You fest, We fest, Let's Oktoberfest!

Last month, I went to Oktoberfest.  It's taken me a month to write about because, there's honestly a lot to process about Oktoberfest!

Living in Bavaria, and so near to Munich, taking part in Oktoberfest seemed a no brainer. I tagged along with my friend S (and fellow Vancouverite!) and her boyfriend M one fine Saturday afternoon. M used to work in Munich and part of his job used to be to entertain people during Oktoberfest. He was literally, the walking Wikipedia of Oktoberfest. Suffice to say, that thanks to them, I had the BEST first timer experience you could have.


First stop was at the Sheraton, S & M were staying overnight there. While they were checking in, I met this hottie in the glass case of the lobby. I decided he was coming home with me. I also bought one for S&M. I named them Hans and Franz. The lady behind the front desk did look at me oddly when I requested 2 male ducks (they had females but weren’t nearly as sexy as Hans & Franz) I had to tell her they were going to be brothers and not a couple.


It’s hard to beat Hans' sexiness

With Hans in tow, we headed to the Theresenwiese, basically the “fair grounds” where Oktoberfest is held. It was 2pm on a Saturday afternoon. In my first five minutes, I saw these people laying on the grass. It could be they were taking a nap, but I’m pretty sure they weren’t. Also, I saw a girl get rushed on a gurney with an IV in her arm. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with the beer they served…

                                             Theresenwiese

not napping...

Now, people make reservations a year in advance to get into the tents. And if you don’t have reservations, you have to be in the tents at the crack of dawn. However, M is a superstar and knows people. So bearing gifts, S&M and I got into a tent thru the backdoor, like rockstars. I was impressed.


The tents are massive and loud. Almost everyone is dressed up in lederhosen and drindls. In the center there is an oompa band and they play “ein prosit” about every 10 minutes. If you only drink when they play “ein prosit” you’ll be on the floor in an hour.

At Oktoberfest, each tent only sells the beer of the Keller (or the brewery) that owns the tent. Beer comes in one liter “mas” and the beer is about 7% alcohol. Crazy tourists think that they have drank only 3 beer, but that’s really 3 litres of beer. It goes without saying that the washroom lineups are massive.


Even though I’m a Canadian living in Bavaria, I haven’t been able to stomach beer since an incident involving sleeman’s and bubblegum when I was 20. So I was prepared to only be a spectator at Oktoberfest. Again, because M is a rockstar, the waitress friend of his managed to smuggle me in a bottle of prosecco. So I drank Prosecco from a mas.

The Germans take their beer drinking very seriously. Oktoberfest is basically a time where you sit. And drink. It’s too loud to have a real conversation. But they did think ahead and thought 6 hours of straight drinking might get old so they worked in some exercise. A mas cup easily weighs 2 lbs. So every time you take a sip, you’re burning calories and strengthening your biceps. Since it’s too loud to talk, you just sing. The Germans may complain a lot in real life, but get them drunk and they sing. Far better than the English if you ask me. Get them drunk and they just pick fights!

At this point, Hans was feeling neglected and thirsty so he got it on the action. Unfortunately, he overdid it a bit…

The man (cause you know it was) who invented the mas was smart to make it out of glass. You see, there is a lot of cleavage around thanks to the girlies in their drindls. As a matter of fact, it’s no small feat of defying gravity to get those babies up and out (I failed- even Victoria’s secret best is no match for the dirndl bra, noted for next year) The glass bottom of the mas cup also doubles as a magnifying glass. If you’re a guy and you’re smart, you sit yourself opposite a girl with nice cleavage and you drink. Every time you take a sip, her cleavage is magnified in the bottom of your glass. As a result, every time I had a sip of my prosecco, I saw S’s cleavage. I’d show you a picture, but I’m pretty sure she’d kill me.


You’d think that Oktoberfest is a beer celebration and you’d be wrong. It’s in fact a wedding reception. The fact that the wedding reception is 17 days long and has been celebrated for 200 years is beside the point. There is lots of Oktoberfest food to be sampled, the most famous being “hahnchen” or roast chicken, but I was too busy people watching and drinking prosecco to take part in any of that.


The evening ended with me taking the train back to Nurnberg and this was arguably the best crowd watching if uncomfortable 2 hours I spent. I’ve never seen a train so full in my life. I was standing in the compartment between the two trains with 30 of my new closest drunk friends. At one stop, a young fellow couldn’t take it and stopped to vomit at the stop. He clearly took too long, because the train left without him. One couple was standing so close to each other, they decided they may as well make out. Despite the fact I was 20 years older than them, I think they may have wanted me in on the action. Or at least that’s the impression I got every the guy tried to grab the girl's breast and mistakenly (or drunkenly) tried to reach for mine.


I’m still reeling from my Oktoberfest experience and I still don’t get the point of dressing up and drinking. I guess it’s sort of like Halloween except everyone’s wearing the same costume. I do recommend it though as a once in a lifetime experience, but be careful, don’t fall asleep napping on the hill, rumour has it your wallet has a high chance of getting stolen during your nap!

Why I traded this for that

Before- Last year, my commute to work was 10 minutes and looked like this

This year, my commute is 40 minutes and looks like this

9 months ago, I moved from Vancouver, Canada (we like to call it a world class city since we hosted the Olympics even though we riot the city when we lose big hockey games) to Nurnberg, Germany (famous for cookies and WWII trials). My commute went from a 10 minute drive involving a bridge and ocean inlet and views of mountains. Now, my commute is a full half an hour longer (to be fair it is usually 30 minutes, but because of never ending German road work is 40 minutes) and involves driving thru garlicland (the literal translation) and being stuck behind tractors.


While I was stuck behind a tractor this morning (I had time to kill since he was only going 10 km/h) I got to thinking… “how was it again that I traded in that for this?” add to the mix a tough settling in phase and I was going to start to look crazy by arguing with myself. In my car. On the way to work. Behind a tractor. But then it hit me. No not the tractor! The reason I moved here. I WANTED A CHALLENGE. Sure, I came from a world class city that was beautiful and had a decent job with a great company but after 7 years of feeling “comfortable” I decided I needed to shake it up. There was nothing WRONG with my life nor was I running from the law anything and to be fair a lot of people thought I was crazy for leaving it. But I was stagnant. And I wanted to be stagnant no more.


If I did the math, it seemed like a perfectly logical move. Stagnant at work, stagnant in my personal life, no financial or relationship ties and a big world class company comes calling for my skills and moves me (and my dog Lucy) across the world.


So yeah, some things are and have been 100 times more difficult than I could have ever imagined, but at the end of the day, I got what I wanted. A challenge. So who am I to complain… right? Then again, I do live in Germany which is essentially the birth of complaining so if I didn’t have something to complain about, there’d be something wrong with me!

The Great Cockblock

When people ask me what life is like in Germany, it’s hard to put it into words. There’s no ONE thing that makes me want to pull out my hair and sometimes life here can be pleasant. But if I had to sum it up, it’s that daily life is one. Big. Cockblock. For those unfamiliar with the term, wikipedia defines cockblocking as:

"To cockblock is to prevent another person, intentionally or inadvertently, from having sexual intercourse with a third party. A cockblock, or cockblocker is a person who engages in such obstruction or intervention. According to an article by a freelance writer, Joshua Bernstein, in the New York Press, cockblocking is a "foul act in which someone interferes with another’s attempt at finding happiness inside someone’s pants."


 It's kind of like a road block, but not for roads. After thinking about it, I think the cockblock is the perfect metaphor for life in Germany and I’ve even broken it down into different types:

The language cockblock-

First and foremost. This is obvious. If you can’t understand what’s going on, that’s an instant cockblock. To be fair, I did expect this to happen and it obviously happens daily. I get language cockblocked at work (though this one really isn’t necessary because we are supposed to work in English, but people forget) cockblocked by mail, phone calls, newspapers, you name it. After nine months, I accept this cockblock, that’s just part of life in another country.

The bureaucratic cockblock-

Hands down, this is one of the most frustrating things about living in German. Heck, even the Germans complain about the bureaucratic cockblock (just maybe in different words…)

Example 1- my collegue’s computer died. In order for her to get a new one, she had to find a form no one knew where to find, get said form signed by 4 varying levels of managers and wait. That was 6 weeks ago. It turned out it was the wrong form (where no one knew where to find) and now she has to repeat the process.

Example 2- My famous plumbing experience. In order to get workers to come, the hausmeister had to call the project management company, they then sent out a guy to do an estimate, the guy reported back to the project management company, the project management company told the insurance company, the insurance company approved each repair and told the project management company, the project management company called the contractor, the contractor called the hausmeister, the hausmeister called the landlord, the landlord called me. Now, this process had to be done for 6 different workers. I’m still not ok with the fact it took 3 months, but I understand.

Example 3- I had to get a form signed by work. I needed to get pictures done, my manager to sign it and some lackey in some office to sign the paperwork. Now, of course there was no procedure that told me the order of preference they wanted these down. So I found myself at the lackey’s office 3 different times. Instead of him telling me, get picture, fill in form, get manager to sign, see me at the beginning, it was a guessing game.

Example 4- Cancelling contracts. German rules around contracts are extremely bizarre. If someone (ie a telemarketer) were to call you, you could unwittingly get into a contract (especially if you’re dealing with said language cockblock) But getting OUT of a contract in Germany is a whole thing onto itself. In order to cancel most contracts, you need 3 months written notice (there’s even a website- www.abo.de which has preprinted forms ready and tips on how to do it) If it’s a YEARLY contract, you have a window of about a month to send in your 3 month written notice. I’ve heard nothing but cockblock stories about contract cancellations and I’m dreading my first one.

Example 5- Though I hear this is a lot better than ten years ago, in Bavaria, they still mix the whole church and state thing. This is great for holidays, we get 12 of them a year, but you can’t do much on the holidays. Nothing’s allowed to be open. Nor are stores allowed to be open on Sundays or after 8pm. Home from a late night of work and out of groceries? You’re cockblocked.

The physical cockblock-

This sounds bizarre especially for such a first world country and I still can’t understand why it is, but it somehow is. There exists a sort of physical cockblock in this country. I’ve described this to German collegues and friends and though no one was consciously away of it, they eagerly agree it exists. Case in point:

When there is a sidewalk and a group of people are walking, they will walk in a line across the width of the sidewalk. Courtesy would indicate that if you are 4 or 5 abreast on the sidewalk and a person is heading your way, you part to let them pass. Not here. You’ll get pushed off the sidewalk. I call it sidewalk mafia mentality. It’s the same deal for elevators and trains, courtesy indicates let people off, before letting people in. Not here. S/he who is the pushiest wins.

After nine months of the physical cockblock, I’ve stopped being mad. It’s obviously not part of the culture and if people aren’t aware of this, it’s hard to be mad for something that’s not inherent. But it still annoys the shit out of me!

On their own, none of these is a dealbreaker and hardly the end of the world. However, dealing with cockblocks daily is just part of every day life here. The next time I’m at a bar and I see a guy get cockblocked, I might raise my glass to him. I know what it’s like, if in a different way!

Fun with German!

It’s been nearly 9 months now that I’ve been living in Germany and my German is starting to improve. Don’t get me wrong, I can hardly have a conversation in German, but I can make appointments in German- on the phone, without humiliating myself and I don’t break out in a cold sweat at the grocery store when they ask me one of the 5 different ways of either “Is that all?” and “do you need a bag”.



Despite my noticeable improvements, I still sound like a 4 year old and I do primarily live in the now. Not because I read some 70’s hippie book of living in the now, but because my verb conjugating skills only extend to the present tense.


Like when I learned Spanish, I’m finding German vocabulary “fairly” reasonable to learn. Even if I’ve never heard the word before, I can make a reasonable assumption of what it means, a lot of the nouns seem to be similar to either English or French or have a root from another German word. Sentence structure has been my enemy though. The sentence structure is not at all like any language I know and the fact that two verbs can (mostly) not be together is weird. One verb seems to always be at the end. It’s like when they were developing the language, they decided that the listener should pay full attention to the speaker and wait til the end of the sentence to know it’s meaning. Why else would you have a verb at the end? Makes no sense!


Speaking of whomever developed the German language, I do know they must have had a bit of a sense of humour, because some of the words are cute. Herewith, are some of my favorite German words I’ve crossed paths withs….






German Word               English Word                         Literal Translation


Auspuf                           exhaust pipe                          out puff


Handshuhe                    Glove                                     hand shoe (not  exactly rocket science!)


Krankenschwester        Nurse                                    sick sister


Operlipbart                     Mustache                            Over lip beard


Brustwarze                      nipples                                breast warts (more creepy than cute!)






Then there are just instance where there might not be a literal translation, but it’s wrong. Case in point, the picture above. I knew that saft was juice, but when I saw dick saft? Well, it was just creepy. I’ve since discovered that dick is thick. And so, it’s thick juice. But still, it seemed far more perverted at first glance!

The independent women’s conundrum

Recently, I was having a conversation with a single guy friend of mine who was saying that it was harder than ever to figure out women these days and argued that a generation or two ago, it was easier, because men and women had more clearly defined roles. It’s true, back in the days of my grandparents, men were expected to be the providers and women the caretakers. Then came my mother’s generation and the women’s revolution. Women started breaking away from tradition and hung up their apron strings (at least during the day) for jobs. Thanks to the hard work of the women of my mother’s generation, I grew up believing I could be and do anything I wanted thanks to the cracking of the old glass ceiling and equal opportunity laws.

Perhaps because I was a product of a single parent home, I grew up believing that I didn’t “need” a man for anything. My example was my mother who raised 3 kids, worked all day and would rewire the vacuum when sparks came out of the old plug and knew how to install a dimmer switch.

Enter my adult dating life. I’ve been dating since I was 18 and to say I haven’t been successful is an understatement. Could it be because I don't “need” someone, this vibe is somehow picked up by everyone I’ve dated? Interestingly, when I was an emotional basket case in my 20’s, this somehow seemed more attractive to guys. Were they the wrong guys? Or was it just that because men haven’t (arguably) gone thru such a major role shift, that they still think their place is that of the role of provider?

There’s a lot being written these days about modern men and they are struggling to find their place. Before, being a middle aged white guy was the dream. You would almost be assured a good job (white or blue collar), have a nice home in the suburb with a stay at home wife and 2.2 kids. Us women have embraced our role shift of the past 40 years, but have men?

For most of my adult life, I’ve lived independently and felt fairly proud of myself for doing it all “without the help of a man”. However, what I’m starting to realize at the ripe age of 38, is that just because I CAN do it alone, doesn’t mean I WANT to do it alone. For me, moving to Europe was my eureka moment. I had moved several times and set up apartments before, but this time, it really hit me. It.is.really.hard.to.do.it.alone. And suddenly, I realized how with a partner, dragging ikea furniture up 3 flights of stairs, calling help lines and hanging up pictures could be at least a little bit easier. Sure, I didn’t NEED someone, but god, wouldn’t it be damn nice to have someone help you with that damn ikea cabinet you just dragged up three flights of stairs only to watch the box break from the top of the stairs and see all that chipboard go sliding back down to the bottom…

I’m not looking at this shift of belief as “giving in” or going back to tradition. There’s no way I want to be barefoot and pregnant wearing an apron and greeting my man with a manhattan and a kiss when he walks in the door, but I am willing to relinquish some of my…independence. God, did I just write that? Giving up the independence that was so hard won? Ok, maybe not give up independence so much as share. Maybe the ideal modern relationship isn’t so much based on traditional roles but more like a business negotiation. Maybe these days, once you get past all the lust and wooing it goes a little something like this:

Partner 1: “ok, so I hate dishes, but I’ll cook”

Partner 2: “Perfect, I hate cooking. How about laundry”

Partner 1 “I’m good with laundry, if you look after car maintenance”

And so on and so forth… It’s hardly a romantic approach, but I can go on and say how I think romance is dead anyways. I am of course focusing on the practical approach to things. Us independent women may gag at Hollywood romance movies and though we don’t “need” someone who can argue that having someone you look forward to coming home to is a great feeling.

All I know is that for me, moving halfway across the world has softened up my views on being the strong independent female, and yes, I CAN do it alone, but god, it would be so much better to have someone around who in addition to being a great companion can install a dimmer switch.

Heaven is a place on earth...

Last month, one of my best girl friends, J, was in Italy for trade shows.  Since she was there, we decided to meet up and do a mini vacation together.  Since hearing about it ten years ago, Cinque Terre has been a dream destination of mine.  Surprisingly, Cinque Terre is "relatively" untouched.  It's a UN heritage protected zone and since the write wrote about Cinque Terre a few years ago, it has gotten a lot more popular, though it still has kept it's charm.  In Cinque Terre there's not a single chain restaurant or hotel.  All of them appear to be small locally owned places.  I had high expectations of Cinque Terre and I'm happy to report, it lived up to them.

J and I are unconvential tourists, so of course, we did it unconventionally.  Typically, most people start at the first town from La Spezia: Riomaggiore and make their way to Monterosso.  But the distances are so short between the towns that by train it takes no more than 20 minutes from Monterosso to Riomaggiore and you can even hike in between the towns.  Though hiking between the towns sounds cute and charming (and mostly is) unless you want to feel like a donkey, opt for leaving your luggage at a home base, between the heat, steepness of some of the terrain and incredible views, lugging luggage is going to be the last thing on your mind.

 For the first two nights, we stayed just outside the five lands up in the hills above Framura.  We stayed at a family run small b&b above the hills of Framura. 

Each of the towns has their own charm.  For instance, Mannarola is best for beaching.  Most of the town is along the ocean and for less than 10 euros, you can rent a chair and umbrella and spend a day on the medditeranean. 

Vernazza, is the most commercial of the town and probably the easiest accesible.  You can walk from the train station to the harbour in no time and pass thru all the shops (Vernazza has the best shopping)

We didn't make it to the middle town: Corniglia, for a number of reasons.  We ran out of time and it was the hardest to access.  The trail between Manarola and Corniglia (the easiest way to get to Corniglia) was washed out and we didn't want to spend the effort to find another way to get there!

Manarola had the biggest harbour, but the town felt a bit disjointed.  The town was divided into upper and lower parts but we enjoyed some good eats along the lower parts near the harbour where there were some amazing sunsets!

For 3 nights, we rented an apartment in Riomaggiore.  It was high on the hills above town (read- lots of stairs up) had 2 balconies and a tremendous view of the medditeranean.

On our last night in Riomaggiore, we experienced quite possibly one of the more random sights... it was an end of season street party in front of the train station and the town put on a foam party.  Having never been to a rave before, this was a new experience for me. So when I was all the sub 10 year olds playing in the foam, I was the first adult to join in.  Many other adults, happily followed me and there we were.  In the middle of one of the most beautiful places on earth, throwing foam (and having foam thrown at us) by 8 years olds. 

It was a sad place to leave and a month later, J and I still envy the feelings of peace and beauty we had!

tips: 

DO
* Book your hotels ahead.  There aren't many of them and they book quickly.
* Have dinner at Pie de Ma in Riomaggiore.  Every night there is a chef's menu and the sunsets from the cliff are amazing.
* Hike the trails.  The most strenuous one is from Monterosso to Vernazza (though if you do it from Vernazza you avoid crazy narrow steep stairs that will make you feel like a donkey)

DON'T
* Don't go in July and August unless you find great comfort in crowds.  One day in Riomaggiore, a cruise ship day tour was in town and I got a feel for what it was like and all I can say is: DON'T DO IT!
* As charming as it sounds, leave the luggage behind.  With such easy access, stay at one or two spots and travel between them.

The Vernazza Harbour

Monterroso al Mare from the water

Doing the hike from Vernazza to Monterosso.  The hiking boots are

because of this sign! We wanted to be ironic and hike in dresses.  But we're still practical, so we had proper footwear!

The view of Vernazza on the hike to Monterosso

Along the hike was this cute old man playing tunes on his sax

The view of Monterosso halfway thru the hike

After our hike, some much needed beach time

The hills above Monterosso

the foam party in Riomaggiore

 Just too phallic for words...

then the adults joined in.

One of the prettier and easier hikes.  From Riomaggiore to Manarolo on the Via Del Amore (way of love)

 A gorgeous stop on the hike for a capuccino or gelato

On The Via Del Amore, couples come to "seal" their love.  All of those things hanging on the rail are locks.  Couple come to seal their love with locks.  The cynic in me wonders if they come back and cut the locks off if the love doesn't work out...

       

It's true that things happen in 3's!

Things have been quiet in the writing world. NOT because I haven't had anything to write about! There's been a ton going on! From an amazing trip to Cinque Terre, a spontaneous girls weekend to the Bodensee to swinging on trees and ropes in the forest.  But logistics have stopped me from doing this as my computer died a couple of weeks ago.  It started out like a normal day, but then my computer would turn itself off.  Then, I would turn it back on.  And it would turn itself back off.  This went on for a day, and the next day, she decided not to come back on at all.  And then I did what all modern women do when their computer dies: I panicked.  My pictures! my videos!  And so I set on a search of how to recover my data.  I almost resigned myself to it being a lost cause and then, like a needle in a haystack, I found a great shop with customer service (I say needle in a haystack, because Germany is not exactly known for it's outstanding customer service!) 

I asked helpful guy if they fixed computers (they didn't) and when I explained myself (in English, because charades weren't going to happen) he explained to me that there is this device that you can help with this.  Long story short, you extract hard drive from your computer, connect it to this device, connect it to a power source and then to a usb to your new computer and voila, data can be gotten.  I was amazed that it was that simple and cost only 20 euro and even more amazed that he volunteered this info!  Poor guy didn't know what hit him when I thanked him about 30 times in a row!!! It was all I could do to hold myself back and not hug him!

It wasn't exactly in my budget to buy a new computer, mostly because galavanting thru Europe on weekends isn't the easiest on the wallet, but because this is my 3rd electronic device in as many weeks to bite the bullet.  First, was my cappucino machine (aka morning saviour), then my camera in Italy and now my laptop.  It's ironic that they all died within 3 weeks of each other, but even more so since they were all gifts from my ex husband, so it's appropriate that they went down in flames in such a short time much like my marriage to him!

Finding solace in Dr.Seuss

To my knowledge, I have never read any Dr. Seuss books as a kid. You see, I grew up in the French part of Canada and spent all of my primary school years in French school. To be fair, Dr. Seuss was probably available in French, I just never knew about it. Then again, I was a pretty nerdy kid. When I was old enough to read on my own, I read books about astronomy and the history of math. I do remember lots of Richard Scarry books though.



Even know I may not have read any Dr. Seuss books, I have crossed paths with excerpts from them. After all, you’d have had to live under a rock to have not heard of him growing up in North America. I do remember hearing about “Oh, the places you’ll go” but honestly had no idea what it was about. Then the other day, I looked it up. And it’s genius! Is this mandatory reading for kids? If not, it should be! How one can capture the story of the ups and downs of life in such a light spirit (let alone colorful words and rhyming) is absolute.bloody.genius.


I get that it’s main purpose was to entertain and inspire children, but is it wrong for me, at the ripe old age of 38, having never read Dr. Seuss to now find inspiration in it?

On “you can do anything”

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.


You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.


You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

On doubt

You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.” With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.

And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town. It’s opener there in the wide open air.


You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?


And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.


On life’s disapointments


I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.


You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.


You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.

And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.

On loneliness

Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t.

I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.

All Alone!

Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.

And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.

Dr Seuss, I may have never come across the path of your literary genius until now, but thank you. Thank you for writing such an inspiring and realistic tale of life. Life is about ups and downs. And we always make it thru anything, with a little humour.

Your mountain is waiting.

So…get on your way!

How to recognize your future ex husband...

And in most random book titles....  I came across an article while surfing the internet last week talking about "how to recognize your future ex-husband"  Of course it had me piqued for a number of reasons, most obviously now that I'm divorced and have tried my hand at dating, I realize I still have some fears to deal with.

You see, the man I married was pretty much the definition of narcissist. In a sentence "It is difficult to recognize a narcissist because he (or she) spends all of his time acting, protecting his ego by presenting to the world a mask a false image of himself. " 

After 2 years, I feel great about myself and wouldn't look back.  But for the first year, I pretty much beat myself up everyday with things like "I should have known better" and though I'm much more gentle on myself and as cliche as it is, I still fear I won't be able to recognize the signs if faced with a similar situation. 

This is where the book comes in.  The article I read basically sums it up to the things you rationalize while dating.  Of course it seems obvious, but how many of us are blinded in the moment?  We'll see what else the book goes into and if it has any gems of info, but at the very least, it'll make great coffee table fodder when my girlfriends come over!

Is there a middle ground?

One of the things I've been making myself try to do since moving here is to force myself to go out and socialize.  By anyone's definition, I'm outgoing but oxymoronically, but I'm really, really awkward and going out and talking to new people.  If there's already a connection thru friends of friends, it's easier for me cause we have a starting point.  But to blankly go out and socialize?  I'd rather eat eggplant.

But in order to go out and expand my social circle, I force myself out to various English Stammtisch's (where fellow ex pats get together and mingle)  I've been so overcome approaching an entire group of people that I don't know that I've actually gone to them and then walked away out of fear!  It brings me back to being the new girl in school constantly as a kid and trying to make new friends.  I guess there's some things we'll never get over!

One of the things I'm most uncomfortable with is small talk.  The whole "where are you from? what do you do? nice weather we're having"  I'd rather people share their stories, debates, whatever.  So I should have known better when I was recently complaining to friends that one of the things I disliked about the stammtisch's and meeting new people was the small talk.  I should have known Murphy was going to bite me in the ass.  He's bitten me in the ass a number of times, like when I told an ex boyfriend that if India was the last place on earth, I didn't want to go.  Well, 5 trips for me to India later, ex boyfriend hasn't gone!

It started out innocently enough.  My friend A (who is hyper social and making me work thru this fear of meeting strangers) approached a table and started talking to them.  Since she broke the ice, I felt more comfortable joining in.  Then I got to talking to an Israeli fellow, and if he knew what small talk was, he wasn't letting on.   I had mentioned I'd gone to Israel before so thought that would be a good common ground.  Well, it turns out he was a missile designer and for two hours he gave me his take about peace (or lack thereof) in the middle east.  Don't get me wrong, certainly I'm not opposed to political conversations, but this was getting heavy.  Ever try to discuss the Israel/Palestine crisis with an Israeli missile designer? 

Why is it that small talk, like dating, there doesn't seem to be any middle ground?

Germany, throw a girl a bone.

Well, Deutschland. You and I have been intimate now for 7 months. Ours has not been an easy relationship. I met you with an open mind and had no preconceptions of how you would be to live with. Sometimes, I think you’re just playing tricks on me. Like the time I was locked in the dark bathroom stall at work facing my one and only fear of claustrophobia or the one where I couldn’t figure out how to make my German car go in reverse, open the gastank or the trunk. I know that you have an odd sense of humor. What else can explain those two dots over your vowels that make words unpronounceable? Other times, I think you’ve just been cruel to me. I mean really? A plumbing issue that’s lasted over 3 months in a language I don’t understand. I’m starting to be convinced that I must have seriously offended German plumbers in a former life and I’m paying for it in this life.


As a foreigner, I’ve accepted your bizarre rules. Like the fact that I can’t wash my car or grocery shop on Sundays but I CAN pick berries, visit prostitutes and gamble. I do struggle with the fact that a lot of your rules are unwritten and that I’m somehow meant to just “know” these things.


I can’t help but feel like the crazy one in the room since all your fellow countrymen all seem to ask me “Why are you here?” when they find out I’m from Canada and for the first time, I’m starting to wonder myself.


Germany, I am accepting of your faults and hope you will be of mine, but I’m starting to ask myself, “if you didn’t want me here, why did you pick me to move here”. I know I got a tattoo a few years ago to reinforce my belief of “What doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger” but do you really need to test out my theory every day of the year?


I do thank you for giving me great friends, because without them, I would have melted down (and I also would have less of a liver) You see, they’ve known you a lot longer than me and so they’ve learned how to live with you and provide me with meaningful advice.


But how about we let bygones be bygones and we put the past behind. I still have high hopes for you Deutschland and I still believe in you. But I’d really, really, REALLY like it if we could make things just a tad easier. I don’t mean lay out the red carpet for me or anything, but I’d sure love it if everyday of my life you didn’t test my evergrowing patience and make things just a little bit smoother. So can we agree to put our differences aside and maybe you can let me co-exist quietly and a little bit more hassle free alongside you? Deal?

German efficiency: 0 Ongoing frustration: 1

I should have known it was too good to be true.  Though I've only lived in Germany 7 months, I've figured out that nothing is as simple as it seems.  In North America, we hear constantly how Germany is one of the last bastions of efficiency. And I still say, lies! lies! and lies! 

It's been 3 months since the pipe burst inside my bathroom wall and the plumbers came to make a one meter tall by half a meter wide hole in my bathroom.  When that happened, the plumber explained to me (in German and charades) what would need to happen.  It involved about 5 different workers coming and doing their part and everyone thought it would be finished within 2 weeks.  Flash foward 3 months:  they had to take the kitchen out for 3 weeks, dry the walls for 2 weeks and then there was no activity for about a month. A month after the walls were dry, some clown came by to look at the wall and make an estimate. Nothing again for 3 weeks. 3 weeks later, the same clown came back to look at the hole and make an estimate. Then nothing. Then, FINALLY after me flipping out on my landlord (who said to me and I quote... "if you're sick of the hole drape a towel over it!") and any worker that would come by, someone made an appointment to come back for 2 days and fix this once and for all.

The day came today. I was skeptical, but excited. Finally, Helmutt (after 3 months I figured I should name it!) got shut. I was excited. Even though the workers showed up at 7am the day after I got back from Asia and jetlagged, I sucked it up. After 6 hours of the workers being here, they told me the job couldn't be finished because one of the clowns ordered the wrong tiles! Of course he did. Why would I expect this to be fixed within the year? I should have known better...

The (un)glamorous life of business travel

I'm supposed to be in shanghai right now, but instead, I'm stuck in Ho chi Minh city. I heard about typhoon mufia so checked the reports before bed and all looked well. My flight was at the ungodly hour of 730, which meant I had to get up at 4:30am. I checked the airline and airport website before leaving the hotel and everything still looked to be on track for departure.

I was a little apprehensive since mufia was meant to be the biggest typhoon in HISTORY! But before I went to bed last night, they said it had calmed down and the brunt of it was going to miss shanghai.

I've never been afraid of flying, I credit it to my first experience on a plane: I was 6 years old and my grandmother had taken me to (then) Yugoslavia for a month. On the way home, a piece of satellite cracked or broke the cockpit windshield and the plane started decompressing and the emergency masks came down. I still remember my grandmother putting the mask on me and everyone crying and praying on the plane. We made an emergency landing in London and I remember feeling like my world had ended because on the way off the plane, my favorite doll blew away (6 year olds and their priorities you know )

Since then I've been lucky, my flight experiences have been less dramatic. The closest I've come in all these years and dozens of flights was being in a propeller plane thru a thunderstorm in south India. I believe it was also the first and last time I prayed!

I love that I get to travel for work and still pinch myself that it's been a perk for the last 8 years. But to say work travel is glamourous, is a big myth (almost in the same proportions of saying Germany is efficient!) crowded airports, swine flu outbreaks where laser thermometers are randomly pointed at your forehead, hotels that take hours to figure out light switches and seeing your life flash before your eyes on an Indian road one too many times are just part of the fun and part of the job.

Even through missed flights, crazy traffic, stressful meetings and 150% humidity, I still love travelling for work and love that it's a perk. But glamourous, it is not!

Why your clothes about to get a whole lot more expensive

Clothing has been made in china since the late 70's or so. However, until 10 years ago there was quota on all clothing being made and shipped to any country that was part of the WTO. Quota was set by each country that imported clothing from china. Each factory wanting to produce clothing for the 1st world would request quota and quota became a commodity. Manufacturers would sell their extra quota or buy leftover quota from their competitors. As a result quota was operated on the basic supply and demand system of economics. When I started in the garment business back in 1999, us quota for cotton woven pants (the most valued commodity) was priced in the neighborhood of us $3.00 per pant. If you consider that the total wholesale cost of an "average" pair of pants leaving the factory was in the $10 range, quota played a big part of the total garment cost.

Then, in 2001, the WTO deemed quota unfair and the floodgates opened. Clothing manufacturing in china took off. Like a bullet train. People couldn't build factories fast enough and retailers couldn't place orders fast enough. In the past 10 years china has become the world's closet.

But in the past 10 years, a funny thing happened. Factory owners were getting rich, workers, though paid little, were able to send money home to their families and give their children an education. In that time, workers started realizing that they could walk across the street and make iPods for more money. So to entice new workers, factories had to keep increasing wages. Then the cost of every day goods like food started to get more expensive and workers started striking to make more money and factories had to give in or lose their workforce and now after ten years of this and the cost of labour is going up. And up. In the past year alone, wages for the average Chinese clothing worker have gone up about 30%.

And now that we have all become reliant on cheap disposable clothing, these increases have become hard to swallow. They have been great for China and arguably for the Chinese worker (though they make what we consider a pittance, workers are still able to send home a third of their wages home to their family in often rural areas)

As the labour costs of China have gone up, retailers have begun looking elsewhere: Thailand, Indonesia and Vietnam. So in the past 5 years clothing manufacturing in these countries has also taken off. The wages in these countries are still lower than china's, but because growth has been faster in these countries, wages have had to rise faster. From Vietnam (where I'm travelling for work right now) they're experiencing double digit inflation and the government has had to raise the unemployment rate 3 months ahead of schedule.

Clothing, unlike most other things for the past 15 years has been coming down in price because of cheap labour, but now that the clothing industry is slowly running out of "cheap" labour our days of disposable clothing may not be far behind.

Some in the industry think that with all these price increases, it just may come full circle. Now that the manufacturing countries are gaining a middle class, they'll change into consumers and the consumer countries will turn back into the manufacturing companies. That may be a bit drastic (for now) considering the average textile worker in china makes just over $100 us/month, but food for thought....

Little mangosteen, oh how much I love thee.

The first time I met a mangosteen was in Thailand.  I was fascinated by this oddly shaped little thing with a cute top. When it was cut open for me, I was a bit freaked out by this thing that looked liked a baseball shaped eggplant but looked like a garlic bulb on the inside and I was very reluctant to try it (as much as I love food, I get freaked out, sweaty and clammy when forced to try new foods.  It was honestly less scary to jump out of a plane then me having to try new foods)  I was hesitant but it was a business lunch and I wasn't going to walk into another opportunity to humilate myself so I did.  And it was amazing!  It may look like a bulb of garlic but it tasted like deliciousness.  It sort of had the texture of a lychee but was a thousand times more delicious. 

Because the mangosteen is quite elusive (due to the fact it's not sprayed, it has really strict import rules into the western world) of course I wanted it more.  Kinda like the forbidden fruit.  Literally.  So whenever I'm in Asia, I always have one eye on the open street markets out for these mangosteens.  And when found, I've been known to buy an obscene quantity and gorge on them for dinner. What? they're high in antioxidants and good for me!!!

So imagine my surprise when they showed up at my business lunch today.  It was like I won the lottery! My eyes lit up and I could see or hear nothing else.  focus. on. the. mangosteen.   I tried really hard to hold back and not eat them all (I did a good job, but I think everyone was kind of afraid to get in between me and the mangosteen)

So little mangosteen, I love you.  You're quite possibly the best fruit I've ever tasted. 

Why did the foreigner cross the road?

I've been temporarily let out of Germany and I'm in Asia for two weeks on business: One week Ho Chi Min City and one week Shanghai.  I'm considering it a bit of a luxury to only have to deal with a 6 hour time change (rather than the usual 16 hours from North America) and to only have to be in 2 cities in 2 weeks.  My previous work trips have been known to include 4 countries in 9 days.

A collegue gave me a strict set of instructions last year before my first visit: cross at the zebra stripes, walk slowly and at a consistent pace and look straight ahead.  Don't look left or right and whatever you do, don't flinch.  When he gave me those instructions, I laughed.  After all, I grew up in Montreal and consider myself a professional j-walker.  I've been to India 5 times and saw the craziness that is traffic (though you couldn't be a pedestrian in India due to the lack of sidewalks and sharing the space with cows!)  Yeah right I thought.  Surely, it's nothing.  Man, was I wrong.

Of all the crazy things I've done in my life, and there have been a lot, from jumping out of a plane, white water rafting class IV rapids in costa rica, paragliding off a mountain and getting a tatoo in Argentina, none have been as scary as crossing the street in Vietnam. No, really.

I stick to the rule of crossing only at zebra stripes or traffic lights. And even then, it's really, really hard not to flinch.  To have a car or motorcycle barelling ahead of you and to just keep going not knowing how agile they are, well, it's nerve racking.  The motorcyclists are use to this and have it down to an art.  I've had motorcycles come within 2 inches of me, literally!  The most important rule to follow is to walk at a consistent pace.  This way, motorists can gauge your speed and you won't mess up their system.  Flinch, and your toes (or worse) will get hit.

I've scoured youtube for the best example of what it's really like.  Some of the videos that people have posted aren't nearly as bad as what it's REALLY like.  But the video above is a pretty accurate example of what it's really like.  I've never been somewhere where I really had to analyze if I REALLY wanted to cross the street!

Half a year in

6 months ago today, I got on a plane at yvr and left friends, family, a comfortable job and a country I knew behind for a blind leap of faith.  Unlike my last major move, this one wasn't for love, but for a job.  I'm long over the jet lag, but it's still goint to take a long time to get over the culture shock!

These past 6 months have been a ride.  In a lot of ways, it's like relearning most of what you know.  I'll never forget 5 months ago, when I got my new (to me) car and I couldn't figure out how to put the thing in reverse.  Or how to open the trunk.  Or how to open the gas tank.  sigh. 

And then the panic that I would feel when I would go into stores and they'd say something to me.  Most of the time it was something along the lines of "Can I help you" but if they didn't say it in the only way that I understood, I was clueless.  Well, after 6 months, my palms have stopped sweating when people talk to me.  I still don't fully understand what they say, but the panic has subsided.

In these 6 months, I've also had to deal with a major plumbing issue (YES, the hole is still there- it celebrated it's two month anniversary last week), working in a mostly German environment (though we work in English, all my collegues are German and unintentionally forget to switch to English thereby keeping me out of the loop on some subjects) and seemlingly constant minor health issues (it seems like I'm allergic to every plant/tree/bush Germany can grow)

But through all of this, I have made an amazing circle of friends in such a short time and I'm so grateful.  For without them, there would be a whole lot more tears, empty wine bottles and charades.

For this journey at least, failure is not an option. 

When life hands you wasserschaden, head to Tuscany!

It all started with the dining room chairs. I had ordered them 2 months prior and was eagerly awaiting their arrival. It was the LAST thing I needed to complete my place! After nearly 6 months of transitioning (getting rid of old stuff, moving here, setting up, getting new stuff) the dining room chairs were the last step.

I dragged A with me to the store and we picked them up and carried them up to my place. We opened up the box and my face fell! Instead of the modern white moulded chairs with chrome legs and faux leather built in seat cushion it was this black leather and black/white heathered monstrosity.

I enlisted A’s German boyfriend to help. The next day he got on the phone to them and explained the situation. Long story short, yes, they gave me the wrong ones and I had paid in full for them, but they don’t know when the right ones are coming. And so they sit, in boxes in my hallway.

Since then, my place has been in chaos. Or, as the Germans call it “ein katastrof” the damage from the broken pipe is worse than they thought and so after a handful of workers have come and inspected the situation, I have walls ripped up, no stove or oven, pipes and dryers all set up in my house. When I came home the other day, I just stood in my apartment in shock. How? Why? Really??? I was so happy to be settled in and now I was living in a construction zone! After having a little cry (after dealing with relocating, I thought I was done the stressful stuff) I convinced myself it wasn’t the end of the world. Emailed my landlord and started negotiating for compensation (German tenancy laws are great that way)

And then, from nowhere, a silver lining appeared…

A girlfriend emailed me looking for a road trip partner to Tuscany. She had a free place to stay but no one to go with. Did I want to join? UMMMMM… YEAH! So instead of dealing with fans, landlords, moisture, mould, no stove (always a great diet plan- no stove = eating salads every night) I’m leaving it all behind for 5 nights in Tuscany. Ahhhhhhh…..

The start of beerfestival season

As almost anyone knows, Germans love their beer.  And so do Canadians.  So it's not without irony that this Canadian, living in Bavaria does not drink beer.  It's not that I don't drink alcohol, I socially engage in wine and other cocktails, but beer turns my stomach. literally.  The smell, the carbonation, everything about it.  But I love a good party more than I dislike beer and so with that, I'm going to my very first beer festival.

From now until the end of September, there are literally hundreds of beer festivals.  Every town and every neighborhood have their own little (or big beer fests) The biggest (and most touristy) being Oktoberfest in Munich. 

My first foray into beer festing, will be the Erlanger Bergkirchweih.  My friends have given me an idea of what to expect and given the descriptions, I'll want to stay sober for it.  The Erlanger Bergkirchweih is one of the biggest beerfests.  I've been told that it's basically Oktoberfest without the tourists.  It seems like it's the kitschy-ist of the kitsch without irony. 

To get into the spirit of things, my girlfriends and I have decided to get proper beer fest "outfits".  So earlier this week, we went shopping.  Specifically drindl and lederhosen shopping.  The best part about this is that here, these are not "costumes" but are actual outfits still worn regularly at such beer fests.  So, we bought our outfits at a regular department store and man, it did NOT let us down.  I did have my heart set on a drindl, but sadly my body shape was not meant to be dirdnl-ed.  It seems that I'm heavily lacking in the top department to make a dirdl proud.  And so, I settled for a kitschy pair of brown lederhosen complete with suspenders and checkered shirt.  The thought of wearing leather pants in June seems daunting, but thankfully the weather is calling for cooler temps.

I can't wait to get dressed up in my leather outfit, eat gigantic pretzels, surrounded by oompa bands, cheesy 70's band tributes, amazing people watching and drunken Germans.  It's sure to be a highlight of the summer.  I just hope that I give my lederhosen a lot more coolness than this guy!

Der, Die, Das oh how I hate you.

Well, it was 4 months last week since I've been in Germany.  I've been making a "bit" of progress on the language front.  I've had a couple more German classes and we're now on the highly dreaded "der, die, das".  Being able to speak French, I get that some languages have a (non-sensical) masculine and feminine distinguishment of nouns.  In french, the garbage is feminine and the book is masculine.  It makes no sense.  But since I learned it and was schooled in it as a kid, the distinction becomes second nature.  But now in my (ahem) late 30's, and picking up a 4th language, it's a lot harder.  Add to the fact that German has the added "bonus" of a "neutral" article.  Good lord.  And of course, there is no rhyme or reason to why things have der, die or das.

So far, my German has been on a need to know basis.  If I need to know something, I look it up and practice it before I have to say it.  This works particularly well in stores where the request is simple and I won't be left staring blankly after their response.  I've been particularly sucessful with "Haben Sie?"  (Do you have...)  I've learned a lot of words this way; like rauchmelder (smoke alarm),  reiningungsprodukte (cleaning products and a ridiculous mouthful) and knochen (bones- what? I have a dog!) 

I'm getting to a point though where I have a repertoire of a few (very few) sentences.  Because they're the only ones I know, I say them all the time and so am starting to be "believable".  The issue with this though is that people assume since you know these words, you must know more and so they babble on and on at full machine gun speed.  And I'm left staring blankly.  I go with the hope I can recognize a word, body language, hand signal, ANYTHING that will make me understand what they say.  My usual response is "I'm sorry, I only speak a little German" and theirs is usually "ahhh but you speak so good".  Yeah.  When you say the same 10 sentences over and over again, they start to roll off the tongue.

Since my German is so basic, I only know the present tense for everything.  It's interesting really.  It's like I have no past or no future.  only now.  I can only (sort of) tell you what I'm doing.  Not what I've done or will be doing.  In principle, it's not a bad place to be, but I can't help but feel like a 3 year old trapped in a late 30's body.