There And Back

Well, we managed to slip in and out of Paris in between the weather delays that have befouled most travelers in the northern hemisphere-- 1 extra hour at the Nuremberg airport, and a minimal delay from Paris on our return flight is nothing compared with what a lot of folks are still going through. The photos are in the midst of getting uploaded and sweetened in post-production (hint: the skies weren't always that blue), and will be up for all to see in due time. It was a great trip-- I daresay, one of our best, and while we're happy to be back home, our love of Paris has only deepened. More to come.

Off To Paris; Joyeux Noël!

Depending on whether or not the weather-related congestion of European airports clears up, B and I will be off to lurvely Paris, France for Christmas in the morning. I know it sounds sexy and all, but remember that tickets from here to there cost the same as Phoenix to El Paso on Southwest. Yes, we've been to Paris before (this will be something like B's 6th time there), but when you have a favorite city so close and another year in the rearview mirror, this seems perfectly natural. Because we've seen all of the A-List touristy sights and had our fill of the high-end restaurants in our previous trips there, this vacation will be decidedly and blessedly low-key. We're staying in a residential apartment rental in the funky 10th Arrondissement (district or neighborhood to you and me), slightly off-the-beaten path for yer average tourist, but a real up-and-coming area with a lot of energy and great vibe. But the plan is to have no fixed plans when we get there-- maybe hit a few secondary sights if the mood strikes; check out some of the next wave of (comparatively) affordable dining that's the new hot thing, but mostly... walk, explore, and relax in one of the world's greatest cities.

We thank all of our regular visitors, subscribers and commenters for stopping by the blog this year, and we wish you a happy and joyous holiday season. Au revoir!

Marketing 101: Know When To Nod And Smile--Christmas Pickle Edition

I honestly didn't know about the Christmas Pickle until we moved here, and I'm a big fan of Christmas.

In what may be a regional phenomenon, it seems like a lot of folks from the USA know about the pickle ornament, know its significance and possibly even the legend behind it. For those who are not aware, the pickle ornament (or sometimes even a real pickle) is hung last, in a remote location on your Christmas tree, and after the children have gone to bed. Come Christmas morning, the lucky youngster who first spots the pickle gets an extra present. There are several origin stories out there, the most popular being that a man of German extraction (usually identified as Bavarian) fighting in the American Civil War was starving in prison on/around Christmastime. A sympathetic guard scrounged up a pickle for the soldier, and it gave him the strength to persevere. The story continues that later, the soldier wrote back home and told this story to his family, who celebrated his recovery by hanging pickles on their Christmas tree, and thus began a cherished German tradition.

As tends to be the case with a lot of cool tales of this ilk, it also appears to be complete hogwash. There is no such thing as a German Christmas Pickle, and everybody I've asked either has no idea what I'm talking about, or rolls their eyes, tries to set the record straight and calls it an American thing. As we can see here and here (among many other places), it simply does not hold water, and the facts really don't support it-- for a start, German gift giving traditionally (certainly during the time of the Civil War) took place on December 6, the day of St. Nikolaus, and even today Germans open their gifts on Christmas Eve.

However-- and this may be where things get mashed up-- Germany has a fine and long tradition of glass blowing, and German Christmas ornaments are still considered to be the best. German ornament companies may or may not have had something to do with fostering this legend, but it's safe to say that they are doing banner business by keeping it going. So when Yankees go to noted German Christmas stores like the famous Kathe Wohlfahrt and ask them about the pickle... the store clerks certainly and wisely won't disabuse you of the notion that it's, ahem, an Old German Tradition. As for us, we first heard of this curious custom when we arrived here, so we will forever associate Christmas pickles ("Weihnachtsgurke") with Germany, and one will be hanging from our tree from here on in. Sort of our own German tradition, actually.

My Dear Germans: These are Called "Gloves." You Put Them On Your Hands.

Today's high was 23 degrees Fahrenheit with a wind chill that made it feel in the teens. It was a cold one indeed, and the weatherman says it's going to get colder. But I've observed that a good portion of the local citizenry-- at least one-third of all the adults I see on the streets-- don't wear gloves. Ever. I really don't get it. Maybe it's a Nuremberg thing (remember, we've been told it never snows in Nuremberg, all evidence and meteorological records to the contrary), or maybe it's my neighborhood, but this is some far-out behavior. Even the school kids don't always wear gloves-- like the grown-ups in my 'hood, they either jam their bare hands into pockets or retract them into their sleeves. I could make some snarky guesses as to why that is, from gloves' unusual translated name (Handschuhe, literally "hand-shoes") or that it impedes your cigarette habit, but I'm at a loss.

Winter Wonderland

A whopping 10 inches of snow descended overnight, and B took these great shots as I huddled at home nursing a low-grade flu. Sadly, we are in the midst of a temperature inversion, so all of this will be gone by tomorrow as temps will hit the high 30's. More snow and ice to follow next week, but I doubt it will be this fluffy or this pretty.

Q: When Is A Guy In A Red Suit And White Beard Not Santa? A: When You Live Here.

It's December 6th, the day German kids celebrate Nikolaus. It's important to stress that Sankt Nikolaus (Saint Nicholas, pictured) is in no way related to that jolly ol' soul generations know and love as Santa Claus... except that he kind-of is. Quite confusing, but then again, I still scratch my head as to why I have to sign things in triplicate to purchase a light fixture here.

Santa, that guy from all those cool TV shows when we were growing up (Burgermeister Meisterburger anyone? Heatmiser? Hello?), is known here as Weihnachtsmann, literally "Christmas Man," but routinely corrupted into the British term of "Father Christmas." Well, he and his stinking commercialized holiday happen on the 25th of December. The fact that Santa wears a red suit and has a white beard like Sankt Nikolaus is merely (cough cough) a coincidence. The name and date of the Nikolaus holiday comes from Nicholas of Myra, a Greek Christian bishop who died on December 6, 346 A.D. Nicholas of Myra was known for miracles, and for giving gifts to children. Just to muddy the waters, Nicholas of Myra is also identified with Santa Claus. But because Germans have some sort of inherent compulsion to make things way the hell more complicated than they need to be, beliefs and traditions about Nikolaus were probably combined with German mythology, particularly regarding stories about the bearded pagan god Odin, who also had a beard and a bag to capture naughty children.

More religiously oriented German parents encourage their children to leave out their shoes or boots for Nikolaus the night of the 5th; more accurately only one polished shoe, because (a.) two shoes makes you look greedy and (b.) polishing your kicks means you've been a good little boy or girl. Nik will come on his horse or donkey (the legend differs) sometime around midnight on the 5th and leave small gifts (coins, toys, sweets) in the boot just as the real Nicholas of Myra did back in the day. As for the naughty kids, would you believe that some family traditions have it that a switch (a tree branch or rod) is left in the boot, ostensibly for spankings, to tell the child that they don't deserve treats. Even more way out, in other families, a man disguised as St. Nicholas will visit the family or the child’s school alone or with his with his sinister-looking alter ego Knecht Ruprecht ("Farmhand Rupert" or "Servant Rupert," I'm not making this up) to question the children about their behavior. Children were often quite frightened of being questioned about their behavior because they’ve been told that Nikolaus will hurt them with his rod or even put them in a sack and take them away. Though the custom is in decline, in more Catholic regions, parents inform a local priest of naughty behavior. The priest then pays a personal visit wearing the traditional Christian garb to threaten the little rugrats with a beating. That couldn't possibly mess with impressionable young minds, could it?

So, to recap, in more religious households, there is the Nikolaus holiday which is the primary gift giving occasion, as well as Christmas (Weihnachten) itself, which is a celebration of Jesus' birth. Everybody clear? Good, because now I want to play my favorite video from my favorite Christmas Special-- Hermey The Elf (from Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer, duh) is The Man, but his theme song ("I'm Just A Misfit") doesn't quite rock the house like this one does-- man, I spent half my college days with the following hairdo:



Frohen Nikolaus everybody!

Baby It's Cold Outside

That's a photo of the teeny bird bath on our front porch holding the latest batch of snow. As with a lot of the northern hemisphere, Europe is getting hit with a nasty cold snap at the moment, and relief won't be until next week (even then it'll be brief). Today's high in Nuremberg was 21 degrees Fahrenheit; right now it's 10F as I'm typing this. The snow is set to return on Sunday. Brrr.

Really Germany, This Doesn't Do You Any Favors (NSFW)

Judging by the traffic stats that the Blogger platform provides to me, the series of entries my friends came to call "German Perv Week" really set my hit counter going. So while I won't pander for visitors in principle, I can't actually go on record and say I'm above it either. That being said, this post may set the record.

In response to World AIDS Day, a German organization has devised an online video game that allows men to use their, er, units, to “cock out” the deadly disease in a boxing match using a high-tech condom and a webcam. I'm not making this up.

The idea is to raise awareness amongst younger men about condom use and AIDS through the medium of video games, ubiquitous with this demographic. So OK, I can see the logic in that, but dropping trou, putting some sort of foil thing on your schwanz and cavorting around in front of your computer's webcam seems so... German. This bit brings the term "joystick" to a different level of meaning, and furthers German's reputation as a bunch of deves.

The Cock Out website is here (sorry, German language only), and you can get the basic idea. The high-tech wrapper for your winkie (the things I look up to make for complete entries, I tell ya) costs 3 Euros, about $3.96 at today's exchange rate.

Finally, a prime example of the European TV commercial arts, the advert for this campaign and the video game. The lewdness is more hinted at than shown, but to keep your job intact it's probably best to view this from the comfort of your home or TwitterBerry-- there's plenty of ass cheek flashing. Have at it.

Old Window Sign

Taken on my way to a friend's art gallery show. The building attached to this doorway currently comprises doctor's offices on the lower level and upscale apartments above. So this sign must be from long ago. Translated, this was a factory (Fabrik) for brushes (Pinsel). My first attempt at black-and-white (via photo fixing); hope you like it.

A Stink Bomb And A Recommendation

B is back and currently fighting some bug she picked up in China-- I swear, that country is one big petri dish; every time she heads over there, she comes back worse for wear.

My second-to-final entry from the Cinematic Titanic film fest I threw is the craptacular Ishtar (1987). Of all the films I picked to see this past week, I was most suspicious about this one. In fact, the only thing that made me pull the trigger and watch it was the rumor that writer-director and noted film geek Quentin Tarantino actually owns one of the original projectionist reels (the kind shipped to theaters) of this film, and is a big fan. OK then, how bad could this be if Tarantino shows this to his friends? Answer: Indescribably bad. At least Heaven's Gate, for all its flaws, can be seen as the passion project of a visionary director and screenwriter. Ishtar on the other hand is just plain miserable. The attempt to make a wacky Hope-and-Crosby style "Road" picture about the 2 worst singer-songwriters in the world (Dustin Hoffman, miscast as the ladies' man and Warren Beatty as a complete dolt who doesn't get the girls) getting mixed up in Mideast politics fails on its most basic level: It simply is not funny. At all. For a comedy, that's all that matters. Throw in a blank check budget ($51M in 1987-- that's $95M in today's dollars) and an indecisive perfectionist writer/director trying to rein in some of the most mule-headed stars in the business and that spells disaster. If you have 15 minutes to spare, there is this wonderfully written piece in Vanity Fair about the making of Ishtar that is well worth your time, even you have no intention of seeing the film but want an insight as to how Hollywood works.

On a whim and a half-remembered 3-year old rave review, I did manage to find a small delight in a little-known movie called The Grand. If you are a fan of the "Mockumentary" style of movies like This is Spinal Tap, Best In Show or Waiting For Guffman, then this is for you. A lot of well-known comic actors (Woody Harrelson, David Cross, Ray Romano, Chris Parnell and many more) are in this tale of a fictional $10 Million dollar poker tournament, and it's definitely worth seeking out-- I don't even play poker (ask anyone I've lost money to), and don't know the terminology but I was pleasantly surprised with this little gem of a film that rewards repeated viewings. This was an excellent way to end my off kilter movie week, and almost singlehandedly washed the stench of Ishtar away. Almost.

Turkey Week

Continuing from last week's Wired, I'm trying to watch a feature film nightly. Again, these are films that have caught my interest for one reason or another, be it from the story, actors, director, or a recommendation. I've seen some solid films, some criminally underrated titles, a few that were as dopey as I'd imagined, and some titles that didn't make it into wide release, but are absolutely well worth watching. But really, this exercise was to watch those rubbernecker films; those unqualified disasters that bring Hollywood to its knees once in a while, and whose titles live on as shorthand for "bad movie," long after the film has been forgotten.

Into the breach, I finally cleared a full afternoon and watched Heaven's Gate (1980), arguably one of Tinseltown's most notorious failures, a film whose lessons singlehandedly changed how movies are made, ended the burgeoning "auteur" movement, killed the western as a genre, and bankrupted a major studio. In reality, I knew more about the legends surrounding the movie itself than I did about the plot, so I bit the bullet, and watched it-- all 3 hours and 29 minutes of it.

Director Michael Cimino was coming off the success and acclaim of The Deer Hunter and was itching to make his script about the little-known Johnson County Wars in 1890's Wyoming. United Artists bankrolled him for $7.5 million dollars ($19.3M in today's dollars), about average for the time. The finished product ended up well past schedule (it was written that by day 6 of shooting, they were already 5 days behind), and cost the studio an unheard of $40 million (almost $103M today). More than a million feet of raw film was shot, and the original length edit given to the studio bosses came in at over 5 hours-- the battle scenes alone allegedly ran for well over 90 minutes. When it was trimmed down to its current 209 minute (3 hours 29 minute) length, the critics savaged it, and the public stayed away. Cimino then re-edited the film further down to "only" 149 minutes but by then the damage was done. Heaven's Gate grossed less than $3.9M in the States upon its release, by far the biggest money loser to date in Hollywood history. The fallout was immediate and predictable: Transamerica Corporation sold off its interest in United Artists Pictures, closing it down. For film buffs, this also signaled the end of a heady time, the Director-driven picture. This was how the giants made their bones-- Scorsese, Coppola, Lucas, Spielberg-- all flourished during this time of calculated risk-taking, and big payoffs for the studio's support (compare that to today, where there exist 6!! Beethoven the Saint Bernard movies). Michael Cimino's reputation never recovered and he has directed only 4 movies in the intervening 30 years.

Over the years, a bit of a cult has formed around Heaven's Gate, and modern day critics have not been nearly as nasty-- it seems that all the contemporary accounts at the time of the 1980 release were obsessed with the budget, and the stories about Cimino's perfectionism (50 takes for a single scene was not uncommon, and I've even read accounts where he held up shooting for hours just because he was waiting for a certain far away cloud formation to come into the frame). In fact most modern day critics reviewing the DVD releases actually have put this in a good light. So I decided to roll the dice and check it out. In the end, it came off as a sloppy and unfocused mess some of the time, but had moments of genuine brilliance. And as far as that bloated budget, every single penny was there on the screen. The look of the film is gorgeous-- every frame looks like a postcard. But... hanging two thin storylines (the real life story of the powerful and connected cattleman's association hiring killers to remove the immigrant population from Johnson County with the tacit support of the Wyoming Governor and President of the US is mixed with the tale of the local sheriff and one of the hired killers competing for the affections of the local bordello madam) in the space of an epic-length film is a lot to ask. But overall, I liked it, and I don't feel like I wasted my time at all. Worst film of all time? Hardly. Misunderstood, flawed masterpiece? Not quite. Cimino had a lot of huevos to bully the studios into acquiescing to his every whim, and there was little market for a bleak "anti-western" with no discernible good guy and a surprising amount of bloodshed. But it does stand as a unique film, and I'm glad I finally watched it.

I Can Do Anything, I Just Need A Coffee

Here's a bit of nostalgia for everybody, 2 back-to-back commercials from the National Coffee Association circa 1984:



Yes indeedy, I can cut hit records, avoid a safety blitz and learn how to slap a guy without actually hitting him through the magic power of coffee. Inadvertent comedy comes at the :30 mark, with the voice-over talking about the "New American society," while the video shows Englishman David Bowie, and the uncomfortably long (roughly from :08 through :23, an eternity in a 30-second commercial) shot of the band Heart "in the studio." Yeah, I'm sure that's just coffee they're drinking too.

I do recall these commercials, and if you actually believe it they were made specifically because coffee was rapidly losing its already minuscule market share of teens and 20-somethings in the mid 1980's to things like soda, and the coffee growers were desperate to hip up this drink, long associated with lousy Maxwell House and instant crystals ("just add hot water"), served in greasy spoon diners to truck drivers. For a bit of perspective, the first Starbucks as we know it did not appear until 1987 in Seattle, and had "only" 165 locations in 1992 (it's over 17,000 locations in 50 or so countries now). To say that the drink has come back from the brink is a bit of an understatement. Looking back, I doubt that these commercials did much though. I don't think many people trundled down to the store and bought a can of Chock Full O' Nuts just because Kurt Vonnegut was hailed as a member of the "movers and shakers."

Scratch That Itch Movie Theater

With B off to tropic locales (seriously, it was 88 degrees Fahrenheit when she switched planes on Sunday; the weatherman is talking about snow here within the week), I'm letting my rubbernecker curiosity run free by checking out a number of films that always held a fascination with me, sort-of looked interesting, or were notorious in their day. Thanks to the wonders of quasi-legal movie sharing sites that are proliferating on the web these days, I've found that most of these films-- even the hard to find ones-- are out there.

While I'd just as soon not talk about this weekend's cinema oddity Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles (review: amiable enough family film, but totally empty calories), last night's movie was Wired (1989), an itch I had to scratch. The story behind this biopic of the rise and fall of legendary comic actor John Belushi makes for a better tale than the film itself: The Bob Woodward book this film was (very loosely) based on named a lot of names (I did not know that both Robin Williams and Robert DeNiro hung out and did drugs with Belushi the night he died), and laid fault squarely at the feet of the studios and entertainment industrial complex that kept its stars both supplied & heavily medicated and largely protected from any blowback. When this movie was coming into being, a lot of Hollywood power brokers (Michael Ovitz, known as the most powerful man in Hollywood, for one) called in their favors and let it be known far and wide that anyone associated with this film would be essentially blackballed for life. So no major studios touched it; no major actors, directors or writers came near it, and the script was so heavily revised as to steer clear of the multiple threatened lawsuits that major persons in this story were rolled into watered-down unnamed "composite characters." So what we have is an extremely tame, made-for-TV movie-feeling film that relied on an awkward framing device (dead Belushi wakes up in the morgue and is driven around key events in his life in a cab driven by his guardian angel), paralleling the other narrative of Bob Woodward doing an investigation of the cause of Belushi's death. Could have been decent and edgy, but it was pretty toothless. To his credit, actor Michael Chiklis (who had exactly 2 TV show episodes to his resume) did a great job playing Belushi-- that's him singing on the soundtrack CD!-- given the constraints he had. True to the threats, a lot of people in this film had difficulties working in showbiz after-- for example, the screenwriter never wrote another movie, and the director helmed only one more feature film (which went straight to video). Indeed, the distribution of this movie was so poor that it only played in half the theaters of a normal release, guaranteeing (along with the savage reviews) a bomb. To this day, Wired has never been released on DVD. Thanks to his persistence and talent, Michael Chiklis has found steady work however, first as the star of TV's The Commish, then as anti-hero Vic Mackey in the late, great The Shield. He was the best thing in an otherwise disappointing picture.

A Letter From China

B has been in China for the last few days and has taken time out of her impossibly busy schedule to write a few impressions. Take it away!
_____________

B here, blogging to you from the south of China. As G mentioned earlier, the reason we are in Germany in the first place is because of my company. And because of my job I travel to Asia at least twice a year. Not to lovely places like this, but to places like Qing Yuan, China. There are worse places to be sure. I'm just glad I like my team and that we travel well together because there is not much to do while here except work long hours and hang out in the hotel bar at night. Today my brain is a little on the fritz and it's only day 2. It feels like it's been a week already. A normal day will have the team picked up early at the hotel and brought directly to the factory where we set up shop. The work rooms are set up with pullovers, samples, shell patterns and we all sit around a table with computers and all our work gear. It's crowded and it's rare for me as a Product Developer to sit for very long at my computer. Normally I'm running around talking to Factory Developers, Tooling and Pattern room people answering all sorts of questions both hard and easy. Later this afternoon I'll be heading into the production line to review a really complicated item I developed. Specifically, I'm told I need to see how complicated the process is. Seeing how this is made always gives me a good appreciation for the workmanship that goes into it and in the end helps me to do my job better.

Empty House And A Guest Blogger

B is off to Asia today-- China to be precise-- and will be there for almost 2 full weeks. You see, the reason we're in Deutschland in the first place is due to B's job for a Well Known German Company, and because manufacturing operations for the Company are in Asia she goes there a couple times a year. So while I joke about a pizza and beer fest around the house (in reality, it's more like a Döner kebab-- think Middle Eastern burritos and you're on the right track-- pizza and beer fest), I'll be keeping busy.

Due to highly restricted access to the internets in China, it's not a certainty but B will attempt to send a few blog posts from there herself with her take on things. She'll be far away from the glamor and hubbub of major Chinese cities like Hong Kong and Beijing, and in the massive city of Qing Yuan (population 4 million), whose sole purpose seems to be manufacturing. We'll see about the ease and frequency of her posts-- it's not like she has a lot of downtime, and as I mentioned, internet usage is highly controlled and restricted. Stay tuned (hopefully!) for Chinese impressions and photos.

Lots O' Stuff

Let's see, a bunch of things happening today:

Veteran's Day in the States today: To all my relatives who served in the armed forces: Thank you, and bravo. You'll never get enough thanks or praise for what you did.

Karneval (or Carnival) begins in Cologne, Germany at 11:11 PM.

Saint Martin's Day, a Catholic holiday primarily geared towards children also happens today in Germany-- a celebration of St. Martin of Tours, a former Roman soldier who became a monk (image above comes from the story of St. Martin who as a soldier cut his cloak in half to give to a freezing beggar). Children walk the streets with paper lanterns and sing songs this evening.

Armistice Day (also known as Remembrance Day), which actually ties into St. Martin's Day and Veteran's Day is celebrated in much of Europe. It commemorates the armistice signed between the Allies and Germany to end World War I.

Happy November 11th, wherever you are.

Two Things That Are Easier To Find Than A Good German Red Wine

I've said it before: I'm not a wine snob-- while we like wine a lot and one day aspire to be snobs, we don't have the palate, patience or wallet to pull it off. But I know what I like. As I sit here sipping my heretofore unknown Colle Moresco wine from the Italian island of Sardinia which I purchased at my local metzgerei (butcher's shop) of all places for a cheap €6.69 (about $9.25), it goes to underscore a couple of basic truths about European wine drinking: (1.) You can buy quality daily drinkers for astonishingly cheap, and (2.) German red wines are pretty lousy.

While I have always relied on the steady hand and good advice of my wine guy in Portland who counseled "If it tastes good, drink it," we found that a decent daily drinker/ spaghetti red in the States would generally start around $10.00, (+/- $2.00) and go upwards from there. But here in Europe the playing field has changed, and we need to rethink everything. B found a great summer Rosé for €2.99 (?!) at the local grocery store, and now we're back to checking out wines that are €8 and below as our daily drinkers. Obviously, part of this has to do with location-- when Italy and France are just a couple hours' drive away, transport costs are significantly lower, as are the number of middlemen between the grower and the consumer. Chalk one up for the good guys.

Germany is known for its white wines, and its star grape is Riesling. German Reds on the other hand are pretty hard to find outside of the country, and for good reason: they are simply not that good, and what you can find here is actually pretty pricey. The big dog has to be the grape known as Spätburgunder here (aka Pinot Noir), which makes for almost 12% of all grapes planted in the country (Riesling accounts for 20%). Pinot is known as a fairly fickle wine to grow (I know this because I saw Sideways, and not from personal experience), but the stuff I've had here-- and I'm talking all German reds-- barely... just barely makes the lower end of the "drinkable" scale. This is actually a bit frustrating to me-- I'm all for supporting local and national business, and I really really want to like the stuff here (let the record show I'm a fan of German beer and a lot of German food), but... the red wine comes in just a shade over plonk. I've heard rumors and read reports (like this one) that sing the praises about the red wines of the Ahr Valley in Northwest Germany. Based on the one bottle of Ahr red I had though, I paid €16.00 ($22.00 US) for something that was roughly the equivalent of 2 Buck Chuck-- I mean, I had a Greek red (?!) last week that totally smoked this at half the price. While my search continues in earnest, I have come to the conclusion that with all of the genuinely great Italian-French-Spanish wines at fantastic prices to be found-- why bother? Sorry Germany, but you have lost my wine business.

Movember Madness

In honor of the month of Movember, we have this curious sign, advertising a very old school barber shop on Jobsterstrasse outside the Altstadt. Movember is a month-long mustache growing contest that takes place in much of the Western world seeking to bring attention and charity contest funds to men's health issues. So as not to scare the locals, and also as not to give a 4-week impression that I somehow always have dirt on my upper lip (blonde guys really should tread lightly with the facial hair), I'm sitting this one out. For more information on this curious ritual and worthy cause-- it's not too late to register!!-- click here.

German Lesson

Took a picture of this one while at a recent flohmarkt (flea market), and this is as good an example as any to talk about the German language. If you break it down word for word, this says "The With The Wolf Dancing." Now movie titles get routinely switched around in foreign markets for marketing/clarity reasons (the recent film Get Him To The Greek was was called, after translation, Men's Trip here), but this poster really does mean "Dances With Wolves," due to the German language's differences from English. Having the verb as the last word in a sentence is pretty standard, and I really don't want to get into deeper levels of confusion discussing esoterica like "dative case prepositions." But trust me, the title is a carry-over; it's just the language that routinely stymies me despite my continuing efforts.

Song In My Head Today

Today's song is the Four Tet remix of Pole's "Heim" (got that?). Pole is the nom de guerre of a German named Stefan Betke, and his early music is really hard to pin down-- sort of like dub (an offshoot of reggae) made by a bunch of flickering ghosts. Four Tet (aka Kieran Hebden) is a musician and popular remixer (a guy who interprets and puts his own spin on other folk's music) who's worked with everybody from experimental electronic bands to pop stars to old school jazz drummers. It shouldn't work but it does, and this piece is one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard and one of my personal favorites. Once you get past the skittering drums for the first 1:10, you're golden. If this doesn't move you in some way, you're either deaf or dead. Oh yes, I went there. Enjoy.

Heilig-Geist-Spital

the Hopsice of the Holy Spirit was built between 1332-1339 with funds from a wealthy patrician. The wing you see here over the Pegnitz river was built after 1500. The Heilig-Geist-Spital was the building where the jewels of the Roman Empire were stored between 1424 and 1796. While the area behind this structure still remains true to its roots as a senior citizen's home, the pictured building is currently a very popular restaurant.

Ghost Buildings

This weekend I helped my neighbor and buddy Jason out with transporting and hanging his solo show at a local art gallery. Jason's studio is in one of the neater corners of town, a funky, re-purposed complex of manufacturing buildings formerly used by German electronic/electrical and consumer products giant AEG (similar in scope and product range to General Electric in the States-- they made everything from light bulbs to power tools to locomotives to nuclear reactors). While AEG is just a shell of its former self-- the company was effectively liquidated, but the name continues to be used by Electrolux for its consumer products-- the buildings remain, and are now used to house things like a local brewery, a car importer (old school American muscle cars a specialty), and a stage fabrication company.

Jason's building is exclusively rented out to artists (and a local magazine), and the offices are all now small studios, with some of the larger buildings in the complex being used for gallery shows. Being a fan of old repurposed buildings, I think this place is a gas, and it's kind of cool to walk around the empty floors and guess what used to be there.

Vote.

Living as we do on the far side of the world from the USA we get exposed to world news that Americans don't normally see. There are people who are willing to die for the simple right and privilege to vote. All we are nicely requested to do as Americans is to spend an hour or so every 2 years to go to the polling station or fill out a mail-in ballot. People, let me be clear: that's the greatest bargain a free society could ever ask for. So no matter which side of the political spectrum you may fall on, just do yourself and your country a favor: vote on Tuesday.

Lebkuchen Time

That chill in the air signals a few things in these parts, not the least of which being the annual local lebkuchen (say "leb-kook-hen") fest in Lorenzer Platz downtown (and thankfully far away from the stinky "Fish Days" running at the same time on the far side of the altstadt). Lebkuchen are closely associated with Nuremberg and while they are available year-round, they really come into the national consciousness during holiday season. Taste-wise, lebkuchen are a bit hard to describe to the uninitiated and my explanation will make them sound iffy, but they are a dense, flourless, chewy cookie that takes the best elements of gingerbread and fruitcake, served up on a base that is similar to a communion wafer. I know it sounds like a strange combination but believe me, these things are good, and extremely addictive. How big are lebkuchen in this country? big enough that Starbucks Germany rolls out its lebkuchen latte every winter. Sorry for poor quality of photo-- some assclown jostled me as I took the shot of this stand. Here you can see the different varieties-- the cookies are available plain, glazed, or dipped in white or milk chocolate. Cookie size is around a 4" diameter.

Culture On The Cheap

Every Wednesday night, Nuremberg's Germanisches Nationalmuseum (sorry, no amount of photo-fixing will make this camera phone shot any better) stays open late and offers free admission, so B and I went down there this past week to check out their latest show Mythos Burg (roughly translated, it means the myth of castles), and it was an OK exhibit that attempted to deflate the notion of castles being full of brave knights and fair maidens-- nope, they were grubby places where a lot of people lived and worked in constant paranoia (castles tend to get marauded a lot), though they had it a lot better than the poor schlubs toiling for them down there in the fiefdom. It featured a lot of materials from museum collections all over Europe, even a minor painting from old master Peter Paul Rubens (note: I'm speaking of this P. Paul Rubens, and not this Paul Rubens), who actually purchased a castle in the 17th century, lived in it, and it tended to show up in his works a lot in the background. Showboat.

While hardly a gotta-see destination the Germanisches Nationalmuseum still has a lot going for it, and it's a place where folks can see old master artwork, a substantial armor collection, modern sculpture garden, an expansive musical instrument (especially from the Renaissance-era) section, artifacts from pre-Roman settlements, one of the earliest globes of the world (Nuremberg was an important map-making city) and so forth. Due to its broad collection-- this isn't specifically an art (or archaeological, architectural, weaponry, etc.) museum, but it still is pretty good. And once a week, it's free-- not too shabby.

Really? Christmas Decorations in October?

Took this photo this very afternoon at the high-falutin' Karstadt (think Macy's or Nordstrom and you're on the right track) department store downtown-- they are setting up Christmas decorations before Halloween (or Great Pumpkin day, whichever). This follows a news item I saw where the new Black Friday (deep discounts on Christmas gifts) is now around Halloween time. Sheesh. I haven't even started eating my Halloween candy (not that we have Halloween as we know it here, but I just had to say it). Hey, why is Santa dressed up in an American Flag suit?

OK Then, What Am I Supposed To Do In Here?

Men's room admonishment, The George Tavern.

Ewww Part 2

Taken in the Munich train station. Mr. Porky Pork Scratchings (pork rinds to you and me) are actually a British product, but given German's love of the pig, I'm a bit surprised I don't see these around more than I do. Here's a mildly amusing commercial as a bonus.

Altogether Now: "Ewww"

Spied at my local Rewe (say "ray-vay") supermarket, we have corn (mais) and popcorn-flavored yogurt. As my good buddy and regular reader RW in Seattle can attest, there was a time I'd eat/drink pretty much anything (within a broad latitude of reason) on a dare... but even though this is a lot more palatable than the Ouzo shots and habanero peppers of our younger stupider days, I'll take a pass on trying these out-- taste matters to me now. FWIW, this same company also makes malted milk ball and poppy seed flavored yogurt as well.

Cue The Black Helicopters

After reading a report today that MySpace (remember them?) routinely hands over user information to its advertisers and other interested parties, I was reminded of the following video which shows that Facebook users should be less concerned with the site's regular programming glitches which allow enemies/employers/ex-girlfriends, etc. on the front side to see your information, and a lot more concerned with all those folks on the back side to whom you have already signed off your privacy rights-- corporations and (if you are to believe this video) intelligence agencies.



Now, I'm far from being a conspiracy theorist, and I am very aware of the genuine benefits of social networking sites... but until I can find one that actually gives a rip (a genuine rip) about user privacy--and this is coming from a guy who writes a blog post for all the world to see 2-3 times a week-- I'll take a pass. As for folks who say "(fill in the blank) is the best/hottest/most happening site out there and everybody is on it," I seem to recall they said the same about Friendster and Chatroulette too.

Yes, Please Get This Out of Your System Now

So B and I are going to spend Christmas in Paris this year (it sounds really sexy until you realize that airfare is about the same as Seattle to Oakland on Southwest), and as you may have heard there is open rioting in the streets, primarily in Lyon, the second largest city in France, as well as a Paris suburb. The reason these folks are protesting has to do with the French Senate passing a bill that will raise the official retirement age from 60 to 62. The reason the rioters are largely younger people (plus the hooligan element who are using this as an excuse to trash cars and buildings) is that the unemployment situation in France is pretty high, and the kids feel that this situation will make jobs even more elusive. Certain labor unions are performing sympathy strikes as well, blockading fuel refineries and making gas and jet fuel scarce. The situation appears to be easing today, but we'll see about that. My knowledge of France is far from comprehensive, but like the Italians, strikes and protests are quite routine and normally short-lived. I doubt that anything will be resolved anytime soon, but here's hoping for a Festivus miracle.

Old Armory

Here's a shot of the old Armory in the Nuremberg Altstadt. I don't have much in the way of information about it, but it's been around since at least the early 1700's as evidenced by this copperplate etching from 1723. The building was partially destroyed in WWII and has been rebuilt. These days, it's a police substation.

My Blog's All Grown Up!

I knew this guy who insisted that you didn't "make it" in the business world until somebody took (or at least threatened to take) legal action against you-- at that point you were officially a threat. So I guess I'm big-time now. Apparently this little online outpost of mine was upsetting enough to EMI Music Distribution that a post I wrote a couple days ago was pulled down without my knowledge or consent. I received a service violation notice this evening from Blogger.com telling me that I was airing copyrighted material, and that I couldn't show it. What they were referring to was a video of a 28-year old song. EMI, If you are reading this... wow, don't you guys have something better to do, like working to outlaw Auto Tune and finding good unsigned bands? But anyways, the idea always was to introduce the band and a great song to more people, get the curious to maybe buy a CD from these guys (something that I, in fact, did myself last week) or buy the tune digitally, perhaps even pick up a book written by the former frontman (something I still plan to do, bad taste in my mouth notwithstanding). Not stealing fellas-- helping. Get it right.

Right Name, Wrong Specialty

And... completing the string of puerile posts we have this photo from my physician's building. Does anyone need more of a translation than "Arzt" = Doctor? Didn't think so. Not much else to say other than these guys would have a ball riffing on this.

One More

I thought I had gone through all of the racier photos (all 3 of them!) in my folder this week, but may as well get all of these out at the same time. Here's another shot from our summer daytrip to Ingolstadt, a sleepy university town and world HQ of Audi with a population of 125,000. Presumably, this shop is more efficient at selling smut than its German or Austrian brethren. As an aside, I've detected a distinct dislike between the Swiss and Germans-- one guy I know opined that friction exists because "The Swiss are what the Germans only wish they were" (i.e. punctual, efficient). Whatever. It's still a strange name for a store.

Grounded

Often in error; never in doubt" is my motto, but I would like to backtrack on a recent post I made about flight options from Copenhagen to Nuremberg.

If I am understanding this correctly, SAS Airlines' subsidiary Cimber will not, in fact be flying the route as was previously announced. That being said, it still appears to be all systems go (sorry, link in German only) for SAS codeshare partner OLT to fly this route starting on 2 November. No reasons are being given, and it's the airlines' perogative to alter tentative plans up to the day of the launch, though I suspect one airline may be enough for now, and perhaps SAS is taking a wait-and-see approach to this.

Pervy Germans

Completing the inadvertent theme of my adoptive countrymen's ribaldry over the last few days, here's a poster I photographed in Munich a few months back. While adverts like these may pop up in places like independent newspapers, clubs, and the flyers those skeevy guys hand out in front of Vegas hotels back in the States, it should be noted that this was photographed about a block from the art museum in a tony part of a city of 1.4 million. Ads of this type are so common that it's really not a big deal here-- attitudes towards sexuality in Germany (and Europe in general) are notably relaxed, bordering on blasé. The irony here is the seeming disconnect between posters like this and the fact that Bavaria is generally considered one of the more conservative regions of the country.

Saucy Germans

This billboard for the Nuremberg city playhouse is all over town (and I believe those are tiny cake figurines). Translated, it means "The new playhouse: 8 premieres in 3 weeks! Off to paradise!" That's showbiz, I guess. Stuff like this doesn't make anybody bat an eye here-- it takes a lot more to get a rise out of Johann Citizen.

Those Crazy Germans

Sorry for the window glare in the photo. You really don't have to speak German to understand what this advertisement is about. This is the full-size poster/window display at my local Apotheke (drug store), shilling for a feminine, er, extinguisher product. The running (and not terribly funny) joke about German drug stores is that there are no actual drugs in them-- they are all filled with herbal and natural remedies. If you want drugs, then show up with your doctor's prescription and they'll fill it, usually by the next day.

Reflections on Year 2

With very little fanfare, we marked 2 years in Germany the other week-- actually, I think we were in Austria with B's Mom on the actual date and sort of forgot about it, but we enjoyed a belated bottle of champagne this past weekend so all is well.

I wish I could impart some sort of bigger picture, some sort of "lessons learned," but... um, not much here. We've both become a lot more patient, that's for sure-- dealing with a comically stifling bureaucracy and an impenetrable language (come on, do we really need 16 different ways to say the word "the"?) does that. We count as friends people from all walks and professions that, to be honest, we normally wouldn't come into contact with back home-- everybody from IT whiz kids to high-flying execs to musicians and artists, and we're pretty proud to be in their circle. We've been to places I've only read about in travel magazines and dreamt about visiting "someday." On the whole, life is good. Oh sure, I'd love to be busier-- I'm one of those weirdies who finds happiness in a full workload, and I'm getting there in a fashion. But in the end--and as was completely expected-- living in Europe has changed us more than the other way around. And we really wouldn't have it any other way.

Expat Summit!

Spent some time this afternoon with the good folks behind Regensblog Cliff and Sarah (note: photo not actually of Cliff on the right, and camera-shy Yours Truly on left; this is just a rough approximation), here in the big city with Sarah's brother for some culture and R+R. It was good to catch up and realize that the expat experience is pretty universal for all people. More on this (and our conversational threads) in the days and weeks to come.

In case you are wondering exactly who is in this photo, why it's none other than Kieran Hebden (better known as Four Tet) and the artist known only as Burial. Their recent collaborations were some of the most name-checked beats on the alternative scene last year. If you're curious, follow this link to the brilliant, dizzying song Wolf Cub.

TSIMH: Echo & The Bunnymen, "Crocodiles"

The Song In My Head Today is 80's alt-rock heroes Echo & The Bunnymen doing an incendiary live version of their song "Crocodiles." In their prime, these guys could blow anybody off the stage, and it's pretty obvious that a certain well-known performer stole most of his cooler on-stage affectations (like weaving other disparate lyrics into the song you're currently performing) from Echo's Ian McCulloch. Long live the Bunnies!

Travel Options

Normally I defer to regular reader/commenter Cliff's blog to get the latest travel scoops, but this tidbit just came onto my radar last night. If you are like me and dislike massive connecting airports like Amsterdam's inefficient Schiphol (which one wag re-christened "sh@*hole") or rabbit warren/marathon endurance test that is the Frankfurt airport (seriously, Moses walked less than what a standard coach class traveler covers there to get a connecting flight), and don't get me started on the nine circles of hell known as Paris-Charles de Gaulle... there is now another option to get to little ol' Nuremberg. Thanks to 2 different airlines' upcoming schedules, travelers can now transfer at the acclaimed Copenhagen airport. SAS Scandanavia (Star Alliance member) flies nonstop from several US cities to Copenhagen. From there, folks can take either SAS partner Cimber-Sterling or one of Germany's oldest airlines, the overachieving OLT (also an SAS codeshare partner). Thanks to these new direct flights, I do believe we will take advantage and check out Copenhagen ourselves soon and see what all the rave reviews are about-- er, but not in the wintertime.

Visitor Coming, Time To Clean

Hey, it's not like we're slobs, but sometimes you let things slide when you don't have people over on a regular basis. Starting tomorrow we'll be hosting B's Mom for a couple weeks, with a number of daytrips (plus one big excursion) on tap. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some dust bunnies to wrangle.