this non-political scarf is AWESOME!

“Rachel Ray’s Dunkin’ Donuts ad pulled for allegedly symbolizing support for Muslim terrorism”

This article made me laugh out loud.  Then I realized it wasn’t from The Onion and I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself.

But at least Barack Obama can rest assured that racism is not the sole cause of antipathy towards his middle name/Indonesian childhood years.  Because if Rachel Ray, one of the whitest people on the food channel aside from Paula Deen, can be accused of supporting Middle Eastern fundamentalist, I guess no one is safe from the wrath of the religious right.  Rachel Ray!  I doubt she can even spell kaffiyeh, much less define it.  If only these crazy people would follow my blog recommendations and read ‘Stuff White People Like’, they would realize it’s all about making your American Apparal white t-shirt, Seven jeans, and Chucks look different from those of your eight closest friends.  And yes, that goes for men and women.  That’s the beauty of being a hipster.

trials and tribulations

It’s bad enough that I missed Ben and Jerry’s Free Cone Day, but now I have to work on Memorial Day as well!  Granted, Germany did already have three bank holidays in May, but still…we had a bad year, what with Ascension and Labor Day both falling on May 1 and the German government being too stingy to give us May 2 off as well, despite excellent example set by our French neighbors.  And after some weekend calendaring, I discovered all but 5 of my vacation days this year are already spoken for.  25 days just isn’t enough after all.  Plus, my diamond shoes are too tight.

Actually, nonsensical complaints aside, I had an excellent weekend highlighted with shopping trips, Mongolian barbecue, cooking, and my first bike ride outside the Theresienwiese.  That’s right, not only did I take the Red Monster outside the 5 meter wide park paths, we went in traffic, through intersections and tunnels, over hills and vales….and I only hit one pedestrian!  But he was incredibly forgiving, after I explained I had just learned and was still mastering the art of braking.  That incident aside, I am totally the next Lance Armstrong.  Except without the cancer.  Or the ‘roids.

Part of the weekend was also set aside for dumpling making, aka make-your-own-Asian-sweatshop.  Previously, I had insisted on making wrappers from scratch, as it is so much more delicious.  But after discovering the ease and cheapness of store-bought wrappers, I don’t know if the German will agree to spend an entire weekend afternoon cutting out little flour circles ever again.  But hey, this is a sweatshop, not a co-op.  The workers have no voice here.

Back to contemplating the first full work week in recent memory…so, you’re really supposed to come to the office for five whole days?  In a row?

the rules

Two months ago, my boss’ daughter, who attends an international school in Munich, provided me with some Girl Scout cookies.  The German and I have been merrily munching along on Thin Mints and such, until this weekend, when I visited the cellar in a mission to unearth the last treasured box: Samoas.  Hiding them up on the top shelf while the German was still sleeping, I went on with my day, thoughts of caramel, chocolate, and coconut dancing in my head.  Only to look up from a discussion on the surprisingly extensive film resume of Patrick Dempsey to discover the German halfway through my precious box!  Seemingly unaware of the extent of his crimes, he looked up only to say, “we should buy more of these.”

Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Bi-cultural Households, Rule 1: Girl Scout cookies are a special, once a year event, much like Gluhwein and Easter Bunny shaped breakfast loafs.  They cannot be replaced by a quick trip to your local Rewe.

Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Bi-cultural Households, Rule 2:  If something has been hoarded in your cellar for two months and saved for the last possible moment of consumption, clearly it is not meant to be devoured in one go.

Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Bi-cultural Households, Rule 3:  Always buy twice as many Girl Scout cookies as you think you want.

cranky, party of one

Every so often, I feel extremely crabby. Sulking-in-bed-irked-by-humanity crabby. Sometimes the German tries to cheer me up in these situations, saying, “What’s wrong? It’s a beautiful day, it’s almost the weekend, you just received stock units from your company and a bonus – what could be wrong?” But faced with angry demands to solve problems such as “terrorism” or “misogyny” or “natural disasters”, he has learned the only proper response is toss me a hoodie to fend off further attack and beat a hasty retreat.

While there are many reasons for general crankiness, a large part is missing friends and family – although I’ve finally about tickets to visit California, it’s still a long four months away. And though I’ve met nice people, they’re all much more in the “lunch dates” stage than the coming-friday-night-staying-through -sunday-afternoon-pjs-only-except-for-brunch-and-shopping stage that I crave. My greatest advice for future expats would be to bring some kids with you. Because those kids go off to school and make more friends than the know what to do with, who will live in your neighborhood, speak your language, and see approximately 12 times a week, making the progression to the lounging-on-each-others-sofas-wearing-pjs stage so much faster.

Also, even things that bring me joy, such as Germany’s Next Top Model, also make me crabby as I see they are in LA, eating In-N-Out, and one even has the nerve to be sporting Cal gear. Those are my activities. If the next episode features a trip to SF and Kara’s Cupcakes, I am so auditioning next season.

public eavesdropping

Forget lack of TV options and limited bookshops, the greatest disappointment of not speaking the local language is lack of opportunity to eavesdrop on amusing conversations.  I mean, what is public transportation, if not a gathering ground for amusing stories to share at work later?  Sure, I can still take joy in the ridiculousness of Overheard in NY/Overheard in SF, but it’s just not the same.

So one can only imagine my joy to overhear a conversation on the subway this morning that was not only hilarious, but also completely comprehensible.  I was sitting between a punk teenage girl taking advantage of her commute to roll her own cigarettes, and an adorable toddler on his mother’s lap.

Toddler: what are you making?

Child-friendly punk: cigarettes.  I put these on the paper, roll them up, and seal them like this!  Then I put them in my little box with a lighter.

Toddler: Why don’t you light it now?

Punk: Because I can’t smoke on the train.

Toddler: Can I light one?  Why not?

Punk: Because you can’t smoke on the subway either.  (notes dirty look from mother).  Also, because cigarettes are only for adults.  (notes continued glare from mother). And because cigarettes are bad for you.

Toddler: Can I eat the inside?

Punk: No, it’s for smoking.  Outside.  When you’re an adult.

Toddler (to me, noting my chapstick): What’s that?  Can I eat it?

I got to work feeling both amused and proud of my German skills.  It was pretty much exactly like the conversations I have with my German tutor, what with the use of because and giving answers in full sentences instead of yes/no.  So there is hope for public transport yet.  Especially as the MVV, Munich’s public transport system, has just introduced it’s own Missed Connections website.  No longer will I need to be disappointed that Craigslist has not seemed to catch fire in Munich.  Who needs to read the chapter in my German book on describing people when I have a real-life text?

exciting adventure

Today, I take one giant step closer to becoming a real Muenchner.  No, I didn’t have a lite of beer and sausages for breakfast or buy a dirndle.  But I am now the proud owner of a BICYCLE!  For my friends back home in SF, that’s the accessory that goes with the Timbuktu bag.  And you see them next to the Post Street BART entrance, eating What Up Dogs and Specialties sandwiches.  The Bicyclists, I mean, not the Bicycles themselves.

Anyways, going to a school in another district while growing up, and living in progressively hillier cities, I never saw a need for this two-wheeled friend.  But people in Munich are all about them.  Apparently they are “fun” and “nice” and allow greater range of travel than my Chevro-legs.  And the city is littered with bike paths and parks and rivers, so I assume this is also supposed to be “fun”.

My new toy is red and shiny and has a basket.  I plan to add ribbons to the handles and training wheels, which caused the German to remark, “At least we won’t need to buy you a lock.”

Germans here all seem to find it shocking that I have no bicycle and never learned to ride one.  But I don’t think any of my friends know how to ride a bicycle, except A. Frankels.  And I only speculate from seeing her sport those chic velcro pant straps.  Anyways, we have a three-day weekend coming up for me to practice, so I see no cause for all this shock and dismay.  Are German’s just crazy about their bikes or was I just living in a pedestrian bubble?