the world has turned and left me here

a day at the lake

Today is a German holiday, Fronleichnam, so I have the day off. Matt wasn't sure what Fronleichnam celebrated. "I think it's just an excuse to take a day off from work," he said, and that's when you know you're in Europe.

But I'm not complaining. Happy Fronleichnam!

This morning the sun was shining (for once) so I went out to mow our microscopic back yard with the handmower. I churned through lots of little white flowers and moss like an axe-murderer.

Afterwards I started to feel ashamed of my homepage and decided I would revamp the thing. But then Mark, Claudia, and Matt asked me if I wanted to come with them to a lake. One moment I was looking into content management via XML and XSLT, the next I was flying down a German country road at dangerous speeds with the top down and the music blaring.

There are actually wide open spaces in Germany. Lots of them, in fact, you just have to get out of Munich to see them. I was hyper-aware after having two cups of coffee and totally into the moment, excited to be alive. When we got to the lake I unloaded the 20-case of Franciskan Weiss-Bier that I got for 10 Euros the other day (10 Euros!). I thought such a thing would be normal fare for the Germans but in fact my roommates were pretty amused by this and the looks I was getting lugging it around. We ended up taking the long way around the lake to avoid the beer garden, it not being exactly kosher to parade through a beer garden selling Franciskan Weiss-Bier with your own case of the same. My arms paid for it. Matt and I only drank three between us so the other 17 were dead weight.

For me it was a fun-filled afternoon of lounging around, gawking at the casual nudity, and people-watching. A Norman Rockwell boy jumped into the lake, all spindly arms and legs. A father took his toddler for a walk around the perimeter, buffering him instinctively when he got too close to the water's edge. A reclining husband with his hand resting on his wife's back. Two pairs of pregnant women and their two husbands eating and talking. Lovers, everywhere, lovers. People in the early or middle or late stages of being in love.

When we finally settled down, we were behind a thin fashion-designer type and his fantastically-made girlfriend. He was small, looked to be about 40, had close-cropped hair died blonde and a tan hide. To me he was "Versace." His girlfriend was a panther-bodied 20-something. They made no attempt to hide their amorousness. She enjoyed a popsicle and he watched, enjoying it just as much or more so. She poured water on his back and rubbed it in, poured the last drops of beer into his mouth from on high, he reached over and squeezed her buttocks, they slept with limbs intertwined. At any moment, I thought, these two are just going to start going at it, and none of these people around here will even take notice.

I took a walk in the forest. The trees were massive coniferous things with trunks limbless until about 20 feet up, as if to say "we have better things to do than waste our branches on you ground-dwellers." A thick undergrowth of ferns covered the ground. Beneath that, and sometimes breaking through on protuberances that may have once been stumps, was a blanket of moss so full that it felt like I was petting a cat when I ran my fingers through it. Smaller birch-like trees which held their leaves perfectly parallel to the ground punctuated the scenery. The amber late afternoon sun streamed through and it was like the pictures of forests you always see on posters, the kind with little motivational sayings in the corner.

When we left the lake we left fast, rocketing down the windy road through the little country villages and back into Munich. Whoever came up with Fronleichnam, thanks, and I hope this is the way you intended people to spend your day.

pip meets his benefactor

Man, today was pretty darn slow. No one showed up at work until around 11:00 so Matt and I killed time by playing "Scorched Earth" in the coffee lounge on his floor. The coffee stirrers make surprisingly good catapults.

All in all I think about five people came into work in my department. One of them was the fabled Artur Raczynski, who just got back from a two week vacation in Turkey and a trip to China before that. He's the main one I can thank for being here. He was tall, athletic-looking, with slick blond Aryan hair and a tan. Somehow from our emails I had expected an old professorial type, as would befit the lead of the "Industrial Visualization" group, but I couldn't have been farther off.

The weekend cometh. Tomorrow I go into Munich to shop around. I should probably register with the German government one of these days, too, since I should have within 11 days of entering the country and it has now been exactly two weeks. Or maybe I'll just buy some cool German shoes and call it good.

what's 'it' is weird and scary

It seems like it's been a long time since I've heard a new song that I like (excepting the tracks off Weezer's Maladroit and the new Eels Disc, Soul Jacker). Afraid of getting out of touch with the latest stuff, you know, and I catch myself ranting about Nu Metal, bubblegum pop, etc. a lot. To quote the Simpsons (ala Mark Dietz), "I used to be with `it', but then they changed what `it' was. Now what I'm with isn't `it', and what's `it' is weird and scary."

So I brought up the playlists at 93x and The Point, my preferred stations of yore, downloaded KazaaLite, a clone of the file-sharing system Kazaa minus the spyware, and now I'm back in business.

I've also revived the omelette. She was my constant companion last summer until I left her for a strict diet of Grape Nuts. They say you can't go back, but I say they're wrong, and I made a decent one tonight just to prove it. Eggs are not subsidized over here like they are in the States, where I could get them for 38 cents a dozen. Here they're more like 2 dollars for ten.

And you have to put coins in the shopping carts in order to use them. You get them back, of course, but coins in the freakin' shopping carts...

When I visited that big field the other day there was a blue sign on the perimeter with a stick man walking, a little stick boy playing soccer, a car driving, and a house, all slashed through by a giant red diagonal. No walking, playing, or driving I could understand, but the house meant--no building? As if people are going to sneak in during the night and surreptitiously erect a house.

America's best kept secret

The huge revelation for the day was this: no one in Germany has heard Dave Matthews. I asked all my roommates and coworkers and it was all the same. Somehow, amid Ashanti and P Diddy and that crappy new "Get It On" remake and Eminem's latest (geez how many times have I heard that in the last week!), German MTV "forgot about Dave." They even know about Weezer, for crying out loud, but not Dave Matthews, who is apparently America's best-kept secret. Someone asked me, "What kind of music is it?" and then I had the problem that so many other people have had. "Uh, it's like Jazz, but not really, kind of folksy, but not too folksy, you know..." How would you describe Dave anyway? Perhaps the European record execs were wondering the same thing and just gave up on it.

Matt showed me Robocode, a project from IBM that allows you to program robot AIs in Java and then pit them against each other in battle. Think I'm going to try my hand at it.

a new quest

Today I followed the tracks by bike to the place I'd seen by the S-Bahn, a big open field not far from Siemens. Auspiciously I was going to scope it for possible frisbee playing. But when I got there I realized that basically all I wanted to do was visit a big open field. In general no space goes wasted here, every last cubic meter is utilized, and I miss the wide open spaces.

As a kid I always wanted to ride my bike no-handed. I used to hear stories about my Dad in grad school riding home no-handed from the grocery store, a sack of groceries under each arm, and getting his picture taken by some of the neighbors. I learned how to do it the other day, and now I can feel cool cruising down the street with my hands in my pockets, although there really is nothing cool about the ancient bronze-colored bike I'm riding (the "infertilizer").

So I've reached a juncture. I can continue withdrawing into myself, into this weblog, and into programming, into books, or I can undertake learning German in order to socialize with my housemates. Work is fine, I can communicate well enough with the people around me to get the job done, but my housemates are starting to leave me alone, and I speak with them less and less. This life of solitude is great though. It's great to be able to sit down and see a project straight through without any interruptions. It's great to hone my skills, to flex my brain muscles. But will it last? I think that in the end I may regret keeping to myself while I'm over here. So my next big quest, the sequel to the quest for the adapter, is the quest for the "learn German" book.

I've been here before, in this exact same position, trying to decide whether or not to become a hermit for the summer. Last time around I turned hermit. But for some reason now, perhaps because I really could be incommunicado here, the decision stands out in high relief.

I thought about it today and made up my mind. It will be a new quest.

the great exchange

Well, let that be a lesson to me. I toasted my alarm clock by plugging it in without any converter. At least there was an alarm clock already here for me, although setting the time on it is extremely tedious since you must step by the minute from 0:00. It took me approximately 1,000 clicks to set it the first time. I wonder how much clicking (of keys, mouse buttons) I do in one day. Perhaps I'll try to find a program to measure this, and I'm sure it will scare the bejusus out of me when I find out.

Most people try to separate their work from their play--it is the way of businessmen and blue collar workers alike. Even Einstein said something to this effect: "It is best, it seems to me, to separate one's inner striving from one's trade as far as possible. It is not good when one's daily break is tied to God's special blessing."

With all due respect to Einstein, the idea still strikes me as an odd one. Why should I engage myself in something I find odious for 8 hours a day in order to enjoy the remaining 4? Is this really a fair trade? And why must there be an exchange of unhappiness for happiness? Partitioning one's life into two compartments seems unnatural to me, and this economic exchange of unhappiness for happiness makes even less sense.

We are expected to access happiness indirectly through the mechanism of work, but I say forget what you're expected to do. Enjoy your work. Take pride in it. Do what you love to do, whatever it is that you're passionate about, because chances are it's also what you're best at. If you don't like your job then you're wasting your life.

But I suppose if everyone followed my advice we'd have way too many musicians, artists, and professional drug users, and way too few garbage men and construction workers. There are many tasks necessary for the upkeep of soceity that no human would do for pleasure.

So thanks, garbagemen and construction workers and gas station attendants of the world, please forget what I just said and don't start a revolution or anything crazy like that. And definitely don't follow your lifelong dream of becoming a synchronized swimmer, because nobody wants to see that. Trust me on this one.

Captain IRON-Y

Took the S-Bahn to Munich this afternoon. When I resurfaced to the sound of the noon bells in MarienPlatz, the center of Munich, I was standing in front of the Neues Rathaus. This is an enormous neo-gothic city hall built by Mad King Ludwig II in the 1800's. Lots of people were looking upward to see some sort of display that was taking place with little mechanical figures, but I didn't see anything happening and got bored pretty quick. The hugeness and ornateness of the building impressed me but the kling-klanging of little bells did not.

Subsequently I wandered around Munich for about two hours, in search of (guess what) plug adapters. All the shops were way too upscale to sell something as common as a plug adapter. I passed a place with a Lamborghini in the window, I passed Versace, Milano, tons of jewelry shops, and even went down a street entirely taken over by nouveau riche art galleries. I was aware that I looked out of place with my "Computers don't affect kids..." t-shirt, corduroys, and sandals.

But the quest had to continue. Finally, having almost given up, I found myself staring into the window of an electronics store. Inside I obtained four American-to-German adapters for 3 Euro each. I was very happy! It only took me like six trips to find them...

After that I was approached on the street by an attractive girl who claimed to be from Romania. She fed me some story about having a baby at home and needing money, money for pampers, and always ended with a trailing "Jesus saves..." I looked into her beautiful lying eyes for a while and then told her I was sorry. She had turned to leave almost before I finished my sentence.

Back near the Rathaus again I ran into a curious thing. This guy had put on a policeman's suit and painted himself completely chrome-colored, from head to toe, so that he looked exactly like a metal statue. In fact I thought it was one until he moved. On the metal box he stood on were the words "Captain IRON-Y." There was a plate out front, and whenever people dropped coins in he would make different robotic gestures of thanks, then reassume with amazing accuracy the same position he had been in. To the little girls he blew kisses. To the boys he would salute. When someone missed the plate, he would scold them and point to it.

so much depends

Whoah boy, we've kicked the escapism into high gear now. I feel I've descended deeper into the realm of geekdom than I've ever been, and that I really need to get out and stop writing this weblog.

Last night I stayed up too late working on an XML-based random quotes system that I suddenly was inspired to write. Finished and implemented it today (check out the side bar). They must put something in the water here as I've had an unusual amount of energy of late, esp. for consistently getting 5-6 hours of sleep a night. I'm used to about 8. Today I expected to be completely out of it at work but found the exact opposite. It was my first truly productive day; there was no low point.

You may be wondering why I haven't posted a single picture, haven't listed off the people at my house, etc. Well, all this depends on me getting a digital camera. In fact, I've written a poem about it:

So much depends
upon
a digital
camera
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens

Yeah, I'm looking at the few models available for the iPaq, but so far none has really "captured" me. Har har. Okay that pun was dumb, a thousand pardons. The two I've found are the NexiCam and the FlyJacket iCAM. Both have video capture which could be kinda cool.

Tomorrow is Saturday. Going to shop and explore Munich, I think, and may go to some sort of dance party my roommates are talking about.

the long way home

Today I rode back from work alone. It should have taken me 20 minutes, but instead it took me about an hour, because, honestly, I had no idea where I was going. I tried to find the way I've taken in the morning with Matt. At one point I came to a familiar place and felt relieved. Then I realized that it was only familiar because I had passed it no less than fifteen minutes ago, and had somehow gone in a big loop. This woke me up and I started paying attention to the sun.

After an hour on it I decided to christen the bike the "infertilizer" for obvious reasons.

It's time to admit I was wrong: Episode II was good. Though there are still fake plastic acting jobs (Natalie Portman, Samuel L. Jackson), there was no counterpart to Episode I's young turd Anakin, the kid prompted Micah Weaver and I to start MST3K'ing the thing inside of the first half hour. No, this time around some good performances were turned in, notably those of Ewan McGregor and Christopher Lee. And Hayden Christensen as the teenage Anakin also did a respectable job.

The German movie theater was (surprise!) much different from an American cinemaplex. The "kinos" were the size of a high school classroom, about ten seats wide I'd say and a little deeper. I drank a Helles Bier (an original Munich beer) during the show and it was one of the best beers I've ever had. I guess it's no surprise that I enjoyed the movie so much. With a Helles Bier in hand, how could I have failed to?

After the show, I rushed over the the S-Bahn, which for the most part stops running between the hours of 1 and 4 am. Barely missed it. I wasn't about to wait around till 2 am to catch the singleton train back so I ended up taking a taxi, which cost me an arm and a leg. Between the show and transportation I spent way too much for one night.

And now on top of that I'm tired.

"So tired."

"I'm tired of having..."

there was evening, there was morning--the second day

My second day of work pretty much consisted of me installing the compiler and its associated tools...three times. Enough said.

The German guys have this habit of going for coffee in the early afternoon. I decided to come with and to give espresso a second chance, because after all I'm no longer Alan the diluter-with-milk, the coffee-for-pleasure guy, the i'd-always-take-a-nice-crappaccino-over-a-coffee novice. No, this is the wiser, more mature coffee-drinking Alan you're speaking with. The first time I had espresso was over a year ago and I've been through a lot since that day. I've changed. I remember feeling so completely ripped off when I paid three bucks at a Barnes-and-Noble and got handed a tiny shotglass of terrible-tasting black stuff. I confess I didn't really know what it was, and expected them to hand me a big mug of milk or something to dilute it with. The espresso betrayed me.

Today, though, I knew what I was getting into, and I'll be damned if it wasn't alright this time. Next time I better drink it faster. If you hesitate at all, half of your espresso evaporates before the first sip.

Went to a German mall after work with Mark. It was basically an American mall, except that all the stuff seemed cooler to me. The shirts and shoes and stuff are the kind that I am always looking for in the States but can never find, because all they stock is Abercrombie and Fitch and silk dragon shirts that might as well be mumus on a twig like me. There was an entire rack of 32-34 jeans--an entire rack!--and this amazed me to no end. Americans must indeed be the fatasses of the world.

But seriously, from the moment I arrived in Germany I started seeing people more like myself, people who dressed and looked the way I've always intended to dress and look. Except that I still can't communicate with any of these cool-looking people that I see.

Tonight I think I'm going to see Star Wars Episode II (in English, yippee!) with some people from work, even though I've sworn up and down that I don't want to see it. Going for the people (or so I tell myself). But I've got to get going quickly or I'll miss the S-Bahn!

off to see the wizard

My first day of work at Siemens! The bike ride there was a circuitous one that lasted for about 20 minutes. There seemed to be a dominant direction to the trip although I couldn't identify it for the life of me...this country is so non-Cartesian in every way that I've lost all sense of true North. Matt rode with me and had to ride back after work as well, as I realized there was no way I was going to be able to retrace our steps.

When the enormous Siemens complex finally appeared on the horizon, the closely packed streets gave way to a winding road through a green field. Red poppies were growing along either side. I was off to see the wizard...

Corporate Technology (CT), the division I work for, is on the sixth floor of building 33 near the center of the Siemens campus. This morning I met Pablo Gussmann, my project manager, and already have taken a liking to the guy. Most of the day was spent running around from building to building getting documents signed and processed. As a result I now have German Health Insurance. It is very unlikely that I'll actually use it on such a short stay, so maybe I should break my leg or something before I go back in order to get my money's worth.

Lunch was fabulous, and big. I was the last one done, slower even than the French intern who's on my project team, and this seemed to please him. People are always happy to get off the bottom rung. I could have chosen pizza but I went for (what I take to be) more authentic German food, the best dish consisting of small hamburger/sausages with bread crumbs baked into them. After work, though, I broke down and got the closest thing I could to American food. Cornflakes for breakfast, and bread and peanut butter for dinner. There was only one kind of peanut butter but many kinds of Gnutella-like chocolate spreads. Matt claims he's never had a peanut butter sandwich, and I've promised to remedy that.

Of all the people I've met so far, Matt and I have hit it off the best. Still, I realize that we have only talked of the past, i.e. what it's like in my country, things we've done, his job at Siemens, etc. and of the future, i.e. how I should go about getting an adapter, what working at Siemens will be like for me, etc. We haven't really shared any experience "in the moment," so to speak, and this is the stuff that human interaction is made of. You can digest the past a thousand times over and speculate idlely about the future with a person, but you won't really connect unless you interact in the present. You know what I'm talking about. Everyone, everyday, participates in relationships that remain grounded in things past or future, and there's always a feeling of distance in them, because there really is distance there--in time.

But I suppose it is customary to proceed chronologically. First people want to know your background, they want to read your resume and have you write essays about the most important event in your life, they ask you about your parents and brothers and sisters and where you come from. Then if they like what they hear they share the moment. After enough of this, if there is still any shred of mutual respect between the two parties, you are close enough to discuss dreams and hopes and things yet to come.

Looking out the sixth floor window after work I got a good look at the enormous construction project that I saw from the S-Bahn on my first day in Germany. A total of 11 cranes are putting together what I've been told is an office building. It looks more like a shipyard to me. at least at this stage. Rumor has it that the company behind the project has declared bankruptcy, so I'm going to ask around to see what else I can find out about it.

goldkrone

Well, so much for getting out and seeing places and things. Again I wasted away the day in own my little virtual world--an opportunity always present--instead of seeing the world which I'll only be in for the next three months. I decided in the morning that I would start this weblog and finally had it up and running by dinnertime. Exhausted two or three bloggers before one finally worked, and even then configuring the damn thing was a mess.

Everyone came back tonight and we watched "Spy Game" in English together. The guys and I drank three glasses of 28% Goldkrone mixed with equal parts of red Fanta, an experience which one cannot probably recreate outside of Germany. Matt and Mark seemed about as drunk as I was. This was a surprise, and I guess I have my year as understudy to the great Andrew Hammond to thank for it. Andrew, if you're reading this, I thank you from the depths of my...liver?

speak slowly and enunciate as if your life depends on it

Only slept for an hour last night. Blazed through Hesse's Siddhartha and feel a little silly about that. The day was gray but not rainy and I ended up staying inside most of the time, writing long emails. Matt was nice enough to let me borrow the power cord from his radio, and it works with my laptop's AC adapter; it's a temporary fix until I can get to an electronics store.

The only genuine experience I had today was an afternoon walk down to the S-Bahn station for some food. I ate some strudel and had some coffee at a small franchise-looking bread place clearly marketed at the S-Bahn crowd. There were no seats, only chest-high tables at which one ate standing up, with the window not 10 feet from the S-Bahn rails. Behind the counter was an energetic woman who spoke so rapidly I couldn't even tell it was German. I resorted to pointing and nodding and people probably thought I was mute or something.

Programmed a lot today--a comfort thing, I guess. All the same I kind of regret this and should probably make an effort to go see places and things tomorrow.

almost (culture) shocked

I awoke at 4 am with German words streaming through my head, some known, some unknown. Grabbed a book and started reading to silence them. At 5 I went back to sleep, and awoke around 4 pm for a grand total of about 15 hours of sleep. More than I've ever slept in one go before. I think this is not really because I needed 15 hours of sleep, but more an artifact of when I'm used to getting up. 4 pm Munich time corresponds to 9 am Central time.

All the shops are closed for the weekend now (damn!) and I am desperately in need of a power adapter for the laptop. Both Matt and Mark must have left this morning for Munich with their parents.

Ate dinner with them all this evening. Good sausage, bread, and salad, much better than the spaghetti I made for myself last night. When I opened the sauce that I'd just bought several hours earlier at a market, there was mold on top, even though the seal was unbroken. I scooped what I could see off and ate up anyway. The sauce still tasted slightly of mold. Reminded me of that time my freshman year that I let an ordinary coffee filter sit in the maker and discovered a rainbow-colored filter in its place several weeks later. Despite repeated bleachings, coffee made in it had an unmistakable hint of mold from that point onward. Whatever it takes to wake up in the morning, I suppose.

Tonight, in desperation, I took the S-Bahn back to the airport, hoping that the shops would still be open. Alas, they were not, and I returned defeated. All this occurred in one of the worst rain storms that I have ever taken part in. At one point I thought I was stranded at the BesucherPark stop. There was absolutely no escaping the rain, though I tried to in a glass elevated walkway above the rails; it poured out of light fixtures and blew up three flights of stairs from the station below. The lights even went out for a few minutes. When lightning would strike nearby, an audible click like the sound of something powering up would come from the metal handrail, so I was very careful not to touch anything metal in the place. I had no jacket and was freezing cold. At last the S-Bahn came, delayed, and I made my way back to Ottobrunn empty-handed.

across the sea

Toronto to Munich was a blur. I thought it would be a good idea to sleep deprive myself before leaving, so riding on 2 or so hours of sleep I boarded for the 10 hour journey. The food was suprisingly good for airplane food. I sat next to a large white-haired Bavarian with a ruddy Ted Kennedy complexion and exchanged probably a total of 5 words with the man the entire trip. We devoured our food at the same ravenous pace and both kicked back to a beer--Labatt Blues, albeit--after dinner. He was my kind of travel mate, and I hope that I didn't disappoint him in this respect either.

The sunrise heading east was amazing. The first indication of it was a light blue glow demarcating the horizon, which up to then had been indiscernible in the empty blackness of the night, and subsequently this line resolved itself further into a slow red haze that tapered off into yellow and on into a cool blue and was lost in the darkness that still largely enveloped the world. What a color gradient. I realized that we were not flying low to the Atlantic as I had imagined, but rather were scooting along high above a cloud cover with no protecting roof over our heads.

The German landscape is a patchwork quilt assembled pell-mell out of bright yellows, greens, and browns. There is not even the slightest hint of a rectangular grid to it--it is truly and wonderfully unplanned. Oddly enough, rather than single farms sitting lonely on their respective plots of land, the houses bunch together wherever there is a slight depression in the landscape. Going to investigate these places and their country roads as soon as I get the chance.

After some confusion I finally was picked up and showed around Startlodge, where I'll be living, by Brigette du Mesnil de Rochemont, the landlady. Too tired to really appreciate the peculiarities all around me. The smallness of all spaces is one thing that stands out. Yards, houses, streets are all quaint and confidential. The neighborhood I live in has wonderful greenery which I can only compare to the neighborhood Scott and I discovered at the top of the Incline Railroad in Chattanooga, Tennessee on our Spring Break road trip to the American south. Quiet and huge draping pine trees, flower beds, shrubberies, etc. Everything very well looked-after.

Feeling strung out and like going to sleep, especially since I want to be alert and taking in all this to its fullest, but have decided to stay up until nightfall here, which is a ways off yet.

Matt and Mark are the only two interns around. Both speak English much better than I speak German--which I've discovered is hardly at all--so that's what we converse in. It's a holiday weekend and their parents are going to visit beginning tomorrow. They decided to mow the back yard, as it's overgrown with tall dandelions and daisies. We laughed about using an antique hand mower for the job. The gas mower, however, turned out to be a grass vacuum in both size and speed, so they resorted to the joked-about hand mower. It was much faster. The yard is very small by Midwest standards and it looked like the first time they'd mowed it...two things which help explain why they had such a blast on the job.