tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-343764992024-03-05T10:17:52.366+01:00poet~lover~rebel~spyNow appearing on the internets!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-61881299140381080372011-05-15T19:55:00.006+02:002011-05-15T23:49:03.253+02:00How to Take Europe by Surprise: Analysis of the Eurovision 2011 Results<a href="http://www.eurovision.tv/save-files/resizes/a1/89/9d/38/42/0e/75/93/66/b1/12/e3/be/e5/f9/ed/AD4_8035.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 153px;" src="http://www.eurovision.tv/save-files/resizes/a1/89/9d/38/42/0e/75/93/66/b1/12/e3/be/e5/f9/ed/AD4_8035.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Azerbaijan's victory in the 2011 Eurovision Song Contest came as a shock to many, present company included. In order to better understand the impact of various European blocs on voting outcomes, I took the data provided by eurovision.tv and ran some analyses. I'm going to throw them out here with just a bit of discussion in the hope that we can come to some conclusions together in the comments.<div><br /></div><div>The first thing I looked at was how many countries cast a vote of any size for each of the top-five countries. Then I broke them down by how many of each vote each of those countries received.</div><div><br /></div><div><ul><li>FIRST PLACE (221): Azerbaijan -- 30 countries voting: 3 1st, 5 2nd, 10 3rd, 2 4th, 3 5th, 2 6th, 1 7th, 2 8th, 1 9th, 1 10th</li><li>SECOND PLACE (189): Italy -- 30 countries voting: 4 1st, 5 2nd, 1 3rd, 2 4th, 6 5th, 1 6th, 2 7th, 5 8th, 1 9th, 3 10th </li><li>THIRD PLACE (185): Sweden -- 32 countries voting: 2 1st, 6 2nd, 0 3rd, 1 4th, 5 5th, 2 6th, 7 7th, 4 8th, 0 9th, 4 10th</li><li>FOURTH PLACE (159): Ukraine -- 23 countries voting: 3 1st, 3 2nd, 2 3rd, 6 4th, 2 5th, 2 6th, 1 7th, 1 8th, 3 9th, 0 10th</li><li>FIFTH PLACE (134): Denmark -- 19 countries voting: 3 1st, 3 2nd, 1 3rd, 3 4th, 3 5th, 2 6th, 1 7th, 2 8th, 0 9th, 1 10th</li></ul></div><div>(If you're interested in all the details, you can view the entire data set, including how many countries voted for each entry in the Final, in <a href="https://spreadsheets.google.com/spreadsheet/pub?hl=en&hl=en&key=0Aja0AIQoCZ9adEszdWlZOV9MbEV3SEVoY1ducVJ5WlE&single=true&gid=0&output=html"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >this Google Document</span></b></a>.)</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Rule #1 for Taking Europe by Surprise: Aim for Broad Appeal</b></div><div>The top-three countries all had at least 30/42 countries voting for them (with one removed because they cannot vote for themselves). The next two countries hovered around just 20 countries each. Though he didn't take the title, Sweden's Eric Saade did have one thing right: you'll "get" the title "when [you're] popular" across the board >cue sound of shattering glass<.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Rule #2 for Taking Europe by Surprise: Aim for Third Place</b></div><div>Essentially what this breakdown shows us is that you don't need to be everyone's <i>douze points</i> -- you actually come out better if you aim to be just good enough. Azerbaijan monopolized nearly 25% of the third-place votes and thereby secured themselves the win. Italy scored high in 2nd, 5th, and 8th places, Sweden in 2nd and 7th.</div><div><br /></div><div>Before I went into greater detail of which blocs voted for whom, out of curiosity I looked at the countries who cast NO votes for the top-five entries to see if regional/historical preferences were already at play.</div><div><ul><li>Azerbaijan received no votes from: Armenia, Bulgaria, Denmark, Macedonia, Germany, Ireland, Italy, Norway, Serbia, Slovenia, Spain, UK (7/5 west-east split)</li><li>Italy received no votes from: Bulgaria, Croatia, Denmark, Israel, Moldova, Norway, Russia, Slovakia, Sweden, Netherlands, Turkey, Ukraine (7/5 east-west split)</li><li>Sweden received no votes from: Albania, Austria, Bulgaria, Germany, Italy, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Spain, Switzerland (even 5/5 split)</li><li>Ukraine received no votes from: Austria, Belgium, Bosnia, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Iceland, Ireland, Israel, Latvia, Lithuania, Norway, San Marino, Spain, Switzerland, Netherlands, UK (15/4 west-east split)</li><li>Denmark received no votes from: Albania, Armenia, Austria, Azerbaijan, Belgium, Bosnia, Croatia, Macedonia, Finland, Georgia, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Lithuania, Moldova, Portugal, Romania, Russia, Serbia, Spain, Switzerland, Turkey, Ukraine (14/9 east-west split)</li></ul></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Rule #3 for Taking Europe by Surprise: Aim to Please Both West and East</b></div><div>The top-three vote getters all had nearly equal geographical splits in the countries that disliked their songs entirely, i.e. their styles were not polarizing culturally/geographically. Note that the fourth and fifth place winners were strongly less appealing to one area generally -- and therefore saw fewer points from the other region overall.</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point, I started working more closely with the numbers and the regions. I looked only at the data for the Final competition for 2011 -- a better analysis would take into account the influence of the semi-final voting on the participation and results of certain blocs in the final. I also stuck to clearly defined historical-geographical regions; a more nuanced analysis might consider further where certain Western or Eastern European countries should lie based on their voting preferences. Further fragmentation is certainly possible and would be more truthful based upon analysis of voting patterns over many years, not just the 2011 competition.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here are the blocs I chose to examine:</div><div>Western European bloc: Austria, Belgium, Cyprus, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Iceland, Italy, Malta, Norway, Portugal, San Marino, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Netherlands (20 countries)</div><div>Scandinavian bloc: Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden (5 countries)</div><div>Large Communist bloc: Albania, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Bosnia, Bulgaria, Croatia, Estonia, Macedonia, Georgia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Moldova, Poland, Romania, Russia, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Ukraine (21 countries)</div><div>Strictly Soviet bloc: Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Estonia, Georgia, Latvia, Lithuania, Moldova, Russia, Ukraine (10 countries)</div><div>Yugoslav bloc: Bosnia, Croatia, Macedonia, Serbia, Slovenia (5 countries)</div><div><br /></div><div>What the analysis showed:</div><div>The Strictly Soviet bloc is the only one that did not hold together in a meaningful way in 2011. Otherwise, the impact of bloc voting is both obvious and significant. That said, the impact is seen to be greatest not necessarily on the winners (who garner large amounts of votes across the board), but rather on the middling entries from each region (whose point totals attributable to bloc voting can reach nearly 80%) .</div><div><ul><li>10 of Western Europe's entries (total of 13, including the Big Five) received over 50% of their votes from the Western European bloc, among them the 2nd, 3rd and 5th place winners.</li><li>8 of the Large Communist bloc's entries (total of 12 entries) received over 50% of their votes from the bloc, among them the 1st and 4th place winners.</li><li>10 of top 13 Western European bloc, 9 of top 13 Large Communist bloc, 3 of top 3 Yugoslav bloc, and 4 of top 6 Scandinavian bloc vote-getters (by total) came from each bloc respectively. </li></ul><div>Feel free to extrapolate further and leave your thoughts in the comments.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-37361402854576357692008-07-23T10:38:00.002+02:002008-07-23T10:49:29.842+02:00Textures of the Alhambra, Granada, Spain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbr3NqWETTIqR9rayrWM9iVPtLVYq3VRuGkXGmMvgvHtE5BjXktX7-IcUy9qNicobvteKvexSw2T8E7m6Ih5pqYBMgyiPEXZA9uxI9PSUulXR3y28l-9Mke0cfp-YOOKL8ycS_9Q/s1600-h/alhambra-collage+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbr3NqWETTIqR9rayrWM9iVPtLVYq3VRuGkXGmMvgvHtE5BjXktX7-IcUy9qNicobvteKvexSw2T8E7m6Ih5pqYBMgyiPEXZA9uxI9PSUulXR3y28l-9Mke0cfp-YOOKL8ycS_9Q/s400/alhambra-collage+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226126764061991490" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Interactive feature. Scrolling over the rectangles, readers would have the possibility to view the full images. Could link to slideshow of all images. It would also be possible to include facts and information about the Alhambra, about Granada, or quotations from an accompanying text as a grayed caption.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-67604378687885948152008-07-23T10:29:00.004+02:002008-07-23T10:50:51.058+02:00Open Letter to GlimpseDear editors/judges in the Glimpse Correspondents competition,<br /><br />I like to write and take photos. My digital camera even shoots video. But I do not currently have the skills (or software) to edit these lovely products into glamorous Flash presentations that will oooh and aaah you from the start. So you will have to use your imaginations a little to see the potential in the posts that follow. <br /><br />I assume National Geographic has a fine team of IT professionals who can wizard these things into something all of us can be proud of. I am happy to learn as much as I can from those individuals to make their job easier and increase my own skill base.<br /><br />For my friends and readers who have no idea whom I'm addressing here, just enjoy the photographs that follow and feel free to leave your comments and suggestions.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-67606458166618388262008-02-07T15:30:00.000+01:002008-02-07T15:49:26.367+01:00Was für ein Krach!At 3 p.m. Berlin Standard Time, children began breaking glass bottles on the square in front of my apartment building. (Same hooligans who threw eggs at my windows, I supposed.) At least, that's what it sounded like till I had the nerve to get up and look out the window.<br /><br />Instead, I found a large party of fancily-dressed Germans smashing plates, cups and even a really nice-looking mixing bowl. Kids and adults, they heartily flung and smashed dishes for a good half an hour. Now (I did mention they're Germans, right?) they're busily sweeping up the shards and tossing them in a dumpster. Each tinkling and crashing sound pierces my double windows, far louder than the highway traffic nearby.<br /><br />Across the street from my place is a little bar/restaurant with lamps in the windows that blind us nightly which specializes in wedding receptions. And this is one of those traditions (unlike <a href="http://geekbuffet.wordpress.com/2008/02/02/did-that-critter-see-his-shadow/">Groundhog Day</a>) which seems not to have crossed the ocean: reception guests smash dishware in honor of the couple, in the belief that the more shards produced, the more successful the wedding will be. The only similar tradition I can think of on our side of the pond is the Jewish custom of stepping on a glass after the wedding pair has said their vows.<br /><br />Just remember this the next time German newlyweds remind you to bring a dish to the reception -- they mean one you're willing to smash, not to share at the table!<br /><br />And on this note, many happy returns of the day to my friends Jan and Ana, who were married in Berlin this week. I've got a bowl with your name on it, my friends :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-34941492417852297932007-12-10T19:07:00.001+01:002007-12-10T19:43:23.504+01:00The Best-Laid Plans . . .It's good to write down a plan for the day, especially if you have a lot of things to do and are afraid you might forget something.<br /><br />Writing things down, though, usually causes one of two things to happen. Either<br />1) you lose the piece of paper somewhere on your errands (typically the beginning) and have to try to do everything from memory anyway; or<br />2) things go terribly, horribly NOT according to the plan you made.<br /><br />Today was a #2 kind of day (no pun intended). It was my return trip to the Berlin Foreigners' Registration Office.<br /><br />You may remember from <a href="http://poetloverrebelspy.blogspot.com/2007/09/berlins-foreigner-registration-office.html">my earlier misadventures</a> that when I showed up in late September, they were completely overwhelmed with applicants and told me wait six weeks before contacting them again. A temporary extension with the laughable name of "Fiktionsbescheinigung" would expire Christmas Day.<br /><br />Four weeks ago, I sent an email to the office to apply for an appointment. Ten days go by without a peep. I send another email with the original attached, asking for a reply as I am leaving for the U.S. in (then) two weeks. Again no reply. Which means, if you remember, that you then go wait in line -- and since Berlin's foreigners all have to register in one and only one office, that line is loooooooooooooong.<br /><br />I woke up at 4:30 a.m. but didn't really think getting there early would help much. I arrived (still dark) about 40 minutes after the office opened at 7 a.m. The first line to get my number for the waiting room was surprisingly short. I was given number 225. That meant I was the 25th person in line. Last time, when I was #21, I was served shortly after 9 a.m.<br /><br />Today at 9 a.m. they were on student #11. Another student (#24) in the waiting room and I left, him to print some financial documents at an internet cafe, me to get a haircut. I returned 20 minutes after he did at 10:20 a.m. They were on #21. There was a girl still sitting with us who had turned in all her documents and was waiting for her passport to be processed. She was #8. An hour later, we were both finally called to submit our documents; #8 was still waiting. More waiting. #8 was called and left. More waiting. #24 was called, got his passport and temporary extension, and left. One little Indian.<br /><br />After 1:30 p.m. (did I mention they close at 2?) I am finally called to the office. "Please go pay your 40 euros."<br />"The sign says 30 euros for an extension."<br />"This was an extension for 30 and a change for 10. Don't tell me you don't have it?"<br />"I don't" (and I really didn't, because I'd just spent the 10 euros on a haircut).<br />So the woman told me to pay the 30 I had and put a note in my file that I owed 10 euros. I asked if I could transfer the money. That's not possible either.<br /><br />I return with my paid receipt and receive my new residence permit. I looked it over because I was concerned about permission to work. Thankfully, the law had changed, allowing those staying on this visa to retain their "student worker" status -- 180 half days or 90 full days of work per year. Then my eyes fell on the name. NOT my name.<br /><br />They had put someone else's name on my permit. The permit that was now stuck in my passport. I was asked to leave. In a half an hour she called me back and gave me the correct permit. Only 36 total students had been served in 7 hours. I walked to the bus stop, grabbed a quick lunch between transfers as I was absolutely famished, scarfing down my lunch on the way home. I got home at 2:45 p.m., eight hours after I left for the office in the first place. Aaarrrggghhh.<br /><br />I thought I'd be done by mid-morning, would get my haircut, head to the gym, come home, have lunch (which was waiting for me here), finish a job application, mail it off, photocopy fliers and post them at the university, have dinner, collapse in bed. After a full day of "working" at the Foreigners' Registration Office (with a haircut "break"), I came home and finished the job application, mailed it off, had dinner, but I didn't have a chance to make those copies and post them. Now I'm digesting before I head to the gym. If I'm not totally dead when I get back, I'll watch a movie that needs to go back to the library.<br /><br />There are still so many things on the list. Did I mention I'm going home in three days?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-45946309473248132592007-12-01T00:46:00.000+01:002007-12-01T01:26:50.849+01:007 StrangersPicked to live in a house and have their lives taped, to find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real. . .<br /><br />Here are the rules:<br />1) <a href="http://seaswell.wordpress.com/">Link to the person that tagged you</a>, and post the rules on your blog. [Check]<br />2) Share 7 facts about yourself. [Check]<br />3) Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs. [Check]<br />4) Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. [Check]<br /><br />Here are my first seven:<br /><br />1) I'm living with a roommate [mostly] voluntarily for the first time ever and things are going really well. This makes me feel better after a couple really awful experiences with Russian old-lady roommates who did things like consult their psychic about me (verdict: I needed to move out), wear surgical masks in my presence and throw tantrums.<br /><br />2) My roommate and I decorated for Christmas, which involved making two pine wreaths and two swags. I pulled out my collection of Christmas stuff and was sad to find that my first Christmas ornaments (no value beyond sentimental) from my only Christmas alone (in Russia at that) aren't there and I'm not quite sure where else they'd be.<br /><br />3) Those ornaments aren't the only purchase from Russia I've been pondering of late: I'm pretty sure I bought a chic felt winter hat, but now I can't remember where it is or what exactly it looked like. I orient visually and cannot picture it in my room at home. I don't have it here. Did I even buy it in the first place?<br /><br />4) I'm in Hamburg this weekend, celebrating Thanksgiving nine days late. For the communal table, I made a family specialty, Wild Rice Dressing. In Germany, wild rice costs $7/lb.<br /><br />5) I'm staying with my quasi-host family/friends from Hospitality Club. There is a family of three from Brazil here as well. I am so impressed (as always) with how open and relaxed my friends are. They make it so easy to jump right in to their home.<br /><br />6) Today I went to the doctor for the last time on my comprehensive German insurance. He said my knee has now reached full extension. Two weeks (and 16 therapy appointments) ago, I was still 5 degrees away. While I'm happy that I've made such progress, I'm afraid that it will regress and regress permanently.<br /><br />7) I joined a gym so that I could keep doing my therapy exercises on my own. I enjoy the classes and the sweat and really really enjoy the sauna (even if the Germans have as many rules about the sauna as Icelanders have about swimming pools). When did I become this person?<br /><br />Here are my second seven:<br /><a href="http://yedidasblog.blogspot.com">Woodzh' ya....?</a>, <a href="http://bodyinmotion.wordpress.com/">Body in Motion</a>, <a href="http://dkwatson.wordpress.com/">From My Wandering Mind</a>, <a href="http://tushuguan.blogspot.com/">Biblio File</a>, <a href="http://diversey.blogspot.com/">Diversey Grand</a>, <a href="http://drivinnowhere.blogspot.com/">On the Road (Again)</a>, <a href="http://katemakestracks.blogspot.com/">Making Tracks</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-27836759540225083302007-11-08T21:02:00.000+01:002007-11-08T21:38:24.265+01:00Sensing an Earlier TimeYesterday in Berlin was November <span style="font-style: italic;">pur</span>: fat cold raindrops loudly striking broad leaves; chill, strong wind blowing my exhaled breath and my hair; a carpet of bright yellow leaves underfoot, giving off the faint scent of decay. It was all the atrocious and wonderful things about fall at once.<br /><br />All of my senses brought me back to a late September 10 years ago. My high school considered outdoor education an integral part of the learning experience, so my class went camping four times in six years. By the time we were seniors, we were experts in paddling and portaging canoes -- so much so that upon completing our 21-mile trip early, our counselors treated us to Dairy Queen for being the easiest and most enjoyable group of the summer.<br /><br />For the four days we were on trail, however, the weather was the typical autumn I described above. It is easier to romanticize when you are going from warm museum to warm museum and have a bus or subway to catch. It is altogether miserable when you are the navigator, holding the waterproof map and sitting in two inches of water which has pooled between the packs under your cold, wet butt.<br /><br />The aural and olfactory cues had me recalling the songs we had sung on those paddles through the Minnesota wilderness, trying to forget our frozen fingers or how damp our clothes were and our tents were going to be that night. My mind's eye filled with the image of my small blue mitten, lost somewhere in our travels, floating alone on the Kawishiwi River -- remembered only because it was enshrined as a haiku in English class upon my return.<br /><br />Our personal stories are as fleeting as this, their recollection significant only for the people involved, invoking reflection on the odd juxtaposition of the situation then with the present which had called it forth. This is why you'll find me singing camp songs under my breath as I walk through Berlin this week. Blame it on the raindrops and the wind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-30100640563757668932007-10-31T09:16:00.000+01:002007-10-31T09:19:20.751+01:00The Dummies Guide to Getting Up Earlier1) Note that Daylight Savings Time is ending.<br />2) On Saturday night, set your clock back one hour.<br />3) Set your alarm back one hour.<br />You are now -- painlessly -- getting up an hour "earlier." Congratulations!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-89404893852389738702007-10-21T17:47:00.000+02:002007-10-21T18:37:20.403+02:00Sweeden's yust like Minnesotah? Yah betcha!I took my first trip to Sweden this week and I have to tell you -- it looks just like Minnesota. Right down the yellow birch in fall, the calmly undulating highways, the way they had to blast through walls of rock to make those highways. They too have legends about shipwrecks and lots of blond-haired folks named Anderson. The main differences I noticed were a lack of maples providing red and orange color (even the forests are blond), a serious increase in the number of vowel sounds and the price of beer, and, oh yeah, how everyone I met had a cradle-to-grave safety net of health insurance and unemployment coverage. So, you win some, you lose some, I guess.<br /><br />On the bus ride between Stockholm and Nyköping (pronounced, naturally, nee-sher-ping), I spent a lot of time imagining those Swedes hundreds of years ago, crossing the ocean, arriving in the United States (apparently to Delaware?), breaking out across the nation in horse buggies a la Oregon Trail, arriving eventually in Minnesota. That cold, dark, northern land reminded them exactly of home. And for some reason, after traveling thousands of miles to escape persecution or poverty, they chose to set up shop in the same god-forsaken climate with the shortest growing season in the lower 48.<br /><br />That must be why those Scandinavian types don't have a reputation for being so smart. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ole_and_Lena">Sven and Ole</a> are just the tip of the iceberg.<br /><br />I also discovered that Duluth's sister city, Växjö (something like vek-shoe), is the Swedish equivalent of Nowheresville. Are we not, at times, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-0VIgjSJFFc">the exact same thing</a>?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-30180072224003658042007-10-09T12:49:00.000+02:002007-10-09T12:55:07.760+02:00Christmastime Already?Since the Germans don't really celebrate Halloween, there is nothing to keep the Christmas tide from starting even earlier than in the States. That means last week the seasonal foods section appeared in all the supermarkets. Good news for me, since I love the Glühwein (mulled wine) and Spekulatius (ginger cookies) season. I also saw Christmas decorations in a discount store. Still, three months before Christmas seems like overkill, doesn't it?<br /><br />Speaking of Christmas, the tickets are booked: I'll be back from the 13th of December to the 10th of January. Mark your calendars and let's set a date to get together if you'll be in Duluth then.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-39252754117221798242007-10-03T17:04:00.000+02:002007-10-03T17:34:51.115+02:00The Trials and Tribulations of Feeless International Banking2007 will be remembered as the year I opened three bank accounts and closed one. My Deutsche Bank account, the one I opened as a student in Frankfurt/Oder in 2003, required that I submit my current student registration data in order to keep my free account. Well, the jig was up October 1, and to avoid their 7 euro/month banking fee (banking fees are sooooooooooooooooo 1980!), I had to open an account at a different bank and close the DB account. While most banks in Germany claim to have "free" accounts these days, they're only free to people with a high minimum balance or a monthly transfer from a job. The jobless and penniless among us? We have to PAY to bank. Reminds me of that Philadelphia study on the high costs of being poor . . .<br /><br />So I finally found a bank in Hamburg that would give me a free account AND a free Mastercard. That is like gold over here, where you also have to pay a yearly fee to have a credit card (paying for credit cards is soooooooooooooooooooooo 1980!). I was happy to throw off the bonds of Deutsche Bank and run into the welcoming arms of Sparda Bank. I transfered all my payments and notified all companies about my new account information.<br /><br />Meanwhile, I opened an account with Bank of America, which is a large bank partnered internationally with Deutsche Bank. Their agreement allows me to withdraw money from ATMs at Deutsche Banks for free with my BofA ATM card. Since I'm currently living off my American funds, this saves me $5 every time I withdraw. My plan was to withdraw funds at Deutsche Bank, walk down the street and deposit them in Sparda Bank. Couldn't be simpler.<br /><br />Then I got to Berlin. I went to my nearest Sparda Bank branch, seeking to deposit those euros into my account. They didn't have an ATM machine that allowed me to make deposits. Weird, I thought. I stood in line for the teller and asked her what I was supposed to do. She said, no problem, deposits are free. Then she entered my card number into her computer. "Oh, you're from Hamburg? You're right, it's not free. It will cost you 8 euros." I threw a little fit right there about what it meant to be a chain -- it doesn't do your customers much good if your branches don't actually perform basic services like deposits interregionally. I mean, you have to be kidding me, right? On top of that, there are NO Sparda Bank ATMs that accept deposits, none in Berlin, none in Hamburg. How could this even be?<br /><br />So this meant I had to open ANOTHER bank account. I figured I'd keep it all within Sparda Bank, but then those Berlin tellers were snippy with me again when I told them why I needed the account and they wanted proof of income. So, this time I chose a new bank, norisbank, that had recently been purchased by Deutsche Bank and was advertising free accounts, no ifs, ands or buts. The major benefit of the norisbank account is that I can withdraw AND deposit money at Deutsche Bank as well, meaning I can take my BofA money out and deposit it into norisbank all at the same Deutsche Bank location, without paying Deutsche Bank any fees. Now I really stuck it to them, right?<br /><br />Well, today I went online to transfer money from my primary bank, Wells Fargo, to my new BofA account, so that I could take out money (again free at Barclays) on my coming trip to London. And what do I discover? U.S. banks do not allow you to do free electronic transfers between bank accounts at different institutions. Say what? That is how European banking works. Everything is paperless and has been for ages. Why is the U.S. still in the Middle Ages of banking? The only way for me to get money from one U.S. banking account to another for free is TO WRITE MYSELF A CHECK and mail it to the other bank.<br /><br />Someday, someday a golden age will dawn, where capital movements are truly free and banks will facilitate rather than hinder those flows. Until that day, I will be mailing myself checks made out to, signed and endorsed by me so that I can deposit money from one account in Minnesota to another in "Minnesota" to a third in Berlin, so that I can transfer it into my fourth account in Hamburg so I can pay my rent and eat.<br /><br />See, this is what you miss by staying home!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-82146368774875961442007-09-27T18:03:00.000+02:002007-09-27T18:57:54.897+02:00Berlin's Foreigner Registration OfficeOne of the many bureaucratic hurdles one must jump through in order to continue living in Germany is to receive or extend one's residence permit. The process is usually fairly straightforward: you fill out an application with two photos; you have to be registered in the town where you are living (the first bureaucratic hurdle); you present your rental agreement; your proof of insurance; your bank statements, scholarship statement, or letter from your parents promising at least 500-some euros per month to support you; your acceptance to the university or language school, if you attend one; a job offer, if you have one; and some cash -- anywhere from 30-60 euros.<br /><br />In Frankfurt/Oder, this process generally took around a month. Their Foreigner Registration Office was only open twice a week, and the trainee there, powertripping on his ability to make things difficult, often required papers that were unnecessary and not at hand (with a bunch of stamps, natch). Also, for whatever reason, they couldn't actually print the title that goes in one's passport immediately, so about two weeks after everything was squared away one finally received that prized rainbow sticker that takes up two valuable pages in one's passport.<br /><br />In Hamburg, this process could be completed in about an hour, if one showed up at the office's opening time. Straightforward tasks like registration were handled in the Bezirksämter around the city rather than at the central registration office, which I now feel has to streamline the process (for applicants, at least) dramatically. I have nothing but good things to say about the two employees who helped me with my residence permit in Hamburg. They were incredibly helpful, tried to make things easier for me, granted me ample extensions, saw me outside of office hours, allowed me to call their personal extensions, etc. Tip of the hat, Eimsbütteler Bezirksamt!<br /><br />So now Berlin. I had heard stories -- that they didn't reply to requests for appointments, that the lines were long, that "preferred nationalities" got a more comfortable waiting room than others, etc. I applied (via email, how tech savvy) for an appointment at the end of August, before I left Hamburg even, for some point in September before my extended permit expired on October 1. After a week, their sad reply: there are no appointments remaining for September! What's a girl to do? Come and wait in line, they replied.<br /><br />And come (three times) and wait (five hours) I did. Me and the masses of people also denied appointments, many of them students just arriving in Germany.<br /><br />First, I have to say that the Berlin Foreigner Registration Office (sharing a building with the office dealing with asylum seekers) is in the freaking middle of nowhere, which is pretty hard in a big city like Berlin. And yet, tucked away between a canal and a bunch of train tracks, the nearest bus stop 500 m away with nary a subway or suburban train station in sight, they managed to put an institution for a huge population reliant on public transportation. From where I live, it takes an hour to get there, so I spent an additional six hours in transit.<br /><br />They are open only three days a week. Two of those days, they open at 7 a.m. and close at 2 p.m., but run out of appointments by noon. One day they open at the far more human 10 a.m., closing at 6 p.m. Today the line snaked through the crowd control setup in the registration hall, out and down a hallway, out the entrance doors and into the courtyard and was still outside 1.5 hours after opening when I left.<br /><br />Once you get your number in the registration hall, you continue waiting in a series of waiting rooms, depending on your nationality or academic status. Tuesday, they called my number 21 two hours after opening. Today they had served nine people in 1.5 hours. There isn't enough seating in any of the waiting rooms.<br /><br />And as if that's not bad enough -- 30 cents per page to copy. Only one photo machine. And the toilets don't have seats. You get to choose between a bowl to squat over or an authentic squat toilet. I have never met those anywhere else in my time in Germany.<br /><br />For me, the third time was the charm and I did end up with a piece of paper allowing me to remain here legally: a Fiktionsbescheinigung. I had to laugh at the name. It's good until Christmas Day. I'm supposed to contact them again in six weeks, by which point my file should have arrived from Hamburg and hopefully the start of school year madness will have subsided. I am guessing my appointment will be sometime in December. It sure would be nice (and would make things a LOT easier) to have a job offer (ha!) by that point . . .<br /><br />The good news is it appears the Fiktionsbescheinigung allows me to continue working at pithy jobs for now, even though the woman in the office had assured me my status would change. The other bit of good news is that I didn't have to pay anything yet.<br /><br />And while I complain about the process, the office and my treatment, I understand that it is still so much worse for those not from a western ally like the United States, for applicants with small children, for refugees, for everyone who doesn't actually speak German. And I also imagine how complicated, confusing and stressful it is for the foreign students in the U.S., especially after September 11. And you thought the DMV was bad!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-38264519899779019092007-08-27T13:26:00.000+02:002007-08-27T20:44:12.218+02:00Out of the Hospital, Into the FireI have successfully undergone my second surgery and have to say that I'm walking amazingly well considering that I was operated on Thursday. What is an outpatient surgery with local anesthesia in the U.S. is a full anesthesia, four days in the hospital affair here. I was released this morning and barely need my crutches (though I'm supposed to use them for three weeks). Though the surgery took twice as long as planned, resulting in my lower leg being numb and tingly (asleep) for 12 hours, I am certainly thankful everything else seems tip-top this time around and that my body maintains its ability to quickly heal itself.<br /><br />I head to Berlin Friday with the last of my stuff, my fish Ruby, two new bank accounts, and a whole lot of feelings to sort through. Before I went into the hospital, I started counting the lasts: last walk down my street, last ice cream cone or olives from the local shop, last weekend living in this city, last time doing X or Y. There are so many things you always think you'll do, always make time for before you leave, that simply sneak up on you when the end actually comes. I did try to do a number of them while I could still walk -- but then, it's not really so much about checking sites off a list as it is about regrets over paths not taken, drinks not had, buses never ridden. Fall, as much as it signals new beginnings for those who follow an academic calendar, can also be a season of reflection and regret. Its chill is already hanging in the air.<br /><br />What I regret more, perhaps, are all those lasts I didn't think of in time -- mostly that the students of my program were together for the final time in the days preceding the surgery, people whom I will never see again, and I didn't take more time to talk with them about their plans or wish them well because I was too caught up in my own dramas. I would be happy if all their dreams for the near future come to fruition, and overjoyed if they all learned to be a bit kinder.<br /><br />Despite all the uncertainty that goes with this move -- with leaving academics, with a new city, a new roommate, no job and now physical limitations -- there are so many things to look forward to with this new start. For the first time, I will be living in a city because it is where I want to be, not because it is where what I want to do is located. And what a city, my Berlin! Life of late has seemed a bit of trial by fire, and maybe I am giddy from the feeling of strength that proverbially comes when you survive such challenges. But for the moment, choice rather than necessity is guiding my path and I will embrace it -- and my new laboratory, my new home, Berlin.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-19561805188554281242007-08-07T19:41:00.000+02:002007-08-07T19:59:55.962+02:00Getting Ready for the Next MoveIt's hard to know which is the biggest change in my life recently:<br />+ the submission of my Master's thesis and the nearing end of my academic career (for now, at least)<br />+ the first or the second knee surgery to repair my torn ACL<br />+ my planned move to Berlin, to look for work there, in Europe, and beyond<br /><br />Since the first two followed in rapid succession and I currently find myself between surgeries, I have been preparing myself for the third. Last week I found a new address in Berlin, my own large room in a sunny shared flat in the area known as Schöneberg. Now my task is to pack up all my things and figure out a reasonable way to get them to Berlin before my next surgery.<br /><br />Otherwise, there are about a million other little things to deal with, like passing along my new address to insurance and utility companies, unregistering in Hamburg and reregistering in Berlin, registering myself as unemployed, applying for jobs, etc. Never a boring moment here, no sirree!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-35449416325329121312007-07-29T18:46:00.000+02:002007-07-29T19:04:39.986+02:00Get Simpsonized!I'm not one to normally push advertising, but this is just too cool not to pass along. <a href="http://simpsonizeme.com">What you would look like had you been born in Springfield.</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFuyPgNrKg5dFL5h7nN_mVXfY9CZred3WrmDlqwcrz6w5Y5nC4_PD0oDRHa2gRoiehM2vzhs5D5sJcHayuZQAlaX-kMiyPA7xXxmXWjk2SV6JmYWqqaEDcV1ij1-nFZ0mdlik5g/s1600-h/simpsons2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFuyPgNrKg5dFL5h7nN_mVXfY9CZred3WrmDlqwcrz6w5Y5nC4_PD0oDRHa2gRoiehM2vzhs5D5sJcHayuZQAlaX-kMiyPA7xXxmXWjk2SV6JmYWqqaEDcV1ij1-nFZ0mdlik5g/s200/simpsons2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092665350724624402" /></a>You’ll need a color photo of yourself<br />+ facing forward<br />+ in .jpeg, .jpeg or .png format<br />+ with a minimum resolution of 640×480 pixels<br /><br />It requires an email address only if you wish to save your Simpsonized self for posterity on their website. It is possible to download a full-sized image and an avatar without registering.<br /><br />Even if you’re not a huge fan of the Simpsons, you can try it out to appreciate the face recognition software used to discern features and create personalized images. It’s a fun way to kill 20 minutes, I promise!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-66645637337535472022007-07-24T12:05:00.000+02:002007-07-24T12:08:30.772+02:00Rooftop Garden Part DeuxThe same day that BBaron <a href="http://geekbuffet.wordpress.com/2007/07/05/gardening-time-again-the-first-tomato/">harvested her first tomato</a> was the day that I returned from a long research trip to discover my neighbors had been calling the police on my rooftop garden. Someone had reported seeing children playing on the roof, which though untrue lead to an all-out ban on roof access. And wouldn’t I be so kind to remove everything from the roof before they had me arrested? That day would be best, naturally.<br /><br />This spelled the end of any enjoyment of sunshine and summer breezes in my chaise, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about my vegetables. I pulled in all my flowers — most of them never made it to blooming anyway, and the rest cooked to death in our overheated stairwell — but the veggies called for more space and sunshine that the roof still offered. So I fit everything on a 1m by .5 m rectangle of fake grass in front of the window and have yet to receive another “cease and desist, you tomato fiend” letter. Keep your fingers crossed, though, since you never know when the neighbors might go green with bean envy.<br /><br />And while my harvest can in no way compare to that of gardeners with ample space, healthy dirt and early summer sun, I have been able to harvest to-date one healthy-sized cucumber, a green pepper and a handful of beans. My little golden tomato — the first one which had moved to a stage of ripeness — fell off the vine while I was fussing with the boxes, so I included it in the picture as well. I fully expect more beans, cukes, and maybe three dozen tomatoes before the growing season is over. Here are a couple photos of the goodies.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqx5zr1tccUAvV9Wc3tmlI8BCx5F8j3lVLrkvfu0Hmtrk3L_XnYE7ui8-qYZummxZoAAgpZXjO9CHAcs3vIfyCKM8fEst05ERCrs1K1STPVJmn50HsA03PlRLGeeTCKN48hfRsMg/s1600-h/IM003081.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqx5zr1tccUAvV9Wc3tmlI8BCx5F8j3lVLrkvfu0Hmtrk3L_XnYE7ui8-qYZummxZoAAgpZXjO9CHAcs3vIfyCKM8fEst05ERCrs1K1STPVJmn50HsA03PlRLGeeTCKN48hfRsMg/s200/IM003081.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090702915742572514" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJZz1tRKKue9bHKMsCHvHXTBINF4f0A7CiaK8QcOVU9LE_1PJ9lbtK-0qeEdVArH9FAZIwUIfVaod4xNfT3x1j40kjTCPgDPZzu67EXWePsg-db5lQaRgXJ04aWJWaWVGbM-bpw/s1600-h/IM003112.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJZz1tRKKue9bHKMsCHvHXTBINF4f0A7CiaK8QcOVU9LE_1PJ9lbtK-0qeEdVArH9FAZIwUIfVaod4xNfT3x1j40kjTCPgDPZzu67EXWePsg-db5lQaRgXJ04aWJWaWVGbM-bpw/s200/IM003112.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090703091836231666" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-81123296956872900502007-06-17T12:12:00.001+02:002007-06-17T12:21:01.693+02:00Rooftop GardenWay back at the end of March, I posted an entry about my fantasy “summer sunshine paradise” out my kitchen window and on the neighboring rooftop. What began as a modest project of starting seeds on a secondhand shelving unit<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotwRnEpBuQzHfx02hkGTDW6GIQVYd9R03fzRTMl7E9DhoxB427q-WUQRAEBSSwL-WTSrwTCc7m9nKPLUw-D6oS0bAYiISsnccCiJZKUdQg5_azLW4aBf-OTgfkMqTn8QrBbqnwA/s1600-h/shelfview.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotwRnEpBuQzHfx02hkGTDW6GIQVYd9R03fzRTMl7E9DhoxB427q-WUQRAEBSSwL-WTSrwTCc7m9nKPLUw-D6oS0bAYiISsnccCiJZKUdQg5_azLW4aBf-OTgfkMqTn8QrBbqnwA/s200/shelfview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076974603313781538" border="0" /></a> has turned into this: <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7uosH_Nb-pKvpZ1RlZ6g-KzzmSpxLipZ9FB04a9FLbMclGyI3n8GWB1IW-kVdsyUXGnM3_Iuig1gabmrL1YwAReVSBDKiS687gDKYGa-1UaJ3qqdZwXClzHzmo9_nNAXZZPHzQ/s1600-h/fullgardenview.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7uosH_Nb-pKvpZ1RlZ6g-KzzmSpxLipZ9FB04a9FLbMclGyI3n8GWB1IW-kVdsyUXGnM3_Iuig1gabmrL1YwAReVSBDKiS687gDKYGa-1UaJ3qqdZwXClzHzmo9_nNAXZZPHzQ/s320/fullgardenview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076974869601753906" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My tomatoes are getting taller, the one cucumber that didn’t die after sprouting has baby cukes already, the freesia and iris are blooming. The replacement cukes and summer flowers I couldn’t plant till May have already made a good start as well.<br /><br />What follows is a mini-version of Make (which I know you geeks read religiously) — I’m going to tell you how I constructed my tomato boats, for anyone who might be considering planting in a small space like mine.<br /><br />Here’s a visual to help: <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8onMPWtNG_BpDAJNQPCfsMZN6v2kgRpLbQzjoKuDKOYP_tgEqquA-aaWysA-yH2HsUj0q6uqch02p9i3f53Uq2q4w01FOIJhyZX9PkDVWzzKQfYvg0JgxB7aF36if-BXznvTXzQ/s1600-h/tomatoboats.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8onMPWtNG_BpDAJNQPCfsMZN6v2kgRpLbQzjoKuDKOYP_tgEqquA-aaWysA-yH2HsUj0q6uqch02p9i3f53Uq2q4w01FOIJhyZX9PkDVWzzKQfYvg0JgxB7aF36if-BXznvTXzQ/s320/tomatoboats.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076975290508548930" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I purchased 2 meter-long window boxes at the hardware store. Approximate cost/window box: €2.20<br /><br />I purchased a 2m x 1m piece of what was called ostrich wire. It was a straight sheet of wire mesh which I cut in half with my wire snippers. Approximate cost/window box: €1<br /><br />I purchased 2 1m tall wooden dowels. Cost/dowel: €1<br /><br />First I prepared the window boxes for planting by punching out the drainage holes. Then, I stood the ostrich wire in the planter, curving slightly so it would fit. Using floral wire, I wired the mesh to the planter through the drainage holes. I also wired the support dowel to the wire mesh, and strung one piece of wire from the dowel in the front under the planter and around to the mesh on the back, securing tightly. Each of these contraptions looks sort of like a boat, with a large wire-mesh sail. The benefit of the wire mesh is that I can secure my tomatoes easily, again with floral wire, as they grow, giving the stalks support against the weight of the tomatoes. I then filled the planters with dirt and seedlings and placed them against the wall to protect them against the wind and give them plenty of sunshine. So far it’s working well! I can’t wait till I have fresh tomatoes. Even accounting for the floral wire, dirt and seed, I believe each planter of tomatoes has cost only €5 total (around $6.50) — and if you can reuse the tomato boats multiple years, you would see that price decrease dramatically.<br /><br />As for the rest of my garden paradise, I purchased some fake grass to dampen the sound (since I’m not *actually* supposed to be on the neighboring roof) and prevent damage to the roof from weight or pressure on rooftop-softening hot days. I bought a reclining chair, an inexpensive grill, and some flowering plants for a couple larger planters. I shade myself from the extreme heat and sunshine with a simple tarp, secured to the roof with clothesline I scavenged and a pack of bungee cords. I didn’t spend more than $100 on the entire unglamorous enterprise. Viva el verano económico!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-20412479433124814312007-05-20T01:38:00.001+02:002007-05-20T02:09:12.459+02:00Those Quirky Danes!I’ve been in seven different countries in the past six weeks, so you’ll have to forgive my tardy updating. I’ll begin my musings with the first, and dirtiest, stop on the tour: Germany’s neighbor to the north, Denmark.<br /><br />Germans head to Denmark in the summer to rent seaside cottages and enjoy the lovely beaches. They drive up, trunk full of provisions (Denmark is comparably expensive), and go out only to the beach. Many of them never explore the country or its people further.<br /><br />Too cold for the beach over the Easter holiday, my mother and I had little to do but wander . . . and wonder about those Danes. We discovered, for example, that the Danes have an <span style="font-style: italic;">odd</span> sense of humor. First, we tried to enter the art museum, but were greeted at all entrances by this sign:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4H8v1rklFRMw_yhIwfEDKE7hYLDFjCoIEIMkFOYIoiRppurCsQeLmClgnqJJ0QK7IwTiePp8TE6XzcRWSoBmgc95EtlOxWVxWB9yTBXDKhRoAAA579Vdzs9h9QDQWk4tfdroEgQ/s1600-h/IM002661.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4H8v1rklFRMw_yhIwfEDKE7hYLDFjCoIEIMkFOYIoiRppurCsQeLmClgnqJJ0QK7IwTiePp8TE6XzcRWSoBmgc95EtlOxWVxWB9yTBXDKhRoAAA579Vdzs9h9QDQWk4tfdroEgQ/s200/IM002661.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066421553997965154" border="0" /></a>There was no way into the museum without walking where this sign was telling us we shouldn’t. There was no construction or any reason that we couldn’t walk on the paths, just these conspicuously placed warnings. Rulebreakers we, we headed past them and inside. At the ticket counter, we asked where we were supposed to have entered, as everywhere we had been was posted with large DO NOT ENTER signs. They explained that the text below the universally recognized symbol (only in Danish, naturally) read something like, “Don’t enter here unless you’ve paid your taxes.” It was part of a campaign around Copenhagen to make Danes aware of where their tax money is spent and, therefore, how important it is to pay one’s taxes. We aren’t Danish residents, but even in our short stay we paid more than enough VAT (value-added tax, in Denmark an additional 20% on all purchases) to enter cultural institutions with a good conscience.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFdhFmVCAFUXqALTgOujKk59HueVEZYJA37p1rddvlbV7t_IvKAPQ61i2muXtWCOmEDB_It4FGuF8Mly6TUxKVPdCmo60D05jFVjppB4y2pnARNQlDkeqZsUKRUZ8axKqGIqukg/s1600-h/IM002665.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFdhFmVCAFUXqALTgOujKk59HueVEZYJA37p1rddvlbV7t_IvKAPQ61i2muXtWCOmEDB_It4FGuF8Mly6TUxKVPdCmo60D05jFVjppB4y2pnARNQlDkeqZsUKRUZ8axKqGIqukg/s200/IM002665.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066421854645675890" border="0" /></a>On our way from the museum to the city center, we passed by this statue, one of many (including the famous statue of Hans Christian Anderson) we saw “decorated” in a similar fashion.<br /><br /><br />Finally, on our way home from the outdoor architecture museum, we passed this large garbage container, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6jlmvtX_QoQ3rz5__dhGS8KEwGR212s-mdMK7DZhQ0GZ0R0hTQWu6nx2G9xm1-LNTWdEANX_YbVQAt52lc3HYYL8PX95uNHmdt7sWLg28ukScyy7ifWaLisSOFtTvZAXmtOV-w/s1600-h/IM002742.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6jlmvtX_QoQ3rz5__dhGS8KEwGR212s-mdMK7DZhQ0GZ0R0hTQWu6nx2G9xm1-LNTWdEANX_YbVQAt52lc3HYYL8PX95uNHmdt7sWLg28ukScyy7ifWaLisSOFtTvZAXmtOV-w/s200/IM002742.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066422266962536322" border="0" /></a>which is not a Danish joke <span style="font-style:italic;">per se</span>, but which we thought was funny nevertheless.<br /><br />Maybe it’s funnier if you know that Danes don’t actually throw any of their garbage in bins, preferring, at least in central Copenhagen, to litter instead. We were both surprised at how dirty the city was. On the plus side, it was always free to use the toilets!<br /><br />And surprisingly, this was often a pleasure, as bathroom fixtures seems to be one area to which Danes pay serious attention. They are proud of their Danish design, though I don’t know enough about it to comment whether or not these taps are, in some way, <span style="font-style: italic;">Danish</span> . . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelu9M52ypPcVIHkPZPoRlJ1AtDhS2TUbuVrbdQIhkPVpkRIKM0x66-AoDdhsZxFCwczE-u8PxraRZIBhb7G9VpRgnkArHMX8i8SboRn_HkEsRGqjV_0GwWUYRcUD34mu6TSHHGg/s1600-h/IM002743.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelu9M52ypPcVIHkPZPoRlJ1AtDhS2TUbuVrbdQIhkPVpkRIKM0x66-AoDdhsZxFCwczE-u8PxraRZIBhb7G9VpRgnkArHMX8i8SboRn_HkEsRGqjV_0GwWUYRcUD34mu6TSHHGg/s200/IM002743.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066422765178742674" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSG1dTU3iXzF08kKhwHi0NML_52eUeyK6_yazWsTYT3wQznI-E87LVGLx6ds4sGydLT06P2FiHu1jJUCeWV5Ln6wfDg-sEVEv1Pjf62vBqWnOlJbdWNRfIONbfK06-qiUp-imrPA/s1600-h/IM002666.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSG1dTU3iXzF08kKhwHi0NML_52eUeyK6_yazWsTYT3wQznI-E87LVGLx6ds4sGydLT06P2FiHu1jJUCeWV5Ln6wfDg-sEVEv1Pjf62vBqWnOlJbdWNRfIONbfK06-qiUp-imrPA/s200/IM002666.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066423637057103794" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSigvQmSNc1m-fWrBQcwEDr08o7y_CF1j4Z4H4Gaf7f2IiG33yCpQ2os15vCCbM371gsWfaE8GWZZwb2k6m5YO6XmmWviKOhPUp-gZDwR-RsPF8TjocmwXu9viz71l8ZZ44m-Pkw/s1600-h/IM002660.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSigvQmSNc1m-fWrBQcwEDr08o7y_CF1j4Z4H4Gaf7f2IiG33yCpQ2os15vCCbM371gsWfaE8GWZZwb2k6m5YO6XmmWviKOhPUp-gZDwR-RsPF8TjocmwXu9viz71l8ZZ44m-Pkw/s200/IM002660.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066423628467169186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgelu9M52ypPcVIHkPZPoRlJ1AtDhS2TUbuVrbdQIhkPVpkRIKM0x66-AoDdhsZxFCwczE-u8PxraRZIBhb7G9VpRgnkArHMX8i8SboRn_HkEsRGqjV_0GwWUYRcUD34mu6TSHHGg/s1600-h/IM002743.JPG"><br /></a><br />I’ve traveled enough to know that toilet paper, hot water, and ample soap and towels are optional public restroom items, even in many developed countries. Not only did Denmark not charge for their generally high-quality restrooms, these unique and interesting fixtures made for memorable handwashing experiences.<br /><br />Neither my mother nor I had been to Denmark before, so we wanted to see Copenhagen. It’s a relatively inexpensive trip from Hamburg; the five-hour, very comfortable IC train ride (ferry inclusive — that’s right, the train gets on a ferry) can be booked for €22.50 one-way. That said, any savings in travel costs is quickly eaten up by the high prices for mediocre restaurant food and just about everything else. To get your VAT’s worth, be sure to plan your trip over a Wednesday, when most museums in Copenhagen are free! Also, the national museums are always free — this includes the outdoor architecture museum, a collection of old houses and settlements from earlier times and from all regions of Denmark, including the Faroe Islands. For Easter, they offered some historical activities for children. Transportation buffs may also enjoy the driverless underground system, which whisks you through the tubes with a roller-coaster view. One final tip: though this is not clearly stated anywhere, the 10-strip card, which is the “cheapest” way to get around Copenhagen, can also be shared between two people by punching the appropriate number of strips (2 each for city travel, 3 total for city-airport or vice versa).<br /><br />Next stop: The Netherlands.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-59226187563814579292007-04-01T22:02:00.000+02:002007-04-10T16:21:21.663+02:00What's Sprouting?Unseasonably warm temperatures (it *was* just March, wasn’t it?) have me in a definite springtime mood. Some friends speak of a new kind of SAD: not Seasonal Affective Disorder, the diagnosis of wintertime blues; rather Spring Affective Disorder, where the combination of nice weather and long daylight hours fills one’s mind with fun-filled nights and outdoor activities (this despite the early spring being one of the busiest times of the year work-wise).<br /><br />I have to admit that the time change, which finally hit Europe this week, is a huge boon to post-workday activity, and my evening eating schedule has gone all wonky. Living on the top floor of a building with roof access, I spent many winter nights imagining how I would create there a summer sunshine paradise with my many plants and a reclining chair, where I would while away the hours of thesis research reading, lemonade in hand. The IKEA catalog arrived at just the right moments to keep the fantasy alive. You can see how that got me through the neverending madness that was January, right?<br /><br />This week I took my first step towards building said oasis when a free shelving unit appeared on my university’s exchange bulletin board. And my plants are doing their part by sprouting from seeds I planted a couple weeks ago.<br /><br />Having grown up in a family with a passion for gardening and having survived three winters and springs in Russia, I have been socialized to spend part of one’s summer tending one’s own crop. Anyone who does it knows that you can’t beat the taste of a home-grown tomato. There is no better way to know where your food is coming from than planting, tending and picking it yourself. However, considering I only have planters at my disposal and that I have to carry all dirt used up five flights of stairs, my enterprise is limited. My dad starts his tomatoes in January to ensure an early harvest and already has tall plants. But then, when it’s just me, how many tomatoes do I really need?<br /><br />I’m interested to know what everyone else is growing this year. Already sprouting here are three types of tomatoes (red fleshy and red and orange firm) and one type of cucumber. I’ve also got buckets of rosemary and basil that I kept over the winter, and I’m hoping to revive some lemon thyme.<br /><br />When it’s consistently warm enough, I’ll plant the following outside: pickling cukes, yellow beans, sunflowers, nasturtiums, lupines, beard carnations, and some other easy flowers and herb varieties.<br /><br />And for the eye, I’ve also got pots filled with iris, freesia, anemone, gladiola, and acidanthera bulbs; the iris were sprouting in the warm store.<br /><br />Any other balcony growers out there? What about folks with big yards and real plans? I’m curious what ideas and seeds have been popping up in your gardens.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-32725905892106497022007-03-20T10:28:00.000+01:002007-03-20T10:39:21.949+01:00Luck of the Irish<div class="entry"> <div class="snap_preview"><p>What kind of music does a leprechaun band play? Sham Rock. Ba-dum-dum.</p> <p>I headed over to Ireland for St. Patrick's Day. At 45 euros round-trip airfare, I just couldn't say no. I mean, that's cheaper than a non-sale rail return to Berlin for goodness sake!<br /></p> <p>I wanted to photograph a green Liffey (the river dividing Dublin into north and south). While it appears they’ve stopped that tradition (replacing it instead with green night lighting — probably a more environmentally conscious choice), I took more than a few photos of the colorful parade.</p> <p><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/girlflag.jpg" title="Irish Girl with Flag"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/girlflag.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Irish Girl with Flag" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/3puppets.jpg" title="Colorful Puppets"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/3puppets.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Colorful Puppets" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/girlonstilts.jpg" title="Girl on Stilts"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/girlonstilts.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Girl on Stilts" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/crows.jpg" title="Crow Puppets"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/crows.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Crow Puppets" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/eye.jpg" title="Big Eye"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/eye.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Big Eye" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/monster.jpg" title="Monster Puppet"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/monster.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Monster Puppet" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/tennessee.jpg" title="Tennessee Brass"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/tennessee.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Tennessee Brass" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/brass.jpg" title="Irish Brass"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/brass.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Irish Brass" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/computers.jpg" title="Computer Man"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/computers.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Computer Man" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/redpuppets.jpg" title="Red Puppets"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/redpuppets.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Red Puppets" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/pinkgreen.jpg" title="Pink and Green Frills"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/pinkgreen.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Pink and Green Frills" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/fatherson.jpg" title="Father and Son"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/fatherson.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Father and Son" /></a> <p>If some of these pictures seem weirdly sized, it is because I had to crop out the green hats and bald heads of Spaniards standing in front of me. The parade was heavy on puppets, stilts and American marching bands. What do a giant eye and a few monsters and dinosaurs have to do with St. Patrick’s Day? I can’t riddle you that either.</p> <p>There is a chain of stores, Carroll’s Gifts of Ireland, which must earn half of its yearly income on Irish-themed kitsch and krap this weekend alone. Everyone — native and tourist alike — gets into it, sporting garish hats, leprechaun beards, shamrocks, and orange-white-green anything. Here two examples:</p> <p><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/im002557.JPG" title="Americans in Irish Gear"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/im002557.thumbnail.JPG" alt="Americans in Irish Gear" /></a><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/butt.jpg" title="Gaelic Butt"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/butt.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Gaelic Butt" /></a></p> <p>I don’t think you even have to know Gaelic to get that one.</p> <p>From the parade, I headed over to the Ceili Mor — an outdoor street dance with Celtic music. The company sponsoring it handed out big foam fingers, which these kids put to good use:</p> <p><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/foamfingers.jpg" title="Foam Finger Fight"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/foamfingers.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Foam Finger Fight" /></a></p> <p>Also there, I spotted this little guy, showing that Irish men learn to hit the bottle pretty early on St. Patty’s Day:</p> <p><a href="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/drinkin.jpg" title="Drinking in the Streets"><img src="http://geekbuffet.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/drinkin.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Drinking in the Streets" /></a></p> <p>All in all, I thought Dublin seemed well prepared for the crowds and their refuse (littering is a popular Irish sport), with police officers and cleaning crews on duty everywhere from my arrival to my departure. Having been to Ireland twice before on the day <em>after</em> St. Patrick’s Day, I can attest to a marked improvement. You can read more about the events and the windy, snowy weather <a href="http://www.emigrant.ie/article.asp?iCategoryID=9&iArticleID=64636">here.</a></p> </div> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-52729257957618726992007-03-06T22:39:00.000+01:002007-03-06T23:15:17.118+01:00Celebrity Sighting of the WeekI was in Berlin attending a conference on arms control and disarmament, sponsored by the German Foreign Ministry and the German Foundation for Peace Research. For the most part, I found it well-organized. The panel topics were interesting, the speakers informative and approachable. There were a wide variety of experts from government, academia and the third sector, and I was impressed both by the number of American panelists as well as the number of women involved in security analysis and policy. I left feeling heartened by the possibility that a new American administration may be able to make meaningful steps towards elimination of nuclear weapons. The American news media are not alone -- the world, it seems, is already orienting itself to the 2008 election.<br /><br />Since I realize not everyone will recognize my Celebrity of the Week, the conference's keynote speaker and a well-known figure in this field, I will give you a few hints under our picture together.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimX5hb_3Ek9W5X-cxVZ6dpooN4oPCP9cnpHlzJErcrlxz9RDdRN9DWeK3Tvzjjh9RLgriLA60VVAsRNaT3ehEVEo3DXqdRIc0bHouPocUGCse0-GT3v-2TUH-Qhb1sBEnFKH-buw/s1600-h/blix.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimX5hb_3Ek9W5X-cxVZ6dpooN4oPCP9cnpHlzJErcrlxz9RDdRN9DWeK3Tvzjjh9RLgriLA60VVAsRNaT3ehEVEo3DXqdRIc0bHouPocUGCse0-GT3v-2TUH-Qhb1sBEnFKH-buw/s320/blix.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038932056305722258" border="0" /></a><br />1) In <span style="font-style: italic;">Swedish</span>, his last name is related to the word for lightning. (Thinking of reindeer might help on this one.)<br />2) Not only is he <span style="font-style: italic;">hans</span>ome, he is incredibly <span style="font-style: italic;">disarming</span> in person.<br />3) You may remember an <span style="font-style: italic;">Iraq Commission</span> that bore his name?<br /><br />I was naturally disappointed that all he knew about Minnesota was the name Senator Norm Coleman had made for himself bashing Kofi Annan. Way to represent our state, Senator!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-1173042010047203402007-03-04T21:43:00.000+01:002007-03-04T22:00:10.063+01:00GrabpflegeLiterally <span style="font-style: italic;">grave care</span>, it's the German word for tending to the graves of one's loved ones. They made a word for it, because it is such an important part of the culture.<br /><br />I'm currently visiting Berlin and yesterday headed over to one of my old haunts, the <a href="http://www.berliner-mauer-dokumentationszentrum.de/">Dokumentationszentrum Berliner Mauer</a>, to see if anything had changed since I finished my thesis on the Berlin Wall in 2005.<br /><br />In order to get to a very interesting section of original Wall that was removed in 1989, you have to enter a neighboring cemetery and walk through the gravestones. Very few people know or do this, even though I was impressed at how many visitors the Center seemed to have that day.<br /><br />My mom was recently joking about me liking cemeteries, because it's not unusual for me to seek them out while we're traveling -- less in search of famous people (no dancing on Jim Morrison's grave here) and more in search of gravestone art and the peace of a park of the dead. Moscow's Novodevichy and Prague's Vinograhdy are two of note. (I guess having two favorite cemeteries must make me a little weird.)<br /><br />This cemetery in the Bernauer Street is totally mediocre except for its history. It came to fall on the "front line" between East and West Berlin, and therefore neighbored the Berlin Wall for the Wall's 28-year existence. In order to visit and tend graves in this highly secured border area, East Germans had to apply for a permit. Only closest relatives -- grandparent, parent, child, brother, sister -- were granted such exceptions for fear of attempts to cross to the West. Those relatives who suddenly found themselves on the western side of the Wall were now unable to visit the graves at all, an everyday concern that illustrates the absurdity of drawing a dividing line through a modern city.<br /><br />The care Germans give the graves of their loved ones is extreme by American standards. My dad's secretary yearly places a planter of flowers on her father's grave -- probably on Memorial Day -- but asks my father to go and water them, since we live much closer to the cemetery than she does. My grandparents' plots are so far away that I've only visited their parched eternal resting places once. My parents have bought adjacent plots, meaning that I will only rarely visit their graves as well. For people like us, cemeteries have subscription services of flag planting and flower watering, in addition to the lawn mowing and other care they already provide.<br /><br />This would be unimaginable here, where I passed graves that not only had spring bulbs planted by a loved one blooming, but also new bouquets of fresh flowers. Of course, this is not every family and every grave. But it is many and it is overwhelming. On graves of people who died the year I was born. That is 26 years of actively tending to a grave, a ritual I appreciate and yet will never participate in. I imagine grave care as a ritual of the old, of the recent widower or of the aged wife and children of the family patriarch. Since I don't really know, I thought it would make a great anthropological study -- what keeps habitual gravetenders coming back? What do they do while at the grave? Who is this ceremony for -- the loved ones or themselves? Add to this the history of this cemetery -- did this loved one die while you were in West Germany? Were you not permitted to visit this grave for decades? Is this a form of atonement for your absence, for a divided Germany?<br /><br />Behind the pieces of Wall I was headed for was a (excuse the pun) graveyard of old and broken headstones from untended, unloved graves. Here a couple images from the scrap heap of the eternal sleep.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6210/3787/1600/588398/IM002485.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6210/3787/320/765584/IM002485.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />In this image, you can see some of the heap in the foreground. In the near background, by that sand or dirt mound, are the backs of the original Wall elements.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6210/3787/1600/701864/IM002482.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6210/3787/320/722155/IM002482.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Poor Charlotte.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6210/3787/1600/912985/IM002486.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6210/3787/320/891673/IM002486.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />What do you suppose happened to Luise? Buried in West Germany? Still alive?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-1164131944924990092006-11-21T18:20:00.000+01:002006-11-21T18:59:05.143+01:00New Home, New ProblemsНовый дом, новый проблемы! was the phrase with which the dialogue from section one of my first-year Russian textbook ended. The tenants in one apartment had a shower, but wanted a bath; in another, the reverse; and none of them had hot water. The landlord's response, complete with shrug -- be thankful we all have new apartments! But, new home, new problems!<br /><br />I successfully moved into my own place on the first of November and celebrated my housewarming this past weekend. Two rooms all to myself (as my fellow students keep reminding me), a cozy kitchen, a tiny bath. After three separate trips to IKEA, one delivery, the help of my friends and my former hosts, and a lottalotta hours of alone-time cleaning, scrubbing, washing and organizing (not to mention putting that IKEA furniture together), the place looks pretty darn good. For anyone who's really interested, I can send a powerpoint virtual tour your way.<br /><br />I am such a homebody that the organization of my castle is very important to me. I'm fairly impressed that I was able to do as much as I did in the two-three weeks since I moved in. That said, no matter how much one plans, one cannot foresee everything that could go wrong.<br /><br />I signed up for telephone and internet service two weeks before I even moved in. Due to complicated circumstances that even the phone company can't explain, they cancelled my application and then never notified me. This means the weeks that I was patiently waiting for service I was in fact waiting in vain, because they weren't coming. At all. Now I've signed up again and will be waiting another two-three weeks before it's finally connected. Which brings me to another Russian phrase, one my Novgorod host family invented after living with me -- без интернета, без рука (internetless, armless [in a sense, helpless]).<br /><br />I turned my heat off last week because temps were in the balmy 60s -- we had a couple days of really wonderful, non-November weather. When it turned cold and rainy again this week, I cranked the units in my bed- and living rooms back on. But nothing happened. Finally, when the indoor temperature had crept down to 50 degrees, I headed (actually limped, but that is another story) down to the landlord and asked if he knew why my heat wouldn't be working. He came up and looked at my water boiler -- my heating units run on warm water, heated by gas -- and noted that the gauge (of what, I'm still not sure) was on zero. He told me to turn it off (Sunday night) and that he would call around for repairmen in the morning. When I checked with him Monday afternoon, he said I was to call the building's owner, and warned me it would probably take awhile to be fixed. When I called the building's owner that night (from a payphone, as I still have no home phone), he said he'd given the apartment's former tenant the number to call -- hadn't she gotten in touch with me? So it wasn't until Tuesday morning that I got the repair firm's number, and it's not until Wednesday when I have free time for them to come and make the repair. Let's hope it's nothing elaborate, as I am gone Thursday through Monday for a seminar in Kosovo.<br /><br />The heat being off is more of an annoyance than anything -- one can sleep (as I have been) in multiple socks, shirts, and with long underwear. But the creature comfort of hot water is one I find it difficult to live without. Assuming it's fixed tomorrow, it will have been five days without a shower. No record, but I do have to go out into the world as well. And it's not a good idea to head to a country in reconstruction and overall development without having showered either.<br /><br />The funniest thing of all is that anyone reading my post who still thought I was in St. Petersburg would probably just shrug off the complications I'm facing. I have, in fact, faced similar problems while living in Russia. <span style="font-weight: bold;">But this is Germany.</span> It's not supposed to be like this here!<br /><br />Happy happy Turkey Day to everyone. This is not the first time I'll be away from my family, but it will be the first time that I won't be able to celebrate the day, as I'll be flying to Kosovo and our program goes late into the evening. So enjoy your time with family and friends and send a few pumpkin-pie thoughts my way.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-1161420727899818372006-10-21T10:15:00.000+02:002006-10-21T10:55:02.936+02:00Staying PutI made the decision yesterday to stay in Hamburg for the entire year. My program tried to tempt me with easy offers of moving to Berlin for at least February through June and working for <a href="http://www.berghof-center.org/std_page.php?LANG=e&id=13">this</a> really cool organization. As wonderful as that might have been (since I fancy both greatly), I opted instead to work at the institute I'm studying at and pursue my own thesis research.<br /><br />In part, I was not in the proper mindset to make such a move. First, I had to fight with the institute and with DAAD to even secure my spot in Hamburg. Then, I went through the process of finding an apartment I liked and moving all my stuff here. There is something so utterly tiring about moving every year or two; I just couldn't see myself voluntarily moving two to three times more this year.<br /><br />As another DAAD scholarship holder said, why even put down any roots or make any friends here in Hamburg when you won't be here next semester? Such a disjointed year didn't appeal to any of the foreigners in the program -- we'll all be in Hamburg for the spring.<br /><br />It's much easier for the Germans, who may themselves have cars or who have a better support network, to up and move (sometimes back) to a city in another part of the country. And so we foreigners sacrifice which institute may have been the best opportunity or the best fit in order to ensure a little stability and harmony in our year in Germany. I don't think our program understood this, as they were overwhelmed by the number of students wishing simply to stay put.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br /><br />The selection of our spring "residence institutes" was the final element in our 2+ week introduction to the program. In the days since my birthday (our first day of school), we've had tedious 9-to-6 days of lectures and presentations. Monday our classes actually begin, and I am looking forward to them greatly -- simply because I am in class no more than three hours per day!<br /><br />This coming week will be the first that I'll have had time to deal with all the bureaucratic nonsense that life in Germany entails. First on the list is registering at my new address (6 euros), which will be followed in short order by getting a university library card (free, but not possible without registration). I also need to register at the foreigner's office (60 euros), though I would like to hold off on that until DAAD has officially extended my scholarship for the full academic program; otherwise I fear I will need to pay the application fee again for a one-month extension.<br /><br />I've already picked an internet provider, though I have yet to sign up with my power and gas companies of choice. Then there are the bank transfers to arrange, the city library card (15 euros), all of the change-of-address notifications I will need to send out, and for whatever reason, the university has me registered under the wrong program . . .<br /><br />I guess the good news is that I will only do all of this once. So dear friends, now is the time to book your tickets to Hamburg!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34376499.post-1160085489045949122006-10-05T23:27:00.000+02:002006-10-06T00:07:28.130+02:00Geburtstagskind"Upon your birthday..."<br />A birthday comes but once a year, <br />And so upon it's arrival, you should drink some beer,<br />And laugh and play, and merrymake,<br />Or even bake a German Chocolate Cake,<br />And if you haven't traveled much,<br />Although, in your case, I have a hunch,<br />It does not apply, not even close,<br />For you have travelled the very most,<br />Then hop a train or plane or bus,<br />And go somewhere where joys are most,<br />And if it isn't to see your friends,<br />Who are in America, for which one can't make amends,<br />Then go to where you'll remember them<br />And know that on this very day,<br />They're thinking about you in every way,<br />And wishing you a Happy Birthday!<br /><br />"Woman of the world. An original haiku." <br />She speaks rus pol deutsch<br />Task master with nice sandals<br />Banana bread bakes.<br /><br /><br />Today is my birthday. I'm finally 26, which is young in Germany and old in America.<br /><br />Birthdays have been difficult since I've been living abroad. Since 05 October falls near the beginning of the academic year (which still dictates so many things in my life), I am usually starting a new program and have generally been thrown together with people I hardly know to celebrate. This means I greet birthdays of late with mild trepidation. Eventually I come to love and appreciate the people I'm with, but during the time in which my birthday falls, we are still somewhat strangers to each other. It's an odd ritual among acquaintances.<br /><br />Thankfully, most of my friends and family remembered to send an email to let me know they were thinking of me today, for which I'm quite grateful. And I know that when I finally have a mailing address (which will hopefully be resolved soon) there will be cards galore to make up for their present absence.<br /><br />In its own way, however, the placement of my birthday reinforces the idea that this is and should be a time to start afresh. It's also convenient for wishing, since there are (ever more) candles to be blown out. As I am partial to the even years, I am naturally hoping that there will be a lot of positive things happening in my life this year.<br /><br />Let's drink to that.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0