Just a quick one to let you know that my sense of humor hasn't completely disappeared, despite the challenges of my life just now.
As you know, I'm quite the coffee fiend, and the weekend ritual involves me getting up, usually with some level of hangover, and preparing a little espresso with my stovetop machine. The sell Lavazza at my local market, and that's a pretty good thing.
A week ago, right before my parents left town, I bought a few liters of milk, noting the sell by date but not too worried; it was possible that I'd be in Edinburgh late in the week, but would still have good milk upon my return, at least for Saturday morning.
Well, you've already read about my crap week, and let it be said that last Friday night I went out and tied one on.
Thus, I was fully ready for my Saturday morning coffee when I woke up. My little machine worked great as usual, and I poured the steaming espresso into my mug. Then, I poured the last of my milk into the mug, then set it down on the counter to cool for just a minute.
Powered up the laptop, connected to the internet to check the headlines, then went back to collect my coffee. The surface of the liquid looked a little funny, so I stuck a spoon in the mug and gave a bit of a stir. Well, apparently all of the milk curdled right on the spot; there was nothing but a big spongy mass of yuck.
For those of you who enjoy traditional onion soup, you know it is usually served with a sizable crouton on the bottom of the soup bowl. Every once in awhile, the soggy bread tends to gross me out, which is why I don't go out of my way to have onion soup all that frequently.
The disaster in my coffee mug was that times ten. I feared for a moment that my coffee was toxic, and or worse yet, that I was about to be violently ill.
Fortunately, I threw open the back door, inhaled deeply on a cigarette, and overcame my nausea. Then, I emptied the contents of the mug into the trash, and promptly threw out the milk, swearing to myself a bit because I really needed a coffee.
I went out for a few errands, got a haircut, then stopped by the market on the way home and went to the milk aisle, where I selected a different brand of milk: Alpenfrisch Milch, 3.5% fat.
Home again, and Saturday evening, I had a tasty coffee with some super milk that even Heidi would be proud of.
There's nothing quite worse than spoilt milk, but hey, it could have been so much worse. Thank goodness I looked before I gulped.
cheers
bryan
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Keeping the Faith
Back at the end of the 90s, Miles Hunt of the Wonderstuff was doing a fair amount of solo work, and I happened to see him play a live acoustic set in which he played a song titled, "Everything is Not OK."
That song has been my theme song for the month of May.
28 days ago I wrote of my joy that my pub had reopened, my parents were coming to visit, and I was truly hoping that things would start settling down in the office, allowing me to have a nice month.
Boy was I ever wrong.
I've not had a particularly pleasant month at all. Virtually everything work related has gone tits up, as my colleagues in the UK frequently remark. However, I must clarify this statement. From an operations standpoint in my facility, my little program is starting to take off; we're making progress and doing pretty well. Colleagues are starting to take responsibility, and I'm encouraged that my efforts to build a program are showing result.
On the other hand, the project involves two repair sites and a call center. We've had quite a few problems in the call center, and the other site has had it's share of challenges. Furthermore, a few people involved in the management of the program have been off on holiday for a few days at various times during the month, and I've discovered that when they're absent, we absolutely fall apart.
At one point two weeks ago, I was trying to cover for about 4 people, and absolutely couldn't get everything done. Once or twice during that particular week, I was very nearly down for the count; unable to continue in the zany sicko world of program management in the repair logistics industry.
After this past week, I'd prefer the way it went two weeks back, simply shitty and horrible. This past week, I had the complete crap beat out of me no less than 150 times. Wednesday, after an unpleasant two hours on the phone with the European manager of a small program that I'm watching after, I hung up the phone and joined another conference call where the entire management team of my primary customer proceeded to yell and scream so loudly that the connection kept cutting out on the telephone.
Redundant as their message was, it was very clear that they're not satisfied with the way things are going. It's a bit annoying that they don't recognize their redundancy (each one basically said the exact same thing - the call center isn't performing, you've got a backlog, there aren't enough people working the issues, etc), but it's a bit humiliating that this is now the second time we've had this sort of teleconference. How come we didn't sort things out six weeks ago when they first told us their concerns?
Well, basically, we're trying to accomplish too much with too few people. This is a majorly complicated project that requires a fair amount of brain power. Unfortunately, there are three of us trying to make it all happen, and it's almost impossible, especially if the slightest thing goes wrong or someone is out of the office.
I'm reminded of the times when I played football with Muzzy, Stephen, Sean, and Shane; the Pogue Mahones. More than several times in 2005, we'd have 4 guys on the pitch playing against a team of 6. For the first 8-10 minutes or so, we held our own, possibly only allowing 1 or 2 goals. Then, we'd fall apart and proceed to get hammered for the remaining 30 minutes of the game, ultimately losing pretty impressively.
After those games, we'd always head straight to the pub and congratulate ourselves on our efforts. We always played ok, but were outmatched simply because we lacked a full squad. We told ourselves to be proud; other teams wouldn't have been able to hang in half as long as we did.
Well, I'm right smack in the middle of a cup final, against a team that, while not really any better than we are, happens to be well funded and has an unlimited number of players both on the pitch and on the reserves bench (feel free to say "Chelsea," if you like). We've played OK for a few minutes, but there's a lot of time left on the clock, and it's going to get brutal.
My analogy only works on one level, too. After all, I cannot and should not attempt to beat this team; they're my customer. (note - I might like a few quiet minutes in a dark alley with a couple of the folks that seem to go out of their way to kick us when we're down. C'mon, is it really necessary to point out that we're not sending out reports in a timely manner when we've just admitted that we're behind in sending out reports?)
I've been trying to figure out where we're going wrong with this project. I've certainly had moments where I could be making better decisions, and I think that goes for everyone in my company. We always seem to try and create a profitable program through smoke and mirrors, with one man behind a little screen. Sooner or later it catches up, and we all end up looking like fuckheads.
At any rate, that's pretty much the job update. One big Suck with a capital S. Plenty more of where that came from.
So, what am I doing about it? Looking for the humor in all of it, trying to keep my sanity, and trying to dig myself out. I will dig myself out, somehow or someway.
It's most unfortunate that my folks happened to be here during the roughest two weeks of the month. I did not see them nearly as much as I would have liked, and that's been a bit tough to handle. Here I was, in a perfectly appropriate moment to remark, "I want my mommy," and she was actually in town. Instead, however, I got a bit too caught up in myself and let them kind of fend for themselves more often than not. I think we managed to have dinner together five or six evenings.
My parents are quite the great human beings, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly during their time in Frankfurt. Sure, they would have preferred to spend more time with me, but also understood my complicated situation. They scouted out a bunch of great places in Sachsenhausen, which is the other hip district in Frankfurt. It's south of the river (how cool is it that there's a river running through my city?) and is full of nice little cafes and bars. My folks seemed to know everyone in the neighborhood by the end of their visit.
The three of us did get to celebrate Mother's Day together, though I was not in the best of form due to the fact that the previous evening I'd been to an open air concert involving Kim Wilde, no less, and had managed to consume some award winning amount of beer sold by the liter. Said concert involved a humorous moment where Stefan was kneeling down, calling Hieke to find out where she was standing. Stefan and I had gone on a potty break/beer run and gotten lost in the crowd of people. So, he was on the ground trying to hear the phone conversation, and I stood there holding the two liters of beer. A person standing in front of us put his girlfriend on his shoulders, which interrupted the view of someone behind us. The frustrated person ran forward to tell the guy to put his girl down, but knocked into me, causing me to spill most of the beer on Stefan, who stood up quickly with his back soaked in beer yelling, "shit shit shit!"
Ah well, it made for a good story later at the pub as we had a few more unnecessary beers.
I did manage to see the UEFA Cup and Champions League finals. UEFA Cup was quite the entertaining match, Champs League not so much. Actually, the FA Cup final wasn't all that hot either, now that I think about it. But, another season of football has ended, and now we wait until August when we start all over again. Yes, I know La Liga has a couple of games left, but Valencia has no chance of anything higher than fourth place.
As I look for the humor in life to help me through my rough spell, I realize that I'm a bit out of form. My mom and dad for sure noticed, and my barman has, too, just to name a few folks. It has always been difficult for me to try and skate through with a simple, "yeah, sure, everything is great!" even when it isn't. That said, I don't try to drag everyone into it, either.
So, even though there seems to be an absence of humorous events, I remember a few key moments of this past month: Going to the post office to pick up an autographed copy of Ian Rankin's The Naming of the Dead. I've just finished that book and feel a whole lot better about life. Thanks again, McKee.
Also, I finally got to have a chat with a guy who recently Maui'ed himself. The pix are great, Whit. Made me want to go buy some JCrew. (Please accept that as the compliment it was intended to be)
That song has been my theme song for the month of May.
28 days ago I wrote of my joy that my pub had reopened, my parents were coming to visit, and I was truly hoping that things would start settling down in the office, allowing me to have a nice month.
Boy was I ever wrong.
I've not had a particularly pleasant month at all. Virtually everything work related has gone tits up, as my colleagues in the UK frequently remark. However, I must clarify this statement. From an operations standpoint in my facility, my little program is starting to take off; we're making progress and doing pretty well. Colleagues are starting to take responsibility, and I'm encouraged that my efforts to build a program are showing result.
On the other hand, the project involves two repair sites and a call center. We've had quite a few problems in the call center, and the other site has had it's share of challenges. Furthermore, a few people involved in the management of the program have been off on holiday for a few days at various times during the month, and I've discovered that when they're absent, we absolutely fall apart.
At one point two weeks ago, I was trying to cover for about 4 people, and absolutely couldn't get everything done. Once or twice during that particular week, I was very nearly down for the count; unable to continue in the zany sicko world of program management in the repair logistics industry.
After this past week, I'd prefer the way it went two weeks back, simply shitty and horrible. This past week, I had the complete crap beat out of me no less than 150 times. Wednesday, after an unpleasant two hours on the phone with the European manager of a small program that I'm watching after, I hung up the phone and joined another conference call where the entire management team of my primary customer proceeded to yell and scream so loudly that the connection kept cutting out on the telephone.
Redundant as their message was, it was very clear that they're not satisfied with the way things are going. It's a bit annoying that they don't recognize their redundancy (each one basically said the exact same thing - the call center isn't performing, you've got a backlog, there aren't enough people working the issues, etc), but it's a bit humiliating that this is now the second time we've had this sort of teleconference. How come we didn't sort things out six weeks ago when they first told us their concerns?
Well, basically, we're trying to accomplish too much with too few people. This is a majorly complicated project that requires a fair amount of brain power. Unfortunately, there are three of us trying to make it all happen, and it's almost impossible, especially if the slightest thing goes wrong or someone is out of the office.
I'm reminded of the times when I played football with Muzzy, Stephen, Sean, and Shane; the Pogue Mahones. More than several times in 2005, we'd have 4 guys on the pitch playing against a team of 6. For the first 8-10 minutes or so, we held our own, possibly only allowing 1 or 2 goals. Then, we'd fall apart and proceed to get hammered for the remaining 30 minutes of the game, ultimately losing pretty impressively.
After those games, we'd always head straight to the pub and congratulate ourselves on our efforts. We always played ok, but were outmatched simply because we lacked a full squad. We told ourselves to be proud; other teams wouldn't have been able to hang in half as long as we did.
Well, I'm right smack in the middle of a cup final, against a team that, while not really any better than we are, happens to be well funded and has an unlimited number of players both on the pitch and on the reserves bench (feel free to say "Chelsea," if you like). We've played OK for a few minutes, but there's a lot of time left on the clock, and it's going to get brutal.
My analogy only works on one level, too. After all, I cannot and should not attempt to beat this team; they're my customer. (note - I might like a few quiet minutes in a dark alley with a couple of the folks that seem to go out of their way to kick us when we're down. C'mon, is it really necessary to point out that we're not sending out reports in a timely manner when we've just admitted that we're behind in sending out reports?)
I've been trying to figure out where we're going wrong with this project. I've certainly had moments where I could be making better decisions, and I think that goes for everyone in my company. We always seem to try and create a profitable program through smoke and mirrors, with one man behind a little screen. Sooner or later it catches up, and we all end up looking like fuckheads.
At any rate, that's pretty much the job update. One big Suck with a capital S. Plenty more of where that came from.
So, what am I doing about it? Looking for the humor in all of it, trying to keep my sanity, and trying to dig myself out. I will dig myself out, somehow or someway.
It's most unfortunate that my folks happened to be here during the roughest two weeks of the month. I did not see them nearly as much as I would have liked, and that's been a bit tough to handle. Here I was, in a perfectly appropriate moment to remark, "I want my mommy," and she was actually in town. Instead, however, I got a bit too caught up in myself and let them kind of fend for themselves more often than not. I think we managed to have dinner together five or six evenings.
My parents are quite the great human beings, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly during their time in Frankfurt. Sure, they would have preferred to spend more time with me, but also understood my complicated situation. They scouted out a bunch of great places in Sachsenhausen, which is the other hip district in Frankfurt. It's south of the river (how cool is it that there's a river running through my city?) and is full of nice little cafes and bars. My folks seemed to know everyone in the neighborhood by the end of their visit.
The three of us did get to celebrate Mother's Day together, though I was not in the best of form due to the fact that the previous evening I'd been to an open air concert involving Kim Wilde, no less, and had managed to consume some award winning amount of beer sold by the liter. Said concert involved a humorous moment where Stefan was kneeling down, calling Hieke to find out where she was standing. Stefan and I had gone on a potty break/beer run and gotten lost in the crowd of people. So, he was on the ground trying to hear the phone conversation, and I stood there holding the two liters of beer. A person standing in front of us put his girlfriend on his shoulders, which interrupted the view of someone behind us. The frustrated person ran forward to tell the guy to put his girl down, but knocked into me, causing me to spill most of the beer on Stefan, who stood up quickly with his back soaked in beer yelling, "shit shit shit!"
Ah well, it made for a good story later at the pub as we had a few more unnecessary beers.
I did manage to see the UEFA Cup and Champions League finals. UEFA Cup was quite the entertaining match, Champs League not so much. Actually, the FA Cup final wasn't all that hot either, now that I think about it. But, another season of football has ended, and now we wait until August when we start all over again. Yes, I know La Liga has a couple of games left, but Valencia has no chance of anything higher than fourth place.
As I look for the humor in life to help me through my rough spell, I realize that I'm a bit out of form. My mom and dad for sure noticed, and my barman has, too, just to name a few folks. It has always been difficult for me to try and skate through with a simple, "yeah, sure, everything is great!" even when it isn't. That said, I don't try to drag everyone into it, either.
So, even though there seems to be an absence of humorous events, I remember a few key moments of this past month: Going to the post office to pick up an autographed copy of Ian Rankin's The Naming of the Dead. I've just finished that book and feel a whole lot better about life. Thanks again, McKee.
Also, I finally got to have a chat with a guy who recently Maui'ed himself. The pix are great, Whit. Made me want to go buy some JCrew. (Please accept that as the compliment it was intended to be)
I started this piece earlier in the day, and have since gotten sidetracked by (go figure) work related things, but a brief skype with Pablo has made for a nice way to wrap things up. It's "halb acht," which is 7.30pm in english. Time to ratchet down for the day.
I believe I'll slip over to the pub for a couple, and perhaps prepare my schedule for the rest of the week.
keep the faith
bryan
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
A Slow Drowning
I'm absolutely swamped. Every day I go to work, I find myself four more hours behind. This might lead to the suggestion that perhaps I should just stop going to work, and that thought has crossed my mind.
Don't adjust your set, don't delete the bookmark, I'll get a few more stories put up in the near future.
cheers
bryan
Don't adjust your set, don't delete the bookmark, I'll get a few more stories put up in the near future.
cheers
bryan
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Normal Service Returned - The Bornheim Irish Pub is Open
I think my liver has been one of the happiest organs in my body over the past weeks as my local was closed for a quick renovation under the new owner. Sure, I made it out for a few drinks here and there at various places, but not with the same frequency as before. That's probably a good thing.
A place called Sugar sort of became my regular meeting point. It's not a very big place, a bit on the trendy side, and tends to sell more mixed drinks than beers. However, this is Germany after all, so you can always get a pils. What makes Sugar especially cool is that the front windows all open up, allowing for people to sit in the window sills. The biergarten has quite a few tables which tend to be full of patrons night after night, especially now with the super weather that Frankfurt is experiencing.
Stefan and I were in there last Friday night, and for whatever the reason, we decided that after three beers, we'd each have a margarita. Stefan had initially tried to talk me into a tequila shot, but gladly accepted the alternative suggestion. The barman scored points for presentation, but alas, the drink wasn't all that great. Probably a good thing, because I suddenly missed a few choice establishments on Lower Greenville in Dallas that were known for their tasty margs.
At any rate, Stefan ordered us mojitos for the next round, and things started getting a little fuzzy, but enjoyable. I'd been telling Stefan about my night out with Susi the previous evening; I hadn't seen her since the football hooligan pub night the week before. We'd actually had a good chat, sorted a few things out, and I was feeling much better about the whole situation. In fact, the whole week had been pretty good, thus the desire to celebrate with a few drinks.
"Was bedeutet beer before liquor never sicker auf Deutsch?" I asked Stefan as we crunched the ice from our mojitos. He acknowledged the phrase, but said there really isn't an equivalent expression in his language. With that, I ordered up a couple of long island iced teas, and upon my first sip, remembered why I just don't like that drink much. It is a preferred drink of Stefan, though probably not the most intelligent drink to order as our last round (of quite a few rounds) of the evening. Stefan noted that he was truly drunk and would struggle to get home, but that's what Friday nights are all about.
I asked for the bill, then handed cash to the barman to cover the entire tab. Stefan protested, albeit drunkenly. In Germany, everyone pays their own way. In fact, you'll frequently see a waitress struggling at a crowded table to sort out how much everyone owes. There's really no such thing as splitting the tab equally amongst the number of people at the table. This custom continues with couples, too. Most couples go dutch every single time.
This custom makes perfect sense, but it's a bit annoying for me. I tend to follow the traditional style of paying for a round, whether I collect the pints from the barman or the pints are brought by the waitress. What goes around comes around, right? I'd talked about this with Stefan, who kept asking, "but how to you keep everything even?"
It's funny, Germans in general do not care as much about money. Er, until they have to spend it, that is. My customary habit of covering a nights drinking really doesn't come from the fact that I don't care about money. It's just that years ago at college, no one really had any money, so we all turned to pooling our funds to buy beer, play pool, or whatever.
For most of my 20s, I lived paycheck to paycheck. Whoever had money usually paid, ensuring that everyone had a good time. Around close friends, this is fairly easy to manage. Someone who starts to take advantage of the situation tends to get closed out of the loop pretty quickly.
Once I started making enough money to save a bit more, I found myself enjoying the opportunity to "invite" someone for a drink from time to time. This is very common in Spain, and to some extent, not unusual in Germany. However, that tends to happen more in casual circumstances: an impromptu coffee with a few acquaintances, etc.
Around close friends, I've always tried to keep the bill pretty even, but still tend to pay a bit more than my share, just in case someone is a bit short. That was my idea at the end of Friday evening, when Stefan insisted that he pay his share. I indicated that I'd pay for the margaritas and the iced teas, but he wasn't comfortable with that. I pointed out that he could pay the bill the next time we were out for drinks, but he responded that he might forget. I mentioned that I would certainly remind him, then went on to relate some experiences from Dubliner and Old Monk days where sometimes we'd go weeks before settling up.
Stefan then said that his culture was different, and while he understood everything I was saying, he said he needed time to get used to it. I was pretty touched. Here I was, in effort to show that I valued his friendship more than money, was actually almost insulting him. But, he was trying not take offense and simply respect my own custom. Lesson learned.
Money sorted, we headed down the street, Stefan staggering all over the place. There are about five bars between Sugar and the corner of my street, and Stefan stopped and looked in each place. We almost stopped for a kebap, which would have been a horrible mistake, then paused in the doorway of the next trinkhalle. A couple of people were standing at the bar, and they invited us in. Oh the things you do at 3am in the morning. We had a last beer with them, and somehow I felt a bit more sober as I finished my glass. Home to bed. A nice way to finish the workweek and start the weekend.
I enjoyed a quiet Saturday, and stayed in that evening; the previous evening had been plenty. Besides, I knew I'd slip out for a few pints on Sunday afternoon while watching the Arsenal match.
How pleased I was on Sunday afternoon to see that my local had reopened: tables out on the terrace, people enjoying the sunshine. At last.
I had a good trip to the gym, then showered up and walked into the pub around 3.30 hoping to have a sandwich or something before the Arsenal match. Ray greeted me, and showed me the renovations that they had done in the past four weeks. Most importantly, the bar is much cleaner than before, and that's a huge plus. The fresh coats of paint, the rearrangement of the tables, the new sound system all look good, too.
My old stool was waiting for me, and I spent the next couple of hours just enjoying the return of the local. Arsenal didn't play all that well in their match against Fulham, but still won the game. Word was spreading quickly that the pub had reopened, so a lot of familiar faces were popping in for a pint or two. It was a bit of a reunion, if you will.
The pub had actually reopened the previous evening; I hadn't noticed because I was already in for the night. I was actually glad to have missed the opening, and Ray already said that the formal opening party wouldn't happen for a couple of weeks anyway.
I returned to the pub Monday night, hoping to see a lot of the folks that I hadn't seen in a few weeks, and was delighted to run into just about everyone I've met over the past months in Bornheim. English John and I greeted each other warmly, mentioning that we'd seen one another at the U-Bahn stop a couple of early mornings, neither of us wanting to talk much. We also planned to light the bar on fire (with a bit of zippo fuel) at some point in a few weeks, just for old times sake and to welcome the return of the pub.
In a way, the pub feels a bit different. Ray is a proper barman and has the place looking pretty sharp. But, not all of the old employees are back. It will take a bit of time before I can bring in music to play, but I'll slip something into the cd changer at some point. Still it's my local, and I'm pleased.
The first waitress that I met at the pub last December was a girl named Zena. She was exceptionally nice, but quit the job before the end of January. I heard later that she didn't get along with the owner. She works at a bank in Frankfurt along with her friend Heike, who's sister was actually the owner of the pub. Heike worked at the pub from time to time, also. Both of them came in about an hour after I arrived, and they made excellent company. Tomislav and Goran, my Serbian friends (and former employees of the pub) joined us and the five of us spent the next several hours chatting, laughing, and getting pretty oiled. Goran and I talked about the upcoming release of the Simonout album; Goran is spending a lot of time in the studio finishing the production. Zena has an awesome laugh, she tends to giggle constantly. So does Heike, for that matter. Both speak English very well, but pushed me to speak in German as much as possible. Practicing German with a couple of attractive German girls? Um, OK.
At 2.30am, we paid up, and all went our separate ways. An exceptional night, and I'm rewarded with a hell of a hangover today. Fortunately, it's May day, a holiday for much of Europe. So, I can recover without having to think much about work. Work is something I'll worry about on Wednesday.
Today is all about relaxing on my balcony, having a coffee, doing a bit of writing and guitar playing. I might have a shower later, but who knows.
I've been in Germany for five months, now. Pretty cool.
cheers
bryan
A place called Sugar sort of became my regular meeting point. It's not a very big place, a bit on the trendy side, and tends to sell more mixed drinks than beers. However, this is Germany after all, so you can always get a pils. What makes Sugar especially cool is that the front windows all open up, allowing for people to sit in the window sills. The biergarten has quite a few tables which tend to be full of patrons night after night, especially now with the super weather that Frankfurt is experiencing.
Stefan and I were in there last Friday night, and for whatever the reason, we decided that after three beers, we'd each have a margarita. Stefan had initially tried to talk me into a tequila shot, but gladly accepted the alternative suggestion. The barman scored points for presentation, but alas, the drink wasn't all that great. Probably a good thing, because I suddenly missed a few choice establishments on Lower Greenville in Dallas that were known for their tasty margs.
At any rate, Stefan ordered us mojitos for the next round, and things started getting a little fuzzy, but enjoyable. I'd been telling Stefan about my night out with Susi the previous evening; I hadn't seen her since the football hooligan pub night the week before. We'd actually had a good chat, sorted a few things out, and I was feeling much better about the whole situation. In fact, the whole week had been pretty good, thus the desire to celebrate with a few drinks.
"Was bedeutet beer before liquor never sicker auf Deutsch?" I asked Stefan as we crunched the ice from our mojitos. He acknowledged the phrase, but said there really isn't an equivalent expression in his language. With that, I ordered up a couple of long island iced teas, and upon my first sip, remembered why I just don't like that drink much. It is a preferred drink of Stefan, though probably not the most intelligent drink to order as our last round (of quite a few rounds) of the evening. Stefan noted that he was truly drunk and would struggle to get home, but that's what Friday nights are all about.
I asked for the bill, then handed cash to the barman to cover the entire tab. Stefan protested, albeit drunkenly. In Germany, everyone pays their own way. In fact, you'll frequently see a waitress struggling at a crowded table to sort out how much everyone owes. There's really no such thing as splitting the tab equally amongst the number of people at the table. This custom continues with couples, too. Most couples go dutch every single time.
This custom makes perfect sense, but it's a bit annoying for me. I tend to follow the traditional style of paying for a round, whether I collect the pints from the barman or the pints are brought by the waitress. What goes around comes around, right? I'd talked about this with Stefan, who kept asking, "but how to you keep everything even?"
It's funny, Germans in general do not care as much about money. Er, until they have to spend it, that is. My customary habit of covering a nights drinking really doesn't come from the fact that I don't care about money. It's just that years ago at college, no one really had any money, so we all turned to pooling our funds to buy beer, play pool, or whatever.
For most of my 20s, I lived paycheck to paycheck. Whoever had money usually paid, ensuring that everyone had a good time. Around close friends, this is fairly easy to manage. Someone who starts to take advantage of the situation tends to get closed out of the loop pretty quickly.
Once I started making enough money to save a bit more, I found myself enjoying the opportunity to "invite" someone for a drink from time to time. This is very common in Spain, and to some extent, not unusual in Germany. However, that tends to happen more in casual circumstances: an impromptu coffee with a few acquaintances, etc.
Around close friends, I've always tried to keep the bill pretty even, but still tend to pay a bit more than my share, just in case someone is a bit short. That was my idea at the end of Friday evening, when Stefan insisted that he pay his share. I indicated that I'd pay for the margaritas and the iced teas, but he wasn't comfortable with that. I pointed out that he could pay the bill the next time we were out for drinks, but he responded that he might forget. I mentioned that I would certainly remind him, then went on to relate some experiences from Dubliner and Old Monk days where sometimes we'd go weeks before settling up.
Stefan then said that his culture was different, and while he understood everything I was saying, he said he needed time to get used to it. I was pretty touched. Here I was, in effort to show that I valued his friendship more than money, was actually almost insulting him. But, he was trying not take offense and simply respect my own custom. Lesson learned.
Money sorted, we headed down the street, Stefan staggering all over the place. There are about five bars between Sugar and the corner of my street, and Stefan stopped and looked in each place. We almost stopped for a kebap, which would have been a horrible mistake, then paused in the doorway of the next trinkhalle. A couple of people were standing at the bar, and they invited us in. Oh the things you do at 3am in the morning. We had a last beer with them, and somehow I felt a bit more sober as I finished my glass. Home to bed. A nice way to finish the workweek and start the weekend.
I enjoyed a quiet Saturday, and stayed in that evening; the previous evening had been plenty. Besides, I knew I'd slip out for a few pints on Sunday afternoon while watching the Arsenal match.
How pleased I was on Sunday afternoon to see that my local had reopened: tables out on the terrace, people enjoying the sunshine. At last.
I had a good trip to the gym, then showered up and walked into the pub around 3.30 hoping to have a sandwich or something before the Arsenal match. Ray greeted me, and showed me the renovations that they had done in the past four weeks. Most importantly, the bar is much cleaner than before, and that's a huge plus. The fresh coats of paint, the rearrangement of the tables, the new sound system all look good, too.
My old stool was waiting for me, and I spent the next couple of hours just enjoying the return of the local. Arsenal didn't play all that well in their match against Fulham, but still won the game. Word was spreading quickly that the pub had reopened, so a lot of familiar faces were popping in for a pint or two. It was a bit of a reunion, if you will.
The pub had actually reopened the previous evening; I hadn't noticed because I was already in for the night. I was actually glad to have missed the opening, and Ray already said that the formal opening party wouldn't happen for a couple of weeks anyway.
I returned to the pub Monday night, hoping to see a lot of the folks that I hadn't seen in a few weeks, and was delighted to run into just about everyone I've met over the past months in Bornheim. English John and I greeted each other warmly, mentioning that we'd seen one another at the U-Bahn stop a couple of early mornings, neither of us wanting to talk much. We also planned to light the bar on fire (with a bit of zippo fuel) at some point in a few weeks, just for old times sake and to welcome the return of the pub.
In a way, the pub feels a bit different. Ray is a proper barman and has the place looking pretty sharp. But, not all of the old employees are back. It will take a bit of time before I can bring in music to play, but I'll slip something into the cd changer at some point. Still it's my local, and I'm pleased.
The first waitress that I met at the pub last December was a girl named Zena. She was exceptionally nice, but quit the job before the end of January. I heard later that she didn't get along with the owner. She works at a bank in Frankfurt along with her friend Heike, who's sister was actually the owner of the pub. Heike worked at the pub from time to time, also. Both of them came in about an hour after I arrived, and they made excellent company. Tomislav and Goran, my Serbian friends (and former employees of the pub) joined us and the five of us spent the next several hours chatting, laughing, and getting pretty oiled. Goran and I talked about the upcoming release of the Simonout album; Goran is spending a lot of time in the studio finishing the production. Zena has an awesome laugh, she tends to giggle constantly. So does Heike, for that matter. Both speak English very well, but pushed me to speak in German as much as possible. Practicing German with a couple of attractive German girls? Um, OK.
At 2.30am, we paid up, and all went our separate ways. An exceptional night, and I'm rewarded with a hell of a hangover today. Fortunately, it's May day, a holiday for much of Europe. So, I can recover without having to think much about work. Work is something I'll worry about on Wednesday.
Today is all about relaxing on my balcony, having a coffee, doing a bit of writing and guitar playing. I might have a shower later, but who knows.
I've been in Germany for five months, now. Pretty cool.
cheers
bryan
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