InterNations, Hosted by Maximus, or Seximus or Mexical... or something

Bev is a Brit and Katrin´s a Germ

This place is the station that got me to the event.
It looks like the Cowboy´s stadium and is just as confusing.

 Dear Curious,

This is Julian. He´s not only good looking, but he also has a British accent (because he´s British)
AND he´s a writer, so he´s interesting, too. Keeping him away from Mel, for sure.

Shenay is a PHD (or is working on it). Shenay speaks Turkish
and is helping to make cancer drugs cheaper. That´s great,
Shenay, but how are you helping me?

Yes, now that you ask, I do quite like going out and meeting all sorts of people from all sorts of different lands, asking them where they are from and what makes that so different from here or Texas.

Really, meeting people started at work today where I met the last of the bosses. Volker (pronounced `Folkah`) to myself and two other fellows who are rather good at chatting out to lunch today. I can´t say I think that went splendidly, but it happened anyway, now didn´t it? I made good conversation at least, but I need to keep my bloody mouth shut about politics, I think. Nobody cares if you´re conservative or liberal except you and those that oppose you, ya dumbard.

The InterNations event went swimmingly, I suppose. I more or less verified that I can talk to pretty much any soul that I decide to talk to and I have several numbers and names to prove so much. I like this idea of "Idiot America" as it gives me a sturdy crutch on which to lean. If something is terrible in America, I blame it on Bush. But mostly I act excited (and when I say àct`that´s mostly ingenuine because it´s actually quite genuine) to be talking to people with honestly different viewpoints than myself.

I would like to thank my girlfriend for being awesome at this time. Without even being there she has helped me make friends as I have promised the presence of a truly interesting and funny person at my side in just a couple of weeks. It´s like saying over and over again, "Oh yes, William Faulkner, one of the great American authors should be by visit me in so-and-so time. You really should drop in to say hello." I really don´t think they´ll be the least bit disappointed. Good news. Some of them have British accents!

I´m sleepy and there´s more stuff to do tomorrow, including meaningful work (honest yay!). I hope this blog reaches many other happy people. If it doesn´t hit you as happy, consider a trip out of the US.

Ich bin auf einem Schiff, Schlampe!

I feel a good bit better now having just gotten back from my first social event since I got here. I talked to Germans and Taiwanese and French and Americans.

The German girl told me about an English teacher she met that also had the same problem with Germans that I do. It was so hard for her to meet people that after 5 years she had few friends. Apparently, she just gave up. I guess I should take that as a que. Somehow she managed a boyfriend, though. The girl I was talking to was particularly surprised about this because, according to her, German men are going through a phase in reaction to general changing gender roles, making them shy toward women so it´s rare to be approached by one. Good. Fewer Germs to hit on my girlfriend.

The Tai girl had been studying "Egyptology" for the past 10 years and was hopefully within 2 years of finishing her dissertation. I didn´t bother asking her what she planned on doing with that degree b/c I didn´t want her to tell me she still didn´t know.

One French dude was getting over his previous employment with Exxon, but he knew 5 languages and was in the process of learning Russian (a very hard language). Another thought it was a very fun game to make me guess what country his grandparents were from. Turns out it´s not really a freaking country, it´s some extension of France from much time back. Guadalupe, I think. Ring a bell to anyone?

The American guys were from Verginia. They were just there for 2 weeks so who cares about them, but the organizer, Charlie was actually from Seattle. I could tell by his teeth that he drinks a lot of wine, so he must be a merry old soul.

Finally, another German told me about his past work in male contraceptives... and how they failed pretty miserably. So a swift kick to the crotch is still the best method. But he´s in the biotech industry and he gave me some pointers on what I might direct my career toward.

Anyway, none of that even freaking matters, but I´m just so happy to have been able to talked to people that I felt I had to write about it. I think I´ve found something to do on Wednesday nights.

Dear Curious,

Germany hates Wal-Mart.

The very same person who has encouraged me into writing a blog and has further encouraged me to try to make it interesting as opposed to completely self-serving has also warned me that those who use their blog to whine and bitch about why they don´t get everything their way are quickly discarded as the ugly crap they write. Thus, this wise person has saved you from much gnashing of teeth. So instead of crying about my pathetic experience, I am instead writing a cautionary guide for would-be travelers and a fragmented tale of hilarity for those who enjoy seeing others humiliated and convulsing with fear.

I´ve spent many years turning my grocery shopping into a coordinated dance, charging through the self-checkout lane in a masterful glissade cutting through the cumbersome masses. So I was very hesitant to enter Germany´s stores since I was aware that the familiarity that gave me such grace in America was certain to be absent, making me no better than the grandma in front of you who pulls out her checkbook and then, after searching for a good while, asks if she can borrow a pen.

So here´s why you´ll be pleading for a Wal-Mart after you stop by your local German grocery:

1) Don´t expect to see a single familiar brand. If you´re lucky, the pickle jar will still be see-through, which will be endlessly helpful if you don´t understand German. If it looks like octopus, it´s probably just sauerkraut, but it´s best not to get it, all the same.

2) No family-sized packaging here. All the pre-packaged meat comes in 100g portions so you know that 30% of what you´re paying for is plastic. I think this also has something to do with why they´re so skinny. Likewise, you can´t buy even 2 bars of soap in the same package.

3) You´ll probably put this unpleasant business off for a while so that when you get there you´ll have a lot of stuff to get. DON´T DO THIS! The first couple of times you go through the line, get 1 or 2 items. This will make you less susceptible to the horrors they have in store for you at the checkout. Unlike the broken spirits at Wal-Mart who have to show at least some similitude of courtesy when you screw up, these people are obviously trained to let you know that you´re a complete asshole.

4) The checkout attendants are very efficient. This would please us in America, but in Germany they don´t bag your items so you´re an asshole for trying to bag your frozen items all in separate bags from you´re squishy vegetables as they zip each item past the scanner at light speed.

5) Of course your first time through you´re not even sure how the hell you´re supposed to bag your stuff up because they don´t provide bags for you at all. You know that crazy initiative to use less plastic on grocery bags we have in America? Yeah, completely compulsory in Germany. They´ll sell you a crappy bag as your your items first stack up just beyond the scanner and then spill out onto the floor as the cashier and everyone behind you starts to become seriously convinced that you are a total ignoramus... and asshole.

6) It turns out that it´s an important thing to check before you go in with a big long list of things to get and no cash in your pocket, whether they take credit cards or not. I´m not yet certain why Germany is so far behind America on accepting electronic payments, but they are. Note that they are behind, but to every single person, impatiently waiting for you to stop being an idiot American, you are undoubtedly the biggest asshole on the planet for not being able to pay for this ever-growing mountain of cans and bottles of stuff--whose contents you are genuinely unsure of--that are piling up at your feet because you don´t even have a bag to put them in!

Some days are harder than others, is all.

On a side note, as I end this, and as you contemplate how nice it will be to go to a familiar store in the near future, please put it on your "to do" list to smile at someone. Don´t just smile around them, hoping they´ll notice, but direct it straight at them so that there´s no way they can escape it. What you´re likely to get back, if you can manage to make it a genuine smile and prevent yourself from instead delivering a frightening grimace, is a reaction of slight shock and perhaps a moment of appreciation, and if you are very lucky, a smile in return.

Cherish this return. Because this is unheard of in Germany.

I played around with smiling directly at people today and yesterday and found that 98% of all people have absolutely mastered the sudden eye glaze, followed by a 60 degree head turn just before eye contact can be made. The person, even standing still and directly in front of you, can then somehow continue to avoid eye contact even as you actively try to engage them almost indefinitely. This is very different from Texas. Just try it out and see what I mean. People are reluctant in Texas, but not frightened.

In the future, look for significantly more upbeat posts such as Berlin Graffitis Tradition into Oblivion, and Ruthless Killers are Hungry, Too.

Come on Germany! I´m trying to look up to you here.

A Warm and Previously Unusual Welcome to Berlin

Dear Curious,

I´m not going to make it much of a personal goal to try to get through everything I´ve experienced or thought thus far because that would just bore you after too many lines, no matter the content. That´s really just a concession I had to accept I´d have to repeatedly make when I chose not to pursue the role of an author in my professional career. I can hear some of you sighing a breath of relief all the way over here in Germany.

The first thing I noticed as I flew into Germany is that they decided not to chop down all their trees like we did. Even as large as Berlin is, it seems as if they still tried to “nestle” the place into the woods, as if it were built by a team of industrial fairies straight out of Fern Gully.

The second thing I noticed is that I was able to notice the first thing as I flew in at 9:30pm. It doesn´t get dark here until nearly 10:30, then the damn sun comes up at just after 6am, meaning there´s plenty of light in the sky during the 5 o´clock hour. “None to worry,” the locals assure me, “during the winter the opposite happens,” producing temperatures of as little as -20 degrees Celsius (which is far lower than -20 Fahrenheit).

German folks appear to be significantly taller and skinnier than the typical Texan. I´m right around average height in Texas and probably America. I can almost always look around the room and find the same number of people shorter as are taller than me. But in Germany, I feel like a midget. My initial guess is that people are on average a full inch (and perhaps 1.5”) taller. And as far as weight goes, I´ll simply say that I haven´t seen a single person I believe even might be over 300 pounds. Of course they don´t have Wal-Marts for these people to congregate in either.

I´ll end by retelling an unexpected first Berlin presented me with today. I decided to strike out into unknown territory and just get lost on the rail and get out wherever I finally got dizzy. I emerged at a little station exit named Kurfürsten-Straße. There wasn´t anything particularly dazzling about the place, but I pressed on, anyway.

As I turned a corner I became aware that a girl was meandering strangely around a parking area. She gave the impression she was trying to get my attention, but she made no overt gesture to indicate so much so I walked along pondering the occurrence and keeping her in my peripheral vision, noting that she had definitely altered her course toward me.

Then I became aware of a regularly dressed, small and Hispanic-looking girl just in front of me who was also walking my way, making eye contact as she moved. This was very noticeable, as one of the quickly defining characteristics of the German people seems to be that they stick to their own business. Then she asked something her German accent that I couldn´t quite make out.

I asked politely, “I´m sorry. What?”

Abandoning her first attempt, she responded with an equally polite smile and quick but slightly hesitant answer in a different wording,  “Sechs.”

For those of you not studying the German language, this means “six.” Immediately I understood. She was obviously an undercover Sesame Street character peddling out the daily wares. And while I have to admit that six is one of my favorite numbers, I just wasn´t in the mood for it at the moment and politely declined her offer with a, “No, but thank you!” feeling as if I gave a strange emphasis to the thanks.

As I continued to walk along I continued to notice a multitude of other high-heeled ladies who had obviously been affected by the children´s television show as much as I was because they were all very friendly and eager to make eye contact. Despite this, I felt the strange sensation that this wasn´t the best part of town. And since I had my passport on me, I felt it wise to move on to a safer feeling area.

So thanks to Berlin for introducing me to the Sesame Street mafia. That´s a very memorable first for me.

And a few pictures to keep you visually stimulated...

That´s right. Just about every street corner and yard has a
purple and green spotted cow, complete with golden udders.

Of course when we park on the sidewalk in America we get ticketed.
They totally EXPECT you to here. 

My German still isn´t great, but I´m pretty sure this means
"Playground out back"