Last Saturday afternoon as I was finishing my packing, I realized that I was feeling a little out of practice with the routine of business travel. The company I work for put some pretty hefty travel restrictions in place several years ago, so for the past three years, I have hardly been on the road. Initially, I was relieved that I would no longer have to travel so frequently, but a couple of years later my opinion changed. I missed being out and about visiting partners in different countries, and the isolated feeling of working at home really started to bug me.
With the new projects I am involved with, I will need to travel a little more often, and that is exciting. The other week I spent a few days in northern Germany, and will be up there again within the next couple of weeks. Meanwhile, I was assigned the responsibility to manage our Hungarian site, so last Sunday I headed to the airport to catch my flight to Budapest, where I would spend most of the week at our repair partner, meeting with the team there, along with our external customer.
I was a little irritated that once again, my weekend was being cut short. However, I did sort of prefer to travel on a Sunday afternoon rather than on a hectic Monday morning. I arrived to Frankfurt airport without any issue, went to the little kiosk to get my boarding pass, then stood in the queue to check my luggage through to Budapest. Unlike many other business travelers, I almost always check my luggage, primarily because I'd be staying away for 4-5 days; you can't really cram all that much clothing into a little overnight bag.
Sunday travel tends to have more non-business travelers, and they all seemed to be standing in the same queue for luggage drop off. I found myself feeling a little tense as I noticed all the blank stares on the other passengers, who seemed not to have the slightest idea how the self service luggage kiosks work. These kiosks have been in place in Frankfurt for at least a decade, and I wondered why the other travelers did not seem to understand how to use the little machines. I took a couple of deep breaths and just smiled to myself. There are always plenty of other things to worry about.
Which is exactly what I encountered a few minutes later when I got to the security checkpoint. For the past 18 years, going through the security check and passing the carry on luggage through the x-ray machine has always been an aggravation. I know others feel equally frustrated with this process. Yes, it is important to have the process in place for our safety. My issue is with the lack of preparation that everyone standing in line (most likely complaining to themselves about the waiting time) who wait until standing at the conveyor before removing items from their pocket, taking their little baggy of liquids out of their purse or backpack, and doing whatever else the clear signs hanging above the area instruct us to do.
When standing in these queues, I always notice the more experienced travelers, who have clearly found their little system that helps them move through the check point as efficiently as possible. I, too, have my own little process, where my belt and my jacket are already ready for the tray. My laptop is already out of my backpack so that it can be scanned separately. And there is never anything in my pants pockets.
Again, I told myself to be patient as I watched people wondering aloud, "What are we supposed to do?" as they stood in front of the conveyor, apparently having completely ignored the very simple and explanatory instructional video on display that we had all just watched for the full period of time we had stood in line.
When it was my turn, I got my trays onto the conveyor, walked through the body scan machine, then went to wait for my items to come out of the x-ray machine. Frankfurt airport has a little separate conveyor for those items that need to be checked separately, or better said, scrutinized. This is not a new thing for me, either. Carrying various technical items always tends to light up the x-ray machine, but this time around, the guy said, "Hey, we really need to go through all of your stuff."
Lovely.
Suddenly, almost all the contents of my backpack were out on the counter, which was not really what I wanted to happen. A second man took the tray that contained my jacket and removed all the contents from the jacket pockets. These contents included passport, wallet, mobile, a packet of tissue, and three disposable lighters.
The security agent informed me that I was only allowed to carry one lighter, so I had to throw the other two away. In fairness, the guy was really relaxed about the whole thing (particularly in comparison to the personnel in various other airports in America), but I was irritated for two reasons: one, I was holding up the process due to my own ignorance, and two, I had to give up some spare lighters.
You might be asking yourself why someone would need so many cigarette lighters, and I can only offer a bit of an explanation. When flying, I never take my zippo, since I know it would be confiscated. Therefore, I always take a disposable lighter with me. In my normal daily routine, I always tend to put a lighter (or two) in my jacket pockets. Many times I have been asked to light someone's cigarette, and depending on the circumstances, I may not always get said lighter back. One particular friend from the pub, an actual employee, NEVER had a light, so always asked to borrow a lighter before going outside for his break. Then, he would forget to return the lighter, and I would forget to get it back from him. Lighters are like ballpoint pens, you ask to borrow one, then put it right into your pocket immediately after using it, simply assuming that it was yours in the first place. In short, disposable lighters are just as likely to disappear as to run out of fluid.
So, I made it through security and headed to my gate, making sure that I knew exactly where my one lighter was. (The other reason I always carry a spare is in case the first one is out of fluid, something that has happened to me more than once.)
Boarding our flight was pretty uneventful, and once on board, I just took a little nap for the 90 minute flight to Budapest.
I was actually looking forward to my return to this city; it has been several years since my last visit. I was trying to remember the set up of the airport, since after awhile, all airports start to look the same. As we arrived, it took me a minute to get my bearings before I located the "good" men's bathroom (safe havens are always important, no matter where you are in the world) and the baggage claim.
While waiting for my luggage, I exchanged some money, then grabbed my suitcase and headed to the taxi stand.
The airport is on the west side of the city, and my destination was actually in a little suburb on the east side of the river, about 35 minutes away by taxi, so long as there was no traffic on the roads.
We made good time, and I got to my hotel and was waited on my a very helpful reception attendant. The hotel was not in a location full of restaurants, the immediate area was a bit more industrial, but it did have a little bar (and restaurant). I unpacked, freshened up, then grabbed my book and went downstairs to have a quiet beer and snack.
The bar was empty when I walked in, so I had my pick of tables, and settled down to enjoy a quiet evening. I ordered a beer and told the waiter that I would likely order something to eat after I had a chance to peruse the snack menu. Hungary is not really known for it's beers, but the local one I was drinking tasted just fine, and I said as such to the waiter as I ordered a second beer along with a sandwich.
Two minutes, 50 people left the hotel restaurant and came straight into the bar. The penny dropped as I deduced that these people were all a part of the same travel group, whose tour coach I had noticed parked outside of the hotel when I arrived. They all seemed to have come from the UK, at least from the accents I was hearing. The bar was not overly large, so all of them spread out to almost all the tables. I was bewildered to find that suddenly, one person from each table then went directly to the bar to order drinks for each table. I do appreciate that hotel bars normally don't staff for onslaughts of patrons, but suddenly we had 10 people standing at the bar, each ordering 4 to 5 drinks to take back to their table.
Part of this seems to be a culture thing; I notice that in a lot of English and Irish pubs, no one seems to understand the concept of table service. The same thing happens frequently in my local pub in Frankfurt. It irritates me every time. In fact, it is almost as annoying as waiting until you get to the conveyor at the airport security check before starting to prepare to go through the checkpoint. (And both of these peeves are right on par with someone who goes to the grocery store, buy shitloads of stuff, then waits until the last item has been scanned before starting to pack their groceries into their shopping bags, before finally paying for their items)
At any rate, I focused on my book and my beer, and tried not to let the interruption bother me too much. True, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of conversation, which revolved around people talking about the trip and various restaurants where they had eaten. I was dismayed to hear several people comment on the Italian meals that they eaten (in Hungary????) or why they had such a good time at the Hard Rock Cafe; I appreciate that not everyone wants to launch into the local culture, but come on. Why would someone not try to sample some local cuisine while visiting another country?
I finished my sandwich and figured it was time to head upstairs for the evening. However, because of the other patrons who continued to order rounds of drinks, the waiter never could get back to my table to check on me. So, I walked up to the bar myself to settle my tab, becoming slightly surprised when he asked if I was going to pay in local currency. In fact, I charged everything to my room, but asked him what currency had he expected from me. He went on to say that all the other guests had either paid with Euro or Pound Sterling. That had not even occurred to me; if the currency is in Forint, then that is what you have to pay with.
As I signed my own bill, I heard a lot of commotion in the lobby, and turned to see another busload of tourists arriving. This group seemed to be predominately Chinese, and I felt fortunate to be finishing up my evening before the bar became even more crowded. (I wonder what currency they would be using later on)
The purpose of the trip was to visit my repair partner, who will soon be taking on the repairs of mobile products for our customer in the Hungarian market. I have worked with this supplier for several years, and was really glad to be back to visit them.
As meetings go, things went really well. We had a lot of things to do during the course of the week, and like always, it generated it's share of stress. Three or four solid days in meetings just takes a lot out of you. More than once I remembered that despite the fact that all the discussions were held in English, I was the only native speaker. I don't intend that statement to be one of arrogance, but more so to highlight the importance of recognizing any potential communication issues. Once, we were looking at an excerpt from a contact, and one of the parties was unable to understand the text. I pointed out that the text did indeed mean what they expected it to mean, it was just stated differently. A very basic example of this is when someone says six or half dozen. To a non native speaker, this may not be so clear.
I always find such moments very endearing. After all, language is challenging, and communication is a bit of an art. I had lived in Germany for the better part of 10 years before I discovered that there was a second word for elevator, and that day was pretty enlightening, I must say.
Our hosts took us out for a couple of meals during our visit, and I was very fortunate to have the chance to visit some local spots for a bit of culture. Unlike some of the pasta loving guests staying at my hotel, I elected to eat more Hungarian cuisine during my visit. One night, a couple of the guys took me to a local pub that did specialize in burgers, which made for an interesting experience. True, the burgers were not necessarily my first choice, but the place was full of locals and that more than made up for things.
By the time Thursday came around, I was ready to return home to Germany. The week had been productive, but intense. One of the guys from our repair partner had mentioned that travel to the airport was a little difficult; sometimes it could take over 2 hours, depending on the traffic. I was booked on a flight that wouldn't leave Budapest until around 19h, but I wanted to avoid sitting in a taxi for multiple hours, so elected to head to the airport around 15h. Fortunately, the traffic was not heavy, so I found myself at the airport entrance at 16h.
Although the airport is not huge, it is busy. Check-in didn't take me long, but as I headed to security I did notice a busload of travelers arriving to check in at the Lufthansa desk; my instincts had worked well, as I realized that they would soon be trying to clog up the security conveyors.
And security was complete chaos. Some girl was feebly trying to direct people into various invisible lanes where the x-ray machines were. Once again, it seemed that everyone had forgotten the security process, and I was just glad that I had my ducks in a row, and only one lighter with me. I smiled as a I recalled the day before when one of my Hungarian host had borrowed my lighter, only to put it right into his pocket immediately after lighting his cigarette, prompting me to have to ask for it back.
Once past the x-ray machine, I stood waiting for my stuff to come through the conveyor. Everyone was a little grabby, but I shared a laugh with another person trying to collect their stuff. I kind of wished that I hadn't said, "it's the same fucking zoo no matter which airport we're in, eh?" as I wasn't expecting him to respond in English, and certainly not a New York accent.
"Have a good flight, Rabbi," I said to the clergyman has we parted ways into the waiting lounge.
I had three spare hours before my flight, and I wanted to find a place to get a good coffee and read my book. As I walked through the lounge, an employee from one of the luxury goods counters attempted to buttonhole me. I say attempted, because I didn't actually have a button hole on my jacket, and even if I did, she was not particularly tall. Certainly not tall enough to grab my jacket lapels.
(pause while I highlight this word buttonhole. Yet another example of an English word that the non-native speaker will very likely not immediately comprehend, at least not in the context in which I have used it here)
Anyway, suddenly a very cute employee was standing in front of me asking me a small question (as opposed to a big one), and I smiled and said, "Why not?"
This was highly out of character for me. In fact, despite the fact that I am a little easy when it comes to girls in ponytails, boots, and an extreme cute factor, I am usually able to smile and continue on about my business. In fact, I really can only recall two moments where I did actually stop to engage in such situations. Once, many years ago, some attractive woman in the grocery store tried to offer me Tom Thumb Turkey Bucks during a Thanksgiving promotion, which prompted me to respond, "Sure, what do I have to do?" even though I did not have the slightest idea what a Turkey Buck was.
The other incident was more recent, in my little corner of Bornheim. One afternoon I was walking home from the U-Bahn when a nice woman talked to me about making a donation to the World Wildlife Fund. Although I did stop to talk to her, I ended up declining to donate on the grounds that I already donate to Oxfam.
So, I suddenly found myself sitting on a stool at a luxury cosmetic counter, where said cute saleswoman talked to me about skin care. As I always tend to do, I noticed very quickly that she was more than just an attractive girl, and was rather a knowledgeable and capable saleswoman. I did not really have any interest in buying any product, but listened to her pitch, then realized that she might have something I needed after all. It turns out that she did, and as I picked myself up off the floor after she told me the price, I thought for a moment, "you know, Bryan, you might actually be saving money if you do buy this product."
In the end, I negotiated a bit of a price reduction, so instead of a ridiculously expensive product, I bought a really expensive product. And am really pleased with it so far. And, it served to take up almost half and hour of my three hour wait before my flight. Time and money well spent.
It was still a bit surreal to have such an experience, but a few minutes later as I was ordering an espresso, I was still smiling.
Until the lady barista told me that the money I was trying to pay with was no longer in use. I looked at the 2000 Forint note in my hand, then looked at her for further explanation. She managed to communicate that the currency changes out every so often in Hungary, and she pointed to one of the other notes in my hand and said that it was OK.
I realized that some of the Forints that I had leftover from one of my Hungarian visits a few years before are no longer legal. Fortunately it was only a few Euro, but still, I felt a little embarrassed. The coffee girl smiled and said no problem, and I sat down with a nice cap and read further in my book for another a couple of hours until it was time to board the flight.
My homeward flight was full of business travelers, which meant everyone was a real jerk when it came time to put things in the overhead compartments, and I was a little surprised (and dismayed) to find two travelers who almost refused to turn their laptops off and put their tray in the upright position before take off. These people had clearly traveled before, so why were they being so difficult?
In the end, we were able to take off, and I dozed during the short flight home. We arrived to Frankfurt around 21h, and I got my luggage without too much hassle, then went outside to find another zoo: the taxi queue.
Normally Frankfurt airport is really efficient, in my opinion. From time to time, I get agitated when we have to take a bus from the apron position to the terminal, but normally the frustration comes more from just wanting to be done with the flight, including luggage collection, etc.
This past Thursday evening, it was if everyone who needed a taxi had completely forgotten all sense of etiquette. It did not help matters that there weren't quite enough taxis, but it really came down to the confusion of where the actual head of the line was supposed to be. There is a little bit of construction going on outside of terminal 1, and even the taxi drivers are not so sure of where they are supposed to pick up the next fare. Again, everyone is in the same position. It is late in the evening, people are weary from travel, and they just want to go home. And they are really close to getting home, just as soon as they can grab a taxi.
After a few extended confusing minutes, I finally got my taxi, and was relieved to experience almost no traffic on the highway. Almost 15 minutes after getting in the taxi, I was pulling up out front of my house, thanks to the light traffic and a taxi driver who apparently plays a lot of "Need for Speed" in his spare time.
I keyed back into my flat, quickly unpacked, then headed over to the pub for a little refreshment before going to bed.
The week had certainly taken it's toll. I was really tired by Friday evening, but have enjoyed a very quiet, relaxing, restful weekend.
I am already looking forward to going back to Hungary, and maybe, just maybe, I might find myself buying some expensive healthcare products.
Why not?
see you out there
bryan
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Another Trip to the Waldstadion
Although I consider myself a fan of football, particularly for Arsenal FC, I have not really felt a need to get to the stadium to see matches in person. In the case of Arsenal, they play in a completely different country from where I live, so going to matches with any regularity is certainly not an option. I also happen to be a fan of CF Valencia, and over the years I have managed to get to some matches during visits to my sister and her family. Those matches at Mestalla were always great, but it was a bit of a production to get tickets organized, due in part because neither my sister nor my brother-in-law is a particular football fan. Fortunately, I did know several folks who are fans, and we found the odd ticket going spare for me to use.
I have touched on this over the years since I moved to Frankfurt; I now a have a 3rd soccer team that I root for, most of the time. Because my heart lies mostly with Arsenal, I tend to pay much more attention to the English league, even while living in Germany. That being said, I always keep an eye on the Spanish league, and I certainly am up to scratch on the Bundesliga and how Eintracht are faring. Again, though, just to make this absolutely doodly clear, if there was only one club that I could root for, it would be the Gunners.
The longer I have lived in Frankfurt, the Eintracht and the fans have become more endearing. I have watched countless Eintracht matches on television in various pubs around the city, and each experience is the same. The fans are actively engaged, shouting encouragement, cursing the refs, yelling at the moderator, almost as if they were at the match in person. I know lots of people who regularly go to the stadium for Frankfurt games, and have heard lots of stories about the great atmosphere. Eintracht are an OK team (let's say, mid-table) but can give the particularly passionate fan a lot of reason to get aggravated. True fans of particular sport teams know exactly what this feels like. My cousin in a vocal Kansas City Chiefs fan, I know loads of baseball fans that can comment on that exact moment when something happened in their club's history (prime example is when I moved to Boston in 1996; Red Sox fans were still talking about that "error" from the world series the decade before). And my father remains a die-hard fan of SMU football. Through all the thick and thin.
Most of my German friends are well aware of who I support, and as the world has become smaller, people have more opportunity to see televised matches from other leagues. Since I have lived in Frankfurt, I am amazed at how many Germans all now tend to be just as aware of what is happening in English football as in their own country. Some of German friends even have a English club that they support, very similar to my own situation, in reverse. Even if they don't support a specific club, they still are generally aware of what is going on, or at least have a bit of knowledge, often because they know someone who IS a fan of the club. (Today's post might very well win an award for the most run-on sentences, which I will just have to accept.) My point is, is that a lot of my German friends know I support Arsenal, so they think of me when they see something about Arsenal. It is a mutual thing; I know which friends are Herta supporters, or Gladbach, Bayern, and obviously, Frankfurt.
My world does not revolve around football, but I can certainly discuss the topic at any time. In recent years, I have gotten a little overwhelmed with the scheduling. Nowadays, one can see a televised match almost every day of the week, and I personally think that this is too much. Fortunately, most of my immediate friends feel the same way. With Erik and myself, sure we both can talk Arsenal football, but most often are suddenly talking about other things, culture, films, relationships, whatever.
In fact, I get a little tense when conversing with someone who can only talk about one topic. For example, there is a German guy who likes Arsenal and comes regularly to the pub on match days to watch the game. I am glad that he sits with us, but towards the end of last season, I got the impression that he is unable to expand to other discussion topics. I may sound a little unfair. During televised games, I tend to focus on the game itself, and am not so inclined to want to chat about other things. During the halftime break, it's normal that we discuss how things went in the first half, and what we expect (or need our team to do) in the second half.
But, with this one guy, he can only (or wants only) to talk Arsenal football. He has come to the pub for most of the games this season, and each time he talks about his trip to the Arsenal stadium. It's possible that he has short term memory issues, but for me, I much prefer to chat about other happenings...like "how was your work week last week?", "seen anything interesting in the news?" and various other ways of small talk.
My Monday evenings at the kiosk are great because we talk about a lot of different things. Sure, Teddy and Danny are both lifelong Eintracht fans, and are well aware that I am for Arsenal. As I mentioned above, we have the mutual respect for one another, and know good and well when it is appropriate to bring up the football topic. Inevitably, we will always talk a little football each Monday evening, but then move quickly on to other points. And, the rule is usually, if you know their team had a bad match day, then wait for them to bring it up. Especially in the case of Eintracht and Arsenal, where both teams have demonstrated a rather alarming ability to go off the rails with ridiculous ease. Example - 2 nil up at halftime for Arsenal against Watford, the team who had lost every game of the season so far. Second half, Arsenal fall over, allow Watford to score 2 goals, and almost a 3rd or 4th. Final result - a draw, which felt like a loss.
The following Monday, my Eintracht buddies stayed quiet until I remarked, "Well, yesterday sucked."
Then, we could discuss a little about the matches that had taken place during the previous weekend.
But, all of this is just part of being a fan.
In the past couple of seasons, both clubs have found themselves in a European club tournament, and we have all discussed the what if question, "What if Arsenal and Frankfurt have to play one another?"
Earlier this spring, both Arsenal and Eintracht had advanced to the latter stages of the Europa League, and suddenly, we were all looking at the potential brackets to check the possibility that the two teams would indeed, play one another. One my earlier posts comments on the semi-final of the Europa League, where Arsenal did get through, and Eintracht did not. (Again, the following Monday at the kiosk, we elected to skip the football discussion altogether.)
Because of the way football works, Eintracht had to qualify to play in Europa League this season, which meant that they started playing matches in July, a full month or so before the German league season even started. Meanwhile, Arsenal had done a pretty incredible of job of self-destructing during the latter half of last season, moving out of the dream Champions League positions and just barely managing to finish in a league position that automatically qualified them for Europa League.
Long story short, last month UEFA did the draw for Europa League, and would you believe, Arsenal and Frankfurt got put into the same group for the group phase of the tournament.
That afternoon right after the draw, my mobile chirped nonstop for several hours, as everyone recognized that we finally had this Eintracht-Arsenal match up. Some friends asked me (somewhat naively) who I would be rooting for. Others simply said how cool it was that the teams would finally play each other, and we would perhaps have that opportunity to watch the match in the pub, with a little bit of friendly rivalry.
I have only seen Arsenal play one other time in person, and while that was a dream come true, it is not as if I have felt the urge to race back to Islington. Part of this is due to the performance of the team over the past decade, but most of is due more to the lack of travel companion, and to some extent, the mere expense. Only recently, in the past season or two, have I started thinking about trying to arrange a trip to London to catch a match. Last season as we neared the quarter and semi-finals of the Europa League, some Eintracht friends had discussed a potential visit, should the two clubs be drawn together. In the end, we didn't have to worry about it.
With the draw for this season's Europa League, the group phase involves home and away matches. Thus, Arsenal will play Eintracht in London later on this fall. My holidays are already booked, so it is 99% likely that I will not even try to get over to London for the match.
Meanwhile, the first leg would take place in Frankfurt. In fact, I did not even consider trying to purchase tickets to the match. I assumed that I would simply walk over to the pub and watch the game with Erik and our London stadium visiting buddy, along with any other straggling Gunner fans that might come to the pub. (There are actually a handful or two of Arsenal fans floating around Frankfurt.)
Because of schedules, work travel and vacation, neither Teddy nor Danny had been present on Kiosk Abend for the past few weeks. So, we had not a chance to talk about the upcoming fixture.
So, when I got a text message early in September from Mono saying that he had a match ticket for me, I was totally surprised. "Hell yes, I want to go!" I responded, and quickly tried to clear my mind of any work related things might complicate my opportunity. We are just starting a new chaotic project in Germany, and at any moment I may have to jump in a train to go the repair partner; I was wary of this during the past weeks.
When I did talk to Mono one evening, he mentioned that his brother-in-law Danny, Eintracht fan and a member of the Kiosk group, was in Spain on holiday and would not be coming back until the end of the month, thus missing the match in Frankfurt. Danny had offered his tickets to Mono, and Mono, who is not really a football fan, thought of me, the Arsenal guy.
I was really grateful for the opportunity, and was (and am still) surprised. How cool is this?
A week later, Mono told me that he had the physical ticket for me, and then went on to say that he had a second ticket available, and did Erik want to go?
Of course Erik wanted to go.
As it happened, I was standing with Mono in the pub with the tickets, and Erik was already on the way to the pub just for a midweek beer. Upon his arrival, we looked at the tickets together, got kind of excited, and then I put the tickets back in my pocket for safekeeping, not before several other patrons had glimpsed them. Suddenly, everyone wanted to have a beer with me, and I had to explain that the tickets were already spoken for.
Well, this put things in a cool perspective. Suddenly, I had something to look forward during the work week. Last weekend, I had a beer with a couple of other friends, including a couple of Eintracht Ultras. In fact, my one other visit to Eintracht stadium was for a friendly match several years ago between Eintracht and Valencia. My Ultra friend organized that afternoon, which included a large quantity of beer; people are still talking about that day, as rarely do people in Bornheim see a Bryan that has had a marathon beer session. But that is another story...
So, my Ultra buddy and I agreed that we would ride to the Waldstadion together this past Thursday. Erik would meet us at the stadium, as would Teddy, who actually would be sitting right next to us in our section.
Thursday was a rather hellish work day, and suddenly at 17h I was scrambling to get out of my flat and head to the little meeting point. I had my pre-match jitters as I walked to a little pub to meet the friends. We had a quick beer before jumping in a taxi to head to the stadium. Waldstadion, as it is affectionately known (despite it's official name), is truly in a little forest, hence it's name.
There is literally no parking lot associated with the grounds. There are a couple of tram and strassenbahn stops, which is fairly standard for European stadiums.
My friends helped the taxi driver with the quickest route to the stadium, as they know this route better than just about anybody. During our ride, we discussed SUVs and how much gasoline they consume and how they are hurting the environment (see? we talk about all kinds of things). We encountered a bit of traffic, but made decent time and arrived about 45 minutes before kickoff. Plenty of time to get through security and get to our seats.
I found Erik, and we went through the little security check point, then walked through the little forest to the stadium. The game was sold out, as are most Eintracht games, and as one can imagine, hardly an Arsenal fan in sight. This was going to be a slightly touchy subject. Because we were using the tickets of an Eintracht season ticket holder, we were going to be sitting smack in the middle of the Eintracht fans. Though we have our moments, neither Erik nor myself is so inclined to be a wild crazy fan in the middle of the opponent section. Sure, we have both yelled at the television set during matches, and it is pretty clear where our hearts lie when it comes to team support. That being said, we had already agreed not to do anything silly or disrespectful, especially while sitting with the home fans.
Truth be told, Teddy was well aware that Erik and I were both supporting Arsenal, but it was a good section to sit in, and no one was about to make any issue. Had we been sitting with Alio in the Ultra section, it might not have been quite the same story, but overall, Eintracht fans are passionate, and respectful.
Ultimately, I just wanted to see a good football game, as did Erik. As did the other 46998 people in attendance.
One of the great things about German football is the fan support. The passion exists everywhere. Inside the stadium, the atmosphere was overwhelming. Absolutely fantastic.
When the Eintracht team were announced, the man on the P.A. would say the first name of the player, and then EVERY single Eintracht in the stadium (which was about 45K of the 47K in attendance) shouted the last name of the player. Amazing. I almost started shouting their names, too. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement.
Our seats were excellent, and quite near the Ultra section, which takes up one end of the stadium. Their constant chanting and singing, flags flying everywhere creates a very daunting place for a visiting team to play.
Eintracht started the match much much better than Arsenal, and very quickly had created a lot more chances on goal. This was a bit frustrating for both sets of fans. For Eintracht, they simply couldn't convert their chances, and for Arsenal, we kept getting lucky to avoid going behind by a goal or two.
In the 38th minute, a young Arsenal midfielder took a shot on goal, that sort of defected off a defender and fluked into the goal. It was a surprise to everyone in the stadium, as it looked harmless enough. I actually kind of chuckled, because it was borderline ridiculous, but that is how it can be in football. A goal counts. No matter if it is a brilliant goal with style, or simply a goofy fluke.
I kind of looked at Teddy sheepishly, almost feeling apologetic for the goal. Eintracht deserved to be ahead in the game.
At half time, most of the fans needed to head to the facilities so as to address the call of nature. A noticeable difference between football and other spectator sports like American football or basketball is the opportunity for a potty break. At your basic football match, you have (in this case, a full stadium) a bunch of fans who have consumed on average 2 to 3 beers already, and have stood for 45 minutes during the actual playing of the match.
Finally, there is a break, so everyone heads to the toilets at once. If one is lucky, they don't have to stand in line too long, and have a decent chance of relieving themselves, then jumping in the beverage line for another round of beers. This is pretty much what Erik and I did, and by the time we got our beers, the 2nd half had already started.
It is kind of interesting to see, though. A full stadium is suddenly empty (or half empty) for 15 minutes, then everyone is back in their seat watching the game.
In the second half, Arsenal started playing a little better, but still continued to allow Eintracht their share of chances on goal. As the game continued, Eintracht got more and more frustrated, but could not get their act together. Despite having more possession and more shots on goal, they conceded two more goals rather late in the game, so Arsenal finished as winners 3-0.
It was kind of a strange feeling being in the stadium, especially sitting with friends who support Eintracht. I did not feel inclined to celebrate the Arsenal goals, though I was certainly cheering a bit inside. As pleased as I was with the result, I really felt for the Eintracht fans. Again, so much passion all in the same place is an incredible thing to experience.
We left just before full time, in order to sort of beat the crowds. Normally this is not something I like to do, but we were sharing a ride with the same guys I'd come with, so we followed their lead. Outside the stadium, as we met up again to grab a homeward bound taxi, we shook hands and Erik and I accepted the win and gracious congratulations from the Ultras. A couple of minutes before, as we were walking back through the woods from the stadium, Erik and I already agreed that we were really pleased with the result, and not only that, it was our first time to actually see Arsenal win a match in person.
Back in the taxi, we did discuss the match (as one would expect) on the way back to a little pub in Nordend, then had a couple of beers with everyone. We started talking about different cultures and other bits, and once again I found it cool that all of us sitting at the table, all of which had just been in the stadium, were now talking about other things outside of football. It made for a great evening.
When it was time to head home, we walked back to the U-Bahn stop, and I got back to Bornheim, where I peeked in to the pub for the last couple of minutes of the quiz night. I ran into several folks who had watched the Eintracht on television, and of course, they knew who I had supported. Again, I remained a little quiet; I know how it feels when your team doesn't win, and it is never the right time to rub it in. Not that I even wanted to.
Most folks had already gotten over the loss (just like the Ultras a few minutes before from the other pub) and we just continued on with our evening. I chatted with a few other friends before heading home.
I checked my texts as I was getting into bed. Sure enough, Chris had already left another message saying, "you've got to be feeling great, eh?"
Absolutely.
see you out there
bryan
I have touched on this over the years since I moved to Frankfurt; I now a have a 3rd soccer team that I root for, most of the time. Because my heart lies mostly with Arsenal, I tend to pay much more attention to the English league, even while living in Germany. That being said, I always keep an eye on the Spanish league, and I certainly am up to scratch on the Bundesliga and how Eintracht are faring. Again, though, just to make this absolutely doodly clear, if there was only one club that I could root for, it would be the Gunners.
The longer I have lived in Frankfurt, the Eintracht and the fans have become more endearing. I have watched countless Eintracht matches on television in various pubs around the city, and each experience is the same. The fans are actively engaged, shouting encouragement, cursing the refs, yelling at the moderator, almost as if they were at the match in person. I know lots of people who regularly go to the stadium for Frankfurt games, and have heard lots of stories about the great atmosphere. Eintracht are an OK team (let's say, mid-table) but can give the particularly passionate fan a lot of reason to get aggravated. True fans of particular sport teams know exactly what this feels like. My cousin in a vocal Kansas City Chiefs fan, I know loads of baseball fans that can comment on that exact moment when something happened in their club's history (prime example is when I moved to Boston in 1996; Red Sox fans were still talking about that "error" from the world series the decade before). And my father remains a die-hard fan of SMU football. Through all the thick and thin.
Most of my German friends are well aware of who I support, and as the world has become smaller, people have more opportunity to see televised matches from other leagues. Since I have lived in Frankfurt, I am amazed at how many Germans all now tend to be just as aware of what is happening in English football as in their own country. Some of German friends even have a English club that they support, very similar to my own situation, in reverse. Even if they don't support a specific club, they still are generally aware of what is going on, or at least have a bit of knowledge, often because they know someone who IS a fan of the club. (Today's post might very well win an award for the most run-on sentences, which I will just have to accept.) My point is, is that a lot of my German friends know I support Arsenal, so they think of me when they see something about Arsenal. It is a mutual thing; I know which friends are Herta supporters, or Gladbach, Bayern, and obviously, Frankfurt.
My world does not revolve around football, but I can certainly discuss the topic at any time. In recent years, I have gotten a little overwhelmed with the scheduling. Nowadays, one can see a televised match almost every day of the week, and I personally think that this is too much. Fortunately, most of my immediate friends feel the same way. With Erik and myself, sure we both can talk Arsenal football, but most often are suddenly talking about other things, culture, films, relationships, whatever.
In fact, I get a little tense when conversing with someone who can only talk about one topic. For example, there is a German guy who likes Arsenal and comes regularly to the pub on match days to watch the game. I am glad that he sits with us, but towards the end of last season, I got the impression that he is unable to expand to other discussion topics. I may sound a little unfair. During televised games, I tend to focus on the game itself, and am not so inclined to want to chat about other things. During the halftime break, it's normal that we discuss how things went in the first half, and what we expect (or need our team to do) in the second half.
But, with this one guy, he can only (or wants only) to talk Arsenal football. He has come to the pub for most of the games this season, and each time he talks about his trip to the Arsenal stadium. It's possible that he has short term memory issues, but for me, I much prefer to chat about other happenings...like "how was your work week last week?", "seen anything interesting in the news?" and various other ways of small talk.
My Monday evenings at the kiosk are great because we talk about a lot of different things. Sure, Teddy and Danny are both lifelong Eintracht fans, and are well aware that I am for Arsenal. As I mentioned above, we have the mutual respect for one another, and know good and well when it is appropriate to bring up the football topic. Inevitably, we will always talk a little football each Monday evening, but then move quickly on to other points. And, the rule is usually, if you know their team had a bad match day, then wait for them to bring it up. Especially in the case of Eintracht and Arsenal, where both teams have demonstrated a rather alarming ability to go off the rails with ridiculous ease. Example - 2 nil up at halftime for Arsenal against Watford, the team who had lost every game of the season so far. Second half, Arsenal fall over, allow Watford to score 2 goals, and almost a 3rd or 4th. Final result - a draw, which felt like a loss.
The following Monday, my Eintracht buddies stayed quiet until I remarked, "Well, yesterday sucked."
Then, we could discuss a little about the matches that had taken place during the previous weekend.
But, all of this is just part of being a fan.
In the past couple of seasons, both clubs have found themselves in a European club tournament, and we have all discussed the what if question, "What if Arsenal and Frankfurt have to play one another?"
Earlier this spring, both Arsenal and Eintracht had advanced to the latter stages of the Europa League, and suddenly, we were all looking at the potential brackets to check the possibility that the two teams would indeed, play one another. One my earlier posts comments on the semi-final of the Europa League, where Arsenal did get through, and Eintracht did not. (Again, the following Monday at the kiosk, we elected to skip the football discussion altogether.)
Because of the way football works, Eintracht had to qualify to play in Europa League this season, which meant that they started playing matches in July, a full month or so before the German league season even started. Meanwhile, Arsenal had done a pretty incredible of job of self-destructing during the latter half of last season, moving out of the dream Champions League positions and just barely managing to finish in a league position that automatically qualified them for Europa League.
Long story short, last month UEFA did the draw for Europa League, and would you believe, Arsenal and Frankfurt got put into the same group for the group phase of the tournament.
That afternoon right after the draw, my mobile chirped nonstop for several hours, as everyone recognized that we finally had this Eintracht-Arsenal match up. Some friends asked me (somewhat naively) who I would be rooting for. Others simply said how cool it was that the teams would finally play each other, and we would perhaps have that opportunity to watch the match in the pub, with a little bit of friendly rivalry.
I have only seen Arsenal play one other time in person, and while that was a dream come true, it is not as if I have felt the urge to race back to Islington. Part of this is due to the performance of the team over the past decade, but most of is due more to the lack of travel companion, and to some extent, the mere expense. Only recently, in the past season or two, have I started thinking about trying to arrange a trip to London to catch a match. Last season as we neared the quarter and semi-finals of the Europa League, some Eintracht friends had discussed a potential visit, should the two clubs be drawn together. In the end, we didn't have to worry about it.
With the draw for this season's Europa League, the group phase involves home and away matches. Thus, Arsenal will play Eintracht in London later on this fall. My holidays are already booked, so it is 99% likely that I will not even try to get over to London for the match.
Meanwhile, the first leg would take place in Frankfurt. In fact, I did not even consider trying to purchase tickets to the match. I assumed that I would simply walk over to the pub and watch the game with Erik and our London stadium visiting buddy, along with any other straggling Gunner fans that might come to the pub. (There are actually a handful or two of Arsenal fans floating around Frankfurt.)
Because of schedules, work travel and vacation, neither Teddy nor Danny had been present on Kiosk Abend for the past few weeks. So, we had not a chance to talk about the upcoming fixture.
So, when I got a text message early in September from Mono saying that he had a match ticket for me, I was totally surprised. "Hell yes, I want to go!" I responded, and quickly tried to clear my mind of any work related things might complicate my opportunity. We are just starting a new chaotic project in Germany, and at any moment I may have to jump in a train to go the repair partner; I was wary of this during the past weeks.
When I did talk to Mono one evening, he mentioned that his brother-in-law Danny, Eintracht fan and a member of the Kiosk group, was in Spain on holiday and would not be coming back until the end of the month, thus missing the match in Frankfurt. Danny had offered his tickets to Mono, and Mono, who is not really a football fan, thought of me, the Arsenal guy.
I was really grateful for the opportunity, and was (and am still) surprised. How cool is this?
A week later, Mono told me that he had the physical ticket for me, and then went on to say that he had a second ticket available, and did Erik want to go?
Of course Erik wanted to go.
As it happened, I was standing with Mono in the pub with the tickets, and Erik was already on the way to the pub just for a midweek beer. Upon his arrival, we looked at the tickets together, got kind of excited, and then I put the tickets back in my pocket for safekeeping, not before several other patrons had glimpsed them. Suddenly, everyone wanted to have a beer with me, and I had to explain that the tickets were already spoken for.
Well, this put things in a cool perspective. Suddenly, I had something to look forward during the work week. Last weekend, I had a beer with a couple of other friends, including a couple of Eintracht Ultras. In fact, my one other visit to Eintracht stadium was for a friendly match several years ago between Eintracht and Valencia. My Ultra friend organized that afternoon, which included a large quantity of beer; people are still talking about that day, as rarely do people in Bornheim see a Bryan that has had a marathon beer session. But that is another story...
So, my Ultra buddy and I agreed that we would ride to the Waldstadion together this past Thursday. Erik would meet us at the stadium, as would Teddy, who actually would be sitting right next to us in our section.
Thursday was a rather hellish work day, and suddenly at 17h I was scrambling to get out of my flat and head to the little meeting point. I had my pre-match jitters as I walked to a little pub to meet the friends. We had a quick beer before jumping in a taxi to head to the stadium. Waldstadion, as it is affectionately known (despite it's official name), is truly in a little forest, hence it's name.
There is literally no parking lot associated with the grounds. There are a couple of tram and strassenbahn stops, which is fairly standard for European stadiums.
My friends helped the taxi driver with the quickest route to the stadium, as they know this route better than just about anybody. During our ride, we discussed SUVs and how much gasoline they consume and how they are hurting the environment (see? we talk about all kinds of things). We encountered a bit of traffic, but made decent time and arrived about 45 minutes before kickoff. Plenty of time to get through security and get to our seats.
I found Erik, and we went through the little security check point, then walked through the little forest to the stadium. The game was sold out, as are most Eintracht games, and as one can imagine, hardly an Arsenal fan in sight. This was going to be a slightly touchy subject. Because we were using the tickets of an Eintracht season ticket holder, we were going to be sitting smack in the middle of the Eintracht fans. Though we have our moments, neither Erik nor myself is so inclined to be a wild crazy fan in the middle of the opponent section. Sure, we have both yelled at the television set during matches, and it is pretty clear where our hearts lie when it comes to team support. That being said, we had already agreed not to do anything silly or disrespectful, especially while sitting with the home fans.
Truth be told, Teddy was well aware that Erik and I were both supporting Arsenal, but it was a good section to sit in, and no one was about to make any issue. Had we been sitting with Alio in the Ultra section, it might not have been quite the same story, but overall, Eintracht fans are passionate, and respectful.
Ultimately, I just wanted to see a good football game, as did Erik. As did the other 46998 people in attendance.
One of the great things about German football is the fan support. The passion exists everywhere. Inside the stadium, the atmosphere was overwhelming. Absolutely fantastic.
When the Eintracht team were announced, the man on the P.A. would say the first name of the player, and then EVERY single Eintracht in the stadium (which was about 45K of the 47K in attendance) shouted the last name of the player. Amazing. I almost started shouting their names, too. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement.
Our seats were excellent, and quite near the Ultra section, which takes up one end of the stadium. Their constant chanting and singing, flags flying everywhere creates a very daunting place for a visiting team to play.
Eintracht started the match much much better than Arsenal, and very quickly had created a lot more chances on goal. This was a bit frustrating for both sets of fans. For Eintracht, they simply couldn't convert their chances, and for Arsenal, we kept getting lucky to avoid going behind by a goal or two.
In the 38th minute, a young Arsenal midfielder took a shot on goal, that sort of defected off a defender and fluked into the goal. It was a surprise to everyone in the stadium, as it looked harmless enough. I actually kind of chuckled, because it was borderline ridiculous, but that is how it can be in football. A goal counts. No matter if it is a brilliant goal with style, or simply a goofy fluke.
I kind of looked at Teddy sheepishly, almost feeling apologetic for the goal. Eintracht deserved to be ahead in the game.
At half time, most of the fans needed to head to the facilities so as to address the call of nature. A noticeable difference between football and other spectator sports like American football or basketball is the opportunity for a potty break. At your basic football match, you have (in this case, a full stadium) a bunch of fans who have consumed on average 2 to 3 beers already, and have stood for 45 minutes during the actual playing of the match.
Finally, there is a break, so everyone heads to the toilets at once. If one is lucky, they don't have to stand in line too long, and have a decent chance of relieving themselves, then jumping in the beverage line for another round of beers. This is pretty much what Erik and I did, and by the time we got our beers, the 2nd half had already started.
It is kind of interesting to see, though. A full stadium is suddenly empty (or half empty) for 15 minutes, then everyone is back in their seat watching the game.
In the second half, Arsenal started playing a little better, but still continued to allow Eintracht their share of chances on goal. As the game continued, Eintracht got more and more frustrated, but could not get their act together. Despite having more possession and more shots on goal, they conceded two more goals rather late in the game, so Arsenal finished as winners 3-0.
It was kind of a strange feeling being in the stadium, especially sitting with friends who support Eintracht. I did not feel inclined to celebrate the Arsenal goals, though I was certainly cheering a bit inside. As pleased as I was with the result, I really felt for the Eintracht fans. Again, so much passion all in the same place is an incredible thing to experience.
We left just before full time, in order to sort of beat the crowds. Normally this is not something I like to do, but we were sharing a ride with the same guys I'd come with, so we followed their lead. Outside the stadium, as we met up again to grab a homeward bound taxi, we shook hands and Erik and I accepted the win and gracious congratulations from the Ultras. A couple of minutes before, as we were walking back through the woods from the stadium, Erik and I already agreed that we were really pleased with the result, and not only that, it was our first time to actually see Arsenal win a match in person.
Back in the taxi, we did discuss the match (as one would expect) on the way back to a little pub in Nordend, then had a couple of beers with everyone. We started talking about different cultures and other bits, and once again I found it cool that all of us sitting at the table, all of which had just been in the stadium, were now talking about other things outside of football. It made for a great evening.
When it was time to head home, we walked back to the U-Bahn stop, and I got back to Bornheim, where I peeked in to the pub for the last couple of minutes of the quiz night. I ran into several folks who had watched the Eintracht on television, and of course, they knew who I had supported. Again, I remained a little quiet; I know how it feels when your team doesn't win, and it is never the right time to rub it in. Not that I even wanted to.
Most folks had already gotten over the loss (just like the Ultras a few minutes before from the other pub) and we just continued on with our evening. I chatted with a few other friends before heading home.
I checked my texts as I was getting into bed. Sure enough, Chris had already left another message saying, "you've got to be feeling great, eh?"
Absolutely.
see you out there
bryan
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Fun With Condiments and Other Epiphanies
It is always nice to get something for free, and if you get to learn from the experience, that's just an extra bonus.
And I feel like I am a better person for it.
Things started innocently enough on Wednesday evening. Work has been rather hectic in recent days, and midweek was no different; I headed over to the pub for a bit just to clear my head. A few regulars were already standing at the bar, while the patio was unusually full due to the lingering summerlike temperatures. I stood at the bar with my friends and we chatted randomly as the landlord unboxed a crate of what turned out to be little jars of marmalade, sticky onion marmalade, to be specific.
Promotions in the pub are always kind of fun, and I always accept whatever freebies are on offer. Thus, I have really useless things lying around the house like umpteen little stress-relief squeezy rugby balls, various keychains with flashlights that don't work, and a couple of bottle openers. The bottle opener is actually quite helpful, especially since I never have gotten to be proficient at opening bottles in the creative German ways. Normally such promotions require the recipient to consume a certain amount of beverages before they get a little prize. (Once, in London, Chris and I had to drink 8 beers in order for him to get a t-shirt, and if he has worn that shirt more than once in the past 10 years, I would be surprised)
I always think of that Saturday afternoon when faced with new opportunities to receive a little prize. The aftermath of that afternoon cost me quite a bit in brain cells, so my standard rule is to refuse to consume any quantity of anything in order to receive such prize. Fortunately, the landlord has also understood this through the years, so as he unboxed the crate, he slid a few jars of this marmalade to those of standing at the bar watching him. No need for each of us to drink 4 pints of Guinness.
To be clear, we were all thankful for the small gift, then we all struggled to read the fine print on the label to find out exactly what we had just received. For me, I think of putting marmalade (usually orange) on toast in the mornings for breakfast. Sticky onion marmalade did not prompt such thought, and of course, the obvious question arose almost immediately. What the hell does this taste like?
I solved the mystery simply by opening up my jar and sticking a pinky in, just to get a little taste. I offered my jar to the others to sample, and we all stood there for a few seconds trying to come up with the right descriptive words.
The general consensus was that it tasted okay, but no one had the perfect idea as to what to use the marmalade with. Ideally, it would be used with some sort of meat, and this is logical because the marmalade tastes pretty much like cold caramelized onions. For those American readers who are familiar with that grungy onion stuff that gets left over on the sizzling fajita platter at any sports bar (or some of the more Tex-Mex restaurants, like On the Border), it's like that stuff was put into a little jar and prepped to be used as a condiment.
If that is your thing, then you will definitely like this sticky onion marmalade.
A few other patrons came in the pub after work, noticed several of us standing at the bar with pint glasses in front of us, next to little jars of marmalade, and of course, they wanted a jar, too. Likewise, they asked, "What does it taste like?" at which point I would hold out my jar for them to sample.
This went on for about the next 2 hours, during which time the general conversation topic turned to cooking. Several of my friends are handy in the kitchen, and this was certainly not the first time we have stood around discussing various ingredients or types of food. (The previous week we had debated the ideal cheese to go on top of a hamburger.) What is kind of cool is that everyone seems to have a slightly different area of expertise, so my Mexican-American friend can talk about the finer points of proper Mexican cooking, another guy goes once a month to France to purchase cheese and other stuff, and a few others are simply really knowledgeable on all fronts. It makes for a nice mix.
Well, eventually condiments entered the discussion, partially because of the number of marmalade jars sitting on the bar, and then someone mentioned horseradish. This was always a sort of special condiment in our house when I was growing up. It was used from time to time, but mostly the little jar sat ignored in the tray on the door of the refrigerator, along with the other condiments.
Although I am quite familiar with horseradish, I never used it so much. If anything, I would use wasabi with Asian dishes, but it is not as if I buy wasabi to have in the tray on the door of my refrigerator. In Germany, horseradish is used a lot more often. I first discovered this when I was at a local Apfelweinkneipe, and there was a little portion of horseradish next to another similarly colored item on my plate. The restaurant was dimly lit, and I just scooped something onto my fork and was rather surprised when my sinuses started dancing like they about to win a contest.
That particular day was the first day that I learned the German word for horseradish, Meerrettich.
Again, this is not a condiment that I regularly used, and once I knew how to be on the lookout for hidden plops of the stuff on my plate, I just accepted things and got on with it. To be clear, I do like horseradish, but like with really strong mustard, a little goes a long way. Wasabi, too, for that matter.
So, the word Meerrettich has been a part of my German vocabulary, but like the actual product, it goes mostly unused. Several years ago, I did have some sort of craving for it, and spent 30 minutes looking for the product in the grocery store. (For the answers to the questions like, "why the hell didn't you ask somebody?" see one of my previous posts about how much fun you can have in a supermarket exploring the aisles or on how to be a complete stubborn male and refuse to ask for help)
Contrary to logic, said Meerrettich was not in the condiment aisle as I would have expected, but in a small little miscellaneous shelf. I finally found it that day, and made a note to myself of the location for that next time (in another 5 years) when I might actually need some.
Pause while I humbly concede that I had expected to find a huge section of various condiments in the grocery store, and to some extent that is true: there are multiple shelves of different types of mustard. However, the assortment is minimal in comparison to an American grocery store. I had simply assumed to find a certain shelf in the market with horseradish because of my experiences of finding such a product on aisle 13 of Alberton's or Tom Thumb. I forgot that a lot of people make their stuff fresh, by simply buying the ingredient, in this case from actual plant root. The realization was kind of like when I first found out what a nutmeg looks like.
This all brings me to the point on Wednesday evening when I found out that for the last 10 years (since I first learned the word Meerrettich) I have been mispronouncing the word. Colassally.
First, I will extend my thanks to my friend who helped me learn how to pronounce the word properly.
Now, we will dive in to the details. German is a complicated language, for sure. One umlaut separates the word for humid and homosexual. Get that wrong, and the context of what you are saying can create a reaction not unlike some unsuspecting soul eating horseradish for the first time in their life.
For me, I had pushed through the intimidation of so many double letters in the same word and focused on the word Meer, which is the word for ocean or sea. To a native speaker, the pronunciation of Meer is noticeably different from the word mehr (more). To a plonker like myself, the difference is a little more subtle. (See the paragraph above, I cannot tell you the number of times that I have loudly exclaimed, "what a gay day," when complaining about the muggy temperature outside)
Likewise, the plural of Meer is Meere, and in the grammar rules of German, there are certain ways that you have to align the endings of adjectives. Thus, one might say from time to time "mehrer" or something similar when talking about "more." Those two words, to me, do not sound too different, and usually it is context that helps one grasp the meaning. Same thing with the pronunciation of -tich, which can sound remarkably similar to the word Tisch, which is the German word for table. At least, in my world.
All this time, I have basically (albeit infrequently) been bastardizing the word and saying something like Mehrer Tisch, which means absolute nothing, but a kind, understanding German might accept that utterance as "more tables." Using my logic, I have simply thought, "sure, we can say more tables or possibly sea tables when referring to horseradish, since why the hell is it called HORSEradish in the first place?"
Wednesday evening, Mono quietly told me the German word for radish, Rettich.
Oh.
So, back to the word with a little background explanation, I can clearly see Meer and Rettich.
Sea Radish.
I know, it doesn't make any more sense than Horse Radish, but there you go.
Even had I learned the German words for random vegetables that I have spent a lifetime trying to avoid (more on broccoli, peas, Brussels sprouts, and asparagus later) eating, I don't think I would have made the connection with Radish and Rettich as part of the word for horse radish.
Mono additionally reminded me of a couple of basic grammar rules when breaking down compound words, but I think this is what initially threw me: there were too many sets of double letters in the word Meerrettich.
Now, to spare myself further embarrassment in today's post, I will refrain from describing how I have been mispronouncing the word umgebung these past years.
Likewise, I am going to save my comments and thoughts about why I still tend to like the teenage movies that are being broadcast on Netflix, all of which seem to be direct copies of the typical John Hughes films from 35 years ago.
Fortunately, my sinuses are clear, so it's time to get out and enjoy the rest of the day.
see you out there
bryan
And I feel like I am a better person for it.
Things started innocently enough on Wednesday evening. Work has been rather hectic in recent days, and midweek was no different; I headed over to the pub for a bit just to clear my head. A few regulars were already standing at the bar, while the patio was unusually full due to the lingering summerlike temperatures. I stood at the bar with my friends and we chatted randomly as the landlord unboxed a crate of what turned out to be little jars of marmalade, sticky onion marmalade, to be specific.
Promotions in the pub are always kind of fun, and I always accept whatever freebies are on offer. Thus, I have really useless things lying around the house like umpteen little stress-relief squeezy rugby balls, various keychains with flashlights that don't work, and a couple of bottle openers. The bottle opener is actually quite helpful, especially since I never have gotten to be proficient at opening bottles in the creative German ways. Normally such promotions require the recipient to consume a certain amount of beverages before they get a little prize. (Once, in London, Chris and I had to drink 8 beers in order for him to get a t-shirt, and if he has worn that shirt more than once in the past 10 years, I would be surprised)
I always think of that Saturday afternoon when faced with new opportunities to receive a little prize. The aftermath of that afternoon cost me quite a bit in brain cells, so my standard rule is to refuse to consume any quantity of anything in order to receive such prize. Fortunately, the landlord has also understood this through the years, so as he unboxed the crate, he slid a few jars of this marmalade to those of standing at the bar watching him. No need for each of us to drink 4 pints of Guinness.
To be clear, we were all thankful for the small gift, then we all struggled to read the fine print on the label to find out exactly what we had just received. For me, I think of putting marmalade (usually orange) on toast in the mornings for breakfast. Sticky onion marmalade did not prompt such thought, and of course, the obvious question arose almost immediately. What the hell does this taste like?
I solved the mystery simply by opening up my jar and sticking a pinky in, just to get a little taste. I offered my jar to the others to sample, and we all stood there for a few seconds trying to come up with the right descriptive words.
The general consensus was that it tasted okay, but no one had the perfect idea as to what to use the marmalade with. Ideally, it would be used with some sort of meat, and this is logical because the marmalade tastes pretty much like cold caramelized onions. For those American readers who are familiar with that grungy onion stuff that gets left over on the sizzling fajita platter at any sports bar (or some of the more Tex-Mex restaurants, like On the Border), it's like that stuff was put into a little jar and prepped to be used as a condiment.
If that is your thing, then you will definitely like this sticky onion marmalade.
A few other patrons came in the pub after work, noticed several of us standing at the bar with pint glasses in front of us, next to little jars of marmalade, and of course, they wanted a jar, too. Likewise, they asked, "What does it taste like?" at which point I would hold out my jar for them to sample.
This went on for about the next 2 hours, during which time the general conversation topic turned to cooking. Several of my friends are handy in the kitchen, and this was certainly not the first time we have stood around discussing various ingredients or types of food. (The previous week we had debated the ideal cheese to go on top of a hamburger.) What is kind of cool is that everyone seems to have a slightly different area of expertise, so my Mexican-American friend can talk about the finer points of proper Mexican cooking, another guy goes once a month to France to purchase cheese and other stuff, and a few others are simply really knowledgeable on all fronts. It makes for a nice mix.
Well, eventually condiments entered the discussion, partially because of the number of marmalade jars sitting on the bar, and then someone mentioned horseradish. This was always a sort of special condiment in our house when I was growing up. It was used from time to time, but mostly the little jar sat ignored in the tray on the door of the refrigerator, along with the other condiments.
Although I am quite familiar with horseradish, I never used it so much. If anything, I would use wasabi with Asian dishes, but it is not as if I buy wasabi to have in the tray on the door of my refrigerator. In Germany, horseradish is used a lot more often. I first discovered this when I was at a local Apfelweinkneipe, and there was a little portion of horseradish next to another similarly colored item on my plate. The restaurant was dimly lit, and I just scooped something onto my fork and was rather surprised when my sinuses started dancing like they about to win a contest.
That particular day was the first day that I learned the German word for horseradish, Meerrettich.
Again, this is not a condiment that I regularly used, and once I knew how to be on the lookout for hidden plops of the stuff on my plate, I just accepted things and got on with it. To be clear, I do like horseradish, but like with really strong mustard, a little goes a long way. Wasabi, too, for that matter.
So, the word Meerrettich has been a part of my German vocabulary, but like the actual product, it goes mostly unused. Several years ago, I did have some sort of craving for it, and spent 30 minutes looking for the product in the grocery store. (For the answers to the questions like, "why the hell didn't you ask somebody?" see one of my previous posts about how much fun you can have in a supermarket exploring the aisles or on how to be a complete stubborn male and refuse to ask for help)
Contrary to logic, said Meerrettich was not in the condiment aisle as I would have expected, but in a small little miscellaneous shelf. I finally found it that day, and made a note to myself of the location for that next time (in another 5 years) when I might actually need some.
Pause while I humbly concede that I had expected to find a huge section of various condiments in the grocery store, and to some extent that is true: there are multiple shelves of different types of mustard. However, the assortment is minimal in comparison to an American grocery store. I had simply assumed to find a certain shelf in the market with horseradish because of my experiences of finding such a product on aisle 13 of Alberton's or Tom Thumb. I forgot that a lot of people make their stuff fresh, by simply buying the ingredient, in this case from actual plant root. The realization was kind of like when I first found out what a nutmeg looks like.
This all brings me to the point on Wednesday evening when I found out that for the last 10 years (since I first learned the word Meerrettich) I have been mispronouncing the word. Colassally.
First, I will extend my thanks to my friend who helped me learn how to pronounce the word properly.
Now, we will dive in to the details. German is a complicated language, for sure. One umlaut separates the word for humid and homosexual. Get that wrong, and the context of what you are saying can create a reaction not unlike some unsuspecting soul eating horseradish for the first time in their life.
For me, I had pushed through the intimidation of so many double letters in the same word and focused on the word Meer, which is the word for ocean or sea. To a native speaker, the pronunciation of Meer is noticeably different from the word mehr (more). To a plonker like myself, the difference is a little more subtle. (See the paragraph above, I cannot tell you the number of times that I have loudly exclaimed, "what a gay day," when complaining about the muggy temperature outside)
Likewise, the plural of Meer is Meere, and in the grammar rules of German, there are certain ways that you have to align the endings of adjectives. Thus, one might say from time to time "mehrer" or something similar when talking about "more." Those two words, to me, do not sound too different, and usually it is context that helps one grasp the meaning. Same thing with the pronunciation of -tich, which can sound remarkably similar to the word Tisch, which is the German word for table. At least, in my world.
All this time, I have basically (albeit infrequently) been bastardizing the word and saying something like Mehrer Tisch, which means absolute nothing, but a kind, understanding German might accept that utterance as "more tables." Using my logic, I have simply thought, "sure, we can say more tables or possibly sea tables when referring to horseradish, since why the hell is it called HORSEradish in the first place?"
Wednesday evening, Mono quietly told me the German word for radish, Rettich.
Oh.
So, back to the word with a little background explanation, I can clearly see Meer and Rettich.
Sea Radish.
I know, it doesn't make any more sense than Horse Radish, but there you go.
Even had I learned the German words for random vegetables that I have spent a lifetime trying to avoid (more on broccoli, peas, Brussels sprouts, and asparagus later) eating, I don't think I would have made the connection with Radish and Rettich as part of the word for horse radish.
Mono additionally reminded me of a couple of basic grammar rules when breaking down compound words, but I think this is what initially threw me: there were too many sets of double letters in the word Meerrettich.
Now, to spare myself further embarrassment in today's post, I will refrain from describing how I have been mispronouncing the word umgebung these past years.
Likewise, I am going to save my comments and thoughts about why I still tend to like the teenage movies that are being broadcast on Netflix, all of which seem to be direct copies of the typical John Hughes films from 35 years ago.
Fortunately, my sinuses are clear, so it's time to get out and enjoy the rest of the day.
see you out there
bryan
Sunday, September 08, 2019
Road Trips, Squats, and Plops
About this time last Sunday, I was racing around my flat getting ready for a business trip. Despite my preparation lists that I had made, I had procrastinated just a wee bit. Thus, I was feeling some pressure to get everything done before my colleague arrived to pick me up and drive us to Flensburg.
It was a warm day, so I had a pretty good sweat going as I mopped the floors one last time (to ensure my colleague saw a tidy flat) and double-checked to confirm that my suitcase contained enough clothes for the week, and that my backpack had all my stuff. Due to travel constraints within our company, I have not done business travel with any regularity in quite some time, and I was feeling a little out of practice.
But I felt excited. I was ready to get on the road again.
The purpose of the trip was to host our Chinese customer at our German repair partner. The customer would provide technical training to the repair team, the supply chain representative would help get the materials and ordering system process set up, and my colleague and I would be holding everything together, including setting up the overall after sales process with the customer and the partner. I knew it would be a pretty intensive few days, but first, we had to get to the repair site in Flensburg.
My Austrian colleague had departed his house early Sunday morning, so had already driven for six hours before arriving at my place. When he arrived, I made us a couple of espressos and we talked about the upcoming fun we were about to have. My colleague and I have worked together a lot over the past years, but as our company set up tends to isolate us, we had not seen each other face to face in four or five years. It was good to see him again.
I was excited about the next few days, and what that would bring, but I was also really enthusiastic about traveling through Germany by car. I have no license, so am unable to drive in the country, and as much as I enjoy the train service, my opportunities to ride in a car are rather limited.
There is nothing particularly interesting about the landscape between Frankfurt and our destination six hours north. Flensburg is the most northern city in the country, about four miles from the Danish border. Still, there is always something to look at when sitting the passenger seat of the car. I tend to always play the famous track by Kraftwerk in my head when riding in a car in Germany, which, as I have mentioned, is rather infrequent.
Fortunately, traffic was not too heavy, and we drove north with sunny skies. After a couple of hours, we stopped for our first coffee and ciggy break. We both commented on our appreciation for how much rest stops have progressed in the past decades. In the past, one might encounter a really unpleasant restroom facility, along with some antiquated vending machines. Now days, there is a proper little self serve cafe, clean restrooms (and hell yes, I gladly pay a euro for their upkeep), and best of all, a proper espresso bar.
The temperatures were steadily dropping over the course of the afternoon, and this was also welcome. I am really ready for autumn to come on strong.
Our second stop was just before Hamburg; the coffee was still good, the temperature delightfully cool, and it was a decent way to spend an afternoon, albeit it that the travel requirement meant that the weekend was cut short.
Although we chatted for most of the drive about various topics, we did have some lull in conversation, during which time I played the license plate game. As a child traveling across the states by car on family vacations, I would always look for other license plates from out of state. For example, if we were in Wyoming, it would be neat to see a license plate from somewhere like Vermont, just because of the distance.
My version of the game in Germany is slightly different, although I did enjoy seeing several other plates from other EU countries. In Germany, the license plate format shows which city or district the car is registered in, and obviously the largest cities only have one letter: F for Frankfurt, B for Berlin, K for Köln, etc. What was not so clear to me are the codes for the other, smaller districts. I just read (five seconds ago) that the smaller the district, the more letters are used. Thus, a large city like Berlin has a one letter code, while a small district will likely have three letters, like MTK (Main-Taunus-Kreis, which is part of the Frankfurt metro area, but contains nine little towns, all to the west of Frankfurt.
At any rate, I quickly discovered that I did not know too many of the districts, but reminded myself that once, when traveling with some German friends about 10 years ago, we had played the same game, and they did not know that many districts, either. Of course, why would you really need to know each and every district code, outside of that one day in the future when the question pops up during a pub quiz?
Playing the license plate game took my mind off of the numerous questions I had about the upcoming tasks of the project, and was a great way to relax. Furthermore, it distracted me from the stiffness that was setting in to my legs from sitting too long in the car. Just a few days before, I had started a new challenge for leg training, where I do daily squats. With day 1, you start with 50 squats, then increase each day by 5 reps, pausing every fourth day. Then, you jump by 20, and follow that pattern through an entire month. Although I have regularly done leg training over the past months, this new challenge was upping the ante; my legs were certainly feeling it, and as we got closer and closer to Flensburg, I was more and more ready to get there so I could have a chance to loosen up.
Indeed, we arrived to Flensburg around 8pm. We checked into our hotel, and I phoned my grandmother to wish her a happy 103 birthday, then we grabbed a quick dinner at cafe. It had been a long day for me, and even longer for my colleague, so we went to bed soon after dinner.
Well, the next few days were long and intense. Anyone who has gone through workshops or had extended business meetings with customers can easily relate. Add in a little bit of a language barrier, and by day's end, you are mentally exhausted.
Thankfully, we were in Flensburg, a nice little city that happens to brew one fantastic beer. By a small stroke of luck, our Chinese customers had brought their wives on the trip, so instead of having to socialize and entertain during the evening, we were left to do our own thing. The customers preferred to do their own thing. I know that there will be other times in the future when this will not be the case, so I enjoyed the down time.
Flensburg sits right at the innermost tip of the fjord (Flensburger Förde), and again, I have to make the comment that you just cannot go wrong with having a city on the water. The waterfront has several little restaurants and cafes, including a local brewery that served great food and beverage. I have known this restaurant since my colleague introduced me to it about seven years ago. Since my last visit to Flensburg was in early 2016, I was feeling long over due.
In fact, we ended up eating their three times during the next few days. As my colleague said at the end of each working day, "Ja, Ich glaub's, wir haben ein Bierchen verdient." (we deserve a beer).
Throughout most of Germany, the weather had turned a lot cooler from the beginning of September, and in Flensburg, being right on the water, we had our share of rain. Each day it would rain for a little bit, then the sun would come out for fifteen minutes, then it would rain again.
Wednesday morning, before we headed to the repair site, we looked at the sunny sky and said, "Today looks like we will avoid any rain."
That was true up until five pm, when we wrapped up our meetings with the repair partner. We had initially planned to stay until Thursday lunchtime before driving back south, but we realized that we had covered all the topics. I will regularly visit Flensburg in the coming months, anyway, so there was no real need to extend our stay. Besides, getting an earlier start on our long drive home was a positive.
First, however, we had our last evening (of the trip) in Flensburg. We decided to walk through the town to look for another place to eat, but when the rain started pounding down (making up for the sunny day), we elected to return one last time to the brewery. Afterwards, we stood outside and watched it continue to bucket down, thinking that the rain might let up, allowing us to get back to the parking garage 10 minutes away. In the end, we sucked it up, got soaked, and cursed whoever said something like "run between the rain drops."
We had parked in the garage of the shopping center, which was at the other end of the town where our restaurant was located. Dripping wet, we entered the shopping center to see if there was a cafe that served espresso. A hot beverage sounded like a good idea, but alas, Flensburg shuts down around 8pm. The shopping mall was not huge by any means, but it did have two cafes, both of which were closing just as we walked up to them. As a last resort, I let my colleague talk me into going to the McDonald's ("Bryan, the McCafe does ok in a pinch.")
Well, either the employee did not know what he was doing, or it wasn't a McCafe. I am not really sure what a McCafe is anyway, but no matter. It was simply McShit.
Yes, I can be a bit of a coffee snob, and the fact is, when espresso is not done right, it tastes horrible. I should have known better and simply skipped the coffee, but hey ho. At least the beer we had consumed over the past days had been exceptional.
Thursday morning, the rain continued, which made our departure from Flensburg a little more tedious. No one likes to drive in a rainstorm, and certainly not for six hours, but by mid-morning, the rain had subsided. Unfortunately, we encountered some hefty traffic, delaying us by about an hour. Thankfully, the espresso bars at the rest stops were functioning well, and we arrived back to Frankfurt around 5pm. My colleague did not stick around, as he still had another long drive ahead of him.
All in all, the week had gone pretty well. I was glad to be back at home, and spent a couple of hours at the pub catching up on local stuff with friends I had not seen in a few days. A lot can happen in Bornheim, you know. Sometimes if you blink, you miss it.
Friday was a normal home office work day for me, and like usual, I took time in the afternoon to skype with my father, who had just gotten back from a trip to Alaska. I was glad to catch up with him and hear how much he enjoyed seeing a part of the world he had never been to before.
Now, it is Sunday afternoon, and I am enjoying the last bit of a two day weekend. The cool temperatures are settling in nicely, I am getting the daily leg routine in with fervor (it feels so good when I am done), and the working week will be here soon enough. My beer bottle may not make such a cool sound when I open it, but that's ok. I'll get back up to have a Flens soon enough.
Plop.
see you out there
bryan
It was a warm day, so I had a pretty good sweat going as I mopped the floors one last time (to ensure my colleague saw a tidy flat) and double-checked to confirm that my suitcase contained enough clothes for the week, and that my backpack had all my stuff. Due to travel constraints within our company, I have not done business travel with any regularity in quite some time, and I was feeling a little out of practice.
But I felt excited. I was ready to get on the road again.
The purpose of the trip was to host our Chinese customer at our German repair partner. The customer would provide technical training to the repair team, the supply chain representative would help get the materials and ordering system process set up, and my colleague and I would be holding everything together, including setting up the overall after sales process with the customer and the partner. I knew it would be a pretty intensive few days, but first, we had to get to the repair site in Flensburg.
My Austrian colleague had departed his house early Sunday morning, so had already driven for six hours before arriving at my place. When he arrived, I made us a couple of espressos and we talked about the upcoming fun we were about to have. My colleague and I have worked together a lot over the past years, but as our company set up tends to isolate us, we had not seen each other face to face in four or five years. It was good to see him again.
I was excited about the next few days, and what that would bring, but I was also really enthusiastic about traveling through Germany by car. I have no license, so am unable to drive in the country, and as much as I enjoy the train service, my opportunities to ride in a car are rather limited.
There is nothing particularly interesting about the landscape between Frankfurt and our destination six hours north. Flensburg is the most northern city in the country, about four miles from the Danish border. Still, there is always something to look at when sitting the passenger seat of the car. I tend to always play the famous track by Kraftwerk in my head when riding in a car in Germany, which, as I have mentioned, is rather infrequent.
Fortunately, traffic was not too heavy, and we drove north with sunny skies. After a couple of hours, we stopped for our first coffee and ciggy break. We both commented on our appreciation for how much rest stops have progressed in the past decades. In the past, one might encounter a really unpleasant restroom facility, along with some antiquated vending machines. Now days, there is a proper little self serve cafe, clean restrooms (and hell yes, I gladly pay a euro for their upkeep), and best of all, a proper espresso bar.
The temperatures were steadily dropping over the course of the afternoon, and this was also welcome. I am really ready for autumn to come on strong.
Our second stop was just before Hamburg; the coffee was still good, the temperature delightfully cool, and it was a decent way to spend an afternoon, albeit it that the travel requirement meant that the weekend was cut short.
Although we chatted for most of the drive about various topics, we did have some lull in conversation, during which time I played the license plate game. As a child traveling across the states by car on family vacations, I would always look for other license plates from out of state. For example, if we were in Wyoming, it would be neat to see a license plate from somewhere like Vermont, just because of the distance.
My version of the game in Germany is slightly different, although I did enjoy seeing several other plates from other EU countries. In Germany, the license plate format shows which city or district the car is registered in, and obviously the largest cities only have one letter: F for Frankfurt, B for Berlin, K for Köln, etc. What was not so clear to me are the codes for the other, smaller districts. I just read (five seconds ago) that the smaller the district, the more letters are used. Thus, a large city like Berlin has a one letter code, while a small district will likely have three letters, like MTK (Main-Taunus-Kreis, which is part of the Frankfurt metro area, but contains nine little towns, all to the west of Frankfurt.
At any rate, I quickly discovered that I did not know too many of the districts, but reminded myself that once, when traveling with some German friends about 10 years ago, we had played the same game, and they did not know that many districts, either. Of course, why would you really need to know each and every district code, outside of that one day in the future when the question pops up during a pub quiz?
Playing the license plate game took my mind off of the numerous questions I had about the upcoming tasks of the project, and was a great way to relax. Furthermore, it distracted me from the stiffness that was setting in to my legs from sitting too long in the car. Just a few days before, I had started a new challenge for leg training, where I do daily squats. With day 1, you start with 50 squats, then increase each day by 5 reps, pausing every fourth day. Then, you jump by 20, and follow that pattern through an entire month. Although I have regularly done leg training over the past months, this new challenge was upping the ante; my legs were certainly feeling it, and as we got closer and closer to Flensburg, I was more and more ready to get there so I could have a chance to loosen up.
Indeed, we arrived to Flensburg around 8pm. We checked into our hotel, and I phoned my grandmother to wish her a happy 103 birthday, then we grabbed a quick dinner at cafe. It had been a long day for me, and even longer for my colleague, so we went to bed soon after dinner.
Well, the next few days were long and intense. Anyone who has gone through workshops or had extended business meetings with customers can easily relate. Add in a little bit of a language barrier, and by day's end, you are mentally exhausted.
Thankfully, we were in Flensburg, a nice little city that happens to brew one fantastic beer. By a small stroke of luck, our Chinese customers had brought their wives on the trip, so instead of having to socialize and entertain during the evening, we were left to do our own thing. The customers preferred to do their own thing. I know that there will be other times in the future when this will not be the case, so I enjoyed the down time.
Flensburg sits right at the innermost tip of the fjord (Flensburger Förde), and again, I have to make the comment that you just cannot go wrong with having a city on the water. The waterfront has several little restaurants and cafes, including a local brewery that served great food and beverage. I have known this restaurant since my colleague introduced me to it about seven years ago. Since my last visit to Flensburg was in early 2016, I was feeling long over due.
In fact, we ended up eating their three times during the next few days. As my colleague said at the end of each working day, "Ja, Ich glaub's, wir haben ein Bierchen verdient." (we deserve a beer).
Throughout most of Germany, the weather had turned a lot cooler from the beginning of September, and in Flensburg, being right on the water, we had our share of rain. Each day it would rain for a little bit, then the sun would come out for fifteen minutes, then it would rain again.
Wednesday morning, before we headed to the repair site, we looked at the sunny sky and said, "Today looks like we will avoid any rain."
That was true up until five pm, when we wrapped up our meetings with the repair partner. We had initially planned to stay until Thursday lunchtime before driving back south, but we realized that we had covered all the topics. I will regularly visit Flensburg in the coming months, anyway, so there was no real need to extend our stay. Besides, getting an earlier start on our long drive home was a positive.
First, however, we had our last evening (of the trip) in Flensburg. We decided to walk through the town to look for another place to eat, but when the rain started pounding down (making up for the sunny day), we elected to return one last time to the brewery. Afterwards, we stood outside and watched it continue to bucket down, thinking that the rain might let up, allowing us to get back to the parking garage 10 minutes away. In the end, we sucked it up, got soaked, and cursed whoever said something like "run between the rain drops."
We had parked in the garage of the shopping center, which was at the other end of the town where our restaurant was located. Dripping wet, we entered the shopping center to see if there was a cafe that served espresso. A hot beverage sounded like a good idea, but alas, Flensburg shuts down around 8pm. The shopping mall was not huge by any means, but it did have two cafes, both of which were closing just as we walked up to them. As a last resort, I let my colleague talk me into going to the McDonald's ("Bryan, the McCafe does ok in a pinch.")
Well, either the employee did not know what he was doing, or it wasn't a McCafe. I am not really sure what a McCafe is anyway, but no matter. It was simply McShit.
Yes, I can be a bit of a coffee snob, and the fact is, when espresso is not done right, it tastes horrible. I should have known better and simply skipped the coffee, but hey ho. At least the beer we had consumed over the past days had been exceptional.
Thursday morning, the rain continued, which made our departure from Flensburg a little more tedious. No one likes to drive in a rainstorm, and certainly not for six hours, but by mid-morning, the rain had subsided. Unfortunately, we encountered some hefty traffic, delaying us by about an hour. Thankfully, the espresso bars at the rest stops were functioning well, and we arrived back to Frankfurt around 5pm. My colleague did not stick around, as he still had another long drive ahead of him.
All in all, the week had gone pretty well. I was glad to be back at home, and spent a couple of hours at the pub catching up on local stuff with friends I had not seen in a few days. A lot can happen in Bornheim, you know. Sometimes if you blink, you miss it.
Friday was a normal home office work day for me, and like usual, I took time in the afternoon to skype with my father, who had just gotten back from a trip to Alaska. I was glad to catch up with him and hear how much he enjoyed seeing a part of the world he had never been to before.
Now, it is Sunday afternoon, and I am enjoying the last bit of a two day weekend. The cool temperatures are settling in nicely, I am getting the daily leg routine in with fervor (it feels so good when I am done), and the working week will be here soon enough. My beer bottle may not make such a cool sound when I open it, but that's ok. I'll get back up to have a Flens soon enough.
Plop.
see you out there
bryan
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