Just over a year ago, I made my first visit to Istanbul to visit a repair site that we were on-boarding. The first 24 hours were rather overwhelming, mainly because going through passport control was incredibly chaotic, and no sooner had I collected my luggage and met up with a colleague, we jumped in a taxi and hurtled across the city to the Asian side. The tax ride took about 2 and a half hours in heavy traffic; the driver (like everyone else, for that matter) tended to drive at full speed, then slam on their brakes right before plowing into the cars that had been jammed ahead of them. This made for a rather nerve wracking experience, so when we finally arrived at the hotel, we were greatly relieved, and exhausted.
However, the very next morning, after a brief chaotic taxi ride to the repair site, we paid our fare, then stood for a few minutes greeting our Turkish colleagues. Suddenly, a cat chased a rat up the pants leg of my German colleague. The whole experience was so surreal, and I remember thinking, "what the hell am I doing here?"
I remembered these incidents this past Monday as I headed to the airport to catch my flight to Istanbul; we had scheduled an audit of the very same repair facility. Indeed, things started out much the way they did last year. The flight was rather pleasant, but upon arrival in the airport, the passport control process was once again a rodeo. But, I got through without too much hassle, and after collecting my bag, met up with my colleague out in the arrivals lounge, and we went outside to the taxi stand.
This year, the 2 hour ride across the city in the taxi was not nearly as stressful as last year, although the traffic must have been just as busy. I think the trick this time round was that I did not pay attention to where or how the driver was actually driving. Thus, I was not so alarmed by the constant stop start tactics, and ultimately, I think that I simply knew what to expect. Thus, I just chatted with my colleague from the UK about the latest work gossip.
After checking in to the hotel, we ventured out to look for a restaurant. As the weather was quite pleasant, we decided to walk. We were not really sure where we were going, and as there were no visible street signs, we were not completely clear on where exactly we were. There is a particular street known for it's shops, cafes, and restaurants, and that became our intended destination, though we still were not sure how to get there. The whole area was primarily residential, as the Asian side of Istanbul is not particularly touristy.
Realizing we needed to ask for directions, I attempted to speak with a man at a little kiosk, and showed him the name of the shopping street that we wanted to go to. Though he spoke no English, he not only enthusiastically explained which direction we needed to walk, he came out of the kiosk and sort of watched us cross the street and continue on our way, just so he could be sure we understood the correct direction to take.
We walked for another 15 minutes, which included one rather harried moment as a car drove up onto the sidewalk that we were on, narrowly avoiding some other pedestrians, who were none too pleased with the situation. Indeed, one has to stay alert at all times, because cars come from all directions with very little compliance with the traffic laws (if there actually are any).
Finally, we found the street that we wanted to be on, and both of us elected to grab a beer and a burger at a pub. The waiter was polite, but spoke no English. Fortunately, we were able to order by pointing at the item on the menu, and everything worked out fine. From there, we walked all the way back to our hotel, but as the weather was still nice, it was an enjoyable 45 minute stroll.
During dinner, my colleague told me how his young son is absolutely fascinated by washing machines, and spends time watching washing machine commercials and reviews on television or streaming media. Additionally, his most favorite activity right now seems to be visiting a laundromat or appliance store, where he can play with all of the machines there. The story was very charming and sweet; I am forever touched by the imagination and innocence of little ones.
The next morning, we took a taxi to the repair site, and greeted our Turkish hosts. I had never met my counterpart at the repair facility before, so was very glad of the chance. We had two main points on our agenda: an audit of the facility and a physical inventory. Both of these were equally important, and both are typically very involved tasks. The audit demonstrates the compliance of the facility to all processes, and is always pretty stressful for the site being audited. That was the task of my colleague from Scotland. The challenge, of course, is that very few employees at the facility understand English, and the Scottish accent can be particularly difficult for those who do not speak English as their mother tongue. Truth be told, sometimes it is difficult to understand, even for me.
However, I have been on multiple audits with my colleague in various facilities around Europe, and always like to be there particularly to assist if there are any moments of confusion or misunderstanding. My colleague knows his job very well, but ultimately, I am responsible for the site. Thus, if they do not understand something, I need to make sure that we overcome any communication obstacles. Fortunately, the guys in Istanbul were pretty well prepared, and the first day of the audit went remarkably well. I sat in the background doing some other work, but keeping one ear open, to follow the course of the audit topics.
We sat in the conference room for most of the day, and periodically a woman would come in to take our drink orders. I tend to drink a lot of coffee throughout the day, and was a bit uncomfortable with the fact that someone was waiting on me. Normally, I am fine to simply arrange for my beverages on my own, but this is simply not how things work in this particular environment. That said, I was very humbled and embarrassed that I was not able to communicate in Turkish, initially, not even to express my thanks when the coffees arrived.
Later on in the afternoon during a break, we asked for a few brief language lessons, to at least learn how to say "thank you." One of the guys wrote the words on the white board, and from them on, I tried to say thanks at every opportunity: when the girl brought our coffees, when the security lady scanned me through the turnstile (when I had to go outside for a ciggy), etc.
That evening, the general manager of the facility, who happens to be Irish, took all of us out to dinner at a very nice restaurant that served various types of meats. This style of restaurant is quite popular in Istanbul, and we enjoyed various cuts of meat a la tapas style; the waiter would bring out a plate of steak, enough for the five of us to share, then bring out another meat after we had finished the first plate, and so on. It was most enjoyable, and afterwards we headed to a pub to watch a little football and continue the conversations with a few more beers.
I enjoy the post-work activities with partners and suppliers, as it gives everyone a chance to relax and develop the working relationship, but I never expect or demand it. After all, everyone has personal lives outside of work, with families and spouses and other activities. I never want to give someone the impression that they feel obligated to wine and dine me. But, when it does happen, I tend to enjoy the experience greatly. I have learned a lot about different cultures and people, and it makes this whole international business experience all the more rewarding.
The next morning, we were back on-site to finish up the audit and also perform the inventory. I was a little anxious about the inventory, because they usually are time consuming and tedious. Throw in the distraction of a major audit and the language barrier, and things could be very challenging. Once again, I was rather impressed with the preparations and controls that my supplier had in place. We had several thousand devices that needed to be counted, and my primary counterpart at the site had to bring in another colleague to help facilitate the inventory.
Leaving my colleague to continue with the audit, I went downstairs to the main warehouse to count the stock. We actually made quick work of the task at hand, and I found myself amazed at how well things were going. The stock room attendant was on the stick, but was unable to communicate in English. Thus, another guy was there to help translate. The two of them chattered back and forth during the counts. The previous evening, I had consulted my Turkish-German dictionary to get at least a feel for how one counts in Turkish. As I listened to the two guys, I realized that I did not have the slightest clue, as my new found level of Turkish was still limited only to a couple of words.
Once, as we were counting a particular part that had a very small quantity, I heard the stock room guy exclaim, "Oooch!" and then wrote the number 3 on the side of the box. I continue to be fascinated by language, and usually find a few words in each language (that I have a bit of experience with) that become my favorites, mainly because I like the way that they sound. Often, these words appeal to me for very childlike reasons. For example, in German, the word for "boo-boo" (yet another favorite word of mine) is "Aua." However, in English, we would say, "Ouch!" while Germans would say, "Aua!" Germans use that word as an exclamation as well as a noun, while in English, we do not, though I think it would be great to hear people exclaim "boo-boo!" when they stub their toe or whatever.
Tres, drei, three, and now üç (pronounced "ooch"). Pretty cool to be able to say the number three in four different languages.
Well, the inventory counts were bang on as we finished up in the main warehouse. I was extremely relieved, and figured that we could count the rest of the stock in the 2nd storage location after lunch.
That count also went very well, despite a few confusing moments when we discovered a storage bin that was mislabeled. By mid-afternoon, my inventory was complete and reconciled, and I needed only to compile all the files and submit them to my supply chain team.
Meanwhile, my colleague continued his audit, and around 7pm we reached a stopping point. As there are so many points to cover in the audit, the days tend to be quite long. Still, by 7.30, we had wrapped things up, and a few of us went to a restaurant called Numnum. Again, I kind of like the sound of the word, and after consulting an urban dictionary, I guess I should have realized earlier that the word basically means "snacks." This restaurant is a chain in Istanbul, and serves a variety of bar food that most Americans would recognize in any Chili's, Snuffer's, or any other sports bar type establishment.
Okay, I have spent a fair amount of my life frequenting places like this, and certainly in my hometown there are some places that are forever cherished, not only for the good times that I had there, but also for the tasty (albeit perhaps not so healthy) food. For those reading this that are familiar to Greenville Avenue, Numnum is quite a bit like the San Francisco Rose, and that is not a bad thing. Onion rings, chicken wings, good burgers and some impressive pizzas were on the menu, and as I sat on the patio with my colleagues, I felt a bit of nostalgia for some of those great times back when we were rarely concerned about healthy eating; I think once or twice Tim and I might have eaten at the Rose 7 nights on the trot.
Though I don't often crave bar food, I do enjoy the indulgence from time to time. Everything was tasty, and we all chatted away about Turkish history, the upcoming elections, and various other topics. It was a very nice evening, and as my colleague and I got back to the hotel, we both agreed that our hosts were really nice, genuine people. I think most people from Turkey are quite friendly and nice, but these guys gave me a really good impression.
Thursday morning came, and we checked out of the hotel and took a taxi back to the repair center for our wrap-up meetings. Our flights home were scheduled for later that afternoon, which meant we would need to leave by mid-day in order to allow for the 2 and half hour taxi ride to the airport.
My colleague had already done his on-line check in, so I decided to do the same thing, but soon found that my flight had already been cancelled.
After checking around on-line for a few minutes without finding any helpful information, I decided to go to the Frankfurt airport website, where the home page had a message stating that many workers, including the security and baggage people, were all on a one day strike, which was causing major disruptions. This strike had been announced on Tuesday, the day after I arrived in Istanbul, so I knew nothing about it. I contacted my travel agency in hopes of getting on a later flight, one that had not been cancelled, but alas, I was informed that it was fully booked. I would need to remain in Istanbul another night.
Initially, I was a bit irritated, because I was looking forward to returning home, despite the good week I had had so far. However, I accepted the facts, and my travel agent contacted me via telephone with some options for flights to Frankfurt on Friday. Our Turkish hosts had already told us about the second airport in Istanbul, which was on the Asian side, is more convenient to get to from their facility. I had never seen this option before in my previous trip, but the more I heard about the airport, it sounded like a really good idea. The airport was only 30 minutes away from the facility, smaller, and not nearly as congested as the main airport. So, I got myself booked on a noon flight for Friday, which would get me home by 3pm in the afternoon.
My UK colleague left to catch his flight on Thursday, and I remained at the facility to get some additional topics covered with the repair partner. I was actually glad for the extra time and it was quite productive.
Since our hosts had spent the past two evenings with us, they begged off on Thursday evening, as they needed to spend time with their families and wives. I was totally fine with this, and returned to the same hotel that I had checked out of earlier that morning. I was a bit surprised at the lack of recognition when I checked back in at the reception desk. The same person had checked me in on Monday evening, and the same bell-boy had taken my luggage up to my room. I was booked back into the exact same room as I had stayed in the past three nights, and I had the feeling that neither of the two employees recognized me whatsoever. It was if I had never been in the hotel. There were very few guests staying at the hotel, so I was a bit curious.
I contemplated a return to Numnum for more snacks, but in the end decided to eat in the hotel restaurant. I was the only patron, and was able to read quietly and enjoy a few beers. We had asked our hosts for another brief language lesson earlier that day, so I now was able to add a few more Turkish words to my vocabulary, which I tried out on the restaurant staff, with mixed results.
Business travel is pretty tiring, and it has been awhile since I have had to be on the road for a complete week. Thus, I was pretty exhausted when I went to bed, and glad to be heading home the next morning.
The next morning, I checked out of the hotel a second time. This time, the guy at reception did recognize me, and was a bit surprised to see me, and I explained what had happened. He got me a taxi, and I enjoyed a nice, traffic free ride along the coast to the airport, just enjoying the scenery. At the airport, you have to put all your bags through the x-ray machine before you actually get inside to the check-in area. Still, this process went much more smoothly than at the big airport. Once through the first security check, I got my boarding card and checked my luggage through, then went and stood in line at the passport control. This, too, was a bit hectic, but still manageable. Right after that, I went through security, and then headed straight for the duty-free shop.
I found time for a coffee, and waited for my flight, which turned out to be full. I was stuck between two rather large passengers, one very tall, and one rather overweight. Thus, it was a wee bit cramped, but tolerable.
We departed about 20 minutes late, but soon almost everyone was dozing, including myself. Once, I woke with a start, and realized that I had heard someone snoring. At first, I thought it was me, but as I sat there, I continued to hear the "Sknxxx," and it was coming from someone across the aisle. By this time, the cabin crew had started serving the meals, and they, too, were startled by the man's snoring; about every 30 seconds or so came another "Sknxxx!"
No one was too bothered by it, and I was particularly glad that it was not me.
By 3pm, we were touching down in Frankfurt, and I got through passport control and baggage pick up with no problems. 25 minutes later, I arrived back to my flat, and I immediately decided that I would simply begin the weekend. The weather was brilliant (and has remained so), and after a busy week, I was ready to unwind.
So, I have taken advantage of the nice weather and the time change (spring forward) and will get out and enjoy the rest of my Sunday in the sun.
see you out there.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Sunday, March 09, 2014
Sights and Sounds of the Start of Spring
The cold that I suffered from a few weeks ago took it's time in fading completely away. One of the main elements that lingered was my stopped up ear, which made for a kind of a strange sensation, as I clearly was not able to hear as well as normal on my left side. I found myself positioning myself differently to converse with people, just so I could better understand what they were saying.
My patience grew thin as I waited for that "pop" that would finally restore the normal hearing. Like with other ailments I have had from time to time, I briefly wondered, "what happens if this turns out to be permanent?" For example, a hangover might last about a day for me, and I normally have needed about a week to recover when I throw my back out, though the first two days are so excruciatingly painful that it seems more like a month. With a cold, I tend to need almost two weeks to fully recover.
Thus, for every day that my ear stayed a bit clogged, I reminded myself that the end of the second week was near, and soon this would be another thing of the past. Physically, I was feeling more than well enough to continue my regular, frequent gym visits. This year I have made more of an effort to improve my routine so that I visit the gym 3 or 4 times a week, rather than recent years where I seemed always to have to cram everything into Saturday and Sunday. Not surprisingly, the efforts have been paying off, and my fitness level is running reasonably high.
I confirmed this about a week ago, immediately after a workout. It was a rather busy afternoon, and the escalator going down to the U-Bahn platform was pretty full. Looking back, I am glad that I gave myself an extra step of space behind the woman directly in front of me. She seemed to be on the stick as well, because suddenly the older woman directly in front of her reached the bottom of the escalator and promptly fell down, blocking all of us that were still descending. Both the woman ahead of me and I immediately started doing "the stairmaster" in reverse, as we rapidly struggled to keep backing up the steps so as not to plow right over the unfortunate woman lying on the ground with her shopping bags strewn everywhere.
As bystanders rushed to aid the fallen woman, my little workout partner and I continued to back pedal for the next 15 seconds or so, which turned out to be a bit problematic, as the folks behind us could not immediately see what was suddenly creating a log jam on the escalator. We quickly found ourselves being pressured by the masses behind us, and somehow the woman kind of slid through a small space, and I sort of hopped over the railing and out of the way, which worked out well: the woman on the ground was helped quickly to safer place on the platform, which ultimately allowed the escalator riders to unclog without any further pile ups.
The incident was not all that serious, but likely could have been had we not reacted so quickly. The poor woman who fell merely stumbled, and as there were so many helpful people trying to assist her, I moved on down the platform and continued home on the next U-Bahn. I thought back to one of the times when I went snow skiing as a teenager; I was still learning to "stop" as I finished a run and approached the group of people all waiting for the ski-lift to take us back up the mountain. I was going at a pretty good clip and was fortunate that the man who I first plowed into had the good sense and strength to grab hold of me and prevent me from wiping out 15 more people. In both cases, no one was really injured, and we were all able to quickly find the humor in the experience.
An additional positive is that during the frantic moments on the escalator, my ear popped, finally restoring my hearing.
As the days start to get longer and spring approaches, I find that I am not sleeping all that restfully. True, I am dreaming about some pretty interesting stuff, like riding escalators and ski lifts, and the other night I actually woke up with a start after having dreamed that the streets and sidewalks in my neighborhood had all been replaced with mounds of sand, which made it a bit burdensome to walk around.
However, despite the vivid dreams, recent mornings I find myself lying in bed with no desire to immediately get up. Instead, I lie quietly listening to the sounds of early morning. The birds in particular are nice to listen to; they sing happily as they go about the start of their day. I allow myself a few minutes just enjoying the quiet, before rousting myself from under the covers to get started with my own day.
Yesterday was the first day that one could actually stand outside in shirt sleeves (at least in the sun), and truly spring is almost here. Everyone has to go through their little adjustments as the temperatures change, so in the next few days I am sure I will see some people wearing t-shirts walking down the street next to someone wearing a coat and scarf. But as far as I am concerned, I think that is perfectly ok.
Whether they enjoy their early mornings with a bit of singing and hold on to the railings while riding the escalator is a decision I will leave to them, but that certainly is my plan, and I am sticking to it.
see you out there.
My patience grew thin as I waited for that "pop" that would finally restore the normal hearing. Like with other ailments I have had from time to time, I briefly wondered, "what happens if this turns out to be permanent?" For example, a hangover might last about a day for me, and I normally have needed about a week to recover when I throw my back out, though the first two days are so excruciatingly painful that it seems more like a month. With a cold, I tend to need almost two weeks to fully recover.
Thus, for every day that my ear stayed a bit clogged, I reminded myself that the end of the second week was near, and soon this would be another thing of the past. Physically, I was feeling more than well enough to continue my regular, frequent gym visits. This year I have made more of an effort to improve my routine so that I visit the gym 3 or 4 times a week, rather than recent years where I seemed always to have to cram everything into Saturday and Sunday. Not surprisingly, the efforts have been paying off, and my fitness level is running reasonably high.
I confirmed this about a week ago, immediately after a workout. It was a rather busy afternoon, and the escalator going down to the U-Bahn platform was pretty full. Looking back, I am glad that I gave myself an extra step of space behind the woman directly in front of me. She seemed to be on the stick as well, because suddenly the older woman directly in front of her reached the bottom of the escalator and promptly fell down, blocking all of us that were still descending. Both the woman ahead of me and I immediately started doing "the stairmaster" in reverse, as we rapidly struggled to keep backing up the steps so as not to plow right over the unfortunate woman lying on the ground with her shopping bags strewn everywhere.
As bystanders rushed to aid the fallen woman, my little workout partner and I continued to back pedal for the next 15 seconds or so, which turned out to be a bit problematic, as the folks behind us could not immediately see what was suddenly creating a log jam on the escalator. We quickly found ourselves being pressured by the masses behind us, and somehow the woman kind of slid through a small space, and I sort of hopped over the railing and out of the way, which worked out well: the woman on the ground was helped quickly to safer place on the platform, which ultimately allowed the escalator riders to unclog without any further pile ups.
The incident was not all that serious, but likely could have been had we not reacted so quickly. The poor woman who fell merely stumbled, and as there were so many helpful people trying to assist her, I moved on down the platform and continued home on the next U-Bahn. I thought back to one of the times when I went snow skiing as a teenager; I was still learning to "stop" as I finished a run and approached the group of people all waiting for the ski-lift to take us back up the mountain. I was going at a pretty good clip and was fortunate that the man who I first plowed into had the good sense and strength to grab hold of me and prevent me from wiping out 15 more people. In both cases, no one was really injured, and we were all able to quickly find the humor in the experience.
An additional positive is that during the frantic moments on the escalator, my ear popped, finally restoring my hearing.
As the days start to get longer and spring approaches, I find that I am not sleeping all that restfully. True, I am dreaming about some pretty interesting stuff, like riding escalators and ski lifts, and the other night I actually woke up with a start after having dreamed that the streets and sidewalks in my neighborhood had all been replaced with mounds of sand, which made it a bit burdensome to walk around.
However, despite the vivid dreams, recent mornings I find myself lying in bed with no desire to immediately get up. Instead, I lie quietly listening to the sounds of early morning. The birds in particular are nice to listen to; they sing happily as they go about the start of their day. I allow myself a few minutes just enjoying the quiet, before rousting myself from under the covers to get started with my own day.
Yesterday was the first day that one could actually stand outside in shirt sleeves (at least in the sun), and truly spring is almost here. Everyone has to go through their little adjustments as the temperatures change, so in the next few days I am sure I will see some people wearing t-shirts walking down the street next to someone wearing a coat and scarf. But as far as I am concerned, I think that is perfectly ok.
Whether they enjoy their early mornings with a bit of singing and hold on to the railings while riding the escalator is a decision I will leave to them, but that certainly is my plan, and I am sticking to it.
see you out there.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
The Naivety of Being Ignorant, The Relief of Sanft und Frei Tempo, and Other Drippy Stories
Last Saturday morning I woke up feeling like I had swallowed a cup or two of dust. It was as if all the dust bunnies under my bed all ventured out of their warren and into my mouth during the night. My epiglottis seemed to have quadrupled in size, and I spent the first hour or two of the morning having a few cups of coffee and trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
I have been known to snore from time to time, and after a night of heavy snoring, I have had a similar feeling, but when I suddenly started sneezing later on that morning, I was not only irritated, but confused. Once, in college, while I was at a friend's house, some girl decided to get cute, and as we were all hanging out on the porch, she decided to try out a can of mace (or some other self-defense spray), and inadvertently sent a burst in my general direction. Due to the direction of the wind, I caught it more or less directly in the face, and spent the next half an hour sneezing nonstop.
Obviously it took me a bit of time before I found that particular incident amusing, but at least I knew why I was sneezing.
By lunchtime on Saturday, I was not feeling particularly amused, either, but apart from the sneezes, I was physically feeling fine. That said, I sat curiously around the house and skipped my trip to the gym, believing that I would not be able to get through a workout. I did, however, skype with my parents and my mother asked if I had a cold. Nope.
Sunday, the congestion and the sneezing continued, but I was determined to get to the gym and also watch the Arsenal match. During the afternoon match, I did have to blow my nose a few times, but otherwise felt okay.
Monday morning I woke up extra early, as I had to travel by train to a city several hours away. We had a meeting scheduled at 10am with the new president of our company. Though I usually work out of my home, I technically belong to that particular office location, so it was important that I be there to meet our new leader.
Armed with loads of tissues, I took the train at 5.45am, and two hours later my colleague picked me up at the station, and we drove another hour to our office. Thankfully, the sneezing episodes had mostly subsided. We arrived about 9.30, and I made the rounds to greet some of the colleagues that I do not see too often. After a couple of my attempts at making myself a coffee from the automated machine resulted in foamy milk spilling onto the counter, someone showed me how to properly use the machine, and I celebrated by taking my coffee downstairs and went outside for a cigarette.
I narrowly avoided getting hit by someone on a bicycle, then found that I was locked out of the entrance to the building, as one needs an access badge. I sheepishly pressed the button and explained to the receptionist that yes, I had just arrived 15 minutes ago, but yes, I had already managed to lock myself out of the building. She buzzed me back in, and was waiting for me at the top of the stairs with a guest badge.
No sooner had I settled myself at a spare desk when suddenly the floodgates opened, and my nose started running, and continued to run for the rest of the day.
We all gathered in the conference room to meet our new president, and after that meeting I had a 30 minute conversation with my boss. The whole time I held a kleenex to my nose.
Monday was certainly turning out to be a lousy day, and while I was not too concerned about the fact that I had used up most of tissue supply already (as there was a little drugstore across the way from the office where I could buy more), I was extremely irritated by the disruption. Every once in awhile, I needed to sneeze, but other than that, no aches, pains, or any feeling of having fever. Was I experiencing severe allergies? How many packets of tissue would I have to use during the 4 hour trip home? Would my nose ever stop running? How many of the train passengers would be annoyed that they were sitting next to a sneezy, drippy guy?
The answers to these questions came around 8pm that night, when I returned to Frankfurt: No, fuckloads, no, and fuckloads.
I woke up Tuesday morning with a runny nose, not surprisingly. I still felt physically fit, and was rather relieved that I could stay at home for the day. The work day was semi-productive, and during a break I headed to the store to pick up new supplies of tissues. When using the first tissue out of the pack, I found myself in the new position of having a stopped up ear. Neat.
At 6pm that evening, I logged off my work laptop, made myself some dinner, and figured it best to go to bed very early. My grandmother skyped me and we caught up briefly, but after a few minutes, I told her that I was a bit unwell and needed to ring off. I then immediately went to bed and stayed there for the next 12 hours, getting up each hour trying to clear my nose.
Wednesday morning brought me the realization that this was a cold, and not some bit of allergy. I was congested, which brought only the comfort that my nose was no longer running as freely as it had the previous 2 days. Unfortunately, I needed to travel by train that afternoon, and meet with a supplier (and our new president) on Thursday.
For a few hours I debated whether or not I should simply cancel the trip, but ultimately decided to catch an early afternoon train, which got me to the little town where my supplier is located shortly before 6pm. I checked into my little hotel and actually was feeling pretty good, save for the congestion (which now had noticeable impact on how my voice sounded) and the redness that my nose showed due to the 50,000 tissues I had used in the past days.
Wednesday evening was a big Champ's League night for me: Arsenal vs Bayern. Part of me was glad not to be in Frankfurt watching the match at my local, but truth be told, had I had been in Frankfurt, I probably would have stayed in, anyway. But, because of Thursday's visit to the supplier with our new executive, I knew it was important to try and make an impression; too many beers because of celebrating victory or commiserating loss might not go over so well Thursday morning, and the cold I was suffering would certainly not be helped either way.
In the end, I watched most of the match in the hotel restaurant, and despite the fact that my team lost, I went to bed knowing that we had not played that badly.
During the night, I must have had a bit of fever, but it did me some good. I woke up Thursday feeling ready for the day. Everyone would simply have to deal with my congested voice, but at least I was no longer drippy.
The supplier visit went ok, but I was glad when it was time to catch the train home. I was looking forward to one more day of working quietly from home, then the weekend. The train connections were all punctual, and as I found a seat in the bordbistro on my final transfer out of Cologne, I was almost delighted when four attractive girls sat in the same vicinity, and even more delighted that they were all Spanish.
I am certainly no head turner, and with a crusty red nose and voice affected by my cold, I was somewhat relieved that they ignored me and chatted amongst themselves. Meanwhile, I read my book and enjoyed a beer. During the 75 minute journey, there was a moment where I almost had to jump in and assist with the communication: once when the conductor came to check the tickets, and once when the guy in the restaurant car was taking drink orders. However, I did not feel so inclined to break out my spanish on the grounds that I did not want to find out how my voice sounded speaking spanish with a guiri accent and a cold. Fortunately, everything worked out without me having to say a word.
As we pulled into Frankfurt station and prepared to exit the train, I murmured "cuidado" to one of the girls (the cute brunette wearing the mini-skirt and the DMs) as she put her coat on; she had not realized that her purse strap was hooked onto arm of the seat. She smiled a thanks, and then, as usual, bupkis. I headed for the U-Bahn, and the girls headed off to wherever they were headed.
I threw my bags upstairs and headed to the pub for a couple of beers, though I was probably pushing my luck. I was only just feeling that I was over the worst of my cold, but I was relieved enough that the weekend was close that I figured it was worth the risk.
Having stayed in for most of the week, I greeted a few friends that I hadn't seen, and we talked about the incidents of my week: the confusion over what ailment I was suffering from, the fact that my voice sounded like shit, why our new president spoke to me in English despite the fact that our meeting had been conducted in German the whole day, and at what point does someone suffering from a cold's ear become unblocked.
It certainly was not a late night, and I woke up feeling rested Friday morning and celebrated the start of the weekend with a couple of pints later that evening. Despite feeling better each day, I have not completely recovered, thus spent most of the weekend lying low and catching up on a few films.
The goal for this upcoming week is to avoid any relapse and wait for my ear to become unstopped. I just realized that the stereo volume has been on louder than normal, and while there was a little Carter USM in my music mix this week, most of what I have been listening to has been a continuation of the electronic body music stuff, and that tends to have a bit of a darker, heavier edge to it. Sure, it needs to be listened to at a louder volume, but perhaps not at a volume that has been compensated for my decreased hearing.
My neighbors are already a bit annoyed by the fact that the trashbin in back of our apartment is overflowing with my used tissues. Now is not the time to aggravate them further with a noise disturbance.
At least not until my ear becomes unblocked.
see you out there
bryan
I have been known to snore from time to time, and after a night of heavy snoring, I have had a similar feeling, but when I suddenly started sneezing later on that morning, I was not only irritated, but confused. Once, in college, while I was at a friend's house, some girl decided to get cute, and as we were all hanging out on the porch, she decided to try out a can of mace (or some other self-defense spray), and inadvertently sent a burst in my general direction. Due to the direction of the wind, I caught it more or less directly in the face, and spent the next half an hour sneezing nonstop.
Obviously it took me a bit of time before I found that particular incident amusing, but at least I knew why I was sneezing.
By lunchtime on Saturday, I was not feeling particularly amused, either, but apart from the sneezes, I was physically feeling fine. That said, I sat curiously around the house and skipped my trip to the gym, believing that I would not be able to get through a workout. I did, however, skype with my parents and my mother asked if I had a cold. Nope.
Sunday, the congestion and the sneezing continued, but I was determined to get to the gym and also watch the Arsenal match. During the afternoon match, I did have to blow my nose a few times, but otherwise felt okay.
Monday morning I woke up extra early, as I had to travel by train to a city several hours away. We had a meeting scheduled at 10am with the new president of our company. Though I usually work out of my home, I technically belong to that particular office location, so it was important that I be there to meet our new leader.
Armed with loads of tissues, I took the train at 5.45am, and two hours later my colleague picked me up at the station, and we drove another hour to our office. Thankfully, the sneezing episodes had mostly subsided. We arrived about 9.30, and I made the rounds to greet some of the colleagues that I do not see too often. After a couple of my attempts at making myself a coffee from the automated machine resulted in foamy milk spilling onto the counter, someone showed me how to properly use the machine, and I celebrated by taking my coffee downstairs and went outside for a cigarette.
I narrowly avoided getting hit by someone on a bicycle, then found that I was locked out of the entrance to the building, as one needs an access badge. I sheepishly pressed the button and explained to the receptionist that yes, I had just arrived 15 minutes ago, but yes, I had already managed to lock myself out of the building. She buzzed me back in, and was waiting for me at the top of the stairs with a guest badge.
No sooner had I settled myself at a spare desk when suddenly the floodgates opened, and my nose started running, and continued to run for the rest of the day.
We all gathered in the conference room to meet our new president, and after that meeting I had a 30 minute conversation with my boss. The whole time I held a kleenex to my nose.
Monday was certainly turning out to be a lousy day, and while I was not too concerned about the fact that I had used up most of tissue supply already (as there was a little drugstore across the way from the office where I could buy more), I was extremely irritated by the disruption. Every once in awhile, I needed to sneeze, but other than that, no aches, pains, or any feeling of having fever. Was I experiencing severe allergies? How many packets of tissue would I have to use during the 4 hour trip home? Would my nose ever stop running? How many of the train passengers would be annoyed that they were sitting next to a sneezy, drippy guy?
The answers to these questions came around 8pm that night, when I returned to Frankfurt: No, fuckloads, no, and fuckloads.
I woke up Tuesday morning with a runny nose, not surprisingly. I still felt physically fit, and was rather relieved that I could stay at home for the day. The work day was semi-productive, and during a break I headed to the store to pick up new supplies of tissues. When using the first tissue out of the pack, I found myself in the new position of having a stopped up ear. Neat.
At 6pm that evening, I logged off my work laptop, made myself some dinner, and figured it best to go to bed very early. My grandmother skyped me and we caught up briefly, but after a few minutes, I told her that I was a bit unwell and needed to ring off. I then immediately went to bed and stayed there for the next 12 hours, getting up each hour trying to clear my nose.
Wednesday morning brought me the realization that this was a cold, and not some bit of allergy. I was congested, which brought only the comfort that my nose was no longer running as freely as it had the previous 2 days. Unfortunately, I needed to travel by train that afternoon, and meet with a supplier (and our new president) on Thursday.
For a few hours I debated whether or not I should simply cancel the trip, but ultimately decided to catch an early afternoon train, which got me to the little town where my supplier is located shortly before 6pm. I checked into my little hotel and actually was feeling pretty good, save for the congestion (which now had noticeable impact on how my voice sounded) and the redness that my nose showed due to the 50,000 tissues I had used in the past days.
Wednesday evening was a big Champ's League night for me: Arsenal vs Bayern. Part of me was glad not to be in Frankfurt watching the match at my local, but truth be told, had I had been in Frankfurt, I probably would have stayed in, anyway. But, because of Thursday's visit to the supplier with our new executive, I knew it was important to try and make an impression; too many beers because of celebrating victory or commiserating loss might not go over so well Thursday morning, and the cold I was suffering would certainly not be helped either way.
In the end, I watched most of the match in the hotel restaurant, and despite the fact that my team lost, I went to bed knowing that we had not played that badly.
During the night, I must have had a bit of fever, but it did me some good. I woke up Thursday feeling ready for the day. Everyone would simply have to deal with my congested voice, but at least I was no longer drippy.
The supplier visit went ok, but I was glad when it was time to catch the train home. I was looking forward to one more day of working quietly from home, then the weekend. The train connections were all punctual, and as I found a seat in the bordbistro on my final transfer out of Cologne, I was almost delighted when four attractive girls sat in the same vicinity, and even more delighted that they were all Spanish.
I am certainly no head turner, and with a crusty red nose and voice affected by my cold, I was somewhat relieved that they ignored me and chatted amongst themselves. Meanwhile, I read my book and enjoyed a beer. During the 75 minute journey, there was a moment where I almost had to jump in and assist with the communication: once when the conductor came to check the tickets, and once when the guy in the restaurant car was taking drink orders. However, I did not feel so inclined to break out my spanish on the grounds that I did not want to find out how my voice sounded speaking spanish with a guiri accent and a cold. Fortunately, everything worked out without me having to say a word.
As we pulled into Frankfurt station and prepared to exit the train, I murmured "cuidado" to one of the girls (the cute brunette wearing the mini-skirt and the DMs) as she put her coat on; she had not realized that her purse strap was hooked onto arm of the seat. She smiled a thanks, and then, as usual, bupkis. I headed for the U-Bahn, and the girls headed off to wherever they were headed.
I threw my bags upstairs and headed to the pub for a couple of beers, though I was probably pushing my luck. I was only just feeling that I was over the worst of my cold, but I was relieved enough that the weekend was close that I figured it was worth the risk.
Having stayed in for most of the week, I greeted a few friends that I hadn't seen, and we talked about the incidents of my week: the confusion over what ailment I was suffering from, the fact that my voice sounded like shit, why our new president spoke to me in English despite the fact that our meeting had been conducted in German the whole day, and at what point does someone suffering from a cold's ear become unblocked.
It certainly was not a late night, and I woke up feeling rested Friday morning and celebrated the start of the weekend with a couple of pints later that evening. Despite feeling better each day, I have not completely recovered, thus spent most of the weekend lying low and catching up on a few films.
The goal for this upcoming week is to avoid any relapse and wait for my ear to become unstopped. I just realized that the stereo volume has been on louder than normal, and while there was a little Carter USM in my music mix this week, most of what I have been listening to has been a continuation of the electronic body music stuff, and that tends to have a bit of a darker, heavier edge to it. Sure, it needs to be listened to at a louder volume, but perhaps not at a volume that has been compensated for my decreased hearing.
My neighbors are already a bit annoyed by the fact that the trashbin in back of our apartment is overflowing with my used tissues. Now is not the time to aggravate them further with a noise disturbance.
At least not until my ear becomes unblocked.
see you out there
bryan
Friday, February 07, 2014
Hunting Heads in a Mild Winter
Every week I seem to get an email or text from my mother or someone else stateside telling me just how cold it is this winter, and that is just in Texas. Likewise, I have lost count of the number of reports I have seen where another storm hits the Northeast or the upper Midwest.
Meanwhile, here in Germany, it continues to be very mild. OK, you still need a coat most days, and a couple of weeks ago I actually bought woolen socks for the very first time in my life. I didn't buy them on a whim, really. Instead, I happened to be doing some other shopping on a day when my feet were particularly cold, saw the socks, and thought, "why the hell not?"
I felt a bit silly the following day when the temperature got up almost to 11 degrees Celsius, but I have actually worn the socks on cooler days a few times since and been rather pleased (and cozy). I do not consider myself to be a wimp when it comes to tolerating cold weather, but I admit that after several years of living in a colder climate my body has acclimated. No longer do I run off to the grocery store in a sweatshirt and shorts on a chilly Saturday afternoon, frankly because it's, erm, cold.
Similar to the weather in my hometown, here in Frankfurt it can be sunny and pleasant one minute, and suddenly the temperature plummets and you are freezing your tail off. Thus, it makes sense to do the "layered" approach: piling on a a couple of shirts, a sweater, a jacket and a coat when it is cold, and when you are uncomfortable, just take another layer off. It used to really annoy me when going out to restaurants or pubs or shows, etc, because it always takes everyone a few minutes to unwrap after entering an establishment where the heating happens to be on full blast. However, I eventually stopped saying anything once I realized that I was actually doing the same thing.
I do smile from time to time when I see the little lost and found boxes that tend to be in a lot of places for those inevitable moments when someone leaves a scarf, a glove, or even a sweater behind before going out into the cold. This becomes even more comical at the end of a night in a crowded pub, when everyone is trying to find their coat and other articles. The scene is not that far different from the end of a normal school day at kindergarten or first grade, when all the kids troop off to the cloakroom to get ready to go home, scrambling to find their hat and mittens, and always forgetting something.
The other night, I met a few friends for dinner, and upon entering the restaurant, I took off my jacket, feeling comfortable enough in my long sleeve shirt and sweater. After dinner, we had a quick schnapps before I headed off to to a concert at a local venue just a few U-Bahn stops away.
I deliberately skipped the opening act, and as I approached the club entrance and saw the numbers of smokers standing outside, I knew that my timing was good. I grabbed a couple of beers and headed into the concert hall to find a place to stand. Though full, it was not so unbearably packed. I actually found a spot with a good view of the stage, and about 2 minutes later, Front 242 walked on stage a launched right into their set.
More than once on this blog I have acknowledged that my concert going experiences have dramatically reduced over the years, much to my annoyance. So, when I don't have any previous engagements or work travel to get in my way and basically do get my act together to actually get to a show, I tend to enjoy it thoroughly, particularly if it involves a group I have not seen before.
EBM has always had a pretty big influence on me, despite the fact that I never really was a huge fan of clubbing, and furthermore, I can't actually remember all that many electronica concerts. I can remember NOT being allowed to go to Front 242 back in Dallas in 1987, and how many more times they ever played in Texas, or the US, for that matter, i can only guess. Though I have always continued to listen to the heavy industrial stuff, I have not followed the scene all that closely.
But none of that matters when you are actually at the show, enjoying the beat, and just taking it for what it's worth. In this case, everyone at the show seemed to be about my age, and while we all can probably admit that we have aged a wee bit since 242 first came on the scene, things just seemed right. I certainly didn't feel over the hill, not by any stretch.
Before I knew it, they were playing their encore, and then the lights came up, and the crowd exited the hall. I met a few friends at the show, and, as none of us had checked our coats, we were able to just bypass the long line of folks waiting to get their jackets and head right outside and down the street to wait for the next U-Bahn, along with other concert-goers.
As we boarded the train, I heard someone behind me exclaim, "Shit, I left my scarf in the club!"
I zipped up my own jacket and smiled. It never stops.
Stay warm.
Meanwhile, here in Germany, it continues to be very mild. OK, you still need a coat most days, and a couple of weeks ago I actually bought woolen socks for the very first time in my life. I didn't buy them on a whim, really. Instead, I happened to be doing some other shopping on a day when my feet were particularly cold, saw the socks, and thought, "why the hell not?"
I felt a bit silly the following day when the temperature got up almost to 11 degrees Celsius, but I have actually worn the socks on cooler days a few times since and been rather pleased (and cozy). I do not consider myself to be a wimp when it comes to tolerating cold weather, but I admit that after several years of living in a colder climate my body has acclimated. No longer do I run off to the grocery store in a sweatshirt and shorts on a chilly Saturday afternoon, frankly because it's, erm, cold.
Similar to the weather in my hometown, here in Frankfurt it can be sunny and pleasant one minute, and suddenly the temperature plummets and you are freezing your tail off. Thus, it makes sense to do the "layered" approach: piling on a a couple of shirts, a sweater, a jacket and a coat when it is cold, and when you are uncomfortable, just take another layer off. It used to really annoy me when going out to restaurants or pubs or shows, etc, because it always takes everyone a few minutes to unwrap after entering an establishment where the heating happens to be on full blast. However, I eventually stopped saying anything once I realized that I was actually doing the same thing.
I do smile from time to time when I see the little lost and found boxes that tend to be in a lot of places for those inevitable moments when someone leaves a scarf, a glove, or even a sweater behind before going out into the cold. This becomes even more comical at the end of a night in a crowded pub, when everyone is trying to find their coat and other articles. The scene is not that far different from the end of a normal school day at kindergarten or first grade, when all the kids troop off to the cloakroom to get ready to go home, scrambling to find their hat and mittens, and always forgetting something.
The other night, I met a few friends for dinner, and upon entering the restaurant, I took off my jacket, feeling comfortable enough in my long sleeve shirt and sweater. After dinner, we had a quick schnapps before I headed off to to a concert at a local venue just a few U-Bahn stops away.
I deliberately skipped the opening act, and as I approached the club entrance and saw the numbers of smokers standing outside, I knew that my timing was good. I grabbed a couple of beers and headed into the concert hall to find a place to stand. Though full, it was not so unbearably packed. I actually found a spot with a good view of the stage, and about 2 minutes later, Front 242 walked on stage a launched right into their set.
More than once on this blog I have acknowledged that my concert going experiences have dramatically reduced over the years, much to my annoyance. So, when I don't have any previous engagements or work travel to get in my way and basically do get my act together to actually get to a show, I tend to enjoy it thoroughly, particularly if it involves a group I have not seen before.
EBM has always had a pretty big influence on me, despite the fact that I never really was a huge fan of clubbing, and furthermore, I can't actually remember all that many electronica concerts. I can remember NOT being allowed to go to Front 242 back in Dallas in 1987, and how many more times they ever played in Texas, or the US, for that matter, i can only guess. Though I have always continued to listen to the heavy industrial stuff, I have not followed the scene all that closely.
But none of that matters when you are actually at the show, enjoying the beat, and just taking it for what it's worth. In this case, everyone at the show seemed to be about my age, and while we all can probably admit that we have aged a wee bit since 242 first came on the scene, things just seemed right. I certainly didn't feel over the hill, not by any stretch.
Before I knew it, they were playing their encore, and then the lights came up, and the crowd exited the hall. I met a few friends at the show, and, as none of us had checked our coats, we were able to just bypass the long line of folks waiting to get their jackets and head right outside and down the street to wait for the next U-Bahn, along with other concert-goers.
As we boarded the train, I heard someone behind me exclaim, "Shit, I left my scarf in the club!"
I zipped up my own jacket and smiled. It never stops.
Stay warm.
Friday, January 31, 2014
The Benefits of Improving Vocabulary During Resturlaub
At the end of last year, I found myself in a bit of hot water with the HR department of my company, as I had a large number of unused vacation days as we approached 2014. I must admit that this topic has always been very challenging for me. As much as I like having time off, I come from a background where 10-15 days of holiday per year is the norm. Thus, living in a culture where I automatically get twice that amount of days each year has proven not only to be rewarding, but also a considerable obstacle. In the 7 years I have lived in Germany, I have yet to get my holiday planning in control.
OK, I fully understand that I work in an industry that is extremely volatile, and somehow, I have always worked in roles at companies where the pace is pretty frantic, and no matter how proactive you try to be, you always have to be able to react to the next challenge, problem, or opportunity. Over the years, I have feebly attempted to justify the reasons as to why I never seemed to take too many holidays to colleagues, friends, and family. Sometimes, my justifications were simply excuses, and sometimes it was clear that the time was not right to go off on holiday.
Quite a few friends have berated me about my work habits (long hours), my lack of vacations, and even my philosophy on the subject. However, many of those same friends have later on found themselves in similar situations, where work suddenly takes precedence over other elements of life.
I also have friends who work in equally challenging professions, and they, too, have commented from time to time about their struggles to plan vacations around very busy work schedules.
In short, it is not so easy to go off and plan to 30 days of holiday per year, plus the national holidays that pop up every other month, as well as complete all the tasks that your employer needs you to finish. Throw in a life that involves knowing people named "May" and "Hem," or "Com" and "Pletefuckingshambles," and I personally can fully understand that holiday planning is nigh on impossible.
Late last year I was particularly frustrated, as my HR department were really holding firm. I had to take my remaining days from 2013 by mid 2014, and likewise take all of my 2014 days during the same year. Laugh if you want, because having to take 3 months off from work can seem like a very nice problem to have. However, as I stated above, I work in an industry (that I very much like working in) where taking 3 months off is not really an option.
The key, of course, is planning.
Gulp.
Right, I admit that I am not so strong in this area, but have recently realized that I simply had to sit down and do it: come up with a plan on how to take all my holidays from 2013 and 2014 in one year. (For those of you who saw me during my vacations last year, I was taking holidays from 2011 and 2012)
I considered doing something a bit silly, like taking vacation "hours" at random points during the week. For example, I could say, "hi, i am on vacation from 12.30 to 15.30 today," which is exactly when one of my least favorite weekly conference calls takes place. I also considered taking every Friday off this year.
In the end, I came up with a bit of a compromise, including both ideas above, as well as some proper weeks off. I submitted my plan to my boss and the HR department, and more or less got things sorted. It was kind of a good exercise, and it is kind of neat knowing that I have mapped out all my days off for the year.
Rather than dillydally, I decided to jump right on to the vacation trail and took this last week off from work. It has been a quiet, relaxing, and productive week. I have done things that I wanted to, at my own pace. This has included a bit of work, but again, on the terms that I wanted. I have been able to plan (ironic, huh?) some of my projects and ongoing programs without too many distractions from customers or colleagues.
Additionally, I have had some down time where I could focus on some of "want to-dos" from my mental list. Although it was not really a new year's resolution, I have recently looked for new ways to improve my German ability.
While I am proud that I have been able to reach a certain level with the German language, I am constantly reminded that I am far from fluent. I can switch happily from English to German with few problems, both professionally and in private life, but do recognize that I should be reading and writing more. I have a tendency to write in English when under pressure, and all too often I tend to pick up a book in English as opposed to German.
A few weeks ago, I purchased a few grammar exercise books in my local bookstore in effort to do a little more self study. These are perfect for when I am sitting on the train, or in a random cafe. I can work on a few little exercises, and refresh (or relearn) my language skills.
I am still contemplating taking a proper German language course. I took private classes for several years, and because much of my daily life is in German, verbal communication is rarely a problem. (If you use it, you don't lose it). That said, sometimes I think it would be beneficial to regularly do "intercambios" with native speakers, particularly those who want to improve their English.
Reading for pleasure is a huge thing for me, but reading in a foreign language for pleasure requires some effort. I can probably read "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" in German without a problem, but a novel by Ian Rankin continues to be tedious, mainly because it takes longer to get through the vocabulary; there are always words that I have not experienced before. Unfortunately, I do not always have the patience to sit down with a novel and a dictionary, looking up words every few minutes.
But, this week, as I quietly have toodled around the house, I have tried to make myself more aware of opportunities to expand my vocabulary, not just from words I read in print, but also things I see or think about. For example, just across the garden that my balcony overlooks, they are constructing a new house. There are all sorts of construction equipment and guys with hard hats around. As a child, it was easy to be fascinated by any construction site, it was like seeing really big Tonka trucks in real life, just like the ones I was playing with.
I consulted my big picture dictionary and learned a few new words this week. True, neither der Tieflöffelbagger nor die Planierraupe rolls off my tongue with ease, but I am glad to know both of those words, even if I won't necessarily be able to use them all that regularly.
That said, I am going to enjoy the rest of today thinking of ways I can say "hydraulic shovel" and "bulldozer" next week when I return to work.
Here's to quiet, productive vacations. See you out there.
OK, I fully understand that I work in an industry that is extremely volatile, and somehow, I have always worked in roles at companies where the pace is pretty frantic, and no matter how proactive you try to be, you always have to be able to react to the next challenge, problem, or opportunity. Over the years, I have feebly attempted to justify the reasons as to why I never seemed to take too many holidays to colleagues, friends, and family. Sometimes, my justifications were simply excuses, and sometimes it was clear that the time was not right to go off on holiday.
Quite a few friends have berated me about my work habits (long hours), my lack of vacations, and even my philosophy on the subject. However, many of those same friends have later on found themselves in similar situations, where work suddenly takes precedence over other elements of life.
I also have friends who work in equally challenging professions, and they, too, have commented from time to time about their struggles to plan vacations around very busy work schedules.
In short, it is not so easy to go off and plan to 30 days of holiday per year, plus the national holidays that pop up every other month, as well as complete all the tasks that your employer needs you to finish. Throw in a life that involves knowing people named "May" and "Hem," or "Com" and "Pletefuckingshambles," and I personally can fully understand that holiday planning is nigh on impossible.
Late last year I was particularly frustrated, as my HR department were really holding firm. I had to take my remaining days from 2013 by mid 2014, and likewise take all of my 2014 days during the same year. Laugh if you want, because having to take 3 months off from work can seem like a very nice problem to have. However, as I stated above, I work in an industry (that I very much like working in) where taking 3 months off is not really an option.
The key, of course, is planning.
Gulp.
Right, I admit that I am not so strong in this area, but have recently realized that I simply had to sit down and do it: come up with a plan on how to take all my holidays from 2013 and 2014 in one year. (For those of you who saw me during my vacations last year, I was taking holidays from 2011 and 2012)
I considered doing something a bit silly, like taking vacation "hours" at random points during the week. For example, I could say, "hi, i am on vacation from 12.30 to 15.30 today," which is exactly when one of my least favorite weekly conference calls takes place. I also considered taking every Friday off this year.
In the end, I came up with a bit of a compromise, including both ideas above, as well as some proper weeks off. I submitted my plan to my boss and the HR department, and more or less got things sorted. It was kind of a good exercise, and it is kind of neat knowing that I have mapped out all my days off for the year.
Rather than dillydally, I decided to jump right on to the vacation trail and took this last week off from work. It has been a quiet, relaxing, and productive week. I have done things that I wanted to, at my own pace. This has included a bit of work, but again, on the terms that I wanted. I have been able to plan (ironic, huh?) some of my projects and ongoing programs without too many distractions from customers or colleagues.
Additionally, I have had some down time where I could focus on some of "want to-dos" from my mental list. Although it was not really a new year's resolution, I have recently looked for new ways to improve my German ability.
While I am proud that I have been able to reach a certain level with the German language, I am constantly reminded that I am far from fluent. I can switch happily from English to German with few problems, both professionally and in private life, but do recognize that I should be reading and writing more. I have a tendency to write in English when under pressure, and all too often I tend to pick up a book in English as opposed to German.
A few weeks ago, I purchased a few grammar exercise books in my local bookstore in effort to do a little more self study. These are perfect for when I am sitting on the train, or in a random cafe. I can work on a few little exercises, and refresh (or relearn) my language skills.
I am still contemplating taking a proper German language course. I took private classes for several years, and because much of my daily life is in German, verbal communication is rarely a problem. (If you use it, you don't lose it). That said, sometimes I think it would be beneficial to regularly do "intercambios" with native speakers, particularly those who want to improve their English.
Reading for pleasure is a huge thing for me, but reading in a foreign language for pleasure requires some effort. I can probably read "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" in German without a problem, but a novel by Ian Rankin continues to be tedious, mainly because it takes longer to get through the vocabulary; there are always words that I have not experienced before. Unfortunately, I do not always have the patience to sit down with a novel and a dictionary, looking up words every few minutes.
But, this week, as I quietly have toodled around the house, I have tried to make myself more aware of opportunities to expand my vocabulary, not just from words I read in print, but also things I see or think about. For example, just across the garden that my balcony overlooks, they are constructing a new house. There are all sorts of construction equipment and guys with hard hats around. As a child, it was easy to be fascinated by any construction site, it was like seeing really big Tonka trucks in real life, just like the ones I was playing with.
I consulted my big picture dictionary and learned a few new words this week. True, neither der Tieflöffelbagger nor die Planierraupe rolls off my tongue with ease, but I am glad to know both of those words, even if I won't necessarily be able to use them all that regularly.
That said, I am going to enjoy the rest of today thinking of ways I can say "hydraulic shovel" and "bulldozer" next week when I return to work.
Here's to quiet, productive vacations. See you out there.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
The Bottom Line
A few weeks ago during the Christmas break, we took a little day trip to a town about an hour away from Valencia. I was sitting in the backseat of the car, collecting my thoughts and enjoying the ride. My brother-in-law put a mix on the stereo, a mix of tunes that he had put together for a party a few years before. I knew all of the songs, which was really no surprise considering that my brother-in-law and I come from the same era. As I listened to the intro to one song, I kind of smiled at the memories; I hadn't heard the song in quite a while, and prepared to sing along.
"The horses are on the track," came a voice to my right, just as I was opening my mouth to say the exact same thing.
I turned in surprise to my nephew sitting next to me. "You know this song?" I asked.
"Sure, Uncle B," he responded. "I think it is a great song except for when the guy sings.
"Well, we can't all have a voice as good as yours," I commented jokingly, then went on to sing the rest of the song with my nephew, kind of a nice bonding moment. This is probably the first time that he has expressed interest in my music.
Of course, the fact that he knows the song is no surprise. Obviously he has ridden countless times in the car with his parents and listened to whatever they were listening to. When I was his age, I, too, listened to whatever my parents were listening to, and as a result, I am fairly well versed in the likes of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Tony Bennett.
That said, I certainly would not call myself a fan of those three singers, just like I would not expect my nephew to be a fan of Big Audio Dynamite. Still, I think it is pretty cool, all the same.
Over the past several years, I have noticed that I do not listen to music nearly as often as I did before, and while there are a variety of reasons for why that is, it kind of took this brief moment with my nephew to remind me of what I am missing. Sure, there are loads of excuses, such as being too busy or whatever, but those excuses are pretty lame.
True, I can remember (fondy, I might add) spending complete Saturday mornings sitting around the house doing nothing more than grooving to tunes, only to feel guilty half a day later that I had done sod all. Sure, this was not such a significant problem for me 20 years ago. Who hasn´t spent the better part of a day reading liner notes to a few records? But now, I do home office, and perhaps it not so easy to explain away the work day by having to get up every 3 minutes and dance around to whatever is shuffling on my stereo?
Sigh. Those were the days, eh?
I think I needed this catalyst from my nephew to sort of kick me back into gear. For years, I proudly told anyone and everyone that I would NEVER become that guy that stopped going to shows, NEVER stop listening to music, or worst of all, to STOP allowing music to remain such a huge influence in my life.
Unfortunately, that is what I have become, or should I say, had become.
The bottom line is, the decisions rest with me, so here I sit happily on a Saturday morning, rediscovering some wonderful tracks, singing along (dancing optional) and preparing to say, "hey, I have spent the last four hours doing something really great."
It's not a bad start to the weekend, finding the starlight, keeping the faith, and realizing once again how important music really is to me.
Thanks for the reminder, Bubba, I almost forgot.
"The horses are on the track," came a voice to my right, just as I was opening my mouth to say the exact same thing.
I turned in surprise to my nephew sitting next to me. "You know this song?" I asked.
"Sure, Uncle B," he responded. "I think it is a great song except for when the guy sings.
"Well, we can't all have a voice as good as yours," I commented jokingly, then went on to sing the rest of the song with my nephew, kind of a nice bonding moment. This is probably the first time that he has expressed interest in my music.
Of course, the fact that he knows the song is no surprise. Obviously he has ridden countless times in the car with his parents and listened to whatever they were listening to. When I was his age, I, too, listened to whatever my parents were listening to, and as a result, I am fairly well versed in the likes of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Tony Bennett.
That said, I certainly would not call myself a fan of those three singers, just like I would not expect my nephew to be a fan of Big Audio Dynamite. Still, I think it is pretty cool, all the same.
Over the past several years, I have noticed that I do not listen to music nearly as often as I did before, and while there are a variety of reasons for why that is, it kind of took this brief moment with my nephew to remind me of what I am missing. Sure, there are loads of excuses, such as being too busy or whatever, but those excuses are pretty lame.
True, I can remember (fondy, I might add) spending complete Saturday mornings sitting around the house doing nothing more than grooving to tunes, only to feel guilty half a day later that I had done sod all. Sure, this was not such a significant problem for me 20 years ago. Who hasn´t spent the better part of a day reading liner notes to a few records? But now, I do home office, and perhaps it not so easy to explain away the work day by having to get up every 3 minutes and dance around to whatever is shuffling on my stereo?
Sigh. Those were the days, eh?
I think I needed this catalyst from my nephew to sort of kick me back into gear. For years, I proudly told anyone and everyone that I would NEVER become that guy that stopped going to shows, NEVER stop listening to music, or worst of all, to STOP allowing music to remain such a huge influence in my life.
Unfortunately, that is what I have become, or should I say, had become.
The bottom line is, the decisions rest with me, so here I sit happily on a Saturday morning, rediscovering some wonderful tracks, singing along (dancing optional) and preparing to say, "hey, I have spent the last four hours doing something really great."
It's not a bad start to the weekend, finding the starlight, keeping the faith, and realizing once again how important music really is to me.
Thanks for the reminder, Bubba, I almost forgot.
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