Last weekend, Maria gave me a little PlayMobil character that Chris's daughter had accidentally taken from their flat during their July visit. She had given the toy, which was a little girl on a skateboard, to Maria, who returned it to me so that I could return it to the actual little girl (sans skateboard) whose toy it actually was.
The couple that rented their flat out to Chris had a very impressive collection of PlayMobil stuff for their young daughter. Part of me thought that one little character probably would not be missed, but I still felt it best to try and return it to its rightful owner. The problem was, I do know this family, even though the woman works in the restaurant across the street from my house.
Monday evening as I walked towards the Kiosk to meet up with Mono and everyone, I debated whether to stick my head in the restaurant and ask if the woman was working, but could not figure out how to approach the task; how exactly does one walk into a really crowded restaurant, hold up a PlayMobil character, and ask, "Hi, is Angela working? I wanted to give her this toy back."
I was probably overthinking the whole thing, but no matter. When passing another pub on my walk down the street, I glanced over and noticed a couple having dinner with their young daughter. Although I had never actually met the couple who rented their flat to Chris, I had a vague idea of what the woman looked like, and the woman sitting in the pub seemed to be her. Besides, the daughter had a scooter parked at the table, along with various other toys to keep her occupied, and that fit with the type of girl who had the entire PlayMobil collection (from 1970-2017) at her disposal.
After a quick greeting to Mono (and a pull on my beer), I explained the situation, which seemed the right thing to do as he was with me when Maria had brought the toy back at the weekend. I went back to the pub and had a quick word with the waiter, who confirmed that they were the people I was looking for. I dashed home and upstairs to get the toy, then returned to where the family was sitting. (This took all of 4 minutes. One has to understand where I live in relation to these pubs and the Kiosk....mere steps away)
I approached their table with a smile on my face, then proceeded to make a complete fucking idiot of myself as I tried to greet them, ask if they were who I thought they were, and introduce myself, all in a non-threatening way, while trying not to disturb their dinner. Unfortunately, everything I wanted to say all came out at once, and could not have been more incoherent.
The husband and wife gave me blank stares, and I was just glad that I had not been holding the PlayMobil character in my hand; it was tucked in my pocket. I tried again, taking breaths this time, and I was relieved when the father started nodding his head with the understanding that I was the local "friend" of their recent AirBnB guests. We made quick introductions, and then I ceremoniously placed the toy on the table in front of the daughter, who hardly looked up from the game she was playing on her tablet.
The mother then asked me a rather obvious question, "How did you know we were here?"
Rather than risk further embarrassment, I kept my words as brief as possible, saying something about the size of the neighborhood. Then, I wished them a pleasant evening, and humbly walked back to the safety of the Kiosk and my bottle of beer.
Although it wasn't really any big deal, it did make for kind of an interesting start to the week.
The rest of the week has been fairly uneventful. One evening I inadvertently made a video Whatsapp call to my father, which allowed us to briefly catch up. I skipped the story about the return of the PlayMobil character, which was probably for the best.
Finally, a few words about music, especially those tunes that get stuck in my head. I continue to spend several hours a week at the piano, so most of the time I am thinking about various melodies composed by the artist I am studying. A lot of his stuff is a bit complicated, so I am constantly thinking my way through arpeggio progressions and trying to figure out how I get my fingers can play what my brain is telling me.
Having a bunch of melodies composed by Ludovico Einaudi in my head is quite a pleasant experience, and is pretty easy to explain. However, I am still searching for a plausible explanation as to why, when I am really concentrating on an excel spreadsheet or analyzing data, I always seem to whistle the theme to the Smurfs under my breath. Equally mysterious to me is why I start humming "Good King Wenceslas" every time I go to the grocery store, regardless of the season.
Ah well, somebody has to be the enigma known as Bryan, and it might as well be me.
Meanwhile, over the last couple of weeks, I have started thinking about a song from the 70s that I used to hear regularly on the radio when I was playing in my room. The particular song was in no way a favorite of mine, but I just remember hearing it with regularity when I was eight or nine years old. Obviously, it was popular, but there is really no explanation as to why the song popped back into my head forty years later.
I am not a user of any of the song recognition apps that are out there, like Shazam or Soundhound, and furthermore, I really only had the saxophone solo melody as a reference; the rest of the song was pretty generic, at least in my head. In fact, many songs I heard on mainstream radio at that age all sort of ran together. It would be another year or two before I consciously was following music and music groups. Until then, I could only vaguely recall certain group names.
But, this song has stuck with me and was starting to drive me nuts. When I woke up yesterday morning, I knew I had to find out the name of the song and the artist. Pronto.
I made myself a coffee and sat down to do a quick internet search. I found a couple of compilations of 70s Hits, but none of the artists or titles seemed familiar . Of course, I knew neither the title nor the artist, so to what extent this "familiarity" would prove relevant was wide open. I managed to find a compilation that someone had put up on youtube, which yielded a result: the song I was looking for was the third track in the compilation.
Unfortunately, the guy who posted the compilation apparently put together the mix himself and did not bother to list the tracks or artists.
Bugger.
Still, I persisted, and 10 minutes later found the same song and thankfully, the track listing.
Mystery solved.
Later on yesterday afternoon, I was still thinking about the song as I walking down the street. I had never heard of the artist, and certainly did not know the song title. Not back then, anyway. I had always known the song as "that song where the saxophone goes wa-wah-wah-wa-wa-waaaahhhh."
Amazingly enough, I was passing a couple of folks who were doing something with their mobile phone. Perhaps I did not realize that I had been humming the saxophone solo out loud, but a few steps further along, I heard one remark to the other, "Hey, do you know who Gerry Rafferty is? And why the hell is this song "Baker Street" coming up on my phone?"
Hmm. Probably best to get started on the weekend.
see you out there
bryan
Friday, August 25, 2017
Friday, August 18, 2017
Parental Sightings and Celebrating the Kerb
"Please, call me Gordon."
"OK, Mr. Lipsett," I responded, realizing that I would never be able to make the cross-over to the use of first names with people in my parents generation, and certainly not with the husband of my piano teacher.
That conversation took place about 30 years ago, when I was back in town from college for the weekend and was greeting the couple at church.
Sure, I have related this story several times over the years, and I always found it fascinating and somewhat humbling that I have still never been able to make this switch. I simply address people that I met during my childhood and adolescence as Mr. and Mrs.; it makes no difference how old we happen to be now. The gender gap still remains, even if I met these people 30 or 40 years ago.
My parents have made a few comments about this over the years. During my 20s and early 30s when we would be out and about together, I would frequently hear my father introduce himself to a friend of mine (in my age group) as Sam, which came as no real surprise. In fact, any time that I would meet a parent of a friend of mine that I did not ever know during my school years, I would also start in with them on a first name basis.
I remember one time that my folks and I were debating this topic at the Old Monk, and I turned to my buddy Pablo and said, "Hey Pablo, my dad has a question for you."
"Sure, Mr. Barlow, what would you like to know?" my friend asked.
10 minutes when Chris arrived to the pub, he greeted my parents with a big "Hello Mr and Mrs Barlow," which helped me prove my point.
"See, mom, it is not just me that does this," I explained, feeling really grateful that I was not the only guy who still seemingly acts like a little kid around adults. The actual age one is has less to do with it; for me, it's really more about the situation and the feeling.
True, I do recognize that it may sound rather formal when addressing someone as Mr or Mrs. I was recently in a meeting with a woman who is a few years older than me, and she pointed out that she expected to use the formal German communication, which puts us in the Herr Barlow or Frau So and So mode. Of course, this is pretty standard in Germany. It is normal that colleagues at work, regardless of their age, address one another formally.
I suspect it is partially for that reason that I still address a German friend's parents as Herr and Frau Losse. That being said, the feeling that I have always had with them is that they are both very nurturing and caring parents, which basically indicates to me that, had I met them 30 some odd years ago with the Herr and Frau bit, I would never be able to change to a first name basis with them, even if they asked me to. In fact, I think one time Nadja's mom did ask me to call by her first name, and I, of course, responded with, "OK, Frau Losse."
Maybe it is a bit of nostalgia, or perhaps it is just a bit of willful innocence on my part. But, despite not being a parent, I greatly respect the art of parenting and am particularly touched when I see how parents interact with not only their offspring but also the friends of their offspring. There is quite a bit of comfort I get from observing these relationships, especially when I can immediately see how much love exists.
We all have probably had our "roll the eyes" moments when our parents have done something to embarrass us, and maybe sometimes our opinions are not the same as our parents, but it is still family. Besides, I certainly am aware that I have embarrassed my parents on frequent occasions, though I hope that those times are becoming less frequent. Regardless, the love and the nurturing remains. This is really key for me and I have a lot of experiences recently which continue to keep me feeling warm and fuzzy.
As I have written in the past few weeks, the summer has been pretty good, almost exceptional. One of the events that helps bring the summer to a close is our local festival: Bernemer Kerb. This year marks the 410th (yep, you read that correctly) year of the celebration. I may have only participated in the past 10-11 years, but I got here as quickly as I could.
OK, the celebration involves rather large amounts of alcohol, but it is really a festive atmosphere, especially when the weather is nice and everyone comes out to enjoy the scene. Last Saturday, immediately after finishing my last post, I went to the gym, got in a little workout, then found myself wandering over to the pub to catch the second half of a football match. As much as I enjoyed having a few beers on an early Saturday afternoon, I realized that the early start would make things a little complicated later on the evening; the parade itself wasn't going to start for another few hours.
Na ja, it is afternoons like these when one simply throws caution to the wind (and the rain, as it were). By parade time, I was still holding up, but knew I would not be the last guy standing. Fortunately at that moment, I was still able to stand, and spent a few minutes catching up with some friends as we watched the floats pass by. Maybe float is not quite the right word, but at least we watched the wagons roll by, filled with revelers (many of which clearly started their beer consumption before I had) throwing various gifts to the crowd: candy, little trinkets, etc.
I was standing with 3 couples who all had young children, ranging in age from 6 months to 6 years.
Not only do I know these kids, but I also know their parents, as they have been around since my arrival in Frankfurt 11 years ago. Back then, we spent a lot of time closing the bars and staying out too late. As fun as that was at the time, I quite like the way things are now, where these new parents are more interested in nurturing their little ones. This may be seem like a very normal thing, but over the years I have sadly realized that it is not something to be taken for granted, and the facts are: too often what I always assumed to be a normal relationship with parents and their kids, a relationship of love, is not necessarily the case.
At any rate, watching the kids laugh and clap their hands (OK the 6 month old was taking a nap) as they tried to catch the candy being tossed to them was quite endearing. They were in their own little worlds, but a world where they knew their parents were right there with them, loving them.
I happen to have met the parents of all three couples, and although I don't know all of them that well, I always had the feeling that those parents are similar to my own; loving, caring parents. To see their children (my friends) behave in similar fashion does not really surprise me, but it still impresses me.
Feeling comfortably numb (part beer, part nice family experience), I continued celebrating the Saturday evening, chatting with everyone who came out to the festival. It is always a nice chance to see old friends while making new friends at the same time. Sobriety is optional, and what is always funny is that everyone seems to double their normal intake without getting completely waxed.
That being said, my shutters came down around 10pm, which, looking back, wasn't THAT bad of a run, since I had started about 2pm.
Of course, Sunday morning I woke up feeling like I would need to stay in bed for most of the day. Unfortunately, I had made some plans to meet up with a colleague during the early afternoon, and I also had tentative plans for dinner. It took a lot of effort on my part, but I found myself back in the pub Sunday lunch time to watch a match with a friend and his wife. I opted for water instead of beer, which created a lot of confusion for the staff of the pub; this was highly out of character.
However, I noticed that most of the staff were also looking a little tired, so they appreciated my condition. There was a certain amount of hangover that was contributing to how I felt, but I was also very keen to avoid a repeat of the previous day, where by 17h30 I was already 6 beers in. At this point, I was still expecting a text message from Chris's parents telling me when they would get to town.
During half time of the match, I stood outside talking to one of the girls who works at the pub. She had come up with her own kids to enjoy a little Sunday afternoon sunshine. This girl is rather striking and tends to receive a lot of attention from the male patrons of the pub. As pretty as she is, what I particularly like about her is how she handles being a mother. Her kids are one and seven, and the daughter was running around helping to serve drinks to other customers, reminding me of last month when SC was doing the same thing. The one year old was just being cute and cuddly, keeping his mother occupied as he played with anything within his reach.
While I haven't met Anna's parents, I get the feeling that she, too, grew up in a loving family environment. It is not just that she is a nice person, but it is how she is a nice mother.
One of my other friends who also works at the pub, another of my favorites, equally strikes me as coming from a very loving family background. She was overjoyed to meet my parents during their recent visit, and went out of her way to introduce me to her father when he visited Frankfurt. Her father doesn't speak any English, but as we conversed in Spanish I realized why Maria is how she is: a really really nice person who clearly grew up in a loving environment. And, the way she dotes on kids tells me that she will continue in the same fashion should she become a mother.
The positive vibes I was getting on Sunday (combined with multiple glasses of water) helped me feel much better than I had earlier in the day, but I was still rather relieved when Mr. McKee phoned to tell me that they would NOT be able to come across town Sunday evening after all. Instead, we made plans to meet up on Monday afternoon.
I was looking forward to seeing Chris's parents. It may sound a little strange, but it is a nice feeling to show people that you have known for a long time a different side of yourself. In my case, I have known Chris's mom and dad since 1988, not long after I first met Chris. I can remember sacking Mrs. McKee's groceries (we both worked at a grocery store. Albertston's - it's your store), just like Chris remembers checking the groceries for my mother. Over the years, we saw each other regularly, especially since I was living onsite at Goliad, usually there every time the McKees came to visit.
Probably the last time I saw them was about 4 or 5 five years ago during my stateside Christmas visit. It was a rather brief few minutes at Goliad, during which we did the quick "how are things going in Germany?" exchange, where one usually gives just a simple "things are great" response. Thus, to have the opportunity to actually show them my neighborhood personally would have a bit more relevance.
When I first received the email from Mr McKee, I did not recognize the name, pretty much because I do not recall ever having heard the first names of either of Chris's parents. It wouldn't have mattered much anyway, since I have always addressed them as Mr. and Mrs, for the reasons I gave at the beginning of this piece. When I responded to the email, I gave my mobile number along with my invitation that they head to my side of town from their hotel on Monday afternoon.
Mr. McKee phoned me around 16h Monday afternoon with the news that they were about 10 minutes away from me, so I quickly dried myself off (I had been in the shower), dressed and walked down to Bornheim Mitte to find them at the taxi stand. They had taken my instructions literally and were just standing on the street.
Another couple was with the McKees and after quick hugs with Mr. and Mrs McKee, I was introduced to them. They gave me their first names, which I expected, but unfortunately I almost immediately forgot both names. I hoped that during the course of the evening, Mr. and Mrs McKee would use their friends names so that I could quietly refresh my memory. This created a little bit of confusion for me, since I wasn't all together sure that I knew Mrs. McKee's first name, either.
In the end, it worked out just fine.
We spent a few minutes walking around the market plaza in Bornheim. I showed everyone where the younger McKees had resided during July, and pointed out a few landmarks. Fortunately, the weather was nice, but that particular evening there were not SO many people out and about for the Kerb fesitval. Said festival runs from Friday to Wednesday, with Friday and Saturday being particularly crowded days, followed closely by Sunday. Monday and Tuesday are more quiet, and then Wednesday erupts into a complete blow out. Being Monday, we had a better opportunity to visit and relax.
Both couples had been on a tour over the past couple of weeks and would be returning to the states the following morning. Understandably, they were a bit travel weary. Thus, I elected to have us meander down Berger Strasse, giving them a feel for the neighborhood. We got to my corner, where I showed them my apartment building, then we took a seat outside the pub and ordered a few drinks.
I had to chuckle to myself a little bit because everyone perused the menu to try and decide what to have. Mr. McKee jumped right into a Hefeweizen, his wife opted for prosecco. Mr. McKee's friend took my suggestion of a Kilkenny, and finally, his wife, who had asked me about a light beer, took a Helles. Again, I was momentarily confused, since American light beer (like Bud Light, Miller Lite, etc) is not available here. I did not want to insult someone I had just met by berating them on their beverage choice, but I quickly realized that she simply wanted a lighter German beer.
We had a nice visit chatting about their recent cruise through Austria, and I was able to give a little background on what I was doing in Germany. The two couples had known each a long time and I was reminded of friends who would travel with my parents from time to time. I am aware that not everyone travels the same way. Some people prefer a more structured (safe) environment, while others tend to go for the balls out adventure. These folks were perhaps a bit more conservative than my parents, but it is all relative at the end of the day. I am always impressed when someone at least shows the willingness. Clearly they had all had a good time over the past two weeks.
From conversations with Chris, I already knew which topics with his parents were best avoided, and when said topics came up anyway, I gently gave my perspective and quickly moved us along to safer territory. I fully respect that everyone has their opinions and despite the respect we have for one another, we will never always agree on everything, from our views of the world to something has simple as our favorite foods.
Mr. McKee and I had a second beer at the pub, which was really no surprise. Then, Mr. McKee correctly assumed that I probably was needing a cigarette break, so I slipped around the corner for a bit of a puff, leaving them to chat a bit with Anna, who was working that evening.
Upon my return to the table, someone said, "Bryan, she is cute."
"Indeed she is," I responded, "and she is also a really loving mother."
We paid up and walked a few steps to one of my favorite little German pubs, where we found a table outside. I explained the menu to everyone, we got the orders placed, and we continued enjoying our little evening in Bornheim.
I was not allowed to pay anything, which touched me. My parents do the same thing and enjoy treating my friends for the odd meal when they visit. But, the McKees and their friends were so thankful that I had taken time to show them a few things around the neighborhood. I struggled to express that I was equally thankful and glad to have seen the McKee seniors and to have met their friends.
For a last little moment, I trooped everyone over to a group of my friends who had already gathered for Kiosk Abend. Those guys had already seen the younger McKees the previous month, and I cracked up as the introductions (by first name and last name) were made.
"Hello Mr and Mrs McKee, hello Mr. and Mrs xxxx" said Teddy, Mono and Danny. Seems it's not just Chris, Pablo, and myself that do this....
A taxi was driving by, so I hailed it, and informed the driver to take my guests back to their hotel at the airport. We hugged goodbye, and I wished everyone safe travels, then tucked in to continue my Kiosk Abend. A very nice evening all around.
When Bernemer Mittwoch came around, I started cautiously. The evening tends to be long, and I wanted to try and pace myself. The problem has always been that the party happens right outside my front door. Thus, even if I wasn't out on the street, a few thousand people WERE. So, sleeping is not really an option.
I finished my work day around 6h15, and headed out to meet and greet. I ran into an old friend of mine who no longer lives in the neighborhood. We still see each other with regularity, but certainly not like we did when he lived around the corner. As it were, his mother was visiting from London, and it was nice to catch up with her. I first met Carol about 7 or 8 years ago when Damon first moved to Frankfurt. We had an interesting evening one night in the pub, where she expressed her appreciation that she was able to meet friends of her son in Germany. I was reminded of my own mother, since both of them live further away from one of their kids, but that never stops them from caring and wanting the best for their children. Once again, another sign of parenting at its best. Yeah, Carol is wacky and much more outgoing than my own mom, but her love for her son and his friends is felt just as strongly as the love my mother has for my sister and me.
On this specific evening, I mentioned that I had just had dinner with the folks of a friend of mine, and reminded her of our conversation from years ago. I appreciate it when parents want to be parents, and care about their kids and who their kids know.
A couple of hours later, there were many more people on the street and things were getting really crowded. I met up with Bettina and her daughter Elena. Elena was one of the mothers whose 2 kids were watching the parade the previous Saturday. Elena's partner is an old friend of mine that I met early on in my Frankfurt experience and we have remained friends through the years. He was one of the guys that I used to close bars with back in the early days. Now, he and Elena have two really nice little kids, and I see them quite regularly, fortunately because Elena's mother lives down the street from me. I am quite fortunate to know these people, as they are very genuine and pleasant. One of the most striking things is that Bettina, who is maybe 8 years older than me, is clearly a wonderful caring mother, and in turn, a particularly loving grandmother. The kids are both quite charming (though the 2 year old is obviously more communicative) and it is so apparent that they are being raised in such a nurturing, loving environment.
A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with Elena and her mother about parenting and about how cool I thought they were, particularly in their style with their kids. Seeing this in multiple generations just makes it all the more special. Sure, my sister is a very loving mother, just like her own mother, but it is still refreshing for me to experience this outside of my own family. Indeed, knowing people like this helps me remember that there is still a lot of good in the world, regardless of the age or the nationality of the people.
We have endured far too many really shitty things in the world in recent days, weeks, and months. The madness that took place in Virginia last week, or the awful attacks in Spain in the past 24 hours, none of it makes any sense.
I purposely try to think of the loving examples I get to experience, particularly to remind myself that I am so fortunate to be around people who are trying to help make the world a better place, despite the dark times.
I will keep these thoughts with me as we start the weekend. What else can I do?
see you out there
bryan
"OK, Mr. Lipsett," I responded, realizing that I would never be able to make the cross-over to the use of first names with people in my parents generation, and certainly not with the husband of my piano teacher.
That conversation took place about 30 years ago, when I was back in town from college for the weekend and was greeting the couple at church.
Sure, I have related this story several times over the years, and I always found it fascinating and somewhat humbling that I have still never been able to make this switch. I simply address people that I met during my childhood and adolescence as Mr. and Mrs.; it makes no difference how old we happen to be now. The gender gap still remains, even if I met these people 30 or 40 years ago.
My parents have made a few comments about this over the years. During my 20s and early 30s when we would be out and about together, I would frequently hear my father introduce himself to a friend of mine (in my age group) as Sam, which came as no real surprise. In fact, any time that I would meet a parent of a friend of mine that I did not ever know during my school years, I would also start in with them on a first name basis.
I remember one time that my folks and I were debating this topic at the Old Monk, and I turned to my buddy Pablo and said, "Hey Pablo, my dad has a question for you."
"Sure, Mr. Barlow, what would you like to know?" my friend asked.
10 minutes when Chris arrived to the pub, he greeted my parents with a big "Hello Mr and Mrs Barlow," which helped me prove my point.
"See, mom, it is not just me that does this," I explained, feeling really grateful that I was not the only guy who still seemingly acts like a little kid around adults. The actual age one is has less to do with it; for me, it's really more about the situation and the feeling.
True, I do recognize that it may sound rather formal when addressing someone as Mr or Mrs. I was recently in a meeting with a woman who is a few years older than me, and she pointed out that she expected to use the formal German communication, which puts us in the Herr Barlow or Frau So and So mode. Of course, this is pretty standard in Germany. It is normal that colleagues at work, regardless of their age, address one another formally.
I suspect it is partially for that reason that I still address a German friend's parents as Herr and Frau Losse. That being said, the feeling that I have always had with them is that they are both very nurturing and caring parents, which basically indicates to me that, had I met them 30 some odd years ago with the Herr and Frau bit, I would never be able to change to a first name basis with them, even if they asked me to. In fact, I think one time Nadja's mom did ask me to call by her first name, and I, of course, responded with, "OK, Frau Losse."
Maybe it is a bit of nostalgia, or perhaps it is just a bit of willful innocence on my part. But, despite not being a parent, I greatly respect the art of parenting and am particularly touched when I see how parents interact with not only their offspring but also the friends of their offspring. There is quite a bit of comfort I get from observing these relationships, especially when I can immediately see how much love exists.
We all have probably had our "roll the eyes" moments when our parents have done something to embarrass us, and maybe sometimes our opinions are not the same as our parents, but it is still family. Besides, I certainly am aware that I have embarrassed my parents on frequent occasions, though I hope that those times are becoming less frequent. Regardless, the love and the nurturing remains. This is really key for me and I have a lot of experiences recently which continue to keep me feeling warm and fuzzy.
As I have written in the past few weeks, the summer has been pretty good, almost exceptional. One of the events that helps bring the summer to a close is our local festival: Bernemer Kerb. This year marks the 410th (yep, you read that correctly) year of the celebration. I may have only participated in the past 10-11 years, but I got here as quickly as I could.
OK, the celebration involves rather large amounts of alcohol, but it is really a festive atmosphere, especially when the weather is nice and everyone comes out to enjoy the scene. Last Saturday, immediately after finishing my last post, I went to the gym, got in a little workout, then found myself wandering over to the pub to catch the second half of a football match. As much as I enjoyed having a few beers on an early Saturday afternoon, I realized that the early start would make things a little complicated later on the evening; the parade itself wasn't going to start for another few hours.
Na ja, it is afternoons like these when one simply throws caution to the wind (and the rain, as it were). By parade time, I was still holding up, but knew I would not be the last guy standing. Fortunately at that moment, I was still able to stand, and spent a few minutes catching up with some friends as we watched the floats pass by. Maybe float is not quite the right word, but at least we watched the wagons roll by, filled with revelers (many of which clearly started their beer consumption before I had) throwing various gifts to the crowd: candy, little trinkets, etc.
I was standing with 3 couples who all had young children, ranging in age from 6 months to 6 years.
Not only do I know these kids, but I also know their parents, as they have been around since my arrival in Frankfurt 11 years ago. Back then, we spent a lot of time closing the bars and staying out too late. As fun as that was at the time, I quite like the way things are now, where these new parents are more interested in nurturing their little ones. This may be seem like a very normal thing, but over the years I have sadly realized that it is not something to be taken for granted, and the facts are: too often what I always assumed to be a normal relationship with parents and their kids, a relationship of love, is not necessarily the case.
At any rate, watching the kids laugh and clap their hands (OK the 6 month old was taking a nap) as they tried to catch the candy being tossed to them was quite endearing. They were in their own little worlds, but a world where they knew their parents were right there with them, loving them.
I happen to have met the parents of all three couples, and although I don't know all of them that well, I always had the feeling that those parents are similar to my own; loving, caring parents. To see their children (my friends) behave in similar fashion does not really surprise me, but it still impresses me.
Feeling comfortably numb (part beer, part nice family experience), I continued celebrating the Saturday evening, chatting with everyone who came out to the festival. It is always a nice chance to see old friends while making new friends at the same time. Sobriety is optional, and what is always funny is that everyone seems to double their normal intake without getting completely waxed.
That being said, my shutters came down around 10pm, which, looking back, wasn't THAT bad of a run, since I had started about 2pm.
Of course, Sunday morning I woke up feeling like I would need to stay in bed for most of the day. Unfortunately, I had made some plans to meet up with a colleague during the early afternoon, and I also had tentative plans for dinner. It took a lot of effort on my part, but I found myself back in the pub Sunday lunch time to watch a match with a friend and his wife. I opted for water instead of beer, which created a lot of confusion for the staff of the pub; this was highly out of character.
However, I noticed that most of the staff were also looking a little tired, so they appreciated my condition. There was a certain amount of hangover that was contributing to how I felt, but I was also very keen to avoid a repeat of the previous day, where by 17h30 I was already 6 beers in. At this point, I was still expecting a text message from Chris's parents telling me when they would get to town.
During half time of the match, I stood outside talking to one of the girls who works at the pub. She had come up with her own kids to enjoy a little Sunday afternoon sunshine. This girl is rather striking and tends to receive a lot of attention from the male patrons of the pub. As pretty as she is, what I particularly like about her is how she handles being a mother. Her kids are one and seven, and the daughter was running around helping to serve drinks to other customers, reminding me of last month when SC was doing the same thing. The one year old was just being cute and cuddly, keeping his mother occupied as he played with anything within his reach.
While I haven't met Anna's parents, I get the feeling that she, too, grew up in a loving family environment. It is not just that she is a nice person, but it is how she is a nice mother.
One of my other friends who also works at the pub, another of my favorites, equally strikes me as coming from a very loving family background. She was overjoyed to meet my parents during their recent visit, and went out of her way to introduce me to her father when he visited Frankfurt. Her father doesn't speak any English, but as we conversed in Spanish I realized why Maria is how she is: a really really nice person who clearly grew up in a loving environment. And, the way she dotes on kids tells me that she will continue in the same fashion should she become a mother.
The positive vibes I was getting on Sunday (combined with multiple glasses of water) helped me feel much better than I had earlier in the day, but I was still rather relieved when Mr. McKee phoned to tell me that they would NOT be able to come across town Sunday evening after all. Instead, we made plans to meet up on Monday afternoon.
I was looking forward to seeing Chris's parents. It may sound a little strange, but it is a nice feeling to show people that you have known for a long time a different side of yourself. In my case, I have known Chris's mom and dad since 1988, not long after I first met Chris. I can remember sacking Mrs. McKee's groceries (we both worked at a grocery store. Albertston's - it's your store), just like Chris remembers checking the groceries for my mother. Over the years, we saw each other regularly, especially since I was living onsite at Goliad, usually there every time the McKees came to visit.
Probably the last time I saw them was about 4 or 5 five years ago during my stateside Christmas visit. It was a rather brief few minutes at Goliad, during which we did the quick "how are things going in Germany?" exchange, where one usually gives just a simple "things are great" response. Thus, to have the opportunity to actually show them my neighborhood personally would have a bit more relevance.
When I first received the email from Mr McKee, I did not recognize the name, pretty much because I do not recall ever having heard the first names of either of Chris's parents. It wouldn't have mattered much anyway, since I have always addressed them as Mr. and Mrs, for the reasons I gave at the beginning of this piece. When I responded to the email, I gave my mobile number along with my invitation that they head to my side of town from their hotel on Monday afternoon.
Mr. McKee phoned me around 16h Monday afternoon with the news that they were about 10 minutes away from me, so I quickly dried myself off (I had been in the shower), dressed and walked down to Bornheim Mitte to find them at the taxi stand. They had taken my instructions literally and were just standing on the street.
Another couple was with the McKees and after quick hugs with Mr. and Mrs McKee, I was introduced to them. They gave me their first names, which I expected, but unfortunately I almost immediately forgot both names. I hoped that during the course of the evening, Mr. and Mrs McKee would use their friends names so that I could quietly refresh my memory. This created a little bit of confusion for me, since I wasn't all together sure that I knew Mrs. McKee's first name, either.
In the end, it worked out just fine.
We spent a few minutes walking around the market plaza in Bornheim. I showed everyone where the younger McKees had resided during July, and pointed out a few landmarks. Fortunately, the weather was nice, but that particular evening there were not SO many people out and about for the Kerb fesitval. Said festival runs from Friday to Wednesday, with Friday and Saturday being particularly crowded days, followed closely by Sunday. Monday and Tuesday are more quiet, and then Wednesday erupts into a complete blow out. Being Monday, we had a better opportunity to visit and relax.
Both couples had been on a tour over the past couple of weeks and would be returning to the states the following morning. Understandably, they were a bit travel weary. Thus, I elected to have us meander down Berger Strasse, giving them a feel for the neighborhood. We got to my corner, where I showed them my apartment building, then we took a seat outside the pub and ordered a few drinks.
I had to chuckle to myself a little bit because everyone perused the menu to try and decide what to have. Mr. McKee jumped right into a Hefeweizen, his wife opted for prosecco. Mr. McKee's friend took my suggestion of a Kilkenny, and finally, his wife, who had asked me about a light beer, took a Helles. Again, I was momentarily confused, since American light beer (like Bud Light, Miller Lite, etc) is not available here. I did not want to insult someone I had just met by berating them on their beverage choice, but I quickly realized that she simply wanted a lighter German beer.
We had a nice visit chatting about their recent cruise through Austria, and I was able to give a little background on what I was doing in Germany. The two couples had known each a long time and I was reminded of friends who would travel with my parents from time to time. I am aware that not everyone travels the same way. Some people prefer a more structured (safe) environment, while others tend to go for the balls out adventure. These folks were perhaps a bit more conservative than my parents, but it is all relative at the end of the day. I am always impressed when someone at least shows the willingness. Clearly they had all had a good time over the past two weeks.
From conversations with Chris, I already knew which topics with his parents were best avoided, and when said topics came up anyway, I gently gave my perspective and quickly moved us along to safer territory. I fully respect that everyone has their opinions and despite the respect we have for one another, we will never always agree on everything, from our views of the world to something has simple as our favorite foods.
Mr. McKee and I had a second beer at the pub, which was really no surprise. Then, Mr. McKee correctly assumed that I probably was needing a cigarette break, so I slipped around the corner for a bit of a puff, leaving them to chat a bit with Anna, who was working that evening.
Upon my return to the table, someone said, "Bryan, she is cute."
"Indeed she is," I responded, "and she is also a really loving mother."
We paid up and walked a few steps to one of my favorite little German pubs, where we found a table outside. I explained the menu to everyone, we got the orders placed, and we continued enjoying our little evening in Bornheim.
I was not allowed to pay anything, which touched me. My parents do the same thing and enjoy treating my friends for the odd meal when they visit. But, the McKees and their friends were so thankful that I had taken time to show them a few things around the neighborhood. I struggled to express that I was equally thankful and glad to have seen the McKee seniors and to have met their friends.
For a last little moment, I trooped everyone over to a group of my friends who had already gathered for Kiosk Abend. Those guys had already seen the younger McKees the previous month, and I cracked up as the introductions (by first name and last name) were made.
"Hello Mr and Mrs McKee, hello Mr. and Mrs xxxx" said Teddy, Mono and Danny. Seems it's not just Chris, Pablo, and myself that do this....
A taxi was driving by, so I hailed it, and informed the driver to take my guests back to their hotel at the airport. We hugged goodbye, and I wished everyone safe travels, then tucked in to continue my Kiosk Abend. A very nice evening all around.
When Bernemer Mittwoch came around, I started cautiously. The evening tends to be long, and I wanted to try and pace myself. The problem has always been that the party happens right outside my front door. Thus, even if I wasn't out on the street, a few thousand people WERE. So, sleeping is not really an option.
I finished my work day around 6h15, and headed out to meet and greet. I ran into an old friend of mine who no longer lives in the neighborhood. We still see each other with regularity, but certainly not like we did when he lived around the corner. As it were, his mother was visiting from London, and it was nice to catch up with her. I first met Carol about 7 or 8 years ago when Damon first moved to Frankfurt. We had an interesting evening one night in the pub, where she expressed her appreciation that she was able to meet friends of her son in Germany. I was reminded of my own mother, since both of them live further away from one of their kids, but that never stops them from caring and wanting the best for their children. Once again, another sign of parenting at its best. Yeah, Carol is wacky and much more outgoing than my own mom, but her love for her son and his friends is felt just as strongly as the love my mother has for my sister and me.
On this specific evening, I mentioned that I had just had dinner with the folks of a friend of mine, and reminded her of our conversation from years ago. I appreciate it when parents want to be parents, and care about their kids and who their kids know.
A couple of hours later, there were many more people on the street and things were getting really crowded. I met up with Bettina and her daughter Elena. Elena was one of the mothers whose 2 kids were watching the parade the previous Saturday. Elena's partner is an old friend of mine that I met early on in my Frankfurt experience and we have remained friends through the years. He was one of the guys that I used to close bars with back in the early days. Now, he and Elena have two really nice little kids, and I see them quite regularly, fortunately because Elena's mother lives down the street from me. I am quite fortunate to know these people, as they are very genuine and pleasant. One of the most striking things is that Bettina, who is maybe 8 years older than me, is clearly a wonderful caring mother, and in turn, a particularly loving grandmother. The kids are both quite charming (though the 2 year old is obviously more communicative) and it is so apparent that they are being raised in such a nurturing, loving environment.
A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with Elena and her mother about parenting and about how cool I thought they were, particularly in their style with their kids. Seeing this in multiple generations just makes it all the more special. Sure, my sister is a very loving mother, just like her own mother, but it is still refreshing for me to experience this outside of my own family. Indeed, knowing people like this helps me remember that there is still a lot of good in the world, regardless of the age or the nationality of the people.
We have endured far too many really shitty things in the world in recent days, weeks, and months. The madness that took place in Virginia last week, or the awful attacks in Spain in the past 24 hours, none of it makes any sense.
I purposely try to think of the loving examples I get to experience, particularly to remind myself that I am so fortunate to be around people who are trying to help make the world a better place, despite the dark times.
I will keep these thoughts with me as we start the weekend. What else can I do?
see you out there
bryan
Saturday, August 12, 2017
Just Another Quiet Start to the Weekend
I have had to keep looking at the calendar the past couple of days, just to remind myself what month we are in. The picture hanging on the wall in my hallway of the baby goat wearing a sweater states clearly that we are in the month of August (calendar courtesy of my mother, who appreciates giving calendars at Christmas, whether they be ones with scenes of waterfalls, distant mountains, or rather small farm animals), but the past 48 hours have been nothing but cold and rainy.
As much as I look forward to autumn, I am actually caught a little by surprise. The summer has not been unbearably hot, and I have sort of enjoyed hanging around outside wearing shorts and enjoying the long evenings, despite my preference for cooler temperatures. The local festival in my neighborhood is just starting up, people are starting to get excited about the start of the football season (both Bundesliga and Premiership), and hell, a lot of kids are still on their summer holidays, so why is it suddenly feeling like the middle of November? I am not quite ready for it; I want a few more weeks of shirt sleeve weather.
Last weekend, when it was still kind of balmy, I spent an afternoon outside in the sunshine visiting with various friends, many of which kept referring to the recent visit of the folks from the big house on Goliad. "Wow, your friend's daughter was exceptionally good with Aria," remarked Aria's mother and grandmother as we stood at the Tonne outside the pub. "Indeed she was," I responded, watching Aria splash in the little fountain a few steps away from our position. "And, she also liked playing in that water, too."
The past week started like any other; I was already looking forward to the upcoming weekend before I had really even logged into Monday morning's emails. Things are a little quiet at work right now, due to the vacation period, so I have been taking advantage of the slowdown and spending a few more minutes each day at the piano. My grandmother's birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and while I do not think I can surpass the gift I gave her last year to celebrate her 100th birthday, it did occur to me that perhaps sending her a few mp3s of some pieces I have learned might be fitting.
So, I have been doing a bit of practicing, and even managed to get a few bits recorded. To celebrate my progress, I elected to arrange a gastronomic treat and make some beef nachos for myself. Over the past months I have really cut down on meats, preferring to load up on salad as much as possible. With the exception of the time I spent with the "I want Schnitzel" gang during July, I have held pretty true to my diet, with relatively decent results. So, a one time splurge with some ground beef and queso? Why not?
As I whisked through the supermarket Thursday, I picked up the needed ingredients. I had actually been awakened Wednesday night when the idea came up in my dreams, and I actually got out of bed and made a special grocery list. Everything was going fine in the grocery store aisle, until I realized that they were out of the queso that I normally use. (Yes, I have made myself nachos here before, but it has been a while.) Well, I am going to write this off as very bad spontaneous judgement, but I decided that I could make do with a sort of artificial cheese sauce that I found on the "American" shelf in the grocery store. This shelf is where they stock things like: one flavor of Pop-Tarts, microwave popcorn, "hotter than hell" barbecue sauce, and various other overly processed foods that people correctly associate with the American diet.
I examined the little plastic bottle of cheese sauce in hopes I could understand what the contents actually were, then threw the bottle in my basket and headed for the checkout. Once I got home, I did a quick online search to try and compare the product that I purchased with what I had wanted to purchase. You see, I had my heart set on these nachos, and was pretty sure that I was still going to be able to make it work. My logic was based on the assumption that things like Velveeta (which doesn't even exist in Europe), my normal queso sauce (currently out of stock at the store), and the item I had just purchased were all pretty similar: all of them look gross, feel gross (to the point of disgusting), and it goes without saying that they easily are designed to survive any nuclear testing. My glimmer of hope had mostly to do with my experience with two of three products. One does not grow up in Texas without eating (and loving) queso made from Velveeta, and my experience with my normal queso sauce has always been adequate. In short, the stuff looks like shit and is really bad for you, but you eat it anyway. And like it.
Unfortunately, door number three turned out to be a real disaster.
Perhaps I should have already sensed there would be problems when I read on the label that it was OK to put the plastic bottle in the microwave to heat up the cheese sauce. I sort of thought, "wouldn't that make it more toxic?" even though I proceeded to try anyway, but only for about 20 seconds. Of course, 20 seconds did sod all, so I tried squeezing a portion onto a safe dish, which, after about 90 seconds at 600W resulted in something that looked just like what I did for my 4th grade science project at school.
Even then, I tasted a bit just to see.
Bad idea.
The beef was already browned and simmering on the stove top, and I stood there trying to figure out what to do, thinking perhaps rereading the label on the bottle would help. When I realized that the "Haltbar bis" date had expired right before my birthday a few months previously, I immediate chucked the whole thing into the bin.
So, that is how I came to have tostada chips covered in ground beef topped with jalapeños for dinner Thursday evening.
Yesterday, I woke up feeling very glad that I would not be spending the next three weeks on the Klo, and made the decision that a nice green salad would be perfect for my Friday evening dinner.
Friday brought not only the start of the Kerb, the local festival in my neighborhood, but also the opening of the English football league, with Arsenal playing at home to start the season.
Well, it rained pretty much the whole day, and while I was a bit excited about the start of the festival and the football, I found myself getting really cozy on the couch. Instead of heading out for a handful of beers in the wet weather before the 20h45 televised kickoff, I found myself under a blanket, reading a book on the sofa. I got my stream hooked up for match-time and felt very responsible (and sober) as the game started. 2 minutes into the game when Arsenal scored their first, I was pretty thrilled, as was Chris, who sent a text from the states.
2 Minutes later we were texting again, as Leicester got an easy equalizer. We continued to text during the rest of the first half as the game (exciting as it was) continued. Both teams went into the break at 2-2, and I tried to rally myself for a more positive second half. It was either that or an early night reading my book. In the end, Arsenal got a positive result, and I was glad that I stayed up long enough to help see them through.
So, I sit here Saturday morning, enjoying the coolness and gentle rain outside. It's only just past 9am, but I have been up a couple of hours already; this happens when I get a decent sleep and part of me thinks that maybe a few more evenings skipping pints would be a good idea from time to time.
Quatsch. It's the Kerb! It is Saturday! I have got things to do, people to see, and maybe, just maybe, another attempt to satisfy my craving for nachos.
See you out there.
bryan
As much as I look forward to autumn, I am actually caught a little by surprise. The summer has not been unbearably hot, and I have sort of enjoyed hanging around outside wearing shorts and enjoying the long evenings, despite my preference for cooler temperatures. The local festival in my neighborhood is just starting up, people are starting to get excited about the start of the football season (both Bundesliga and Premiership), and hell, a lot of kids are still on their summer holidays, so why is it suddenly feeling like the middle of November? I am not quite ready for it; I want a few more weeks of shirt sleeve weather.
Last weekend, when it was still kind of balmy, I spent an afternoon outside in the sunshine visiting with various friends, many of which kept referring to the recent visit of the folks from the big house on Goliad. "Wow, your friend's daughter was exceptionally good with Aria," remarked Aria's mother and grandmother as we stood at the Tonne outside the pub. "Indeed she was," I responded, watching Aria splash in the little fountain a few steps away from our position. "And, she also liked playing in that water, too."
The past week started like any other; I was already looking forward to the upcoming weekend before I had really even logged into Monday morning's emails. Things are a little quiet at work right now, due to the vacation period, so I have been taking advantage of the slowdown and spending a few more minutes each day at the piano. My grandmother's birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and while I do not think I can surpass the gift I gave her last year to celebrate her 100th birthday, it did occur to me that perhaps sending her a few mp3s of some pieces I have learned might be fitting.
So, I have been doing a bit of practicing, and even managed to get a few bits recorded. To celebrate my progress, I elected to arrange a gastronomic treat and make some beef nachos for myself. Over the past months I have really cut down on meats, preferring to load up on salad as much as possible. With the exception of the time I spent with the "I want Schnitzel" gang during July, I have held pretty true to my diet, with relatively decent results. So, a one time splurge with some ground beef and queso? Why not?
As I whisked through the supermarket Thursday, I picked up the needed ingredients. I had actually been awakened Wednesday night when the idea came up in my dreams, and I actually got out of bed and made a special grocery list. Everything was going fine in the grocery store aisle, until I realized that they were out of the queso that I normally use. (Yes, I have made myself nachos here before, but it has been a while.) Well, I am going to write this off as very bad spontaneous judgement, but I decided that I could make do with a sort of artificial cheese sauce that I found on the "American" shelf in the grocery store. This shelf is where they stock things like: one flavor of Pop-Tarts, microwave popcorn, "hotter than hell" barbecue sauce, and various other overly processed foods that people correctly associate with the American diet.
I examined the little plastic bottle of cheese sauce in hopes I could understand what the contents actually were, then threw the bottle in my basket and headed for the checkout. Once I got home, I did a quick online search to try and compare the product that I purchased with what I had wanted to purchase. You see, I had my heart set on these nachos, and was pretty sure that I was still going to be able to make it work. My logic was based on the assumption that things like Velveeta (which doesn't even exist in Europe), my normal queso sauce (currently out of stock at the store), and the item I had just purchased were all pretty similar: all of them look gross, feel gross (to the point of disgusting), and it goes without saying that they easily are designed to survive any nuclear testing. My glimmer of hope had mostly to do with my experience with two of three products. One does not grow up in Texas without eating (and loving) queso made from Velveeta, and my experience with my normal queso sauce has always been adequate. In short, the stuff looks like shit and is really bad for you, but you eat it anyway. And like it.
Unfortunately, door number three turned out to be a real disaster.
Perhaps I should have already sensed there would be problems when I read on the label that it was OK to put the plastic bottle in the microwave to heat up the cheese sauce. I sort of thought, "wouldn't that make it more toxic?" even though I proceeded to try anyway, but only for about 20 seconds. Of course, 20 seconds did sod all, so I tried squeezing a portion onto a safe dish, which, after about 90 seconds at 600W resulted in something that looked just like what I did for my 4th grade science project at school.
Even then, I tasted a bit just to see.
Bad idea.
The beef was already browned and simmering on the stove top, and I stood there trying to figure out what to do, thinking perhaps rereading the label on the bottle would help. When I realized that the "Haltbar bis" date had expired right before my birthday a few months previously, I immediate chucked the whole thing into the bin.
So, that is how I came to have tostada chips covered in ground beef topped with jalapeños for dinner Thursday evening.
Yesterday, I woke up feeling very glad that I would not be spending the next three weeks on the Klo, and made the decision that a nice green salad would be perfect for my Friday evening dinner.
Friday brought not only the start of the Kerb, the local festival in my neighborhood, but also the opening of the English football league, with Arsenal playing at home to start the season.
Well, it rained pretty much the whole day, and while I was a bit excited about the start of the festival and the football, I found myself getting really cozy on the couch. Instead of heading out for a handful of beers in the wet weather before the 20h45 televised kickoff, I found myself under a blanket, reading a book on the sofa. I got my stream hooked up for match-time and felt very responsible (and sober) as the game started. 2 minutes into the game when Arsenal scored their first, I was pretty thrilled, as was Chris, who sent a text from the states.
2 Minutes later we were texting again, as Leicester got an easy equalizer. We continued to text during the rest of the first half as the game (exciting as it was) continued. Both teams went into the break at 2-2, and I tried to rally myself for a more positive second half. It was either that or an early night reading my book. In the end, Arsenal got a positive result, and I was glad that I stayed up long enough to help see them through.
So, I sit here Saturday morning, enjoying the coolness and gentle rain outside. It's only just past 9am, but I have been up a couple of hours already; this happens when I get a decent sleep and part of me thinks that maybe a few more evenings skipping pints would be a good idea from time to time.
Quatsch. It's the Kerb! It is Saturday! I have got things to do, people to see, and maybe, just maybe, another attempt to satisfy my craving for nachos.
See you out there.
bryan
Thursday, August 03, 2017
Looking to the Left
"I want chicken nuggets," said the youngest daughter of my friend Chris as we walked down the street from their flat.
The scene was this: just a few hours earlier, Chris and his family had arrived on an international flight to Frankfurt, coming to live in my neighborhood for the month of July. Sure, it was lunchtime, and they were pretty tired after a long flight, during which no one really slept. So, we ventured out on to the plaza to find a little something to eat.
The problem was, I have never looked for chicken nuggets in Bornheim. It's not that I don't like chicken nuggets, it's just that I don't really think of those when I go out to eat. I quickly realized that I would need to get up to speed on what a typical 7 year old likes to eat, and likely what an 11 year old enjoys, also. My experience with kids of this age is primarily through my nephew, who has always tended to be a bit picky.
Fortunately, Chris was there and helped put things in perspective, which is basically just saying that anything and everything would be OK. We found a little snack bar around the corner from their flat which did offer nuggets and sat outside in the sunshine for a little bit before I walked back home to continue my work day.
The plan was simple: the family of 5 would live in Germany for one month, experiencing things in a way that no 3 to 4 day visit ever really can offer. It was more about hanging out in another type of environment as opposed to simply playing tourist. Sure, a few day trips would be a part of the month, with maybe a couple of overnight visits to some places near Frankfurt. Because kids were involved, the statement "all plans subject to change" was used rather often. But really, it was all about staying relaxed and not pushing things to the limit. After all, this was no whirlwind sightseeing European vacation.
My friends here in Bornheim were eagerly anticipating the arrival of my Dallas friends, particularly the kids who had not ever visited before. A few folks were a bit surprised that my friends would be staying one month, since that is a little bit unusual. Furthermore, some folks couldn't quite understand the attraction of Frankfurt, despite the fact that it happens to be home. Chris responded to these questions pretty directly. He explained that during their brief visit last summer, they enjoyed meeting all of my friends and thoroughly enjoyed the neighborhood and its character. Why wouldn't someone want to come and stay in Frankfurt for a month?
As usual, the gathering point was frequently my local pub, and over the course of the next several days as everyone got settled (and over their jet lag), we would meet up for a beer (or a sprite, depending on the age of the drinker) and find some place to grab a bite to eat. The pub fare tended to go down well with the kids and we could always take advantage of the nice weather to sit outside, be a little active (loud) and enjoying chatting with my friends from the neighborhood.
In summer, everyone wants to be outside because the weather is rather pleasant (at least, in comparison to the summer heat of Dallas). Even though I prefer the autumn and winter seasons, I still enjoy being able to stay out a little later (since it stays light longer) in the evenings, despite the fact that this tends to increase the beer intake to some degree. The fact that I have been able to enjoy the past month with close friends from my hometown just made things all that much better. We had time to get properly caught up on things. During my brief visits back to the states, we usually are able to hang out once or twice but it is always frantic and the time is too short.
We did not have that problem during this visit. We wisely took the four weeks and just lived.
I was able to help offer guidance with the things like visits to the dry cleaners, which trains were best for visiting places like Köln or Heidelberg, the preferred laundry detergent to buy and where to buy it. As a small unplanned surprise, I arranged for my dentist to help with a broken tooth. (with kids, all plans are subject to change).
A friend of mine who has lived in Frankfurt the last 8 years decided he needed to leave Germany, so we had one or two evenings saying our farewells to him. (a Ninja throwing star? C'mon, really?) Meanwhile, other friends came and went as they returned from their vacations and pretty much Chris and co. were able to experience a typical summer in my neighborhood. For me, it was a little atypical, for all the right reasons.
For example, I would join everyone for dinner several times a week. Sometimes I had to help translate the menu and coordinate the ordering, which wasn't too stressful once I figured out that usually 3 people would be talking about 3 different things at once. Spending time with younger people is not really something I get to do all that much, and at the beginning I was a little unsure of myself. Sure, I have known this family for a really long time, but I was particularly fascinated by the various characters of each of the kiddos, all the more impressive since I know the parents so well.
I was very glad to play games of Solo (like Uno) and Charades with everyone while we waited on our food to arrive. Likewise, I was able to get regular reports from three different ages of what they had seen during the day or what they liked visiting.
By the end of the second week, it was pretty much routine to know that just about every day I would be seeing the family from Goliad. Monday nights are Kiosk Abend, and each Monday was represented by at least one McKee, if not everyone for just a brief moment. One Monday, we had to change our venue since the lady from our local Kiosk told me that she had to close early. Our back up venue happens to be a few steps away from Chris's apartment, which turned out to be rather convenient. The family had already gone upstairs, and Chris and I continued to have a little chat out on the street, several stories below. We didn't immediately recognize that everyone upstairs was able to hear us, but later (quite late in the evening, actually), we needed to take advantage of this fact by calling up to an open window in hopes that someone would hear and respond. You see, all the keys were upstairs, and at that point in the evening, the most logical solution was to have Regan drop the keys down to us below, which she did, which enabled Chris to enter the apartment building once we had finished our last, last, last beer of the evening.
As the month continued, everyone found their stride and it seemed normal to have them in my neighborhood. The youngest (chicken nugget fan) suddenly declared that she was quite fond of schnitzels, which I found quite charming. Furthermore, she tended to tuck in and finish off most of an adult portion. The middle daughter continued to have plenty of intelligent things to say, showing a maturity level much higher than her age, only to remind me of what being a kid is all about by stepping into a fountain, managing to soak her sock and shoe. Bennett, meanwhile continued to be the B-man; he and I go way back. I was honored to be with him when he drank his first Radler.
Chris had told me that everyone was having a great time, and he hoped that the people he was meeting were recognizing how much that he was appreciating the opportunity and time in Bornheim. In the true sense of the statement, they were truly happy to be here.
The entire staff of the pub fell in love with the kids, which is why several patrons to the pub might have been a bit surprised when a "dance party" started up spontaneously a few times. Not everyone is used to listening to songs like "I like sandwiches," or the "Num Num Num Num Num" song, but then again, they quickly realized that the 7 year old who was serving them their drinks was probably somewhat involved in the playlist. Said 7 year old continued to work a few more times, earning some impressive tips along the way.
Last week, I had to go down to Munich for a company event. I suggested that Chris take everyone to Munich for a couple of days, and we decided to visit another little town together on the return.
From previous posts, readers will be aware that my job satisfaction is not particularly high at present. I had actually considered skipping the company event until I chatted with a colleague who convinced me that I should attend, namely to finally meet some of the colleagues in person.
For that reason alone, I did enjoy the quick trip to Munich last Thursday. I met some guys I have been working with for several years and it was nice to finally put faces to the voices I regularly hear through conference calls. Alas, I was a little upset when our company president made a little speech those of us at the gathering. His words were probably not intended to be so biting and they certainly weren't directed specifically to me. Still, it left a bad taste with me, and I woke up feeling pretty down on Friday morning. Fortunately, I was to meet up with Chris and family and take the train on to Würzburg.
Upon our arrival Friday afternoon in Würzburg, we walked to our hotel, then climbed a steep hill to the fortress that overlooks the city. The kids were troopers, despite the 20 minute uphill hike and the small attack of wasps that hovered around our drinks as we sat outside a little snackbar. When we walked back down, Lori and I elected to go find a suitable restaurant for our dinner that evening, while Chris and the kids stopped off at a playground for a few minutes. This enable Lori and I to have a little one on one time in a pub that we passed as we "looked" for a restaurant.
A bit later, we did actually find a pizzeria with a huge outdoor terrace, where we queued for a table. The service wasn't the best, but the pizzas were good and the company was brilliant. Later, sans kids (who were semi tucked into bed), we returned to the pub for a couple of beers to wrap up the evening.
We returned to Frankfurt on Saturday afternoon and spent a good part of the rest of the weekend hanging around in the pub, primarily because the 7 year old "had" to work with her new best friend Maria, one of the staff.
The week started with a hint of sadness; the month was just about over. I could already see my 5 friends were going to experience a bit of emotion as they wound things down, but I could also see that about half of my neighborhood was going through the same thing. And as for me, I knew I would be struggling.
Our final Kiosk Abend with guests was a success, and the next evening, we arranged to have a final dinner at the local Apfelwein retaurant across the street from my house (and pub).
"I want a schnitzel," said the youngest, which came as no surprise.
During dinner, Chris asked everyone to say their favorite thing about the past four weeks. I was glad to be a part of the experience, and I enjoyed hearing each perspective. When you like everything, it is difficult to find that top one thing.
After dinner, we stepped back across the road to the pub for a final few rounds of beers, enabling everyone to get an opportunity to say auf wiedersehen. Eventually, the kids had to head off, so I got my hugs in before they headed down the street for their final sleep of the trip. Chris and I stayed on having another beer or two. Lori came back for one or two more herself, and then as the night came to a close, I walked both of them back to their flat for our goodbyes.
It is amazing how quickly time seems to just fly by. So much happened during the four weeks, but it didn't seem like it was that fast paced. Action packed, but leisurely. And brilliant.
I woke up yesterday morning about the time they would all be in their taxi to the airport. I figured it would be a bit of a struggle for me during the course of the day, and I was not wrong. At 17h, I realized that I needed to go have a quiet beer on my own in my usual spot at the pub. Outside, at the barrel (Tonne). This spot is my favorite because I can lean on a little railing, with my back to the street. I can see my apartment just a few steps away. And, I have complete view of the outside patio of the pub. I can see the staff and guests as they come in and out. To my right, the street continues up into the older part of the neighborhood. When I look left, I can see everyone coming up the street, either on their way home from work or from shopping, or on their way somewhere. It is one of my favorite places to people watch.
For the past month, I could stand at the Tonne and regularly look left and see one of the McKees (if not all of them) headed my way. You get used to things like that very quickly.
Sure, yesterday evening was just a little bit quieter, as my friends were still flying back home, but that didn't stop me from looking to my left.
thanks for a great month.
bryan
The scene was this: just a few hours earlier, Chris and his family had arrived on an international flight to Frankfurt, coming to live in my neighborhood for the month of July. Sure, it was lunchtime, and they were pretty tired after a long flight, during which no one really slept. So, we ventured out on to the plaza to find a little something to eat.
The problem was, I have never looked for chicken nuggets in Bornheim. It's not that I don't like chicken nuggets, it's just that I don't really think of those when I go out to eat. I quickly realized that I would need to get up to speed on what a typical 7 year old likes to eat, and likely what an 11 year old enjoys, also. My experience with kids of this age is primarily through my nephew, who has always tended to be a bit picky.
Fortunately, Chris was there and helped put things in perspective, which is basically just saying that anything and everything would be OK. We found a little snack bar around the corner from their flat which did offer nuggets and sat outside in the sunshine for a little bit before I walked back home to continue my work day.
The plan was simple: the family of 5 would live in Germany for one month, experiencing things in a way that no 3 to 4 day visit ever really can offer. It was more about hanging out in another type of environment as opposed to simply playing tourist. Sure, a few day trips would be a part of the month, with maybe a couple of overnight visits to some places near Frankfurt. Because kids were involved, the statement "all plans subject to change" was used rather often. But really, it was all about staying relaxed and not pushing things to the limit. After all, this was no whirlwind sightseeing European vacation.
My friends here in Bornheim were eagerly anticipating the arrival of my Dallas friends, particularly the kids who had not ever visited before. A few folks were a bit surprised that my friends would be staying one month, since that is a little bit unusual. Furthermore, some folks couldn't quite understand the attraction of Frankfurt, despite the fact that it happens to be home. Chris responded to these questions pretty directly. He explained that during their brief visit last summer, they enjoyed meeting all of my friends and thoroughly enjoyed the neighborhood and its character. Why wouldn't someone want to come and stay in Frankfurt for a month?
As usual, the gathering point was frequently my local pub, and over the course of the next several days as everyone got settled (and over their jet lag), we would meet up for a beer (or a sprite, depending on the age of the drinker) and find some place to grab a bite to eat. The pub fare tended to go down well with the kids and we could always take advantage of the nice weather to sit outside, be a little active (loud) and enjoying chatting with my friends from the neighborhood.
In summer, everyone wants to be outside because the weather is rather pleasant (at least, in comparison to the summer heat of Dallas). Even though I prefer the autumn and winter seasons, I still enjoy being able to stay out a little later (since it stays light longer) in the evenings, despite the fact that this tends to increase the beer intake to some degree. The fact that I have been able to enjoy the past month with close friends from my hometown just made things all that much better. We had time to get properly caught up on things. During my brief visits back to the states, we usually are able to hang out once or twice but it is always frantic and the time is too short.
We did not have that problem during this visit. We wisely took the four weeks and just lived.
I was able to help offer guidance with the things like visits to the dry cleaners, which trains were best for visiting places like Köln or Heidelberg, the preferred laundry detergent to buy and where to buy it. As a small unplanned surprise, I arranged for my dentist to help with a broken tooth. (with kids, all plans are subject to change).
A friend of mine who has lived in Frankfurt the last 8 years decided he needed to leave Germany, so we had one or two evenings saying our farewells to him. (a Ninja throwing star? C'mon, really?) Meanwhile, other friends came and went as they returned from their vacations and pretty much Chris and co. were able to experience a typical summer in my neighborhood. For me, it was a little atypical, for all the right reasons.
For example, I would join everyone for dinner several times a week. Sometimes I had to help translate the menu and coordinate the ordering, which wasn't too stressful once I figured out that usually 3 people would be talking about 3 different things at once. Spending time with younger people is not really something I get to do all that much, and at the beginning I was a little unsure of myself. Sure, I have known this family for a really long time, but I was particularly fascinated by the various characters of each of the kiddos, all the more impressive since I know the parents so well.
I was very glad to play games of Solo (like Uno) and Charades with everyone while we waited on our food to arrive. Likewise, I was able to get regular reports from three different ages of what they had seen during the day or what they liked visiting.
By the end of the second week, it was pretty much routine to know that just about every day I would be seeing the family from Goliad. Monday nights are Kiosk Abend, and each Monday was represented by at least one McKee, if not everyone for just a brief moment. One Monday, we had to change our venue since the lady from our local Kiosk told me that she had to close early. Our back up venue happens to be a few steps away from Chris's apartment, which turned out to be rather convenient. The family had already gone upstairs, and Chris and I continued to have a little chat out on the street, several stories below. We didn't immediately recognize that everyone upstairs was able to hear us, but later (quite late in the evening, actually), we needed to take advantage of this fact by calling up to an open window in hopes that someone would hear and respond. You see, all the keys were upstairs, and at that point in the evening, the most logical solution was to have Regan drop the keys down to us below, which she did, which enabled Chris to enter the apartment building once we had finished our last, last, last beer of the evening.
As the month continued, everyone found their stride and it seemed normal to have them in my neighborhood. The youngest (chicken nugget fan) suddenly declared that she was quite fond of schnitzels, which I found quite charming. Furthermore, she tended to tuck in and finish off most of an adult portion. The middle daughter continued to have plenty of intelligent things to say, showing a maturity level much higher than her age, only to remind me of what being a kid is all about by stepping into a fountain, managing to soak her sock and shoe. Bennett, meanwhile continued to be the B-man; he and I go way back. I was honored to be with him when he drank his first Radler.
Chris had told me that everyone was having a great time, and he hoped that the people he was meeting were recognizing how much that he was appreciating the opportunity and time in Bornheim. In the true sense of the statement, they were truly happy to be here.
The entire staff of the pub fell in love with the kids, which is why several patrons to the pub might have been a bit surprised when a "dance party" started up spontaneously a few times. Not everyone is used to listening to songs like "I like sandwiches," or the "Num Num Num Num Num" song, but then again, they quickly realized that the 7 year old who was serving them their drinks was probably somewhat involved in the playlist. Said 7 year old continued to work a few more times, earning some impressive tips along the way.
Last week, I had to go down to Munich for a company event. I suggested that Chris take everyone to Munich for a couple of days, and we decided to visit another little town together on the return.
From previous posts, readers will be aware that my job satisfaction is not particularly high at present. I had actually considered skipping the company event until I chatted with a colleague who convinced me that I should attend, namely to finally meet some of the colleagues in person.
For that reason alone, I did enjoy the quick trip to Munich last Thursday. I met some guys I have been working with for several years and it was nice to finally put faces to the voices I regularly hear through conference calls. Alas, I was a little upset when our company president made a little speech those of us at the gathering. His words were probably not intended to be so biting and they certainly weren't directed specifically to me. Still, it left a bad taste with me, and I woke up feeling pretty down on Friday morning. Fortunately, I was to meet up with Chris and family and take the train on to Würzburg.
Upon our arrival Friday afternoon in Würzburg, we walked to our hotel, then climbed a steep hill to the fortress that overlooks the city. The kids were troopers, despite the 20 minute uphill hike and the small attack of wasps that hovered around our drinks as we sat outside a little snackbar. When we walked back down, Lori and I elected to go find a suitable restaurant for our dinner that evening, while Chris and the kids stopped off at a playground for a few minutes. This enable Lori and I to have a little one on one time in a pub that we passed as we "looked" for a restaurant.
A bit later, we did actually find a pizzeria with a huge outdoor terrace, where we queued for a table. The service wasn't the best, but the pizzas were good and the company was brilliant. Later, sans kids (who were semi tucked into bed), we returned to the pub for a couple of beers to wrap up the evening.
We returned to Frankfurt on Saturday afternoon and spent a good part of the rest of the weekend hanging around in the pub, primarily because the 7 year old "had" to work with her new best friend Maria, one of the staff.
The week started with a hint of sadness; the month was just about over. I could already see my 5 friends were going to experience a bit of emotion as they wound things down, but I could also see that about half of my neighborhood was going through the same thing. And as for me, I knew I would be struggling.
Our final Kiosk Abend with guests was a success, and the next evening, we arranged to have a final dinner at the local Apfelwein retaurant across the street from my house (and pub).
"I want a schnitzel," said the youngest, which came as no surprise.
During dinner, Chris asked everyone to say their favorite thing about the past four weeks. I was glad to be a part of the experience, and I enjoyed hearing each perspective. When you like everything, it is difficult to find that top one thing.
After dinner, we stepped back across the road to the pub for a final few rounds of beers, enabling everyone to get an opportunity to say auf wiedersehen. Eventually, the kids had to head off, so I got my hugs in before they headed down the street for their final sleep of the trip. Chris and I stayed on having another beer or two. Lori came back for one or two more herself, and then as the night came to a close, I walked both of them back to their flat for our goodbyes.
It is amazing how quickly time seems to just fly by. So much happened during the four weeks, but it didn't seem like it was that fast paced. Action packed, but leisurely. And brilliant.
I woke up yesterday morning about the time they would all be in their taxi to the airport. I figured it would be a bit of a struggle for me during the course of the day, and I was not wrong. At 17h, I realized that I needed to go have a quiet beer on my own in my usual spot at the pub. Outside, at the barrel (Tonne). This spot is my favorite because I can lean on a little railing, with my back to the street. I can see my apartment just a few steps away. And, I have complete view of the outside patio of the pub. I can see the staff and guests as they come in and out. To my right, the street continues up into the older part of the neighborhood. When I look left, I can see everyone coming up the street, either on their way home from work or from shopping, or on their way somewhere. It is one of my favorite places to people watch.
For the past month, I could stand at the Tonne and regularly look left and see one of the McKees (if not all of them) headed my way. You get used to things like that very quickly.
Sure, yesterday evening was just a little bit quieter, as my friends were still flying back home, but that didn't stop me from looking to my left.
thanks for a great month.
bryan
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