Further Update

Unfortunate news.

No skipping of Der German Class I Shouldn't Be In. Will just have to suck it up for the semester, just because the credits don't quite work out to have it already covered. On the plus side, if I just bite the bullet and chew on it on my back molars until December, it will also mean finishing the German Lit. and Language major for good without having to worry about trying to herd in any more requirements in my final semester. For each glass, there is both an occupied and unoccupied side, I suppose.

TP

Confound it!

Ran out of toilet paper just four days before departure.
(I was hoping it would last just long enough without having to buy a new roll.)

Meerrettich

Because of the following story, I will now never forget the meaning of this word.

I've known J. since we were both 5 years old in the same Kindergarten class, and only until college did we go to different schools. Two weeks ago, she and her boyfriend came by Regensburg on part of their vacation through Europe. We walked around the city during the day, and in the evening, I took them to Alte Linde ("Old Linden Tree"), a well-known beer garden in Regensburg situated on a small island on the Danube with a great view across the river. As with most beer gardens, it serves lots of beer and lots of very traditional German food.


The two of them don't speak any German, so we went down the menu and I translated for them. J. pointed to an item under the Brotzeit menu (traditional German meal where cold cuts, cheeses, bread and other spreads are served on a wooden cutting board) that had a long list of sundry items that came with it. One of the few words I simply couldn't remember was "Meerrettich", because I just hadn't encountered it much. But the other items sounded alright, so J. went ahead and ordered it for dinner.

After a while, our food finally came, and in front of her was a big variety of the items mentioned above. We sat there trying to guess what everything was, because I haven't actually ordered Brotzeit much and wasn't entirely sure. Then she scooped a bit from a small white mound, spread it generously across a piece of bread and took a big bite. We were eating when she suddenly sat up in a panic, flailed her hands and desperately started guzzling some beer (there weren't any other options on our table).

The white stuff, Meerrettich, is horseradish.

And German horseradish is strong.

Oops! Sorry!

It won't happen again!

Not Amused

*chokes, wheezes, retches and gags at the smell of weed/pot/whatever overwhelming her from the girl sitting at the next computer three feet over*

Uuuaaaghhh.... why, WHY do so many of you here do this??? I think it just rotted through my lungs and diaphragm and into my stomach. I had to think about how to spell "diaphragm" just now. I'm at a German computer at the University, so the auto-spellcheck is useless because it identifies every English word as wrong in German. Page of red underlines. I could spell it die-uhframm and I wouldn't know the difference. "Die! A framm!" Speaking of die, OH THANK HEAVENS, she and her friend just left. Let me just sweep out the pile of brain cells that shriveled up and died in the last few minutes and get back to work on my essays.

You Swine!

Ah. How splendid.


It was just announced on the news this morning that the first case of the Swine Flu in Germany has just been documented in - none other than - good old Regensburg.

It was reported in the surrounding county, so the case fortunately wasn't within the main city itself. But you must admit that we've really got to hand it to Murphy again this time. Gosh darn it, Murphy. *shakes fist*.

At the moment, I am still not certain if I should bring this to my mother's attention. I had only just convinced her how safe I was here. Sigh.

(Ironically, the pig is an animal/symbol of luck in Germany).

Klavierspielen

*sigh*. I got politely kicked out of the only music store in the central city for kilometers around that actually sells pianos. One of sales clerks came up to me and asked if I was actually interested in an instrument or if I just wanted to play.

DUH I just want to play. I've gotten kicked out of practice rooms at the university -- on an empty Friday evening -- because they are supposedly only for the use of the music pedagogy students. The closest option following that is a single, little practice room in a student dorm that is a 20 minute bus ride from here. You've got to pay something like a €50 key deposit for the room, and even if I take the time to go there when I want to practice, there is no certainty that the room won't already be occupied, which then involves either staying for an indefinite amount of time until the current occupant is done, or waiting for the next bus to take the 20 minute ride back.

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem convenient for a non-major pianist to find a "legal" piano to play in Regensburg. (Hey, I majored in piano for 7 years, does that still count for you?) This is pretty disappointing, all in all. If you're a runner, you'd put on your jogging shoes and go run before you've even unpacked your stonking suitcase in a new country. If you're an artist, nothing will stop you from finding some kind of supplies to draw, paint, sketch, whatever it is you do.

I'm a pianist and I'm dying to play. I hadn't touched a piano in weeks. Schumann Impromptus and Mendelssohn Lieder are fading from my mind and fingers. Unfortunately, I'm being turned away at all the doors in the city with a playable piano behind them. So yes, there are far worse things that could happen, or not happen. But the only inconvenience in the magnificent, unparalleled instrument that is the piano is its very poor portability.

And by the way, don't ever suggest to a pianist in this kind of situation to find an electric keyboard to play. It's something like handing a plastic recorder to a clarinetist who couldn't bring his clarinet. Yeah, it could be a top-quality plastic recorder, but would you take it?

This is a Rant about the Wallet Witch

I am feeling slightly vexed at the grouchy German hag at one of the stands in the Christkindlmarkt. She works at a bag/purse/wallet booth, and I was sifting through the rows of wallets on display, because my current wallet is not conducive to holding change, and I'm looking for a new one.

So I will take my time looking, right? Because there are infinite number of wallet styles and I'd like one that is both very practical for my needs and appeals to my taste, right? Right. Tell this lady who gives me a cold smile when I walk up. She honestly has that look like I'm wasting her time. I just got here, woman! And I am browsing, not running a marathon.

I must admit to having a "female" stereotype of being terribly indecisive. I think I am afraid of irreversibility. At any rate, unless I know specifically what I'm getting, I am not particularly swift at buying things. 1) Do I need it?. 2) Do I like it?. And so on.

I am narrowed down to two cloth-type wallets, more or less. So they are of the same structure, but different colors, slightly different sizes, different designs, etc. Aesthetically, I like them both. Practically, the charcoal one doesn't open up as well, but eggshell/white gets dirty and sooty looking very quickly. So I need to decide. But this is particularly difficult because for the entire time I am there, she is standing over and watching me. Lady, I am just looking, and have told you so twice. Don't you have some big shelf of purses to go organize or something? Some inventory to count up?? Some sunny land of bunnies to go darken with your face like a storm cloud?? Meanwhile, she has so helpfully informed me for the 3rd time since I got there, "They are all the same!" (No, they are not, just like how you and I are both humanoid, but you are a total five-letter word that rhymes with witch, and I am not.)

I know that I have a hard time deciding, so I smile and apologize briefly. Like you do. Most people understand, and if they want business, they will definitely understand. Instead, she retorts straight back to me, "Yeah. I'm sorry too." I didn't even listen to whatever the hell else she was adding to that remark, because I was stuffing the wallets back into the row and walking away at that moment.

(I really need a Döner and some Will and Grace right now.)

Meltdown

About a week ago, my suitemate's sister came to visit for a couple of days and brought her cute little girl with her as well. She's about a year and a half old.

On the morning of the day they left, I was in my room and typing on the computer when there was a loud *POP*, and all of the lights go out. So I did the necessary confused freeze-and-blink, and then got up and looked into the kitchen. The three of them were there, little Antonia scooped up in her mother's arms. I asked if they knew what was up.

So apparently, while one sister was preoccupied and the other was taking a brief shower, Antonia had tottered out to the kitchen and fooled with the stove dials. 1, 2 and 3 out of 4, to be exact. Previously sitting in the back on Burner #2 was our water boiler. Now sitting in the back on Burner #2 was something resembling our water boiler leaning pathetically from a pedestal of hot, melted, gooey plastic.

From Living in Regensburg

My brave roommate somehow managed to successfully bring all the lights back up after messing with the switchbox. So... the kitchen smelled awful, but at least nothing happened to the little girl. I would have been heart-broken. (When I was around her age, I had a stove top accident myself, but my hands weren't so lucky).

My suitemate fortunately managed to do a pretty clean job of prying the thing off after we let it cool. Now it's still sitting in my room. Because I have this odd reluctance to let it go. I need to throw it away already, but it just keeps amusing me.

When it was on our kitchen table, I joked to my roommate that I felt the need to put a small label plaque next to it with the words,

"Untitled"
Antonia, 2008

*Sproing*

I've lost a tiny, 2cm long metal spring.

It's somewhere in my room.

You are more than welcome to come over and help me find it.

(But please bring your own snack and drinks).

Meet and Greet

As I might have mentioned in an earlier post, I share a kitchen with a suitemate. However, she's been out of the country for the summer break here and just got back today.

I was re-organizing the kitchen this evening and listening to the Avenue Q soundtrack. If you aren't already familiar with Avenue Q, this might not be as amusing to you, but I think you can still get the gist of it.

So when my suitemate and her friend happen to arrive at the kitchen door and walk in, my computer happened to be blasting "The Internet Is For Porn." Not only was it playing "The Internet Is For Porn," but at the very moment that both of them walked in, it was playing the ending chorus.

Which goes something like, "Pooooorn, POOOORN, POOOOOORNNN!!!!"

. . . . . .

I can only hope they didn't recognize what was being belted with gusto when I practically ran at the computer with glass drinking glasses still in my hand and slammed the pause button. Stellar first impression.

(Of all the few days that I am not listening to classical or trance/techno... Of all days!)

Duschen

Thinking back on it, I wish I had remembered to take a picture of my old shower head. The shower heads here in my building are the kind that you can take off the wall and use as a sprayer.

On the first day I got here, Sanni showed me around a few places so that I could find what I might need. Then I went back to my room to take a shower, because traveling on three flights for two days is disgusting, among other things.

I tried to set it on its post. It was angled too far in, and sprayed towards the wall. So I gently pried it outward. It didn't want to. The shower head broke on my first day here. I tried my best to screw it back on, but the problem was that it was old, and the screw part was all but crumbling away.

The second day, it broke further yet, if you believe that's possible.

When you have problems, you write it on a little notebook downstairs for the Hausmeister (house master) to see. If it's a weekday, he'll get right to it pretty soon and come perform maintenance.

Since it broke for the second time on a Friday night, I showered with something more or less like a small garden hose for about 3-4 days.

I happen to find this hilarious.

(PS -- He did end up replacing the whole equipment, so fortunately, I do have a brand new, shiny shower head now.)

Achoo

On a different note, I've just caught a minor sniffle/sore throat this weekend. It's nothing heavy, but I don't really want to travel long distance through multiple airports and people-congested planes while my immune system is already calling for backup reinforcements. Hopefully things will look great by Wednesday morning.