I borrowed the title of this post from the television series - I miss you, Charlie!
This has nothing to do with Germany, per se. Just a celebration of geek hood...
Driving in the car with J, is often accompanied by unexpected conversational topics and questions (Mommy, what makes a planet a planet?). This evening, he said, "So, Mom, what is it with the number 3?" Instantly, of course, I think, 'it's the first odd prime'... But I do not say this aloud. I ask J, "What do you mean?" "You know, he says, people are always counting to 3... Like when you want us to hurry up and get ready for bed." "Actually, I count down from 5." "Oh, oh, right. I mean when people say 1,2,3 go. Why 3?" Hmmm, a little disappointed that he didn't realize I was counting down from 5. Says a bit about the amount of attention paid to dear old Mom... But he does seem to be on to something. We count to 3, to 5, to 10, but who counts to 6? Or 4? Or 7? And who picked these 'special numbers' to count to?
I have some numbers that I like. For a while here, mostly in December, the temperature outside hovered over 4 degrees Celsius. Every time I would look at the reading on the digital thermometer and it said '4 C', I would get a little silly... 4 degrees C is the point of maximum density of water at 1 atm. Water is as dense as it can be, I would think to myself. This is similar to the little giggle I get when I look at the clock and it is 3:14. Pi-oclock! Of course, the 2 digit decimal approximation is not really Pi-oclock, Pi-oclock must happen at some point between 3:14 and 3:15...
Next time someone asks you to pick a number between one and ten, do me a favor: pick e. (e is the base of the natural logarithm, a very special number).
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Friday, February 24, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
My First German Pottery Class
I've posted about German ceramic art and craft before, i.e. that art and craft being are very separate things here, and the hobbyist is left to take weekly class at the Volkshochschule (VHS - community college). Partly in response to M imploring me to please get out of the house and 'do something' (blogging, apparently, does not count as 'doing something'), I signed up for a pottery course at the VHS.
There is an advanced class, but of course, that one meets on Wednesdays, when Z and J have soccer practice, so I signed up for the Monday (beginner-to-wherever-you-are) class. I figured this probably corresponded nicely to the class I have regularly attended at Claymakers in Durham (btw Liz: shouldn't CM have a .org URL now?). The CM Tuesday class has a pretty regular group of attendees, and an extremely informal syllabus (essentially, we just make requests and our wonderful mentor, Deborah Harris, demonstrates). It's a great group, and there are usually a couple of newcomers to add to the fun.
So, off I was last night. I left at dusk, in the car with the primitive transmission, and I drove into downtown Kiel. Here is a map of Kiel:
Ok, that is an exaggeration, I admit. But the concept of a grid has clearly not occurred to anyone here. This is what it really looks like:
View Larger Map
I actually found my way there, almost accidentally. On the few intersections where signs can be found, they have such tiny print and are so filthy, I have no chance of reading them. I pray for a red light so I can focus, squint, and guess where I am... but I got lucky this time.
I found the school, went in the door, and there was a very nice woman there, offering directions. I think she asked if she could help me. I shrugged, as I wondered if she actually could. "Toepfer Wirkstatt?", I managed. (Actually, what I really said was "Topfeh Wirkstatt", as the American in me cannot produce umlaut sounds, and the New Yorker in me has trouble with terminal r's.) She pointed down the stairs, and lucky me, there it was. I went in and sat a desk (part of a collection arranged in a round). No one else was there yet - I had left early upon anticipation of getting lost, stalling all the way there, or both.
I scanned the room. About 10 kickwheels... ohhh wait... there are 3 electric wheels. I couldn't help but think, "I was here first. I want a Shimpo." The class filed in slowly. A whole bunch of newbies, like me, sitting at the tables and waiting. Then the Three Wise Women (TWW) arrived. These are the 'repeat offenders', like my alter ego at Claymakers. They came in and got to work immediately, glazing works presumably from the class last semester.
The teacher came in - a very young woman (very young = more than 15 years younger than me... gets older every year.) - named Julia. She seemed very sweet, only slightly timid. I understood about 15% of what she said, mostly things like 'clay cost 7 euro' and 'glazing is 15 euro' (for the entire kiln, so, pretty cheap). Then people started to get up and move. I had been quietly waiting for the part where we go around the table and introduce ourselves, and I get to publicly butcher German grammar, sentence structure and mispronounce everything. But it didn't happen. Now what? The teacher has no idea that I haven't understood a whole lot of what she said - and - more importantly - I WANT A SHIMPO (are there dibs? how do I claim mine?). "Entschuldigung.... Ich (Ik) komme aus Amerika, und mein Deutsch is schlect...", stares, some smiles, an awkward silence... "Ummm... Kann Ich dieses toepferscheibe... ummm.... wie heisst 'use' auf Deutsch?" Somehow, the teacher understood and said that we can use whichever we like (of course, with 13 people and 3 electric... anyways, I put my tools and towels by one of the Shimpos.)
Next, the class moved into the room where the clay is kept, but none of the beginners took a bag, so I asked one of the TWW. I had printed out a very handy English-German pottery dictionary, so I could ask for smooth (weich), white (weiss) clay (ton), without grog (ohne Chamotte). There was only 1 option, 25 % grog :( Looks like I will be exfoliating my fingertips for a while...
Another woman introduced herself, in English! She was married to a New Zealander for many years, and speaks absolutely fluent English! Lovely! And, her kids (age 11 and 13) are English-German bilingual. This is really the perfect situation. Most of the class and the instructor do not speak English (means I get to practice), but if I am completely at a loss, there is a life-vest available. Yay!
Finally, I sat down with the clay, and 'warmed up' with some cylindrical forms. I had thrown a few, when the instructor stopped by and apologized that she does not speak English very well. I (hopefully) made it clear that I had no expectation that she speak to me in English - we are, after all, in Germany! She asked if I 'just try' to throw (i.e. without explanation), and I gestured toward the pots I had already made... Ich kann nicht so gut sprechen, aber Ich kann toepfer machen! I also explained that my husband told me to 'get out', and so I ended up there, in the ceramic studio. This brought laughter from the TWW, one of whom lived in France for a while, but does not speak French.
This is going to be fun.
Wow, this is a long post. If you have made it this far, I will reward you by ending here!
There is an advanced class, but of course, that one meets on Wednesdays, when Z and J have soccer practice, so I signed up for the Monday (beginner-to-wherever-you-are) class. I figured this probably corresponded nicely to the class I have regularly attended at Claymakers in Durham (btw Liz: shouldn't CM have a .org URL now?). The CM Tuesday class has a pretty regular group of attendees, and an extremely informal syllabus (essentially, we just make requests and our wonderful mentor, Deborah Harris, demonstrates). It's a great group, and there are usually a couple of newcomers to add to the fun.
So, off I was last night. I left at dusk, in the car with the primitive transmission, and I drove into downtown Kiel. Here is a map of Kiel:
Ok, that is an exaggeration, I admit. But the concept of a grid has clearly not occurred to anyone here. This is what it really looks like:
View Larger Map
I actually found my way there, almost accidentally. On the few intersections where signs can be found, they have such tiny print and are so filthy, I have no chance of reading them. I pray for a red light so I can focus, squint, and guess where I am... but I got lucky this time.
I found the school, went in the door, and there was a very nice woman there, offering directions. I think she asked if she could help me. I shrugged, as I wondered if she actually could. "Toepfer Wirkstatt?", I managed. (Actually, what I really said was "Topfeh Wirkstatt", as the American in me cannot produce umlaut sounds, and the New Yorker in me has trouble with terminal r's.) She pointed down the stairs, and lucky me, there it was. I went in and sat a desk (part of a collection arranged in a round). No one else was there yet - I had left early upon anticipation of getting lost, stalling all the way there, or both.
I scanned the room. About 10 kickwheels... ohhh wait... there are 3 electric wheels. I couldn't help but think, "I was here first. I want a Shimpo." The class filed in slowly. A whole bunch of newbies, like me, sitting at the tables and waiting. Then the Three Wise Women (TWW) arrived. These are the 'repeat offenders', like my alter ego at Claymakers. They came in and got to work immediately, glazing works presumably from the class last semester.
The teacher came in - a very young woman (very young = more than 15 years younger than me... gets older every year.) - named Julia. She seemed very sweet, only slightly timid. I understood about 15% of what she said, mostly things like 'clay cost 7 euro' and 'glazing is 15 euro' (for the entire kiln, so, pretty cheap). Then people started to get up and move. I had been quietly waiting for the part where we go around the table and introduce ourselves, and I get to publicly butcher German grammar, sentence structure and mispronounce everything. But it didn't happen. Now what? The teacher has no idea that I haven't understood a whole lot of what she said - and - more importantly - I WANT A SHIMPO (are there dibs? how do I claim mine?). "Entschuldigung.... Ich (Ik) komme aus Amerika, und mein Deutsch is schlect...", stares, some smiles, an awkward silence... "Ummm... Kann Ich dieses toepferscheibe... ummm.... wie heisst 'use' auf Deutsch?" Somehow, the teacher understood and said that we can use whichever we like (of course, with 13 people and 3 electric... anyways, I put my tools and towels by one of the Shimpos.)
Next, the class moved into the room where the clay is kept, but none of the beginners took a bag, so I asked one of the TWW. I had printed out a very handy English-German pottery dictionary, so I could ask for smooth (weich), white (weiss) clay (ton), without grog (ohne Chamotte). There was only 1 option, 25 % grog :( Looks like I will be exfoliating my fingertips for a while...
Another woman introduced herself, in English! She was married to a New Zealander for many years, and speaks absolutely fluent English! Lovely! And, her kids (age 11 and 13) are English-German bilingual. This is really the perfect situation. Most of the class and the instructor do not speak English (means I get to practice), but if I am completely at a loss, there is a life-vest available. Yay!
Finally, I sat down with the clay, and 'warmed up' with some cylindrical forms. I had thrown a few, when the instructor stopped by and apologized that she does not speak English very well. I (hopefully) made it clear that I had no expectation that she speak to me in English - we are, after all, in Germany! She asked if I 'just try' to throw (i.e. without explanation), and I gestured toward the pots I had already made... Ich kann nicht so gut sprechen, aber Ich kann toepfer machen! I also explained that my husband told me to 'get out', and so I ended up there, in the ceramic studio. This brought laughter from the TWW, one of whom lived in France for a while, but does not speak French.
This is going to be fun.
Wow, this is a long post. If you have made it this far, I will reward you by ending here!
Bleakness Quantified
Remember my informal rain/sun stats? It's been pretty lousy here for the past couple of days, and today is particularly bad because we are have 60-80 km/h wind gusts along with the rain. I was looking at the weather forecast, trying to decide if I should send the kids to soccer practice tonight, or just declare the weather unfit for American children. I found an interesting site with nice little graphs that explain just how rotten the weather really is here. Have a look! (I've included some excerpts below).
Here is the median cloud cover for an average February in Kiel:
 |
| The median daily cloud cover (black line) with percentile bands (inner band from 40th to 60th percentile, outer band from 25th to 75th percentile). |
"The median cloud cover is 89% (mostly cloudy) and does not vary substantially over the course of the month.For comparison, here is Chapel Hill in February (Durham is not listed. Bad Website, bad, bad!)
On February 14, a representative day, the sky is clear or mostly clear 10% of the time, partly cloudy 11% of the time, and mostly cloudy or overcast 66% of the time."
The median cloud cover ranges from mostly clear (14%) to mostly clear (19%).
The median daily cloud cover (black line) with percentile bands (inner band from 40th to 60th percentile, outer band from 25th to 75th percentile).
"On February 14, a representative day, the sky is clear or mostly clear 58% of the time, partly cloudy 3% of the time, and mostly cloudy or overcast 28% of the time."
Okay, okay, so February is bad up north. So what, you say. It will get better! Here's June:
The median cloud cover is 70% (partly cloudy) and does not vary substantially over the course of the month.
 |
The median daily cloud cover (black line) with percentile bands (inner band from 40th to 60th percentile, outer band from 25th to 75th percentile)."On June 15, a representative day, the sky is clear or mostly clear 23% of the time,partly cloudy 23% of the time, and mostly cloudy or overcast 46% of the time."
I guess you could call that 'better', in that Kiel looks better in June than Kiel does in February. On the other hand, Chapel Hill looks better in February than Kiel looks in June. Don't even get me started on the precipitation stats! You can have a look for yourself, if this hasn't bored you to death already.
|
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Word Salat
Many of you may be wondering how my Deutsch is going - but you have been polite enough not to ask, so in return, I thought I might share a bit.
I seem to be incapable of producing the 'ch' sound. Every time I say 'Ich' or 'nicht' or any word that requires you to clear your throat simultaneously while speaking, one of the kids looks at me and says, "No Mom, chhhhhhhh." I reply "kkkkk". "No", they say, chhhhhhh". Unfortunately, this means there is no detectable difference between words such as 'kuchen' and 'kuken'. During the Christmas holidays, I accused my children of eating too many baby chickens (kuken). I meant 'kuchen'. They found it very funny and could honestly say that they hadn't had any kuken at all... They have a friend named 'Nick', which is truly unfortunate. (In German, there are two main negations. One is 'kein', the other is 'nicht'.)
People do seem to understand some of what I say. I come home from the grocery store with mostly the correct items. I have learned a few of the most necessary terms for dog owners, such as 'maedchen' (girl), 'junge' (boy), 'freundlich' (friendly), 'angst' (fear), 'rasse' (breed). Most of my chatting has centered around either groceries or dogs, so these vocabularies are slowly improving.
The worst trouble (other than actually making the correct sounds, which is nearly impossible, and I may just give up getting that right), is that I don't seem to be able to remember words very well. Acquiring new vocabulary seems to be incredibly difficult for me - and may be related to my increasing inability to remember English words. I also have always been notoriously incompetent when it comes to remembering names, which is pretty much the same thing. As usual, numbers come easily. Ask me J's teacher's phone number. The house number of his friend L, or his other friend E. What bus does Z take to school? I see a number and it stays. Seemingly forever, often long past usefulness. But words? I hear them, or see them, and an instant later, they are all fuzzy, kinda like those letters you have to type to prove you aren't a robot (does anyone else find those impossible to read???)
I find that some people are a whole lot easier to talk to than others. One of my favorite people to converse with is L's mom (friend of J). She listens carefully to what I say, and then repeats my sometimes broken German into complete sentences for me. Oh, how I wish everyone would do this. I am going to try to remember this when I speak to people who are learning English. I guess it is exactly what one does with small children... perhaps that is partly why kids learn language so easily?
The upside, is that I am a really good listener, auf Deutsch. I don't interrupt people, or steer the conversation onto some tangent, then another, then another (a friend in grad school used to call me 'Tangent Janice'...). I just smile and nod and look sympathetic or laugh...
Perhaps another skill I could try to transfer...
I seem to be incapable of producing the 'ch' sound. Every time I say 'Ich' or 'nicht' or any word that requires you to clear your throat simultaneously while speaking, one of the kids looks at me and says, "No Mom, chhhhhhhh." I reply "kkkkk". "No", they say, chhhhhhh". Unfortunately, this means there is no detectable difference between words such as 'kuchen' and 'kuken'. During the Christmas holidays, I accused my children of eating too many baby chickens (kuken). I meant 'kuchen'. They found it very funny and could honestly say that they hadn't had any kuken at all... They have a friend named 'Nick', which is truly unfortunate. (In German, there are two main negations. One is 'kein', the other is 'nicht'.)
People do seem to understand some of what I say. I come home from the grocery store with mostly the correct items. I have learned a few of the most necessary terms for dog owners, such as 'maedchen' (girl), 'junge' (boy), 'freundlich' (friendly), 'angst' (fear), 'rasse' (breed). Most of my chatting has centered around either groceries or dogs, so these vocabularies are slowly improving.
The worst trouble (other than actually making the correct sounds, which is nearly impossible, and I may just give up getting that right), is that I don't seem to be able to remember words very well. Acquiring new vocabulary seems to be incredibly difficult for me - and may be related to my increasing inability to remember English words. I also have always been notoriously incompetent when it comes to remembering names, which is pretty much the same thing. As usual, numbers come easily. Ask me J's teacher's phone number. The house number of his friend L, or his other friend E. What bus does Z take to school? I see a number and it stays. Seemingly forever, often long past usefulness. But words? I hear them, or see them, and an instant later, they are all fuzzy, kinda like those letters you have to type to prove you aren't a robot (does anyone else find those impossible to read???)
I find that some people are a whole lot easier to talk to than others. One of my favorite people to converse with is L's mom (friend of J). She listens carefully to what I say, and then repeats my sometimes broken German into complete sentences for me. Oh, how I wish everyone would do this. I am going to try to remember this when I speak to people who are learning English. I guess it is exactly what one does with small children... perhaps that is partly why kids learn language so easily?
The upside, is that I am a really good listener, auf Deutsch. I don't interrupt people, or steer the conversation onto some tangent, then another, then another (a friend in grad school used to call me 'Tangent Janice'...). I just smile and nod and look sympathetic or laugh...
Perhaps another skill I could try to transfer...
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Happy Not Valentine's Day
Being in Germany for Valentine's Day is AWESOME! It is not celebrated here! I have gone through the entire month of February without once hearing 'Every kiss begins with Kay'- though it does ring in my head whenever I remember it is Valentine's Day, so there is still some residual trauma.
At the grocery store, there are no pink, heart-shaped boxes full of disgusting 'creme' (read hydrogenated oil whipped with sugar, artificial flavor and coloring) filled brown-stuff-pretending-to be-chocolate. There are no pink teddy bears holding pink balloons with 'I heart you' on them. There are no little boxes filled with heart-shaped (edible?) chalk that say 'Be Mine'. No greeting cards asking 'Will You Be My Valentine?' (Not even ones to give to your dog...). The flower bouquets are still stocked in the same quantities as they were last month, and the prices are the same. There are no ads in the newspaper for overpriced restaurant dinners (Valentine's Day Specials = Lower quality food for twice the price! Yay!)
I do not miss any of these things. But I do miss all of you (unless you are one of those readers from Russia... not sure why my blog stats have so many hits from there...)! Have a Happy... February 14th...
At the grocery store, there are no pink, heart-shaped boxes full of disgusting 'creme' (read hydrogenated oil whipped with sugar, artificial flavor and coloring) filled brown-stuff-pretending-to be-chocolate. There are no pink teddy bears holding pink balloons with 'I heart you' on them. There are no little boxes filled with heart-shaped (edible?) chalk that say 'Be Mine'. No greeting cards asking 'Will You Be My Valentine?' (Not even ones to give to your dog...). The flower bouquets are still stocked in the same quantities as they were last month, and the prices are the same. There are no ads in the newspaper for overpriced restaurant dinners (Valentine's Day Specials = Lower quality food for twice the price! Yay!)
I do not miss any of these things. But I do miss all of you (unless you are one of those readers from Russia... not sure why my blog stats have so many hits from there...)! Have a Happy... February 14th...
Friday, February 10, 2012
Zacharias hat Geburtstag
Many of you know that Z's birthday was yesterday. This is his first official birthday celebration in Germany, although we did celebrate his 6-month birthday one summer.
As always, we celebrate more than once - the actual day of, and then the 'party day'. Z has opted for a family party, no school or soccer friends. We will have burritos and carrot cake on Sunday (I actually scored some cilantro from Citti!)
Yesterday, we did gifts, cupcakes and gummis (these gummi-worm type things. Yuck!) at school, and then dinner in the restaurant of Z's choice.
I think his favorite gift was a computer game called 'Minecraft'. It has graphics that make it look like it's from the 1980s, but Z and J love it. You basically create a world, gather raw materials and build. He also got about 6 or 7 more English books, plus another book from the Warrior series, auf Deutsch. If you have never seen this series, just think 'Lord of the Rings', except instead of Hobbits, the major protagonists are cats. Of course, there was more Lego... and M decided that Z needed a new RC helicopter. It works great, so now M needs a new RC helicopter.
Ok. Those were the gifts, now, we get to the fun part. We found a little restaurant called 'Waldschaenke'. It is a pity that pretty much anyone reading this is in the U.S., because I would order you all to go and see this place - and eat there - the food is awesome.
The theme is a 'forest tavern', you know, where hunters might stop in for a beer and some schnitzel... Here are a few pics from the decor:
Aren't they cute? Too bad they're dead. What kind of person sees two adorable little fox pups, decides to kill them, and then have them stuffed and posed so sweetly? Multiple Personality Disorder? Oh, so cute. Kill them. Oh, look at these adorable dead foxes, I think I'll have them stuffed...
Here's another. Is this a ferret?
Oh, yes, there is more. Every table comes with a little friend:
And hung high, for all to enjoy:
Just look at that smile. What a happy dead wild boar! This next 'display' is near the door, so you can warm up your appetite while waiting for you table. It's Z's favorite, and he took the photo.
Yep. That's a dead animal in the process of killing another dead animal. And isn't he cute?
I don't know what it is, but we love this place. I think the kitch makes us giggle so much, and then the food... It is a Polish-German menu. That basically means pork fat, cream, butter, lots of salt, butter, more fat, salt, meat and more meat. Vegetables are basically a hidden garnish (mine were hidden under hollandaise last night).
M had perogis filled with meat and swimming in sauce. I thought I was getting 'schnitzel', which I thought was a thin pork filet, breaded, fried and covered in sauce - but I got a plate with a small piece of pork tenderloin (wrapped in bacon, 'cause why not?), a small chicken breast and a piece of red meat of unknown origin all covered in brown gravy with mushrooms. I gave the red meat to M, who eats basically anything. On the side, was a large bowl of bratkartoffeln (potatoes, fried with smoked pork belly). It was all so delicious - thank god I had M there to help me! Otherwise, I might have eaten the whole plate and my arteries would have clogged instantaneously. I know this description sounds maybe a little snippy - but I mean it in the best possible way. It really was so yummy.
The kids had pizza, of course. It really isn't pizza - it is more like a German dish called pfannkucken, which is a bit like the stuff they call 'pizza' in Chicago (which everyone knows isn't really pizza either. By 'everyone' I mean New Yorkers).
Anyway, I think Z had a good time:
As always, we celebrate more than once - the actual day of, and then the 'party day'. Z has opted for a family party, no school or soccer friends. We will have burritos and carrot cake on Sunday (I actually scored some cilantro from Citti!)
Yesterday, we did gifts, cupcakes and gummis (these gummi-worm type things. Yuck!) at school, and then dinner in the restaurant of Z's choice.
I think his favorite gift was a computer game called 'Minecraft'. It has graphics that make it look like it's from the 1980s, but Z and J love it. You basically create a world, gather raw materials and build. He also got about 6 or 7 more English books, plus another book from the Warrior series, auf Deutsch. If you have never seen this series, just think 'Lord of the Rings', except instead of Hobbits, the major protagonists are cats. Of course, there was more Lego... and M decided that Z needed a new RC helicopter. It works great, so now M needs a new RC helicopter.
Ok. Those were the gifts, now, we get to the fun part. We found a little restaurant called 'Waldschaenke'. It is a pity that pretty much anyone reading this is in the U.S., because I would order you all to go and see this place - and eat there - the food is awesome.
The theme is a 'forest tavern', you know, where hunters might stop in for a beer and some schnitzel... Here are a few pics from the decor:
Aren't they cute? Too bad they're dead. What kind of person sees two adorable little fox pups, decides to kill them, and then have them stuffed and posed so sweetly? Multiple Personality Disorder? Oh, so cute. Kill them. Oh, look at these adorable dead foxes, I think I'll have them stuffed...
Here's another. Is this a ferret?
Oh, yes, there is more. Every table comes with a little friend:
And hung high, for all to enjoy:
Just look at that smile. What a happy dead wild boar! This next 'display' is near the door, so you can warm up your appetite while waiting for you table. It's Z's favorite, and he took the photo.
Yep. That's a dead animal in the process of killing another dead animal. And isn't he cute?
I don't know what it is, but we love this place. I think the kitch makes us giggle so much, and then the food... It is a Polish-German menu. That basically means pork fat, cream, butter, lots of salt, butter, more fat, salt, meat and more meat. Vegetables are basically a hidden garnish (mine were hidden under hollandaise last night).
M had perogis filled with meat and swimming in sauce. I thought I was getting 'schnitzel', which I thought was a thin pork filet, breaded, fried and covered in sauce - but I got a plate with a small piece of pork tenderloin (wrapped in bacon, 'cause why not?), a small chicken breast and a piece of red meat of unknown origin all covered in brown gravy with mushrooms. I gave the red meat to M, who eats basically anything. On the side, was a large bowl of bratkartoffeln (potatoes, fried with smoked pork belly). It was all so delicious - thank god I had M there to help me! Otherwise, I might have eaten the whole plate and my arteries would have clogged instantaneously. I know this description sounds maybe a little snippy - but I mean it in the best possible way. It really was so yummy.
The kids had pizza, of course. It really isn't pizza - it is more like a German dish called pfannkucken, which is a bit like the stuff they call 'pizza' in Chicago (which everyone knows isn't really pizza either. By 'everyone' I mean New Yorkers).
Anyway, I think Z had a good time:
Thursday, February 9, 2012
From Fahrschule to Skiing... and Unlikely Segue
Liz and I had a little conversation regarding stick shifts, that interestingly enough, brought up the topic of skiing. Liz compared learning to drive stick as an adult, to learning how to ski as an adult. Terrifying at first, but exhilarating once you've learned. The reason I find this so interesting, is that coincidentally, skiing has something to do with why I have to learn to drive stick at the moment.
Now, just to orient you, I have never liked skiing. I hate snow (though I do like sledding). Being outside, surrounded by ice cold water, regardless of its crystalline structure, is just plain uncomfortable. Add a little wind, and it gets miserable. Proper gear helps, but I can never get my face covered in such a way that I am comfortable - yet not blinded by the condensation on my glasses.
Even if you could take away the snow, there's the really unnatural feeling that occurs when you strap long sticks onto your feet, and then try to move. Then, there are the heights. I do not like being above sea level. There isn't enough oxygen and it is cold. Plus, you have that feeling of imminent death when looking down a mountain. It scares me, and not in a good way.
Now, suppose I were able to get to the top of a snowy mountain and look down without throwing up or passing out (or both). The next step would be to go down. I have studied physics. I understand potential energy. I understand acceleration, and conservation of momentum. That very last one is the most important. For most mountains are not perfectly smooth slopes. They come with trees, rocks and other skiers. Depending upon size, at least the first two obstacles do not move when hit by a human, even at breakneck speed (hmmm.... I think there is an obvious etymology associated with that adjective). Thus, conservation of momentum tends to mostly affect one's skull and the contents therein. If one is lucky enough, perhaps the skull is spared and only the spine needs to pay. Or just a major bone or two...
What does all this have to do with manual transmissions? Well, for a while, we traded 'our' car for M's dad's car, which has an automatic transmission. We could have kept the car longer (until the snow melted? I was hoping...), but M's mom has to have knee surgery. She had hoped to put it off until we left, but she has been in constant pain for weeks now :(, so she finally had to give in and do it now. (There is a long recovery - but we are all hoping that she can be better - and pain free, by spring). This all means that M's mom cannot drive a car with a clutch for quite some time.
Now, we are talking about knees, so you know we are getting back to skiing. This last part is definitely not funny, and if you see something you think is sarcastic, it is most certainly not meant that way. Ir's a pretty sad story - but it is also family history, so I wanted to write it down.
I knew for a long time that M's mom had knee trouble. She had had surgery just around the time that M and I met, and she has had pain on and off as long as I have known her. I also knew that the knee troubles started when she was quite young, because she once told us that she had wanted 5 children, but after two pregnancies, the doctors told her that her knee would not hold up for a third. But, I never knew how the original injury occurred.
Well, you guessed it - skiing. In college, she went on a ski trip to Freiburg. She fell, and managed to break her leg, very, very badly. This was in the mid-1960s, so orthopedic medicine was not terribly advanced. She was placed in a hospital bed, in a room with a bunch of other skiers, all with legs wrapped in bandages and plaster and held up with a pulley (like the typical hospital scenes in movies - remember Sigourney Weaver in 'Working Girl'?). After several weeks, they discovered it hadn't been set quite right, so they adjusted and set her up again. I asked her if they at least gave her lots of pain meds, but she didn't remember. I told her I hoped they gave her a bunch of morphine...
Months later, after being released from the hospital, and being told to 'ride a bike' to get the seriously atrophied leg back in shape (so much for physical therapy in the 1960s!), she went to another doctor because she was in constant pain. He looked at her knee and said "No, that's not right." The leg had been set wrong, and as a result, her knee was turned in. The 'fix' was to break the leg and reset. Very understandably, she declined the procedure, having just spent half a year in bed with an intolerably itchy cast and who knows how much pain.
The surgery in the late 1990s set the leg properly, but years of strain on the knee left the joint in trouble. So finally, this month, she will get the knee replaced, and with any luck, this spring, she will have 50 years (!!) of physical repercussions from one ski trip reversed for good. Some other repercussions, such as the 3 siblings M and his sister never had, well, we just have to imagine what might have been.
Now, just to orient you, I have never liked skiing. I hate snow (though I do like sledding). Being outside, surrounded by ice cold water, regardless of its crystalline structure, is just plain uncomfortable. Add a little wind, and it gets miserable. Proper gear helps, but I can never get my face covered in such a way that I am comfortable - yet not blinded by the condensation on my glasses.
Even if you could take away the snow, there's the really unnatural feeling that occurs when you strap long sticks onto your feet, and then try to move. Then, there are the heights. I do not like being above sea level. There isn't enough oxygen and it is cold. Plus, you have that feeling of imminent death when looking down a mountain. It scares me, and not in a good way.
Now, suppose I were able to get to the top of a snowy mountain and look down without throwing up or passing out (or both). The next step would be to go down. I have studied physics. I understand potential energy. I understand acceleration, and conservation of momentum. That very last one is the most important. For most mountains are not perfectly smooth slopes. They come with trees, rocks and other skiers. Depending upon size, at least the first two obstacles do not move when hit by a human, even at breakneck speed (hmmm.... I think there is an obvious etymology associated with that adjective). Thus, conservation of momentum tends to mostly affect one's skull and the contents therein. If one is lucky enough, perhaps the skull is spared and only the spine needs to pay. Or just a major bone or two...
What does all this have to do with manual transmissions? Well, for a while, we traded 'our' car for M's dad's car, which has an automatic transmission. We could have kept the car longer (until the snow melted? I was hoping...), but M's mom has to have knee surgery. She had hoped to put it off until we left, but she has been in constant pain for weeks now :(, so she finally had to give in and do it now. (There is a long recovery - but we are all hoping that she can be better - and pain free, by spring). This all means that M's mom cannot drive a car with a clutch for quite some time.
Now, we are talking about knees, so you know we are getting back to skiing. This last part is definitely not funny, and if you see something you think is sarcastic, it is most certainly not meant that way. Ir's a pretty sad story - but it is also family history, so I wanted to write it down.
I knew for a long time that M's mom had knee trouble. She had had surgery just around the time that M and I met, and she has had pain on and off as long as I have known her. I also knew that the knee troubles started when she was quite young, because she once told us that she had wanted 5 children, but after two pregnancies, the doctors told her that her knee would not hold up for a third. But, I never knew how the original injury occurred.
Well, you guessed it - skiing. In college, she went on a ski trip to Freiburg. She fell, and managed to break her leg, very, very badly. This was in the mid-1960s, so orthopedic medicine was not terribly advanced. She was placed in a hospital bed, in a room with a bunch of other skiers, all with legs wrapped in bandages and plaster and held up with a pulley (like the typical hospital scenes in movies - remember Sigourney Weaver in 'Working Girl'?). After several weeks, they discovered it hadn't been set quite right, so they adjusted and set her up again. I asked her if they at least gave her lots of pain meds, but she didn't remember. I told her I hoped they gave her a bunch of morphine...
Months later, after being released from the hospital, and being told to 'ride a bike' to get the seriously atrophied leg back in shape (so much for physical therapy in the 1960s!), she went to another doctor because she was in constant pain. He looked at her knee and said "No, that's not right." The leg had been set wrong, and as a result, her knee was turned in. The 'fix' was to break the leg and reset. Very understandably, she declined the procedure, having just spent half a year in bed with an intolerably itchy cast and who knows how much pain.
The surgery in the late 1990s set the leg properly, but years of strain on the knee left the joint in trouble. So finally, this month, she will get the knee replaced, and with any luck, this spring, she will have 50 years (!!) of physical repercussions from one ski trip reversed for good. Some other repercussions, such as the 3 siblings M and his sister never had, well, we just have to imagine what might have been.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Fahrschule
I am learning to drive again. Yes, I learned to drive more than 28 years ago... but that was on a modern car, you know, the kind with an automatic transmission.
I have to tell you, I find this whole 'manually shifting gears' thing to be nonsense. Really, the wipers on the car can sense how fast to wipe the windshield, based on how much precipitation has fallen - but the motor needs to be told when to switch gears?
Once you have put the car in gear, the motor does not reflect the information back in anyway. Am I in 3rd gear or 5th? It would be nice to know. Do you think the car could tell me, maybe somewhere on the space age-looking digital display? Nope. It's a secret. I can look at the display, and see that the current song on the radio is by Cheryl Crowe and the title is "Like the Way I Do" (I refer you back to the Time Machine...). I can see the date, time and the current external temperature, how much gas we have, how far we have gone.... but nothing as critical as WHAT GEAR AM I IN? At least the manufactures could leave off that little leather cover on the stick. Maybe then I could see where the stick is in relation to the gears?
Truly ironic, that automatics are always labeled to tell you exactly whether you are in drive, neutral, reverse, park - even though you only rarely need to change from one to the other - and when you do, the car isn't moving! (Nor is there a very impatient and rude German driver behind you, about to drive directly into your back seat because you have - horrors of all horrors - slowed down.)
I did reach a milestone today - I drove - by myself to the grocery store, and, more importantly, I drove Z home from soccer practice. I only stalled when I was parking in our driveway! Yay!
I have to tell you, I find this whole 'manually shifting gears' thing to be nonsense. Really, the wipers on the car can sense how fast to wipe the windshield, based on how much precipitation has fallen - but the motor needs to be told when to switch gears?
Once you have put the car in gear, the motor does not reflect the information back in anyway. Am I in 3rd gear or 5th? It would be nice to know. Do you think the car could tell me, maybe somewhere on the space age-looking digital display? Nope. It's a secret. I can look at the display, and see that the current song on the radio is by Cheryl Crowe and the title is "Like the Way I Do" (I refer you back to the Time Machine...). I can see the date, time and the current external temperature, how much gas we have, how far we have gone.... but nothing as critical as WHAT GEAR AM I IN? At least the manufactures could leave off that little leather cover on the stick. Maybe then I could see where the stick is in relation to the gears?
Truly ironic, that automatics are always labeled to tell you exactly whether you are in drive, neutral, reverse, park - even though you only rarely need to change from one to the other - and when you do, the car isn't moving! (Nor is there a very impatient and rude German driver behind you, about to drive directly into your back seat because you have - horrors of all horrors - slowed down.)
I did reach a milestone today - I drove - by myself to the grocery store, and, more importantly, I drove Z home from soccer practice. I only stalled when I was parking in our driveway! Yay!
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Die sechste Stunde faellt aus.
"The sixth hour fell out", Z explained to me over his cell phone. "I don't know when the bus comes, can you come and get me?" "What the heck are you talking about?", I asked. "The sixth hour fell out. I have to come home now! School is ending early." "Oh... now I get it." Of course, this was exactly as I was headed out the door to get J, so I had to pass him off to M, secretly jealous that M could take the car and I had to put on two pairs of pants, two sweaters, cuff warmers, ear covers, hat, gloves, scarf and boots to walk the 1.5 km to J's school.
So, 'faellt aus' or 'ausfallen' means 'fall out', when literally translated into English, though it is a German idiom for 'cancelled'. We giggled quite a bit over it, but in truth, classes falling out is a big problem here in Schlesswig-Holstein. So far, it is not clear to us whether the cancellations are increasing, or simply that parents are getting annoyed by it and just starting to complain.
We have noticed it too - Z has had 3 classes cancelled since the new term started last Tuesday. Two cancellations were due to teacher illness, and one was due to teacher unpreparedness: The art teacher didn't know that she was supposed to teach them that day (for a two-hour period), so they watched "Vorstadt Krokodile 2" in its entirety.
The day that Z phoned, I was very happy about 2 things: 1) I was warned by another parent who spent a year in Heidelberg that the schools will let out early without any warning and without contacting parents and 2) Z has a cell phone. I really don't know what he would have done without it. The bus only stops at the school once per hour before the official end of the day, and he had missed it by 5 minutes. Did I mention that there is snow everywhere here, and the temperature is well-below freezing? (If you are wondering what the other kids did, most of them bike to school, so they just leave and probably they have a key to get into the house. Or perhaps some also called their parents using cell phones. What is clear is that the school feels no responsibility to make sure the kids get home!)
Wondering if, for 5 euro, we might just get a cell for J too - just in case anything falls out of the Grundschule.
So, 'faellt aus' or 'ausfallen' means 'fall out', when literally translated into English, though it is a German idiom for 'cancelled'. We giggled quite a bit over it, but in truth, classes falling out is a big problem here in Schlesswig-Holstein. So far, it is not clear to us whether the cancellations are increasing, or simply that parents are getting annoyed by it and just starting to complain.
We have noticed it too - Z has had 3 classes cancelled since the new term started last Tuesday. Two cancellations were due to teacher illness, and one was due to teacher unpreparedness: The art teacher didn't know that she was supposed to teach them that day (for a two-hour period), so they watched "Vorstadt Krokodile 2" in its entirety.
The day that Z phoned, I was very happy about 2 things: 1) I was warned by another parent who spent a year in Heidelberg that the schools will let out early without any warning and without contacting parents and 2) Z has a cell phone. I really don't know what he would have done without it. The bus only stops at the school once per hour before the official end of the day, and he had missed it by 5 minutes. Did I mention that there is snow everywhere here, and the temperature is well-below freezing? (If you are wondering what the other kids did, most of them bike to school, so they just leave and probably they have a key to get into the house. Or perhaps some also called their parents using cell phones. What is clear is that the school feels no responsibility to make sure the kids get home!)
Wondering if, for 5 euro, we might just get a cell for J too - just in case anything falls out of the Grundschule.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Pictures of the Snow
Tried to take some photos today. Unfortunately, the camera froze after being outside for 10 minutes, so we only have some photos of chestnut. We'll work on getting some of the kids - maybe tomorrow?
Below is Chestnut and one of her favorite Bovines. She doesn't seem to mind that a lot of them have horns.
Can you see the icicles hanging from her mouth?
This is the Au (small creek) that runs around our little subdivision.... frozen.
Below is Chestnut and one of her favorite Bovines. She doesn't seem to mind that a lot of them have horns.
Here she is just chillin' .... literally....
Playing with another happy dog
Can you see the icicles hanging from her mouth?
This is the Au (small creek) that runs around our little subdivision.... frozen.
Careful What You Wish For
So many sunny days lately, I am losing count.
Trouble is: today's 'high' temperature is predicted to be -5 C (a balmy 23 F). It is currently -8 C (17 F), and I am waiting for the mercury to rise before I wander outside for a five-minute walk. Any more than that gets painful. Tonight's low is predicted to be -16 C (3 F).
The kids have been sledding in this godawful weather, and for some reason, they refuse to dress appropriately. Yesterday, when they returned home freezing cold and covered in snow, we stripped them down so we could thaw them out in a warm bath. We discovered that Z was wearing only one pair of pants, and J was wearing only one pair of sweat pants - and going commando to boot. M and I explained the undesirability of getting frostbite, particularly on some delicate parts of the anatomy. J has promised to wear the long underwear we purchased for him, and Z will add a second pair of pants next time.
Chestnut thinks the weather is just dandy, and has been desperately digging in the frozen mole hills, hoping for a tasty treat. It's really funny to watch her dig and dig and dig, and then look up at us with a face completely covered in snow. Speaking of frozen treats, one advantage to this weather: the copious dog turds along the sidewalks and paths freeze almost instantly. The horse dung does as well, so when Chestnut finds a pile of this doggy perfume and rolls around in it, the aroma transfer is minimal.
The sledding is pretty awesome. There is a hill just down the block that has the perfect slope. I think we need to buy a couple more sleds, though. I get really impatient waiting for my turn...
Trouble is: today's 'high' temperature is predicted to be -5 C (a balmy 23 F). It is currently -8 C (17 F), and I am waiting for the mercury to rise before I wander outside for a five-minute walk. Any more than that gets painful. Tonight's low is predicted to be -16 C (3 F).
The kids have been sledding in this godawful weather, and for some reason, they refuse to dress appropriately. Yesterday, when they returned home freezing cold and covered in snow, we stripped them down so we could thaw them out in a warm bath. We discovered that Z was wearing only one pair of pants, and J was wearing only one pair of sweat pants - and going commando to boot. M and I explained the undesirability of getting frostbite, particularly on some delicate parts of the anatomy. J has promised to wear the long underwear we purchased for him, and Z will add a second pair of pants next time.
Chestnut thinks the weather is just dandy, and has been desperately digging in the frozen mole hills, hoping for a tasty treat. It's really funny to watch her dig and dig and dig, and then look up at us with a face completely covered in snow. Speaking of frozen treats, one advantage to this weather: the copious dog turds along the sidewalks and paths freeze almost instantly. The horse dung does as well, so when Chestnut finds a pile of this doggy perfume and rolls around in it, the aroma transfer is minimal.
The sledding is pretty awesome. There is a hill just down the block that has the perfect slope. I think we need to buy a couple more sleds, though. I get really impatient waiting for my turn...
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