A short film

Perhaps you might find this short video I put together from clips I made at a recent soccer match amusing. The final score -- although that is somewhat irrelevant for the purposes of the film -- was 2-1 for the home team.

As with other aspects of this website, the video presentation tool seems to be a bit lame... meaning that my outstanding camera work has been laid to waste.

Local politics and the Bürgerentscheid

Among other weighty matters that have been keeping my mind occupied is the highly controversial neighborhood Bürgerentscheid, about which my opinion really doesn't matter anyway.

Seeing as how I can hardly remember my log-in and password, I think it's safe to say that I've been neglecting my 'blog' for awhile. It's not as though I've experienced any major life changes since the birth of Sophia, but somehow, I manage to keep myself busy. But lately Sophia has been sleeping for longer and longer stretches during the night, the weather outside has been less and less inviting, and I still don't have any great work responsibilities -- leading me to the (at least optimistic) conclusion that I could now resume more consistent 'blog' contributions.

Anyway, among the various discussions occurring in our small apartment these days, frankly there is nothing so titillating as the debate surrounding the merits of the upcoming Bürgerentscheid, which I'm pretty sure is the German word for referendum. It started a couple of weeks ago when we received a letter from Charlottenburg city hall, explaining to us in the excruciatingly detailed language typical of political rigamarole about the problems of local car owners, with whom we generally do not sympathize. In simple words, we were being informed that a decision whether or not to add parking meters to the streets of our part of Berlin is at stake in an upcoming vote. Apparently, the problem is that people drive from other parts of town and park on our streets because it's free. Then the people that live here or those who want to drive here to do business in our neighborhood have no where to park.

Assuming I understand it all correctly (I very well may not), the controlling Social Democratic and Green Party factions in the local government, in the interest of solving the traffic problem (and I suspect in a broader sense, discouraging car transit), decreed that the aforementioned meters shall be added. The conservative and financial liberal faction, however, not unlike the conservatives back in America, has a sensitive nose when it comes to taxation, and organized the referendum.

But like local politics back home, the devil seems to be in the details. Conny and I -- specifically Conny, actually, as I have no vote -- found ourselves in the funny position of supporting the conservative referendum, although we have no car and no pressing plans to acquire one. This is because according to the very detailed letter that we received, the proposed metered zone, for whatever reason, excluded our quiet little neighborhood. Meaning that if the referendum doesn't pass, other neighborhoods near ours will be metered and the parking space-devouring hoards will come specifically to our cozy little Kietz to leave their BMWs and Volvos for the day. This would be bad.

And so we reached our decision, that Conny would vote "Ja" for the Bürgerentscheid. Alles klar. Then about a week ago, huge pro-referendum placards of the 'Vote for Hindenburg' variety started appearing at every intersection, sometimes on every corner. We decided to check it out at the Kiezburo, the local community center where the social workers can be found that organize our neighborhood's occasional block parties, community festivals and meet-your friendly-police-officer sort of activities. As in America, these places tend to be staffed by extremely friendly elderly ladies, who despite all their good-naturedness, are unfortunately sometimes clueless. No exception here. This friendly lady didn't seem to know precisely which areas were going to be metered, and had apparently been advocating to the good people in our Kiez -- those without vehicles at least -- that they vote against the Bürgerentscheid, i.e. "Nein," i.e. for more parking meters.

It all reminds me of when I was younger person, when I often found myself attracted to the part of the conservative agenda advocating less government, less control. In the end, it's this sort of thing that really challenges my belief in the effectiveness of government. For average voters, it always seems like complicated wording and over-generalization makes it excessively difficult to properly understand the ramifications of such a proposal -- a decision which should actually be easy in comparison to selecting one of a set of unreliable people as leader. If only it were so simple as "Ja" or "Nein."

At anyrate, I ought to get back to trying to decipher how to get the best price of hundreds of dizzying train fares from Deutsche Bahn...

Brief update

Me, hard at work fathering.

In the words of Onion columnist Jim Anchower, I know it's been awhile since I rapped at ya. Not that I can imagine too many of you have noticed. But, should you have been anxiously clicking on your bookmark to my 'blog' everyday since I last posted, know that no major miracles (or tragedies, for that matter) have occurred recently.

"What all have you been up to since the last time you 'blogged,'" you might be wanting to ask me, however. Well, apart from fathering (see above) 24 hours a day, well, not all that much, actually. The wife and I have more or less been trying to get into a more comfortable routine with Sophia. There are good days (like when she smiles at me, looks at her book with me, or sleeps more than four hours at a time) and there are of course the difficult days (she threw up all over my shirt last week, albeit in a very cute kind of way.)

Aside from that, the search for work has become very serious in the last couple of weeks. So far I've had a couple of sniffs, but I don't much like to discuss my work prospects until I know more certainly what's happening. But hopefully something will come through, and if the last couple of days are any indication of how I fit into the job market here, I think I'll be able to find something fairly soon.

In the meantime, I will try to provide more meaningful 'blog' content...

Settling in at home

Baby pictures, and not my creative and witty musings, remain the bread and butter of my 'blog,' and of course more of them have been uploaded.

I was the younger of the two children in our family, and in part because of that, I had no clue what it was like to live with a youngster until last Tuesday, when my wife and daughter Sophia came home from the hospital together for the first time. While since then most of the basic baby-care skills have become second-nature, other aspects of nurturing a very young person are not so automatic.

For example, I don't think you can fully appreciate the ravenousness of a fussy two-week old child until you've seen it yourself, and even then it's somewhat difficult to believe. Such fits of hunger seem to occur only during the most awkward times of the night -- oftentimes a few minutes after papa has finally fallen asleep, having successfully put young daughter to sleep and somehow convinced otherwise perfect and beautiful mama to move into a position that at least muffles the snoring, if not drowns it out entirely.

My first reaction to such a burning desire for sustenance on the part of my tiny angelic child is to perhaps consider what exactly is causing all this fussiness. If mama is still asleep, I hope the issue can be resolved by a little bit of rocking or snuggling, as babies do not like to feel as though they are abandoned. So I take Sophia out of her bassinet and lay her on my chest; we sit in a rocking chair, and I slowly caress her face and hold her tiny hands. Sometimes I sing her a song that she may or may not like (Conny has implied to me that the "Star Spangled Banner" is inappropriate, but honestly it's the only song of reasonable length to which I know all of the words) or I make one up. Or I just say her name to her over and over again. These methods rarely work -- the problem is almost always hunger.

It's kind of funny really, because when friends come by to see her, almost everyone falls in love with her. This is because she's absolutely adorable -- I'm totally in love with my little daughter as well, I'll fully admit that. But if there's a time when I begin to lose my patience, it's at 2 in the morning when she's screaming in my ear and simultaneously ripping the hairs out of my chest with her tiny but amazingly powerful fists, in a animalistic search for breastmilk with which I am unable to provide her.

It hurts the ears and the chest, but I still love her for it.

On parenting; Ode to Moms; Grass on Grass

Sophia and Papa enjoy a nap. I've added more photos online, and will continue to do so. The newest pictures are at the bottom of the list.

I've only been a dad for three days now, and while I enjoy it far more than I ever thought I would, I must say it can also be pretty tiring at times. Sophia doesn't really like to do anything other than sleep and eat right now, and even the latter part of that combination is given a rather secondary importance in her young mind -- this despite the fact that she's a good bit smaller than other babies her age. But she's helped us to realize the driving force behind a few basic human experiences -- why moms all over the world always worry about whether your coat is warm enough clothes or if you're eating enough, for example.

Practically speaking, we're also learning some little tricks to get Sophie to drink all of her milk, to burp on cue, to help us change her clothes, and to let us change her diaper. I'm sure it sounds easy enough, but imagine what it must feel like to be so drowsy that you keep falling asleep while eating dinner. Surround yourself by giants and poop your pants, and then you might have some small notion of what it feels like to be my daughter these days. She's still tuckered from the birth, and frankly, I'm pretty dopey myself when I finally come home from the hospital (although I know you are all clicking away desperately on your browser's bookmark to my blog, waiting for the next update, so I stay up anyway and write.)

Pooped as I may be at the end of the day (fortunately for me I mean it in the figurative sense here), I must say I have a new found respect for Conny and for all mothers out there. Although I have to worry about the things I mentioned above, she has a much heavier load. Not only is she still a little sore from the birth, she is the most important source for Sophia's nutrition. Sophie doesn't always want to suckle directly, so we have to hook Mama up to this hydraulic breast pump so that we can give her more from a bottle. According to Conny: the pump works "exactly the way it looks," and if you ask me, it looks like some kind of cross between a science fiction gizmo and a Guantanamo Bay torture device. But still, she has to pump about eight times a day and doesn't really complain about it -- even though I can't keep a straight face when she switches it on.

Furthermore, she has to wake up twice in the middle of the night to pump and to feed Sophie as well, so she hasn't really slept a full night since before she gave birth. So next time you think about sneering at the woman breastfeeding at the park or at the playground, well, don't sneer. Your mom went through a lot, not only to bring you into this world, but also to keep you alive when you were so young and helpless you didn't care if your pants were soiled or not. Moms are amazing people.

Interesting Grass article: One of the few non-baby things I've done since Sophie was born was to read my latest New Yorker, which has a very interesting "Personal History" article by the Nobel Prize-winning author Günter Grass. He recently acknowledged having enlisted in the Waffen SS as a teenager during World War II -- controversial because he had been highly critical of some Germans who made the same or similar decisions -- and this autobiographical article explores his memories of that time and tries to come to conclusions about why he made the choices he made. It's the first time I've seen this account translated into English, and it's very interesting reading for anyone who is interested in that time period or in Grass. And if you haven't read The Tin Drum or at least seen the movie, well, go check it out.

Meet Sophia

Sophia Charlotte, the newest member of the Saunders clan. She was born this morning at 8:40 and weighed 2355 grams (five pounds and three ounces.)

Maybe it's a cliché that the day your child is born is the best day in your life. Regardless, it is a pretty impressive experience, one that I've always heard runs the full gamut of emotions. And now that I've experienced it in my own right, I would certainly concur. They also say that you can already get to know your child immediately. I'd have to agree with that one as well. Here are a couple of interesting things that I think I might have already discovered about my daughter on the first day:

Sophie does not like to wait around. Perhaps it's the German half of her that appreciates Pünktlichkeit, or perhaps it comes from her American grandparents, who always like to get where they're going before they need to be there. Regardless, if Sophie's willingness to leave the womb -- she took only two hours after serious contractions set in -- is any indication of the way she intends to conduct her personal affairs, I would recommend that you all show up at the appointed time when you come to meet her.

Sophie likes to nap. Although she was a little fussy for a couple of hours after she left her mother's womb, she quickly proceeded to take a long afternoon nap, giving her mom and chance to doze off and her dad the chance to snap off a bunch of pictures.

Sophie does not like cold objects. She would much rather snuggle under a blanket or a freshly washed towel than, say, have her diaper changed, even though it's almost 90 degrees Fahrenheit outside. She also enjoys wearing stylish hats.

I'm sure Conny and I will learn much more about her in the coming days... thanks again for all of your calls and messages. Everyone's doing well. We're hoping to bring Sophie home on Friday after she undergoes another routine check-up.

No baby yet

Our baby's identity remains concealed for the time being, not entirely unlike the delicious filling one finds inside homemade Chinese dumplings (jiaozi).

Conny and I checked into the delivery room this morning, which was actually pretty laid back compared to what we'd seen on television. And considering the fact that we've already visited there a number of times, it's not like we're confused with where we need to go. We already know where the the nicest park benches are located in the courtyard and where you can go for a walk or buy an ice cream cone. The pre-birthing room we have is pretty nice -- a double bed and no rooming partners; I can stay the night there without problem.

The birth inducement in and of itself is painless -- Conny has to take some capsules that trigger all the right hormones every four hours or so, and then they hook her up to a cardiogram machine to make sure the baby is not reacting strangely to the medication. Conny's had two doses as of 6:00 p.m., and so far, everything has proceeded normally. If all goes well, the doctors anticipate "birthing worthy" contractions anytime within the next couple of days, although it can take longer.

For me personally, there isn't actually all that much to do. I left for a couple of hours just now to post this update and the make a few phone calls and eat some dinner. This afternoon for example, I took a nap and Conny and I played chess. (I won.) Business as usual.

Anyway, hopefully I'll be posting again here fairly soon with some baby pictures. Thanks for your phonecalls and text messages and whatnot. We'll get back to you all soon.

A German baby boom

Between my wife and my soon-to-be-born daughter, we now have an entire load of laundry consisting of various shades of pink.

Continuing in the vein of baby chat -- frankly beyond that, Chinese food and studying German, there isn't much else on my mind these days -- I'm amazed at the sheer numbers of babies one sees on the streets here in Berlin. This is certainly due in part to the fact that the weather has been generally dry and warm, prompting numerous mothers to take their little sprites out of the apartment and down to the lake, playground, or ice cream stand. But beyond that, there are several reasons you may or may not be aware of that have promoted a minor baby boom here in Germany. Did I mention our diapering table is on backorder?

Reason number one: As of Jan. 1 this year, the federal government now offers a generous compensation package for new mothers who want to take an "Elternjahr," -- a work pause of up to 12 months at approximately 2/3 of normal salary. It's a very good deal, and for well-paid women (although men are also eligible) it's an attractive arrangement. We're certainly happy to take advantage of it.

Reason number two: The German economy, plagued by unemployment and uncertainty ever since reunification, seems to be showing some signs of pep. Said unemployment rate, while lower but still absurdly high in many parts of the former east, is now reported at the relatively low rate of 9.1% nationwide, as opposed to 12.2% about a year and a half ago.

Reason number three: I once saw a German soccer fan sporting a scarf with the inscription (translated somewhat more politely) "soccer, sex, and alcohol." While most people -- at least those in the bar hopping crowd -- would probably tell you that the last two have something to do with each other, personally, I was never quite sure what, if any, connection existed between the first two. But being in Germany now, approximately a year after the world's greatest celebration of soccer came to this country, it sure does seem like there are a lot of two and three month old tots being whisked about in carriages.

Babies and such

Conny, most certainly not experiencing labor pains.

I'm always trying to maintain some sort of rhythm in my life, but frankly it's pretty difficult when you know that any minute your wife could go into labor. Not only are any long term plans on hold, I don't even feel safe going to the bar for a beer. You never know what could start happening in those two hours or so, and the last thing I want to do is show up at the hospital smelling like fermented hops, my wife wafting German-language criticisms at me in sync to the primeval pangs of impending motherhood.

A part of my anxiety comes from last night, when the midwife that conducts our birthing class gave us a very vivid interpretation of what the various stages of labor look and sound like. It involved a lot of heavy breathing, moaning, and what appeared to be representations of a great deal of pain and provoked furled eyebrows and a few open-mouthed stares from the several couples in attendance. The performance was indeed convincing and made me very thankful to be a man, but also certain that I don't want to have be coping with something even slightly resembling a hangover while fulfilling my Support Role... another reason I probably won't be visiting the bar anytime soon.

But beyond being slave to an obviously impending stroke of nature -- something that restricts how I use my freetime, but in the end, not something that bothers so much -- there are of course a lot of other things to take care of for our soon to be expanding household, many of which require the attention of a person who is medically permitted to lift items weighing more than 5 kilograms and who doesn't need to take regular naps. Only recently have Conny and I fully started to comprehend the practical implications of our child's arrival -- that she will soon be living with us and require a variety of services (to be rendered by ourselves) and baby care products (to be purchased with our money). It was therefore necessary to spend the entire day today cataloging the items that we already have and purchasing a few odds and ends that we hadn't yet acquired. We accomplished this in part at a store on Kurfurstendamm called Baby-Walz, which is I suppose something like Babies R Us but in European format, i.e., less tacky but more expensive.

There, where I was certainly one of the few adult males ever to have set foot, one could find quite a thorough assortment of baby items, from breast pumps (a technology I doubt I will ever fully appreciate) to rectal thermometers (ouch) to designer diaper pails. While I found the sheer economics of it all to be a bit overwhelming and displeasing, I must say when I came across a wee tot or lass in the course of the shopping day, it was quite pleasing to think that the wife and I will soon be nurturing our own small person, who hopefully will -- at some point, at least -- appreciate my wit, good looks, and 'blog' entries. In other wods, I think that in the end, as the cliché goes, I think it will all be worth it.

Big News from the Hospital!!!

Conny enjoys some ice cream after our historic afternoon.

I am most pleased to announce that Conny had quite a breakthrough at the hospital today, playing me to a stalemate in chess.

It is the first time she has not lost to me since we moved here to Berlin. We stopped counting how many times we have played a while ago, but we agreed that it is probably around two dozen games.

Conny (playing white) opened strongly, using two knights and a bishop to threaten my king's side and eventually won a rook. I attempted to counter with a gambit to her queen's side, but eventually had to settle for an exchange that allowed me superior position. Although I was able to advance a pawn, I couldn't keep her from doing the same and neither side could put together enough pieces at the end to force checkmate.

Our daughter-to-be remains firmly positioned in the womb.

Changes in the proverbial wind

Parading through Berlin during the "Karnival der Kulturen," Yemeni style. And of course it wouldn't be a parade without a good look at the back of some guy's head.

I feel as though I mention it a lot, but it sure seems like there's always a lot going on in Berlin, if not in my own personal life -- although this past week that certainly hasn't been the case for the latter either. As many of you probably know, my wife is camping out at the hospital for the time being. While this is rather irritating and inconvenient for her, the good news is that there is nothing particularly worrisome afoot. In other words, the perhaps over-cautious German doctors here just want a little more data pertaining to our unborn daughter, who happens to be a bit smaller than most fetuses her age. Presumably they will then combine this data to make a large chart, at which point I imagine that a few of them will look at it curiously before moving on to something more important.

And that's all fine and good, although at first it was something of a shock. It's the sort of treatment that normal people such as ourselves just won't get/can't afford in countries with more capitalistic health care systems (i.e. the United States). Whenever we've been able to get such treatment (routine ultrasounds, at-home visits from a midwife, and now overnight stays at the hospital), it's all been almost completely covered by our insurance with practically no paperwork for ourselves. It's the way health care everywhere ought to be, but because of all my prior experience in America, I keep expecting to get a bill, which apparently is not coming.

The only really bad part of all this is that my poor wife does not like to relax very much. Simply put, she is bored stupid at the hospital, despite the friendly staff there, the lovely courtyard and the multitude of books and DVDs I have delivered to her to keep her occupied. For those of you who know my wife, you probably recognize that she is very active and does not like to be penned up. She has even agreed to play me in chess three times now -- although out of respect I will not reveal the results of the matches. It is kind of sad in a way; I liken it to having a thoroughbred horse that you won't let run faster than a trot. That said, if it's good for our little unborn daughter for momma to sit around a bit, I think that maybe momma ought to take a chill pill. (Figuratively, not literally.)

Outside of the personal drama for me, the weekend here in Berlin has been more interesting than usual. Last night the finals of the German soccer federation cup were held here, which means that a of soccer-happy folks from Stuttgart and Nuremberg were in town to loudly support their respective teams. (Nuremberg ended up winning 3:2 in extra time, which is good because Stuttgart played like a bunch of thugs in the first half.) After walking back from the hospital, I watched the match on TV, while my wife and sent instant messages to each other.

Today after I spent some more time at the hospital with the wife (we played chess and went for a stroll in the courtyard), I made it over to Kreuzberg where the "Karnival der Kulturen" -- a festival celebrating Berlin's rich ethic diversity -- was underway. I met up with a few friends of mine from the Volkshochschule, and after we watched the last few floats of the big parade roll down Yorckstraße, we had a couple of drinks and checked out some of the different bands and dance troupes that were performing on various stages. Quite a nice time, although the weather could have been better -- it's been raining off and on all weekend.

I didn't get home until after midnight; thankfully tomorrow it's a day off -- Pfingsten. That's a Christian holiday that apparently has something to do with the "Holy Spirit" telling the various Apostles to spread the message of Christianity. Fortunately, I haven't seen much of that happening here since I moved to Berlin, although we're all quite happy to have the day off.

Birthing; Chinese Food; the ZMP; Chess

As I think I mentioned earlier, it's definitely Spring here now... leafy, sunny, occasionally a cool shower, but on the whole quite pleasant. I ride my bike where ever I need to go, and when I don't need to go anywhere, I feel like riding my bike some more. But because of the improved conditions outside, I must admit, as you might have noticed, that I haven't been dedicating much of my time to composing humorous little anecdotes for you to read (or not read, or at the very least not comment on.) So, I give will give you an overview -- let's call it a "roundup," that most popular journalistic genre -- of what I've been up to since returning from China.

Expanding my Vocabulary. On Monday nights now for the next several weeks, my wife and I will be going to the Westend Klinikum, where we huddle up with a few other pairs of soon-to-be parents for a strategy session related to the upcoming birthing process. I'm told this process can be quite stressful and even painful for women, and seeing as how I'm kind of a wimp, I'm glad I don't have to go through it personally, and that I'm relegated by nature to at the very most a "support role." Most of my male counterparts at these sessions seemed at least somewhat more involved than I am -- one of them sounded a bit obsessed with the biological process behind it all, as if he were considering making a documentary. Which is not to say that I'm not interested in it all, but I think I'm considerably less fascinated by the labor aspects of birth as opposed to the prospects of seeing my daughter, who has for the last several months been appropriately but elusively housed in my wife's belly.

Obsession with Chinese Food. When we were in China, Thomas and I ate with chopsticks three meals a day over 14 days. I'd been a big fan of Chinese cuisine for years, but lately it's been admittedly a bit of an obsession for me. But problematically, most good Chinese restaurants here in Berlin are a bit pricey, so I've taken to making my own. But part of the problem is that it can also be a little difficult to find the right ingredients in Berlin supermarkets -- I couldn't find cilantro even at our twice-weekly local vegetable market, where I mixed in with the price-savvy old ladies to get good quality bell peppers and carrots. All in all I used the wok 3 times this weekend.

German Put to the Test. I've been taking intensive German classes ever since I moved here in September (with some breaks, of course) and the day of reckoning approaches. At the end of June I'll take the Zentral Mittelstufe Prüfung -- also known as the ZMP by those of us in the know -- and if I get a good score I'll, well, put that on my resume and perhaps seriously try to get a money-paying job. The test isn't all that difficult, I don't think, so I expect to do well. There are four parts to it -- listening, reading, speaking and writing. Probably the most difficult is the writing portion, where you have to compose a letter or write a "letter to the editor" without the aid of a dictionary. That doesn't sound so bad -- I know a lot of German words at this point -- but I can never seem to remember a noun's proper gender (der, die or das) or which preposition goes with which verb. To prepare, I've been trying to write letters to friends in German, which Conny then corrects for me. I've also been reading the Berliner Morgenpost, which despite it's despicable Axel Springer (a huge German media conglomerate) ownership, has lots of interesting stories and a good design, which is of course very important to me. Yesterday there was an intriguing story about a gorilla at the Rotterdam zoo who escaped from his cage and proceeded to attack a group of zoo patrons. But interestingly enough, the ape's interest seemed to be provoked by a certain woman, who the newspaper described as his biggest fan -- she came to see the gorilla almost every day. But I digress...

Slave to the Chessmaster. I may have mentioned on this "blog" at some point, that the television programs here aren't quite up to snuff in comparison to their American counterparts. My wife has debated this fact with me somewhat, and I am willing to cede that in two genres -- crime series and nature documentaries -- German programs may have a slight edge. However, the sports, comedy, and film selections all leave something to desire here. Professional soccer, when it is broadcast on the television stations that we can afford, is generally very well produced, but because of licensing agreements we only get to watch one league match per week, and it's a second league match at that. So as a result, I've seen more Kaiserslautern and Rostock matches this past season than I care to comment upon; next season I will hopefully be heading to the stadium more regularly, perhaps after a few months with my little daughter in tow. In the meantime, I've taken to bending my mind against the Chessmaster a good bit -- Conny won't play me because she always loses. (To which I always say, you can't win if you don't play.) But if any of you would like to challenge me to an online match or perhaps here in one of Berlin's lovely cafes, I am always game.

Happy Birthday to Me

If you left you hat here last night, please claim it.

We may not be ideally equipped for parties here in the Seelingstrasse -- next year hopefully we'll have moved into a bigger apartment, if not one with a disco ball and revolving dance floor. But neither rainy weather nor an insufficient number of Hausschuhe could keep me from having a good time here last night. If you were able to come by, I hope you all had as much fun as I did, and many thanks for the food, gifts and company.

We promise to make the quiz a little easier next time.

Back in the Saddle?

It's Spring here, which means I thankfully don't have to look at the hairy guy across the street anymore.

It's been a while since I last sat here in front of my computer with the purpose of updating you on my daily activities here in Berlin. (If you weren't keeping up with my travels through China, well, I suppose you had something better to do.) And a lot has changed here in three weeks. For example, the trees outside our apartment windows are now sporting thick green leaves, which conveniently block our view of the building across the street where a fat, hairy guy likes to lean out his window without wearing his shirt. Our Hausmeister (the very flattering German word for janitor) has painted over various bits of street art that had appeared on our fine building's walls, some bits of which (an interesting depiction of what looked like a goat) I will miss, others I will not. And my dear wife took advantage of my time away to upgrade our bikes, adding a small cargo basket to hers and a new set of pedals to mine.

But beyond those changes, I now find myself slowly sliding back into The Routine, where in the afternoon I attend my German classes at the Volkshochschule five times a week, I do the corresponding homework at night, and then in the mornings before I attend class I worry a little bit about how I should be doing something more productive. Then I navigate to usatoday.com or cnn.com to read the latest news about Paris Hilton and Britney Spears -- there's always a link to some ridiculous story about one of the two, regardless of what else if happening in the world.

Frankly it's not an awful Routine -- it doesn't involve a commute of longer than 15 minutes, I like my classes, and the air here is usually pretty clean. And because my wife is intelligent and has a decent-paying job doing something she tolerably likes, the pressure on me to bring home the groceries is pretty negligible, assuming I do a load of laundry every now and then.

But still, we all long for some greater purpose in life, to achieve something remarkable and to thereby win recognition, be it in the form of fame, power, or financial compensation. I, too, my friends and acquaintances, am human; I wish to know that my German homework was correctly completed, to hear snippets from my writings recited in high school English classes on a par with Shakespeare and Orwell, to be paid a living by a certain publishing house to pursue the travels and adventures of my dreams. Is that so much to ask?

Well, I suppose so, particularly if I continue to insist on sitting around every other morning reading the latest Paris Hilton gossip...

The Thrill of Travel

My bag, almost packed.

I find it a bit disturbing that on the cusp of a journey that I've been dreaming about and hoping for years, I find myself distracted by a number of other issues. Namely, will I finally get some regular work when I return? (It would be nice.) Will my German language skills deteriorate? (Hopefully not.) Will my soon-to-arrive baby daughter have red hair? (Admittedly, some concerns are more important than others.)

Still, even though I've done a lot of travelling in the past several weeks and months, and even though China may not be as exotic a destination as it once was, I'm pretty sure that a bit of my anxiety stems from genuine nervousness about visiting a place where I don't speak the preferred language, am not particularly familiar with the culture, and can't hope to successfully order my own dinner without help or charades.

It's a bit scary, but it's also a most exhilarating feeling, one that compares to the first time I stepped off the plane in Europe in 1995. There are new people to meet, places to see, foods to sample and adventures to have.

At any rate, I'll try to keep you up to date with my trip through China on my other "blog", which I'll update when and if I get the chance. More from Berlin when I return...

Conditions in Portions of the Western World

In Holland, land of many bikes.

I've been travelling a lot since the last time I let all of you loyal "blog" readers in on the details of my life, which in part explains (but perhaps not excuses) the lack of updates. Now that I'm back in Berlin for at least a little while, I thought I'd share with you a few of my simple-minded impressions of the places I've visited over the past several weeks:

The latest in traffic engineering: In the Steiermark (Styria) at least, Austria seems to be well-groomed, neat and tidy. Flowers are organized into neat and tidy rows. There are many traffic circles, and at one point we drove through a traffic figure-eight, something I had never seen before and which I found to be a bit frightening. There are also many tunnels; one north of Graz went on for over 10 kilometers. Fortunately there seemed to be many emergency exits, so I did not become claustrophobic. The local cuisine prominently featured meats and dumplings, which never bothers me. We regrettably found that there isn't much to do in Klagenfurt on a Sunday afternoon, although we found ample parking and some tasty ice cream.

Where everything's small but the people are tall: Having previously had my fill of Amsterdam, my explorations in the Netherlands were confined primarily to the university town Groningen and the province of Drenthe. The many pubs of Groningen, while seemingly always open, do not really get crowded until 12:30 or 1:00 a.m. If you show up at 11:00 p.m., they will be practically empty. Memorable cuisine there can be had in great variety, from the meat-and-potatoes-based traditional Dutch dishes, to the Indonesian dishes influenced by the former colonies, to crepes-like egg pancakes, or to the cheap sandwiches and fried snacks one can acquire from vending machines after a late night at the pubs. Bikes. Bikes bikes bikes bikes bikes. There are so many bikes in Groningen, and I found myself rather confused by all of them as I tried to cross even very narrow streets. Indeed, space in Dutch cities is always a rare commodity. Still, I was surprised to find that in the more rural areas of Drenthe, there was actually far more space than one might expect. Near the towns of Zuidlaren and Schipborg (the hometown of my friend Laurens) there is beautiful and fairly expansive park space made up of fen, heath and dune, which is well-suited for bicycling. There are also plenty of the Netherlands staples: canals, windmills, and bike-trails.

Confessions of a Eurosnob: From Holland, I flew to my hometown of Columbus, Ohio. Maybe it's just that I really haven't been doing any serious work for the past several months, or because driving around in cars has become slightly foreign to me, but it seemed like everyone back in America was in such a damned hurry. They keep erecting new buildings and malls and building new roads, and everyone seems to be eager to drive their cars to these new places on these new roads, all the while keeping one eye on the price of gasoline and the other on the news crawler at the bottom of CNN or Fox News. Speaking of the news, I saw it from quite a different perspective this time -- or at least I thought I did. Being stuck in airports on a couple of different occasions, where "The Situation Room" with Wolf Blitzer seems to be perpetually on display, it was difficult not to notice how much time the cable news programs in America dedicate to soundbites, fluff-stories and self-promotion and how little effort is given toward substantial news reporting and explanation of the significance of more complex themes. I suppose that's just TV journalism to a degree. But then when reading one of the local papers near where my grandmother lives, I was shocked to read an editorial actually defending the antiquated method of presidential election in the United States. It saddened me to see the way many Americans seem to be indifferent to the fact that our country has lost so much standing in many other parts of the world, although I suppose I expected that as well. Nonetheless, the purpose of my visit was to see family, which I enjoyed.

Provoking the conservatives: In the middle of my visit to Ohio, I went for two days to San Antonio, my home of six years until last fall, to catch up with some friends and to see if the grass on my front lawn had survived. (It had.) Probably the intellectual highlight of that sidetrip came when my friend Edwin and I sat down at a local bar for a couple of beers to talk politics. It's something of legend that politics is a forbidden topic at bars -- or at least I thought it was a legend, until the barmaid told us that we ought to keep our voices down if we were going to insist on talking about the benefits of socialized medicine or federally-funded public schools. Of course neither of these concepts are popular in Texas, nor is the concept of gay marriage, which I brought up just to see what would happen. The grumbling but otherwise uninterested reaction was somewhat disappointing, actually -- we'd secretly hoped for some kind of shouting match to ensue -- but it made me wonder if such places are actually where opinions can be shaped and minds changed. There seem to be few forums for social activity in Texas (and in America on the whole) aside from the workplace and church, neither of which really constitute a grounds for positive progressive discussion.

Waffles, diamonds and Peter Paul Rubens: Anyway, after my short visit to Texas and another night with my parents in Columbus, I was headed back to Amsterdam's airport for a weekend with my wife. After landing, our destination was Antwerp, Belgium, a place that in my opinion has a lot going for it but perhaps hasn't quite figured out how to market itself. The city has long been an important center for the diamond trade, and near the train station there are dozens of jewelry shops, many of them run by orthodox Jews, which gave that part of town an interesting flair. Nearer the center of town along the right bank of the Schelde river we found a number of pleasant plazas, restaurants and cultural highlights. We ate and drank all of the obligatory Belgian consumables: waffles, fries, quiche, baguette, beer. And we saw perhaps two dozen paintings by Peter Paul Rubens, the Dutch Renaissance painter who spent most of his life there and is now perhaps the town's favorite son.

So that is what I've been up to. For now I'm back in Berlin, my wife is getting plump with child, the trees are thankfully turning green, and I'm about ready for parenthood. It's been nice seeing as much of the world as I can, generally living the high life before my daughter arrives in a couple of months and I have to get serious again.

Global Cold Remedies

A typical pose for me, as of recent.

There's a pretty reasonable chance that if you've run into me in the last six months, I've been dealing with some kind of sniffle; Indeed, I think that since I've moved here, I've gotten at least six head colds and one bizarre case of the flu. I've been so regularly sick in the past months, in fact, that I don't even bother much about it anymore. Despite the fact that my eyes were puffy and my nose was running yesterday morning, I still completed my homework and headed over to the Volkshochschule for my daily German class. I figure if I stayed home every time I had a little sniffle or headache or sneezing fit, I'd miss a quarter of the classes. Clearly I'm no hypochondriac.

Anyway, my dear classmates, all of them from different corners of the globe and the majority of them being women, have now taken notice of my seemingly chronic common cold, and as of Monday, started peppering me with suggestions for cold remedies from their homelands, most of which I have tried:

Spanish Remedy
Method: Grate fresh ginger, boil, pour through a sieve and add honey. Drink while hot.
Effect: I think it may have helped clear up my nasal passage a little, but it turned my stomach, almost immediately. I didn't vomit, but the stuff tastes really bad, and in the morning, the effects had already worn off. I was told that I didn't drink enough of it (a liter is the recommended dosage), but I don't know if I could have held down much more than the two cups or so I drank.

Macedonian Remedy
Method: Boil water. Squeeze the juices of a lemon into it. Add honey. Drink while hot.
Effect: Similar to Spanish method, but tastes much better.

Russian Remedy
Method: Acquire fresh raspberry jam. Consume several spoonfuls before going to bed, followed by numerous cups of hot tea, which should cause you to perspire.
Effect: Not yet tested, although I now have a jar of the jam sitting in my refrigerator.

German Remedy
Method: Purchase beer. Do not put it in the refrigerator or a cool place. Consume.
Effect: I must say I slept pretty well last night, although the beer was probably too cold. Still, I don't see how this varies from normal behavior, as Germans usually drink beer at room temperature. I still have a cold.

German Remedy #2
Method: Blow nose into tissue. Throw tissue away immediately without touching it again.
Effect: If your nose is running as much as mine is, you go through a lot of tissues and make a lot of trips to the trash can. Secondly, the reason for this was supposedly to stop from reinfecting myself over and over again with the same germs. I don't think that's really possible though; I expect others would not exactly benefit from reusing my tissues, but if I have a tissue in my pocket that I used to wipe my nose once, I think using that one a second time is better than, say, letting my nose drip onto my clothes or the desk or someplace worse.

Kyrgyzstani Remedy
Method: While still healthy, determine who is sick. If he or she sits next to you, get up and sit on the other side of the room. Apologize later as necessary.
Effect: I'm not sure whether or not this is a good preventative technique, but it certainly doesn't win you many points with the others in the room or with the sick person.

Kurdistani Remedy
Method: Boil an onion. Inhale fumes.
Effect: I haven't tried this one yet, but it's next on the list... Perhaps I will wear a garlic necklace as well to ward off vampires while I'm at it.

U-Bahn vs. bicycle

I've been trying to save a few extra Euros each week, mostly because that's just the right thing to do. The main target of my savings has been my use of Berlin's U-Bahn system, which, while being one of the most impressive public transportation networks in the world, is apparently overpriced. My wife and I long suspected this, but have not until this past month conclusively tested our theory.

Before February, I purchased a new monthly pass for 67 Euros shortly after the 1st of each month, which entitled me to unlimited transit, plus the chance to bring my wife (or another friend) along with me on the weekends and after 8:00 p.m weekdays. We had already agreed that it would be too costly to purchase two passes each month. However, for this past month, I decided I would bike or simply walk to the Volkshochschule everyday, which really isn't all that far. We even biked to our Chinese class on some evenings -- a good five miles across the city -- just to see if we could do it and save the money. Below is a listing of the individual fares that we felt compelled to use during the last thirty days, and I would emphasize that we always paid our fares when taking the public transit network. (Here it is very easy to ride for free, although the penalty if you get caught doing it is around 50 Euros.)

Berlin Public Transit Usage, February 2007:
February 6: The wife uses two 2.10 Euro fares to get to Chinese class and back. 4.20
February 13: The wife and I each use two fares to get to Chinese class and back. 8.40
February 15-19: The wife and I each use two fares to get to the airport and back. 8.40
February 27: The wife and I both use a fare to get back from Chinese class. 4.20
February 27: I must pay to transport my bike back from Chinese class as well. 1.40
Total for February: 26.60

While there are some incentives to buying a monthly or yearly pass -- convenience perhaps being at the top of the list -- saving money isn't one of them. Biking from place to place here, while rather annoying on rainy days, can be refreshing, and is environmentally friendly and fit.

I'll now return to my computer game...

Catching up on e-mail

I've been pretty busy lately pressuring President Bush regarding his Iraq policy.

I've been away from the computer a lot lately -- Rome, Denmark, the Volkshochschule, my couch -- and therefore haven't done a very good job of posting updates to this "blog," much less responding to the countless e-mails I've received in the past days. So to save a little time, I figure I'll kill two birds with one stone and take a minute and respond here to a few of the more important messages that have shown up in my Yahoo! account over the past couple of days:

--

To: Angie Beck
Re: Hey

Dear Angie,
Thank you so much for your offer of "low price Viagra pills, best sex ever." I very much appreciate your unsolicited advertisement, although I must decline for the time being. However, here from Berlin, I can offer you a very attractive selection of used subway tickets, also at a very "low price." Please comment if you're interested and we'll get together.

Toodles,
Nathan

--

To: Lyman Stanton
Re: Dating site for sex-addicts GX72

Dear Lyman,
I must say that the services you appear to be offering make my face turn a bit red, so I shall not repeat some of the words you've selected here on my "blog." However, that 90% of your members have already "hooked up using" your "system?" Wow, I must say that is a very high percentage, and that it is "100% free," well, I suppose that must be cheaper than, say, 99% free. I can't say I'm all that interested, although perhaps I ought to refer you to my friend Angie; she may have an offer that would catch your attention.

All the best with that,
Nathan

--

To: NHL
Re: You are invited to blog with other NHL fans!

Dear NHL,
Indeed, I haven't yet joined "NHL Connect, the official NHL forum, a free social networking service designed to bring together hockey fans across the globe." Perhaps I really should consider creating a "free profile" so that I can read "NHL player blogs" and join "Official Connect Groups for NHL 2K7, McFarlane Toys, NHL Center Ice and more."

Then again, I can't imagine what I might actually contribute to such "Official Connect Groups," since I don't know anything about NHL 2K7, McFarlane Toys, or NHL Center Ice. Do you have an "Official Connect Group" for Admirers of Waterfowl, Team Handball Enthusiasts, or Berlin Volkshochschule Students? Please get back to me ASAP.

Yours truly,
Fan

--

To: NHL Online Catalog
Re: The New Spring 2007 NHL Catalog is Now Available Online!

Dear NHL Online Catalog,
So many tempting offers, so little spare time and money. How interesting that you have "Jerseys, Hats, Sweatshirts, T-shirts, Collectibles, Gift Cards and more" available online. I shall immediately log into my "Official Connect Group" to inform others!

All the best,
Nathan

--

To: J.B. Poersch
Re: Democrats United

Dear J.B.,
Thank you so much for your very personal message regarding President Bush's proposed troop escalation in Iraq. It's good to know that "this weekend" my "pressure had an impact." However, I don't recall pressuring President Bush and his Republican buddies very hard about this issue over the weekend while eating delicious Italian food and touring ancient Roman ruins. But it's nice to know that I have such a great influence despite doing so little -- or should I say, nothing at all! I had no idea my brainwaves were so powerful. How about this week we overhaul social security, health care, and completely reconsider American foreign policy? Should be a snap.

Cheerio,
NATHAN

--

To: Gery Vachel
Re: We are experts in getting people laid XW14

Dear Gery,
Now Lyman, is that you again? You are such a goofball!

Nathan

Shopping for a new subway ticket

Using public transit in Berlin is affordable, convienient, better for the environment, and improves one's problem solving skills.

I'm a big fan of public transportation, because I don't think it should be my responsibility to pay for ownership and maintenance of a car. I also don't think it should be my obligation to pay for insurance to cover situations (such as the one that happened to my brother a couple of weeks ago in Ohio) where you're driving along happily in your ugly but paid for jalopy, when some guy who (illegally) hasn't bothered to pay for his own insurance just plows into you. Your car is wrecked, and you grudgingly get a pathetic little check from your insurance company (supposedly for the fair value of your car), which you have no choice but to hand back over to the auto industry, along with a good chunk of your savings and future earnings. If you're lucky, you'll pay off the new loan before the same thing happens again.

Here in Berlin a lot of people are of the same opinion. Most of the people who have a car here in the city spend inordinate amounts of time trying to find parking or worrying about vandalism. Because so few people drive, it seems like many of those who do feel a heightened sense of empowerment and privilege. It's kind of like living in a world where all the drivers are from a WASP suburb, have just turned sixteen and want to show their friends the new toy their parents just gave them. Such people drive as quickly as possible between red lights, stomping on the gas when the light turns green and slamming on the brakes at the next intersection.

Fortunately, over time a rather impressive network of subways, elevated trains, streetcars and buses developed. It's a better way to get around town, and when you factor in how long it takes you to find parking, also generally faster.

What makes no sense, however, is how difficult Germans like to make it to figure out what kind of ticket you should buy, which are nonetheless almost never checked by bus drivers or controlling agents. There's the Kurztrecke (short trip), Einzelfahrt (single ride), Tageskarte (day ticket), 7-Tage-Karte (7 day ticket), Monatskarte (month ticket), 10-Uhr Monatskarte (month ticket after 10 o'clock), and Jahreskarte (year ticket), as well as the Kleingruppenkarte (small group ticket.) For visitors (cleverly marketed in neudeutsch for people that nicht sprechen the language), there is the CityTourCard (available in 48 and 72 hour varieties), the CityTourCard premium, and the WelcomeCard (again, 48 or 72 hours). There are special tickets available for families (the FamilienPass), for some but not all students and for apprentices (Auszubildende/Schülerkarten) and the Fahrradzeitkarte for people with bikes. And of course there are specific rules for people with dogs. Usually you can take one dog of reasonable size with you, but sometimes your best canine friend must have a separate valid ticket depending on what kind of ticket you have and on the number of dog companions your pet has with him. And there's always the question of whether you qualify for some other kind of discount due to your age, employment status, or income level.

While all that is almost straightforward, there's also the question of which zones you would like to travel in: AB (central Berlin and the outskirts), BC (only the outskirts of the city and the surrounding part of Brandenburg), or ABC, this entire region. Tickets valid for single zones or for zones A and C together are not available, although I'm surprised no one has thought of that yet. If you know where you are and where you want to go, this can also be determined fairly easily.

But, like the German language itself, there are plenty of other strange rules and exceptions. For example, if you have a monthly ticket and you're travelling after 8:00 p.m. or on the weekends, you can take a friend and up to three children (ages six to 13) with you. But if you're travelling with just a single ride ticket or day ticket, you can't. Which makes me wonder: if I'm riding with a monthly ticket on a Saturday with my wife, are we allowed to have two dogs with us or just one? What exactly classifies as a dog? Is that all animals in the order carnivora, or just those that are domesticated? In that case, shouldn't I be allowed to bring other animals onto the subway -- a friendly duck, perhaps? I don't understand why dogs get a rubber stamp while other animals are left to ambiguity. That smacks of animal favoritism to me.

And what about bikes? Do tricycles require a supplementary ticket? What about unicycles? How about other pieces of transportation equipment, such as a kayak? That is not much bigger than a bicycle. For example, what ticket should I buy if it's after 8:00 on February 29th, I'm traveling from Charlottenburg to Wannsee with my wife, a kayak, a tricycle, and a St. Bernard, and I'm unemployed?

I suppose the chances are pretty slim that we'd be checked...

Watching the jocks

The true meaning of the Super Bowl was revealed to me at the Spandau Shopping Arcade last week.

It's pretty hard, regardless of where you are in the world, to get away from the marketing superfluousness and insult to athleticism that is the Super Bowl, or in other words, the final match of the National Football League season in America. While fortunately this year I'm no longer working in the sports department of a major American newspaper, and thereby won't be forced to propagate the alleged importance of this so-called sporting event yet further, I still unfortunately became aware of the circumstances of the match -- namely that the game is being held somewhere in Florida, that the Chicago Bears are playing against the Indianapolis Colts, and that for whatever reason, Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice has revealed that she favors the Colts. (Apparently not much going on concerning world affairs this weekend.)

Thank the maker that here in Europe, there are much more significant sporting events to watch, such as the team handball world championship, which earlier today in Köln pitted Germany against Poland. For those of you not particularly familiar with team handball -- which, from what I understand, counts as everyone from the United States -- it's a game that's best understood as water polo without the water. That said, it also features certain athletic and regulatory similarities to basketball, ice hockey and baseball.

I must admit that at times I caught myself getting excited. The Poles trailed the entire match and indeed eventually lost, even though the referees were French; I cannot think of a more binding theme for those two peoples other than an historical opposition to Germans. The result was somewhat disappointing for me, as I was backing Poland for this particular encounter. I did this mostly to irritate my wife, who was supporting her countrymen, but also partially because the German coach resembled a walrus in my opinion, which I found somewhat disturbing.

Overall, the main impression I got from this game was not good. The players -- each of whom, like their soccer playing counterparts, has a unique hairstyle -- must wear uniforms resembling those from Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story, which are unflattering to say the least. The field players flip the ball casually to one another when in possession of it, then violently thrust it at the opposing goal when they find the best opportunity. The goalkeepers' official uniforms most closely resemble sweatshirts, which, like five-year old ice hockey goalkeepers padded to the point of immobility by their overzealous mothers, seem to be mostly for protection. If I would have played it when I was in high school, I certainly would have been ridiculed or worse.

However, had I participated in the sporting events we watched in the morning -- the world championships for 2-man luge -- the butt-kicking I would have endured for participating in team handball would have seemed insignificant. Germans here love their winter sports, which is all fine and good. But I must say I'm somewhat shocked by this 2-man luge. The two athletes that participate in this high-speed sport must spend incredible amounts of time in -- how to put it without sounding like an ass? -- very close contact to one another. As the program progressed, I did not intend to mention that I considered this circumstance a bit uncommon and perhaps exceeding the same-sex personal proximity norms of many societies. But then when I realized the main sponsor for this event -- apparently a Swiss firm with the unfortunate initials "F," "A," and "G" -- had displayed their logo not only on the front of each competitor's jersey, but also all over the track and the podium, well, I had no choice but to mention it, because it was just too funny not to, and because I was practically rolling on the ground laughing already.

Still, I hope that does not make me insensitive, because I really do not like to laugh at the differences between peoples. And regardless, the athleticism with which those luge guys perform is ten times as impressive as what any single player in the Super Bowl will manage, regardless of who's playing or how many Roman numerals are involved.

Notes on my bathroom, part II; ATHF in Boston; Denmark

A group of common waterfowl, some of the coolest animals on the planet, explore the Lietzensee in Charlottenburg.

There's always a lot to write about here at luxurious Villa Charlottenburg, so I will use one of the most popular journalistic styles, the "roundup" (which I suppose suggests cattle, not duck imagery), in order to provide you with as much up to the minute reading material as I can.

Bathroom update. The vast majority of the comments I've gotten regarding my "blog" have been regarding the functionality -- or rather the dysfunctionality -- of our bathroom here in Seelingstr. 41. Thank you all very much for your deep concern. Fortunately, the shower's temperature fluctuation problem, which stemmed from our pre-unification era water-heater, is no more. Unfortunately, it has been replaced by yet another problem, in that said water-heater no longer produces hot water at all. Now, as regular readers of this blog know, I am not one to complain. No, no, I love life and all of its goofy little quirks, even the ones that make me boil my own hot water on the stove before going to shave or clean myself. (Today, for instance, I took a two kettle bath, using about a gallon of water.) But really, this is not all that bad -- compared to the hundreds of millions of people on our planet that don't have regular access to clean water of any temperature, I have nothing to complain about. Plus, it gives me a good idea of how much water I actually use when practicing my daily person hygiene, and furthermore, if there's any unused water left over, I can make tea. I am under the impression that the issue should be resolved in the coming days -- at which point I will probably revert to the hedonistic habits I practiced before the most recent crisis. So please discontinue sending me additional bottles of cologne or parcels of deodorant.

Issue 2: Terrorism Scare in Boston. You may or may not be familiar with the American cable television series Aqua Teen Hunger Force, a low-budget and somewhat flippant cartoon centering around the exploits of a bag of fries (Frylock), a milk shake (Master Shake), and a meatball (Meatwad). It is fairly distant from main-stream entertainment, but nonetheless clever and occasionally hilarious. Apparently, promoters for this show devised a set of advertisements using flashing signs powered by four Size-D batteries, intending them to resemble one of the show's characters with one of its fingers extended. I'm not sure how or why, but these advertisements were interpreted by some of the good -- but perhaps not so hip -- people in Massachusetts as a terrorism threat, temporarily shutting down Boston's commercial port and provoking statements from the state's governor and the city's mayor, who reminds me of Carl, the disgusting and consistently grumpy neighbor on ATHF, who is the butt of a good number of the jokes. This has to be one of the most ridiculous knee-jerk reactions since this whole terrorism paranoia started. If we really think the terrorists are going to conquer the free world by cobbling together a few light-bulbs with some extra batteries, I have to wonder why we're not investing more money in determining what's a legitimate threat and what isn't. At the very least, it's a brilliant bit of publicity for ATHF; I think I might go to amazon when I'm done writing this and order the latest season's box set.

Upcoming world explorations. As if the world weren't big enough already, it was recently brought to my attention that there are other countries aside from the United States and Germany. Correspondingly, about a month ago I decided to plan a visit to one of them, called Denmark, which lies some distance to the north of here, past Tegel, Neustrelitz and even Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. Past Rostock there is a large body of water called the Baltic Sea, and beyond that there are some islands. Several of these islands make up the nation of Denmark, as well as a thumb-shaped peninsula north of Kiel that apparently the Prussians decided was not all that enticing. Astonishingly, these people that dwell in Denmark -- I am told they are called Danes -- prefer to speak a language called Danish, which I only know as a tasty breakfast item. (Perhaps I am confusing this with bagels.) Fortunately, I am told that these so-called Danes also speak English -- probably better than I do -- and also possibly German, although they will probably not admit that to me publicly. (But of course I probably will not admit that I speak German to them either.) At anyrate, my exploration of this never-before-seen land will take place from Monday to Friday next week. So, for your edification as much as mine, may I suggest you visit my other "blog" during that time period -- although I may find the time to brag about myself again here before I leave.

Approximately a week later my wife and I will take a weekend trip to Rome, where I expect either to meet Russell Crowe or to participate in a chariot race, or perhaps both.

Learning about old stuff

Taking in 2,000 year old Greek art, with commentary from a snooty British lady.

One of the interesting features of living in a huge city like Berlin is having the opportunity to view various ancient artifacts such as those housed at the Pergamon Museum. It's called the Pergamon Museum because the signature piece for this place is an enormous altar from the ancient Greek city of Pergamon (modern day Bergama in Turkey). This structure dates from approximately 200 BC and, compared to most of the other items on display in the museum, isn't really all that old. In the years shortly after the turn of the 20th century, the Prussians apparently managed to make some smooth deals with the Ottoman Turks, who henceforth allowed a number of remarkable cultural and historical pieces to be moved from their lands to Berlin. The archaeologists attempted to reconstruct it all as it was on site, and the result is the museum. It perhaps wasn't the most culturally responsible thing to do, but I suppose there's no turning back now. And it does inspire, to a certain degree, a desire to visit the original excavation sites.

Anyway, like all museums of such significance, the self-guided tour provides the casual visitor with far more information than can be consumed in any one sitting. Moreover, I forgot to bring my notebook with me, and was therefore incapable of copying down some of the funnier translations of ancient inscriptions, some of which (in my brain, at least) sounded remarkably similar to the rhetoric used by a certain president of a large and powerful North American country. (I can't remember exactly what they were, but some were along the lines of "casting away of evil," "Do-er of deeds" and "may god X watch over our city and empire.")

May I also say that I take issue, to some degree, with the English language voice selected for the self-guided audio tour, i.e., the snooty British lady that talks to you through the headset that you carry around with you. The good folks at the museum always ask you what your choice of language is before handing you such a contraption; after the wife said "Englisch," I quickly amended the request -- only half jokingly -- to "Amerikanisch, eigentlich." Apparently I am not all that bright, because when I hear English being spoken at the sophistication level of which one hears on such a museum headset, and then I'm distracted with all these long vowel sounds, well, I just don't understand it all that well. Not only was I not entirely sure what a "frieze" was exactly, I also did not know until Saturday that one pronounces the 'e' at the end of that word (although an Internet search presents evidence to the contrary.)

Now, of course I am not one of these people who would suggest that everything be customized specifically to American tastes, or should I say lack thereof. I would take the snooty British over Tennessean twang any day. But still, it would be nice if they could pick a voice that we could all agree on -- a Canadian's, perhaps.

Warning: this entry contains poor writing

Birds, once again the fodder for a joke on my 'blog.'

After spending so much time in the past several days studying books that claim to help one produce enthralling writing, I'm pretty certain that the following post does not fall into that category. It is not particularly humorous, unique, or suspenseful, nor is it particularly well organized or carefully edited. It probably contains a number of clichès or worn-out phrases that, were I a truly creative person that really cared about the quality of his writing, I could probably work out and improve. I might even forget to use the spellcheck function so conveniently provided by the proprietors of this website. Should you choose to keep reading, well, I think that's tremendous. You must be very patient, because I cannot possibly imagine that you could be obsessed with the subject matter I select. Still, let this introductory paragraph serve as a warning not to take any ideas from my 'blog' and supplant them upon yours, as I'm afraid mine sets quite a poor example of what good writing should be -- and of course because I would also call my lawyer-friend about it.

A quick glance at my Swiss-made Tissot wristwatch with Titanium clasp reminds me that I haven't updated this 'blog' for a week now. As all of you know, I'm usually not one to just let the exciting day-to-day activities that comprise my life crumble away like so much stale bread to the birds -- although I do think feeding the birds is a good idea. So in the interest of complete transparency -- and, as usual, my own edification -- I now offer you a brief 'roundup' of the various excitements I have experienced since my previous post:

Jan. 18: A windy storm named "Kiryl" blew across Germany, damaging the newly built Hauptbahnhof, but more tragically, cancelling my session at the Volkshochschule. I spent the day watching television and reading about how to become a better writer.

Jan. 19: The Volkshochschule reopened, and I scrambled to finish the homework I should have had completed for Thursday but hadn't, because I would have looked really stupid not having completed the assignments that should have been done the day before. That night, we rented "House of the Flying Daggers," and I drank a glass of wine while admiring the director's exquisite use of color. The guy at the Kiez Video and DVD is a cheapskate that charges an extra Euro if you wait until the next day to return your movie, so I made a second trip there before heading to bed. (Apparently I am also a cheapskate, but I prefer the word "thrifty.")

Jan. 20: Saturday, Saturday... oh. I switched out all the music files on my computer to MP3 files (something I should have done a long time ago), which now allows me to take my entire music collection with me on my iPod, even though there are really only about 20 or so songs that I like at any given moment. At night we met with my German teacher for dinner, a reminder that I don't yet understand the language very well.

Jan. 21: The wife and I intended to see an afternoon movie, but when we got to our favorite cinema at Potsdammer Platz (what I consider to usually be one of the most tranquil places in Berlin) half of the place was roped off in anticipation of an appearance by the lead singer of the boy band "Tokio Hotel." There was a accompanying group of about 500 screaming teenage girls there, which gave me a headache. We bought tickets for an evening showing of "Babel," which was interesting, although now I don't think I'll be looking to take a bus tour of Morocco anytime soon.

Jan. 22: My Volkshochschule session was cancelled due to a scheduling conflict, which cleared the way for me to spend a bit more time making preparations for my upcoming trip to Denmark. For dinner I cooked a delicious pasta dish using garlic, pesto, yellow pepper, onions, and some good quality Italian cheese. I matched it with a nice glass of French red wine, and then proceeded to read my book and write in my journal.

Jan. 23: My Volkshochschule class was once again underway, and fortunately I had enough time to complete the assignments that I'd put off until that morning. In the evening I attended my first Chinese class. I found that to be interesting study material; the language is so much different from English or German or any other language I have studied. It is also much more fun to write the characters.

Jan. 24: I had my intermediate German grammar class again, the one where the women rule by a ratio of 12-to-1 or so. (The Greek guy showed up again, and apparently intends to keep coming back. I think he is single.) I felt generally clueless, although after getting my wife to help me with the next week's assignment after we ate dinner together, I felt somewhat better about it all. We retired, she managing to read nearly three pages of the Paul Theroux book I recommended to her before falling asleep, I reminiscing in my journal about a visit to Amsterdam several years ago.

So that is all; this morning we awoke to find snow on the ground outside and water of a comparable temperature in our shower. And like every other piece of bad writing, I shall end this entry abruptly.