Happy Holidays Everybody!

Well, lessee... last year at this time, we were sipping wine in a Paris cafe, and 2 years ago we had a singularly crappy experience in a faux Scottish bar in Rome (as I recall, our Italian waiter was incensed we tipped him "only" 20% that evening for his gag-awful service). This year we're back in our hometown of Portland eating take-n-bake pizza, cracking open a $10 bottle of wine, watching A Christmas Story and enjoying this view from our balcony-- that's Mount Hood which you can see from downtown Portland (look to the Northeast, and you may even see Mount St. Helens on a clear night too).

B and I would like to thank our readers (and all you lurkers too-- hey, why not subscribe?) for stopping by over the year.  It's been a dynamic one to be sure-- we really were not prepared to head home quite yet, but hey you gotta play the hand you've been dealt.  We'll spend our post-Christmas rekindling an old tradition with our friends-- heading out to the rugged Oregon Coast, and planning our first "real" getaway for 2012.  Not to jinx it, but look out Canada!

We wish everybody a happy holiday season and a great 2012.

Computer Problems, Please Stand By

Not much happening here at ExpatUSA HQ. Well, actually there are, it's just that I haven't been chronicling very well. The biggest news is that my laptop died in a spectacular flame-out, and I've been struggling to pick up the pieces.

The short version is that my laptop computer (a Dell XPS, which was temperamental almost from the beginning and is now known to have inherent cooling and hardware design issues) destroyed its internal hard drive LITERALLY as I was scrambling to download everything to an external hard drive. Everything-- and I do mean everything-- from the last 3 years was basically lost. All photos of Europe, my work portfolio, bills, tax information, every document, and all the rest... gone. And the external drive? Well, despite backing it up on a semi-regular basis (but not nearly enough, natch) it was found out post-mortem that the last data it had dated from April(?!) and there was something inherently wrong with THAT as well. The good folks at Geek Squad told me that they could rescue the data from the toasted hard drive for the low low price of around $1700, then cautioned that they had zero idea of just how much they could find, but I'd be on the hook for the total no matter how large or small the recovery. Submitting the external drive for recovery will cost about $850 with the same non-guarantee of the amount of data that can be rescued. So folks... like an IT guy told me: data isn't safe until it is in 3 different places (the computer itself, external drive, and a third storage method like cloud data services). Word to the wise: don't be like me. Computers are not infallible, and the best way to approach them is to assume all will be gone in a puff of smoke.

So instead of paying in to my retirement accounts and buying a lot of Christmas gifts, more pressing concerns arose-- like getting a new computer, and salvaging the remnants of the "old" laptop. The "new" system was a relative bargain, but still more than I was wanting to pay (especially at this time of the year), and the old laptop was outfitted with a new $65 hard drive and is consigned strictly to light web surfing and entertainment duty. I simply do not trust it for anything else-- this is the computer's 3rd hard drive since 2008 (readers with good memories will remember this post from 2010). On the bright side, seeing as I work from home, I can probably get this new computer deducted from my taxes.

Regarding the old laptop, I decided to have a bit of geek fun and try out a more experimental web browser, one that wasn't a bloated pig (cough cough, Firefox) given the computer's temperament and annoying desire to destroy itself every 18 months. Into the breach, I downloaded the nerd-rific open platform Arora browser, which is really REALLY bare-bones, but just about right for the computer's current usage and second-tier status. All in all, it's an OK browser, and does almost everything that other web browsers do with a few quirks along the way (it doesn't recognize or load certain web pages about 5% of the time), but overall it's pretty good. Light and fast, plus its logo (pictured) looks like the bear is dirty dancing with the globe, so it has that going for it.

More adventures soon, including the unexpectedly long road to re-integrating back to the USA lifestyle.

Nuremberg Book Swap This Weekend

This one's for my German readers in the Nuremberg 'hood.

By all accounts, she's doing a bang-up job herself, but my ol' buddy Katherine With a K (and if you're not reading her blog, what's stopping you?) has picked up the mantle and is currently hosting the Nuremberg Book and Media Swap this coming weekend (November 20, 2011) at O'Neill's Pub in Nuremberg. Projected turnout looks VERY promising, which means the pickings should be really nice. Bring your pre-loved books, magazines and DVDs for exchange, have a beer and hang with the Nuremberg expat community. You can read more about it here.

Renters!!!

OK, so we're living in a condo here in Portland. The place is pretty small, but really really nice-- the construction materials are absolute top notch, our patio looks out onto the Willamette River (the body of water which bisects Portland), and from here we have views of Mount Hood and the impressive Fremont Bridge (pics to come). It's a tony kind of place, and we really lucked out on getting it-- our landlord sees the condo as something of a lucrative nuisance he doesn't want to deal with all that much, so he vets his tenants well and sets the rent at FAR below market value so he doesn't have to deal with a lot of turnover. And our neighbors? Well, we are amongst the youngest folks in the building, and (judging by all the Audis, Land Rovers and BMWs in the parking garage) probably don't make quite as much salary as these high fliers, but whatever.

Like I said, we rent. The Portland housing market is rather fluid right now and shows no signs of settling down, so we have made the conscious decision to wait-and-see before we commit to home ownership. I also said we rent in a very upscale condo on the waterfront. And because of this, some of our neighbors treat us like dirt. Interestingly, our previous place in Portland (6 or so years ago, and pre-Germany) was a similar situation-- the smallest house on the block of a fairly upscale neighborhood, and we rented that as well. In both situations, when the neighbors first heard we were bottom-feeding renters, you'd have thought I told them that that we were running a puppy mill with the proceeds from our meth lab. Hey folks, sorry we don't have crazy amounts of cash lying around to actually purchase these places, yet still have the gall to want to live in these nice neighborhoods. In the end, we proved to be excellent neighbors when we lived at the house, and it had better curb appeal than some of the other places on the block-- I made sure of that personally. I expect that our current neighbors will find that out as well. Eventually, anyways.

Dear Germany: How Can I Miss You If You Won't Let Me Leave?

What, you thought I'd given up on blogging dear reader? Nope, just trying to get our sea legs as we adjust to the whipsaw that is life back in the United States after a prolonged time away. Just think... free WiFi wherever you go, bottomless cups of (delicious) coffee, stores open past 8:00PM and all day on Sundays, re-acquainting ourselves to that wondrous thing known as "Happy Hour," and English... glorious, loud, inappropriately yammering on your cell, ignorant, wonderfully understandable English everywhere. Like I said, it's been an adjustment.

Part of that adjustment was living in a sort of enforced limbo as our belongings made their way back from Europe and living in a glorified hotel room for 2 months waiting for our stuff, all the while scrambling like hell during every second of downtime to find a permanent place to live, car to purchase, employment for yours truly, and reconnect with all our friends- some of whom we hadn't seen in 3+ years. It was, in a word, exhausting. But with the benefit of being mostly settled here in Portland, I think there's enough emotional distance to discuss just how botched this move really was-- it was comically awful in some bits, and as the title suggests, it's not actually complete. In some ways, we still aren't moved out of Germany quite yet. Here follows a less-than-comprehensive listing of our travails over the last 2.5 months:

- Our German bank lost several thousand Euros of our money-- we asked for a portion of our German savings to be transferred to our USA account, and it just disappeared into the ether. It was mistakenly sent to some account in New York state far as I can follow it. To the bank's eternal discredit, they were a lot more interested in covering their tracks, ignoring our requests to see the paper trail and shifting the blame than in, you know, actually locating the cash. It took almost 2 weeks for it to reappear.

- Part of B's Euro contract was that the German branch of a VERY WELL KNOWN accounting firm was supposed to file our US taxes for us. Whoops, they kinda didn't really do that, and when their local US offices heard from us upon returning two things happened immediately: (1.) they lawyered up, and (2.) we got treated like radioactive lepers. Understandably, they wanted to be well and truly clear of the blast zone from the fallout of their German cohorts who they all but admitted were incompetent. Taxes all paid up and a couple hundred dollars in late penalties later, we're all good but this could have been easily avoided if somebody had just done their damn contractually obligated job. We're still hashing out who ultimately should pay the late fees.

- B's German health insurance company continued to bill our account months after we left, stating that we hadn't proved that we moved out of the country to their level of satisfaction. Excuse me?

- T-Mobile Germany did not want to let us out of our cell phone contracts which expire in January, and insisted that they continue to bill our bank account monthly-- except that we want to close out our bank account. After a seemingly endless round-and-round, they made an exception to bill the account in a lump sum. They weren't terribly happy with it-- this was considered an "extraordinary request." Trust me, I wasn't happy with it either.

- Despite moving out of our German apartment on August 9, that hasn't been closed out yet and we still have not received our hefty deposit back. The jackhole who was responsible for the shoddy construction of the apartment from 3 years ago was now the rental agent, handling the move-out protocol for our landlords who live several hours away. This struck me as quite odd seeing as our landlords are still trying to sue this guy to repair his construction errors but whatever. Long story short, replacement renters weren't found, so by law we were on the hook for 2 more months of rent and HOA fees-- then the tool rental agent thought that since we weren't in the country anymore and couldn't defend ourselves, he could get us to pay for his building errors (remember, our apartment walls were never properly sealed from moisture and steadily leached saltpeter), insisting that we had to pay to repaint large portions of the apartment with a special-- and quite expensive ($1000!!)-- sealant paint. When this brazen cash grab was shot down cold by the landlords themselves, he then re-entered the (empty) apartment and cranked up the heat to approximately 90 degrees (in August!) in an attempt to tamp down the moisture in the walls. Despite photographic evidence that we turned off all thermostats upon leaving, we are now expected to pay the utility bill for these 2 months ($200 or so) and the landlords have chosen to sit this argument out. Cowards. We have exhausted all other avenues of mediation, and the idea of getting a lawyer to haggle over $200 in order to get back the rest of our deposit seems pointless, so if we want our deposit back this decade we'll have to suck this one up. The HOA-type fees are another matter with a different person (the building Super), and because we actually have been owed a refund since July, he has shown little interest in settling the bill.

If we're really lucky, we may be able to close out all of our remaining German accounts and contracts by Thanksgiving (late November to the non-American readers). I'm not sure that's a realistic date, but that's the goal.

Time, distance and the glacially slow resolution of most of these issues have removed most of the bile in my system. I tried to blog several times before, but the posts were rather venomous-- I was absolutely stunned that we just could not resolve anything without the aid of no less than 2 different relocation agents, multiple phone calls and a flurry of correspondence. I mean, surely people have attempted to leave Germany before, right? But anyway, that's all behind us for the most part and I can devote some time to talking about Portland's food scene (I've easily gained 10 pounds since returning), posting some more pics and trying to figure out where exactly to take this blog.

The photo up top is none other than comedian Mike Meyers in his recurring role of Dieter, host of a fictitious German chat show named Sprockets as seen on Saturday Night Live. As I recall, this character was based on a real person, a hockey-obsessed German waiter in Meyer's hometown of Toronto. For a taste of this classic skit, check out here, or for a rather abbreviated version of the same, try here.

Glad to be back, and more posts on the way!

Time's Up

So damn true-- sing it Jimmy!

Well, that was quick. The movers come tomorrow morning, we do the official walk-through and handover of the apartment on Thursday and we're flying back to the USA early Friday morning. I attempted to write a few blog entries throughout this process, but they all came across as rather bitter and angry, so they never got posted-- I've moved enough times to know that this move wasn't handled especially smoothly, but then again I'm not paying for the relocation, so I'm not really in a position to complain too much. But we weren't quite done with Germany or Europe to be honest. Yes, Portland is our home and there is nowhere else I'd rather live in the USA... but we still wish we had more time to do... well, all those things we wanted to do, from my silly "Teeny Tiny Country Tour" of European microcountries (Luxembourg, Andorra and Lichtenstein), more Spain for B, seedy second tier French cities like Marseille and Toulouse, London, maybe give Berlin a second try (because the first time we found it borderline revolting much to everyone's surprise), and so forth.

I'm sure I'll give some better analysis and insights as my head clears, the stress ebbs away and the place doesn't reek of cleaning fluid and cardboard boxes. But I really do recommend living abroad to anybody-- it does widen your horizons, gives you an appreciation for other cultures and points of view and generally makes you appreciate just how good America is. One other thing: It also makes you want to live abroad again. I'd like to think that sometime down the road-- maybe not in the immediate future, perhaps closer to retirement-- we'll update the passports, sell off the home furniture, dust off the big suitcases and hit the road.

More thoughts soon, as well as the future of this here blog-- maybe I burn off the remainder of the embarrassingly large number of photos I never got around to posting; perhaps I shift this over to a Portland-based blog; perhaps start a new one. I'm sort of undecided at the moment.

B and I would like to thank all of you who stopped by this little outpost on the interwebs-- it's been a fun ride, and we're not quite done yet. Stay tuned. In the meantime, enjoy the linked video-- it's an old favorite of B's, and perfectly sums up our feelings right now. It'll be great to go home, make no mistake-- but we still wouldn't mind lingering for just a little bit longer.

Half-Assing It

(1.) "Hey, aren't you leaving the country or something?
-Yes,and all too soon.

(2.) Are you ever going to post those pictures of your Barcelona vacation?
-Sort of.

The relocation back to the USA has been proceeding at an infuriatingly glacial pace, though we are expected to move at a rocket sled-like clip once we get all the facts and dates in... and sadly, that really hasn't happened despite/because of an oft-revised-- sometimes pushed forward, sometimes pushed back-- move-out date as dictated by B's employer (who are handling the actual logistics). As of today, it would appear that it's going to happen on or about August 10... except that the arranged temporary housing they set up in the USA doesn't kick in until the 15th, making us homeless for 5 days. It's a weird two-step we have to work with-- As I've been saying for nigh on 3 years here, Germany is different, so we have to more or less gut the apartment (renters in Germany are generally responsible for purchasing and installing all light fixtures and their entire kitchen, then removing everything upon leaving an apartment), and yet still figure out how to live here before the moving truck arrives. We're dumping all of our goods from the microwave to the car at fire sale pricing, and even something as basic as that was a hot mess due to a flubbed posting date that gave the general public a shot at the goodies before our circle of friends had a proper crack at it. We're going to lose thousands of Euros on the car alone, give away/donate a whole mess of other stuff (what? nobody needs a coffee maker?!) and we really can't do much about that-- we've run out of time. The actual paper trail of moving out has been a bit of a slog as well-- in Germany, canceling a contract is a 3-month process, meaning that even if you move out of the country you still have to pay your rent-- we notified our landlord on June 30, so we're obligated to pay rent until September 30 if nobody else wants to move in. We also found out from our local relocation agent (and thank the stars we have one of those) that certain papers have to be filed after we physically leave. I joked with blog doyenne Katherine With a K that for a country that really didn't want us here in the first place, Germany sure makes it hard to leave. Oh, I should mention that B has been in China on business for the last 2 weeks so our ability to coordinate and communicate with each other and the relocation company has been severely hampered. I wish I could spin this with my usual jollity and snark, but the process has become a long, slow grind. All moves stink whether it's across the street or halfway across the world. The fact that we have to work with 8-10 different people on 2 continents (while B is in a third continent) who aren't necessarily speaking with each other makes this one especially, um, challenging.

So between fending off the likes of ravenous buyers trying to nickel-and-dime me on the DVD player (and who then expect drop-off delivery 3 cities away-- true story), being at the beck-and-call of my relocation person for impromptu meetings and contract cancellation visits to the power company and attempting to keep the place clean for drop-by apartment hunters and assorted furniture buyers, I finally got around to posting the Barcelona photos. I really don't know if anybody bothered to read the commentaries I wrote for the previous photo sets-- if you haven't then feel free to proceed to the photo site and jump right in. For those who do read them, well it's still a work in progress. Part of it has to do with my lack of time; the other part of it has to do with the fact that the middle third of the photos were taken in "parts unknown"-- we really just wandered around wherever the wind took us, and I have no clear idea of where we were. Trying to cross-reference guide books and maps to get a bead on things (not to mention researching and writing about them) is terribly time consuming, and that seems to be one commodity I don't have at the moment. Patience, please. Barcelona photos can be accessed by the link on the right hand side of the page, or simply clicking here or here.

As with everything folks, this shall pass and we'll be out of here soon enough. In fact, I've hatched a crackpot plan that will give us one final Euro holiday weekend on the way back to the USA. Don't want to jinx anything, and everything is contingent on getting those move-out dates locked down and the destination to be reasonably affordable that it won't break our piggy bank (remember that August is high tourist season here on the Continent). More soon on that.

Photo is of the famous Sagrada Família Church in Barcelona, the most famous structure in the city and probably the most important piece of Surrealist architecture in the world. Construction began in 1822, and it still has several decades to go before it is completed. It's less than half-complete-- sort of like our move and my photo captions. See? I really work hard to tie everything together thematically!

Eww... Bad Form.

So there I was, minding my own business with my buddy J at the Schanzenbräu brewery warehouse this afternoon, enjoying a cold hoppy helles beer. Schanzenbräu is an interesting story-- they were car nuts who happened to brew beer as a hobby. Over the years, their beer got more attention than the American muscle cars they imported into Germany and lovingly restored-- so now it's a growing brewery (and local restaurant) that also dabbles in classic Detroit iron restoration. Anyhoozle, J is a graphic artist by trade and has been working with Schanzenbräu to bring out some new T-shirt designs. One of his designs has the red-and-white Franconian flag prominently displayed (Franconia is the northern region of Bavaria, and Nuremberg is generally considered its capitol). For the purposes of the display, the design was mocked up on a black T-Shirt. No less than 3 people-- both the brewery owners and some random guy standing off to the side reacted immediately and negatively to this image on J's computer-- we were told that black, red, and white were a very VERY bad combination, and that they didn't want to "associate our beer with Nazis." Um, excuse me? Turns out that those 3 colors carry a lot of heavy historical weight in these parts still-- red, white and black were also the color of the Nazi flag. Whoopsie!

As soon as I heard that, my mind shot immediately back to the odd reception I got last year when I wore my Saint Kilda Saints jersey into town. Saint Kilda is an Australian Rules Football team, and you can see their jersey ("jumper" in Aussie speak) in the photo being modeled by all-galaxy player Nick Riewoldt. I have a long-sleeve version of this jumper, and I distinctly remember the day we went into town-- I got a LOT of attention, and even B mentioned it-- I figured it was because it's a pretty distinctive jersey, Germans are pretty sports crazy yet don't follow Aussie Footy, and they were trying to figure out what I was wearing. Um... whoopsie? Readers may be relieved to know that while I have an Aussie Rules Football jersey (I love that sport), I do not own the crazy socks or a pair of those short-shorts-- have to draw the line somewhere.

Your Entire Life In Here (With Room To Spare)

The tedious and stressful process of moving out of Germany officially began earlier this week with the arrival of the shipping agent. I'll give B's employer credit-- just as they did on our way over, they will cover the moving costs back to the USA, down to even packing our stuff for us. Not that it's that much stuff apparently: We're leaving behind and selling the car (EU-spec cars are different than US and can not be brought back), the standard IKEA particle board furniture endemic to expats, and all of our electronics (European plugs and electronics are not compatible with US electricity) will be sold as well. But I was mildly surprised to find out that all of the stuff we brought over and all of the stuff we purchased and are keeping-- including the good furniture-- still fits in a standard, lowly 20-foot shipping container as pictured here. Sure, there are some items waiting for us in storage back in the USA, but before moving we sold or gave away damn near all of our furniture (we lived like a couple of students, right down to the futons), so there isn't a whole lot there. The kicker is that after surveying the place, the estimator immediately said "20 foot container" without hesitation. When I asked him if he was sure, he confidently told me that there will be some extra room in there as well.

I'm still not sure whether that's pretty neat (we've never been fans of having a lot of "stuff"), or sort of downbeat... I mean, we're responsible adults with responsible jobs-- aren't we supposed to have an embarrassing amount of crap, bric-a-brac, gewgaws and trinkets by now? But at least it will make for a quick move-- our apartment will take less than 1 day to pack, and less than 1 day to put it in the container, where we won't see the contents until 2-3 months later.

A Nation Shrugs: Women's World Cup Soccer in Germany

World Cup? Wasn't that the soccer tournament in South Africa last year? Yes indeed-- but that was the men's World Cup. The Women's World Cup is talking place right now here in Germany. While my memories of business slowing to a crawl, entire city plazas converted into makeshift viewing areas with multiple jumbotron TV's, and a palpable sense of patriotism surged from the usually apolitical and button-down Germans (who eventually claimed 3rd place) last year, the women's World Cup has inspired a lot of... er, apathy. How apathetic? Well, both Puma and Adidas are located in the area, and through my connections and associations (trust me, English speakers manage to find each other when living abroad), I know for a fact that neither company is doing much to really support this event, nevermind that these are 2 of the larger players in the world of soccer. I don't want to tell tales out of school, but I managed to be hanging out with nearly the entire Puma soccer division the other weekend, and they weren't sure if they even sponsored any country's national women's team-- they honestly couldn't remember. Adidas, who has both the tournament's leading scorer and the winning team trophy named after the company, did not know if they were even going to be showing the games on the TV's there.

The Women's World Cup also differs in that there are less teams playing-- 16 instead of the men's 32, so the actual tournament is shorter-- it started on Sunday (June 26th) and will be finished by mid-July. I was working on a project at home today and I had the games on the TV with the sound off. You know what? They were actually really good-- the teams are very evenly matched so far with no blowouts. Aficionados of the women's game will tell you that the players at this level have much better skills and fundamentals-- stuff that men's players sometimes can cover up with better speed or power to compensate. We'll see how this plays out in the days and weeks to come, but early favorites to win the whole megillah are... Germany and the USA.

The header photo is not a Photoshop-- it's the actual cover of German Playboy with the German women's team in various cheesecake-y (but not compromising) photos. Naturally, there is a flap about this, but it should be noted that nobody forced the players to participate. Their logic is that, OK, we need more people to follow the sport, so if some yokel tunes in to see the "Playboy girls" and comes away an actual fan of the game, then so much the better and it was worth it. You can follow the Women's World Cup wherever you are by checking out this website, run by FIFA, the sport's governing organization. Unlike the 2006 Men's World Cup (also held in Germany), Nuremberg is not a host city/stadium. The closest city would be Augsburg, about 2 hours due south of here, and neither the USA or Germany are scheduled to play there.

Sketches of Spain Pt. 3b: Food Porn- La Boqueria

The excruciatingly slow Barcelona travelogue continues! Honestly people, it was never the intention to string these trip reports out for as long as it has, but what with work, guests, B's unexpected job offer, our upcoming move, procrastination, etc., etc., it's been an interesting last 2 months. But hey, let's get back to Spain for a bit and talk some more about that great food culture.

One of the must-see destinations of any Barcelona itinerary is the Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria, known universally as La Boqueria, situated just off the main tourist street La Rambala and quite close to our hotel. In short, La Boqueria is an open air food market frequented by as many locals as it is tourists. But to leave it at that would be doing it a grave disservice, because La Boqueria is so much more-- it is a temple to food in all of its many forms, a social gathering hub, a place to eat and drink, and a crossroads of commerce and cultures all under one sizable roof. I didn't know what to expect (and the travel shows really don't do it justice), but it was amazing-- the sights, the smells, the colors, the people. You name the food, and you could probably find it at La Boqueria with a little bit of searching. Operating something like a farmer's market, La Boqueria has hundreds of independent businesses operating their own stalls (really microscopic individual stores, complete with below-ground storage, refrigeration, etc.), each with its own specialty or genre. Shopping for offal? There are 5 stalls. Do you really like olives? Salted fish? African spices? South American specialties? Yes to all. La Boqueria is also something of a grazer's paradise-- forget trolling the endcaps at Costco on a Staurday for corn dogs, you really need to be here for fruit so fresh that it nearly explodes in your mouth, artisan cheeses, fresh squeezed juice, sweets, all manner of meats (including many stalls dedicated to the near mythical Jamón ibérico: ham from black footed pigs fed a diet of acorns with the meat being cured for 36 months) nifty micro bars and so much more. I spoke of tapas in my last Spanish post, and there are also a few sit-down tapas bars serving food all day at the market-- they are justly famous, and we enjoyed lunch at both Bar Pinotxo and Kiosko Universal (if you watch the linked video, you can see why I'd use the term "sit-down" advisedly--these places are tiny, and I actually ate my lunch at Bar Pinotxo standing up, balancing my plate in one hand and my fork in the other, being jostled by the crush of humanity all the while). Some of the pictures we took in La Boqueria would be upsetting to some people who find skinned animals and severed heads a bit off-putting, so I'll won't post them here, but maybe on the linked photo site when time allows. But it was a great time with some fabulous food. If you find yourself in Barcelona and have 2-3 hours to spend, go to La Boqueria and definitely bring your appetite.

Just Like That, It's Over

Hey you! Getting sick of seeing that photo of a steak on the top of this flog for 2 weeks straight? Yeah, me too, but a lot has transpired here at expat HQ over the intervening time that made me hold off writing new posts. I will continue with the Barcelona entries soon enough, and maybe even tell the tale of B's brush with the byzantine German health care system for her owie, but the elephant in the room can now be revealed:

We're heading home. In record time. As in 7 weeks from now.

The short story is that B's home office had an opening that was just too good to pass up. I'm simplifying a lot of details here for the sake of a compact entry, but suffice it to say it was still a very difficult decision to make. It wasn't so long ago that we were discussing staying in Europe long term (the vagaries of German taxation and retirement benefit laws force non-EU workers to make the decision to stay or leave by the 5-year mark), and we even seriously pondered a posting in Southeast Asia. But... assorted freelance projects aside, I was getting antsy doing the Hausmann thing here (something which would have continued in Asia), B had progressed up through her company's ranks thanks to this German posting and was getting noticed by the right people, and then this plum job opened up in our beloved Portland; there was no guarantee that a similar position would open up in 2012 or 2013-- which is when we planned to look into heading home. There's more-- a LOT more, but that's the absolute bare-bones abstract of it. I've taken to calling this a perfect storm, but that's not necessarily in a good way.

Figures. I just had my first full, coherent, complete and grammatically correct conversation in German with my local merchant unaided by hand gestures (my charades game will positively slay when we get back), I've been getting more and more work projects including an offer of a long-term position in a downtown office, we were making early plans to host more guests and relatives, not to mention picking out our next holiday destination here (Amsterdam? Copenhagen? Sevilla?)... but Murphy's law had other ideas. I swear, this must be the contractual expat equivalent of washing your car just before it rains.

Fear not readers; I have an embarrassingly large backlog of photos and stories to tell of our European adventure that could last well into the winter, and plans are afoot to regale you about the nightmarish 7 weeks ahead and the bumpy road to "extraction" (as it's known) and repatriation. Should be an interesting ride. Stay tuned-- things are just heating up.

Do I have to rename the blog now?

Sketches of Spain Pt. 3a: Food Porn--Tapas!!

Interesting week here at expat HQ-- a couple of freelance jobs coming to fruition for yours truly, the wall problem that has plagued us since we moved in way back in Winter of 2008 seems to be repaired (fingers crossed), and some other odds and ends that I will probably reference in the near future... but for now, back to the slow reveal of our trip to Barcelona.

Thus far I've discussed some of the headaches of our trip, but once we got out of the airport and our hotel room, it really was a fun time overall. Right now, Spain is known far and wide as a bit of a foodie paradise, and availing ourselves to that was one of our few objectives when we planned the trip. I've capped on our hotel, but the front desk clerks have my everlasting gratitude for pointing out a newer restaurant a few blocks away, and just off Las Ramblas: Bar Cañete. Despite being in what is generally considered a touristy area, this little gem was very much a locals-only joint, which made it all the better-- because this is how the natives eat, and brother, I must say that I'm insanely jealous. Bar Cañete is a tapas restaurant, which means that they primarily serve "small plates," just one or 2 bites worth of food at corresponding prices. The cool thing about tapas is that everybody orders 3 or 4 dishes each and you can share your food with your date or your friends. We also happened to be supping at the bar (where we had a primo view of the open kitchen-- best floor show in town) while the FC Barcelona vs. Real Madrid soccer match-- a long and heated rivalry-- was on the TV. Barcelona won 2-0, and the place was rocking is all I have to say. And the food? We've been to a lot of restaurants, and have had the extreme good fortune to enjoy some excellent meals. But this one was definitely Top 3 of all time material. It really was that damn good. So good in fact that we happily... nay, gleefully broke one of our personal cardinal rules of travel: Never eat at the same restaurant twice-- there is so much to experience; do not confine yourself to the same place. Not this time.

The dish you see pictured was not tapas, but more of a smallish main course: a perfectly cooked flatiron steak on a bed of whipped potatoes topped with... wait for it... foie gras. Decadent (and actually too rich for me to be honest)-- but man alive, the first few bites were revelatory before I separated the beef from the pate. Lurking in the background are a husky Spanish house red and another wondrous discovery: Barcelona's own Moritz beer which worked great with the meal. If anybody is heading over to Barcelona, I can not recommend this place enough-- this is a food lover's dream, with the freshest ingredients prepared simply and expertly. We'll remember Bar Cañete for a long time.

In the meantime, here is a short promotional video of Bar Cañete, and its expert chefs going through their paces-- grab a napkin; you're going to drool.

The System Works!

Finally, some sort of resolution from our not-that-great Barcelona hotel (see entry below). Without taking any sort of blame or apologizing for our starcrossed stay, the hotel did offer us the choice of either a partial refund or a free night (plus breakfast!) in an upgraded room next time we're in Barcelona. We chose the money because we have no idea when we'll be back in that part of Spain. While this is the first time we've ever complained about our lodging, I agree with the conventional wisdom that you should make your displeasure known both during the stay and upon check out, and follow-up afterwards if you are still not satisfied-- after all, it's not whining if it's true.

Who Says German Is An Ugly Language?

Sitting here as the paint crew works away (yes indeedy, our peeling wall problem still hasn't gone away, 2.5 years after move-in), I decided to get into the spirit of things and hopefully speed these guys up by playing German-language tunes instead of, I don't know, Grand Funk (though Mel Schacher certainly does rock his canary yellow satin jumpsuit and platform heels in the linked video). Besides the requisite Falco, I played electro-pranksters Deichkind, plus something a bit more mellow, popster Clueso. Actually, I play his CD So Sehr Dabei whenever guests are over-- it's a great record in any language. Anyways, here's a video from that album for a song called "Gewinner" ("winner" in English). You don't have to understand a word of German to appreciate it, and when this song inevitably gets remade in English, somebody's going to have a hit on their hands.

CLUESO GEWINNER

Talk About The Rapture: The Song In My Head Today

TheRapture "House Of Jealous Lovers."

Haven't done this in a while, and it's a rare occasion when I can actually tie in my music tastes to a theme day. In, um, honor of today's coming apocalypse here we have NYC band The Rapture grinding through "House of Jealous Lovers." You gotta love their lo-fi sound, frankly amazing rhythm section (that fluid and funky bass work deserves special mention), a guitarist who appears to be tuning the instrument during the solo, a singer who sounds like he's on work-release from a mental institution, and cowbell-- plenty of cowbell. Actually, it's a fun song and an inventive, kinetic video. WARNING: The song starts about :15 seconds into the video (hold tight), and depending on your level of comfort, there are images of a cartoon duck taking a cartoon dookie for a total of 2 seconds. So there. Enjoy!

Sketches of Spain Pt. 2: Faulty Tower-- Our Hotel

No, I'm not speaking of the classic BBC comedy Fawlty Towers; this has to do with our underwhelming hotel in Barcelona. Longtime readers of this flog know that I don't use this as a forum to settle scores... but these people have consciously made the choice not to set things right with us, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to call them out:

The Hotel España came recommended by a colleague of B's; a well-traveled executive who has seen their share of hotels all over the world. Despite its lofty rates, it was well-positioned just off the fashionably seedy (and insanely noisy) Las Ramblas, the central tourist district and arguably heart of Barcelona, and quite close to a metro stop. Because we had inexpensive airfare by using my frequent flier miles, we figured we'd splurge on a nice hotel and live it up a bit. Sadly, this was not the case. While it may claim to be a 4-Star hotel, this place consistently let us down. Yes the room was nice. The bed was firm. The hotel was clean and well-appointed (the complete refurb in 2010 to this 1800's building is nothing short of fantastic). But when it came down to brass tacks, it was lacking. About that room: It was swoopy and beautiful and modern, but exclamations of "Hey, how much do you think this cost?" were almost invariably followed by "Why the hell doesn't it work?" The shower shot out ice cold water at off-peak times. The bathroom sink stops were permanently shut and had to be manually opened (i.e. me holding the drain up) to empty. The TV never seemed to work. A water glass that broke (due entirely to my slippery hands) on the first night was never replaced for the duration of the stay. Most galling though had to be that the climate control didn't work-- well, actually it did-- the heater was always on. Always. So the room temperature when we woke up on our first morning was a positively balmy 26 Celsius-- just a shade under 80 degrees. In our sealed hotel room. at 9:00am. Repeated calls-- at least twice a day for each day of our stay-- to the front desk (in both Spanish and English) were met with varying levels of indifference or indignation-- their general belief was that clearly we were too stupid to operate our thermostat... except that for whatever reason all air conditioning controls were operated BY the front desk, and they routinely turned it off themselves. Now I've stayed in my share of dirtbag hotels including one memorably sketchy place in Mt. Vernon, Missouri where I barricaded the front door with chairs and my luggage for an extra degree of safety-- so I know from indifferent service and cold showers... but I did not expect it in a place that carried a price tag of over $1000 for 4 night's stay.

Upon check out, we politely voiced our displeasure with the hotel, ticking off the numerous problems we encountered during our stay and asking-- again, respectfully but clearly-- if they could "do something to remedy the situation." This was spoken just before I handed the clerk my credit card. He barely looked up, ran the card for the full amount, and mumbled something about how he couldn't help me, but he'd be sure to pass along our concerns to the manager and maybe she could authorize a partial refund. B pulled out her business card-- which rather prominently shows her major, internationally known employer-- and told the guy to have the manager use her contact info. Suffice it to say after 2+ weeks and several additional emails sent out there is still nothing forthcoming from the hotel. Before heading out to Spain, we were warned about the "Barcelona tourist tax"-- the fact that pickpockets would get the best of us, no matter how hard we tried to thwart them. Well, we survived the pickpockets, but still had a run in with a bunch of no-goodniks-- they worked at our hotel.

Coming next-- the GOOD things about our trip-- and plenty of food porn!

Nuremberg Frauenkirche

I took this shot as we were walking home yesterday afternoon through the Nuremberg Hauptmarkt (the market square in the center of town). Here again is the Frauenkirche (Church of our Lady). I've photographed this one before, but I liked how the clouds framed it and the angles. The Frauenkirche was built starting in 1352 and completed in an astonishingly quick 9 years. It does have a dark side to its history though-- this Roman Catholic church was built on the exact site (or the very foundations-- stories differ) of a Jewish synagogue after a pogrom pushed all of those folks out, and you can still see parts of the previous building in the floor design. The church is a lot smaller than it looks, and features what has to be one of the lamest noontime clock displays in all of Europe (my tip to visitors: skip it-- you'll be angry with yourself if you stick around, it's that bad). As far as historical context goes, once a year the Imperial Regalia of the Holy Roman Empire (which was stored in Nuremberg) was displayed for the people to see. The Frauenkirche has been under some extensive cleaning and refurbishment for almost 2 years (hence the netting and construction scaffolding), and it's a vast improvement from what it used to look like.

Sketches Of Spain, Part 1: The Flights

Sorry for the overall lack of posts of late-- too much going on after our return from Barcelona, the preparations for the book swap (see below post) were followed almost immediately by preparations for our current house guest, and I received some fairly downbeat news to boot that I am still trying to process-- so blogging hasn't been a priority. But... people come to this here flog for a dose of snark and commentary, so enough excuses and onto the main entry.

After finally viewing the photos we took in Barcelona (which still need editing, color correction, etc.) I'm not entirely convinced they will merit their own linked photo album-- there's not a whole lot of them, and they seem to be almost entirely devoted to our meals and architecture, like some sort of parallel-universe Talking Heads album. For the nonce (and to get some sort of momentum going), I will attempt to do a few entries detailing some of the aspects of the trip while the pictures get cleaned up and ready. Today's post deals with our comically lousy journey to Spain.

As I mentioned in a previous entry I burned off some old frequent flier miles to get this trip to Barcelona and ended up paying $212 for the honor of these "free" tickets. Add to that the hassle of driving the 90+ minutes to Munich to get to the flight and the €35.00 (down from €50-- we had a coupon!) long-term parking fee, and all of a sudden this cheap flight was starting to add up. For this award travel, we were compelled to fly Iberia Airlines, the national airline of Spain and an international (flies to 46 countries) heavyweight. Because this was indeed an award trip I shouldn't complain much, but these yobs were so consistently incompetent and lacking in any quality I had to share:

- The flights were all late.
- No food was served on a nearly 3-hour flight unless you paid for it-- even water cost 3 Euros.
- You quickly learned from fellow passengers to stand in line for the connecting flight at the Madrid Airport for a full hour before boarding.
- The only option was to take a flight to Madrid-- which is actually 300+ miles past Barcelona, then hang fire in that airport for a couple hours before taking the flight back east (the direction we originally came from).
- Halfway through boarding the Madrid-Barcelona leg, it was announced as "open seating"-- in other words, a free-for-all. This announcement was in Spanish only.
- Veteran Iberia passengers seemed to be aware of the uncaring attitude of the flight attendants (who all disappeared into the rear of the plane as soon as it was airborne) by bringing aboard their clearly oversized suitcases that barely fit into the overhead bins.
- The planes' (aging Airbus A320 models) seating was configured in "economy" mode-- in other words we were crammed in like sardines, and even average-sized me (all of 5'8") was having a hard time getting comfortable.
- Our return trip's 10:00 flight was switched to 9:30, and then merged with the suddenly-canceled-that-morning 8:00 flight.

...and so on. To bring a long story to a close, Iberia has pages of negative reviews on this passenger-generated review website, and I can assure you that if our flights were any indication, they deserve every bit of scorn that's heaped upon them. If anybody is thinking about using Iberia-- and they are one of the cheaper airline options to Europe in what is now the most expensive summer for airfares in history-- please be aware of what you are getting into. To Iberia's credit, they did not lose our luggage and they did get us to our destinations... eventually.

After all that vitriol, I should also give a shout-out to Iberia's subsidiary who took us home for the final Madrid-Munich leg: For every bad thing I said about Iberia, I can say positive things about Air Nostrum. The seats were wide and provided ample leg room. The planes were clean and newer. Drinks and snacks were served. The flight attendants smiled and could speak English. If anybody is looking for competitively priced intra-Europe flights, I'd recommend these guys in a heartbeat.

More Spanish impressions in the days to follow!

Calling All Local Readers...

It's a bit late to bring this up, but any and all local readers of this flog are welcome to join a merry band of like-minded literary lovers and beer enthusiasts for the long-overdue latest version of the Nuremberg Book Exchange on Sunday, May 8 at O'Neill's Pub. This time out, we're expanding the scope and folks can bring their pre-loved DVD's to the swap in addition to their English-language books and magazines. The last turnout was most encouraging-- over 25 people from all over the area-- and this Sunday looks to be a freakishly balmy 75 degrees, and the biergarten will be open. For more information check this post on Toytown Germany for the particulars. And please... no pornos. See y'all there!

Annnnnnd... We're Back

Apologies for the extended period of incommunicado, but the last week has been a blur. After a surprisingly exhausting vacation in Spain (more on that in the days to come), B went straight back to work after nearly 3 weeks on the road, and I had enough loose ends to tie up here over the last few days, culminating with my current bout with a light flu (in 70 degree weather, natch). News to follow, but-- and I can't believe I'm saying this-- it's good to be back in Germany.

Lazy 4-Day Weekend

Friday and Monday are official holidays here in Bavaria (note: Bavaria has more holidays than any other German State-- suck it Berliners!), and the weather has been freakishly fantastic-- almost makes me forget what a long, brutal snowy winter we had. I took advantage of the sunshine to nip around the corner to my local wannabe Irish bar for a pint and a read in their just-opened biergarten (beer garden). That's my new Barcelona guide next to the pretzels and Murphy's Stout, and this upcoming trip looks to be pretty fun. Off to tidy up the place-- B is on her way back home!

Jakob Daniel Burgschmiet

This smaller statue and fountain is a bit off the beaten path, located in front of an apartment complex off of... wait for it... Burgschmietstrasse (Burgschmiet street). Burgschmiet was a local sculptor, artisan and teacher whose works dot Nuremberg and Germany. Burgschmiet also started the Lenz Metal Foundry in 1829, and it's still there today just down from this statue. For photos of some of the foundry's bronze works click here.

Nuremberg: Records Broken Here

I get my hair cut in the not-terribly-close city of Lauf an der Pegnitz (good hair cutters, like good mechanics, are worth tracking down). Lauf is some 25 miles away so I take the train out there every 5-6 weeks or so. While waiting in the Nuremberg train station, they were setting up for the world record attempt of the longest chocolate fruit skewer in the world. The Guinness folks were there, the table was being set up and the excitement was... nonexistent, to be honest. To be fair, I took this photo of the poster some 2 hours before the Big Event so maybe folks were getting psyched about it in private. Never did see the end result, but if this dull YouTube video of the event is any indication, I didn't miss all that much, other than maybe a tasty sugary snack afterwards. I can't find a shred of news about this event-- talk about under the radar world records!

Trompe L'oeil

It's not all that often I can pull out the arty French terms I learned in college-- that Art History degree IS finally coming in handy after all. "Trompe l'oeil" is a term that means "deceive the eye" and here's an example of an otherwise bland apartment building in the southern part of town gussied up with faux monkeys and art supplies. Even the trim below the second floor windows is painted on. Really well done-- click on the pic for a better view. I snapped this on the way to a restaurant named "Premium Junkfood" which featured all sorts of stuff that's bad for you from double bacon cheeseburgers to deep-fried Snickers bars.

Lunch With A View

Click on photo for larger. That was my view the other day as I sat down to enjoy my falafel sandwich (extreme foreground) by the fountain of St Lorenz Church. Those are the spires of St. Sebaldus Church center-left, and the Kaiserburg (Nuremberg Castle) center-to-center-right. As far as the falafel goes, it's no L'As du Fallafel (heck, it's not even Fat Kitty Falafel-level good), but tasty and cheap nonetheless-- lately, I've been averaging a visit there every other week, and they know me by sight now-- I'm the guy who asks for it sehr scharf (very spicy), somewhat of an anomaly around here. As you can see, the streetside views are pretty good too.

Supermarket Find, WTF Edition

Puerile week continues here at TAE, with, um, this stuff. There isn't a whole lot I can add other than Milch is German for "milk," which makes this ever grosser-sounding than it already does (South Park fans may recall the use of the word "milch" for something else entirely-- see the "Oprah episode" for a refresher).

Anyway Dickmilch is a bit of an odd item already, and I'm not sure it has any American counterpart. Basically it's thickened soured milk, and falls somewhere between sour cream and yogurt. I see a Canadian food services company selling this as "Set Milk," and suggests to use it as the starter or base for buttermilk or Gouda cheese.

Going Solo

B left this morning on a business trip to the USA. Under normal circumstances, I'd be a tad jealous, but after viewing her itinerary just for today [Nuremberg to Paris, wait 5 hours; Paris to Detroit, wait 2 hours in that vacation paradise (sorry Cliff); Detroit to Knoxville, TN-- that's over of 22 hours of planes and airport stops], and realizing that this is just the first leg-- after 2 days on the ground in Tennessee it's off to Atlanta for a couple days, then a brief jog to the west coast before coming back here to Germany all in a 9-day whirlwind-- I'm glad to be holding the fort here. In fact, the only thing that grinds my gears is that she'll be staying a mere 0.3 miles from a Waffle House, the southern restaurant chain which holds a siren-like call on me-- I ask: where else can you get a steak dinner and a hot fudge sundae at 5:00am, or a chocolate chip waffle and eggs over easy at 11:00pm? Anyhoo, while I have some work to keep me busy, I rather suspect that the dishes will pile up in the sink, the pizza guy will see me regularly, and the dust bunnies will grow to tumbleweed-like dimensions around the manse. B will be impossibly busy, but did hold out the faint hope that she could maybe do a guest post on the road. Safe travels my dear, and I swear the place will be reasonably clean upon your return!

When "Free" Plane Tickets Cost $200

So B and I are heading off to lovely Barcelona (pictured) in a few weeks-- our first "real" holiday this year, the end of a very busy work stretch for her, and a bit of a capstone for an extremely weird month for me (more on that later, maybe). I've had some frequent flier miles accumulating for some time, and due to this particular airline's general lack of German service and the fact that these reward miles were due to lapse sooner than later, I pulled the trigger and chose to get us some free intra-Europe travel. Or so I thought.

I really shouldn't complain that much, but the airline-- I'll be a gentleman and not name the offending party here-- I'd like to think that I'm above that after all-- ended up charging my credit card $212 for these free reward tickets. In essence I paid for the taxes on the tickets only, plus a ridiculous $50 "assistance fee" which was completely unavoidable for someone in my predicament-- one can not make or claim international reward reservations without operator assistance. While I can begrudgingly see the logic in this airline's procedures, I truly do not appreciate them. Lufthansa, to name but one example, doesn't charge taxes for their frequent flier award travel.

To add a layer of intrigue and insult to this experience, this airline doesn't have any partners that fly into Nuremberg, so we have to hightail it down to Munich to get our reward flight, which means either an additional 56 Euros in train fare or 90+ minutes of driving each way and a roughly equivalent amount in long-term parking fees. The only airline partner that flies from Munich to Barcelona is the notorious Iberia Airlines, renowned for their indifferent customer service. I actually asked about the possibility of flying a different partner, Finnair, which routed the same flight via Helsinki (which is sort of like going from New Orleans to Phoenix via Boston) but no dice.

All in all, I think it'll be an adventure and at the end of the day, what amounts to be 75 Euros per plane ticket is chump change compared to the full fare prices we were looking at. It was so good that we actually bumped up the hotel budget to treat ourselves to the swankiness we deserve. And years of traveling in cattle class has systematically lowered my expectations of the glamor of air travel-- it's Greyhound with wings, really. More on Barcelona as it happens!

Something to Go With Your Dickmann's

Literally one aisle over from the Super Dickmann sweets from a few days ago, we have this curiously salacious-sounding, er, dish. This word is a play on Puten which is turkey-- but this stuff is actually Geflügelwurst--mixed poultry sausage (think liverwurst), and then thin-sliced. Yuk.

Calling Any Computer Geeks...

When it comes to these sorts of things, I sometimes feel like a plugged-in Luddite. In my attempts to get acquainted with some of the more up-and-coming (OK, minor) social media tools out there, I came across Whispurr, a macro-messaging service that actually seems to have features better than the venerable Twitter. Problem is, I can't figure out how to post my "Whisps" (Tweets by a different name) onto this here blog. If there are any computer-type folks out there that can guide me on how to do this, you get my eternal gratitude and a public mention on The Accidental Expat, a fine (if somewhat unpredictably updated) blog read by dozens of folks worldwide. Oh, and if anybody wants to be my Whispurr buddy, I'm "The Accidental Expat" there too-- gotta keep the brand strong, y'know.

Hard To Believe This Is For Kids

Aha, Dickmann's. Basically, they are a soft graham cracker base with 2 inches of marshmallow goo on top and a thin layer of chocolate coating the whole thing-- sort of like a high-rise Moon Pie without the top wafer. The "Special" edition ones have colored sprinkles on top. They are, in a word, disgusting. Oh, and the name is funny too.

Germano-French Pizza

Just before slipping in the theater to see The King's Speech the other week (some movie opening dates here are literally months after they have been released in North America and the UK), we nipped into local favorite Zeit & Raum (Time & Space) for a quick bite. Before I could inhale this, I figured I'd take a photo (food blogging is all the rage, isn't it?) of a regional dish. What we have here is known as Flammkuchen, literally "flame cake." Because this originates in the Alsace region (which longtime readers --and yes, I see you new folks, thanks for stopping by and subscribing!-- may recall in posts like this one and this one is right on the French/German border and has flipped between the countries for centuries), it's known there as the nearly identical flammekueche, and elsewhere (particularly snooty restaurants) as Tarte flambée. Dude, it's really just a type of thin crust pizza. The key with the Flammkuchen is that it needs to be made in a wood fired oven, traditionally of stone or brick. It has a distinct oval shape, and has a very light texture with the crust being pastry thin-- my thin crust aficionado parents would go ape for this stuff--and it's more of a snack or appetizer than a full-blown meal. If memory serves, I had one with peppers, diced tomatoes and diced salami while B had mushrooms and peppers on hers.

You Don't See That Everyday...

Taken this weekend, here's a massive statue outside the Mahler kitchen and housewares store in the downtown shopping district flogging Germany's Meissen brand porcelain.

You Want High Gas Prices? I'll Show You High Gas Prices!

Here in Deutschland, fuel is sold by the liter, and the currency is the Euro, so using the following math, here's what we pay at the pump using gallons and dollars-- this photo was taken yesterday, and Supol is generally the cheapest gas station in the area:

1 Gallon = 3.7854 liters
1 Euro = 1.41075 US dollars (today's rate of exchange)

1 Gallon Diesel costs $7.26
1 Gallon E10 (10% ethanol blend) Unleaded costs $7.80
1 Gallon of Super unleaded costs $8.27

Really folks, you have nothing to complain about. Now you see why small cars like the Mini and the Smart car are so popular, and why over 50% of the cars BMW makes are diesel cars (diesels also get significantly higher mileage). Interestingly enough, according to this report German drivers are strongly resistant to E10 fuel despite its cost savings, fearing that it will harm their car's engine. Feh. Back on the west coast, we weren't even given the option of opting out of it. In what's got to be the best-kept open secret, American gasoline prices are heavily subsidized-- I can't say the same for here. $5.00 gas would be a sweet relief to most Europeans, I can assure you. And if my math is correct, $5/ gallon gas would equate to 0.94 Euros/ liter-- a steal.

Dear European Wine Drinkers: I Apologize

In today's "Supermarket follies" episode, we spot these (cough cough) fine examples of the American winemaking art: Gallo and that staple of 7-11's everywhere: Sutter Home. What? No wine coolers? The tragic/ painful/ funny thing is thaat I took these photos in a pretty highfalutin' supermarket too-- these are pretty much the only American wines we see here on a regular basis. In a strange twist of fate, we ended up talking to one of Gallo's European sales managers the other week at a restaurant-- he seemed a lot more interested in our conversation than the one at his own table, likely because he was an Irishman, everyone at his table was speaking German, and we were talking English. After some pleasantries, we asked what he was doing in Germany. He reared himself up, and proudly stated the following:

Guy: "I work for the largest wine distributor in America. You know who that is?"
Me: "Coca Cola?" [note: Coke owns-- used to own anyways-- a few larger New York State wineries]
B: "Costco?"

When he said Gallo, we oohed and ahhed, and got REALLY interested in the Phad Thai in front of us. Turns out the dude is responsible for military base sales (each base has a Safeway-type store) of Gallo wines, so I figure he's doing OK. I am told that per capita wine consumption in Germany is amongst the highest in Europe (trailing only France), so this stings-- because this stuff is likely all the exposure the locals have to US wines. On a brighter note, I spotted for the first time some non-corporate California Zins and Cabs at the local fancypants grocery this weekend, but there were priced a bit too dear for Johann citizen here-- 18 Euros and up-- That's $25.35 at today's exchange rate.

Photoshop, Do Your Magic

And... we're back. Another successful, short, and intense project in the rearview, and I took a couple days to decompress from it. Actually, in the last week, my cup has runneth over-- an invitation to bid on a project for a Major German Company looms large, more of these smaller jobs are on the horizon, and what has got to be the oddest request happens later today: photo stand-in/ body double.

My neighbor J works as a hired gun for a local ad agency in town, and they are doing some projects with a large local sportswear company. One of the premier athletes in the world right now is that fella in the photo, Argentine soccer player Lionel Messi. For those not versed in soccer, this guy is one of the most recognized people on the planet, and is generally considered the greatest soccer player of all time. He's beyond huge. So big time that he can't make it on down to lil' ol' Nuremberg Germany. This is where I come in. Long story short, they need some guy to be his body-double for a photo shoot, and it was initially explained to me that they would, through the wonders of modern photo composition, place Messi's head on my body. Now, I'm no slouch in the gym, but I certainly do not have the body of an elite athlete-- not even close, let alone a complete mismatch in the skin tone/ hair department (on that front, I am a bit closer to a Swede than an Argentinian). But... these concerns were brushed away. And what of the kids? Legions of fans will be looking at the image thinking it's a soccer titan when in reality it'll actually be... um, a doughy blogger?! Scandalous!

All of these concerns were finally put to rest earlier today when J clarified that I wasn't so much a stand-in as I was a place holder-- in other words, they were mocking up the shot to show the client what they could do and had in mind and this was not destined to be some poster to be distributed worldwide-- they just needed a warm body. Whew, that's a relief, though my dreams of subversive coattail greatness did take a blow. Oh well, at least the photo shoot is catered.

Sprung!

After a particularly lengthy and brutal winter-- I was wearing my down jacket up until a few days ago-- it's sure nice to see that spring is making a go of it. It was flirting with 60-degrees today and the sun was out (finally!) so I tore myself away from work and NCAA basketball tournament updates, and B and I had a nice stroll. Here's a shot of the crocus plants by the Tiergartnertor entrance to the Altstadt using the Tenin Technique (aka "put your camera on the ground"-- I can be such a nerd like that). That's the outer city wall in the background along with the guard and castle towers.

Going Dark For A Bit; Everybody Carry On

Another project for me, meaning long days staring at a computer, and consequently limited time and desire to file blog entries. Expect things to be pretty quiet here for a couple of weeks-- at (optimistic) best, entries will be sporadic. In the meantime, feel free to check out the boffo links on the right side of the page-- all vetted for your reading, viewing and listening (the Deezer link works only in the EU-- sorry rest of the world!) pleasure. See you on the other side!