Time to Change the Changing Times

This coming weekend, Europe will adjust the clocks forward by one hour as part of daylight saving.
As much as I like the change of seasons, I recognize how much I am affected, typically when it comes to my sleep patterns. Like almost every year, during the last couple of weeks before we set the clocks forward, I find myself frequently waking up before my alarm clock.  Two weeks ago, I was opening my eyes each morning about 30 minutes before 6am.  Last week, I was waking up an hour before 6, and these past few days, almost 1 1/2 to 2 hours before the alarm.

Most of the time, I try to roll over and go back to sleep.  Frequently, this works without any incident.  Other times, I toss and turn for 15 minutes or so before ultimately deciding to just get up and get on with things: starting the coffee, switching on the laptop, or whatever.

This is a normal process, and my body gradually acclimates, much the way it does when going through jet lag. However, things get more complicated when additional factors come into play, namely mental stress, but I find that the overall mentality of how I adapt to change is also very significant.  I am very good at beating myself up when things don't go the way I would like them go, even if such things are far beyond my control.  That actually adds to the stress levels, and in no time at all you can find yourself well and truly out of whack.

Regular readers (thanks, ihr beide!) might recall that last year about this time, I went through a particular rough patch of my life as I was overwhelmed by extreme stress levels that were work related.  Despite spending a lot of time though the rest of the year searching for ways to get back on balance, I might make the argument that I was only partially successful. 

Last year, I was finally more interested in making a job change, but now almost one year later, I am still continuing on as before.  Sure, I made some personal changes that enable me to find a better balance for myself, but I still find myself irritated with my complacency, both in professional and personal daily life.

Again, back to the "beating myself up" bit: it is easy to go round in circles, but somehow I have to keep asking myself the right questions, to keep challenging myself.  What do I want?  Where do I want to go?  How am I going to get there?

As rewarding as this exercise of self reflection is, it can be both physically and mentally exhausting.  I am not a naturally selfish person, but sometimes I have to remind myself who needs to be number one.  Sometimes I remind myself at the inappropriate time, which can have a negative impact on those people close to me, ones that I particularly care about, and those consequences also have to be dealt with.  Other times (erm, most of the time, as some friends would say) I prioritize work, which tends to skew the life balance, and has a particularly tough toll on physical and mental strength.

I mention this because these past few weeks, I have not slept all that well, partially because of the season change, but also because of the overwhelming amounts of things I have going on with work.  The project that we started last October has been a complete rodeo, and here six months later, it has not really gotten any more stable.   At the beginning of the project, my boss told us to try and hold on (Halte durch!) and spent a lot of time and effort trying to explain to upper management that their decisions were going to wipe out the ops guys (us) on the grounds that we were stretched to the point of breaking.  Anyone who is familiar with my career over the last 20 years already knows that one in my profession has to have a certain strength in which to work in this kind of environment.  Most everything gets pushed to us to deal with, to handle, and this is just unfortunately how it is.  However, there are only so many times that one can run (knowingly) into a brick wall at full speed head first before something, usually bad, will happen.

I have never underestimated my mental strength and have always managed to persevere, albeit at great expense to me, who is supposed to be the hero of this story.  One of the things that has helped me over the past few years is knowing that my boss was fully aware of the situation and went to great lengths to support me, if not to try and protect me from getting completely annihilated as a result of company decisions.  I wasn't alone in this: my boss does this for everyone on the team.

At the end of February, I was dismayed to find out that as a result of his efforts to defend our team and by trying to bring some common sense to the upper management on how the business should be handled, he was forced out of the business.   Talk about a kick in the teeth.

I must say, I was most unsettled.  Suddenly, the guy that was giving me a glimmer of hope and helping to motivate me to keep getting up each day and give my best effort to the difficult job at hand was ousted.  In an instant, the wind got taken out of my sails.  One isn't always fortunate enough to work for someone who is always so supportive, but in my career, I have had the experience twice. The first time was many years ago, when a guy mentored me into the repair operations business and helped set me on the right path to a successful career (pause while I remind myself that I have accomplished a great deal in these first 25 years of my working life, in multiple countries, languages and cultures).

If my first great boss helped me get my start, then this second guy helped provide the reassurance that my career decisions have been the right ones.  The industry I am in is not the easiest to work in, but it sure helps when your manager understands that already, and finds ways to get the most out of the team despite the challenges.  I am lucky that I have had that support, and am very grateful.  Vielen Dank, der Herr.

Alas, life without changes is impossible, and refusing to adapt to change is foolish and naive.  My new boss contacted us in early March to schedule some quick introductions via telephone.  When my time slot came up, we spoke for about 20 minutes about all the things you would expect to discuss in a brief initial conversation. We made plans to meet face to face during his upcoming trip to Munich, where our main offices are located.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was recently at the portrait studio to get an updated picture to use for my resume.  This was long overdue, and perhaps it was the change in bosses that prompted me to finally go and make the appointment.  The photo came out as good as you can expect when you have a face for radio, and last week I uploaded the digital version to my professional network profile.

During Kiosk Abend these past few Mondays, I have related the recent developments to the guys.  We regularly talk about various topics, including my trials and tribulations from work.  At the very least, it allows us to avoid talking about how shitty Arsenal and Eintracht seem to be playing in recent months.  This past Monday was no exception, despite the fact that two of the guys were away on holiday, leaving only Mono and me to contemplate the affairs of the world.  We chatted about complacency, change, goofy politics; in other words, just a normal Monday evening.  Suddenly, a rather attractive girl walked up to the kiosk and pulled a copy of Brigitte off the magazine rack hanging on the wall.   She held the magazine up to her face as her friend snapped a photo.  Turns out that the girl was on the cover of the recent issue.  (Brigitte is basically the German version of Cosmopolitan).  That was rather an interesting experience, and just goes to confirm that you never know what to expect in my little corner of Bornheim.  Very cool.

Of course, the girl hardly gave us a glance, but that was really no surprise.  Not all of us can be famous, even for a few minutes.

Mono and I finished up our beers around 10pm, like always, and as we headed off in our different directions, he wished me luck for my meeting on Wednesday morning with my new boss.

Tuesday evening, I tried to go to bed early, as I would have to get up at around 3h30 in order to take an early train down to Munich.   It was a good plan, but I had so much going on in my head that I could not sleep.  By the time I finally fell asleep, I was already worrying about oversleeping, or that maybe my alarm wouldn't go off and somehow I would miss my train.   From the beginning of this piece, you might remember that I have already been waking up about 4 or 4h30 these past mornings, but Wednesday I needed to be up even earlier.  Not only that, I had a head full of all the things I figured I would be discussing with my new boss, and that was on top of the all the other open "to-dos" I have sitting on my desk.

So, I did not sleep all that well Tuesday night, but I was up on time Wednesday morning.  The train ride is a little over 3 hours to Munich, and since I rather enjoy train travel, I was able to relax on the way down.  I scribbled some notes about what I wanted to talk about during my meeting, and enjoyed several coffees while I watched the countryside pass by.

I walked into the offices just before 9am, and was mildly surprised to find very few people already at work.  It has been almost two years since my last visit to our headquarters, and while part of me was looking forward to seeing some old colleagues, I was also a bit cautious and curious; there is a lot of new management (including my new boss) and I was not sure how they would react to me.

Fortunately, I knew my way around the place, and after getting a coffee, wandered around to see who was about the place.  Gradually, a few more employees arrived to work, and one or two did comment that they almost didn't recognize me.  Indeed, it had been awhile.

My appointment was at 10am, and when I found my boss (I had looked up his profile already, so I knew what he looked like) he remarked that he did not recognize me, saying that my own profile picture was different.   "Well, it was until about 3 days ago," I responded as I shook his hand.

Well, our discussion went ok, and I will remain as open and positive as possible in how things will play out next.   I did also get a chance to meet some of the upper management, including my boss's boss.  With nothing to lose, I certainly gave him the honest feedback when answering his question, "So, how are things going?"

One of the positives from the visit was simply being in contact with other colleagues.  This is something that I have missed over the years of home office.  That being said, I was still glad when I was packing up my laptop at 14h to head to the train station to return to Frankfurt.  Like always, I cut things a little bit fine, and had to sort of run to the U-Bahn stop around the corner from the office.

As I reached the platform, a local Bahn was approaching, and that was my train.  I did not have time to buy a ticket, so jumped on the train, hoping that I could buy a fare on board.  With Deutsche Bahn, there is a little feature for Bahncard holders which enables you to ride from your original destination to the final destination (effectively door to door, as far as public transportation is concerned).  However, there are some exceptions, including this particular train.

Riding "Schwarz" is an offense that has a pretty hefty fine in Germany.  The public transport system generally follows the honor system, and maybe only once a month do I ever get asked to show my ticket to the ticket checking guy.  (note - on the distance trains, they always check.  I am speaking here only about the local city transportation).  However, I never have ridden without purchasing a fare.  A friend of mine tended to be the exact opposite, he never bought a fare, and took his chances.  His best story was the time that he got caught without a fare, which meant he had to pay a fine of 40 Euros.  As he exited the train at the next stop, he was approached by an interviewer who paid him 40 Euros to relate his experience.  In his view, he broke even.

At any rate, I wanted to avoid any bad situation, so when I jumped on the little train, I saw the conductor, and went to him to ask about buying a fare.  He commented that it was not possible to purchase a ticket on the train itself, and I pointed out that I had a Bahncard and was entitled to ride as part of my overall route.  Of course, this looked a little silly because I was not yet at the Bahnhof,so had not yet purchased my train ticket for the return journey to Frankfurt.

With a little luck, the conductor let me off the hook and told me he would allow me to ride to the Bahnhof without a ticket, but next time, there would be no exception: the penalty is now 60 Euro.

Feeling a bit sheepish but fortunate, I rode to the train station, then bought my ticket for home.  I found a seat in the Bordbistro, and spent the next three hours reflecting on the day's events.  I arrived back to Frankfurt around 18h, and made a quick beeline to the pub.  Sure, I was tired, but needed a little end of day refreshment.  I figured I would have a couple, then head home for an early night. Indeed, it had been a long day, and I was tired.

OK, I stayed for more than two beers, but still was home early and went to sleep almost immediately after a little dinner.

Sure enough, I woke at 4am yesterday morning, managed to go back to sleep for awhile, then eventually got up just past 6. Logged on to work by 6h15 (about normal) and made it through the day. Late in the afternoon, I felt the impact from the long day and lack of sleep on Wednesday.  Thus, I had a kind of quiet evening at home, but looked forward to this morning, as it a personal vacation day; my last remaining vacation day from 2016 (we have to use up all the days before end of March of the following year).

So, how did I start my morning today?  You guessed it.  Woke up at 4am.  Back to sleep for a bit, and then out of bed around 6.

Now, I am finishing my 6th espresso and finishing up this post.  Despite the day off, I will (already have, actually) be doing some work, if only to catch up on all the things that I have not been able to get done this week.  One of the nice things about putting the out of office notice on your email is that people tend to leave you alone.  That way, I can actually get a few things done that require a bit of quiet concentration without interruption. 

Yeah, I may be an idiot for spending my free time catching up on job stuff, but I still get off on accomplishing things, and if I can help clear my plate, at least I have a few seconds to try and catch my breath before the next pile comes my way.

Besides, we are about to lose an hour, or perhaps better said, spring forward.  I will psych it up, get motivated, and move along with the change.  Forward.

see you out there
bryan

It Was Only a Coat and Tie

I was speaking to a friend last month, and we got to talking about our CV's and business networking.  She suggested that I update my photo on my profile of one of the sites that I use.  I made a mental note to schedule a session at the photo studio, and finally got around to doing that early last week: an appointment for Friday afternoon at 17h30.

So, as the workday was starting to wind down on Friday afternoon, I started checking the clock to allow myself enough time to shower, dress, and make sure that I could still knot my tie.   One of the advantages of working home office is that business casual takes on a whole new level.  One tends to put on the comfy stuff, and that may or may not include threadbare Clash t-shirts from circa 1986.  That is all well and good, and does a fine job in keeping the more professional business or formal attire in really good nick. This is pretty much my case, since most of my "good" clothing is either brand new, or still fresh from the dry cleaners.

I identified the shirt and tie I wanted to wear, and was getting ready to jump in the shower when my mom skyped me.  I quickly mentioned that I was a little short on time, to which my mother responded with an "OK," then launched into a little summary of all the happenings since we last talked together.  We spoke (or rather, she spoke, I listened) for a further 10 minutes, and then I had to interrupt her, "Mom, I have an appointment in half an hour.  We will continue another day, OK?"

I never like having to do that with anyone, and certainly not with my mother, but I was eagerto avoid showing up looking a little anxious and rushed when I got to the studio.   Fortunately, I took a speedy shower, dressed, and got the tie right on the first try.  My luck continued when I got to the U-Bahn, where the train arrived just as I was walking onto the platform.  Two quick stops later, I walked upstairs to Merianplatz and then the 100 meters to the studio. Right on time.

A friend of mine had suggested I use this studio for photos, and she actually accompanied me on my first visit some 7 years ago when I last had my CV photos done.  She brought along some helpers to make sure that I smiled during the photo session, and this is exactly what I was thinking about when sat down on the little stool.  A couple of years ago, I was at this same studio to get my passport photos done, but for those pictures, one has to look a bit more serious.   For CVs, one typically smiles, or at least looks more open and friendly.  I had to concentrate a little on not smiling too much, since the memory kept making me chuckle.

The photographer positioned  me and snapped a few dozen pictures, and then we sat down at the computer to finalize the photo.  We chatted a little bit about which photos looked the best, and then finally decided on a keeper.   She told me that she would have everything ready by Monday, I paid up, and that was that.  20 minutes total.

I had dinner plans with some folks, so headed back up the street, stopping off at the kiosk for a packet of ciggy.  The nice woman there gave me a smile and a bit of a compliment on my attire; I certainly don't normally dress like that when standing around at her kiosk on Monday evenings drinking beers with some friends.

As I approached the pub, I met some folks that I know sitting outside.  They, too, reacted a bit to my attire.  I quickly explained where I had just come from, then went on into the pub, where one of the staff immediately dropped a glass as she saw me.  She and I normally speak together in Spanish, and once again, I gave her the explanation I had given outside just a minute before, albeit in Spanish.

The working weeks so far in 2017 have not been particularly fantastic, but unlike in years past, I haven't been rushing into the pub as an escape from the unpleasantness of work, choosing rather to find other alternatives to simply pinting up to forget said troubles.   Thus, I am in the pub slightly less (if only just a smidge) than before. 

La chica got over her surprise at seeing me in different clothes and got me a beer, which I greatly enjoyed as an official start to my weekend.   A few minutes, my dinner companions arrived, and once they got over their shock at seeing me in a coat and tie, we walked down the street to the restaurant.

We sat down in the busy restaurant, and the waitress was particularly friendly to me, as pointed out by one of my friends at the table.  I tried to argue that it was only because I was being polite, and it had nothing to do with my attire, but the excuse sounded a bit feeble.

Dinner was quite tasty, but the restaurant had a second booking for our table, so at 20h, we paid for the meal, and headed back up to the pub for a usual couple of post-dinner drinks; our usual way of starting the weekend. 

The pub was much much fuller upon our return, due in part to the rugby match being shown on tv, but mainly simply because it was a Friday evening.   We had run into a few folks walking down the street as we made our way back to the pub, and I had assumed that the reason that the child who accidentally rode their scooter into a potted plant on the sidewalk did so not because of their surprise to see me dressed up, but rather because they were still somewhat new to scooter riding.  True, the child's parents paid me a compliment on how I was dressed, but beyond the father's raised eyebrows and the mother's "gosh, you look nice," I did not think it was that big of a deal.

However, the reception I got in the pub from not only the bar staff but everyone else I happened to know came as a surprise.  True, I was rather flattered, but felt a bit sheepish; perhaps I should have removed the tie and changed shirts prior to going to dinner.   On the other hand, it felt sort of good to be smartly dressed, and I was rather pleased that I had not gotten any duck sauce on my white shirt or my tie. 

Through the remainder of the evening, the compliments continued to come, but I was glad to be brought back down to earth when a late coming friend said, "what happened to you?" as he got his Äppler from the barmaid.  It wasn't an unfriendly thing to say, it was simply his way of noting that I was dressed out of character.   We laughed a little as we remembered the last time either one of us had actually dressed up; we had both been at a wedding a couple of summers ago.

Na ja.  As usual, the time came to pay up and go home and tumble into bed.  I carefully removed my coat and tie (as carefully as one can when things are bit fuzzy after several pints) and fell asleep with a little smile on my face. 

I will likely remember the evening every time I log on to my business networking account, but that isn't a bad thing at all.

See you out there, in whatever you happen to be wearing.

bryan

Erkältet and Feeling Like Some of the Seven Dwarfs

Nope, it is not a title of a movie (though it could be one of the chapters of "Life of Bryan") but rather the feeling that I have every time I catch cold.

All through last fall, especially when the weather got quite cold in Frankfurt, I went out of my way to stay healthy, eat right, exercise, and avoid getting sick.  This proved a little tricky over Christmas break during my stateside trip, as my sister, my father, and my nephew all experienced some cold like symptoms during my visit. 

Fortunately, I stayed healthy over the next weeks and months.  There were a couple of nervous moments in January when I thought I was about to come down with something, but I fought my way through it.  Life has been a bit quiet during this first part of 2017, and I am not out and about quite as much as I am used to.  There are lots of reasons for this, but I will save that for a later topic.  I can simply summarize it by saying I haven't recently felt like singing "If You're Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands" at the top of my lungs each day. 

At any rate, with my regular trips to the gym and my efforts to stay healthy, I have been feeling pretty lucky to stay out of the sick bay. 

Until two days ago.

Late last week, I got up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water, and somehow managed to squeeze the plastic bottle in a way that splashed me right in the face.  Normally, I would find this rather humorous, but at 2am in the dark kitchen, I was more bemused than anything else.  And wet. 

The next morning, I did manage to chuckle about the experience, putting it into the category of  (sort of) funny things that can happen to oneself, like inadvertently spraying yourself in the eye with an aerosol can or tripping on an invisible step while walking down the street. 

My mental note to try and avoid repeating the water splashing in the future paid off, as I got through the weekend without further incident, until Monday morning when I sneezed three times in quick succession. 

Shit, I am coming down with a cold. 

Sure enough, the rest of the day just went downhill.  Nonstop sneezing, drippy nose, the works.  I had hoped that things would quickly progress into the simply congested stage, but I am still in drippy sneezy mode right now.  That basically means that I have gone through several boxes of tissue so far. 

This morning, my nose is finally red, so I am not looking forward to the trip to the grocery store to pick up more tissue; Christmas was two months ago so the time for Rudolph is past us. 

For some reason, I always think of the 7 Dwarfs when I catch cold.  Sneezy and Grumpy, for obvious reasons, but I somehow connect with the other 5 for the duration.  Happy comes at the end, when I finally feel like I am returning to the land of the living. 

Over the past several years, I have begun to tire of working "home office."  However, it is weeks like this one where I am almost overjoyed to endure my misery in the solitude of my kitchen.

Here's hoping that the cold passes quickly and I am back on the beat very soon.

keep the faith
bryan

New Maps, The Information, and More Questions

I probably have Tim to thank for this:   sometimes we would be sitting on the couch on a lazy Sunday morning, or walking down the aisle at the grocery store, or whatever the random place, and he would call out a song title.  In most cases, the song was one we both new very very well, and in most cases, it was a song from a local band; a band we saw play regularly at one of the rock clubs around Dallas.

One band in particular, Course of Empire, is a personal favorite of mine, and Tim was truly enamored the first time he got to see them.  We could easily connect with the high energy, high intensity rock and roll.  The music was brilliant, and the live shows were absolutely incredible.  We would be so exhausted at the end of each show, but no matter how much beer was consumed (usually a lot), we never felt drunk.  It was that kind of show.

In Frankfurt, my friend Mono will occasionally utter a song title while we are standing around having a beer, and a similar feeling hits me:  a simple song title can instantly take you to a certain time and place.  It is not quite the same with Mono as with Tim, since most of the time the song is from years ago, but both of us are instantly taken back to wherever we happened to be back then.  An example might be Blue Monday.  Mono was already old enough to be in clubs when he first heard the song, while I was still trying to get through some 8th grade math class.   Still, Mono gets it, and understands the power and influence music can have.

These thoughts all entered my head earlier this week when I opened the door to the DHL delivery guy, who was bringing me a new world map that I had ordered on line.  New Maps, you see, was a particularly lively song from Course of Empire, and I remember Tim regularly mentioning the song title at least 15 times per week. 

I have always liked looking at maps.  My grandfather had a world map that covered an entire wall in his basement.  I loved that, and always have wanted to get something similar.  I found a suitable one for my small apartment in Dallas (albeit considerably smaller that my Grandfather's), but somehow never got around to purchasing a new map for flat in Frankfurt, until this past week. 

I am particularly excited about this map (take that as me dancing around my living similar to the way I would behave at a Course of Empire show....if you need a visual, there a few videos posted of COE playing some live gigs) because even though it doesn't cover the full wall in my living room, it is pretty big.  And, as an extra little bonus that I didn't realize at the time I was ordering it through Amazon, it comes with some little magnets in two colors.  One color is to mark where you have been, and the other is to mark where you want to go.  I am still living through the excitement that the map is up on my wall, so haven't even placed any magnets on the map yet. 

Each day, I spend a few minutes looking at the map and collecting my thoughts.  I am still amazed at where I have been, how far I have come, and that I am now in Germany for 10 years. The word that comes to my mind is unfassbar.

Some 25 years ago, while standing at a COE show, I never imagined that one day I would be standing in the middle of my living room lost in contemplation, cup of coffee in hand, map on the wall, with a little sountrack of COE playing in the background.

I must say, it is a nice start to an early Friday morning.

Enjoying the Madness and New Ways of Getting Whomped

Well, October has been a real delight.

A few months ago, the management of the company where I work "won" a business contract that involved a pretty big scope.  When I first heard that we would be starting the new project within 45 days, I was very skeptical, as I did not really think we could take on such an initiative in such a short time.  The project involved new processes, new systems, and new people, and in my opinion, in order for things to be successful, someone would really have to have a perfect plan.

The project went live on the first of this month, and things have gone really pear-shaped.   I was naive to think that someone had really thought this project through, but am increasingly disappointed at the way that management has reacted; they are quickly pointing fingers at the operations guys (guys like me) in the field and claiming that we are failing to execute properly.

It is always distressing when someone tries to blame someone else for their own failures, and the added insult of getting run over by a steam-roller of accusations while we are already knee deep in the hoopla is enough to bring most people to their breaking point.  The systems don't work, there are no processes documented, and there not enough resources to support the magnitude of the project.  Before the project started, almost everyone in the field (again, those of us on the ops team) raised these concerns and vocally tried to explain that we were setting ourselves up for failure.   The response from management was a direct quote from a Nike commercial, and during the teleconference where this message came across, I could actually HEAR my colleagues drop their heads in shame and disappointment.  We were going to get screwed.

As a professional, I usually refrain from making overly sarcastic remarks in large meetings, so I did not say the things that immediately came to my mind when we received the instruction "Just Do It."

Do what exactly?  Act like a dipshit in front of our partner network because we tell them that the system we "thought" we had doesn't quite work like it had been explained, and as a result will cost people a lot more time, effort and money?  

What irritates me the most is being forced into the position of having to provide bullshit information to other people; I become almost as guilty as the management who sent us down this crappy road in the first place.

I will spare you the details, just simply picture this:   management team A tells a group of people that they need to go outside in the backyard and build a space program identical to NASA with a cardboard box and two old Speak n' Spells with rundown batteries, nothing more.  In one month's time.

Then, a few weeks later, management comes back to inspect progress, and then has the audacity to ask, "Where is the moon, again?"

That is about where we are.  Each week this month has been worse then the previous week, and one might speculate that it will continue to get worse. 

However, due to my own challenges earlier this year, I approach things like this with a different mentality now.  I REFUSE to let this unpleasant situation get the better of me.  It took me a long time to truly understand the value of the statement,  but indeed, life is way too short,.

So, I focus on being the best Bryan I can be, and as long as I know that I have done my best, that is OK.
True, it is always possible that someone thinks that my "best" is not good enough, but then again, that is not my problem, is it?  

As always, I get my strength and motivation from friends, family, music, and humor.  I remind myself each day what things are most important, and focus less on what is completely beyond my control. 

Two weeks ago, an old friend of mine died peacefully after enduring several years of bone cancer.  We knew each since childhood, as our families are very close.  She and I were not the closest of friends, but I would see her at church when I visited the states over the past several years.   Last Christmas was the last time I saw her, and not long after, the cancer came out of remission, and she lived her remaining months close to family and friends.

Sure, I am deeply saddened at her passing, but am truly inspired by her matter of fact approach to the whole ordeal.  She was so very strong and brave throughout treatment, and she focused on enjoying the life that she had instead of worrying about the life that she would not.   My sister visited Jill on a Friday evening, and they had a nice conversation about normal things.  Two days later, my sister returned for one last visit, although Jill was already in a coma.  Jill died the next morning.

I am so proud of her and am thankful for the time that I knew her.  Her life is a perfect reminder of what keeping the faith is all about. 

peace
bryan

Solving a Few Hardware and Software Issues

A couple of days after my return from the quick stateside visit at the beginning of September, I assumed I would be almost through with any jet lag.  However, I wasn't quite prepared for any additional issues that might leave feeling a bit out of sorts.  For some reason, I had an incredible bloated feeling, as if I had just eaten a very large meal, and this pretty stayed with me for almost a week.  The German word for bloated is aufgebläht, which I think is a pretty cool word for a pretty unpleasant thing.

I basically stayed home most evenings during the course of the week and took care with my diet.  Towards the end of the week, I was thinking that I was feeling better, but would likely stay very quiet during the weekend.  In preparation of the upcoming quiet days, I placed a quick order for some DVDs, which all arrived on Friday morning, just in time for the weekend.

Like every other international traveler out there,  I have quite enjoyed the in flight entertainment options in recent years; they are so much better than the way things were 20 years ago when we all had to wait for the one movie to be shown to the complete cabin.  Now, there are so many options available for the individual to select, it is almost overwhelming.   Since I rarely watch any television, don't visit the cinema too frequently, and almost never do anything more than doze on an airplane, I look forward to catching up on a few films every time I travel to the states. 

The recent flights gave me a chance to see a couple of gems, including 2 films that I watched both going and coming.  The films, in my opinion, were that good.  (note to self - watch the Irish film with Nadja)

Any way, there I was on a Friday morning, happy to have some films to watch, and once I finished work for the day, I collapsed on the sofa and tucked in for the first movie.  I elected to watch the movie on a large laptop that I have; the screen is a nice size and oh by the way, my DVD player in my living room is not always 100% functional. 

50 minutes into the movie, the little message came up saying, "hey, your battery is about to die, so plug the unit right now."

This was surprising, because I had the adapter plugged into the wall right next to me. 

2 seconds later, the laptop abruptly shut off.   I was so engrossed in the plot of the movie, I was only halfway concerned about the laptop issue.  

I decided to try and use plan B, which was the home DVD player hooked up to my normal television monitor.   After a bit of difficulty getting the player to read the media, I managed to watch another 20 minutes of the film.  Then, the DVD player decided to quit. 

Fuck.

The DVD player on my work laptop has not worked in over a year (if it ever worked), so my 2 options were always the home player or the second laptop.  In fairness, the 2nd laptop is not particularly young, and I have been contemplating a new purchase over the past 18 months or so.  However, as long as it was functioning, it was pretty easy for me to delay any urgent purchase.

So, last Friday evening, I was dead in the water.  Lots of movies, nothing to play them on.  
I was not feeling well enough to even want to try and resolve the problems (ie...buy a replacement unit), and unfortunately, I was not feeling well enough to simply read a book as a way to enjoy the evening.  Most folks here are well aware that I am an avid reader, and despite the fact that I read 4 books while I was in Texas (thanks, Jetlag!), the books were typical top 10 bestseller newstand kind of books.  Bascially, this means that you are reading a movie.   In most cases, a couple of hours after finishing the book, you know it was good story, but you cannot remember any of the character's names.  

I decided grumpily to go on to bed, very early.  Hopefully a night's sleep would have me feeling one step closer to being back fit. 

For what it's worth, the early nighty night did actually help.  I lounged around the house for the rest of the weekend, only venturing out one time to get a few groceries.   I felt pretty sure that the upcoming week would bring better things for me, and at least I would feel physically better.

Sunday morning, I decided to resolve my electronic equipment problems, and made a couple of online purchases; they would be delivered by mid week. 

Here we are again on a Friday morning, and this week has been better (slightly), albeit different, than last week.  The full feeling is gone, so my tummy is happier.  The fact that I seem to by fighting off a cold and yesterday morning may have twinged my back again is creating some annoyance, but thankfully, my laptop is working again, and there is a very small new DVD player sitting on the shelf in my living room. 

From a watch movies at home perspective, order is restored.

Here's hoping that next week goes a whole lot better.

see you out there
bryan

A Little Bit of Culture Pub

Ok, so I didn't get anything posted during the month of August.  In an upcoming post, I will provide a bit further detail as to why I was unable to get my act together and sit down and write something a couple of times.  At any rate, today I am going to talk about pubs. 

I have always embraced the pub culture, and it has always been so much more than just simply about the beers.  Mostly it is the opportunity to gather and meet old friends and new friends.  None of this should come as a surprise to you, especially those of you who have been right there the whole time, whether it be in the Monk in Dallas, or the IBP here in Frankfurt.

Last weekend, during the Labor Day holiday weekend, I was in Dallas for a very special occasion.  However, I managed to carve a brief window in the schedule, send out a couple of hail mary text messages, and suddenly we had a little gathering at the Old Monk on a warm (ok, really hot) Saturday afternoon. 

And I loved it.

When I return to Dallas for any visit, the OM is always going to be one of my stops, and usually I try to slip in more than once, just for old times sake.  Sure, I no longer live down the street, and it is actually a bit of a hike to get there from my parents house.  That being said, there is NO way I can pass up a chance to visit the pub.  Maybe I don't need to go for a complete session (like the old days), but I need to be there for a few pints.  And a burger. 

Due to some wacky travel stuff, I didn't actually get into Dallas until Thursday, the 1st of September, which was the important day (and the main reason for my visit).  However, it also meant that I was a little off-kilter for most of my visit.  First, I was a day late (and almost a dollar short).  Second, my luggage didn't arrive until the Saturday (pub day), and not least of all, I was knee deep in the jet lag. 

All of those things aside, my family were also quite busy, but I had a coffee with my sister on Saturday morning and we hammered out a plan for the afternoon and evening.  It was pretty simple, really.  Meet at the Old Monk at 5pm. 

My previous stateside visit was last December, during which I only saw a couple of people, and due to busy schedules, holiday season, etc, I did not get to see too many folks.   I never get too worked about these kinds of things, but certainly do appreciate it when the stars align, people come of the woodwork, and it all works out. 

That is exactly what happened on the said Saturday.  My sister and I arrived just when some other friends were pulling into the parking lot.  Then, suddenly B shows up with his two kids.  That was a bit of a pleasant surprise, but after quick hugs, we moved into the little terrace of the pub, where we found a couple of tables over in a corner where we could visit and sort of stay out of the sun. 

Drinks were quickly ordered, and the kiddos were perusing the menu for a little snack,when young Chris arrived with his son, who greeted me with a joyful cry and a big bear hug.  We all were able to catch up a little bit, enjoy some bevvies and snacks served by our very friendly and attentive waitress, and before you know, Lori had showed up with the two girls, plus an extra friend.  I realized that it was close to 7pm in the evening, but the sun was still out, and there was plenty of room on the patio.  Furthermore, the kids were active, but not up to too much trouble, save for the "let's catch fried calamari in our mouths" game that went on for about, hmmm, maybe most of a basket....

At any rate, the Monk has never made too much of an issue about bringing in minors outside of allowed times, especially if they are well behaved, and we have always been able to quietly "have a word" which usually cuts us some slack.  Therefore, we all continued to visit and the drinks flowed pretty well.  At some point, I split a little tempura mushroom appetizer with my sister, and that helped fuel the need to load up on a proper cheese burger.  Delightful.

Pablo arrived at some point, and eventually B and the kiddos had to take off, but Ben showed up a few minutes after that, so we continued with the bevvies and the good company.  Delightful. 

Eventually, Lori took the kids home, but Chris stayed for one more beer, and then we called it a night. Pablo and Chris went their separate ways, and Lynne, Ben and I talked for a few more minutes in the parking lot, before finally heading home.

It was one of those brilliant evenings that just worked out perfectly.  I got to see a few key people that I normally wouldn't get to see (all at the same time), and as an extra bonus, I got to catch up on a bit of the family kiddo front. 

Sure, some might consider the evening just another good night at the Old Monk, and it certainly was.  The food is always good there, and the beer never disappoints.  But, like I said at the top of the article, it is all about the hanging out time that makes it special for me. 

So, two days ago, again on Saturday afternoon, I was back in Frankfurt, trying to get over my jet lag after a quick stateside visit, and I figured, "hey, why not go hang out in the pub for a bit?" and headed across the street to my local Kneipe. 

I had no real agenda, and had made no plans, but figured that a few folks would be out and about.  After all, the pub is right in the middle of the neighborhood, and there is always someone passing by.  I was able to catch up a with a few friends who I hadn't seen since before my departure to Dallas, only one short week before.  However, that is what you do when you see someone after an absence:  you catch up with them. 

In my little corner of Bornheim, it is normal to see families come out to the pub during the afternoon, just like we had done at the Old Monk.  And people were ordering snacks and burgers left and right, just like you would expect. 

As I chatted with friends throughout the evening on Saturday, I kept a bit of a smile on my face, as I fondly remembered where I had been the previous week.  That being said, part of that smile was simply because when you recognize a good pub, then wherever it happens to be, you just look forward to being there the next time.

I have a 3 month wait before I will get back to the Monk, but all in good time...

see you out there
bryan

Finally Learning a Native Trick

"Pop!"

During summer, spending as much time outside as possible is key.  Socializing with friends over a few beers in the evening makes for a very pleasant pastime.   On Monday evenings, probably for the past 6 years or so, I have been meeting up with a few friends to enjoy a couple of bottles of beer.  The tradition kind of started between a few guys who are old friends, but don't live in the same part of the city, but they all make it a point to meet up once a week.   Those from the old days in Dallas will recall Wednesday night happy hour, where we would gather at the Old Monk each Wednesday to trade stories about how the week was going.   Kiosk Abend is basically the same thing, 

Kiosks are very common in the city, and I tend to visit the one down my street frequently, or at least when I am buying cigarettes.  Everyone in the community has a similar routine, whether it be for chewing gum, or their weekly magazine or newspaper, or whatever.  Papri, the lady who runs the kiosk near me, is very nice, and she is a fixture in the community. 

Most kiosks, like Papri's, are very small; there is only a little window where you can order what you need.  However, there is usually a little counter, and if you ever felt like having a beverage right there on the premises, you are more than welcome.  For someone who grew up in a place where this is totally not allowed, it is a bit of a novelty, but it retains it's charm, all the same. 

So, each Monday night, four of us tend to gather right out front of Papri's kiosk, order a round of bottled beer, and basically stand on the street and experience the world.  All the restaurants in the vicinity (there are probably 12 or so right there) have patios, and as you can imagine during the warmer months, there are a lot of people hanging around outside.  People are out strolling around, stopping by the ice cream parlor, and simply enjoying the evening.  Like I said, it is our standing engagement, and because it is smack in the middle of the neighborhood, we see loads of people walking up and down the street that we know.

Although Papri has a bottle opener, she will only open the bottles when asked; most of the time folks just grab their bottle of beer and go.  For the four of us, we consume right there on the spot, but since all the guys are German, they have a capability that has always been beyond me.  They have simply been able to open a beer bottle with a cigarette lighter.

This may seem like a small, insignificant thing.  In fact, it is the easiest way to tell if you are a native or not.  I may have close to 30 years experience drinking beer out of bottle, but I only have a few years experience drinking out of a bottle that was not a twist-off.

I pause for a moment and reflect on the irony.   When I was a 16 year old high school student, one of the organizations sold bottle opener key chains with the school mascot printed on it to the students.  Sure, every high school student was underage, but each and every one of us had a very useful tool.   (The irony within the irony is that during this time, most high school students were drinking canned beer anyway, and if there were bottles, then they were twist-off.)  The point is, no one was ever going to be stuck for being able to open a bottle.

When I went to college, I had one European classmate who showed us the trick of using a cigarette lighter to open a bottle of beer.  By this time, we were getting more and more into import beers, which did require the use of a bottle opener, but I still managed to have my little key chain from high school, so I was never really stuck.

Keg parties and pitchers of beer never required a bottle opener, and again, most of the time we ordered long necks, they would come with twist-off tops.  Truthfully, I never really gave it much thought.

That is, until I moved to Germany and found, to my chagrin, that I couldn't fucking open a bottle of beer with a bic lighter.  True, most of the beer halls and pubs that I go in serve beer from tap.  However, at any picnic, cookout, evening at the kiosk, or any other opportunity to stand around outside drinking from a bottle, you need to have a bottle opener, or you are stuffed. 

It is considered proper etiquette to open someone's bottle before opening yours.  For years, I have had to stand around looking like a complete complete dink because I was unable to quickly pop open a bottle or two for someone.   Sometimes, people would hand me a lighter, then watch as I struggled to effectively do a small physics project in vain.   "Here, let me do it," is usually what someone would say within seconds of seeing me in my agony.

One particular friend as been more than patient, and has tried repeatedly to teach me how to do this properly.  Still no luck.

As I do not keep beer at home, I don't get that many opportunities to practice.  Until last night.

I don't know if it was boredom or what, but finally one of the guys said, "C'mon, let's do this," and the three of them proceeded to give me coaching and guidance as I opened each bottle.  We didn't start until the second round, but that still meant that I had to open 8 bottles over the course of the next hour or so. 

Yep, there was some rolling of eyes, some sheepish grinning (on my part), and maybe a couple of phrases that aren't particularly polite in neither German nor English, but I FINALLY got the hang of this task.

With some whoops, pats on the back and all round great relief, I believe I have turned a significant corner.
I already am a little concerned about next Monday, but I think I am whisker away from being just as "profi" as those guys. 

OK, it is the little things in life, eh?

"Pop!"

see you out there
bryan

Always a Delight to Get Mail - Teil 3

"Heads up, you may have a random package arriving tomorrow or Friday."

That was the message I found when I looked at my mobile late Wednesday night about a week ago.

Cool.

Like everyone, I enjoy receiving something through the regular post from someone other than the Amazon delivery guy.  Personal letters are few and far between these days, and more often than not, are sent via email, if not shortened to a quick text or whatever.  We know this, so all the more reason to get excited about a package.

The following afternoon I ran into my neighbor who was also looking for a package that she had ordered.  "I am going to receive a package, too!" I exclaimed with probably a little too much enthusiasm, considering I had no idea what was on the way to me.

By Saturday afternoon, I realized that the package was still in transit, so made a mental note to let Chris know at some point early in the upcoming week.  We ended up trading a few messages about a few other topics, but at one point I found out that the package was still in transit and that the carrier had requested my contact telephone number. 

So, I wasn't too surprised on  Tuesday morning when the girl phoned from DHL.  She was from the customs office and wanted to find out who was going to cover the customs tax and duties.   As the recipient, that pretty much was going to rest with me.  "What's in the package?" the girl asked me.  "Is it a gift of something?"

"Yeah, I assume it is some sort of gift," I responded, and explained that I was at least aware of the package, though not so clear on the contents. 

She then proceeded to let me know that I would need to confirm the statement in writing, and asked for my email address so she could send me the little form to fill out and return.

Now, I really don't like having to spell my name over the telephone or for that matter, in person.  I think part of this is due to the difference in the ways that vowels get pronounced.  For example, in American English we would say:

a ( like when the Fonz says "ayyy!")

e (like what you say when sliding down a slide, only without the w)

i (like "eye")

o (like "oh")

u (like "you")

and sometimes

y (like "why")

In German, the pronunciation is not quite the same:

a (like when you say "ah, now i understand.")

e ( like when the Fonz says "ayyy!")

i (like what you say when sliding down a slide, only without the w)

o (like "oh")

u (like "oooh, that's gross.")

and sometimes

y (like "oops salon")

Learning how to say the vowels is not all that difficult, and is simply a part of language learning.  However, what I have experienced over the years in both Spanish and German, is that when it comes to comprehension, things can be a little tricky, especially if you are conversing in a certain language where one of you is NOT a native speaker.  It is very easy to listen to someone say a vowel out loud in German, and immediately write down the English letter that corresponds with it, since the brain sometimes goes into autopilot in cases like this. 

Consider briefly if someone calls out to you the letters for wine in the German language.

While the German is saying "w-e-i-n,"  what one English native might hear (and then write down) is "W - A - E - N"
Actually, since the letter W has a completely different sound (more on that in a minute), one might actually write: "V - A - E - N."  Neither "waen" nor "vaen" means anything; they aren't words in English or German.

OK, maybe that was an extreme example, but I truly believe that others experience similar difficulties.  Maybe not all the time, but there is still that chance. 

Additionally, I never learned the NATO phonetic alphabet, preferring instead to use my own words.  While this grants me a certain amount of creativity, I do lose points for lack of consistency.  Furthermore, when trying to use the phonetic alphabet in German, due to the difference in consonants, things can also be very challenging. 

So, I carefully started spelling my email address to the DHL woman, and I was pleased that she was following without any problems.  Obviously she has some considerable experience with this, as once or twice she did start to confirm my spelling with the NATO alphabet.  When we got to the last letter of my last name, we both sort of hesitated.  On one hand, she already had picked up on the fact that my email address included my last name, which she had listed as he recipient of the package.  On the other hand, I think she wanted to hear how I was going to say the W, since in German this letter gets pronounced like an English "V."

After a moment's hesitation as I tried quickly to think of a word starting with the letter W, I finally uttered "walrus," which I immediately felt a little sheepish.  However, she came back with, "Genau!" and confirmed that she had understood.  I kind of felt like she was cheering for me.  Coo coo cachoo. 

We finished our phone call, and a few minutes later, I received the little form, which required that I tick the correct box to declare the goods.  I was a bit confused, and started to get a little nervous, because these things have a way of getting completely out hand very quickly.   I looked at the pdf file of the contents of the package that had been given when it was shipped from the US, but the words "personal effects" can vary from person to person.  I figured I might know what personal books were being referred to, but "office supplies" was also a bit cryptic. 

I consulted briefly with a friend of mine who runs a little mail-order shop, and he told me how best to complete the form.  I signed and scanned the document, then emailed back to DHL and hoped that they would not send all my stuff to the local customs office.  If that were to happen, then I might end up having to pay some expensive fees.  Several years ago when I ordered some shoes and boots, I ended up having to spend an extra 40% to clear the goods through customs.  I was eager to avoid a similar situation this time round.  I did not want to have to get forced to pay a lot of duties on things that already belong to me. 

Well, the doorbell rang during the rainy morning on Thursday, and a soggy DHL driver came upstairs with a medium sized box in his hands.  He confirmed my name, and then asked me for 32 Euro.  I had sort of expected this, and handed over the money, relieved that the amount of the duties was not too much. He gave me the package, and I opened the box curiously, truly still wondering what personal effects of mine might have come from the US. 

With great delight, I realized that the package contained several of my journals, stories, and various other monologues that I had written during college and throughout the 90s.  I didn't believe that I had lost them, but let's just say I wasn't so sure where they were.  The other bits were also nice:  expired documents, a couple of old concert fliers, and a few other various bits that I had kept through the years.  The total value of the goods could not have exceeded more than 20 bucks, but the value of those journals?   For me, it is an absolute treasure.  Thanks, Chris.

In all likelihood, in the coming weeks and months, I will post a couple of the old "stories" from long ago, which will certainly give a glimpse into the life of Bryan prior to the launch of this blog back in 2006. 

Yep, I have posted two times this week, but for very good reasons.  What a way to start the weekend.

see you out there
bryan

Processing Belief

I think I am going to stop saying things like, "Gosh, the morning headlines are really depressing right now," as each day seems to get more and more distressing for the world.  It is one event after another, from attacks on German trains, to more police shootings, and the list goes on. 

Last evening a friend of mine summed things up quite well simply by saying, "The world is shit right now."

We were discussing our views on various topics, from terrorism, to politics, to immigration, and my friend was particularly concerned, as his son will be 1 year old in another week.  Obviously he is worried about the future of his child.  All of us at the table agreed that we are struggling to believe all of the things that seem to be happening in the world right now, and we keep asking a lot of questions about how to help resolve these issues. 

True, I have tossed and turned during several recent nights, and haven't been able to get as much rest as I would like, simply because there is too much on my mind.  As much as I think about stuff and as much time as I spend thinking about stuff, I still don't really meditate.  I usually describe myself as somewhat pensive, but that would be another blog post entirely.  For relaxing my mind, I find going to a rock show pretty much does the trick. 

A few days back, a friend sent me a text asking if I wanted to go to the Bad Religion show. 

Of course. 

I hadn't seen the band before, and while I followed them during the 90s, I really got hooked on them again with their album, "Process of Belief."  My friend with the extra ticket is about the same age as me, and I assumed most of the concert attendees would be above the age of 35.  Part of this assumption was confirmed during my quick current event discussion last evening:  two of people in the conversation were under 35, and neither of them was familiar with this American punk band.  Then, a buddy of mine showed up (he is 3 years younger than me), and as soon as I told him where I was about to go, he jumped up and down and said, "hey, I think I will try to get down there a bit later....i love that band."

At any rate, I left my friends to continue their discussions about the world, and I headed off to the U-Bahn to make my way to the concert.  Despite the detour I had to take due to one of the lines not operating, I made it to the venue, found my friend, got a beer, and within a few minutes, the opening act came on stage.

And that is all I will say about the opening act.

During the set change, I looked around at the other folks.  True, most were in my age group, which was just fine; it is always nice to see people enjoying themselves at any age.  We may not be Pogo-ing around quite like we did 20 years ago, but we are still there (although most of us were also thinking a small bit about making sure we made it on time to work the next day).

There is nothing better than seeing a band enjoy themselves on stage.  Bad Religion were just touring, they weren't promoting any new album, and they seemed like they were on their summer holidays.   They played with enthusiasm and energy, and it just made for a really pleasant evening.  A perfect way to take my mind off of troubling things...

Halfway through the set, my friend turned to me and said, "you know, we should be coming up to this club all the time."

I had been thinking the exact same thing.   My last concert was almost 2 years ago, and that is approaching "disgraceful."  However, I have realized that many of us are not going to concerts with the same frequency as years before, and that is due mainly to the logical progressions in our lives:  starting families, raising children, careers, etc.   But, I also recognize that there are fewer and fewer concerts that I want to see.  Opening act from last evening?  Forgettable.  If that is the musical future for us, then we are going to suffer. 

OK, there are not that many bands that have toured for the past 30 years, and furthermore, some of those bands that have toured that long have not done it all that gracefully.  Bad Religion are an exception, and like all good shows, it was a night out with a lot of friends.  Everyone enjoyed themselves, including the younger fans (who are really in their early 30s) and it was very comforting to stand in the crowd singing all the songs.  The band are known for their harmonies, and it was quite cool (albeit unsurprising) that the fans would also sing in harmony. 

Alas, the set came to an end.  The band played a couple of encores, and then the lights came up, bringing us back down to earth.  I was saying good-bye to my friend when I ran into the girlfriend of another friend of mine.  So, I chatted a bit more with her and a few of her friends as we finished up our beers.  She represented the younger set of fans and was equally glad that she came to the concert.  She works at a few pubs around Frankfurt while she finishes her degree.  We spoke a little about looking forward to the upcoming block party next month, where she would be serving beers outside the little rockabilly shop outside of my flat.  As the cups were emptied, we headed to the U-Bahn, travelled back into city, and then as we said our good-byes, we all agreed that it had been a great evening and a great show.

Yeah, maybe the world is shit right now.  We certainly have some problems.  But experiences like a good concert, drinking beer and chatting with friends?  They help remind us that we deserve happy thoughts and lives.

It is something to believe in.

see you out there
bryan

What Next?

My morning routine is pretty basic.   Once I am out of bed, I tend to turn on the computer and start making the first coffee of the day.   As soon as the coffee is ready, I sit down and scan the morning headlines in both English and German.  The last few weeks have made for particularly distressing reading, and I was already becoming increasingly dismayed with the state of affairs in the world, particularly in relation to violence involving police officers in the US.

Last Friday morning, I had the upsetting experience of seeing my hometown all over the headlines, due to the attack on the Dallas police officers.  Emotionally distraught, I burst into tears as I read through the articles detailing the events.

Despite feeling really  down through the remainder of the day, I met up with some friends for dinner at a local restaurant, and afterwards stopped briefly by a party at a little shop next to my flat that was celebrating 10 years.  There, I saw a handful of some of my German friends, but unfortunately, someone unintentionally made a remark about the recent events in Dallas and it caught me at the wrong time.  In fairness, these friends are all open and respectful, but the events hit a little too close to home.

I quietly moved on to the pub across the street, intending to have a beer and then maybe return to the party, but I ended up chatting with a couple of other friends.  We spoke about the victims over the past weeks, the sadness we felt for the circumstances, the victims, and for the survivors.  We spoke of our concerns over the lack of solutions that were needed in order to help us avoid a continued tailspin.   Pretty depressing conversation topics, true, but it felt ok to open up to a couple of folks about it. 

The weekend itself was pretty somber, at least for me.  I stayed at home in a funk on Saturday, but late in the afternoon ventured out for a little sunshine, saw an old friend, chatted with a new friend, and laughed as I watched the very young daughter of some friends of mine do her little bits of cuteness. 

Frankfurt temperatures were pretty warm on Sunday, so I spent the late afternoon again enjoying the sunshine on the terrace of the local pub.  Though the victims from Dallas were still in my thoughts and prayers, I enjoyed watching all the young families go about their Sunday afternoons.  There was some sort of school party earlier in the day, and as a result, there were more children outside as compared to other weekends.  I thought of them as they played in the school yard across the street, and wondered if they were aware of the horrible events and problems that are facing the states right now.   Hopefully not.  However, I did hope that their parents were teaching them love, respect, and not to have fear, but instead be cautious.

I was standing around a little table top barrel with a few guys, including an Italian neighbor who just acquired a 3 month old kitten.  I am not really a cat guy, but this little cat was very subdued, a little curious, and happens to be very exotically striped.  Just about EVERYONE who strolled by stopped to take a look at the cat.  A family came by with two small children, who clearly wanted to pet the cat.  The mom gently encouraged them to ask my buddy.  My buddy, however, speaks no German, so sort of looked at them blankly instead of responding, "Sure, you can pet the cat." 

I did a quick translation, and in seconds the children were gently stroking the cat, who really seemed to enjoy the attention.  A few minutes later, the family moved on, and my buddy's cat, who was on a leash, decided to investigate the surroundings, including the inside of the pub.  So, my buddy and his cat left the table for a few minutes, then came back outside, where another family happened to pass by.

Re-read the last paragraph, and that pretty much happened two more times over the next 15 minutes.  Finally, my buddy said that it was time to take the kitten home to his flat, which is almost as close to the pub as mine.

During his brief absence, a little girl returned from playing in the playground across the street and asked her mother where the cat was.  She was looking under the tables, and seemed a bit sad that the cat was not around.  Just then, the Italian guy arrived back, and I mentioned what was going on.   Five seconds later, the mother of the child came up and asked about the cat.  Not surprisingly, she asked the question in German, but, as I was standing right there, I responded in English (I had already heard her speaking in English to her daughter) that the guy didn't understand German.

However, once the woman asked the question again in English, he offered to take them to see the cat at his flat around the corner.  So, they all headed off for a few minutes.

I was struck by the simplicity and the politeness of the events. It was nice to see pleasant people treating others with respect, regardless of nationality or age.  There have been far too many random acts of violence in recent weeks, and I needed to see these random acts of kindness, however small.  I still truly believe that most of humanity does prefer acts of love and kindness as opposed to acts of hate and fear.   

Last evening, I had a chance to skype with my grandmother, who told me how devastated the citizens of Dallas were feeling.  She went on to say something that was certainly not new to me, but I needed to hear it again. 

"I have never hated someone, but I have hated what someone has done." 

I was taught never to hate anyone, and that is the way I have always lived my life.  The distress, the dismay that I felt last Friday morning was not just about my home town, but because I was asking the question again, "how can someone feel so much hatred that they want to go out and do something like that, simply with the intent to harm others?" 

As my grandmother went on to say last evening, "I wish I was smart to have the answers to that question."

Me, too.

keep the faith
bryan

Domestic Urban Security - the Joys of House Keys and Doorbells

Last Friday night when my house key broke off in the lock of the door, I thought to myself, "Can this really be the second time that this happened to me?"

I am not sure what the average failure rate on keys should be, and likely it is very low, but the number of those incidents which has been inconvenient?  I imagine that number to be quite high.  My two experiences certainly didn't come at opportune times. 

Some 20 odd years ago, I got home to my parents house one night after being out with some friends, and when I put my key in the backdoor and turned, I felt the key sort of snap off, and I pulled out the useless part, leaving the business end inside of the lock.  Door still closed.  Neat.

Of course, my parents were out of town (I think was house-sitting or home for summer break or something), but I had not remembered which neighbors (if any) held a second set of keys to the house.  Because of the rather late hour, I was not about to wake up ALL of the neighbors to try and find the replacement keys.  Unfortunately, the only other option was to call my grandmother, hope that she answered the phone, and then drive to her house and pick up her set of keys to the house. 

That meant I had to drive to the nearest payphone (note - that sentence you will NEVER hear in Europe, unless it is someone telling a story) so I could call my grandmother.   Again, the lateness of the hour was not very convenient, but I was glad that my grandmother is a light sleeper.   She answered the phone cautiously, and I quickly explained my predicament, then drove across town to her house, picked up the key, returned home, and went to sleep.

It really wasn't that big of a deal, but for what it's worth, I kept that little part of the broken key that attaches to the key chain. 

The second this happened, it was still late on a Friday night, but through a stroke of luck, the key broke off AFTER the house door had opened, and furthermore, the key was no longer in the lock.  This enabled me to safely enter my house and go upstairs to enter my flat.  The flat itself has a different key, which is all well and good, but without the front door key to the house, you have no immediate way to enter the building.  More on that in a second.

Last Friday, my immediate need was to go sleep, and when I woke up Saturday morning with a rather fuzzy head, I didn't remember what had happened until I entered the kitchen and looked down at the broken key on my counter.  I took a photo of the broken key and sent it to my friend who has the second set of keys to my flat.  "Help!"

Well, it turns out that she was out of town, but since I look after her second set of keys, I had a way to go over and retrieve my spare set.   However, I was pretty sluggish on Saturday, so it took me most of the day to get myself in gear and ready to go over and pick up the key. 

The key point here, is that without this front door key, I was not able to get back into my building.  Even though I am acquainted with my neighbors, I cannot just ring the doorbell and expect for someone to buzz me in, especially late at night. 

I consider my neighborhood to be quite safe, but that being said, everyone typically has their own security
plan.  By security plan, I mean how one handles their personal safety.  For example, as children most of us were taught not to talk to strangers.  This was easy enough to do in suburban USA, but what about in the crowded weekly market in downtown Frankfurt?  Urban living is noticeably different.

Locking doors is a given.  I always lock my flat when departing home, and I usually make sure that the front door to the house as fully closed (it locks automatically) before I walk down the street.  However, as I mentioned, to gain access to the house, one either uses a key or the doorbell.

When the guys come to pick up the trash, they sort of hit all the doorbells at once, and a few seconds later, they are buzzed in as half the people in the house have just "buzzed" them in.   Usually the guys shout "trash guys," or something to that effect.   They tend to come at the same time, and when I have ever buzzed them in, I usually step out on my balcony to make sure that they are actually taking the trash out.

Likewise, the DHL and UPS drivers, when delivering their packages, ring the bell of the particular resident, but as we often realize, these drivers deliver during the day, which is precisely when no one is at home.  The drivers then start ringing ANY bell, in hopes that someone will answer.  That way, they can complete the delivery. Yours truly works home office, so am regularly signing for packages that come to my neighbors.  That is all part of the experience, and again, if I buzz someone into the apartment building, I tend to find out who they are, or what they want to do. I am not nosy, but I am cautious. 

That being said, because my little intercom doesn't work so well (it sounds like the teachers do from the Charlie Brown specials), I tend to buzz someone in, then open my door and check who they are.   The other day, it was a guy delivering flowers to my next door neighbor.  Last week, it was something from Amazon.
Only twice in the past decade have I opened the door to someone that I probably shouldn't have.
Once, thinking it was the trash guy, I buzzed someone in, only to have to get into a conversation with a Jehovah's Witnesses.   No disrespect intended, but that is really not my thing.

The other time this happened, it wasn't actually me who answered the door, nor was it really a big problem.
During my second year in Germany, I took private language lessons on Saturday evening in my flat.  One night, the doorbell rang at about 9pm, and I was prepared to ignore it, but my teacher wanted to see who it was.  As it were, I was learning vocabulary about kitchen items, including pots and pans and cutlery.  As I opened the door to see who was coming into the flat, I found a couple walking up the stairs carrying a bottle of wine and some flowers, presumably on their way to a dinner party.

What I didn't realize was that my teacher was standing behind holding one of the carving knives from my kitchen block.  The guy coming up the stairs sort of startled, then I realized what had his attention, and after a few brief awkward moments, we clarified that the new arrivals were at the right house number, but on the wrong street, which basically meant that they were not in the right house. My teacher explained how they could reach the correct street, but her credibility was blown because of the knife she was holding; the couple never took their eyes off of it.

As they departed and we resumed our German lesson, I asked my teacher if that was how she always answered the door, knife in hand.  She responded, "Well, you can't be too careful." 

Fair enough, but for me, I personally prefer a less threatening way of greeting someone. 

At any rate, I need to sign off and go get a replacement key made today, and also find a place for my second little broken key...a souvenir of another little experience.

see you out there, but leave the cutlery at home.

bryan

Schnitzel Happens - Rain and Sun in the Summertime

Last evening, Germany played their final group stage game of the Euros, but instead of heading out to watch the game at a pub with a large crowd of people, I elected to watch it quietly at home.  This decision was driven primarily because I have been out every night since the beginning of the tournament, almost two weeks ago.  During June and July, it is always fun to spend as much time as possible outdoors.  It stays light much later, and as long as the weather is good, most people are outside enjoying the summer evenings.  Add the European Championships, and there is even more activity.  But, the body can only take so much before it needs a little break.

As much as I like (if not prefer) autumn and winter, I do enjoy this time of year, as long as it does not get too hot.  That has not been any problem so far this summer.  In fact, we have had rather a lot of rain over the past weeks.   However, as much as I like the rain, I looked forward to perhaps a few days with a bit more sunshine, particularly last weekend when some old friends came into town. 

Shortly before their arrival, the weather reports were pretty direct:  rain, rain, and more rain.
Sure enough, over their visit, we had rain, rain, and more rain.  What was a bit interesting is that we also had extended moments of sunshine, and several times we actually had rain and sunshine simultaneously. 
None of this deterred us from hanging out, seeing a few bits around town, and making sure that they got their fill of German cuisine.  


For me, it was one of the special situations where time seemed to race by and stand still at the same time.  It seemed like we had been hanging out for weeks, after the second day...
Then, suddenly it was Sunday evening and time to let things go back to normal routine. I would return to work after a couple of days off, and they would fly home to the US.

Yesterday in the gym, I checked myself on the scale, and was not surprised to see that I had put on a few kilos in the past days.  I, too, got my recent fill of local cuisine and apparently have a few souvenirs from the experience.   Well worth it, as far as I am concerned.

At any rate, that all helped me decide to have a quiet night at home last evening.  Germany won their match, and afterwards, I stood on my balcony for a few minutes and watched it start to rain.  Again.

As I stood there, I thought about my friends back in the states and wondered if they were going to do Taco Tuesday.  Ironically, I realized that that is what I had eaten for dinner, too. 

 "Yep," I said to myself as I turned to go back inside,"that was a great weekend."

cheers to Goliad. thanks for the visit.

bryan

Suck Potential and Other Domestic Bits

When I was a freshmen in college, a guy who lived down the hall on my floor in the dormitory stood out for a couple of reasons.  One, he was muscle-bound, albeit not overly tall.  Sure, there were a lot of pretty big guys who were hitting the gym and playing on the football team, but this guy didn't play any sports.  He was clearly only into bodybuilding, but clearly knew what he was doing in the weight room. 

Number two, he acted and spoke as if he came straight from the set of Valley Girl, which was a bit odd, as that film was already 5 years old, and perhaps more significant, this guy did not come from California.

Let be me clear, the guy was a nice enough and while we never were really friends, we certainly acknowledged one another around campus, in the gym, or wherever.  My school was small, and I was well aware that he had some intelligence, as our school was heavily focused on academics.  That being said, and although I didn't hold this against him, I couldn't help but think to myself regularly, "Gosh, this guy talks like a dipshit."

One of his key phrases was always, "Man, that has suck potential," which started to get annoying after about the 3rd time I heard him say it.  In the grand scheme of things, it was rather insignificant and I had forgotten all about it until this past weekend when I was doing the house cleaning. 

For the most part, I keep a pretty tidy flat.  I pick up after myself, and try and do a thorough cleaning at least every two weeks, if not once per week.  This includes hoovering.   Normally, I try to adhere to the rule of "shoes off," which really cuts down on the dirt and crud that one tracks through the house.  However, in the past month or so, I have had some back problems that made it somewhat painful to put on and remove my shoes every time I had to go somewhere.  This was only a short term solution, and as my back improved, I looked forward to getting out the vacuum cleaner. 

My little hoover works pretty well, but I decided to have a peep at the dust bag before I started cleaning last weekend, and sheepishly realized that perhaps it was time to install a new bag.  It might have even been better had I actually changed out the bag 4 years ago when it really needed it, but anyway, I changed the little bag out, flipped the switch, and then the extension tube that I was holding in my hand suddenly pulled a poster off the wall.  Part of me was amazed at the improvement in suction, but I was equally disturbed by the fact that the past couple of years at least my vacuuming had clearly not been so adequate. 

As I continued my cleaning, I found myself thinking about my first year of college and thought to myself, "Never underestimate the power to suck."

see you out there
bryan

Marching On - The Spirit of 2016

30 years ago today,  I went to my very first rock concert.  I had just turned 16, and had only had my driver's license about a month.  Of course, my parents wouldn't allow me to drive to the concert, which was held at the Bronco Bowl in Dallas.  That really didn't matter too much to me; I was simply keen on going to the show. There would be plenty of other times for driving.

Earlier that school year (in the autumn of '85), my first year in high school, I had met a guy who introduced me to the music of the Alarm.   From the first listen, I was totally hooked, and over the months had spent countless hours listening to all of the albums, including the latest release, Strength, which was quite their tour de force.  

My buddy had already seen the Alarm during their fall tour, and he told me that he was sure that they'd be back in the spring.  Sure enough, concert dates were announced and we organized our tickets.  I had already heard from my friend how great a live show the band tended to put on, and I had big expectations. 

Well, that concert was a bit of a watershed for me.  To this day, it still remains my favorite concert, but more importantly, it really hammered the musical influence into me.   I have been to loads of concerts over the past three decades, and while many (if not most) were all special in their own right, it is simply the experience of seeing the Alarm that makes for one of those great moments in my life.  The band enjoyed playing the gig, and played their hearts out.  Not only that, they go out of their way to share the experience, the music with the fans.  It makes for a really moving experience. 

Over the years, I have quoted more than once from Alarm lyrics in various posts, and I will do it here again at the end of this piece.   The words always seem to fit, and I can certainly take joy in the motivation that the music still brings me.

About a month before the Alarm played my show in Dallas, they put on a free concert on a college campus that MTV broadcast live.  Though I was aware of this live concert, I think I didn't actually see the video until years after.  At any rate, last month I watched it one Saturday morning, and it helped bring back a few wonderful memories.  (If you have 70 minutes or so, I would encourage you to check out the concert.)  Not surprisingly, the set list was pretty much the same as what I saw  at the Bronco Bowl a few weeks later,


For me, that particular Saturday morning was pretty tough, so as the energy and inspiration that came from the video was more than welcome.
I almost got my guitar out and held it over my head (once you see the opening song, you know what I am referring to), but in the end just sang the words:

Take this song of freedom
Put it on and arm yourself for the fight
Our hearts must have the courage
to keep on marching on and on

I have sung those lines together with thousands of fans, or simply alone, like the other day. 
Either way, no matter how often I sing those words, I still get the same great feeling.

Strength.


see you out there
bryan

Ack! Too Many Public Holidays This Month!

May is a month of public holidays in Germany, and this year, all of them have landed on weekdays, which basically means that we have at least three fewer working days.  I am certainly not complaining, but I am using it to explain my lack of posts the past couple of weeks.   Who am I to stand in the way of public holidays?  The number of days off came as a surprise to me years ago when I first moved here.  We had just started our repair operation, and two months after launch (when things were far from stable) we suddenly had a holiday each week.  That is thing:   When the calendar works right and the holidays fall on weekdays, it kind of throws you for a loop, albeit a good loop.

When the weather has cooperated, I have tried to take advantage of the extra days off by spending time outside.  Of course, everyone else is doing this too, so the cafes and pubs are pretty active.  Frankfurt have had sort of a bad footballing year, and within a matter of days, one of the teams has been relegated to the 3rd division (from the 2nd), and the team in the Bundesliga has to play a relegation playoff, and their form for most of the season has been poor and indifferent.  Thus, I am not expecting them to stay up.

Meanwhile, the English league finished with a bit of last minute drama.  I will refrain from making too many comments, because the pundits have really irritated me in recent months.  While I respect that Arsenal did not have a particularly good season, they still managed to come in a distant second place in the league.  Thanks again to the Geordies who did a number on Spurs on the final day of the season.  That made my month. 

In fact, as the match results were coming through, and despite my lower back pain (yep, i threw my back out about a week and half ago), I rushed over to the pub to celebrate with....erm, no one, really.  It was just another Sunday afternoon before a public holiday (Monday) where everyone was out and about enjoying the weather, eating ice cream, having a drink, and in my case, looking forward to a break from football, albeit we have only a  few short weeks until the Euros. 

This morning, my back is feeling quite a bit better, the weekend is almost here, and next week?  You guessed it.  We have another public holiday.

See you out there
bryan

An Overwhelming Thanks on a Saturday Morning

This month has been rather emotional.  For business reasons, our company has terminated some contracts with a couple of customers, which ultimately means that I will no longer be working with some of the repair partners that I have been in close contact with over the past several years.  Two weeks ago, I visited one of my repair sites in Germany to complete a few final tasks, and had the opportunity to have dinner and a few beers with the guys.  We have all been in the industry for a while, so we know how things tend to be.  Nothing lasts forever, and as some projects come to an end, others will start up.  One always hopes to find another opportunity in the future to resume the working relationship, but I was particularly touched that the guys expressed the same sentiment.  So, it was a literal "auf Wiedersehen."

Not surprisingly, I was feeling a bit pensive at the weekend.  Friday evening, I met up with a few friends for dinner at the pub, which was followed by a few more pints.  It was a pretty nice time, marred only by the presence of a guy that I had met briefly once before.  The pub was a bit crowded, so when I saw him across the room, I headed outside to chat with a friend, and hoped like hell that he wouldn't see me and come outside.

For a few minutes, my luck held out, and I was able to converse with my German friend; we caught up on a few bits, but, as both of us are rather quiet, a lot of times we can simply enjoy the time without babbling the whole time.  Then, the guy came outside for a cigarette, came over to our barrel, and greeted us in English.  He couldn't remember my name, but I answered when he asked, then continued to sort of stand there quietly.  Like I said, Mono and I were not really saying a whole lot, but neither of us intended for the silence to serve as an invitation for someone to come up and start a conversation.  OK, we were in a pub, so this is a normal thing for people to chat randomly, but I just was not really in the mood.

"Wow, you guys seem really down tonight," the guy said with his strong Irish accent.

"Just having a quiet night at the pub," I responded, with no desire to relate details of my recent work weeks.

The guy continued to blather on about this and that, and I hoped that he wouldn't stick around for a second cigarette.  My buddy introduced me to a German word a couple of years ago that I am quite fond of:  Depp. Der Depp is basically a jerk, a moron, a fool, a dork, or, to get rather vulgar, a complete prick.

The fact that the guy had a big Paul Bunyan type beard was only a small part of the annoyance.  I have a beard myself, but I am not an Abercrombie and Fitch type of guy.  Everyone is entitled to their own style, but his irritated me a lot.  Mono felt the same way, and he quickly finished his beer and took off.  Fortunately, another friend came outside, so I still had some moral support for my last beer of the evening.

Unfortunately, the Depp continued talking, and once he started talking about offshore accounts and ways to avoid taxes (he is a finance guy), I realized that I would be better off going home.  I emptied my glass, paid up, and bid my friend a good evening, then chucked off home.

20 minutes later I received a text message from my friend; the Depp wanted to head off to the red light district in the city.  Again, to each his own, but that is certainly not my thing.

Saturday proved to be a rather quiet day for me, but I wokked myself a little chicken broccoli stir-fry during the afternoon, then I got to thinking about a movie that I had seen several years ago called "This is England."
It is not as if I have been living completely under a rock, but I was unaware that there several mini-series that served as continuation of the story, and I found myself watching several episodes through the course of the evening, and late into the night.

The story itself is great, and the cast and production is equally impressive.  However, what struck me most was the piano soundtrack by Ludovico Einaudi.   His work absolutely floored me, and it has been quite some time that I have been so struck by musical expression.   I learned piano from an early age, but it was Joe Jackson in particular who has had such an influence in what I play.  His work makes me want to continue playing.   Listening to the Alarm and Miles Hunt (the Wonderstuff) made me want to learn guitar, and because of them, I am a strummer.  I never developed the technical ability of a Pete Townshend or Eric Clapton, nor did I ever really have that desire, especially with guitar.  Although those guys are phenomenal in their own right (as was Prince, I might add; I recently listened to a solo he played during "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" which was absolutely incredible), I have preferred the more basic styles, rather more minimalist in approach.

With this composer Einaudi, I find a new influence, which is thrilling.  While watching the films last weekend, I had to stop and take a breath; the music was that expressive.

Knowing that I was due in Madrid for a few days during the coming week, I debated whether or not to order some of the music, since it would likely be delivered while I was out of town.  I finally decided to go on and order a couple of books of his sheet music with the expectation that they would be waiting for me upon my return home from the business trip.

The few days in Madrid were again spent completing some open tasks and saying auf Wiedersehen to some repair partners that I will likely not have to visit any more.  Like with the partner in Germany the previous week, and the visit to my partner on Porto in March, I was a bit sad to be ending my working relationship with the Spanish partners.  I have worked hard to build these relationships, so they are difficult for me let go of, despite my understanding that these changes are always going to happen in business.

I had a little extra time in Barajas to sit and contemplate.  I like the contrast of sitting in a busy airport collecting my thoughts while other travelers are rushing about catching their own flights.  I caught up on the affairs of the world by reading the Economist, and tried not to get too depressed by the state of things in the world (upcoming elections of a bunch of Depps, etc.) but was really looking forward to getting home.  I had already seen that a package was out for delivery, so my music would likely be waiting for me later that evening.

Sure enough, I opened my mailbox to find a nice thick envelope containing my recent purchase.  That arrival was more than enough to keep me from getting to irritated with the other letter that I received from Deutsche Bahn, the one congratulating me on my "recent" renewal of my Bahncard 100.  This is the same Bahncard I cancelled three weeks ago.  Ah well, another "to-do" that I will have to take care of early next week.

So, Thursday evening, Friday afternoon and evening, and again for a couple of hours this morning, I have been sight-reading several new pieces.  One of the great things about playing piano is having the ability to express, and knowing that sometimes the simplicity is all the more moving.  I certainly like composers such as Debussy and Czerny, but in Einaudi, I now have a composer that I can study and learn from.  I am attracted to his expressive style and use of dynamics, and find a real connection in the playing style.  My own feeble efforts will undoubtedly improve, and I look forward to the journey.

One of my favorite compositions is called "Berlin Song."  I have taken to referring to it with an added "...the Frankfurt Mix," for no other reason other than to express that I think it is wonderful that I am an American who is learning pieces composed by an Italian that were on a soundtrack of an English film about skinheads in the Midlands during the 80s, and it makes for a nice connection here in my little corner of Germany.

It works for me, and I can only say "thanks."

See you out there
bryan