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July 23, 2011
vor 15 Jahren
Dienstag, 3. März 2009
Mural Building in Kreuzberg
I was walking in Kreuzberg on Saturday when I came across this radically painted building.
Anthony Bourdain Wuz Here!
As promised, here are pictures of the world-famous (really?) Curry 36.
The people in the bottom right corner of that last photo look like I caught them in the act!
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| Von 2009 February |
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| Von 2009 February |
The people in the bottom right corner of that last photo look like I caught them in the act!
Torn Curtain Vlog
This week's vlog is all about going to see Torn Curtain, the first movie I've seen about Berlin since living here.
DEN KINDERN EIN VORBILD!
Claudia was right! I found a crosswalk button that says: "Only on Green: A Good Example for the Children!"
Donnerstag, 26. Februar 2009
Partymusik!
What would you get if you took a stadium full of rowdy, drunk, costumed football fanatics and put them in a small, dark room together?
Answer: Karneval.
The most interesting part of Karneval is so-called German party music.
You don't dance to German party music. You hop up and down. Or you form a circle with ten of your best buddies and sway from side to side in time to the music.
You're supposed to sing along, and they'll play the same songs multiple times throughout the night so by the end of the night you'll know all the songs even if you didn't when you came in.
Be careful. The following video is really loud.
Cologne is the big Karneval town in Germany, kind of like New Orleans is in the U.S. So a lot of the songs were about Cologne. For example, they changed the lyrics from "New York, New York" to be about Cologne.
My favorite song of the night was one called Wasser von Köln, a gospel ode to beer.
Germany.
Answer: Karneval.
The most interesting part of Karneval is so-called German party music.
You don't dance to German party music. You hop up and down. Or you form a circle with ten of your best buddies and sway from side to side in time to the music.
You're supposed to sing along, and they'll play the same songs multiple times throughout the night so by the end of the night you'll know all the songs even if you didn't when you came in.
Be careful. The following video is really loud.
Cologne is the big Karneval town in Germany, kind of like New Orleans is in the U.S. So a lot of the songs were about Cologne. For example, they changed the lyrics from "New York, New York" to be about Cologne.
My favorite song of the night was one called Wasser von Köln, a gospel ode to beer.
Germany.
Dienstag, 24. Februar 2009
Work Your Tongue
I don't want to talk with an accent.
Some accents, if they're not too thick, are crazysexycool. Like a Russian accent. Or a Spanish accent. Or French.
But I don't think an American accent is like that. My guess is that it sounds just plain dumb. You know, like a Chinese accent, which sounds like a speech impediment. Or a Boston accent, which sounds like the aftereffects of a trip to the dentist.
Berliners have an uncanny knack for speaking English with only the faintest accent, but one of my favorite things is when they intentionally lay it on thick. They sound exactly like Augustus Gloop.
I can instantly recognize an American accent, and the biggest problem with it is that it makes the German language sound terrible. It's the worst of two worlds: all the sloppy sh's and schpl's of German with all the hard ick's and rrr's of English. It sounds like a nerd trying to curse.
I'm pretty good at foreign accents and I've always looked down on students who were too embarrassed even to try making strange sounds. But the more German I speak, the harder it gets to speak without my native accent.
You see, speaking with a foreign accent is a *physical* as well as a mental challenge. I mean, it's actually physically difficult to make the sounds. When you're only saying a word or a single sentence, it's not so bad, but when you've got to talk for several hours, your tongue and lips just get tired!
If you learned to talk in one accent, it is pretty difficult to talk in another. Every syllable requires deliberate effort. And it tends to fall off when you're tired or...otherwise impaired.
You know, it's like back when you learned handwriting. Remember how your hand used to hurt from holding the pencil for so long, and how it took so much concentration and effort to make sure you stayed within the lines and made the right shapes?
Well, speaking German is like practicing grammar school handwriting, except you have to write with your tongue.
Some accents, if they're not too thick, are crazysexycool. Like a Russian accent. Or a Spanish accent. Or French.
But I don't think an American accent is like that. My guess is that it sounds just plain dumb. You know, like a Chinese accent, which sounds like a speech impediment. Or a Boston accent, which sounds like the aftereffects of a trip to the dentist.
Berliners have an uncanny knack for speaking English with only the faintest accent, but one of my favorite things is when they intentionally lay it on thick. They sound exactly like Augustus Gloop.
I can instantly recognize an American accent, and the biggest problem with it is that it makes the German language sound terrible. It's the worst of two worlds: all the sloppy sh's and schpl's of German with all the hard ick's and rrr's of English. It sounds like a nerd trying to curse.
I'm pretty good at foreign accents and I've always looked down on students who were too embarrassed even to try making strange sounds. But the more German I speak, the harder it gets to speak without my native accent.
You see, speaking with a foreign accent is a *physical* as well as a mental challenge. I mean, it's actually physically difficult to make the sounds. When you're only saying a word or a single sentence, it's not so bad, but when you've got to talk for several hours, your tongue and lips just get tired!
If you learned to talk in one accent, it is pretty difficult to talk in another. Every syllable requires deliberate effort. And it tends to fall off when you're tired or...otherwise impaired.
You know, it's like back when you learned handwriting. Remember how your hand used to hurt from holding the pencil for so long, and how it took so much concentration and effort to make sure you stayed within the lines and made the right shapes?
Well, speaking German is like practicing grammar school handwriting, except you have to write with your tongue.
Sonntag, 22. Februar 2009
Cruel Trick
The other night I made some lady get on the wrong train.
Well, I didn't *make* her. And anyway, that's what you get for relying on a stranger to navigate your trip through Berlin at 1 am.
I've told you before that on weekdays öffentliches Verkehrsmittel (that's public transportation to you Yanks) goes completely off the rails after midnight.
By that I mean trains between points A and Z just suddenly stop at point E and the conductor tells you to get off. Then you have to wait 10 minutes for another train to come along and take you to point F, at which time the conductor tells you to get off again.
You know, German's not the most pleasant language, but I have to admit that "Bitte alle aussteigen" sounds a lot more polite than "Everyone please get off."
Anyway, so that's what happened. And there I was standing on the platform in the cold. That's when some lady asked me, in English, which train went to point A.
I told her I didn't know. Then I told her that the train I had just gotten off of had come from point A, so it probably wasn't that one.
Unfortunately, she believed me.
She went and got on the other train.
No sooner had she done so than the doors closed and the train she was on started going in the wrong direction.
Then the train I had warned her away from, my old train, closed its doors and reversed its course, heading backwards toward point A.
The funny thing was, the wrong train that I made the lady get on? That's the train *I* wanted to be on. I had to take a series of buses home.
Well, I didn't *make* her. And anyway, that's what you get for relying on a stranger to navigate your trip through Berlin at 1 am.
I've told you before that on weekdays öffentliches Verkehrsmittel (that's public transportation to you Yanks) goes completely off the rails after midnight.
By that I mean trains between points A and Z just suddenly stop at point E and the conductor tells you to get off. Then you have to wait 10 minutes for another train to come along and take you to point F, at which time the conductor tells you to get off again.
You know, German's not the most pleasant language, but I have to admit that "Bitte alle aussteigen" sounds a lot more polite than "Everyone please get off."
Anyway, so that's what happened. And there I was standing on the platform in the cold. That's when some lady asked me, in English, which train went to point A.
I told her I didn't know. Then I told her that the train I had just gotten off of had come from point A, so it probably wasn't that one.
Unfortunately, she believed me.
She went and got on the other train.
No sooner had she done so than the doors closed and the train she was on started going in the wrong direction.
Then the train I had warned her away from, my old train, closed its doors and reversed its course, heading backwards toward point A.
The funny thing was, the wrong train that I made the lady get on? That's the train *I* wanted to be on. I had to take a series of buses home.
Germans are Stupid
Friends of the blog know how I feel about jaywalking. I eagerly promote it. And I scoff at those who object to it. I scoff heartily.
But in Berlin, jaywalking or bei Rot laufen, is seen as bad behavior. I've been publicly scolded for doing it. Deutsch-slapped. An old woman literally shouted at me across the street.
Well, Germans are just stupid.
Or so I thought.
You know how Europeans don't drink tap water because there's this sort of common understanding that tap water is dirty? (God knows why they don't use ice).
Well, it turns out there's a similar explanation for why they don't cross on red.
My language partner explained to me that she was once stopped by the police for jaywalking. Now, that's reason enough to be careful. But *why* would the police stop anyone for jaywalking? It's just absurd.
Then Claudia explained that the police rebuked her for...setting a bad example for children.
You see, according to German common sense, jaywalking makes one a veritable pied piper. All the children within sight will follow your lead, step off the curb without looking both ways, and get hit by speeding cars.
When Claudia told me this, I couldn't resist shouting in German at her across the table at the restaurant: "YOU ALMOST MURDERED A CHILD!"
Not nice, I know, but I had too. My favorite moral equivalence arguments are the ones that equate something totally innocuous with murdering babies.
So you can see, can't you, why jaywalking would be so highly frowned on here? I mean, insofar as you see something wrong with kids getting hit by cars. Which is the part I'm still having trouble with.
I told Claudia that parents are solely responsible for their own kids. I'm not responsible if I set a bad example for your dog and he follows me out into the street and becomes roadkill. Keep him on a leash. The same goes for your kids.
I know some American lady once wrote a book called "It Takes a Village", suggesting (at least by the title) that one is responsible for raising other people's children. Which is clearly foolish.
Right?
Suppose, for the sake of argument, that I make the world a more dangerous place for children by jaywalking. Have I done something wrong?
But in Berlin, jaywalking or bei Rot laufen, is seen as bad behavior. I've been publicly scolded for doing it. Deutsch-slapped. An old woman literally shouted at me across the street.
Well, Germans are just stupid.
Or so I thought.
You know how Europeans don't drink tap water because there's this sort of common understanding that tap water is dirty? (God knows why they don't use ice).
Well, it turns out there's a similar explanation for why they don't cross on red.
My language partner explained to me that she was once stopped by the police for jaywalking. Now, that's reason enough to be careful. But *why* would the police stop anyone for jaywalking? It's just absurd.
Then Claudia explained that the police rebuked her for...setting a bad example for children.
You see, according to German common sense, jaywalking makes one a veritable pied piper. All the children within sight will follow your lead, step off the curb without looking both ways, and get hit by speeding cars.
When Claudia told me this, I couldn't resist shouting in German at her across the table at the restaurant: "YOU ALMOST MURDERED A CHILD!"
Not nice, I know, but I had too. My favorite moral equivalence arguments are the ones that equate something totally innocuous with murdering babies.
So you can see, can't you, why jaywalking would be so highly frowned on here? I mean, insofar as you see something wrong with kids getting hit by cars. Which is the part I'm still having trouble with.
I told Claudia that parents are solely responsible for their own kids. I'm not responsible if I set a bad example for your dog and he follows me out into the street and becomes roadkill. Keep him on a leash. The same goes for your kids.
I know some American lady once wrote a book called "It Takes a Village", suggesting (at least by the title) that one is responsible for raising other people's children. Which is clearly foolish.
Right?
Suppose, for the sake of argument, that I make the world a more dangerous place for children by jaywalking. Have I done something wrong?
Freitag, 20. Februar 2009
Buongiorno, meune Freunde, und Bon Apetite! Now Let's Eat Sushi!
It's Vlog time again! Hear all about my exotic new language partner.
Addendum
No sooner had I learned yesterday's German phrase than I started to see these posters all over Berlin. They advertise Berlin's Museum Island with a play on yesterday's phrase.
They promise "mehr sein als Schein", or more substance that show!
Incidentally, I took this photo while waiting for the night bus. I missed the last train to my neighborhood. Ugh. Don't go out during the week if you live am Arsch der Welt.
They promise "mehr sein als Schein", or more substance that show!
Incidentally, I took this photo while waiting for the night bus. I missed the last train to my neighborhood. Ugh. Don't go out during the week if you live am Arsch der Welt.
Donnerstag, 19. Februar 2009
German phrase of the week
mehr Schein als sein
My language partner taught me this week's phrase. She was referring to L.A. (although she's never been there).
"Mehr Schein als sein" (mare shine alce zEYEn) literally means "more appearance than being", which sounds rather Heideggerian, but it actually just means all flash and no substance.
My language partner taught me this week's phrase. She was referring to L.A. (although she's never been there).
"Mehr Schein als sein" (mare shine alce zEYEn) literally means "more appearance than being", which sounds rather Heideggerian, but it actually just means all flash and no substance.
Mittwoch, 18. Februar 2009
I Hate America
OK, so that's not true. I don't hate America. I love America. America's the best. No other country really holds a candle to it. America, you are beautiful, in every single way. Words can't bring you down. I would rather be American than any other nationality. Except for maybe half French/half Japanese like Sophie Fatale in Kill Bill. But then, she got her arm chopped off, so which is better in the long run: an American philosopher with both arms or a Franco-Japanese assassin with only one? Too close to call. So I'm sticking with American.
Nevertheless, could somebody please, please take a second to answer this simple, straightforward question for me: American beer, really?
After living in Berlin for five months, I've come to expect certain things from beer. Things like variety. Things like alcohol content. Things like flavor.
On all fronts, American beer, you disappoint me. Deeply.
I wouldn't water the plants with American beer.
If all the American beer in the world were on fire, I wouldn't pour one ounce of German beer on it to put it out.
If I were dying of thirst in the desert and I came across an ice cold American beer, I would use my last drop of bodily moisture to spit on it and keep crawling.
Yes, sometimes Germans do weird disgusting things to beer. Like combine it with green syrup, shots of alcohol, or soda. That's because German beer is indomitable. It's resilient. It can take all sorts of humiliation and still not lose its essential dignity.
I don't know what it is. I don't think it's the often-touted 500 year old Reinheitsgebot, the German beer purity regulations, which are no longer enforced and are often subject to exaggerated claims of compliance.
All I know is that German beer is to American beer what a French baguette is to Wonder bread, what a fresh Krispy Kreme doughnut is to a marshmallow Peep, what Manhattan is to any other island in the world.
I'm looking at you, American beer. You ought to be ashamed.
Nevertheless, could somebody please, please take a second to answer this simple, straightforward question for me: American beer, really?
After living in Berlin for five months, I've come to expect certain things from beer. Things like variety. Things like alcohol content. Things like flavor.
On all fronts, American beer, you disappoint me. Deeply.
I wouldn't water the plants with American beer.
If all the American beer in the world were on fire, I wouldn't pour one ounce of German beer on it to put it out.
If I were dying of thirst in the desert and I came across an ice cold American beer, I would use my last drop of bodily moisture to spit on it and keep crawling.
Yes, sometimes Germans do weird disgusting things to beer. Like combine it with green syrup, shots of alcohol, or soda. That's because German beer is indomitable. It's resilient. It can take all sorts of humiliation and still not lose its essential dignity.
I don't know what it is. I don't think it's the often-touted 500 year old Reinheitsgebot, the German beer purity regulations, which are no longer enforced and are often subject to exaggerated claims of compliance.
All I know is that German beer is to American beer what a French baguette is to Wonder bread, what a fresh Krispy Kreme doughnut is to a marshmallow Peep, what Manhattan is to any other island in the world.
I'm looking at you, American beer. You ought to be ashamed.
Dienstag, 17. Februar 2009
German Food
I've collected a couple interesting photos of German food for you.
I saw this at the grocery store yesterday. It's a package of trail mix called "Student Feed".
At McDonald's they have, for a limited time, as they say, special rustic Austrian treats, such as this burger on a cheese and onion bun with bacon and a hash brown in it. It's called the Big Rösti.
I had one. It was good, but the burger alone was 4 euros. McD's and BK are both a lot more expensive here.
And finally, I feel like I no longer qualify as an American after preparing for myself this lunch of pickled herring on bread yesterday.
It just doesn't look much like something an American would go for, does it?
I saw this at the grocery store yesterday. It's a package of trail mix called "Student Feed".
At McDonald's they have, for a limited time, as they say, special rustic Austrian treats, such as this burger on a cheese and onion bun with bacon and a hash brown in it. It's called the Big Rösti.
I had one. It was good, but the burger alone was 4 euros. McD's and BK are both a lot more expensive here.
And finally, I feel like I no longer qualify as an American after preparing for myself this lunch of pickled herring on bread yesterday.
It just doesn't look much like something an American would go for, does it?
Montag, 16. Februar 2009
Green Beer
Elizabeth tried to explain to me how and why the beer I ordered for her was green.
Evidently this one beer (Berliner Weisse?) is supposed to be really bitter. So you can order it with a shot of syrup added. If you order it red, they add raspberry flavored syrup and it turns red. If you order it green, they add Woodruff flavored syrup and it turns green.
Do those words mean anything to anyone? Because I'm still deeply perplexed and more than a little frightened. Berlin is like Wonkaland sometimes.
Evidently this one beer (Berliner Weisse?) is supposed to be really bitter. So you can order it with a shot of syrup added. If you order it red, they add raspberry flavored syrup and it turns red. If you order it green, they add Woodruff flavored syrup and it turns green.
Do those words mean anything to anyone? Because I'm still deeply perplexed and more than a little frightened. Berlin is like Wonkaland sometimes.
Freitag, 13. Februar 2009
Dienstag, 10. Februar 2009
Speaking a Foreign Language is Like
...being quizzed on the multiplication table, except the table has 750 rows and columns, and the questions are embedded, so it's like "What's 623 times (117 times (58 times (345 times 6)))?" And then you have to answer by giving the square root of that. Times pi.
So I finally got a German conversation partner! Here's what I learned in 90 minutes of intense cultural and philosophical conversation:
1) All that grammar stuff you learned really matters. Like the genders, the cases, the prepositions, the conjugations. They matter because everyone notices every mistake you make, and each one makes you difficult to understand.
2) Speaking German to non-Germans doesn't count. It's like the difference between playing Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots and having an actual street fight.
3) When your partner says, "there are people in Germany who speak worse German than you", she's actually trying to boost your self-esteem, not make you feel worthless.
4) Evidently, there are people in Germany who speak worse German than I do! Take that, migrant workers, tourists, and mentally disabled people!
So I finally got a German conversation partner! Here's what I learned in 90 minutes of intense cultural and philosophical conversation:
1) All that grammar stuff you learned really matters. Like the genders, the cases, the prepositions, the conjugations. They matter because everyone notices every mistake you make, and each one makes you difficult to understand.
2) Speaking German to non-Germans doesn't count. It's like the difference between playing Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots and having an actual street fight.
3) When your partner says, "there are people in Germany who speak worse German than you", she's actually trying to boost your self-esteem, not make you feel worthless.
4) Evidently, there are people in Germany who speak worse German than I do! Take that, migrant workers, tourists, and mentally disabled people!
Montag, 9. Februar 2009
Ladykracher 4. Staffel - Deutschunterricht
Does anyone reading this blog have any idea why this video is so funny? I saw the sketch, about a woman teaching German to some Turkish students, on TV a few months ago and was very tickled.
The funny thing is, their German is *perfect*, and what she's teaching them is the vulgar, sloppy, street German that, in the world of the sketch, is the proper way for Turkish Germans to speak.
I hope you can enjoy the sketch knowing no more than that. Well, also it might help to know that "du Hure" means, "you whore".
Berlinale Vlog
Today the blog gets too big for its britches. Forget blogging, screw podcasting, it's time for a vlog-about-town extraordinaire!
Ironically, the editing is *terrible*. I blame it all on my software.
Ironically, the editing is *terrible*. I blame it all on my software.
Freitag, 6. Februar 2009
All Aboard the Flirt Express!
Move over, Paris. Berlin is now Europe's most romantic city. On February 13th, the S-Bahn becomes the love boat. All aboard the Flirt Express!
Mittwoch, 4. Februar 2009
Anthropology
I forgot my PIN at the grocery store checkout on Monday evening. They took my groceries and I had to walk home to get the PIN and take the bus back. Fortunately, all my stuff was there in my cart waiting when I returned.
I discovered that under stress I can neither speak nor understand German.
I went to the mall and stopped into a store that had Levi's. Their dressing rooms were booths with short doors, so you could actually stand there without your pants on and look all the other shoppers in the eye.
I realized that when I'm nervous, like when I'm standing half-naked in the middle of a store trying to speak German to a salesman, I sweat a lot.
I discovered that under stress I can neither speak nor understand German.
I went to the mall and stopped into a store that had Levi's. Their dressing rooms were booths with short doors, so you could actually stand there without your pants on and look all the other shoppers in the eye.
I realized that when I'm nervous, like when I'm standing half-naked in the middle of a store trying to speak German to a salesman, I sweat a lot.
Montag, 2. Februar 2009
Mittwoch, 28. Januar 2009
Sweet or Salty?
I love popcorn. Probably not as much as my mother does, but still, it's one of my favorite snacks.
When I moved to Germany I had no idea I'd be giving it up. But that's what happens when you don't have a microwave.
After four months of deprivation, I decided popcorn would be a nice treat. So on Friday night I went to the movies with the goal of eating a popcorn dinner. Well, that, and seeing Vicky Christina Barcelona. But the movie was secondary.
Maybe that's why popcorn is so expensive at the movies -- because people without microwaves will pay almost anything for it.
Just like in the US, popcorn and a drink was the same price as a movie ticket. Of course one difference is that Bier rather than Coke is the drink of choice at a Berlin movie theater.
Speaking of that, do you know the difference between beer and Bier? Just this: there is no such thing as a) bad Bier or b) expensive Bier. Ah, Berlin.
I asked the concession stand girl for a medium popcorn. Unexpectedly, she asked (auf Deutsch) "Sweet or salty?"
Now, it's a well known fact that sweet popcorn is completely disgusting. Like salty milk. Anyone who likes it is infantile. Or German. Or both.
So, with a horrified expression I responded, "NOT sweet." She understood. Disaster averted.
But when I got the popcorn I realized, to my great disappointment, that it was white. Not yellow. Where was that artificial butter powder that makes popcorn so savory? Missing. And where were the giant tubs with the levers that squirt artificial liquid butter? Nowhere.
It's not the little things, you know? It's not having no friends, no family, no holidays, no car, no Internet, no personality, and no clue what anyone is ever talking about that get you. It's the big things, like the lack of at least two different matter states of artificial butter, that really make you homesick.
When I moved to Germany I had no idea I'd be giving it up. But that's what happens when you don't have a microwave.
After four months of deprivation, I decided popcorn would be a nice treat. So on Friday night I went to the movies with the goal of eating a popcorn dinner. Well, that, and seeing Vicky Christina Barcelona. But the movie was secondary.
Maybe that's why popcorn is so expensive at the movies -- because people without microwaves will pay almost anything for it.
Just like in the US, popcorn and a drink was the same price as a movie ticket. Of course one difference is that Bier rather than Coke is the drink of choice at a Berlin movie theater.
Speaking of that, do you know the difference between beer and Bier? Just this: there is no such thing as a) bad Bier or b) expensive Bier. Ah, Berlin.
I asked the concession stand girl for a medium popcorn. Unexpectedly, she asked (auf Deutsch) "Sweet or salty?"
Now, it's a well known fact that sweet popcorn is completely disgusting. Like salty milk. Anyone who likes it is infantile. Or German. Or both.
So, with a horrified expression I responded, "NOT sweet." She understood. Disaster averted.
But when I got the popcorn I realized, to my great disappointment, that it was white. Not yellow. Where was that artificial butter powder that makes popcorn so savory? Missing. And where were the giant tubs with the levers that squirt artificial liquid butter? Nowhere.
It's not the little things, you know? It's not having no friends, no family, no holidays, no car, no Internet, no personality, and no clue what anyone is ever talking about that get you. It's the big things, like the lack of at least two different matter states of artificial butter, that really make you homesick.
Dienstag, 27. Januar 2009
German Word of the Week
der Vokuhila
Short for vorne kurz hinten lang, or 'short in the front, long in the back', Vokuhila (fo koo HEE luh) is the German word for mullet.
A modern version is actually quite popular at the moment in Neuköln and among certain Berlin hipsters.
Short for vorne kurz hinten lang, or 'short in the front, long in the back', Vokuhila (fo koo HEE luh) is the German word for mullet.
A modern version is actually quite popular at the moment in Neuköln and among certain Berlin hipsters.
Montag, 26. Januar 2009
Time for your Weekly Vlogging
Watch it! Love it! Understand that when I say "non-fictional" I really mean 'fictional' but I wasn't going to rerecord the whole video just to fix one flub!
Donnerstag, 22. Januar 2009
Move over Herbert Groenemeyer
I was so moved by the following song, I just had to share it with you guys. It had me in tears. Tears!
I'll translate the first stanza for you:
"I had seen him on the TV, for over a year.
At first I was skeptical, but at the end it was all clear to me:
if one man can change something, then surely it is he.
And if I were there, I too, would have cried:
Yes we can!"
And I used to think German pop music was mostly middle aged crooners singing overwrought, earnestly sentimental rubbish!
Dienstag, 20. Januar 2009
Finally, an interlocutor!
My cousin Drew just sent me the most amazing gift: my very own Nietzsche finger puppet!
Now I've got a German language partner, a philosophical interlocutor, a conversation piece, and a new toy, all in one. Thanks, Cuz!
Now I've got a German language partner, a philosophical interlocutor, a conversation piece, and a new toy, all in one. Thanks, Cuz!
Sonntag, 18. Januar 2009
Samstag, 17. Januar 2009
Hooray for Bollywood!
They sat within view of the Brooklyn bridge drinking Starbucks.
The woman was impossibly beautiful and the man was an unattractive goofball. I guess he was supposed to be charming. They spoke English (if my lip-reading skills can be trusted) but they were dubbed into German. Suddenly, they broke into an extravagant song and dance number in some language I didn't recognize, except for the refrain, which included the phrase "Rock N' Roll".
This must be Bollywood.
The film I saw this afternoon on German TV, whose German title, Bis dass das Glueck uns scheidet, roughly translates, 'Til Fortune do us part', was a basic cheesy romantic comedy set in Manhattan, with a few differences.
All the characters were Indian. I wonder, is it typical to set a Bollywood movie outside India? I guess that's pretty typical of Hollywood movies, too.
The men were overcostumed in a euro-trashy rather than the typical L.A.-trashy way. The women, on the other hand, were stunning, and perfectly put together.
Then there were the crazy Indian-pop musical numbers, which were a little startling, but that doesn't mean I didn't like them. At least the big dance numbers, which included an array of showgirls in vivid saris. The ballads, on the other hand, were shot just like a Celine Dion video (read 'very bad').
The acting was good, but the story was emotionally overwrought. More so than a typical Hollywood romcom? It's hard to say, but I think so.
It was definitely much more glamorous than most recent Hollywood movies and, ahem, most recent German movies. And that always gets two thumbs up from me.
The woman was impossibly beautiful and the man was an unattractive goofball. I guess he was supposed to be charming. They spoke English (if my lip-reading skills can be trusted) but they were dubbed into German. Suddenly, they broke into an extravagant song and dance number in some language I didn't recognize, except for the refrain, which included the phrase "Rock N' Roll".
This must be Bollywood.
The film I saw this afternoon on German TV, whose German title, Bis dass das Glueck uns scheidet, roughly translates, 'Til Fortune do us part', was a basic cheesy romantic comedy set in Manhattan, with a few differences.
All the characters were Indian. I wonder, is it typical to set a Bollywood movie outside India? I guess that's pretty typical of Hollywood movies, too.
The men were overcostumed in a euro-trashy rather than the typical L.A.-trashy way. The women, on the other hand, were stunning, and perfectly put together.
Then there were the crazy Indian-pop musical numbers, which were a little startling, but that doesn't mean I didn't like them. At least the big dance numbers, which included an array of showgirls in vivid saris. The ballads, on the other hand, were shot just like a Celine Dion video (read 'very bad').
The acting was good, but the story was emotionally overwrought. More so than a typical Hollywood romcom? It's hard to say, but I think so.
It was definitely much more glamorous than most recent Hollywood movies and, ahem, most recent German movies. And that always gets two thumbs up from me.
Freitag, 16. Januar 2009
High Tech!
I'm posting this from my brand new cell phone. Not exactly the most comfortable way to type, but at least I have something resembling the Internet at home now. Stay tuned for a thrilling new video blog post soon!
Mittwoch, 14. Januar 2009
Samstag, 10. Januar 2009
Germany's Secrets Revealed
I finally met friend-of-the-blog and echt Berliner, Anton, last night. Sadly, in my excitement about picking his brain for all things German, I neglected to get a picture of us.
Although I still have half a million questions for him, I did manage to ask the other half million last night. Here are just a few of his answers.
Leash laws: yes, they do have them in Berlin, but they may vary by breed and location. So, for instance, maybe in the park one doesn't need a leash (that means joggers, children, and small dogs, betreten auf eigene Gefahr!), but on the street big, dangerous dogs need a leash and a muzzle.
Das Christkind: yes, Baby Jesus does bring presents to Bavarian kids. It is unclear how he delivers them. I picture a rocket-powered manger.
Tipping the waiter: you're supposed to round up to the nearest dollar when you pay, even when the waiter corrects your pronunciation when you order, as happened to Halley last night.
Closing time: Germany is now a "liberal" shopping paradise compared to recent years, when all shops were required to close at 6 pm and remain closed the entire weekend.
And here's some bonus information I gleaned last night from another echt German, Martin. The Netherlands are to Germany as Kentucky is to Indiana, Arkansas is to Texas, and West Virginia is to the whole U.S.
It was a pleasure to meet you, Anton. Have a safe trip back to Canada, eh?
Although I still have half a million questions for him, I did manage to ask the other half million last night. Here are just a few of his answers.
Leash laws: yes, they do have them in Berlin, but they may vary by breed and location. So, for instance, maybe in the park one doesn't need a leash (that means joggers, children, and small dogs, betreten auf eigene Gefahr!), but on the street big, dangerous dogs need a leash and a muzzle.
Das Christkind: yes, Baby Jesus does bring presents to Bavarian kids. It is unclear how he delivers them. I picture a rocket-powered manger.
Tipping the waiter: you're supposed to round up to the nearest dollar when you pay, even when the waiter corrects your pronunciation when you order, as happened to Halley last night.
Closing time: Germany is now a "liberal" shopping paradise compared to recent years, when all shops were required to close at 6 pm and remain closed the entire weekend.
And here's some bonus information I gleaned last night from another echt German, Martin. The Netherlands are to Germany as Kentucky is to Indiana, Arkansas is to Texas, and West Virginia is to the whole U.S.
It was a pleasure to meet you, Anton. Have a safe trip back to Canada, eh?
Freitag, 9. Januar 2009
German Word(s) of the Week
das Larifari
Larifari is a word that, like Quatsch and Papperlapapp, means nonsense, hogwash, or balderdash.
I'm not sure what the various nuances of these three words are, but I know that Quatsch! and Papperlapapp! are both what my junior high English teacher used to describe as 'ejaculations'. (Do they still teach kids that?)
Evidently Wischiwaschi has a similar meaning to Larifari, but I haven't yet heard anyone say that one.
Larifari is a word that, like Quatsch and Papperlapapp, means nonsense, hogwash, or balderdash.
I'm not sure what the various nuances of these three words are, but I know that Quatsch! and Papperlapapp! are both what my junior high English teacher used to describe as 'ejaculations'. (Do they still teach kids that?)
Evidently Wischiwaschi has a similar meaning to Larifari, but I haven't yet heard anyone say that one.
Mittwoch, 7. Januar 2009
Berlin is Trying to Kill Me
People who harbor romantic fantasies about the benevolence of nature obviously live relatively close to the equator.
The weather in Berlin has officially gone from uncomfortable to brutal.
Monday was the day I went back to the FU, and it was hard enough. (Dreadlocks? Really, Whitey? Monstrous portions of potatoes and gravy for lunch? I still can't wear my coat in the library?)
But then at 18:00 hours I left the hostile comfort of the library to wait for the bus.
Of course the sky had been black like deep space for hours already. But this time when I walked outside it was like getting snow spilled down the back of my shirt. It was kalt.
There was a large clot of students waiting at the bus stop, which is usually a good sign that there's another bus coming soon. Not this time.
I stood in the snow for 25 minutes. I watched four buses come and go on the other side of the street. I went from shivering to normal back to shivering again. I kept counting my layers to make sure I hadn't forgotten one. T-shirt, shirt, sweater, jacket, coat. Five. Plus scarf and gloves. My hands inside my gloves inside the pockets of my pea coat got cold. I started to wonder how long it takes to get frostbite. I had to keep reminding myself that there were people around to stop me from whimpering.
If I had to die by fire or ice, I'd choose ice. But if I had to live somewhere too hot or too cold, I'd choose too hot.
And it wasn't even that cold on Monday evening, only -8C degrees. In Uh'muhrik'n degrees that's ((-8*9)/5)+32= 18. 18 degrees Fahrenheit! The low predicted for tonight is -14 C, or 7 degrees Fahrenheit.
That is why I've decided not to leave my apartment until spring.
The weather in Berlin has officially gone from uncomfortable to brutal.
Monday was the day I went back to the FU, and it was hard enough. (Dreadlocks? Really, Whitey? Monstrous portions of potatoes and gravy for lunch? I still can't wear my coat in the library?)
But then at 18:00 hours I left the hostile comfort of the library to wait for the bus.
Of course the sky had been black like deep space for hours already. But this time when I walked outside it was like getting snow spilled down the back of my shirt. It was kalt.
There was a large clot of students waiting at the bus stop, which is usually a good sign that there's another bus coming soon. Not this time.
I stood in the snow for 25 minutes. I watched four buses come and go on the other side of the street. I went from shivering to normal back to shivering again. I kept counting my layers to make sure I hadn't forgotten one. T-shirt, shirt, sweater, jacket, coat. Five. Plus scarf and gloves. My hands inside my gloves inside the pockets of my pea coat got cold. I started to wonder how long it takes to get frostbite. I had to keep reminding myself that there were people around to stop me from whimpering.
If I had to die by fire or ice, I'd choose ice. But if I had to live somewhere too hot or too cold, I'd choose too hot.
And it wasn't even that cold on Monday evening, only -8C degrees. In Uh'muhrik'n degrees that's ((-8*9)/5)+32= 18. 18 degrees Fahrenheit! The low predicted for tonight is -14 C, or 7 degrees Fahrenheit.
That is why I've decided not to leave my apartment until spring.
Sonntag, 4. Januar 2009
The Podcastiest Podcast Ever
I'm starting the new year right with a new extravagant podcast explosion!
Freitag, 2. Januar 2009
Yank-slapped!
I have received a perfect suggestion from a friend of the blog for a name for the American version of the Deutsch-slap. I doubt there is such a thing, but if there were, I agree that it would have to be called the Yank-slap.
Mittwoch, 31. Dezember 2008
Viel Spaß an Silvester
I dropped Savannah off at the airport this morning. She should be somewhere over the Atlantic right now.
I estimate that having her in Berlin for Christmas was approximately the most incredibly super awesome thing ever. Ceteris paribus, of course.
Sharing Berlin with her has changed my perception of this place in ways I haven't quite sorted out yet. I'll blog it when it comes.
Until then, enjoy your Silvester and try at all costs to avoid making learning a new language one of your new year's resolutions. In fact, instead of learning a new language, you should resolve to learn Braille instead. Weird idea, right? But you could read in the dark! Enough said.
I estimate that having her in Berlin for Christmas was approximately the most incredibly super awesome thing ever. Ceteris paribus, of course.
Sharing Berlin with her has changed my perception of this place in ways I haven't quite sorted out yet. I'll blog it when it comes.
Until then, enjoy your Silvester and try at all costs to avoid making learning a new language one of your new year's resolutions. In fact, instead of learning a new language, you should resolve to learn Braille instead. Weird idea, right? But you could read in the dark! Enough said.
Sonntag, 28. Dezember 2008
Mittwoch, 24. Dezember 2008
Sightseeing with Savannah
Much to my delight, Savannah arrived on Monday after an exhausting trip halfway across the globe. Yesterday we saw all the sights in downtown Berlin.
I haven't gotten a chance to write any captions yet but you can see the pictures here.
Merry Christmas Eve!
I haven't gotten a chance to write any captions yet but you can see the pictures here.
Merry Christmas Eve!
Sonntag, 21. Dezember 2008
Are You Sick of Christmas Yet?
If not, take a look at some photos of the Gendarmenmarkt and Charlottenburg Christmas markets that I took this week. Here's a preview.
Gendarmenmarkt
Gendarmenmarkt is in the middle of Berlin, just off Unter den Linden (the Champs Elysee of Berlin). It's a market between two big churches.
Charlottenburg
Charlottenburg is in the western part of Berlin and it is where there's a big old castle. Well, by "old" I mean reconstructed, like everything in Berlin besides the Gedächtnis Kirche.
Gendarmenmarkt
Gendarmenmarkt is in the middle of Berlin, just off Unter den Linden (the Champs Elysee of Berlin). It's a market between two big churches.
Charlottenburg
Charlottenburg is in the western part of Berlin and it is where there's a big old castle. Well, by "old" I mean reconstructed, like everything in Berlin besides the Gedächtnis Kirche.
Freitag, 19. Dezember 2008
The Love for Three Oranges
Here's a clip from the opera I went to last night, (I didn't take it, I found it on YouTube), Prokofiev's "The Love for Three Oranges" at the Comic Opera.
It was fun and fantastical and very confusing. I have no idea who the guy in the spoon is, or who anyone else is or what happened for that matter. At any rate it helped wash the taste of the Mozartpocalypse out of my mouth. Or eyes. Or brain. Or whatever. You get it.
Mittwoch, 17. Dezember 2008
Deutsch-slapped! Second Installment
My friend Bruce and I got Deutsch-slapped yesterday afternoon taking pictures at the holocaust memorial.
Granted, we were not exactly being somber and reflective. My excuse is that Bruce (who studies "visual culture" in Sweden) had just reassured me that he took a class in which they learned about this particular memorial and how it was designed for people to be able to play there. I *know* it doesn't sound plausible but who am I to argue with the Swedish education system?
There are men whose job it is (of course) to stand by the holocaust memorial and tell people not to have fun. "No jumping! This is a holocaust memorial!"
Deutsch-slapped!
If one really is supposed to play at the holocaust memorial (I know, I can't believe I believed that) then they shouldn't have put it in Berlin, where playing, even where it is not strictly verboten, is still regarded with suspicion.
And then last night I met Halley and her brother, Trey, at Palm Beach, an absurd little bar where the floor is covered in sand, the heat is jacked up to 85 degrees, and "Cocktail Happy Hour" starts at 6 pm and ends at 5 am.
Shortly after the waitress brought our drinks, I was telling them about getting Deutsch-slapped earlier that day, when the waitress showed up with another drink for Halley. The waitress left both full drinks in front of her and explained very politely that Halley had accidentally ordered both of these drinks, each from a different waitress (she thought they were the same woman) and so she must pay for them. "You must only order your drink once. Do you understand?"
Deutsch-slapped!
And this morning as I was jaywalking across a silent street, an old woman with a walker yelled something (I know not what) at me from across the street. I don't think she was telling me to be careful.
Deutsch-slapped!
Granted, we were not exactly being somber and reflective. My excuse is that Bruce (who studies "visual culture" in Sweden) had just reassured me that he took a class in which they learned about this particular memorial and how it was designed for people to be able to play there. I *know* it doesn't sound plausible but who am I to argue with the Swedish education system?
There are men whose job it is (of course) to stand by the holocaust memorial and tell people not to have fun. "No jumping! This is a holocaust memorial!"
Deutsch-slapped!
If one really is supposed to play at the holocaust memorial (I know, I can't believe I believed that) then they shouldn't have put it in Berlin, where playing, even where it is not strictly verboten, is still regarded with suspicion.
And then last night I met Halley and her brother, Trey, at Palm Beach, an absurd little bar where the floor is covered in sand, the heat is jacked up to 85 degrees, and "Cocktail Happy Hour" starts at 6 pm and ends at 5 am.
Shortly after the waitress brought our drinks, I was telling them about getting Deutsch-slapped earlier that day, when the waitress showed up with another drink for Halley. The waitress left both full drinks in front of her and explained very politely that Halley had accidentally ordered both of these drinks, each from a different waitress (she thought they were the same woman) and so she must pay for them. "You must only order your drink once. Do you understand?"
Deutsch-slapped!
And this morning as I was jaywalking across a silent street, an old woman with a walker yelled something (I know not what) at me from across the street. I don't think she was telling me to be careful.
Deutsch-slapped!
Dienstag, 16. Dezember 2008
DEUTSCH-SLAPPED
Guten Tag Herr Phillips,
vielen Dank für Ihren Auftrag. Wir freuen uns über Ihr Interesse für o2 DSL.
Zu unserem Bedauern müssen wir Ihnen mitteilen, dass wir diesen Auftrag aus internen Gründen nicht weiter bearbeiten können. Wir hoffen auf Ihr Verständnis und verbleiben
mit freundlichen Grüßen
Ihr o2 Team
************************
Good day Mr Phillips,
many thanks for your application. We are pleased by your interest in o2 DSL.
Regrettably, we must share with you that we can no longer work on your application due to internal reasons. We hope you understand and remain
with friendly greetings
your o2 Team.
*************
Understand? What am I supposed to understand exactly?
So German. So formal. So mystifying.
This reminds me of a word my friend Halley uses. When a German tells you you're doing the wrong thing, that something you thought was harmless is verboten, guess what? You just got Deutsch-slapped.
vielen Dank für Ihren Auftrag. Wir freuen uns über Ihr Interesse für o2 DSL.
Zu unserem Bedauern müssen wir Ihnen mitteilen, dass wir diesen Auftrag aus internen Gründen nicht weiter bearbeiten können. Wir hoffen auf Ihr Verständnis und verbleiben
mit freundlichen Grüßen
Ihr o2 Team
************************
Good day Mr Phillips,
many thanks for your application. We are pleased by your interest in o2 DSL.
Regrettably, we must share with you that we can no longer work on your application due to internal reasons. We hope you understand and remain
with friendly greetings
your o2 Team.
*************
Understand? What am I supposed to understand exactly?
So German. So formal. So mystifying.
This reminds me of a word my friend Halley uses. When a German tells you you're doing the wrong thing, that something you thought was harmless is verboten, guess what? You just got Deutsch-slapped.
Montag, 15. Dezember 2008
Freitag, 12. Dezember 2008
German Word(s) of the Week
Das Gammelfleischparty (GAH muhll flysh PAHtee)
Savannah told me about this wonderful word, which was just voted "youth word of the year" by one of the big German dictionary publishers.
Like most German words, Gammelfleischparty is compound. 'Party', you know. 'Fleisch' means meat. 'Gammelig' means old, rotten, or corrupted. Put it all together and it literally translates 'rotten meat party'.
Figuratively, of course, it means a party consisting mostly of people over 30. Yeah. You heard me. Over 30.
If your German's decent you can find the rest of the candidates here.
The word that got second place this year is Bildschirmbräune, or 'computer screen tan', which refers to the pallor of a computer nerd. In Germany a tanning salon is a Bräunungstudio, literally, a 'browning studio'.
I also like number three, unterhopft, literally, 'under-hopped'. That's what you are when you're not drunk enough and you need more beer.
Germany, sometimes I love you.
Savannah told me about this wonderful word, which was just voted "youth word of the year" by one of the big German dictionary publishers.
Like most German words, Gammelfleischparty is compound. 'Party', you know. 'Fleisch' means meat. 'Gammelig' means old, rotten, or corrupted. Put it all together and it literally translates 'rotten meat party'.
Figuratively, of course, it means a party consisting mostly of people over 30. Yeah. You heard me. Over 30.
If your German's decent you can find the rest of the candidates here.
The word that got second place this year is Bildschirmbräune, or 'computer screen tan', which refers to the pallor of a computer nerd. In Germany a tanning salon is a Bräunungstudio, literally, a 'browning studio'.
I also like number three, unterhopft, literally, 'under-hopped'. That's what you are when you're not drunk enough and you need more beer.
Germany, sometimes I love you.
Donnerstag, 11. Dezember 2008
Christmas Markets and Parties
Here are a couple pics from the Christmas market in Potsdam, a suburb of Berlin. It was waaaaay too charming.
I also went out more than a person should this weekend. But on Monday I had seven new facebook friends, so I guess it served a purpose. And I got to go to a 20's-themed party, which is something I've always dreamed of. Not everyone was as good of a sport about it as Halley and I were though.
Oh, and here's the Radio Tower in Charlottenburg that I mentioned in my last podcast.
I also went out more than a person should this weekend. But on Monday I had seven new facebook friends, so I guess it served a purpose. And I got to go to a 20's-themed party, which is something I've always dreamed of. Not everyone was as good of a sport about it as Halley and I were though.
Oh, and here's the Radio Tower in Charlottenburg that I mentioned in my last podcast.
Mittwoch, 10. Dezember 2008
Dienstag, 9. Dezember 2008
What is an American?
Ever since S asked me whether I was thankful to be an American, I've been trying to figure out what that means.
I still don't know. But it's fun to probe.
Like most cultural classifications, being an American seems to be a vague property. That makes it unlike being an American citizen, which is pretty cut and dried. I mean, supposing Charo has citizenship by now, whatever she doesn't have is what being an American is in the sense I mean it.
One thing that has nothing to do with being an American is race. It's not like that in Berlin, where it seems to me that national identity is thought of as more than just a matter of culture, language and citizenship. All black people are African. People with Turkish parents are Turkish, even if they've spent their whole lives in Berlin.
Can one become an American by choice, or is it just something that happens to one?
I think the answer is yes, but if so it's a matter of acquiring a second nature, not just doing or saying a certain thing. One cannot just become an American, but one may make choices that lead one to become an American.
Can one stop being an American? If so, can one do so by choice?
I don't think so. Or, at least, once one is an American it would be very hard to stop being one. John Walker Lindh, for example, was and is an American.
Is it easier for some people to become American?
Yes. Canadians, for example.
Is it harder for some people to become Americans?
Yes. Canadians, for example.
What's the fastest way to seem like an American?
Use the word 'ain't'.
More on this theme later.
I still don't know. But it's fun to probe.
Like most cultural classifications, being an American seems to be a vague property. That makes it unlike being an American citizen, which is pretty cut and dried. I mean, supposing Charo has citizenship by now, whatever she doesn't have is what being an American is in the sense I mean it.
One thing that has nothing to do with being an American is race. It's not like that in Berlin, where it seems to me that national identity is thought of as more than just a matter of culture, language and citizenship. All black people are African. People with Turkish parents are Turkish, even if they've spent their whole lives in Berlin.
Can one become an American by choice, or is it just something that happens to one?
I think the answer is yes, but if so it's a matter of acquiring a second nature, not just doing or saying a certain thing. One cannot just become an American, but one may make choices that lead one to become an American.
Can one stop being an American? If so, can one do so by choice?
I don't think so. Or, at least, once one is an American it would be very hard to stop being one. John Walker Lindh, for example, was and is an American.
Is it easier for some people to become American?
Yes. Canadians, for example.
Is it harder for some people to become Americans?
Yes. Canadians, for example.
What's the fastest way to seem like an American?
Use the word 'ain't'.
More on this theme later.
Montag, 8. Dezember 2008
Freitag, 5. Dezember 2008
Burgeramt/Frühstücksklub
These fabulous people eating gross food are: Catherine, Jill, Jason, and Halley.
Donnerstag, 4. Dezember 2008
Special Thursday Podcast
That's right, liebe Leute, there's a new podcast in town, and it's not even your Weihnachtsgeschenk!
This time I muse, opine, and cavil about the "best burger place in Berlin" and other assorted delights.
This time I muse, opine, and cavil about the "best burger place in Berlin" and other assorted delights.
Dienstag, 2. Dezember 2008
German Word of the Week
schlagfertig
Schlagfertig (SCHLOCK fair tikh) literally means "blow-ready", as in, ready to trade blows. It is an adjective describing someone who is quick-witted.
Incidentally, mit Schlag is one way to order your mocha or hot chocolate. It comes with a "hit" of "beaten" (whipped) cream, aka Schlagsahne. And if you want some liquor in it, order it mit Schuss, "with a shot".
Schlagfertig (SCHLOCK fair tikh) literally means "blow-ready", as in, ready to trade blows. It is an adjective describing someone who is quick-witted.
Incidentally, mit Schlag is one way to order your mocha or hot chocolate. It comes with a "hit" of "beaten" (whipped) cream, aka Schlagsahne. And if you want some liquor in it, order it mit Schuss, "with a shot".
Montag, 1. Dezember 2008
Abortive Panorama Bar Visit
Herr Professor Dr. Phillips has no new podcast for you today, due to the fact that he was outside Panorama Bar at 4 am on Saturday taking this picture.
He didn't actually make it inside, because waiting in line for half an hour in the sub-zero temperatures removed his will to dance. And getting home at 6 am removed his will to podcast the next day.
Not to worry: as a Berlin institution, this particular three-story techno warehouse in the former east will probably still be there the next time he is seized by such an urge.
He didn't actually make it inside, because waiting in line for half an hour in the sub-zero temperatures removed his will to dance. And getting home at 6 am removed his will to podcast the next day.
Not to worry: as a Berlin institution, this particular three-story techno warehouse in the former east will probably still be there the next time he is seized by such an urge.
Donnerstag, 27. November 2008
Dankbarkeit
I am thankful...
that abusing coffee doesn't cause a hangover
that listening to an iPod doesn't cause cancer
that cursing is not illegal
that people can't hear what I'm thinking
for the Käseteller at the FU
that I can effortlessly summon the English words for effortlessness, summoning, and pinky toe
that I have reached 28 without falling apart, breaking down, freaking out, or screwing up (too much)
that no one whose services I currently need is on strike
for navy blue
for the collared shirt, the v-neck sweater, the sport coat, and jeans
for martinis
for autonomy
for taste
that we all get to be young for a while
that ignorance, provincialism, and naivete are all curable
for second nature
that cosmopolitanism is not the same as multiculturalism
for the stability of platonic relationships
that opinions, insofar as they diverge from the truth, are inconsequential
that I was born in New York
that I live in Berlin
Und ich bin auch dankbar, dass ich manchmal ein bisschen Deustch sprechen kann!
Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Thanksgiving
that abusing coffee doesn't cause a hangover
that listening to an iPod doesn't cause cancer
that cursing is not illegal
that people can't hear what I'm thinking
for the Käseteller at the FU
that I can effortlessly summon the English words for effortlessness, summoning, and pinky toe
that I have reached 28 without falling apart, breaking down, freaking out, or screwing up (too much)
that no one whose services I currently need is on strike
for navy blue
for the collared shirt, the v-neck sweater, the sport coat, and jeans
for martinis
for autonomy
for taste
that we all get to be young for a while
that ignorance, provincialism, and naivete are all curable
for second nature
that cosmopolitanism is not the same as multiculturalism
for the stability of platonic relationships
that opinions, insofar as they diverge from the truth, are inconsequential
that I was born in New York
that I live in Berlin
Und ich bin auch dankbar, dass ich manchmal ein bisschen Deustch sprechen kann!
Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Thanksgiving
Mittwoch, 26. November 2008
German Word of the Week
Schnapszahl (SHNAHPS tsahl)
Oh, the fascinating things one learns watching German kid's shows.
In my last podcast I promised you another Schnaps-based German word, and this time it's Schnapszahl.
According to the LEO online German dictionary, the English translation of Schnapszahl is "a multidigit number with all digits identical". Schnapszahl literaly means "Schnaps number".
So 11 is a Schnapszahl. So are 666 and 9.99.
What makes a number a Schnapszahl? The fact that when you drink too much Schnaps you tend to see double.
American kids are missing out on a lot having to grow up watching Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.
Oh, the fascinating things one learns watching German kid's shows.
In my last podcast I promised you another Schnaps-based German word, and this time it's Schnapszahl.
According to the LEO online German dictionary, the English translation of Schnapszahl is "a multidigit number with all digits identical". Schnapszahl literaly means "Schnaps number".
So 11 is a Schnapszahl. So are 666 and 9.99.
What makes a number a Schnapszahl? The fact that when you drink too much Schnaps you tend to see double.
American kids are missing out on a lot having to grow up watching Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.
Dienstag, 25. November 2008
Staabi
So it turns out the Staabi is, like, not a public library. It's more like a national archive. Which explains a lot, and makes me have to take back most of what I said in yesterday's podcast.
But this really is sauerkraut juice.
Anyway, see more pictures of how cool it is inside the Staabi and other Berlin sights (and sites) in my latest Picasa album.
But this really is sauerkraut juice.
Anyway, see more pictures of how cool it is inside the Staabi and other Berlin sights (and sites) in my latest Picasa album.
Sonntag, 23. November 2008
New Podcast
It's always too early for Christmas. I effortlessly remain entzaubert despite the quaint Weihnachtsmärkte breaking out all over Berlin. Oh, and a trip to the "Staabi" gives the lie to German socialism.
Freitag, 21. November 2008
Donnerstag, 20. November 2008
German Word of the Week
"ACHTUNG: SCHWARZFAHRER"
So read a sign on the side of a bus I saw today. What a great word.
Schwarzfahrer literally means black rider; it is used to refer to a person who rides the train or bus without a ticket.
It's also the subject and title of this clever short film by Pepe Danquart that is set in Berlin and won the Oscar in 1993 for best short film.
The film, I cannot stop myself from adding, only very mildly exaggerates the behavior I discussed yesterday of middle-aged Berlin women on public transportation.
So read a sign on the side of a bus I saw today. What a great word.
Schwarzfahrer literally means black rider; it is used to refer to a person who rides the train or bus without a ticket.
It's also the subject and title of this clever short film by Pepe Danquart that is set in Berlin and won the Oscar in 1993 for best short film.
The film, I cannot stop myself from adding, only very mildly exaggerates the behavior I discussed yesterday of middle-aged Berlin women on public transportation.
Mittwoch, 19. November 2008
How To Tell If You're German
Rachel sent me a link to a page called "How to tell if you're German". I'd recommend it if you're interested in getting a better idea of the zeitgeist in Deutschland. I can confirm that a lot of the things on the list are true about Berliners, but I have never been outside Berlin, so I can't say if they're true of Germans more generally.
The first item on the list is well chosen. If you're German, "you think it's you're [sic] right to say your opinion. You may also think that others have the same right".
I say it's well chosen because, although you may know that ping-pong, snooker, and Fussball are popular sports in Germany, you may not be aware of the other national pastime, which is telling people their business.
I've mentioned before that Berliners are aware at all times of what you're supposed to be doing, and they have no scruples about telling you if you're not doing it. This sport is particularly popular among the middle-aged, and middle-aged women are absolutely wild about it.
This morning, for instance, I got on the train and started reading a magazine. Before the train had even started, a middle-aged woman got up from her section three seats away and stood in front of me. After a few seconds, when I was starting to get annoyed, I looked up. She was looking straight at me.
I pulled out one earbud. I only caught two words, one German and one English. The German one was leise, which means soft or softly, volume-wise. The other word she used was 'slowly', which I'm assuming you know. I had no idea what she was talking about or why she was interrupting my reading.
Upon reflection it became clear that she was confused about the difference between the words 'softly' and 'slowly'. She thought the English word for leise was 'slowly', when in fact it's 'softly'.
After observing her gestures, I simply asked, "Die Musik?" That seemed to satisfy her because she walked back to her seat, where she was clearly entrenched in a most delicate operation that required complete silence. On a public train.
Still puzzled and annoyed, trying to understand what made this woman think she had the right to demand that I turn down my earbuds from three seats away on the morning train, I arrived at the FU Mensa where I tried to buy some food.
I've already told you about the silly procedures that require standing in line for a card, standing in line to fill the card, standing in line to pick your food, and standing in line to pay for your food with your card. But there's another procedure, that you are supposed to show your student ID when you pay for your food with your card.
I knew that. But what I learned today is that there is a proper way to fold and display your ID. I was doing it the improper way. See, not only must the middle-aged lady who sits on her Arsch all afternoon taking people's money have to see that you have a student ID, she must also see the date on the ID.
I'm not going to get into why there needs to be a special way of folding the ID, it has to do with the placement of the sticker that functions as a transit pass. All you need to know is that I was given a lesson on ID folding by the aforementioned Frau before she'd let me buy my lunch.
I remember when I told a Polish girl I met at one of the International Club's coffee hours that I thought it was ridiculous how they wouldn't let you bring a bag into the library, and she was nonplussed. But they do let you bring in a bag, she said, as long as it's one of the transparent cellophane bags that you can only buy from them. What's the problem?
The fact that she missed the point suggests that Poland has something in common with Germany that neither of them shares with the US. An American is not grateful for being allowed to do things in a particular manner. We want to be able to do things however the hell we damn well please, as long as it doesn't directly hamper anybody else's ability to do likewise. And we think it's rude to tell other people how to behave, unless those people are children. Your own children.
Americans fervently believe everyone's got a right to her opinion, but it is unbecoming for her to have too many opinions about other people's business. And if she does, she should look down on them secretly and with covert self-righteousness, not openly and with a blatant air of authority and entitlement.
So if there are any Berliners listening, especially of the middle-aged female persuasion, hear my feeble plea: Please don't tell me my business. And please, please don't try to speak English to me unless you actually speak English. It's presumptuous and it makes you look foolish, not exclusively but especially when you're trying to tell me my business.
The first item on the list is well chosen. If you're German, "you think it's you're [sic] right to say your opinion. You may also think that others have the same right".
I say it's well chosen because, although you may know that ping-pong, snooker, and Fussball are popular sports in Germany, you may not be aware of the other national pastime, which is telling people their business.
I've mentioned before that Berliners are aware at all times of what you're supposed to be doing, and they have no scruples about telling you if you're not doing it. This sport is particularly popular among the middle-aged, and middle-aged women are absolutely wild about it.
This morning, for instance, I got on the train and started reading a magazine. Before the train had even started, a middle-aged woman got up from her section three seats away and stood in front of me. After a few seconds, when I was starting to get annoyed, I looked up. She was looking straight at me.
I pulled out one earbud. I only caught two words, one German and one English. The German one was leise, which means soft or softly, volume-wise. The other word she used was 'slowly', which I'm assuming you know. I had no idea what she was talking about or why she was interrupting my reading.
Upon reflection it became clear that she was confused about the difference between the words 'softly' and 'slowly'. She thought the English word for leise was 'slowly', when in fact it's 'softly'.
After observing her gestures, I simply asked, "Die Musik?" That seemed to satisfy her because she walked back to her seat, where she was clearly entrenched in a most delicate operation that required complete silence. On a public train.
Still puzzled and annoyed, trying to understand what made this woman think she had the right to demand that I turn down my earbuds from three seats away on the morning train, I arrived at the FU Mensa where I tried to buy some food.
I've already told you about the silly procedures that require standing in line for a card, standing in line to fill the card, standing in line to pick your food, and standing in line to pay for your food with your card. But there's another procedure, that you are supposed to show your student ID when you pay for your food with your card.
I knew that. But what I learned today is that there is a proper way to fold and display your ID. I was doing it the improper way. See, not only must the middle-aged lady who sits on her Arsch all afternoon taking people's money have to see that you have a student ID, she must also see the date on the ID.
I'm not going to get into why there needs to be a special way of folding the ID, it has to do with the placement of the sticker that functions as a transit pass. All you need to know is that I was given a lesson on ID folding by the aforementioned Frau before she'd let me buy my lunch.
I remember when I told a Polish girl I met at one of the International Club's coffee hours that I thought it was ridiculous how they wouldn't let you bring a bag into the library, and she was nonplussed. But they do let you bring in a bag, she said, as long as it's one of the transparent cellophane bags that you can only buy from them. What's the problem?
The fact that she missed the point suggests that Poland has something in common with Germany that neither of them shares with the US. An American is not grateful for being allowed to do things in a particular manner. We want to be able to do things however the hell we damn well please, as long as it doesn't directly hamper anybody else's ability to do likewise. And we think it's rude to tell other people how to behave, unless those people are children. Your own children.
Americans fervently believe everyone's got a right to her opinion, but it is unbecoming for her to have too many opinions about other people's business. And if she does, she should look down on them secretly and with covert self-righteousness, not openly and with a blatant air of authority and entitlement.
So if there are any Berliners listening, especially of the middle-aged female persuasion, hear my feeble plea: Please don't tell me my business. And please, please don't try to speak English to me unless you actually speak English. It's presumptuous and it makes you look foolish, not exclusively but especially when you're trying to tell me my business.
Dienstag, 18. November 2008
Weihnachstmarkt
Just like in the US, Christmas in Germany starts November 1st and ends in January.
So as of right now, you can go ice skating and tubing (!) in Potsdamer Platz and buy Glühwein and Grog (I haven't tried it yet) in fancy little mugs.
It also means you can buy Festbier, such as Luckenwalder's lecker Weihnachtstraum (Christmas Dream). (See my online beer gallery for that and many more new varieties. I'm becoming a big fan of something called "Würzig" beer).
Find a few more photos from last week, including more from around Potsdamer Platz, in my photo gallery.
So as of right now, you can go ice skating and tubing (!) in Potsdamer Platz and buy Glühwein and Grog (I haven't tried it yet) in fancy little mugs.
It also means you can buy Festbier, such as Luckenwalder's lecker Weihnachtstraum (Christmas Dream). (See my online beer gallery for that and many more new varieties. I'm becoming a big fan of something called "Würzig" beer).
Find a few more photos from last week, including more from around Potsdamer Platz, in my photo gallery.
Montag, 17. November 2008
Podcast 6
Get a hot cup of chocolate, nestle down in a cozy chair, and enjoy my latest fireside radio chat.
Donnerstag, 13. November 2008
Das Schloss
Last Saturday I went shopping at a mall in Steglitz called Das Schloss, The Castle.
I stopped and paid 4 euros for a grande caramel macchiato. It felt just like home!
You can see more pictures in my online Web album for Nov. 1-8.
That's where I took the following video. They projected fish onto the ceiling and there was a guy playing a gong.
I stopped and paid 4 euros for a grande caramel macchiato. It felt just like home!
You can see more pictures in my online Web album for Nov. 1-8.
That's where I took the following video. They projected fish onto the ceiling and there was a guy playing a gong.
Montag, 10. November 2008
Entzaubert Podcast 5
Look, no one's going to hire me as the ambassador to Germany, so I might as well tell it like it is.
Freitag, 7. November 2008
DIE FANTASTISCHEN VIER - MFG
Want some help learning your German alphabet? Listen to this song while reading the lyrics.
You will, no doubt, recognize only a few of the acronyms, because most of them are unique to Germany.
This song is amusing because the German love for bureaucracy is matched only by their love for two other things: sausage and acronyms.
Dienstag, 4. November 2008
Mozartpocalypse
By the time the cavemen tried to rape a woman at the U-Bahn station, I was no longer paying much attention.
You see, I thought I was going to see a musical performance of Mozart's Requiem at the Comic Opera on Saturday night. But thanks to a delightful artistic fad called Regietheater, "Director Theater", what I got for my money was actually a theatrical performance that used Mozart's Requiem as background noise.
The idea behind Director Theater seems to be that since everything old-fashioned is dead, irrelevant, insignificant, and useless, the only way to find artistic value in it is by cannibalizing it and using its parts to add an air of respectability to bad plays.
If you're interested in the phenomenon, for which the Comic Opera in Berlin seems to be a sort of ground zero, you can read about it here.
I've also included a video promo for the performance below. Keep your eyes out for the above-mentioned cavemen, the slumber party in the slaughterhouse, the plague comes to the nail salon, death as an old man in a helmet, cape, and Underoos, the angels performing surgery on a man in the chapel, and the mass suicide on Mt. Sinai.
You see, I thought I was going to see a musical performance of Mozart's Requiem at the Comic Opera on Saturday night. But thanks to a delightful artistic fad called Regietheater, "Director Theater", what I got for my money was actually a theatrical performance that used Mozart's Requiem as background noise.
The idea behind Director Theater seems to be that since everything old-fashioned is dead, irrelevant, insignificant, and useless, the only way to find artistic value in it is by cannibalizing it and using its parts to add an air of respectability to bad plays.
If you're interested in the phenomenon, for which the Comic Opera in Berlin seems to be a sort of ground zero, you can read about it here.
I've also included a video promo for the performance below. Keep your eyes out for the above-mentioned cavemen, the slumber party in the slaughterhouse, the plague comes to the nail salon, death as an old man in a helmet, cape, and Underoos, the angels performing surgery on a man in the chapel, and the mass suicide on Mt. Sinai.
Montag, 3. November 2008
New Podcast
I'm going to try to start posting podcasts every Monday.
Today, the gloves come off about German food, the French, and the metric system.
Something's a little weird about the sound quality this time; I hope it's not too distracting.
Today, the gloves come off about German food, the French, and the metric system.
Something's a little weird about the sound quality this time; I hope it's not too distracting.
Mayonnaise
As most of us learned from John Travolta in Pulp Fiction, in Amsterdam they put mayonnaise on french fries.
Evidently, in Berlin they do it too!
For the record, I'm a fan.
Evidently, in Berlin they do it too!
For the record, I'm a fan.
Freitag, 31. Oktober 2008
Crash!
Last night I went with my friend Hally to a meeting of the International club. It was in Kreuzberg, yet another one of the super-hip areas in Berlin, at a place called Crash!
There I made an ass of myself speaking bad German and failing to control my "dome sweat".
Speaking a foreign language is like playing a board game in which the rules are so complex that you can never make a *single* move without violating them and no one wins in the end.
Speaking a foreign language is like trying to run underwater.
Speaking a foreign language is like being the person who is so uncoordinated that he is always picked last for dodgeball and then being expected to do a gymnastics floor routine at the Olympics.
Speaking a foreign language is like going to the drug store for fifteen embarrassing cures and having the cashier do a price check on each one of them.
Speaking a foreign language is like failing a sobriety test.
Speaking a foreign language is like being retarded, except that you know you're retarded.
Speaking a foreign language is like being asked at the last minute to teach a class on quantum physics when all you know about physics is what you learned from watching Nova.
Speaking a foreign language is like when you're walking down the street and someone else is coming towards you and when you try to avoid them, you both move in the same direction so you're still on a collision course, then you both switch to the opposite side, then you both switch back, then finally you both almost bump into each other. It's like that process sustained for weeks.
Oh, and living in a foreign country is like it would be if you woke up one day and all the holidays you care about, including birthdays, didn't exist anymore. And instead of those holidays, there were holidays that deliberately excluded you.
Happy Halloween!
There I made an ass of myself speaking bad German and failing to control my "dome sweat".
Speaking a foreign language is like playing a board game in which the rules are so complex that you can never make a *single* move without violating them and no one wins in the end.
Speaking a foreign language is like trying to run underwater.
Speaking a foreign language is like being the person who is so uncoordinated that he is always picked last for dodgeball and then being expected to do a gymnastics floor routine at the Olympics.
Speaking a foreign language is like going to the drug store for fifteen embarrassing cures and having the cashier do a price check on each one of them.
Speaking a foreign language is like failing a sobriety test.
Speaking a foreign language is like being retarded, except that you know you're retarded.
Speaking a foreign language is like being asked at the last minute to teach a class on quantum physics when all you know about physics is what you learned from watching Nova.
Speaking a foreign language is like when you're walking down the street and someone else is coming towards you and when you try to avoid them, you both move in the same direction so you're still on a collision course, then you both switch to the opposite side, then you both switch back, then finally you both almost bump into each other. It's like that process sustained for weeks.
Oh, and living in a foreign country is like it would be if you woke up one day and all the holidays you care about, including birthdays, didn't exist anymore. And instead of those holidays, there were holidays that deliberately excluded you.
Happy Halloween!
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