When the wheels fell off the proverbial bus...

Like many bloggers it seems (though I REALLY hesitate to put myself in that group), the wheels sort of fell off my blog bus at some point last year.  As we started to settle into life and school in Germany in 2012, sitting at the computer for more than a minute here or there became more challenging.  Because May is a month full of 4-day weekends/school holidays, I was sure that was when it happened, though in review, I found it was even earlier.  In February, we had two long weekends, one for the big German celebration of Carnival and another one a bit later in the month.  We decided to take a train over to Berlin (about 5 hours) for the latter long weekend.  It might have been one of the coldest weekend we have ever experienced.  Let me pick up there...

Berlin is such a cool city with a complicated history.   We walked about, at times in flurrying snow and blustery wind, checking out the Brandenburg Gate, Checkpoint Charlie, remaining parts of the wall, the Jewish memorial, and the DDR museum, where by the way, we found the exact countertops found in our current flat, in the sample apartment from East Germany!  It was such an informative weekend from a historical standpoint.

The Checkpoint Charlie museum has an overwhelming amount of information about the wall, the famous checkpoint, and four "quadrants" of the city of Berlin post WWII, but the stories of how people
                   tried to get to the other side of the wall were at times, unbelievable and plentiful.

The Berlin Holocaust Memorial was incredibly thought provoking...the snow covered stones, cold and
                                      gray, seemed to touch those around, even in their stillness.

                                             Home/palace of the Chancellor of Germany:

The DDR museum showcases what it was like to live in Communist controlled East Germany, on the
                   "other side" of the Berlin wall.  There was only one kind of car, a Trabant...

                                Unique to the Berlin area...green crosswalk "men"...love them!

                          We'd love to visit this amazing city again...perhaps when it is a bit warmer!

German life on a bike

May 8, 2012
Feeling inspired, I decided to ride my bike to German class today so I thought I should dress (German) appropriately. Pegged my khakis on the chain/gear side and donned my springy yellow Chuck T's...within the first 2 miles of me peddling my heart out, I was passed by a man dressed in a full business suit (!!!) with his (apparent) sandwich packed in a bright blue Tupperware hinged on his rear bike rack. That was all that he had. I guess that was his springy accessory. I thought that was going to be one of the silliest things I would see today until about 5 minutes later, on the same bike ride, I was stopped at a traffic light opposite of an 80-something year old woman who had on the 3D glasses that she evidently got when she went to see "The Avengers" this past weekend. Seriously, I was cracking up audibly at that one (but not for her to see or hear). What else might I see today???

In July 2012, we had the opportunity to go to the Tour de France.  We went to the time trials on day one then were along the race course (in several locations) to watch the race itself.  It was an amazing experience.  The pack is lead by several cars, support vehicles, race coordinators, etc.  There are parade float-like vehicles that fly by throwing things to the spectators along the route.  Finally the leader pack comes into sight.  It was exhilarating!  When the peleton went by, the amount of wind they create is amazing.  I don't know why I never thought about that.  Chasing the race trying to beat them to certain points so we could keep seeing them was so much fun.  Hope to go to it every year that we are over here...perhaps Alps d'Huez next year! 

Sept. 4th, 2012
Wendy Full of Grace strikes again. In my continued attempts to embrace the German/European way of life, I decided to get a "city" bike. It allows one to ride in skirts, little heels, etc and typically has a basket or two, lights and the all-important bell. Until now, I have been riding my mountain bike with my messenger bag slung across me. Now I can sit up tall (like Mary Poppins) on the big, cushy seat in my skirt and cute wedge heels, and carry my book bag in my rear basket! The one thing I did not know about my new bike is that in addition to the hand breaks, there are also foot breaks (btw, when since 1940, have there been foot breaks on adult bikes?). Just a word of caution: when you are coasting up to an intersection on such a bike with foot/pedal breaks, one should NOT casually backpedal. This immediately brings the bike to a stop and the rider off the big, cushy seat on to her cute wedge heels, and not very gracefully! Just sayin'...

How I became Canadian ("Kanadisch" in German)

So I started a German intensive language course a little while back.  It began like this:  On the first day, I showed up a little bit early to figure out in which room the course would be and take care of any first day paperwork that there might be, etc.  I checked the flat screen computer monitor on the wall of the main hall and saw that my class was meeting in room 409.  I proceeded to the classroom and took a seat with my back to the windows.  There were a few other people sprinkled throughout the room already and several more entered and choose seats until all 10 seats were full.  A smiling woman who appeared to be the instructor came in, set her things down on the front table near the board and kindly, but loudly, said "My nama ist Vera.  Ick high-sah Vera" and wrote the following on the board: Mein name ist Vera.  Ich heiße Vera.  She then took a small stack of light blue copy paper and a marker and headed over to a woman on the far side from where I was seated.  (The tables are adjoined together in the shape of a large U that occupies almost all of the space in the room.)  Vera bent over in front of the woman like she was speaking to a shy child, placed a hand on her own chest, and said very slowly "Ick high-sah Vera.  Vee highst do?"  The seated woman raised both of her eyebrows and looked dumbfounded so Vera then gestured with her hand and had the woman repeat after her "Ick high-sah da da da" to which the woman added "Fernanda."  Vera wrote this on one of the sheets of paper folded in half and created a tent-like name card for her, really for the rest of us to see. Vera then kindly and patiently repeated this with Jing, Hanna, Mei Fong, Shengul, Maria, Rosa, and Ana.  Then she got to the 30-something looking guy on my left.  She said the exact same thing to him that she had said to everyone else (and thus yielding name cards for each).  The guy next to me replies to Vera, in an American accent with total disgust in his voice, "I don't understand nothing you are saying to me."  She gets a smile on her face and looks a little surprised and says "Oh!".  She then repeats what she has asked him and still doesn't get a name from him so she pleasantly points to each of the people she has already met and slowly, patiently reads each name off of the tent cards.  He continues to look completely confused and then turns to me and asks "Am I in the right class?  Is this the first day of the Basic Course?"  Both Vera and I laughed and answered in the affirmative but I added in English, "She is asking what your name is."  He flatly states "Will" and waves his dismissively waves both hands.  She provides him a name tent card with "Will" on it and moves on, finishing around the U.  She tries not to speak anything but German to us and proceeds to teach us greetings, conjugation, and the conjugation of the verb "heißen" (to be called).  The second day of class she reviews things like "Ich heiße Wendy" and introduces the verb "kommen" which means to come.  She explains in German that she comes from Deutschland and goes around the U again, asking everyone "Vo kommst do?" to which everyone replies with the country they are from.   When she gets to Will, he is completely befuddled again, so I eventually whisper "I think she is asking where you come from."  To this he replies to Vera "Chicago."  She smiles, laughs a small laugh, and says "Nine, Will.  Chicago ist ine  Schtat (phonetic for "city").  Vas its ear-ah LAND?"  By the way, the other answers so far have been Brazil, China, Iraq, China, Turkey, Guatemala,  and Spain...Will looks stunned again.  She asked the question a few times and finally he responds "America???"  She nods yes and smiles and explains how to say it in German. Then it is my turn.  In an attempt to be sensitive to any possible anti-American sentiment of the Middle Easterners that I don't yet know and considering that I really do not want to be AT ALL associated with this knuckle head next to me from the country of Chicago, I answer her question with "Canada" thinking "who will know the difference in here?"  (The only other countries represented that were not listed above were Moldavia and Russia.)  The questions continue around the room, I am relieved that my turn is over and that I am not on anyone's radar at this point.  Day three:  Just when I think I am in the clear and no one is going to remember anything about me, we have to go to the board and write the country we hail from, the capital and the language(s) spoken there.  As she calls on people, this time in a random order, I am slightly panicked trying to remember if the capital of Canada is Montreal or Toronto.  I am fairly sure the capital is not in the province of Quebec but still to be sure that it is in fact Toronto, I Google it on my iPhone, under the table.  Yup, there you have it: Ottawa.  Duh.  Why does this Canadian not know the capital of her own country???  I can't wait for this lie to be over...

By the start of the second week, I have already admitted to the sweet girl from Guatemala that I am not from Canada (since she inquired about it), and am glad we have moved on to things in the grocery store.  I spend the week stressing about masculine, feminine and neuter articles of every noun so it catches me completely off guard when at the end of the week, our assignment is to bring in a recipe-preferably FROM OUR HOMELAND-translated in German.  All I can think is "does tapping a tree for maple syrup count?  I don't know of any 'Canadian dishes. '"  I google the topic, don't find too many options or anything I have heard of for that matter, so I email my friend who is married to a Canadian.  Evidently after lots of laughter at my predicament, she emails me back a few options, one of which I had also seen on Google.  That is the one I went with...Nanimo bars, or something like that.  I am not enjoying being Canadian...

In the end, all I can say is that my husband and kids thought the entire thing was hysterical and wondered when I would fess up.  I wound up telling my new friend from Maldova the truth about a week after she innocently asked me if we all learn French in school, as in, is it required.  I finally told Vera on the last day of school. This was a great example to my kids at least about lies just growing bigger and bigger.  Will still doesn't know...

Karnival 2012

German Karnival/Fasching is something that is not easily explained.  It is referred to as the "5th season" (as in winter, spring, etc) and technically lasts from 11/11 to the day before Ash Wednesday. The high days of it seem to be the kick-off, 11/11, and the last 5 or 6 days of the period.  This was how I tried to describe it once, which a few native German friends thought was fairly close:   


It is sort of like going in costume to the largest Irish pub ever and not knowing the words to ANY of the drinking songs that, evidently, EVERYONE else knows. That, combined with being at a huge concert of your favorite band, and "your" team being in the National Championships surrounded by all of its fans-and you there cheering while having candy and flowers thrown at you.


Now, imagine 14,000 people filling the Fedex Forum, Mellon Center, or your local NBA area five nights in a row (different people each night) watching "acts" [bands of old guys singing the aforementioned songs, seemingly retired, sparkly, cruise-ship singers also singing songs about how great whatever city it is is, cheerleaders in short, German brauhaus dresses doing junior high school cheerleading stunts and pyramids, with a few comedians mixed in (speaking German, of course!)], while the audience sings and celebrates, in costume. 

The next night you might go to a ball with EVERYONE in great costumes (not like the sort-of, half committed costumes you would likely see on half the people in the US) and sing the same songs after watching the host "troop" (ours was the Roten Funken, the oldest in Cologne with approximately 450 members dressed in wool uniforms that resemble those of Prussian soldiers in formal attire) perform their traditional "routine" that sort of pokes fun of the poor guarding techniques used by the soliders who were supposed to be guarding the wall around/city when it was taken.  The next day (after getting a few hours sleep) you can head out to the local parades. 

Sort of a home-town version of the Rosenmontag (Rose Monday) parades, where flowers are thrown to the ladies and candy is thrown by the ton to children and adults alike along the parade route.  BTW, the parade has the same songs that you still don't know the words to, but by now you have gathered that they are all about how great the city is.  Rosenmontag (falls on the Monday prior to Ash Wednesday) is the crowning event of Karnival and boasts a parade in Cologne much like a Marti Gras/Rose Bowl/Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade combined. Of course, you are now in day 5 or 6 of wearing costumes so you may have changed it up a bit.  In our case, Josh was the only one well attired for this particular parade as he was sporting a silver hard hat (think The Village People) and was fairly protected from the barrage of flying candy bars-I mean full sized bars, not minis!  

We left with 3 or 4 shopping bags of candy and we scooted out at about the half-way point!  It is insane!  I should note, that this is a description of Karnival in Cologne-supposedly the largest celebration in Germany-as we experienced it, and that different cities have different songs, slightly different traditions, and slightly different "goodies" for adults on Rosenmontag, but evidently loads of candy is a constant if they are celebrating.  In the North of Germany, Karnival is a season to go sort of all-out prior to lent, where as in the South of Germany, it (is called Fasching) is to ward off the winter spirits and encourage the arrival of spring.  Our sweet friend Rolf, an Officer of the Roten Funken (who should, ahem, perhaps try to make it to one of the lightsabre rehearsals next year), gave us an incredible insiders experience of Karnival for which we are very grateful and perhaps even still a bit sleep deprived. 

Either way you cut it, it is hard not to get caught up in Karnival if you are in an area that is celebrating!  It is, without exaggeration, the most festive thing I have ever participated in.  The German people are very committed and can PARTY! Kolle Alaaf! Carmellan!!!!  

Why I am sure Fedex is going to take Germany!

So I was a little one the fence about adding this story/experience to our blog, but since it has happened again AND I got a more information about it today, I thought I'd share. 


       The week before Christmas, as Josh was headed out on a weeklong trip, he came across two postcards with our name on them, in a basket, in our lobby, typically used for the local newspaper and store flyers.  I never really check this basket since I can't read anything in there and never imagined a delivery service would leave a notice for us in such a public container. The postcards had a logo from a company called GLS and had package ID numbers and tracking #'s.  Being a Fedex family, we felt fairly sure that they were delivery notices for two packages but just to be sure, I took them to one of my new German friends and asked her my typically question while presenting them, "Was is das?" (sounds like "Vas ist das?" asked by Sergeant Schultz from Hogan's Heros).  She explained that they were packages that GLS tried to deliver when we weren't home so they were left elsewhere for us to pick up.  She said it looked like one was at a bike shop and the other at a cafe.  You can imagine my face, sort of like, "come again???"  I think what I actually said, with my mouth on the floor, was "what???"  I asked if they just took them to the next place the drivers were headed and she said basically, yes.  She wasn't familiar with either business and suggested that I google them or put them in my GPS.  I assumed they were right around the corner or down the street from our home so I just put them in the GPS and thought I'd walk to get them.  Wrong.  One was about 6 miles away, near the airport, and the other about 2 miles away, but in the opposite direction, of course.  I decided that since I was a bit crunched for time, I would just drive to get them the next day.  Off I went the next day to retrieve the packages.  First stop, bike shop...Keeping in mind that just about everyone has or needs a bicycle in Germany, I arrived at the bike shop, this, the Wednesday before Christmas.  I arrived around 11am to find the shop closed with a note printed from a computer hanging on the door.  Though I couldn't read the entire thing, I did understand enough of it to get that they were closed on Wednesdays in December to prepare for the holidays.  Seriously? What kind of joke is this??? Shaking my head, I got back in the car, punched the cafe address in my GPS and hoped they weren't closed for who knows what too.  I found a parking space on the street just prior to the address of the cafe so I parked there and walked along about 6 shops to the "cafe" that I would describe to be more like a very small convenience store.  They had the standard, old, cigarette pack dispenser over head of the counter and a selection of about 20 candy bars, etc in front of the counter.  In the back of the store, was a counter where 4 Middle Eastern looking men were smoking hookas (colorful vase-like things with hoses that stick out and one smokes through them).  The oldest of the men came up behind the counter and asked in German if he could help me.  I asked in German if he spoke English. Neine. I tried to explain in mostly German that I got this postcard (holding it out to him) and asked if he had a package for me.  He took it, muttering something about the 16th (the day it was left for us) and started searching like it might have been sitting around there for years...He looked under the counter, behind it, in the back store room of the shop just past his smoking pals, and finally walked out of the store saying "Eine moment" as he went.  He then lifted up his garage door, disappeared into the garage, and came out a moment later with a package for me.  He asked for my passport, which of course I failed to bring, but finally accepted my German driver's license and European Union ID card.  I signed a short form, put the package in my trunk, and went home to prepare for the 6 overnight guests I had arriving that evening.  On that Friday, feeling a bit of pressure to pick up all packages prior to Christmas which was on Sunday, I left my visiting family and headed back out to the bike shop.  Many Europeans don't own cars so how they do all of this would be far beyond my patience.  It was open this time, so I walked in and greeted the shop keeper in German, asking him if he spoke English as well.  Neine.  OK, one more mostly German explanation of the postcard and inquiry about a package.  He too muttered something about the date (the 15th) and went into the back of his shop.  He came out, handed me back the postcard and said what I thought was "No, I don't have a package for you."  At this point I am wondering where the Candid Cameras are hiding. I asked him if the address on the card was in fact the bike shop that I was standing in and he confirmed that.  I must have looked pitiful because after he tried to explain something to me in rapid-fire German, he went over to his computer and typed in what I assume was the tracking number on the postcard.  He then turned to me and said something else-I have no idea what, but it didn't sound at all like "Oh, yes, I DO have a package for you in my secret hiding spot!"  I told him in German that I was sorry that I didn't understand and asked if he had Google translate.  He walked nodded yes, went to Google and typed in whatever he was trying to say.  He turned the screen slightly towards me and pointed to the English translation: "The recipient has the package."  I nodded my head to the contrary and said "Ich habe dis (not a german word by the way) postkart-Das ist diene addresse-Sie haben eine package."  I was quite proud of myself.  He was not impressed.  He picked up his phone, called someone at GLS and spoke to them.  All of the sudden his English got a little better.  He took the phone from his ear, placed it against his chest, and said "Your mann (German for husband) has the package."  I wasn't about to explain that my "mann" was in Budapest or Basel so I just explained in broken German that my "mann" gave me the card to come and get the package so he did NOT have it.  He then said "yes, your mann got package at cafe".  WHAT????!!!  I held up one finger, said "eine moment" and headed out to the trunk where the package from the "cafe" still was.  I brought it in and said "This is a different number," to which he replied in almost perfect English "This driver is always a problem.  He is incompetent.  He gives two cards on two days, two numbers. I always have this problem with him."  Upon closer inspection, I did see that a second tracking number (that corresponds to the postcard notices but perhaps not the packages) had been placed over top of the first one.  My guess is that when we weren't home, the driver was going to drop the package at his next stop, the bike shop, but it was probably a Wednesday when they were home "preparing" for the holidays instead of selling bikes.  Who knows...anyway, after two days of driving all over town, I had my one package.  


This week when checking my mailbox one evening, I found a similar notice from DHL that indicated that I had a package at the "package station" which happened to be right down the street.  Hallelujah!  I was ready for this one.  I couldn't get there the next day, but went the day after that. Fully expecting a manned DHL store (like a FEDEX Office store). I pulled up to find this:

Concern quickly faded to a slight feeling of approval.  These efficient Germans may have something yet!  Low payroll if you have package lockers, right?  I approached the computer side of the kiosk and held my barcoded notice up to the scanner-looking window.

The computer said something, but no package was evident.  I tried punching in the tracking # on the key pad.  Nothing.  Fortunately for me, a young woman came walking by.  In German, I said "Excuse me.  Do you speak English?" to which she replied in perfectly pleasant English "Yes. I do."  I explained that I had received the notice and thought there might be a package for me in this kiosk, but that I couldn't figure out how to get it out.  She said she had never used such a kiosk before.  I told her that was ok, I just needed her to tell me what the computer screen was saying.  She walked up to it, touched the screen (which, admittedly, never occurred to me) and followed the instructions, eventually putting the bar code in the same scanner window.  The computer seemed to read the barcode, but evidently said something to the effect of the number and date didn't compute.  Here we go again.  My new helper handed me back the notice and apologized that she could be of more help.  I was starting to have deja vu and I had other things to do so I just put the notice in my handbag and got back in the car.  While out running errands, I saw a DHL truck double parked, making a delivery.  I pulled up behind him, jumped out and asked him in german if he spoke English (see a trend here???  Thank goodness I start my German intensive next week!).  Nope.  Again.  However, another DHL man popped up behind me and he spoke a little English.  I explained that I got the notice two days prior, went to the kiosk and scanned the barcode and the computer said the number and date didn't match.  How could that be?  He matter-of-factly explained that the packages are only stored there for 24 hours.  Do people in Germany not ever go away???   I asked where it was now and he told me to call the "hot line" (14 cents a min) to find out.  I got home, called the hotline, and got a very nice woman on the phone who, guess what, spoke NO English.  We tried but between the two of us, it was futile.  I have put a German friend on the job to call but DHL says they don't have any package with that tracking number.

As I write this today, I know we are missing at least two packages.  Whether or not one of them was ever down the street in the giant yellow locker I don't know.  Today I was told that I could go to the "Central Logistics center" and see if they had it or if it was already declared "lost and found".  If they had it, I should expect to pay a fee to get it.  Hello-if it is "lost and found" it's because they lost it and I am trying to find it!  Why am I paying to get it when the sender presumably already paid to send it?  Seriously, Fedex is going to take over the package world in Germany in no time.  These other folks have no idea how to get anything to addressees!  It is crazy!  (My Fedex delivery man says that it is because the other package delivery services don't pay very well and their employees just don't care.  Another local said they are more concerned about money and packages than service and people.  Either way, I am thinking leave packages with my neighbors, bring them another day, or leave a number where I can call and set up a delivery time.) How hard can this be???

World Cup Ski Jumping in Innsbruck

We arrived in Innsbruck, Austria to go skiing for a few days before the boys head back to school and found out when we got here last night that the World Cup Ski Jumping qualifier was here yesterday and that the Innsbruck finals were today.  We decided as a family that this would be a more unique experience for the day vs. skiing, so we purchased tickets, bundled up (including Baxter) and headed to the base of the mountain (on the tram with evidently everyone else in Innsbruck!).  It is a competition that takes place over four different days and four different locations.  Those who place in the top three at the conclusion of each day get points, which after the four locations' jumping is complete, are complied to determine the overall winner.  Admittedly, this is not a good analogy, but for my Southern friends, it is sort of like Nascar from a scoring standpoint.  Anyway, we had to hike into position, which turned out to be right along side of the large red stripe across the landing zone.  We later learned that this is the average distance of the landings of the competitors, determined during the qualifier.  A great location except that we could not see the very end of the jumping ramp but, we could watch the ski down, the competitors catching a boatload of "air", and them landing just abreast of us.  It was fantastic.

As a side note, here are the things that are plentiful at European winter sporting events:  beer (of course), gluhwein (hot, mulled, delicious red wine), and noise.  The Europeans love their horns and other noise makers, which, by the way, Baxter HATES!  Wendy wore him in a carrier up the hill so he wouldn't have snowballs hanging all over his belly and legs and so that he wouldn't have such cold little pads that he would hate it.  Although he loved the carrier and stayed warm, he shook and shivered from all of the noise until about halfway through the four hour event.  We did, however, learn that he likes gluhwine though...Check out some of the photos:

Josh the Weinachts Lottery Winner

Ok, so as we wander through this adventure, it has been great to experience the German customs and traditions, especially around the Weinachts holiday.  To you who think I just sneezed while typing, that is German for Christmas.

As gluhwein, which is a spiced, hot wine that really is the center of the Weinachts festivals, is served by the barrel full, there are countless other delicious treats to pair with it. Shwein schnitzel (pork chop sans the bone) and mushrooms on a non fitting bun, or a bratwurst on a really non fitting bun, or the mother load of deliciousness........racelette mit brot.

So before I stepped into a line, I tried to figure it out.  Imagine a cartoon-size wheel of cheese, cut in half, and on a moveable rack.  Directly above the massive half round of goodness, is a heat lamp that causes the cheese to bubble and bake tender brown in under 20 seconds.  Now the movable part comes in, as does the brot part.  (Brot is bread, by the way). Once the bubbling cheese is ready, the server guy swings the arm out from under the lamp, and scrapes the bubbly mess onto the awaiting peice of bread. Voila! A pizza without sauce, or a fondue without the cleanup.  But here is the best part:  some like it just like that, others go one step further and add zweibeln (onions) and gerkens (pickles), others go all in and get that, plus shinken (bacon).  

When I was about number three from the front, the festival meister came by to ensure the stand was closing because the whole fest ended like an hour earlier.  Well, not really knowing how to say " HELL NO, I have been wating a long time here, I have finally figured it out, and I want my bread with onions, pickles, and ham on it!", I snuggled up tight behind the rotund lady in front of me who apparently was deemed the cutoff.  I think I made her day.......any way, she acted like we were together, and I knew I was in.  

Finally, I am to the point where I understand how much things cost and how to make proper change, instead of holding out all my money like a five year old, so I handed the fella my money and he handed me the goey mess of heaven.  Now, I know that the combination does not sound that appetizing, but I can assure you, you do not want to miss out if you ever see such a stand at your local market.  More so, if you are lucky enough to get the "cheesy crust" like I was, you apparently have won the weinachts raclette lottery, so revel in your victory.  More importantly, if a large lady helped you get the last one served for the night, you can really acheive rock star status, at least in her eyes, by sharing said crust with her.

What fun we are having, hope you are too, and that the holidays find you all well.

Josh, the Raclette lottery winner