense with which they appear.
After the second visit, I was starting to actually almost get the hang of the Scissorhands cut. Still unruly, but I was able to live with the chaos though it was readily apparent I needed to visit more often to keep up that look of chaos without sliding down into unkempt and mangy. And then came visit 3.....
I was yakking away with Mario and then he stopped his snipping and pronounced what was on top of my head good.
Preuscher: Um, Mario, there are curls on top of my head.
Mario: I know, aren't they great? I took advantage of the natural wave of your hair to do that.
Preuscher: Um, yeah, the natural wave and the attendant flips are what I am trying to avoid. How would I re-create this, um, (mess -- no, what's a politically correct term?) "effect" again?
Mario: Oh, if you don't have the 6 brushes on hand that I used to create this, you could use hot rollers.
Preuscher: What?! Um, no, this has to be a quick kind of 'do.
Mario: Well, you could perhaps approximate the effect with some of the kind of other velcro-like rollers.
Preuscher: (After hissing intake of breath....) Hmmmm.....
So, suffice to say, my days of waking up, looking at my bedhead, taking a shower, and then attempting to re-create the bedhead less cowlicks are over. I miss them. I miss Edward Scissorhands. I will have him back....
Meanwhile, the Droggerie Mart pulled a slick move on me last time. Turns out that Bier Shampoo is not the one for my dark (unadjusted for silver highlights) tresses. There is actually a Walnuss Braun-Reflex Shampoo that matches my conditioner. This throws my entire food theme of beer, walnuts, and espresso chase out the window. Oh, Guhl..... Soooooo personally disappointed in your inability to manage and present your inventory at the Droggerie Mart.....
So I have now been back to Mario twice. I think we are bonding. I am not sure whether he laughs at my silliness because he is a joyful kind of guy, or whether he has no idea what the heck I am talking about, but I do so enjoy visiting him.
I learned on my second visit that there is an upper floor to Mario's studio. A whole new world. The second and third times were also not nearly so creepy as the third, since there were other customers there and also other employees who were washing the hair of customers et cetera, which made it seem more like a regular salon.
Highlight of my second visit? He was spraying some stuff on my towel-dried hair and said, "This stuff is great. It's like crack for your hair." You know I couldn't let that go without comment, right?
Preuscher: Really? Is it addictive? Can I share it with my friends? Or must I use it responsibly and only allow those who have been prescribed it by a licensed hairdresser? What happens if I sniff it? Is it edible?
He thought I was kidding. But hey, if he makes a claim like that, I've gotta test it out, right? (Or at least think of ways in which to do so.) Suffice it to say by the time I visited the third time, my roots are now practically full of track marks, though it's hard to distinguish from all the gray hair that I have allowed to roam my scalp in a bizarre experiment of, "How long can you seriously claim that you don't despise the fact that your hair indicates you are aging?" Rather, I think the Crack for Hair (actual name is Energy Volumizer No. 2 -- step aside, Chanel No. 5, and yeah, I did have advanced placement, skipping over Volumizer No. 1 entirely) may have accelerated the appearance of my, um, silver highlights. Or are they platinum? Perhaps only the issues of my clients that have brought such luminescent strands to my head can really attest to the expense with which they appear.
After the second visit, I was starting to actually almost get the hang of the Scissorhands cut. Still unruly, but I was able to live with the chaos though it was readily apparent I needed to visit more often to keep up that look of chaos without sliding down into unkempt and mangy. And then came visit 3.....
I was yakking away with Mario and then he stopped his snipping and pronounced what was on top of my head good.
Preuscher: Um, Mario, there are curls on top of my head.
Mario: I know, aren't they great? I took advantage of the natural wave of your hair to do that.
Preuscher: Um, yeah, the natural wave and the attendant flips are what I am trying to avoid. How would I re-create this, um, (mess -- no, what's a politically correct term?) "effect" again?
Mario: Oh, if you don't have the 6 brushes on hand that I used to create this, you could use hot rollers.
Preuscher: What?! Um, no, this has to be a quick kind of 'do.
Mario: Well, you could perhaps approximate the effect with some of the kind of other velcro-like rollers.
Preuscher: (After hissing intake of breath....) Hmmmm.....
So, suffice to say, my days of waking up, looking at my bedhead, taking a shower, and then attempting to re-create the bedhead less cowlicks are over. I miss them. I miss Edward Scissorhands. I will have him back....
Meanwhile, the Droggerie Mart pulled a slick move on me last time. Turns out that Bier Shampoo is not the one for my dark (unadjusted for silver highlights) tresses. There is actually a Walnuss Braun-Reflex Shampoo that matches my conditioner. This throws my entire food theme of beer, walnuts, and espresso chase out the window. Oh, Guhl..... Soooooo personally disappointed in your inability to manage and present your inventory at the Droggerie Mart.....
Sunday, July 5, 2009
5 July 2009 - Momentarily afflicted by spontaneity
[Fergie, "London Bridge."]I believe it is universally acknowledged that I am not a very spontaneous person, particularly when such spontaneity may require an outlay of cash. That has not changed since I moved here. But what also has not changed is how much I like my peeps. I have a great team here, but I still do miss my peeps in the US. And sometimes BlackBerry Messenger (hereinafter "BB") just isn't enough.
So fast forward to two weekends ago. After an exhausting week, I was headed to sleep late on Friday, but sent some BB shout outs to some of my peeps. One of them (codename, "Sage") responded that she was headed to London on Saturday for a project and would be there a few days and perhaps I should swing by. Yeah, right.
But the idea had been planted and my subconscious must have been thinking about it all night because it was still on my mind when I woke up Saturday morning. I headed to my computer to see if it was possible to get a same-day ticket at a reasonable price. Now, unfortunately, we do not use AMEX Travel at the German firm, which would have allowed me to do multiple searches at the same time. Carlson Wagonlit kind of stinks -- no online tool AND they make you pay €15 for the privilege of them booking a ticket if you do so for personal travel. So I was left to my own devices.
American Airlines/British Airways said they would be happy to ferry me to LHR for €750. Yes, Euro. How about, "Heck, no!!" Lufthansa? Their €720 received a similar response from me. Now, I don't know all the discount carriers over here yet (Southwest, please expand abroad!), but neither EasyJet nor Air Berlin fly between FRA and LHR. Hmmm.... Long story, I was able to find a Mr. Toad's Wild Ride flight for about €225. This involved taking Air France via CDG and returning through AMS on KLM. I hate connections... But for a peep and to save money, I did it. I should note that I left home for the airport around the same time that Sage left IAD, yet I only got to the hotel about 2 hours before she did. Did I mention I hate connections?
Somehow I was able to score an exit row aisle on both legs of the Air France ticket. (Ignore how many seats were available on the flight for now. While the AF 447 flight recorders have not yet been recovered, and probably never will, I do not have safety concerns about the airline. I can only assume that only a confluence of catastrophic conditions could down a big rig like the A330 when flown by experienced pilots as was the case with AF 447. My heart and prayers go out to the family and friends of the passengers and crew of that flight.) Nevertheless, I found it a bit creepy that they gave an awful lot of instruction on how to open the window exit, including specific instruction on how to remove the panel covering the handle on the window. And, on the second leg, the flight attendant asked me if I would be willing to move to the window seat as they needed someone on the exit window. Yikes.
A quick note on airlines. Air France and KLM merged in 2004 to become Air France-KLM, yet they still have very separate brands. Compare this with, say, the American Airlines acquisition. It seems to be that within a very short period of time, everything was all American including repainting the jets. You only knew you were on a legacy TWA plane if you looked at some of the badging near the cockpit as you entered or realized the seats themselves were really uncomfortable. (Sorry, TWA, but it's true.) Anyway, the planes of KLM and Air France are still painted differently (though perhaps with a shout out to "Air France-KLM" somewhere). And the uniforms of the flight attendants are also significantly different. Air France female flight attendants have a longer, lean-looking jacket that makes them look catwalk-ready on a moment's notice. KLM's light blue uniforms, on the other hand, look inexpensive and perhaps even homemade (no offense to great at-home sewers!) and the sensible navy shoes that are also apparently part of the uniform do little to dissuade the sensible look of the ensemble. Nevertheless, excellent service was provided by both cabin crews.
Anyway, I arrived safely at LHR and took the Underground to the city (you know, saving money and all). Sage was staying at the Sheraton Park Lane, so I had obtained a room there as well. Um, a bit down at the heels, shall we say? No upgrade, small and wretchedly hot fitness center, nearly non-functional air conditioning in the rooms, no club level lounge, no place to plug in the hair dryer unless you crawled partially under the bed, concierge was out of postage, and then there's that small matter of the shower head falling down, hitting my foot and drawing blood. Other than that, delightful.... It was, however, located right on Green Park, a short walk from Buckingham Palace, and easily accessible via Underground. "Value priced" perhaps? Well, let's not get carried away here....
Sage arrived late in the evening, so we met only briefly, then reconvened the following morning for a quick tour of the some of the tourist attractions that were relatively close. The official reason for the trip was, of course, to take my peep to afternoon tea at Brown's Hotel. Now, I got a lot of flack on Facebook when I said I was going to London to take my peep to tea because it sounded a bit (oh, let me recall some of the words) pompous, spoiled, posh, stuck-up, snobbish, and spendthrift. If you know me, you realize that I was joking. While I really enjoy afternoon tea after having been introduced to the tradition by one of my mentors (and having previously had tea at Brown's with my Mom several years ago), the real purpose of the trip was to spend time and reconnect with one of my favorite people. And, quite frankly, after the hellatious week I had had, I suspect reconnecting with someone from the US was of more mental benefit to me than whatever I may have provided in terms of guidance or whatever to Sage.
In any event, good times and well worth the short trip. And if you ever need to know how to pop the exit window/door of an A300, let me know....
(The photo is of a random shopping arcade. Imagine if strip malls could looks this classic....)
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
1 July 2009 - Half of an ICE = Amtrak?
[Theme song from "Rawhide." You know, "Rollin', rollin', rollin'...."]
So you know how much I enjoy the ICE by now, right? Well, I now have a bit of an issue with them. Today I was scheduled to enjoy ICE 124 from Fern 7 at the Frankfurt airport train station (the fernbahnhof, for those at-home players following the Deutsche Bahn timetable) to Düsseldorf with no connections. My pre-assigned seat was seat 73 in car (aka "wagen") 28. We paid €3 for the privilege of having an assigned seat. Anyway, a good start.
The car number is displayed on a digital panel on the outside of the car and there is a particular way in which the cars are arranged within the train. When you arrive at your track, there is a large poster displayed in one of the display cabinets that displays the letter point (A, B, C, etc .) corresponding to a location on the platform where your car will stop and you will board. Very convenient once you figure this out.
So I was standing at location F when the train rolled in. Hmmm. That's actually car 38. Hmmm.... Is it possible that the car is going backwards and 28 is at the other end? Um, not so much. Now, sometimes two separate trains are linked together and then split at a particular location (for example, one goes to Brussels, the other to Amsterdam), but it doesn't matter since you know which car to go to. Except when that car doesn't show up.
There was no car 28. I asked several Deutsche Bahn employees (who I later referred to in the made-up word, Wagenmeister, not to be confused with Hausmeister who is the Schneider of my apartment building -- you know, Schneider from Three's Company) where 28 was and they essentially said that that train (the ICE 124) was not along for this ride, just the ICE 14, so I could try to find a seat that wasn't already reserved. Oh, and I'd have to disembark at Köln and switch to a regional train to get to Düsseldorf .
Um, what? Did I mention I paid €3 for that non-existent seat? There were, of course, no assigned seats on the regional train, either. I was a bit cranky by time I arrived (late) in Düsseldorf , only to discover that what had been described as a 5 minute walk (apparently by an Olympic speedwalking contender) was actually 18 minutes in office shoes and in the full light of the blazing sun. Grrrr.....
The return trip was also disappointing. I ordered a, um, "refreshing beverage" somewhere around Bonn. It was delivered approximately 3.5 minutes before we arrived at the fernbahnhof. Seriously?? On the positive side, for the portion of the trip from Düsseldorf to Köln (before the train reversed direction), I was directly behind the engineer in his glassed-in cabin. Interesting to watch, though not nearly so suspenseful as being directly behind (no glass wall) the pilot of a single-propeller plane in Costa Rica. There are a few screens and a few levers that I suspect basically say "Go," "Stop" and "Size of the bump we just flattened at 300 kph?"
Nevertheless, I am home. I am a bit freaked out, though, as I left Hudson in the parking garage near my client location overnight. I feel this distance between us.... That distance will feel much bigger tomorrow when I am forced to take a taxi from home to the client.
It is hot here. Dinner upon late arrival home? Cold homemade mashed potatoes. I am pretending they are really bland potato salad.
So you know how much I enjoy the ICE by now, right? Well, I now have a bit of an issue with them. Today I was scheduled to enjoy ICE 124 from Fern 7 at the Frankfurt airport train station (the fernbahnhof, for those at-home players following the Deutsche Bahn timetable) to Düsseldorf with no connections. My pre-assigned seat was seat 73 in car (aka "wagen") 28. We paid €3 for the privilege of having an assigned seat. Anyway, a good start.
The car number is displayed on a digital panel on the outside of the car and there is a particular way in which the cars are arranged within the train. When you arrive at your track, there is a large poster displayed in one of the display cabinets that displays the letter point (A, B, C, etc .) corresponding to a location on the platform where your car will stop and you will board. Very convenient once you figure this out.
So I was standing at location F when the train rolled in. Hmmm. That's actually car 38. Hmmm.... Is it possible that the car is going backwards and 28 is at the other end? Um, not so much. Now, sometimes two separate trains are linked together and then split at a particular location (for example, one goes to Brussels, the other to Amsterdam), but it doesn't matter since you know which car to go to. Except when that car doesn't show up.
There was no car 28. I asked several Deutsche Bahn employees (who I later referred to in the made-up word, Wagenmeister, not to be confused with Hausmeister who is the Schneider of my apartment building -- you know, Schneider from Three's Company) where 28 was and they essentially said that that train (the ICE 124) was not along for this ride, just the ICE 14, so I could try to find a seat that wasn't already reserved. Oh, and I'd have to disembark at Köln and switch to a regional train to get to Düsseldorf .
Um, what? Did I mention I paid €3 for that non-existent seat? There were, of course, no assigned seats on the regional train, either. I was a bit cranky by time I arrived (late) in Düsseldorf , only to discover that what had been described as a 5 minute walk (apparently by an Olympic speedwalking contender) was actually 18 minutes in office shoes and in the full light of the blazing sun. Grrrr.....
The return trip was also disappointing. I ordered a, um, "refreshing beverage" somewhere around Bonn. It was delivered approximately 3.5 minutes before we arrived at the fernbahnhof. Seriously?? On the positive side, for the portion of the trip from Düsseldorf to Köln (before the train reversed direction), I was directly behind the engineer in his glassed-in cabin. Interesting to watch, though not nearly so suspenseful as being directly behind (no glass wall) the pilot of a single-propeller plane in Costa Rica. There are a few screens and a few levers that I suspect basically say "Go," "Stop" and "Size of the bump we just flattened at 300 kph?"
Nevertheless, I am home. I am a bit freaked out, though, as I left Hudson in the parking garage near my client location overnight. I feel this distance between us.... That distance will feel much bigger tomorrow when I am forced to take a taxi from home to the client.
It is hot here. Dinner upon late arrival home? Cold homemade mashed potatoes. I am pretending they are really bland potato salad.
Monday, June 29, 2009
1 May 2009 - Koblenz Catch-up
This is a very long-overdue catchup entry. Quite a few weeks ago, Bonnie (that gives you an idea of the timing....) and I took a daytrip to Koblenz. It was one of the trips listed in the guidebook I had, I had one of many banking holidays, and Bonnie and I were up for a small adventure.
Koblenz is only about 75 miles from Frankfurt, so not a long drive. The historic strategic importance of the city is that it is the point of confluence of the Mosel and Rhine rivers. It was established in the 9th century by the Romans as a stronghold for controlling that intersection (the corner of earth jutting out into the rivers at this point is known as the Deutsches Eck or German Corner). At some point in time, Koblenz was actually part of French, but then Germany got it back again. Like many other sizable cities, it was nearly destroyed during WWII, but has been significantly rebuilt.
I wandered around and found some interesting sights, including the fountain shown above of the mischievous schoolboy who randomly spits at passersby. Another interesting part I enjoyed was the Kaiser Wilhelm statue area that overlooks the Deutsches Ek itself. There is this gigantaur sculpture of the Kaiser on his trusty steed on a platform that is equally gigantaur. The sculpture was apparently destroyed during the war, but has somewhat recently been replicated and replaced. The whole area is still under some construction. But the platform area has engraved in its stone walls each of the Bundeslanden (states) of Germany. What I loved was that if one looks past the Hessen coat of arms (Hessen is the Bundesland in which Frankfurt is located) through an opening in the wall, you can see a US flag waving in the breeze. I am not sure of why it is there, but anytime I see those stars and stripes waving, I get all choked up. And to see it combined with my new home was particularly moving.
Less moving was the carnival that was also taking place on the shore of the Mosel River. I somehow expected carnivals here to be more upscale. Um, not so much. The carnies were still really creepy. And the Ferris Wheel was called the Liberty Wheel and had background images of the Statue of Liberty, including a replica which I swear had a "flame" burning in German colors. Most fascinating, though, is that unlike the regular carnival type of music I am used to in the U.S. (which is the stuff of which horror film soundtracks are made), carnie music in Germany is apparently really loud techno music. Yeah, like house music. Even at the kiddie rides. Bizarre. Dieter Sprockets lives on.....
Monday, June 22, 2009
22 June 2009 - Bumbling around Brussels
["Macarena." Sorry, I know that's probably now going to be stuck in your mind the rest of the day, but it will make more sense later. In the interim, I offer you Lady Gaga's "Love Game," which I cannot get out of my head dispite the ridiculously juvenile lyrics.]
I am frequently asked by friends what I have seen while I have been living in Europe. The answer is somewhat the same as I might have given while still living in the states -- I have seen a variety of dark, windowless conference rooms in various cities. Two weekends ago, we had a long holiday weekend of sorts and I decided it was time to see something that was worth writing home about (or blogging, as the case may be).
I figured that since it was a long weekend, a lot of Germans would be out driving and there might be traffic, so it would be better to take the train someplace. But I didn't want to spend a long time on the train.... So I decided Brussels, Belgium would be a good destination -- about a 3.5 hour non-stop ride on the ICE and with several Starwood properties from which to choose (always key). Two years ago I had been there for the same conference that sent me to Rome last month, but again didn't have time to see the city other than from a bus window while en route to dinner. Time to see the rest of the city.
I made this decision on Tuesday night and figured out how to book the ticket online and I was set. Except I didn't have a travel guide, so I purchased one on Amazon.de where they have a whole section of English language books (I suspect the site is simply a front end for amazon.uk) and generally deliver in 1-2 days. Excellent. Except that one of the intervening days between the order and when I was to leave was a holiday. On Friday afternoon, I hung out at the office until the last possible minute before I had to leave for my train, but DHL had still not delivered. Doh!
I had a few extra minutes at the Frankfurt Hauptbanhof (a very, very large train station with quite a few shops), so I ducked into a bookstore. I found a small travel guide to Brussels that was suitable for purse schlepping and which had a lot of maps, including a few walking tours. What more did I need, right? Of course, there was the minor issue that said travel guide was in German and I didn't happen to have a German-English dictionary on my person. So, picture an English-speaking American walking around a city where the languages are French and Flemish with the "assistance" of a tour guide in German. Perfect....
Actually, it worked out pretty well, generally. I followed the outlined walking tours and saw most of the sights, though the history and their significance were often lost on me. It also helped that I had taken two years of French in college (much more study than I have had in German), so I could generally read signs and menus. Problem was, when I would try to speak with people (for example, ordering a croissant at the bakery), German would come out of my mouth. No, not the French listed on the menu. Not English which they would have understood as well. But clumsy and imperfect German. Which was often as much of a surprise to me as it was to the clerks. I felt a compulsion to cover my mouth to keep the words from coming out as I was thinking, "Where did THAT come from??" Apparently my small brain is unable to handle multiple, concurrent languages.
I stayed at the Le Meridien, which was nice enough. Very old school. They were kind enough to upgrade me to a delightful corner suite, which is always nice when you actually have time to enjoy it rather than just ducking in to sleep in between, say, visits to various conference rooms! And they had a Nespresso machine in the room! Not quite as cool as my handsome machine, but still much better than regular drip coffee. One of the unusual features of the hotel was the sound in the elevators. No, not elevator music. Nature sounds. The day I arrived, it was weird bird calls. The next morning I got on along with some other Germans (I was soooo excited to hear German being spoken!) and we all commented on the water sounds. Really odd. I suppose it was supposed to soothe guests, but it just kinda freaked me out.
I didn't really have a plan for the city, but just kind of wandered around, primarily following the walking tours in the book. When the spirit moved me, I'd sit down in one of the many parks or at an outdoor cafe and whip out my Kindle for some reading and people watching (and, of course, coffee or other beverages if at an outdoor cafe). Just very relaxing.
One of the interesting things I noted, though, was one of the many outdoor chalkboard signs by a restaurant. Like most of them, it was in French and listed some very tasty sounding things. But this one caught my eye when I saw "avec Freedom Fries." Yes, served not with French fries in this French-speaking country, but the Freedom Fries of the House of Representatives Cafeteria fame. As Rachel Maddow had said just a few days before, Freedom Fries are kind of like the Macarena. You know people who did the Macarena, but of course YOU never did the Macarena. Just like no one wants to admit they had anything to do with the Freedom Fries dealio. Except, apparently, Belgians, who keep the story alive.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
10 June 2009 - Banking in the Bundesland
One of the issues I deal with on at least a weekly basis is banking. It seems like a simple thing but being paid partially in US dollars and partially in Euro is a bit tricky. It is a long story (one which I can't really tell because I still don't understand it entirely) why I have compensation in two different currencies, but it is generally a good thing. For example, I have to pay my Chicago condo mortgage in dollars as well as certain insurance and investment payments. But obviously I need Euro to pay for rent, a certain A5, food, etc. over here. The tricky part is that I can't specify the precise split and I usually am in the position that I have Euro but need dollars.
I have several bank accounts in the US (rest assured, it is not because I am concerned about exceeding the FDIC insured amounts!), but I decided a few years ago to open a Citibank account as my primary account because it had ATMs in practically every country I visited, meaning fewer ATM fees and ready access to cash. It also had a reasonably good online bill payment system (though not as good as Wells Fargo), which is also important when you are never home and are averse to using checks and to having to pay postage to mail those checks.
So, I figured that since Citibank is over here, surely I could open a Euro-denominated bank account with Citibank Germany (realizing it is a different legal and operating entity than the US bank) and link that to my US account for seamless transfer of funds. (HSBC, for example, has such a system, though HSBC isn't a player here in Germany.) Um, not so much. When I approached the Citibank branch in Chicago about this, they looked at me like I was high on crack. I submitted a question online and received a standard response about making wire transfers. I figured, though, that while the Americans might be clueless, that Citibank Germany would be able to provide better guidance.
There was a Citibank ATM within location of the Livin' and it was one of my first stops upon arrival here way back in January. I withdrew some Euro with no apparent issues. Great, right? Well, then I was looking at my Citibank account activity online and noticed that I had been assessed two fees for the withdrawal. The first was for withdrawing from a non-Citibank ATM. The second was an international currency fee (in addition to the one that is built into the withdrawal itself). Hmmm.... So I sent a message to them online asking whether, since the withdrawal most certainly had been made at a Citibank ATM, the fees would be reversed before the statement issued. Nope. They said that there had been some fine print document distributed a few months earlier saying they would assess the currency exchange fee. I responded that I had not been aware of that change and noted that I had moved to Germany and wanted to continue my banking relationship with Citibank so surely they could waive the fee this time. And what about the non-citibank ATM fee, which was still clearly erroneous? No deal. They would not reverse any of the fees. I resisted the urge to respond that it was no wonder Citibank was going down in flames. But what amazes me is that they would be willing to give up my business for $9.24. I am currently in the process of changing my banking to Wells Fargo and a scrappy little credit union of which I have been a member since I was a kid.
I have several bank accounts in the US (rest assured, it is not because I am concerned about exceeding the FDIC insured amounts!), but I decided a few years ago to open a Citibank account as my primary account because it had ATMs in practically every country I visited, meaning fewer ATM fees and ready access to cash. It also had a reasonably good online bill payment system (though not as good as Wells Fargo), which is also important when you are never home and are averse to using checks and to having to pay postage to mail those checks.
So, I figured that since Citibank is over here, surely I could open a Euro-denominated bank account with Citibank Germany (realizing it is a different legal and operating entity than the US bank) and link that to my US account for seamless transfer of funds. (HSBC, for example, has such a system, though HSBC isn't a player here in Germany.) Um, not so much. When I approached the Citibank branch in Chicago about this, they looked at me like I was high on crack. I submitted a question online and received a standard response about making wire transfers. I figured, though, that while the Americans might be clueless, that Citibank Germany would be able to provide better guidance.
There was a Citibank ATM within location of the Livin' and it was one of my first stops upon arrival here way back in January. I withdrew some Euro with no apparent issues. Great, right? Well, then I was looking at my Citibank account activity online and noticed that I had been assessed two fees for the withdrawal. The first was for withdrawing from a non-Citibank ATM. The second was an international currency fee (in addition to the one that is built into the withdrawal itself). Hmmm.... So I sent a message to them online asking whether, since the withdrawal most certainly had been made at a Citibank ATM, the fees would be reversed before the statement issued. Nope. They said that there had been some fine print document distributed a few months earlier saying they would assess the currency exchange fee. I responded that I had not been aware of that change and noted that I had moved to Germany and wanted to continue my banking relationship with Citibank so surely they could waive the fee this time. And what about the non-citibank ATM fee, which was still clearly erroneous? No deal. They would not reverse any of the fees. I resisted the urge to respond that it was no wonder Citibank was going down in flames. But what amazes me is that they would be willing to give up my business for $9.24. I am currently in the process of changing my banking to Wells Fargo and a scrappy little credit union of which I have been a member since I was a kid.
(I am not entirely disloyal to banking institutions. I would have stayed with the First National Bank of Geneva, had their service not so rapidly deteriorated after they were acquired by Firstar, which was then acquired sometime down the road by US Bank. I was also relatively pleased with the service of the First National Bank of Chicago (despite a significant lapse in controls over ATM password resets I noted to them based on their willingness to change my PIN at their St. Charles branch without requesting any form of identification, photo or otherwise -- funny), but I was not a fan at all of Bank One, which acquired them before itself being acquired by Chase. And while the institutions indicated above may suggest I have a strong preference for First National banks, I am not discriminatory -- I am a big, big fan of a certain Old Second National Bank. But naming a bank Fifth Third Bank? That just sounds like a loser.)
Meanwhile, I still needed a bank, so the woman who was assisting me with a lot of relocation issues assisted me in opening an account at Commerzbank, which I believe is the second largest German bank following its acquisition of Dresdner Bank. Unlike Deutsche Bank, they have fee-free accounts and also have an arrangement with Deutsche Bank and Deutsche Postbank that allows me fee-free withdrawals from their ATMs. This becomes more relevant later on, because Deutsche Bank, in turn, offers fee-free withdrawal from Bank of America ATMS in the US.
I opened up a "current account" and something that I believe is a money market account. Checks are not used here. I found it unusual that they allowed me to open both accounts without funding either one. Transactions are accomplished either through cash (unlike the limits on my US accounts, I can withdraw €1,000 per day), use of the ATM/debit/EC card, or a direct bank transfer. Bank accounts here are not secret, which I find kinda crazy. In fact, my my ATM card lists on its face my full name, the bank branch number, and my bank account number. Uhhh.... Did you want my social security and mother's maiden name, too, to make it totally easy for someone to steal my identify? The apparent control on this is that you are required to go to a banking terminal (kind of like an ATM, but different) each month to print out your bank statement. If you don't print out the statement within a certain period of time (2-3 months, I think), it is printed out and mailed to you and you are charged for this service. I assume that this shows that you have notice of all charges posted to your account and have the opportunity to challenge any unknown postings, though I have not had the need to do so at this point in time. When you open an account, you are even given a folder in which you can file those statements.
Commerzbank also has free online banking and they even offer an English interface. Sweet. But online banking here is a bit different. First, while I can see account activity for all accounts, I am unable to transfer funds from my current account to the money market account online. Instead, I have to apparently phone my personal banker or go to the branch -- and not just any branch, but my branch, I believe. Uh, seriously? So I have yet to fund the money market account because I am uncomfortable having a transfer made via oral instruction (how would she know it's me?) and I am never at home when my branch is open.
The other thing about online banking I find unusual is that it is not paperless. After you set up online banking, the bank sends you a list of about 100 numbered TAN codes and corresponding BEN numbers (I suspect TAN means Transaction Authorization Number, but am not sure -- no clue what BEN means). Then, when I set up an order for a bank transfer to another party (the equivalent of online bill payment), I enter all the information and it asks for me to enter a particular TAN number (for example, enter the 6-digit TAN number corresponding to a particular number on the paper sheet). It then returns the three-letter BEN code and authorizes the transaction. So if you want to be able to bank from wherever you are in the world, you have to carry this paper listing with you. Ridiculous. Isn't it enough that I authenticated through my user name and password when I logged in? Apparently not.
I feel compelled to note that credit cards here also operate quite a bit differently than in the US. First of all, the credit bureaus we know and love (or hate) in the US don't operate over here, at least not with the same data. So I basically have no credit here. Interesting.... Commerzbank was willing to give me a credit card based on my payroll stubs. Well, if you know how twisted and uneven the monthly cashflow is for a young partner at our firm and then try showing that suddenly beginning in January I make some money in USD and some in Euro with a whole bunch of deductions going each way and a whole lot of withholdings for tax, this gets a bit complicated as well. Somehow, though, they figured out that I am not a total deadbeat and issued me a credit card. Except it's not really a credit card. It's more like a charge card. At the end of every month they post my statement online and I have a couple days before the bank scoops the ENTIRE amount out of my current account. This is also how my Corporate AMEX card works here. I pay off my cards every month anyway, but this still caught me by surprise.
So back to the original issue of funding accounts and moving funds between Citibank and Commerzbank. The easiest way to transfer money is through a wire transfer. Easy, yes. Cheap? No. You get smacked with fees on both sides of the transactions, particularly by my friends at Citibank, which charges $30 to make a transfer online or $40 if you do it via phone or in person, plus you're still assessed whatever conversion rate they think is appropriate. So this really only makes sense if I was going to transfer larger sums, rather than simple rebalancing among accounts.
Meanwhile, I still needed a bank, so the woman who was assisting me with a lot of relocation issues assisted me in opening an account at Commerzbank, which I believe is the second largest German bank following its acquisition of Dresdner Bank. Unlike Deutsche Bank, they have fee-free accounts and also have an arrangement with Deutsche Bank and Deutsche Postbank that allows me fee-free withdrawals from their ATMs. This becomes more relevant later on, because Deutsche Bank, in turn, offers fee-free withdrawal from Bank of America ATMS in the US.
I opened up a "current account" and something that I believe is a money market account. Checks are not used here. I found it unusual that they allowed me to open both accounts without funding either one. Transactions are accomplished either through cash (unlike the limits on my US accounts, I can withdraw €1,000 per day), use of the ATM/debit/EC card, or a direct bank transfer. Bank accounts here are not secret, which I find kinda crazy. In fact, my my ATM card lists on its face my full name, the bank branch number, and my bank account number. Uhhh.... Did you want my social security and mother's maiden name, too, to make it totally easy for someone to steal my identify? The apparent control on this is that you are required to go to a banking terminal (kind of like an ATM, but different) each month to print out your bank statement. If you don't print out the statement within a certain period of time (2-3 months, I think), it is printed out and mailed to you and you are charged for this service. I assume that this shows that you have notice of all charges posted to your account and have the opportunity to challenge any unknown postings, though I have not had the need to do so at this point in time. When you open an account, you are even given a folder in which you can file those statements.
Commerzbank also has free online banking and they even offer an English interface. Sweet. But online banking here is a bit different. First, while I can see account activity for all accounts, I am unable to transfer funds from my current account to the money market account online. Instead, I have to apparently phone my personal banker or go to the branch -- and not just any branch, but my branch, I believe. Uh, seriously? So I have yet to fund the money market account because I am uncomfortable having a transfer made via oral instruction (how would she know it's me?) and I am never at home when my branch is open.
The other thing about online banking I find unusual is that it is not paperless. After you set up online banking, the bank sends you a list of about 100 numbered TAN codes and corresponding BEN numbers (I suspect TAN means Transaction Authorization Number, but am not sure -- no clue what BEN means). Then, when I set up an order for a bank transfer to another party (the equivalent of online bill payment), I enter all the information and it asks for me to enter a particular TAN number (for example, enter the 6-digit TAN number corresponding to a particular number on the paper sheet). It then returns the three-letter BEN code and authorizes the transaction. So if you want to be able to bank from wherever you are in the world, you have to carry this paper listing with you. Ridiculous. Isn't it enough that I authenticated through my user name and password when I logged in? Apparently not.
I feel compelled to note that credit cards here also operate quite a bit differently than in the US. First of all, the credit bureaus we know and love (or hate) in the US don't operate over here, at least not with the same data. So I basically have no credit here. Interesting.... Commerzbank was willing to give me a credit card based on my payroll stubs. Well, if you know how twisted and uneven the monthly cashflow is for a young partner at our firm and then try showing that suddenly beginning in January I make some money in USD and some in Euro with a whole bunch of deductions going each way and a whole lot of withholdings for tax, this gets a bit complicated as well. Somehow, though, they figured out that I am not a total deadbeat and issued me a credit card. Except it's not really a credit card. It's more like a charge card. At the end of every month they post my statement online and I have a couple days before the bank scoops the ENTIRE amount out of my current account. This is also how my Corporate AMEX card works here. I pay off my cards every month anyway, but this still caught me by surprise.
So back to the original issue of funding accounts and moving funds between Citibank and Commerzbank. The easiest way to transfer money is through a wire transfer. Easy, yes. Cheap? No. You get smacked with fees on both sides of the transactions, particularly by my friends at Citibank, which charges $30 to make a transfer online or $40 if you do it via phone or in person, plus you're still assessed whatever conversion rate they think is appropriate. So this really only makes sense if I was going to transfer larger sums, rather than simple rebalancing among accounts.
The solution finally hit me my first trip home in April. Unlike my US bank accounts that limited my daily ATM withdrawal to something like $500 (which, admittedly, was plenty), my Commerzbank account allows for withdrawals of up to €1,000 per day. Yes, Euro, so figure somewhere between $1,200-$1,300. This limitation also applies when you are out of the country, though of course a modest conversion fee is applied. So the plan was simple -- withdraw $1,200 from Bank of America ATMs (to avoid any ATM usage fee from either that machine or my bank) each day I am in the U.S., and then deposit the cash into my Citibank account. Simple plan, though not entirely without complications.
First, most Bank of America ATMs limit the per-transaction withdrawal to somewhere below $900 ($850 works, if I recall correctly). So would that then require me to find another Bank of America ATM to hit? Nope. To get around this limitation, you withdraw your first say, $600 of the day. Then you insert your card and withdraw another $600 in a different transaction at the same ATM. (Frankly, BofA, I expected more robust controls, but this works well for me.)
Second, there is the issue of the types of bills dispensed. I am frequently annoyed when a German ATM spits out everything but the first €50 in €50 bills. So if you withdraw €200, you get three €50 bills and maybe two €20s and a €10. Not surprisingly, a lot of small businesses (think street meat kiosk) aren't wild about breaking a €50 bill for you, so I find this inconvenient. The US, of course, is all about convenience. So they dispense everything except, say, the last $20 in $20 bills. You can do the math on how that works out for $1,200 multiplied by the number of days I am in the U.S. (Does this bulge make my purse look fat?) It pretty much makes me feel like I am a drug dealer in need of some serious money laundering.
And, finally, there is the matter of actually depositing this wad o' cash. It's a little too thick to just casually feed into the Citibank ATM and hope that it all gets through, doesn't clog the machine, or isn't siphoned off by whoever is handling deposits at the ATM despite the controls. So it requires presenting myself at the Citibank branch. Where I get some odd looks from the teller as I dig into my purse and dig out fists of cash and say, "I think there should about about $3,500 there....." (Anxious look from one teller to the other, since the other one has nothing to do since it's not like people have money to deposit these days. A look that says, "She doesn't look like a drug dealer....") I will have to be cautious in case I am ever over in the U.S. for a while so that I don't withdraw and deposit enough to actually trigger a Suspicious Activity Report at some bank!
(While a rather unattractive photo of me, the photo at the top includes a fan of some of the currency from the last trip to the U.S. I didn't have time to scatter it around on the floor and roll around in it. ;-) Since I return to Germany on a Sunday that trip, Citibank wasn't open so my brother was kind enough to deposit for me since I left on a Sunday. And so begin the Preuscher Drug Syndicate Suspicions....)
11 June 2009 - Roamin' (Roman) Around
A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to attend two consecutive conferences in Rome. While both conferences were excellent, they didn't allow for opportunities to see much of the city except for views from taxis or buses on the way to dinner. Alas, hotels for the respective conferences were both at least 20 minutes from the city center, so I couldn't even sneak in a bit of touristing on Sunday afternoon when I arrived. I don't consider viewing the interiors of subterranean conference rooms for hours on end to be true tourist activity. If that is the case, though, I am a HUGE tourist!
There were four moments of slight tourism, however. The night of the first conference, come colleagues of mine from the US and some clients were to have dinner in the city. Me and a bunch of guys, so I knew it would be a fun evening. The guy who arranged the dinner is known for his skill at selecting excellent restaurants, both for their ambience and service as well as the food and beverages. This was no exception. We piled into two taxis and headed into the city. The restaurant was located down some narrow cobblestone back alleys that I guess qualify as streets in Rome, but somehow the cabbie managed to get there.
Great evening. Until we left the restaurant. There were, not surprisingly, taxis waiting outside in the alley to whisk us away and the guys thought it would be nice to walk around a bit. Uhhh.... I forgot to mention that I was wearing my favorite new pair of shoes -- some hot dark red (think metallic clearcoat paint on a vehicle -- that pretty!) Christian Louboutins that, while remarkably comfortable, have a very narrow and somewhat high heel. Combine those shoes with the idea of walking in the dark on uneven cobblestone streets that are just begging to catch that heel and either damage it or send me sprawling when it latches on to said heel and I keep walking. Not good. And then the guys couldn't quite figure out where to get a cab. Not such good times. But the food was good. And the shoes survived and still look great! (I would have included a photo here, but I figured that might be totally disrespectful to Rome.)
The second adventure was the following night when we sponsored a reception at the residence of the Charge d'Affaires of the US Ambassador to Italy (or something like that). Three buses transported us from the conference hotel to the residence. Or, in the case of the bus, KINDA to the residence. The bus was attempting to turn into a very narrow street and simply could not make the angle without running over a small car parked on the street. After about 10 minutes of sitting there, the bus started backing out into two lanes of oncoming traffic. Delightful. But having seen Rome traffic and its lack of structure, I guess this is something approaching ordinary. So the bus heads another way and I figured it would approach the venue from another direction. Um, no. Instead, it drove away and just let us out with no further directions. Uhhh.... So we had to walk about five minutes from there up to the point where the bus had backed out (why it couldn't have simply let us off there is a mystery), and then another 5-10 minute walk to the residence. Fortunately someone in our bus knew which way to go! Equally fortunate is that I had changed into cobblestone-ready shoes.... I'm not entirely stupid.
The third event was a brief wander around parts of the city with one of my colleagues from Poland who had been to the city before. We had a couple of hours after the end of the first conference before we had to start focusing on the second conference, so one of my colleagues from Poland who had visited the city before was gracious enough to wander around with me for a couple hours. Not nearly enough to see all the sights, but we were able to go through the Basilica, which was my primary objective, and also saw some other places.
One of the noteworthy areas was the Spanish Steps. The steps themselves were somewhat unremarkable. What was interesting was that they were totally crowded with, um, Spaniards. And other Barcelona soccer fans. Turns out that Wednesday was also the evening when the Champions League final between Barcelona and Manchester United would be played there in Rome. The city was full of fans, with an apparent strong majority of Barcelona fans if the jerseys were any indication. (We were also close to fame the night before as we had dined -- post cocktail reception -- at an outdoor cafe from which we watched the arrival of the bus of one of the teams and the crazy fans who were waiting for it.) I watched the game with the large gathering at our hotel that night. Barcelona won rather handily, 2-0.
The last night I was in Rome, we hosted at dinner at what I can only describe as a beautiful, old Italian villa overlooking the city. We arrived just before sunset, the weather had cooled off a bit, and it was just beautiful. The photo doesn't do it justice.
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