The other week, I was on a business trip in another German state to meet a couple of coworkers. One colleague was coming in from the Czech Republic, and another was coming from the Alsace area near to the German border. I took the train to Erfurt Monday morning, and like always, followed the rules involving mask wearing. (In public transport, everyone over the age of six has to wear a mask.)
Through this whole experience, I have rarely seen anyone not following the rules; everyone I have seen in supermarkets, U-Bahns, trains, and restaurants has always had a mask on. Despite the fact that I am not gallivanting all over the city, I have taken great comfort in the absence of reports of people defiantly refusing to wear masks. It has all kind of become routine.
Upon my arrival in Erfurt, I took a taxi to the repair facility, and I did notice that the driver was not wearing his mask. I found this curious, but decided not to say anything about it. I was not actually sure what the actual rules were in the particular state.
I got settled in the site, turned on my laptop, and was writing an email when one of the colleagues walked in. "What are the mask rules?"
"Good question. I was just wondering that myself. What made you ask?"
He responded that at the security check in at the site, none of the guards were wearing masks. I sort of made the argument (however loose) that maybe they were following the "if you are at your desk, you do not have to wear your mask," rule.
In the facility, we always had to have our masks on while walking around, and it was no big deal.
A couple of hours later, the third colleague arrived. We finished our work day, then headed to the hotel.
Before dinner, we met in the lobby bar for a quick beer. The servers wore their masks, as did we while walking to our table. Once seated, of course, we removed our masks.
The particular state has some pretty high infection numbers, and the three of us discussed the current situation, comparing experiences from our three different living areas.
Upon arrival at the restaurant, the greeter confirmed our reservation, then asked us for our proof of vaccination, which we all promptly provided. (Inside dining requires one to show proof of recovery, negative test, or vaccination, known as the 3G rule.)
The second evening, our experience at a different restaurant was identical. All the rules being followed, and, like I said, it has gotten so routine, you do not really even think about it.
Later in the week, I got back to Frankfurt, and was more than ready for a couple of beers Friday evening. I headed over to the pub, where I joined a friend and his wife, who were enjoying their own start to the weekend.
"What the hell are the mask rules, these days?" Rob asked, nodding in the direction of the waitress walking through the patio. She was not wearing her mask. I have known the girl for a little over a year (she worked in the pub the previous summer), and actually had only seen her without a mask one time. The girl happens to be rather striking, and last autumn there was some regular speculation as to what this girl really looked like. No one had ever really seen her face.
Yes, that striking.
Funny though, is that it took this incident for us to question the rules. It had taken us a few minutes to compute "what is different in the picture" before realizing it was simply her not wearing a mask.
A bit later, I asked her about the current pub mask rules, and she responded that outside it was no longer a requirement (but a decision of the restaurant). But, inside, the masks still need to be worn, and because the waitstaff serves both indoors and outdoors, they mostly keep their masks on while running around to tables.
The couple and I shared our recent experiences about mask requirements. I told them of my couple of days in Erfurt, and they mentioned a recent weekend get away to Paris. All three of us commented on our observations that along our high street, where most of the restaurants and pubs are located, we had not seen too many establishments cracking down on the rules, whereas Erfurt and Paris seemed to be 100% compliant.
It was just one of those things that you talk about at the pub, and all three of us recognized our comfort levels; we agreed that we were less likely to enter a super crowded establishment during the winter months. Those kinds of comments are easier to make when the temperatures are still mildly cool. Both of them were wearing stocking caps and coats on that evening, and the current temps were nothing compared to what we will have during December and January.
I spent the rest of the weekend doing the odd bits and pieces, as you do. That included spending a nice Sunday afternoon outside, as I alluded to in the last post. Before I headed outside that afternoon, I did place an order for some boxers, as I realized it was time to stock back up. I was on a little bit of a money spending kick, as I had just booked some airfare, and I was keen to get those purchases on the October credit card statement.
This is the part of the blog where I might be accused of sharing too much information, but oh well. When I purchase boxers, I purchase in quantity. And then never seem to wear them. Instead, I keep wearing my old boxers, of which I have plenty, but they just get more and more ratty. Still, I keep washing them and wearing them again. Eventually, I decide to discard a pair, but usually a couple of wears past their welcome.
Anyway, rather than purchase in a store, I elected this time around to order online. Upon order confirmation, I got kind of a vague delivery date, but expected them sometime during the week.
The week itself, from a work perspective, was busy as usual, only made slightly confusing as we worked with our customer to put a project plan in place. Such a plan requires action owners, and despite the fact that we have been in contact with each other over the past months, we realized that two of the team, one from our side, one from theirs, had the same names. In fact, we have multiple overlaps, so we tried to collectively find a way to differentiate.
It was a fun challenge to solve, and we had a couple of chuckles during the experience.
Right as that meeting was coming to a close, I received a text notification that my boxer order was out for delivery, and actually provided a time window for when I could expect it. A nice touch, but always a little bit tricky, kind of like when the cable guy (for those of us old enough to remember what that is) would come make a house call between 8am and 8pm. Nice.
But, I needed to go up the street to take advantage of the local vaccination place; I was due for a booster, and wanted to allow sufficient time for that. The delivery window came and went, and I decided to go get my injection. After all, it was not as I would urgently need to wear the boxers, not for another 2 years or so, anyway.
The booster experience was easy as you like, and I was quite impressed with the way the lady just distracted me with a conversation she was having with a colleague, about something I could not help but listen along to. Before I knew what had happened, I was finished.
Back home, I finished my work day, still waiting on the delivery guy. At 18h, I officially logged off my laptop and headed to the pub, as part of my Wednesday evening routine. For the next half an hour, I kept looking around at the traffic on the streets; I was trying to keep an eye for the delivery carrier, knowing that I could sprint home real quick and accept a package, if he happened to turn up.
The girls I was sitting with soon noticed how distracted as I was behaving; I was basically rubbernecking, trying to keep an eye on all the ways a courier could drive onto the street. I informed them of my situation, but elected to provide the details of the order. I just was expecting a package.
Sure enough, just past 19h, approximately 5 hours after my "delivery window" had closed, I saw the delivery van. I waited patiently for him to park, gather the packages he needed to deliver, then sort of followed him to my house door.
I had my ID at the ready, as I figured I would need to prove that I was the true recipient of the package, as opposed to some guy walking up to a delivery man on the street and saying, "hey, that is for me."
It worked out fine, I got my package, and returned to the pub for the evening.
Our servers were both new. One of the guys I was slightly familiar with, but I had forgotten his name. When we went through the introductions, it turned out that both guys had the same name, save for one letter. One is Luka, the other is Lukas.
Par for my week, on the confusing name thing. But, hey, my boxers are pretty cool.
See you out there
Bryan
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