Yes, I had one of those weeks where almost everything didn't go remotely like I had expected it to. And it almost proved to be just a wee bit too much...
Last Saturday morning, I woke up and switched on the espresso machine, like always. I then logged on to my laptop, but quickly found that there was no internet access. Thinking it was just a brief outage, I did some quick troubleshooting, including doing a reset of my router. I continued to wait for my coffee machine to warm up and kept an eye on the router, which has to go through a little reset process.
A few minutes later, coffee in hand, my router seemed stuck on the "connection to online" status; it could only get power and show it was operational in my house. But no service.
I thought back to the evening before when I had spoken via telephone with my father. He, too, had had internet problems, and they seemed hardware related. I considered the coincidence, but didn't feel too bent out of shape. After all, it was the weekend, and I had plenty of other things I could do that did not require online connectivity. I used the time wisely, and sat in my easy chair in my living room, simply enjoying the quiet Saturday morning and the fact that I was effectively not "connected."
Around noon, I still did not have any connectivity, and I was a little skeptical of my router. I had one router go bad on me a couple of years back, which prompted me to scurry across town on a busy shopping afternoon to purchase a replacement fritzbox. I hoped I would not have to do the same thing, but decided to continue waiting a little longer. Meanwhile, I glanced at one of my mobiles, the one that also has the same service provider as my internet, and noticed that the mobile had no service.
I deduced that this was indeed a Telekom problem. I still was not sure if it was just a Bryan Telekom problem or if the issue extended wider, but decided to just accept it and move on. If things were back on line by Monday morning (when I would definitely need internet access), I would deal with it then. Take it as it comes.
During the early afternoon, I went to the supermarket to pick up a few items, noticing a large handwritten sign right in the entrance to the store indicating that due to an internet outage, NO electronic payments (credit or debit card) were possible. This posed no problem to me, as I always use cash. I completed my shopping list, then stood in line with the other people waiting for checkout.
As per protocol, the cashier asked each person if they were going to be able to pay in cash, and I was a little surprised when the person looked shocked as they said, "Er, no, I was planning to pay with credit card."
From there, the cashier kind of said, "Didn't you see the sign smack in the front of the store that said we have no internet connection right now?" and the customer had to respond, "No, I did not see the sign."
Fortunately, said customer had enough cash to pay for their items.
This cycle repeated itself 3 more times (it was a busy Saturday), and each time, I got a little more surprised at just how many people had failed to see the sign in the one entrance to the supermarket that clearly indicated that cash payments were the only option that day. Furthermore, I was surprised at the reaction each customer had; they all seemed really irritated and insulted by the inconvenience.
When it came time for me to pay, I answered "Yes, I am paying with cash," and completed my checkout without any further fuss, then returned home to find that my internet was working again. Hooray!
I spoke briefly again with my father, who had managed to solve his own issue, and I told him about my morning without connectivity, then went on to enjoy the rest of my weekend.
Monday evening at the kiosk during a break in conversation topic, Ali asked me if I had experienced an internet outage at the weekend. Suddenly we all were discussing it, and it turns out that the entire neighborhood was out for all of Saturday morning. Mono had been somewhere else in the city for a few minutes, and had been able to ascertain that the outage would be restored by Saturday lunchtime, which is pretty much what happened.
What's funny about these things, is that when the whole community is without connectivity, it is not as if you can go on to the internet to try and find out about the outage. Likewise, there is no town crier who comes through and shouts to everyone that there will be no internet connectivity until 13h on Saturday.
Those of us who meet up on Kioskabend are all pretty logical; each of us had restarted our routers once (or twice), then said, "Whatever. We will wait for service to resume." Then, we all just got on with things.
On Tuesday evening, I went to catch my U-Bahn to get to an appointment in the city, and I started getting a little antsy when the train did not depart once all the passengers had gotten on. Instead, we sat for another 5 minutes, then another 5. I was standing in the very last car, as it was convenient for the stop where I would have to get off. From my vantage point, I could see all the people coming down the stairs to wait on the U-Bahn. (Ironically, the escalator was out of order). In these situations, when someone notices that a train is still waiting, they immediately make a mad dash to try and catch THAT train, instead of having to wait another 7 or 8 minutes for the next one.
Because of a 10 minute delay, this happened about 60 times, with various people casually walking down the steps, noticing the train car, putting on a hopeful facial expression as they suddenly leap off the last 3 steps and sprint a few steps to the train car.
Yes, I have done this countless times myself.
At any rate, the U-Bahn delay was going to result in me arriving late to my appointment, so I quickly phoned to apologize for my tardiness, and right then the U-Bahn Fahrer announced that we would have to EXIT the train, as it was no longer in service, due to a fault.
Well, the other passengers reacted as if this was the biggest inconvenience in the world. In fact, such events do happen with some regularity, and it's just one of those things. I did feel bad for inconveniencing the person I was going to meet. I actually wondered why I had not taken an earlier U-Bahn so as to guarantee that I would be punctual for my appointment, rather than take the one I had intended, which would have normally gotten me to my destination right on time.
A couple of minutes later, another U-Bahn arrived, and we were all a bit overcrowded on the train. I got to my appointment, apologized profusely, then upon completion, headed back to the U-Bahnt o return home.
3 stops from home, the train pulled into the station, but one of the automatic doors could not close all the way. It happened to be in the car I was in, so I watched as the driver had to come out of his little cabin and try to force the door closed. Meanwhile, I watched a few people walking down the steps, suddenly their eyes got wide as they immediately sprang for the waiting U-Bahn. ("Hurry Eunice, the train is still there! We can make it!")
After a few minutes of fiddling about, the driver finally force closed the door. He did this with a bit of elbow-grease. But, once he was back in his little driving cabin, he announced over the P.A. "Hey, everybody out, this U-Bahn is now out of order. Due to a technical fault."
Damn.
So, we all got out and waited for the next car, which arrived about 3 minutes later. I proceeded home and kind of chuckled. Again, a first for me: I have never had 2 consecutive trips on the U-Bahn cancelled for the same reason on the same day. But, take it as it comes. And live with it.
Earlier in the day, I had received some new sheet music, and I had already spent a couple of minutes sight-reading during my lunch break. With some dismay, I discovered that despite how simple the tunes sounded, particularly the bass part, my left hand was not cooperating. The music was quite a bit more technically challenging than I had initially anticipated. I realized that I would need to do some exercises to strengthen my left hand. I did not feel annoyed, but rather challenged. After all, this is something I can influence myself. Furthermore, music is EASY, it just may be unfamiliar.
When we used to stand around and kick the hacky-sack in college, Pablo would always make a reference to a Daniel Day Lewis movie when he was unable to complete a kick or touch with his left foot; those readers with a strong familiarity with the sport can easily understand. We tend to use our dominate hands and feet whenever possible, and sometimes the lack of coordination is noticeable in the less capable hand or foot.
As I went about my business on Tuesday evening, I reflected on my week so far. Yes, I had experienced several instances where things were out of order, but for the most, order had been somewhat restored without too many headaches.
Then came Wednesday. I got a call from my boss, who asked me to consider making a decision that would have a negative impact on my livelihood. This brought the week of out of order to a whole new level, one with a different type of meaning. I won't go through too many of the details of the request, but I will say that I felt hurt, insulted, and dismayed. I felt like I had been kicked in the gut once again, and it really wiped me out.
Wednesday was pretty much a write off as days go. I managed to find a small important high point by wishing young Pablo a happy birthday where I celebrated simply by picking up my dry cleaning from the shop down the street. To help put things in context, the little bell that they have the counter of the cleaner's wasn't working, so I had to actually shout and try to announce myself to the woman who was in the back operating the noisy laundry equipment.
That night, I just sat on the couch in bewilderment. I was angry, confused, frustrated, and just felt sick to my stomach. I did not want to leave the house, so just stared at some program on television until I fell asleep.
For the next couple of days, I did not sleep well, did not feel well, as I deliberated on how I was going to answer my boss's request. I was not really feeling much better Thursday evening, but I trudged over to the pub and had a little chat with a couple of friends. It helped to discuss things, and I was somewhat thankful that my friends were supportive and thoughtful. They recognized that I was in a really shitty situation. Things were definitely out of order.
As the evening progressed, I did reflect on the conversations I had already had, with my father, my friends, a few other Kumpels, and with myself.
I did not sleep any better Thursday night, and I woke up really feeling in a dark mood Friday morning. By this time, I had made my decision, but was not looking forward to giving my answer to my boss. During the course of the work day, I had a couple of chats with some colleagues, and I got the impression that they were in similar predicaments, and feeling just as lousy as I was.
As we neared the end of the work day, I hoped desperately to have another chat with my father, but he was offline and doing other things. Finally, just before Feierabend, I informed my boss of my decision, and had to deal with the fact that he wanted to know my reasoning or reasons behind my decision. I elected not to share those details (again feeling a bit put out that the question was even raised) but I did reveal how lousy I had been feeling for the past 48 hours.
At the close of our conversation, I was on OK terms with my boss, and we actually shared a couple of jokes. That sort of helped my mood, as did the fact that I had at least brought some closure to the topic. From there, I will have to live with any consequences or whatever else might happen, but at least I can be proud of me for making my decision and believing in my decision. I felt a little bit of emotional release as I decided also NOT to spend or waste time second guessing, but instead, getting on with things.
I felt like I just wanted to be by myself in a dark room, but I told myself that first, I would go have a couple of beers at the pub, as quietly as possible.
As I walked the few steps to the pub, my mobile alerted me to a text from a friend of mine who had just gotten in to town, and did I want to meet up. I quickly texted back that I was just entering the pub and would be around for a couple of beers, but would definitely be having an early night.
A few minutes later, she walked into the pub, and we greeted each other. I had just gotten through updating Mono on the past 24 hours (we had spoken the previous evening, so he knew what was on my mind), but then got to give Susie the full story from start to finish.
And, it really helped to share the experience, particularly since it was a thing of the (recent) past.
Discussing the whole thing one more time was actually helpful in the "restoring order" part of the process. I felt reassured that I had conducted the right (for me) decision making steps, and I felt better as we wrapped things up for an early evening.
I was still feeling absolutely wiped out, as one understandably would feel after having gone through such an emotional period. I just wanted to cook a little dinner and collapse on the couch, which is exactly what I did.
Saturday morning I felt a bit more rested, but opted for a rather quiet day. I actually made some impressive progressive with my left hand on the new music, and my mood improved as I got to speak again with my father, and later on with my sister. Of course, during our weekly conversations (usually every Saturday), my sister and I take turns answering the question, "How was your week?" so yesterday I did have relate the whole experience one more time, but again, it was okay.
No one likes to be put into an unpleasant situation, and I don't think anyone looks forward to dilemmas that put so much emotional strain on a person, but we have all been there. My boss didn't like being put into the position to have ask me the question in the first place. And my left hand was not overly thrilled to be pushed into an uncomfortable position earlier in the week.
But again, and I cannot stress this enough, it's about effortless mastery for me. This week proved that there was an element of effort required, but through it all, I managed to contribute to restoring order.
What happens tomorrow or the day after is something that I will simply deal with when the time comes. I am reasonably sure that it is going to be exciting.
see you out there
bryan
Sunday, October 20, 2019
Sunday, October 13, 2019
A Sunny Week of Rain
This new project I am involved with at work brings a lot of excitement, expectation, and energy, and a whole lot of stress. All of this comes really as no surprise; I commented a few weeks ago that I had anticipated this, and I would even go so far as to say that I embrace it. True, I am still feeling a little out of practice with the overall pace of things. Additionally, getting comfortable with all of the communication and cultural styles is still very unfamiliar to me. For example, I had not counted on my customer expecting me to micromanage our repair partner, and I absolutely had not counted on my customer micromanaging me micromanaging the partner. This seems ludicrous to me.
As a result, I notice myself getting a little more wound up more frequently than I would like. And, when there is a brief break in the action, the fatigue hits and I tend to feel wiped out.
The other week during my visit to Budapest, my customer informed me that they were sending a representative to my German partner for 15 days. 15 DAYS!?!? Normally a supplier visit should last no longer than 2-3 days, so 15 days was about 2 1/2 weeks too long. Fortunately I was able to help the customer understand that maximum 4 days would be sufficient, on condition that the customer clearly indicate their agenda. The whole email exchange I had with the customer on this topic was exhausting enough; I could only wonder how the actual visit to the partner would be.
It was challenging enough to get the customer to provide their travel plans (which would then allow me to coordinate the visit with the partner), but on the 1st of October, I finally got my hotel booked in Flensburg. I would have to travel on a Sunday, then return the following Friday.
The first week of October includes a German public holiday, which this year fell on Thursday. I was relieved to have the 4 day work week, especially since I knew I would have the following weekend cut short. I did not intend to stay out so late on the night before the holiday, but it was one of those special nights when all the stars align. I kept bumping into friends I had not seen in awhile, and spent the whole evening really enjoying myself. When I did get to bed, I winced as I looked at the clock: 3:30am. But only slightly.
Fortunately, I had Thursday for a recovery day, then back to work on Friday. Friday evening, I met up with a couple of friends for dinner, and again, had an enjoyable evening.
Then, the anxiousness crept back in. I felt a little tense as I prepared for my week in Flensburg. I resented having to travel on a Sunday, but I pretended that it would be like a little holiday. This little jedi-mind trick worked for about 5 seconds until I remembered that there would a customer in tow for the entire week. But, I opened my mind and reminded myself to simply accept whatever would happen.
I caught a mid-day train from Frankfurt to Hamburg, which was really poor planning on my part. The train was full of Sunday travelers, and even more so because of the autumn school break. Lots of families were on board with younger travelers. Thus, no seat reservations were available, and I put all my hopes in grabbing a seat in the restaurant car of the train. Turns out, a lot of other people had this same idea, so I eventually found myself standing at the other end of restaurant car in the snack bar area, which only provides a few little places to stand at.
Of course I was slightly overdressed, as I was anticipating the weather in the north of Germany. In a crowded railway car, I started sweating, which did not help my mood.
30 minutes outside of the city, the conductor came on to the PA system and asked if any doctors on board could urgently come to car number 5 to help attend to a passenger who had fallen ill. I must say I was rather impressed to see about 4 people scurry through the snack area on their way to the other end of the train (car 5); I really appreciate witnessing people's willingness to help others in need.
Well, the ailing passenger did need additional treatment, so the train made an unscheduled stop at the next station. Here, we waited for about 40 minutes as the ambulance people collected the passenger and went to hospital. I have experienced many things in my years of traveling with Deutsche Bahn, but this was the first time for something like this.
We were scheduled to arrive in Hamburg around 17h, which would have been sufficient time for me to visit the lavatory and grab a snack before taking the regional train from Hamburg on to Flensburg, a further 2 hours to the north. With the delay we had experienced, we were now going to be pulling into Hamburg about 90 seconds before my connecting train would depart. This is one of the disadvantages to railway travel (or airplane travel, for that matter), but I am usually okay with the delay. I know from experience never to schedule any important event (or meeting) so close to my travel arrangement, preferring instead to create as big a buffer as possible. (Hence the reason I was traveling on a Sunday, so as to be able to meet with the customer on a Monday, AFTER a night's rest.)
What this particular delay meant, however, is that I would have to use the toilet on the train, and normally I tend to exclude the train lavatories from my list of safe havens. To be fair, the facilities on the ICE trains are quite superior to those on the regional trains, but there is one little point I always dread: the sliding door to the facility. Over the years, I have had the door mysteriously slide open during my activity, and I am rather helpless to do anything about it. My father has encountered the same situation multiple times during his visits to Germany, most recently on our trip to Vienna. (On that particular occasion he waited until we were eating dinner before telling me of his adventure earlier on the train when we were pulling into a particular station, where he ended up giving a show to all the passengers who were waiting to leave the train.)
So, I like to avoid these situations whenever possible. But, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
I cannot express how relieved I was to find that in this particular train, the sliding toilet door had a seemingly secure latch that would ensure that I could have an undisturbed moment. Despite the secure latch, I was still rather terrified that it would magically unlock itself and the door would slide open. (What's behind door number 3, Monty?)
Personal business seen to, I prepared myself for the train's arrival to Hamburg, and tried to calculate how many people I would have to hurdle when scurrying from platform 14 to 11, which requires one to go up a flight of stairs, cross the terminal to the appropriate track, then go back downstairs to the actual train platform.
The train itself finished service service in Hamburg, so everyone has to get off. Most of the time, everyone has to get a connecting train, so in short, everyone is in the same situation; pressed for time and in danger of missing their connection.
Anyone who has experienced the race through a train station or an airport to catch their connection knows that it is exhilarating only if you actually make the connection. Otherwise, it just sucks.
Sometimes I don't even make the effort to try to catch the connection, knowing that I can simply wait for a few minutes and catch the next train. However, the train from Hamburg to Flensburg runs every hour, and it's a two hour ride. I wanted to make this connection.
And I did. Barely.
With seconds to spare, I found myself at one end of the regional train in the car reserved for people with bicycles and other bulky things. Luckily, I did manage to find a jump seat that I could sit in. Again, the train was rather full of passengers, not a huge surprise as it was the local means for people who live outside of Hamburg to go back home after a day out in the city.
I closed my eyes for a moment to try and relax myself, then was startled awake as a group of what seemed to be one or two families crowded into the seats next to me. They had a few small children with them, which meant they had two bulky strollers, and because of the energy that kids have, it was not easy for them to get settled. Instead, the kids bounced around and excitedly ran around in the train car.
In total, the group amounted to about 10 people, which was confirmed when they presented their tickets to the conductor. Deutsche Bahn has something called the Happy Weekend Ticket, which enables a group of up to 5 people to travel on the regional train for a really really low price, something like 30 euro. It is very practical, and I have used such ticket myself. (For comparison purposes, my own ticket cost about the same as their ticket for a group of 5)
At any rate, I casually observed the group, who were chatting mostly in Arabic, but from time to time I heard a bit of German. The kids were energetic and cute. Due to the ages of the travelers, I could not quite figure out who was an older brother or sister, who was an uncle or aunt, or which kids belonged to which families. I like to people watch, so spent most of the journey being entertained by the two families. One group got off in a town about an hour outside of Hamburg, and the other family continued on with me to the final stop of Flensburg. I got to help out from time to time to collect the pacifier off the ground; one of the kids kept throwing it gleefully.
It was already 19h30 by the time we got to Flensburg, and I was really looking forward to getting to the hotel. One of the guys at my repair partner had booked me into a rather nice hotel that was reasonably priced. It also had an extremely nice restaurant that my colleague had raved about, so I was hoping for a good experience.
Well, the hotel was awesome. It's right on the waterfront of the harbor in Flensburg, and has sort of a maritime theme. For example, instead of having a check-in and check-out date, I had an embark and disembark date. The guy at the reception desk did not actually greet me with an "ahoy" but I could tell that he thought about it.
It had been a long day, particularly as I had stood for the 4 hour train journey to Hamburg, so I quickly unpacked, then went back downstairs to the restaurant, having noted that my hotel room was really really nice. The restaurant was also impressive, and I was treated to exceptional service from the young, professional waitstaff.
I had checked out the hotel website prior to my arrival so was already aware that the restaurant prices were going to be a little more expensive than my normal eating out experiences tend to be. I decided on a nice starter, then went with the chef's suggestion of a main dish, and I was duly satisfied with the experience. I enjoyed a nice after dinner espresso, then settled the bill against my room, then went upstairs to relax and fall asleep. The coming week was going to be intense.
Since Flensburg is right on the water, the weather tends to be a little interesting. The temperatures were certainly cooler than in Frankfurt, and I was glad that Sunday evening and Monday morning had no rain. I ate breakfast in the hotel, then did work from my room until midday, before heading over to visit the repair partner. We needed to strategize in advance of the arrival of our customer the following morning.
I was still feeling a little resentful because I had had to travel on a Sunday, so as to be ready for a Monday morning customer visit onsite at the partner. During the previous week at somewhat late notice, I discovered that the customer would in fact arrive Monday evening, to be on site from Tuesday through Friday. As I had already booked my hotel (noncancelable) for the Sunday evening, I had to travel the day earlier. Furthermore, I never like Monday morning visits, as it is unfair to a repair partner who needs sufficient time to get the working week started operationally. This is why I didn't try to get over to see them until the Monday afternoon.)
My afternoon visit was productive enough. At least we thought we would be ready for the customer to be on site with us the following morning. I did not stay any longer than necessary, so returned to my hotel shortly before 17h. I took a little walk around the water front, then headed back to the hotel restaurant for dinner.
I had already explored and was enjoying my accommodations. In fact, I was treating the whole experience as a little holiday for myself, albeit a working holiday. The hotel is rather new and has modern fixtures. Thus, it had one of those awesome rain shower shower heads, where you can stand there and just have lovely water come down on you. (I am never sure why we all love these rain shower heads in our bathrooms, but always hate to go outside when it is raining...)
The way our company handles the travel expenses is kind of the norm for German companies. You receive a daily food allowance that has no bearing on where you actually eat. I already knew that the daily allowance would not come close to covering the meals I would be enjoying in the hotel restaurant, but I did not care. I was on vacation.
Monday evening one of the waitstaff greeted me, recognizing that I had been a guest the previous evening. This time, I chose a different starter and entree. Again, I was really impressed. The restaurant was busy, but not full. Thus, I had time to sit with my book, relax, and eventually I found myself lost in thought. I was thinking about the next few days with the customer, but I also allowed my thoughts to wander freely.
Sometimes when I am traveling on my own, especially if I am eating alone in a restaurant, I imagine myself as a restaurant critic, perhaps an eccentric one. If the restaurant is particularly nice, like the one in the hotel, I pay closer attention to the presentation and the overall experience. So, that Monday evening I took extra interest in my entree of roast chicken breast with a beet medley. (the German translation is more eloquent). I counted about 5 different types of beet, which was surprising in its own right, based on my inexperience with the particular vegetable.
The food was really good, but I was also impressed by the waitstaff. Everyone was quite young, but always smiling and professional. Sure, there was a head waiter (or waitress) who seemed to help direct traffic, but overall I was amazed that the kids held their own, showing attentiveness and knowledge that was beyond their years. Earlier, I had been outside side in the courtyard on the rear of the hotel and had seen some of the staff arriving for the dinnertime service. They were dressed in hoodies and sneakers, and on any given day if you met any of them out and about, you would assume that they were on their way to (or coming from) a skate park.
I tend to try not to judge people too often, but like everyone, I may develop my own biases, based on my experiences. The folks that work in my local pub are of similar age, similar dress, but unfortunately several of them don't exhibit the same level of professional effort while on the job. I took a moment to reflect on my own experiences working as a teenager, back in 1988. I was just as much of a dipshit then as I am now, but there was always a certain amount of flair. And not least of all, I did take the job seriously, and this is what impressed me about the hotel restaurant staff. During their breaks or personal time, they might have been just as inclined to surf grocery carts in the parking lot (as I did with Whitman years ago on the way back inside to Albertson's) or do whatever, but still maintain their professional attitude.
A third beer was in order for the evening, and I continued to sit and reflect. I found myself reminiscing of other events from 1988, including a few interesting drives around the city in the Nugget, and countless hours spent at Bill's records and tapes. After all, allowing the mind to wander freely is a nice thing to do while on vacation.
Tuesday started with buckets of rain, typical for Flensburg. I got a taxi to the repair partner, and met our customer, a young woman who had been tasked by her boss to spend the next several days with us on site discussing the repair operations. As expected, the day was stressful and chaotic. I found myself feeling really frustrated with the customer, and noticed my colleague from the repair partner showing similar signs of strain. I think we were both rather pleased when the customer announced that she wanted to return to her hotel for the evening, thus relieving us from any obligation to do the "wining and dining" crap that sometimes happens on these kind of trips.
This effectively gave my colleague and me freedom to head off to a local favorite restaurant, where we focused on enjoying our beers and the chat more than anything else. I have know this particular repair partner for several years, but I needed some one on one time with my direct counterpart so as to get to know him better outside of work. We had a great evening, and were able to laugh together about the absurdities we were experiencing with a customer who was intent on micromanaging me and the repair partner.
The colleague and myself are similar in age, and we certainly have quite a bit more experience than our customer, but in these situations, we always have to respect that we have a customer. This means that we have to find ways to communicate and accommodate each other. Most people know that I do not subscribe to the "Customer is always right" philosophy, but I never forget that we have a customer.
This alone creates a shitload of stress, since I usually find myself having to work harder (and less efficiently) with customers who might have unreasonable requests. I often struggle in such situations, particularly when it seems that the customer is unwilling to look for any flexibility or compromise. A specific example happened during the course of the week with said customer, who seems hell bent on doing things manually, despite my best efforts to demonstrate why using the system to drive a solution that will result in a fewer opportunities for human error.
It's enough to drive you bat shit.
Wednesday and Thursday were pretty much repeats of our Tuesday work day. The days were long and frustrating, but I learned from the experience and made the most of things. I learned how I can better communicate with the customer, and also with my repair partner. Fortunately, I was able to take a nice shower in a rainstorm each morning, and enjoyed a couple more lovely meals in the hotel's restaurant. During the course of the week, the waitstaff got used to me spending a couple of hours each evening in the restaurant, graciously enjoying time to myself.
My head was full of some many thoughts, so even though my hotel room was cozy and comfortable, I did not sleep as restfully as I wanted. By Thursday, I was really looking forward to the journey back to Frankfurt, just in time for the weekend. Finally a chance to rest.
Each day was full of rain and sun, as seems to be the norm in Flensburg. Two days in a row I woke up with nice sunlight in my hotel room, and as I peered out the window to the rear courtyard, I kept thinking, "hey, that's really cool that they have a big fountain that makes it look like it is raining outside."
Then, when I actually looked more closely, I realized that it was raining heavily, even though the sun was shining brightly. I loved it.
That Thursday evening, after I had concluded the business trip with the partner and the customer, I taxied back to the harbor, then stopped off at a little shop to buy cigarettes and a couple of bottles of water; this had been my little routine during the week. As I paid for my items, I chatted with the shop lady, who asked where I came from. This prompted us to have a little discussion about the German language and my accent, partially influenced by where I live in a different region of Germany, and partially because I simply have an accent.
It made for an interesting conversation, and just added on to the experience of the week. A few days prior, I had been standing outside the hotel where another couple were having a chat. I couldn't help but overhear them, but quickly realized that I was not fully understanding what they were saying in German. I was not trying to deliberately follow the conversation, but found myself a little mystified that I couldn't fully understand the dialect.
When the penny dropped and I realized that they were actually speaking Danish, I figured it was time to head back home to Frankfurt.
The Friday morning, I elected to take a mid-morning train back to Hamburg, so enjoyed the breakfast buffet and a couple of espressos before checking out of the hotel. I was a little sorry to leave, as the hotel and meal experience had been so nice. That being said, I was exhausted from the intensity of the week, and was more than ready to go back home.
I found a seat on the regional train, which begins its run from Flensburg. This was particularly important because two stops later (10 stops between Flensburg and Hamburg), about 20 teenagers got on the train, all with overnight bags. The train had already filled up quickly, and regional trains don't have reservations. Sometimes the trains can be overflowing with passengers, and other times they can be almost empty. Having a seat is always a bonus.
We arrived to Hamburg on time, and once again I was reminded of just how chaotic that train station is. I had 45 minutes before my connecting high speed departed for Frankfurt, so, as always, I located the little boys room, but kind of wished I hadn't. Still, it was likely going to be better than the train facilities, even if the doors latched properly.
My Frankfurt train left promptly at 13h, and I luckily found a seat in the restaurant car. I got a little work done over the next four hours, and felt fairly relaxed. Another passenger and I had a little chitchat during the last hour of our journey, which made for a nice way to complete the travel.
Once we reached Frankfurt, I grabbed the next U-Bahn to my neighborhood, and by 17h30 was unpacking my suitcase and just feeling delighted to be home. The week had been long, stressful, but for the most part productive.
I managed to have a skype call with my father for 45 minutes, something I had missed during the week. We normally chat every couple of days, but with me being on the business trip, that was not possible.
By just past 19h, I walked into the pub, glad to be back in normal routine. I greeted some friends that I hadn't seen for the past week, and enjoyed the comforts that a Friday night in the pub always bring. The week was catching up with me, and I felt really tired, but stayed a little longer in the pub with a couple of friends before finally heading home to my own bed.
The chilly rainy weather (mixed with moments of sunshine) in Flensburg is in the past. Frankfurt has had mild temperatures through the weekend, and it is pleasant enough.
In fact, it's time to finish this post and get outside and enjoy the weather. Monday will come soon enough.
see you out there
bryan
As a result, I notice myself getting a little more wound up more frequently than I would like. And, when there is a brief break in the action, the fatigue hits and I tend to feel wiped out.
The other week during my visit to Budapest, my customer informed me that they were sending a representative to my German partner for 15 days. 15 DAYS!?!? Normally a supplier visit should last no longer than 2-3 days, so 15 days was about 2 1/2 weeks too long. Fortunately I was able to help the customer understand that maximum 4 days would be sufficient, on condition that the customer clearly indicate their agenda. The whole email exchange I had with the customer on this topic was exhausting enough; I could only wonder how the actual visit to the partner would be.
It was challenging enough to get the customer to provide their travel plans (which would then allow me to coordinate the visit with the partner), but on the 1st of October, I finally got my hotel booked in Flensburg. I would have to travel on a Sunday, then return the following Friday.
The first week of October includes a German public holiday, which this year fell on Thursday. I was relieved to have the 4 day work week, especially since I knew I would have the following weekend cut short. I did not intend to stay out so late on the night before the holiday, but it was one of those special nights when all the stars align. I kept bumping into friends I had not seen in awhile, and spent the whole evening really enjoying myself. When I did get to bed, I winced as I looked at the clock: 3:30am. But only slightly.
Fortunately, I had Thursday for a recovery day, then back to work on Friday. Friday evening, I met up with a couple of friends for dinner, and again, had an enjoyable evening.
Then, the anxiousness crept back in. I felt a little tense as I prepared for my week in Flensburg. I resented having to travel on a Sunday, but I pretended that it would be like a little holiday. This little jedi-mind trick worked for about 5 seconds until I remembered that there would a customer in tow for the entire week. But, I opened my mind and reminded myself to simply accept whatever would happen.
I caught a mid-day train from Frankfurt to Hamburg, which was really poor planning on my part. The train was full of Sunday travelers, and even more so because of the autumn school break. Lots of families were on board with younger travelers. Thus, no seat reservations were available, and I put all my hopes in grabbing a seat in the restaurant car of the train. Turns out, a lot of other people had this same idea, so I eventually found myself standing at the other end of restaurant car in the snack bar area, which only provides a few little places to stand at.
Of course I was slightly overdressed, as I was anticipating the weather in the north of Germany. In a crowded railway car, I started sweating, which did not help my mood.
30 minutes outside of the city, the conductor came on to the PA system and asked if any doctors on board could urgently come to car number 5 to help attend to a passenger who had fallen ill. I must say I was rather impressed to see about 4 people scurry through the snack area on their way to the other end of the train (car 5); I really appreciate witnessing people's willingness to help others in need.
Well, the ailing passenger did need additional treatment, so the train made an unscheduled stop at the next station. Here, we waited for about 40 minutes as the ambulance people collected the passenger and went to hospital. I have experienced many things in my years of traveling with Deutsche Bahn, but this was the first time for something like this.
We were scheduled to arrive in Hamburg around 17h, which would have been sufficient time for me to visit the lavatory and grab a snack before taking the regional train from Hamburg on to Flensburg, a further 2 hours to the north. With the delay we had experienced, we were now going to be pulling into Hamburg about 90 seconds before my connecting train would depart. This is one of the disadvantages to railway travel (or airplane travel, for that matter), but I am usually okay with the delay. I know from experience never to schedule any important event (or meeting) so close to my travel arrangement, preferring instead to create as big a buffer as possible. (Hence the reason I was traveling on a Sunday, so as to be able to meet with the customer on a Monday, AFTER a night's rest.)
What this particular delay meant, however, is that I would have to use the toilet on the train, and normally I tend to exclude the train lavatories from my list of safe havens. To be fair, the facilities on the ICE trains are quite superior to those on the regional trains, but there is one little point I always dread: the sliding door to the facility. Over the years, I have had the door mysteriously slide open during my activity, and I am rather helpless to do anything about it. My father has encountered the same situation multiple times during his visits to Germany, most recently on our trip to Vienna. (On that particular occasion he waited until we were eating dinner before telling me of his adventure earlier on the train when we were pulling into a particular station, where he ended up giving a show to all the passengers who were waiting to leave the train.)
So, I like to avoid these situations whenever possible. But, when you gotta go, you gotta go.
I cannot express how relieved I was to find that in this particular train, the sliding toilet door had a seemingly secure latch that would ensure that I could have an undisturbed moment. Despite the secure latch, I was still rather terrified that it would magically unlock itself and the door would slide open. (What's behind door number 3, Monty?)
Personal business seen to, I prepared myself for the train's arrival to Hamburg, and tried to calculate how many people I would have to hurdle when scurrying from platform 14 to 11, which requires one to go up a flight of stairs, cross the terminal to the appropriate track, then go back downstairs to the actual train platform.
The train itself finished service service in Hamburg, so everyone has to get off. Most of the time, everyone has to get a connecting train, so in short, everyone is in the same situation; pressed for time and in danger of missing their connection.
Anyone who has experienced the race through a train station or an airport to catch their connection knows that it is exhilarating only if you actually make the connection. Otherwise, it just sucks.
Sometimes I don't even make the effort to try to catch the connection, knowing that I can simply wait for a few minutes and catch the next train. However, the train from Hamburg to Flensburg runs every hour, and it's a two hour ride. I wanted to make this connection.
And I did. Barely.
With seconds to spare, I found myself at one end of the regional train in the car reserved for people with bicycles and other bulky things. Luckily, I did manage to find a jump seat that I could sit in. Again, the train was rather full of passengers, not a huge surprise as it was the local means for people who live outside of Hamburg to go back home after a day out in the city.
I closed my eyes for a moment to try and relax myself, then was startled awake as a group of what seemed to be one or two families crowded into the seats next to me. They had a few small children with them, which meant they had two bulky strollers, and because of the energy that kids have, it was not easy for them to get settled. Instead, the kids bounced around and excitedly ran around in the train car.
In total, the group amounted to about 10 people, which was confirmed when they presented their tickets to the conductor. Deutsche Bahn has something called the Happy Weekend Ticket, which enables a group of up to 5 people to travel on the regional train for a really really low price, something like 30 euro. It is very practical, and I have used such ticket myself. (For comparison purposes, my own ticket cost about the same as their ticket for a group of 5)
At any rate, I casually observed the group, who were chatting mostly in Arabic, but from time to time I heard a bit of German. The kids were energetic and cute. Due to the ages of the travelers, I could not quite figure out who was an older brother or sister, who was an uncle or aunt, or which kids belonged to which families. I like to people watch, so spent most of the journey being entertained by the two families. One group got off in a town about an hour outside of Hamburg, and the other family continued on with me to the final stop of Flensburg. I got to help out from time to time to collect the pacifier off the ground; one of the kids kept throwing it gleefully.
It was already 19h30 by the time we got to Flensburg, and I was really looking forward to getting to the hotel. One of the guys at my repair partner had booked me into a rather nice hotel that was reasonably priced. It also had an extremely nice restaurant that my colleague had raved about, so I was hoping for a good experience.
Well, the hotel was awesome. It's right on the waterfront of the harbor in Flensburg, and has sort of a maritime theme. For example, instead of having a check-in and check-out date, I had an embark and disembark date. The guy at the reception desk did not actually greet me with an "ahoy" but I could tell that he thought about it.
It had been a long day, particularly as I had stood for the 4 hour train journey to Hamburg, so I quickly unpacked, then went back downstairs to the restaurant, having noted that my hotel room was really really nice. The restaurant was also impressive, and I was treated to exceptional service from the young, professional waitstaff.
I had checked out the hotel website prior to my arrival so was already aware that the restaurant prices were going to be a little more expensive than my normal eating out experiences tend to be. I decided on a nice starter, then went with the chef's suggestion of a main dish, and I was duly satisfied with the experience. I enjoyed a nice after dinner espresso, then settled the bill against my room, then went upstairs to relax and fall asleep. The coming week was going to be intense.
Since Flensburg is right on the water, the weather tends to be a little interesting. The temperatures were certainly cooler than in Frankfurt, and I was glad that Sunday evening and Monday morning had no rain. I ate breakfast in the hotel, then did work from my room until midday, before heading over to visit the repair partner. We needed to strategize in advance of the arrival of our customer the following morning.
I was still feeling a little resentful because I had had to travel on a Sunday, so as to be ready for a Monday morning customer visit onsite at the partner. During the previous week at somewhat late notice, I discovered that the customer would in fact arrive Monday evening, to be on site from Tuesday through Friday. As I had already booked my hotel (noncancelable) for the Sunday evening, I had to travel the day earlier. Furthermore, I never like Monday morning visits, as it is unfair to a repair partner who needs sufficient time to get the working week started operationally. This is why I didn't try to get over to see them until the Monday afternoon.)
My afternoon visit was productive enough. At least we thought we would be ready for the customer to be on site with us the following morning. I did not stay any longer than necessary, so returned to my hotel shortly before 17h. I took a little walk around the water front, then headed back to the hotel restaurant for dinner.
I had already explored and was enjoying my accommodations. In fact, I was treating the whole experience as a little holiday for myself, albeit a working holiday. The hotel is rather new and has modern fixtures. Thus, it had one of those awesome rain shower shower heads, where you can stand there and just have lovely water come down on you. (I am never sure why we all love these rain shower heads in our bathrooms, but always hate to go outside when it is raining...)
The way our company handles the travel expenses is kind of the norm for German companies. You receive a daily food allowance that has no bearing on where you actually eat. I already knew that the daily allowance would not come close to covering the meals I would be enjoying in the hotel restaurant, but I did not care. I was on vacation.
Monday evening one of the waitstaff greeted me, recognizing that I had been a guest the previous evening. This time, I chose a different starter and entree. Again, I was really impressed. The restaurant was busy, but not full. Thus, I had time to sit with my book, relax, and eventually I found myself lost in thought. I was thinking about the next few days with the customer, but I also allowed my thoughts to wander freely.
Sometimes when I am traveling on my own, especially if I am eating alone in a restaurant, I imagine myself as a restaurant critic, perhaps an eccentric one. If the restaurant is particularly nice, like the one in the hotel, I pay closer attention to the presentation and the overall experience. So, that Monday evening I took extra interest in my entree of roast chicken breast with a beet medley. (the German translation is more eloquent). I counted about 5 different types of beet, which was surprising in its own right, based on my inexperience with the particular vegetable.
The food was really good, but I was also impressed by the waitstaff. Everyone was quite young, but always smiling and professional. Sure, there was a head waiter (or waitress) who seemed to help direct traffic, but overall I was amazed that the kids held their own, showing attentiveness and knowledge that was beyond their years. Earlier, I had been outside side in the courtyard on the rear of the hotel and had seen some of the staff arriving for the dinnertime service. They were dressed in hoodies and sneakers, and on any given day if you met any of them out and about, you would assume that they were on their way to (or coming from) a skate park.
I tend to try not to judge people too often, but like everyone, I may develop my own biases, based on my experiences. The folks that work in my local pub are of similar age, similar dress, but unfortunately several of them don't exhibit the same level of professional effort while on the job. I took a moment to reflect on my own experiences working as a teenager, back in 1988. I was just as much of a dipshit then as I am now, but there was always a certain amount of flair. And not least of all, I did take the job seriously, and this is what impressed me about the hotel restaurant staff. During their breaks or personal time, they might have been just as inclined to surf grocery carts in the parking lot (as I did with Whitman years ago on the way back inside to Albertson's) or do whatever, but still maintain their professional attitude.
A third beer was in order for the evening, and I continued to sit and reflect. I found myself reminiscing of other events from 1988, including a few interesting drives around the city in the Nugget, and countless hours spent at Bill's records and tapes. After all, allowing the mind to wander freely is a nice thing to do while on vacation.
Tuesday started with buckets of rain, typical for Flensburg. I got a taxi to the repair partner, and met our customer, a young woman who had been tasked by her boss to spend the next several days with us on site discussing the repair operations. As expected, the day was stressful and chaotic. I found myself feeling really frustrated with the customer, and noticed my colleague from the repair partner showing similar signs of strain. I think we were both rather pleased when the customer announced that she wanted to return to her hotel for the evening, thus relieving us from any obligation to do the "wining and dining" crap that sometimes happens on these kind of trips.
This effectively gave my colleague and me freedom to head off to a local favorite restaurant, where we focused on enjoying our beers and the chat more than anything else. I have know this particular repair partner for several years, but I needed some one on one time with my direct counterpart so as to get to know him better outside of work. We had a great evening, and were able to laugh together about the absurdities we were experiencing with a customer who was intent on micromanaging me and the repair partner.
The colleague and myself are similar in age, and we certainly have quite a bit more experience than our customer, but in these situations, we always have to respect that we have a customer. This means that we have to find ways to communicate and accommodate each other. Most people know that I do not subscribe to the "Customer is always right" philosophy, but I never forget that we have a customer.
This alone creates a shitload of stress, since I usually find myself having to work harder (and less efficiently) with customers who might have unreasonable requests. I often struggle in such situations, particularly when it seems that the customer is unwilling to look for any flexibility or compromise. A specific example happened during the course of the week with said customer, who seems hell bent on doing things manually, despite my best efforts to demonstrate why using the system to drive a solution that will result in a fewer opportunities for human error.
It's enough to drive you bat shit.
Wednesday and Thursday were pretty much repeats of our Tuesday work day. The days were long and frustrating, but I learned from the experience and made the most of things. I learned how I can better communicate with the customer, and also with my repair partner. Fortunately, I was able to take a nice shower in a rainstorm each morning, and enjoyed a couple more lovely meals in the hotel's restaurant. During the course of the week, the waitstaff got used to me spending a couple of hours each evening in the restaurant, graciously enjoying time to myself.
My head was full of some many thoughts, so even though my hotel room was cozy and comfortable, I did not sleep as restfully as I wanted. By Thursday, I was really looking forward to the journey back to Frankfurt, just in time for the weekend. Finally a chance to rest.
Each day was full of rain and sun, as seems to be the norm in Flensburg. Two days in a row I woke up with nice sunlight in my hotel room, and as I peered out the window to the rear courtyard, I kept thinking, "hey, that's really cool that they have a big fountain that makes it look like it is raining outside."
Then, when I actually looked more closely, I realized that it was raining heavily, even though the sun was shining brightly. I loved it.
That Thursday evening, after I had concluded the business trip with the partner and the customer, I taxied back to the harbor, then stopped off at a little shop to buy cigarettes and a couple of bottles of water; this had been my little routine during the week. As I paid for my items, I chatted with the shop lady, who asked where I came from. This prompted us to have a little discussion about the German language and my accent, partially influenced by where I live in a different region of Germany, and partially because I simply have an accent.
It made for an interesting conversation, and just added on to the experience of the week. A few days prior, I had been standing outside the hotel where another couple were having a chat. I couldn't help but overhear them, but quickly realized that I was not fully understanding what they were saying in German. I was not trying to deliberately follow the conversation, but found myself a little mystified that I couldn't fully understand the dialect.
When the penny dropped and I realized that they were actually speaking Danish, I figured it was time to head back home to Frankfurt.
The Friday morning, I elected to take a mid-morning train back to Hamburg, so enjoyed the breakfast buffet and a couple of espressos before checking out of the hotel. I was a little sorry to leave, as the hotel and meal experience had been so nice. That being said, I was exhausted from the intensity of the week, and was more than ready to go back home.
I found a seat on the regional train, which begins its run from Flensburg. This was particularly important because two stops later (10 stops between Flensburg and Hamburg), about 20 teenagers got on the train, all with overnight bags. The train had already filled up quickly, and regional trains don't have reservations. Sometimes the trains can be overflowing with passengers, and other times they can be almost empty. Having a seat is always a bonus.
We arrived to Hamburg on time, and once again I was reminded of just how chaotic that train station is. I had 45 minutes before my connecting high speed departed for Frankfurt, so, as always, I located the little boys room, but kind of wished I hadn't. Still, it was likely going to be better than the train facilities, even if the doors latched properly.
My Frankfurt train left promptly at 13h, and I luckily found a seat in the restaurant car. I got a little work done over the next four hours, and felt fairly relaxed. Another passenger and I had a little chitchat during the last hour of our journey, which made for a nice way to complete the travel.
Once we reached Frankfurt, I grabbed the next U-Bahn to my neighborhood, and by 17h30 was unpacking my suitcase and just feeling delighted to be home. The week had been long, stressful, but for the most part productive.
I managed to have a skype call with my father for 45 minutes, something I had missed during the week. We normally chat every couple of days, but with me being on the business trip, that was not possible.
By just past 19h, I walked into the pub, glad to be back in normal routine. I greeted some friends that I hadn't seen for the past week, and enjoyed the comforts that a Friday night in the pub always bring. The week was catching up with me, and I felt really tired, but stayed a little longer in the pub with a couple of friends before finally heading home to my own bed.
The chilly rainy weather (mixed with moments of sunshine) in Flensburg is in the past. Frankfurt has had mild temperatures through the weekend, and it is pleasant enough.
In fact, it's time to finish this post and get outside and enjoy the weather. Monday will come soon enough.
see you out there
bryan
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Buds, Pests, and a Couple of Airport Chuckles
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
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)