Although I consider myself a fan of football, particularly for Arsenal FC, I have not really felt a need to get to the stadium to see matches in person. In the case of Arsenal, they play in a completely different country from where I live, so going to matches with any regularity is certainly not an option. I also happen to be a fan of CF Valencia, and over the years I have managed to get to some matches during visits to my sister and her family. Those matches at Mestalla were always great, but it was a bit of a production to get tickets organized, due in part because neither my sister nor my brother-in-law is a particular football fan. Fortunately, I did know several folks who are fans, and we found the odd ticket going spare for me to use.
I have touched on this over the years since I moved to Frankfurt; I now a have a 3rd soccer team that I root for, most of the time. Because my heart lies mostly with Arsenal, I tend to pay much more attention to the English league, even while living in Germany. That being said, I always keep an eye on the Spanish league, and I certainly am up to scratch on the Bundesliga and how Eintracht are faring. Again, though, just to make this absolutely doodly clear, if there was only one club that I could root for, it would be the Gunners.
The longer I have lived in Frankfurt, the Eintracht and the fans have become more endearing. I have watched countless Eintracht matches on television in various pubs around the city, and each experience is the same. The fans are actively engaged, shouting encouragement, cursing the refs, yelling at the moderator, almost as if they were at the match in person. I know lots of people who regularly go to the stadium for Frankfurt games, and have heard lots of stories about the great atmosphere. Eintracht are an OK team (let's say, mid-table) but can give the particularly passionate fan a lot of reason to get aggravated. True fans of particular sport teams know exactly what this feels like. My cousin in a vocal Kansas City Chiefs fan, I know loads of baseball fans that can comment on that exact moment when something happened in their club's history (prime example is when I moved to Boston in 1996; Red Sox fans were still talking about that "error" from the world series the decade before). And my father remains a die-hard fan of SMU football. Through all the thick and thin.
Most of my German friends are well aware of who I support, and as the world has become smaller, people have more opportunity to see televised matches from other leagues. Since I have lived in Frankfurt, I am amazed at how many Germans all now tend to be just as aware of what is happening in English football as in their own country. Some of German friends even have a English club that they support, very similar to my own situation, in reverse. Even if they don't support a specific club, they still are generally aware of what is going on, or at least have a bit of knowledge, often because they know someone who IS a fan of the club. (Today's post might very well win an award for the most run-on sentences, which I will just have to accept.) My point is, is that a lot of my German friends know I support Arsenal, so they think of me when they see something about Arsenal. It is a mutual thing; I know which friends are Herta supporters, or Gladbach, Bayern, and obviously, Frankfurt.
My world does not revolve around football, but I can certainly discuss the topic at any time. In recent years, I have gotten a little overwhelmed with the scheduling. Nowadays, one can see a televised match almost every day of the week, and I personally think that this is too much. Fortunately, most of my immediate friends feel the same way. With Erik and myself, sure we both can talk Arsenal football, but most often are suddenly talking about other things, culture, films, relationships, whatever.
In fact, I get a little tense when conversing with someone who can only talk about one topic. For example, there is a German guy who likes Arsenal and comes regularly to the pub on match days to watch the game. I am glad that he sits with us, but towards the end of last season, I got the impression that he is unable to expand to other discussion topics. I may sound a little unfair. During televised games, I tend to focus on the game itself, and am not so inclined to want to chat about other things. During the halftime break, it's normal that we discuss how things went in the first half, and what we expect (or need our team to do) in the second half.
But, with this one guy, he can only (or wants only) to talk Arsenal football. He has come to the pub for most of the games this season, and each time he talks about his trip to the Arsenal stadium. It's possible that he has short term memory issues, but for me, I much prefer to chat about other happenings...like "how was your work week last week?", "seen anything interesting in the news?" and various other ways of small talk.
My Monday evenings at the kiosk are great because we talk about a lot of different things. Sure, Teddy and Danny are both lifelong Eintracht fans, and are well aware that I am for Arsenal. As I mentioned above, we have the mutual respect for one another, and know good and well when it is appropriate to bring up the football topic. Inevitably, we will always talk a little football each Monday evening, but then move quickly on to other points. And, the rule is usually, if you know their team had a bad match day, then wait for them to bring it up. Especially in the case of Eintracht and Arsenal, where both teams have demonstrated a rather alarming ability to go off the rails with ridiculous ease. Example - 2 nil up at halftime for Arsenal against Watford, the team who had lost every game of the season so far. Second half, Arsenal fall over, allow Watford to score 2 goals, and almost a 3rd or 4th. Final result - a draw, which felt like a loss.
The following Monday, my Eintracht buddies stayed quiet until I remarked, "Well, yesterday sucked."
Then, we could discuss a little about the matches that had taken place during the previous weekend.
But, all of this is just part of being a fan.
In the past couple of seasons, both clubs have found themselves in a European club tournament, and we have all discussed the what if question, "What if Arsenal and Frankfurt have to play one another?"
Earlier this spring, both Arsenal and Eintracht had advanced to the latter stages of the Europa League, and suddenly, we were all looking at the potential brackets to check the possibility that the two teams would indeed, play one another. One my earlier posts comments on the semi-final of the Europa League, where Arsenal did get through, and Eintracht did not. (Again, the following Monday at the kiosk, we elected to skip the football discussion altogether.)
Because of the way football works, Eintracht had to qualify to play in Europa League this season, which meant that they started playing matches in July, a full month or so before the German league season even started. Meanwhile, Arsenal had done a pretty incredible of job of self-destructing during the latter half of last season, moving out of the dream Champions League positions and just barely managing to finish in a league position that automatically qualified them for Europa League.
Long story short, last month UEFA did the draw for Europa League, and would you believe, Arsenal and Frankfurt got put into the same group for the group phase of the tournament.
That afternoon right after the draw, my mobile chirped nonstop for several hours, as everyone recognized that we finally had this Eintracht-Arsenal match up. Some friends asked me (somewhat naively) who I would be rooting for. Others simply said how cool it was that the teams would finally play each other, and we would perhaps have that opportunity to watch the match in the pub, with a little bit of friendly rivalry.
I have only seen Arsenal play one other time in person, and while that was a dream come true, it is not as if I have felt the urge to race back to Islington. Part of this is due to the performance of the team over the past decade, but most of is due more to the lack of travel companion, and to some extent, the mere expense. Only recently, in the past season or two, have I started thinking about trying to arrange a trip to London to catch a match. Last season as we neared the quarter and semi-finals of the Europa League, some Eintracht friends had discussed a potential visit, should the two clubs be drawn together. In the end, we didn't have to worry about it.
With the draw for this season's Europa League, the group phase involves home and away matches. Thus, Arsenal will play Eintracht in London later on this fall. My holidays are already booked, so it is 99% likely that I will not even try to get over to London for the match.
Meanwhile, the first leg would take place in Frankfurt. In fact, I did not even consider trying to purchase tickets to the match. I assumed that I would simply walk over to the pub and watch the game with Erik and our London stadium visiting buddy, along with any other straggling Gunner fans that might come to the pub. (There are actually a handful or two of Arsenal fans floating around Frankfurt.)
Because of schedules, work travel and vacation, neither Teddy nor Danny had been present on Kiosk Abend for the past few weeks. So, we had not a chance to talk about the upcoming fixture.
So, when I got a text message early in September from Mono saying that he had a match ticket for me, I was totally surprised. "Hell yes, I want to go!" I responded, and quickly tried to clear my mind of any work related things might complicate my opportunity. We are just starting a new chaotic project in Germany, and at any moment I may have to jump in a train to go the repair partner; I was wary of this during the past weeks.
When I did talk to Mono one evening, he mentioned that his brother-in-law Danny, Eintracht fan and a member of the Kiosk group, was in Spain on holiday and would not be coming back until the end of the month, thus missing the match in Frankfurt. Danny had offered his tickets to Mono, and Mono, who is not really a football fan, thought of me, the Arsenal guy.
I was really grateful for the opportunity, and was (and am still) surprised. How cool is this?
A week later, Mono told me that he had the physical ticket for me, and then went on to say that he had a second ticket available, and did Erik want to go?
Of course Erik wanted to go.
As it happened, I was standing with Mono in the pub with the tickets, and Erik was already on the way to the pub just for a midweek beer. Upon his arrival, we looked at the tickets together, got kind of excited, and then I put the tickets back in my pocket for safekeeping, not before several other patrons had glimpsed them. Suddenly, everyone wanted to have a beer with me, and I had to explain that the tickets were already spoken for.
Well, this put things in a cool perspective. Suddenly, I had something to look forward during the work week. Last weekend, I had a beer with a couple of other friends, including a couple of Eintracht Ultras. In fact, my one other visit to Eintracht stadium was for a friendly match several years ago between Eintracht and Valencia. My Ultra friend organized that afternoon, which included a large quantity of beer; people are still talking about that day, as rarely do people in Bornheim see a Bryan that has had a marathon beer session. But that is another story...
So, my Ultra buddy and I agreed that we would ride to the Waldstadion together this past Thursday. Erik would meet us at the stadium, as would Teddy, who actually would be sitting right next to us in our section.
Thursday was a rather hellish work day, and suddenly at 17h I was scrambling to get out of my flat and head to the little meeting point. I had my pre-match jitters as I walked to a little pub to meet the friends. We had a quick beer before jumping in a taxi to head to the stadium. Waldstadion, as it is affectionately known (despite it's official name), is truly in a little forest, hence it's name.
There is literally no parking lot associated with the grounds. There are a couple of tram and strassenbahn stops, which is fairly standard for European stadiums.
My friends helped the taxi driver with the quickest route to the stadium, as they know this route better than just about anybody. During our ride, we discussed SUVs and how much gasoline they consume and how they are hurting the environment (see? we talk about all kinds of things). We encountered a bit of traffic, but made decent time and arrived about 45 minutes before kickoff. Plenty of time to get through security and get to our seats.
I found Erik, and we went through the little security check point, then walked through the little forest to the stadium. The game was sold out, as are most Eintracht games, and as one can imagine, hardly an Arsenal fan in sight. This was going to be a slightly touchy subject. Because we were using the tickets of an Eintracht season ticket holder, we were going to be sitting smack in the middle of the Eintracht fans. Though we have our moments, neither Erik nor myself is so inclined to be a wild crazy fan in the middle of the opponent section. Sure, we have both yelled at the television set during matches, and it is pretty clear where our hearts lie when it comes to team support. That being said, we had already agreed not to do anything silly or disrespectful, especially while sitting with the home fans.
Truth be told, Teddy was well aware that Erik and I were both supporting Arsenal, but it was a good section to sit in, and no one was about to make any issue. Had we been sitting with Alio in the Ultra section, it might not have been quite the same story, but overall, Eintracht fans are passionate, and respectful.
Ultimately, I just wanted to see a good football game, as did Erik. As did the other 46998 people in attendance.
One of the great things about German football is the fan support. The passion exists everywhere. Inside the stadium, the atmosphere was overwhelming. Absolutely fantastic.
When the Eintracht team were announced, the man on the P.A. would say the first name of the player, and then EVERY single Eintracht in the stadium (which was about 45K of the 47K in attendance) shouted the last name of the player. Amazing. I almost started shouting their names, too. You can't help but get caught up in the excitement.
Our seats were excellent, and quite near the Ultra section, which takes up one end of the stadium. Their constant chanting and singing, flags flying everywhere creates a very daunting place for a visiting team to play.
Eintracht started the match much much better than Arsenal, and very quickly had created a lot more chances on goal. This was a bit frustrating for both sets of fans. For Eintracht, they simply couldn't convert their chances, and for Arsenal, we kept getting lucky to avoid going behind by a goal or two.
In the 38th minute, a young Arsenal midfielder took a shot on goal, that sort of defected off a defender and fluked into the goal. It was a surprise to everyone in the stadium, as it looked harmless enough. I actually kind of chuckled, because it was borderline ridiculous, but that is how it can be in football. A goal counts. No matter if it is a brilliant goal with style, or simply a goofy fluke.
I kind of looked at Teddy sheepishly, almost feeling apologetic for the goal. Eintracht deserved to be ahead in the game.
At half time, most of the fans needed to head to the facilities so as to address the call of nature. A noticeable difference between football and other spectator sports like American football or basketball is the opportunity for a potty break. At your basic football match, you have (in this case, a full stadium) a bunch of fans who have consumed on average 2 to 3 beers already, and have stood for 45 minutes during the actual playing of the match.
Finally, there is a break, so everyone heads to the toilets at once. If one is lucky, they don't have to stand in line too long, and have a decent chance of relieving themselves, then jumping in the beverage line for another round of beers. This is pretty much what Erik and I did, and by the time we got our beers, the 2nd half had already started.
It is kind of interesting to see, though. A full stadium is suddenly empty (or half empty) for 15 minutes, then everyone is back in their seat watching the game.
In the second half, Arsenal started playing a little better, but still continued to allow Eintracht their share of chances on goal. As the game continued, Eintracht got more and more frustrated, but could not get their act together. Despite having more possession and more shots on goal, they conceded two more goals rather late in the game, so Arsenal finished as winners 3-0.
It was kind of a strange feeling being in the stadium, especially sitting with friends who support Eintracht. I did not feel inclined to celebrate the Arsenal goals, though I was certainly cheering a bit inside. As pleased as I was with the result, I really felt for the Eintracht fans. Again, so much passion all in the same place is an incredible thing to experience.
We left just before full time, in order to sort of beat the crowds. Normally this is not something I like to do, but we were sharing a ride with the same guys I'd come with, so we followed their lead. Outside the stadium, as we met up again to grab a homeward bound taxi, we shook hands and Erik and I accepted the win and gracious congratulations from the Ultras. A couple of minutes before, as we were walking back through the woods from the stadium, Erik and I already agreed that we were really pleased with the result, and not only that, it was our first time to actually see Arsenal win a match in person.
Back in the taxi, we did discuss the match (as one would expect) on the way back to a little pub in Nordend, then had a couple of beers with everyone. We started talking about different cultures and other bits, and once again I found it cool that all of us sitting at the table, all of which had just been in the stadium, were now talking about other things outside of football. It made for a great evening.
When it was time to head home, we walked back to the U-Bahn stop, and I got back to Bornheim, where I peeked in to the pub for the last couple of minutes of the quiz night. I ran into several folks who had watched the Eintracht on television, and of course, they knew who I had supported. Again, I remained a little quiet; I know how it feels when your team doesn't win, and it is never the right time to rub it in. Not that I even wanted to.
Most folks had already gotten over the loss (just like the Ultras a few minutes before from the other pub) and we just continued on with our evening. I chatted with a few other friends before heading home.
I checked my texts as I was getting into bed. Sure enough, Chris had already left another message saying, "you've got to be feeling great, eh?"
Absolutely.
see you out there
bryan
Saturday, September 21, 2019
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Fun With Condiments and Other Epiphanies
It is always nice to get something for free, and if you get to learn from the experience, that's just an extra bonus.
And I feel like I am a better person for it.
Things started innocently enough on Wednesday evening. Work has been rather hectic in recent days, and midweek was no different; I headed over to the pub for a bit just to clear my head. A few regulars were already standing at the bar, while the patio was unusually full due to the lingering summerlike temperatures. I stood at the bar with my friends and we chatted randomly as the landlord unboxed a crate of what turned out to be little jars of marmalade, sticky onion marmalade, to be specific.
Promotions in the pub are always kind of fun, and I always accept whatever freebies are on offer. Thus, I have really useless things lying around the house like umpteen little stress-relief squeezy rugby balls, various keychains with flashlights that don't work, and a couple of bottle openers. The bottle opener is actually quite helpful, especially since I never have gotten to be proficient at opening bottles in the creative German ways. Normally such promotions require the recipient to consume a certain amount of beverages before they get a little prize. (Once, in London, Chris and I had to drink 8 beers in order for him to get a t-shirt, and if he has worn that shirt more than once in the past 10 years, I would be surprised)
I always think of that Saturday afternoon when faced with new opportunities to receive a little prize. The aftermath of that afternoon cost me quite a bit in brain cells, so my standard rule is to refuse to consume any quantity of anything in order to receive such prize. Fortunately, the landlord has also understood this through the years, so as he unboxed the crate, he slid a few jars of this marmalade to those of standing at the bar watching him. No need for each of us to drink 4 pints of Guinness.
To be clear, we were all thankful for the small gift, then we all struggled to read the fine print on the label to find out exactly what we had just received. For me, I think of putting marmalade (usually orange) on toast in the mornings for breakfast. Sticky onion marmalade did not prompt such thought, and of course, the obvious question arose almost immediately. What the hell does this taste like?
I solved the mystery simply by opening up my jar and sticking a pinky in, just to get a little taste. I offered my jar to the others to sample, and we all stood there for a few seconds trying to come up with the right descriptive words.
The general consensus was that it tasted okay, but no one had the perfect idea as to what to use the marmalade with. Ideally, it would be used with some sort of meat, and this is logical because the marmalade tastes pretty much like cold caramelized onions. For those American readers who are familiar with that grungy onion stuff that gets left over on the sizzling fajita platter at any sports bar (or some of the more Tex-Mex restaurants, like On the Border), it's like that stuff was put into a little jar and prepped to be used as a condiment.
If that is your thing, then you will definitely like this sticky onion marmalade.
A few other patrons came in the pub after work, noticed several of us standing at the bar with pint glasses in front of us, next to little jars of marmalade, and of course, they wanted a jar, too. Likewise, they asked, "What does it taste like?" at which point I would hold out my jar for them to sample.
This went on for about the next 2 hours, during which time the general conversation topic turned to cooking. Several of my friends are handy in the kitchen, and this was certainly not the first time we have stood around discussing various ingredients or types of food. (The previous week we had debated the ideal cheese to go on top of a hamburger.) What is kind of cool is that everyone seems to have a slightly different area of expertise, so my Mexican-American friend can talk about the finer points of proper Mexican cooking, another guy goes once a month to France to purchase cheese and other stuff, and a few others are simply really knowledgeable on all fronts. It makes for a nice mix.
Well, eventually condiments entered the discussion, partially because of the number of marmalade jars sitting on the bar, and then someone mentioned horseradish. This was always a sort of special condiment in our house when I was growing up. It was used from time to time, but mostly the little jar sat ignored in the tray on the door of the refrigerator, along with the other condiments.
Although I am quite familiar with horseradish, I never used it so much. If anything, I would use wasabi with Asian dishes, but it is not as if I buy wasabi to have in the tray on the door of my refrigerator. In Germany, horseradish is used a lot more often. I first discovered this when I was at a local Apfelweinkneipe, and there was a little portion of horseradish next to another similarly colored item on my plate. The restaurant was dimly lit, and I just scooped something onto my fork and was rather surprised when my sinuses started dancing like they about to win a contest.
That particular day was the first day that I learned the German word for horseradish, Meerrettich.
Again, this is not a condiment that I regularly used, and once I knew how to be on the lookout for hidden plops of the stuff on my plate, I just accepted things and got on with it. To be clear, I do like horseradish, but like with really strong mustard, a little goes a long way. Wasabi, too, for that matter.
So, the word Meerrettich has been a part of my German vocabulary, but like the actual product, it goes mostly unused. Several years ago, I did have some sort of craving for it, and spent 30 minutes looking for the product in the grocery store. (For the answers to the questions like, "why the hell didn't you ask somebody?" see one of my previous posts about how much fun you can have in a supermarket exploring the aisles or on how to be a complete stubborn male and refuse to ask for help)
Contrary to logic, said Meerrettich was not in the condiment aisle as I would have expected, but in a small little miscellaneous shelf. I finally found it that day, and made a note to myself of the location for that next time (in another 5 years) when I might actually need some.
Pause while I humbly concede that I had expected to find a huge section of various condiments in the grocery store, and to some extent that is true: there are multiple shelves of different types of mustard. However, the assortment is minimal in comparison to an American grocery store. I had simply assumed to find a certain shelf in the market with horseradish because of my experiences of finding such a product on aisle 13 of Alberton's or Tom Thumb. I forgot that a lot of people make their stuff fresh, by simply buying the ingredient, in this case from actual plant root. The realization was kind of like when I first found out what a nutmeg looks like.
This all brings me to the point on Wednesday evening when I found out that for the last 10 years (since I first learned the word Meerrettich) I have been mispronouncing the word. Colassally.
First, I will extend my thanks to my friend who helped me learn how to pronounce the word properly.
Now, we will dive in to the details. German is a complicated language, for sure. One umlaut separates the word for humid and homosexual. Get that wrong, and the context of what you are saying can create a reaction not unlike some unsuspecting soul eating horseradish for the first time in their life.
For me, I had pushed through the intimidation of so many double letters in the same word and focused on the word Meer, which is the word for ocean or sea. To a native speaker, the pronunciation of Meer is noticeably different from the word mehr (more). To a plonker like myself, the difference is a little more subtle. (See the paragraph above, I cannot tell you the number of times that I have loudly exclaimed, "what a gay day," when complaining about the muggy temperature outside)
Likewise, the plural of Meer is Meere, and in the grammar rules of German, there are certain ways that you have to align the endings of adjectives. Thus, one might say from time to time "mehrer" or something similar when talking about "more." Those two words, to me, do not sound too different, and usually it is context that helps one grasp the meaning. Same thing with the pronunciation of -tich, which can sound remarkably similar to the word Tisch, which is the German word for table. At least, in my world.
All this time, I have basically (albeit infrequently) been bastardizing the word and saying something like Mehrer Tisch, which means absolute nothing, but a kind, understanding German might accept that utterance as "more tables." Using my logic, I have simply thought, "sure, we can say more tables or possibly sea tables when referring to horseradish, since why the hell is it called HORSEradish in the first place?"
Wednesday evening, Mono quietly told me the German word for radish, Rettich.
Oh.
So, back to the word with a little background explanation, I can clearly see Meer and Rettich.
Sea Radish.
I know, it doesn't make any more sense than Horse Radish, but there you go.
Even had I learned the German words for random vegetables that I have spent a lifetime trying to avoid (more on broccoli, peas, Brussels sprouts, and asparagus later) eating, I don't think I would have made the connection with Radish and Rettich as part of the word for horse radish.
Mono additionally reminded me of a couple of basic grammar rules when breaking down compound words, but I think this is what initially threw me: there were too many sets of double letters in the word Meerrettich.
Now, to spare myself further embarrassment in today's post, I will refrain from describing how I have been mispronouncing the word umgebung these past years.
Likewise, I am going to save my comments and thoughts about why I still tend to like the teenage movies that are being broadcast on Netflix, all of which seem to be direct copies of the typical John Hughes films from 35 years ago.
Fortunately, my sinuses are clear, so it's time to get out and enjoy the rest of the day.
see you out there
bryan
And I feel like I am a better person for it.
Things started innocently enough on Wednesday evening. Work has been rather hectic in recent days, and midweek was no different; I headed over to the pub for a bit just to clear my head. A few regulars were already standing at the bar, while the patio was unusually full due to the lingering summerlike temperatures. I stood at the bar with my friends and we chatted randomly as the landlord unboxed a crate of what turned out to be little jars of marmalade, sticky onion marmalade, to be specific.
Promotions in the pub are always kind of fun, and I always accept whatever freebies are on offer. Thus, I have really useless things lying around the house like umpteen little stress-relief squeezy rugby balls, various keychains with flashlights that don't work, and a couple of bottle openers. The bottle opener is actually quite helpful, especially since I never have gotten to be proficient at opening bottles in the creative German ways. Normally such promotions require the recipient to consume a certain amount of beverages before they get a little prize. (Once, in London, Chris and I had to drink 8 beers in order for him to get a t-shirt, and if he has worn that shirt more than once in the past 10 years, I would be surprised)
I always think of that Saturday afternoon when faced with new opportunities to receive a little prize. The aftermath of that afternoon cost me quite a bit in brain cells, so my standard rule is to refuse to consume any quantity of anything in order to receive such prize. Fortunately, the landlord has also understood this through the years, so as he unboxed the crate, he slid a few jars of this marmalade to those of standing at the bar watching him. No need for each of us to drink 4 pints of Guinness.
To be clear, we were all thankful for the small gift, then we all struggled to read the fine print on the label to find out exactly what we had just received. For me, I think of putting marmalade (usually orange) on toast in the mornings for breakfast. Sticky onion marmalade did not prompt such thought, and of course, the obvious question arose almost immediately. What the hell does this taste like?
I solved the mystery simply by opening up my jar and sticking a pinky in, just to get a little taste. I offered my jar to the others to sample, and we all stood there for a few seconds trying to come up with the right descriptive words.
The general consensus was that it tasted okay, but no one had the perfect idea as to what to use the marmalade with. Ideally, it would be used with some sort of meat, and this is logical because the marmalade tastes pretty much like cold caramelized onions. For those American readers who are familiar with that grungy onion stuff that gets left over on the sizzling fajita platter at any sports bar (or some of the more Tex-Mex restaurants, like On the Border), it's like that stuff was put into a little jar and prepped to be used as a condiment.
If that is your thing, then you will definitely like this sticky onion marmalade.
A few other patrons came in the pub after work, noticed several of us standing at the bar with pint glasses in front of us, next to little jars of marmalade, and of course, they wanted a jar, too. Likewise, they asked, "What does it taste like?" at which point I would hold out my jar for them to sample.
This went on for about the next 2 hours, during which time the general conversation topic turned to cooking. Several of my friends are handy in the kitchen, and this was certainly not the first time we have stood around discussing various ingredients or types of food. (The previous week we had debated the ideal cheese to go on top of a hamburger.) What is kind of cool is that everyone seems to have a slightly different area of expertise, so my Mexican-American friend can talk about the finer points of proper Mexican cooking, another guy goes once a month to France to purchase cheese and other stuff, and a few others are simply really knowledgeable on all fronts. It makes for a nice mix.
Well, eventually condiments entered the discussion, partially because of the number of marmalade jars sitting on the bar, and then someone mentioned horseradish. This was always a sort of special condiment in our house when I was growing up. It was used from time to time, but mostly the little jar sat ignored in the tray on the door of the refrigerator, along with the other condiments.
Although I am quite familiar with horseradish, I never used it so much. If anything, I would use wasabi with Asian dishes, but it is not as if I buy wasabi to have in the tray on the door of my refrigerator. In Germany, horseradish is used a lot more often. I first discovered this when I was at a local Apfelweinkneipe, and there was a little portion of horseradish next to another similarly colored item on my plate. The restaurant was dimly lit, and I just scooped something onto my fork and was rather surprised when my sinuses started dancing like they about to win a contest.
That particular day was the first day that I learned the German word for horseradish, Meerrettich.
Again, this is not a condiment that I regularly used, and once I knew how to be on the lookout for hidden plops of the stuff on my plate, I just accepted things and got on with it. To be clear, I do like horseradish, but like with really strong mustard, a little goes a long way. Wasabi, too, for that matter.
So, the word Meerrettich has been a part of my German vocabulary, but like the actual product, it goes mostly unused. Several years ago, I did have some sort of craving for it, and spent 30 minutes looking for the product in the grocery store. (For the answers to the questions like, "why the hell didn't you ask somebody?" see one of my previous posts about how much fun you can have in a supermarket exploring the aisles or on how to be a complete stubborn male and refuse to ask for help)
Contrary to logic, said Meerrettich was not in the condiment aisle as I would have expected, but in a small little miscellaneous shelf. I finally found it that day, and made a note to myself of the location for that next time (in another 5 years) when I might actually need some.
Pause while I humbly concede that I had expected to find a huge section of various condiments in the grocery store, and to some extent that is true: there are multiple shelves of different types of mustard. However, the assortment is minimal in comparison to an American grocery store. I had simply assumed to find a certain shelf in the market with horseradish because of my experiences of finding such a product on aisle 13 of Alberton's or Tom Thumb. I forgot that a lot of people make their stuff fresh, by simply buying the ingredient, in this case from actual plant root. The realization was kind of like when I first found out what a nutmeg looks like.
This all brings me to the point on Wednesday evening when I found out that for the last 10 years (since I first learned the word Meerrettich) I have been mispronouncing the word. Colassally.
First, I will extend my thanks to my friend who helped me learn how to pronounce the word properly.
Now, we will dive in to the details. German is a complicated language, for sure. One umlaut separates the word for humid and homosexual. Get that wrong, and the context of what you are saying can create a reaction not unlike some unsuspecting soul eating horseradish for the first time in their life.
For me, I had pushed through the intimidation of so many double letters in the same word and focused on the word Meer, which is the word for ocean or sea. To a native speaker, the pronunciation of Meer is noticeably different from the word mehr (more). To a plonker like myself, the difference is a little more subtle. (See the paragraph above, I cannot tell you the number of times that I have loudly exclaimed, "what a gay day," when complaining about the muggy temperature outside)
Likewise, the plural of Meer is Meere, and in the grammar rules of German, there are certain ways that you have to align the endings of adjectives. Thus, one might say from time to time "mehrer" or something similar when talking about "more." Those two words, to me, do not sound too different, and usually it is context that helps one grasp the meaning. Same thing with the pronunciation of -tich, which can sound remarkably similar to the word Tisch, which is the German word for table. At least, in my world.
All this time, I have basically (albeit infrequently) been bastardizing the word and saying something like Mehrer Tisch, which means absolute nothing, but a kind, understanding German might accept that utterance as "more tables." Using my logic, I have simply thought, "sure, we can say more tables or possibly sea tables when referring to horseradish, since why the hell is it called HORSEradish in the first place?"
Wednesday evening, Mono quietly told me the German word for radish, Rettich.
Oh.
So, back to the word with a little background explanation, I can clearly see Meer and Rettich.
Sea Radish.
I know, it doesn't make any more sense than Horse Radish, but there you go.
Even had I learned the German words for random vegetables that I have spent a lifetime trying to avoid (more on broccoli, peas, Brussels sprouts, and asparagus later) eating, I don't think I would have made the connection with Radish and Rettich as part of the word for horse radish.
Mono additionally reminded me of a couple of basic grammar rules when breaking down compound words, but I think this is what initially threw me: there were too many sets of double letters in the word Meerrettich.
Now, to spare myself further embarrassment in today's post, I will refrain from describing how I have been mispronouncing the word umgebung these past years.
Likewise, I am going to save my comments and thoughts about why I still tend to like the teenage movies that are being broadcast on Netflix, all of which seem to be direct copies of the typical John Hughes films from 35 years ago.
Fortunately, my sinuses are clear, so it's time to get out and enjoy the rest of the day.
see you out there
bryan
Sunday, September 08, 2019
Road Trips, Squats, and Plops
About this time last Sunday, I was racing around my flat getting ready for a business trip. Despite my preparation lists that I had made, I had procrastinated just a wee bit. Thus, I was feeling some pressure to get everything done before my colleague arrived to pick me up and drive us to Flensburg.
It was a warm day, so I had a pretty good sweat going as I mopped the floors one last time (to ensure my colleague saw a tidy flat) and double-checked to confirm that my suitcase contained enough clothes for the week, and that my backpack had all my stuff. Due to travel constraints within our company, I have not done business travel with any regularity in quite some time, and I was feeling a little out of practice.
But I felt excited. I was ready to get on the road again.
The purpose of the trip was to host our Chinese customer at our German repair partner. The customer would provide technical training to the repair team, the supply chain representative would help get the materials and ordering system process set up, and my colleague and I would be holding everything together, including setting up the overall after sales process with the customer and the partner. I knew it would be a pretty intensive few days, but first, we had to get to the repair site in Flensburg.
My Austrian colleague had departed his house early Sunday morning, so had already driven for six hours before arriving at my place. When he arrived, I made us a couple of espressos and we talked about the upcoming fun we were about to have. My colleague and I have worked together a lot over the past years, but as our company set up tends to isolate us, we had not seen each other face to face in four or five years. It was good to see him again.
I was excited about the next few days, and what that would bring, but I was also really enthusiastic about traveling through Germany by car. I have no license, so am unable to drive in the country, and as much as I enjoy the train service, my opportunities to ride in a car are rather limited.
There is nothing particularly interesting about the landscape between Frankfurt and our destination six hours north. Flensburg is the most northern city in the country, about four miles from the Danish border. Still, there is always something to look at when sitting the passenger seat of the car. I tend to always play the famous track by Kraftwerk in my head when riding in a car in Germany, which, as I have mentioned, is rather infrequent.
Fortunately, traffic was not too heavy, and we drove north with sunny skies. After a couple of hours, we stopped for our first coffee and ciggy break. We both commented on our appreciation for how much rest stops have progressed in the past decades. In the past, one might encounter a really unpleasant restroom facility, along with some antiquated vending machines. Now days, there is a proper little self serve cafe, clean restrooms (and hell yes, I gladly pay a euro for their upkeep), and best of all, a proper espresso bar.
The temperatures were steadily dropping over the course of the afternoon, and this was also welcome. I am really ready for autumn to come on strong.
Our second stop was just before Hamburg; the coffee was still good, the temperature delightfully cool, and it was a decent way to spend an afternoon, albeit it that the travel requirement meant that the weekend was cut short.
Although we chatted for most of the drive about various topics, we did have some lull in conversation, during which time I played the license plate game. As a child traveling across the states by car on family vacations, I would always look for other license plates from out of state. For example, if we were in Wyoming, it would be neat to see a license plate from somewhere like Vermont, just because of the distance.
My version of the game in Germany is slightly different, although I did enjoy seeing several other plates from other EU countries. In Germany, the license plate format shows which city or district the car is registered in, and obviously the largest cities only have one letter: F for Frankfurt, B for Berlin, K for Köln, etc. What was not so clear to me are the codes for the other, smaller districts. I just read (five seconds ago) that the smaller the district, the more letters are used. Thus, a large city like Berlin has a one letter code, while a small district will likely have three letters, like MTK (Main-Taunus-Kreis, which is part of the Frankfurt metro area, but contains nine little towns, all to the west of Frankfurt.
At any rate, I quickly discovered that I did not know too many of the districts, but reminded myself that once, when traveling with some German friends about 10 years ago, we had played the same game, and they did not know that many districts, either. Of course, why would you really need to know each and every district code, outside of that one day in the future when the question pops up during a pub quiz?
Playing the license plate game took my mind off of the numerous questions I had about the upcoming tasks of the project, and was a great way to relax. Furthermore, it distracted me from the stiffness that was setting in to my legs from sitting too long in the car. Just a few days before, I had started a new challenge for leg training, where I do daily squats. With day 1, you start with 50 squats, then increase each day by 5 reps, pausing every fourth day. Then, you jump by 20, and follow that pattern through an entire month. Although I have regularly done leg training over the past months, this new challenge was upping the ante; my legs were certainly feeling it, and as we got closer and closer to Flensburg, I was more and more ready to get there so I could have a chance to loosen up.
Indeed, we arrived to Flensburg around 8pm. We checked into our hotel, and I phoned my grandmother to wish her a happy 103 birthday, then we grabbed a quick dinner at cafe. It had been a long day for me, and even longer for my colleague, so we went to bed soon after dinner.
Well, the next few days were long and intense. Anyone who has gone through workshops or had extended business meetings with customers can easily relate. Add in a little bit of a language barrier, and by day's end, you are mentally exhausted.
Thankfully, we were in Flensburg, a nice little city that happens to brew one fantastic beer. By a small stroke of luck, our Chinese customers had brought their wives on the trip, so instead of having to socialize and entertain during the evening, we were left to do our own thing. The customers preferred to do their own thing. I know that there will be other times in the future when this will not be the case, so I enjoyed the down time.
Flensburg sits right at the innermost tip of the fjord (Flensburger Förde), and again, I have to make the comment that you just cannot go wrong with having a city on the water. The waterfront has several little restaurants and cafes, including a local brewery that served great food and beverage. I have known this restaurant since my colleague introduced me to it about seven years ago. Since my last visit to Flensburg was in early 2016, I was feeling long over due.
In fact, we ended up eating their three times during the next few days. As my colleague said at the end of each working day, "Ja, Ich glaub's, wir haben ein Bierchen verdient." (we deserve a beer).
Throughout most of Germany, the weather had turned a lot cooler from the beginning of September, and in Flensburg, being right on the water, we had our share of rain. Each day it would rain for a little bit, then the sun would come out for fifteen minutes, then it would rain again.
Wednesday morning, before we headed to the repair site, we looked at the sunny sky and said, "Today looks like we will avoid any rain."
That was true up until five pm, when we wrapped up our meetings with the repair partner. We had initially planned to stay until Thursday lunchtime before driving back south, but we realized that we had covered all the topics. I will regularly visit Flensburg in the coming months, anyway, so there was no real need to extend our stay. Besides, getting an earlier start on our long drive home was a positive.
First, however, we had our last evening (of the trip) in Flensburg. We decided to walk through the town to look for another place to eat, but when the rain started pounding down (making up for the sunny day), we elected to return one last time to the brewery. Afterwards, we stood outside and watched it continue to bucket down, thinking that the rain might let up, allowing us to get back to the parking garage 10 minutes away. In the end, we sucked it up, got soaked, and cursed whoever said something like "run between the rain drops."
We had parked in the garage of the shopping center, which was at the other end of the town where our restaurant was located. Dripping wet, we entered the shopping center to see if there was a cafe that served espresso. A hot beverage sounded like a good idea, but alas, Flensburg shuts down around 8pm. The shopping mall was not huge by any means, but it did have two cafes, both of which were closing just as we walked up to them. As a last resort, I let my colleague talk me into going to the McDonald's ("Bryan, the McCafe does ok in a pinch.")
Well, either the employee did not know what he was doing, or it wasn't a McCafe. I am not really sure what a McCafe is anyway, but no matter. It was simply McShit.
Yes, I can be a bit of a coffee snob, and the fact is, when espresso is not done right, it tastes horrible. I should have known better and simply skipped the coffee, but hey ho. At least the beer we had consumed over the past days had been exceptional.
Thursday morning, the rain continued, which made our departure from Flensburg a little more tedious. No one likes to drive in a rainstorm, and certainly not for six hours, but by mid-morning, the rain had subsided. Unfortunately, we encountered some hefty traffic, delaying us by about an hour. Thankfully, the espresso bars at the rest stops were functioning well, and we arrived back to Frankfurt around 5pm. My colleague did not stick around, as he still had another long drive ahead of him.
All in all, the week had gone pretty well. I was glad to be back at home, and spent a couple of hours at the pub catching up on local stuff with friends I had not seen in a few days. A lot can happen in Bornheim, you know. Sometimes if you blink, you miss it.
Friday was a normal home office work day for me, and like usual, I took time in the afternoon to skype with my father, who had just gotten back from a trip to Alaska. I was glad to catch up with him and hear how much he enjoyed seeing a part of the world he had never been to before.
Now, it is Sunday afternoon, and I am enjoying the last bit of a two day weekend. The cool temperatures are settling in nicely, I am getting the daily leg routine in with fervor (it feels so good when I am done), and the working week will be here soon enough. My beer bottle may not make such a cool sound when I open it, but that's ok. I'll get back up to have a Flens soon enough.
Plop.
see you out there
bryan
It was a warm day, so I had a pretty good sweat going as I mopped the floors one last time (to ensure my colleague saw a tidy flat) and double-checked to confirm that my suitcase contained enough clothes for the week, and that my backpack had all my stuff. Due to travel constraints within our company, I have not done business travel with any regularity in quite some time, and I was feeling a little out of practice.
But I felt excited. I was ready to get on the road again.
The purpose of the trip was to host our Chinese customer at our German repair partner. The customer would provide technical training to the repair team, the supply chain representative would help get the materials and ordering system process set up, and my colleague and I would be holding everything together, including setting up the overall after sales process with the customer and the partner. I knew it would be a pretty intensive few days, but first, we had to get to the repair site in Flensburg.
My Austrian colleague had departed his house early Sunday morning, so had already driven for six hours before arriving at my place. When he arrived, I made us a couple of espressos and we talked about the upcoming fun we were about to have. My colleague and I have worked together a lot over the past years, but as our company set up tends to isolate us, we had not seen each other face to face in four or five years. It was good to see him again.
I was excited about the next few days, and what that would bring, but I was also really enthusiastic about traveling through Germany by car. I have no license, so am unable to drive in the country, and as much as I enjoy the train service, my opportunities to ride in a car are rather limited.
There is nothing particularly interesting about the landscape between Frankfurt and our destination six hours north. Flensburg is the most northern city in the country, about four miles from the Danish border. Still, there is always something to look at when sitting the passenger seat of the car. I tend to always play the famous track by Kraftwerk in my head when riding in a car in Germany, which, as I have mentioned, is rather infrequent.
Fortunately, traffic was not too heavy, and we drove north with sunny skies. After a couple of hours, we stopped for our first coffee and ciggy break. We both commented on our appreciation for how much rest stops have progressed in the past decades. In the past, one might encounter a really unpleasant restroom facility, along with some antiquated vending machines. Now days, there is a proper little self serve cafe, clean restrooms (and hell yes, I gladly pay a euro for their upkeep), and best of all, a proper espresso bar.
The temperatures were steadily dropping over the course of the afternoon, and this was also welcome. I am really ready for autumn to come on strong.
Our second stop was just before Hamburg; the coffee was still good, the temperature delightfully cool, and it was a decent way to spend an afternoon, albeit it that the travel requirement meant that the weekend was cut short.
Although we chatted for most of the drive about various topics, we did have some lull in conversation, during which time I played the license plate game. As a child traveling across the states by car on family vacations, I would always look for other license plates from out of state. For example, if we were in Wyoming, it would be neat to see a license plate from somewhere like Vermont, just because of the distance.
My version of the game in Germany is slightly different, although I did enjoy seeing several other plates from other EU countries. In Germany, the license plate format shows which city or district the car is registered in, and obviously the largest cities only have one letter: F for Frankfurt, B for Berlin, K for Köln, etc. What was not so clear to me are the codes for the other, smaller districts. I just read (five seconds ago) that the smaller the district, the more letters are used. Thus, a large city like Berlin has a one letter code, while a small district will likely have three letters, like MTK (Main-Taunus-Kreis, which is part of the Frankfurt metro area, but contains nine little towns, all to the west of Frankfurt.
At any rate, I quickly discovered that I did not know too many of the districts, but reminded myself that once, when traveling with some German friends about 10 years ago, we had played the same game, and they did not know that many districts, either. Of course, why would you really need to know each and every district code, outside of that one day in the future when the question pops up during a pub quiz?
Playing the license plate game took my mind off of the numerous questions I had about the upcoming tasks of the project, and was a great way to relax. Furthermore, it distracted me from the stiffness that was setting in to my legs from sitting too long in the car. Just a few days before, I had started a new challenge for leg training, where I do daily squats. With day 1, you start with 50 squats, then increase each day by 5 reps, pausing every fourth day. Then, you jump by 20, and follow that pattern through an entire month. Although I have regularly done leg training over the past months, this new challenge was upping the ante; my legs were certainly feeling it, and as we got closer and closer to Flensburg, I was more and more ready to get there so I could have a chance to loosen up.
Indeed, we arrived to Flensburg around 8pm. We checked into our hotel, and I phoned my grandmother to wish her a happy 103 birthday, then we grabbed a quick dinner at cafe. It had been a long day for me, and even longer for my colleague, so we went to bed soon after dinner.
Well, the next few days were long and intense. Anyone who has gone through workshops or had extended business meetings with customers can easily relate. Add in a little bit of a language barrier, and by day's end, you are mentally exhausted.
Thankfully, we were in Flensburg, a nice little city that happens to brew one fantastic beer. By a small stroke of luck, our Chinese customers had brought their wives on the trip, so instead of having to socialize and entertain during the evening, we were left to do our own thing. The customers preferred to do their own thing. I know that there will be other times in the future when this will not be the case, so I enjoyed the down time.
Flensburg sits right at the innermost tip of the fjord (Flensburger Förde), and again, I have to make the comment that you just cannot go wrong with having a city on the water. The waterfront has several little restaurants and cafes, including a local brewery that served great food and beverage. I have known this restaurant since my colleague introduced me to it about seven years ago. Since my last visit to Flensburg was in early 2016, I was feeling long over due.
In fact, we ended up eating their three times during the next few days. As my colleague said at the end of each working day, "Ja, Ich glaub's, wir haben ein Bierchen verdient." (we deserve a beer).
Throughout most of Germany, the weather had turned a lot cooler from the beginning of September, and in Flensburg, being right on the water, we had our share of rain. Each day it would rain for a little bit, then the sun would come out for fifteen minutes, then it would rain again.
Wednesday morning, before we headed to the repair site, we looked at the sunny sky and said, "Today looks like we will avoid any rain."
That was true up until five pm, when we wrapped up our meetings with the repair partner. We had initially planned to stay until Thursday lunchtime before driving back south, but we realized that we had covered all the topics. I will regularly visit Flensburg in the coming months, anyway, so there was no real need to extend our stay. Besides, getting an earlier start on our long drive home was a positive.
First, however, we had our last evening (of the trip) in Flensburg. We decided to walk through the town to look for another place to eat, but when the rain started pounding down (making up for the sunny day), we elected to return one last time to the brewery. Afterwards, we stood outside and watched it continue to bucket down, thinking that the rain might let up, allowing us to get back to the parking garage 10 minutes away. In the end, we sucked it up, got soaked, and cursed whoever said something like "run between the rain drops."
We had parked in the garage of the shopping center, which was at the other end of the town where our restaurant was located. Dripping wet, we entered the shopping center to see if there was a cafe that served espresso. A hot beverage sounded like a good idea, but alas, Flensburg shuts down around 8pm. The shopping mall was not huge by any means, but it did have two cafes, both of which were closing just as we walked up to them. As a last resort, I let my colleague talk me into going to the McDonald's ("Bryan, the McCafe does ok in a pinch.")
Well, either the employee did not know what he was doing, or it wasn't a McCafe. I am not really sure what a McCafe is anyway, but no matter. It was simply McShit.
Yes, I can be a bit of a coffee snob, and the fact is, when espresso is not done right, it tastes horrible. I should have known better and simply skipped the coffee, but hey ho. At least the beer we had consumed over the past days had been exceptional.
Thursday morning, the rain continued, which made our departure from Flensburg a little more tedious. No one likes to drive in a rainstorm, and certainly not for six hours, but by mid-morning, the rain had subsided. Unfortunately, we encountered some hefty traffic, delaying us by about an hour. Thankfully, the espresso bars at the rest stops were functioning well, and we arrived back to Frankfurt around 5pm. My colleague did not stick around, as he still had another long drive ahead of him.
All in all, the week had gone pretty well. I was glad to be back at home, and spent a couple of hours at the pub catching up on local stuff with friends I had not seen in a few days. A lot can happen in Bornheim, you know. Sometimes if you blink, you miss it.
Friday was a normal home office work day for me, and like usual, I took time in the afternoon to skype with my father, who had just gotten back from a trip to Alaska. I was glad to catch up with him and hear how much he enjoyed seeing a part of the world he had never been to before.
Now, it is Sunday afternoon, and I am enjoying the last bit of a two day weekend. The cool temperatures are settling in nicely, I am getting the daily leg routine in with fervor (it feels so good when I am done), and the working week will be here soon enough. My beer bottle may not make such a cool sound when I open it, but that's ok. I'll get back up to have a Flens soon enough.
Plop.
see you out there
bryan
Saturday, August 31, 2019
Adapting Effort(less) to my To Do Lists
As I go about my life, I always keep several lists close at hand. Some are very basic and involve specific tasks, like the list I made this morning for what I need (want) to accomplish today before leaving on my business trip tomorrow. The list is short, only four items, two of which are absolutely vital to my trip. In no specific order, the items are: clean the flat, get cash, go the supermarket, and pack.
Simply writing these items down is sufficient for me to get everything done; if I want to get more specific, then I will make a sub-list for a specific thing. Like my shopping list for the grocery store. I actually have gotten better about reusing post-it notes for this task, as I invariably purchase the same staple items. There is no point to rewrite the same ten items on a new post-it each week. (However, it has occurred to me that I might be able to improve my penmanship, which could help me avoid standing in the middle of the store trying to figure out my scribble on a crumpled post-it).
Pause for a second as I suddenly realize that I do not see that many other shoppers in my local market carrying around a list, so unless they are concealing it on the inside of their hand (like they are cheating on a spelling test or something), I am pretty amazed that German society is so capable of routine shopping without a list. Then again, I cannot really measure on the success rate of the other shoppers. For me, even with my list (again a note to self - improve penmanship), I manage to forget one or two items until I get home to put everything away, at which point I get to say, "Damn, add that to the list for next time."
Of course, next time for me is only a couple of days away.
For list items such as "clean the flat" and "pack," I rarely have to get too detailed. Usually, clean the flat relates to normal maintenance as opposed to getting out the sandblaster and industrial scrubbers. Likewise, packing is a pretty straight forward thing. If I will only be gone for a few nights, then it is a simple exercise in counting. One of the advantages to wearing remarkably similar clothing day in and day out is that I don't have to think about wardrobe combinations very much. While this makes things simple (if not boring), it does allow for moments of bewilderment among my friends and the super capable shoppers who live in my neighborhood.
Just last weekend, after I had abandoned my effort to get a blog piece posted on account that I was trying too hard with both the title and the content, I walked into the pub only to be greeted with a comment, "Holy shit, Bryan, you are wearing a red shirt."
Later on the same evening, someone else made a similar remark, and I related the abridged account of when I had purchased my Shallow Reign t-shirt at a Monsters of Rock concert back in the summer of 1988. Chris was there, and he was the one who made me get a red shirt (instead of my usual black or white). Our conversation quickly touched on the amazing fact that said shirt does not look 30 years old, but, as Erik said, maybe 5 or 6 years old. No one believed me when I told them how many times I had worn the shirt through the years, though in fairness, I've only worn it once or twice in the past decade.
Anyway, back to lists. Besides the basic day to day routine lists, I also keep some running lists which are more goal oriented. Last year, I got a tip from a woman who helped me better understand the importance of specifics. Thus, instead of simply saying, "I want to read more," she suggested that I quantify the statement. That way, I would be able to measure my achievement.
I do take her point on board, but notice that this can sometimes create conflict. There is nothing worse than setting ambitious goals, then falling disastrously short. I tend to apply Bryanlogic to my tasks, including goal setting, and am very well versed in attempting to be realistic. That being said, one cannot forget that, with kids and Bryans, all plans are subject to change. Therefore, a certain extent of flexibility needs to be present. This includes accepting whatever happens.
I recently reread the general personal development lists that I made for myself over the past few years. Not surprisingly, they are all similar, and not particularly specific. Again, there is no set order for these items, but they include: read more, improve German language, play more piano, get fitter, smoke less, and write more.
With writing, I keep a sort of personal journal and obviously post pieces on this blog. Although I would like to get a piece posted each week, I realize (as do any regular readers) that it won't always happen, like last week, for example. Still, I am able to measure the accomplishment not just by looking at the stats on the blog site, but more importantly, by noticing how I feel. Just like with lifting weights (part of the "get fitter" task) regularly, I notice how I feel WHEN I have not exercised. Exercising creates energy for the body, and writing exercises the mind. Both are really good things.
I am careful to keep these things in a balance, so I do not beat myself up (too much) when I get caught up in other things. This has been a sore spot for me with regard to learning the German and Spanish languages over the years. For a while, I really got irritated with myself for trying too hard to keep both Spanish and German languages level as high as possible. Living in a German speaking society allows for less opportunity to regularly use Spanish; anyone who is multilingual certainly understands this challenge. For me, I have relaxed the pressure I was putting on myself to try and keep a grasp of Spanish, and channeled the energy into exploring ways to actually focus more on German, which is the logical thing to do, considering where I live.
When I got my new laptop the other month, I was glad to be able to install some German language learning software, and for several weeks was diligently doing some refresher work on various points, like articles, verb conjugation and the like. Of course, it was great to be able to measure the progress via the program, but since August, things have gotten ridiculously busy at work, and I have simply not found the time to go through a few of the exercises as much as I wanted.
Rather than allow myself to feel lousy for not being able to keep up (pause to admire those people who work full time and study full time), I find other ways to stay immersed in German, most recently through German medium. I am tending only to watch German language programming, and it continues to help, particularly as a refresher for expression and culture. I won't quite say that it is now effortless, but this year I am noticing even more than before that I am not as conscious of which language I am using.
A couple of nights ago, I was playing the quiz at the pub. It was sort of spontaneous thing, but our team consisted of myself, 3 Germans, and 2 guys who only speak English. I lost track of which language we were speaking most of the evening. All the Germans (not surprisingly) speak English, but 90% of the time we speak with each other in German, unless there are nonspeakers around, like Thursday night.
It is a great feeling to be able to switch languages back and forth without realizing it. I had another reminder of this the following day while participating in multiple conference calls, some internal, with German speaking colleagues, others external, with the same colleagues along with some non-German speakers. The fuzzy feeling just creates great energy, and I am not even really trying.
With piano playing, it is the same. I have commented frequently on the effortless mastery technique that Kenny Werner writes about, and I think that actually applying to multiple facets of my life is further improving my approach to music. I am currently working on four new pieces of work, and all of them are challenging, both technically and expressively. It is a lot of stuff to learn at one time, and can easily be discouraging if I let it.
Playing these pieces with the focus on becoming more familiar with the work (rather than playing it correctly) is accelerating the process. I am not worried about having all of them mastered before I play them for Grandmother during Christmas holidays, but am simply enjoying not thinking too much about playing them. Focusing on enjoyment allows me to let go, and simply appreciate the moment.
I know I have used this personal example in the past, especially with language learning, but it fits. I cannot be the only one who, when learning to ride a bicycle without training wheels, was pedaling along without a care in the world, only to glance over my shoulder, expecting to see my father running along supporting the back of my bike seat. The shock of not seeing him there (but 50 yards behind, instead, standing and smiling) immediately knocked me back into consciousness, prompting me to wobble and crash the bike. Had I simply not concentrated, I would have kept riding for another 2 days, or at least until it was time to go in for supper.
Playing these new piano pieces is the same. I will be moving right through a passage, flowing along as happily as ever, when I suddenly I allow a thought into my head: where am I on the page of music? or do I have the fingering right?
Bam, I lose the flow and immediately have my fingers tangled up.
So I have to pause, get myself back into the mindset, then start again. It's actually easy, once you get the hang of it. And, all four of them are coming along nicely; I only started working on them a few weeks ago.
Now, if you will excuse me, I am going get cracking on my little list for today. But I am not going to think about it to much.
see you out there
bryan
Simply writing these items down is sufficient for me to get everything done; if I want to get more specific, then I will make a sub-list for a specific thing. Like my shopping list for the grocery store. I actually have gotten better about reusing post-it notes for this task, as I invariably purchase the same staple items. There is no point to rewrite the same ten items on a new post-it each week. (However, it has occurred to me that I might be able to improve my penmanship, which could help me avoid standing in the middle of the store trying to figure out my scribble on a crumpled post-it).
Pause for a second as I suddenly realize that I do not see that many other shoppers in my local market carrying around a list, so unless they are concealing it on the inside of their hand (like they are cheating on a spelling test or something), I am pretty amazed that German society is so capable of routine shopping without a list. Then again, I cannot really measure on the success rate of the other shoppers. For me, even with my list (again a note to self - improve penmanship), I manage to forget one or two items until I get home to put everything away, at which point I get to say, "Damn, add that to the list for next time."
Of course, next time for me is only a couple of days away.
For list items such as "clean the flat" and "pack," I rarely have to get too detailed. Usually, clean the flat relates to normal maintenance as opposed to getting out the sandblaster and industrial scrubbers. Likewise, packing is a pretty straight forward thing. If I will only be gone for a few nights, then it is a simple exercise in counting. One of the advantages to wearing remarkably similar clothing day in and day out is that I don't have to think about wardrobe combinations very much. While this makes things simple (if not boring), it does allow for moments of bewilderment among my friends and the super capable shoppers who live in my neighborhood.
Just last weekend, after I had abandoned my effort to get a blog piece posted on account that I was trying too hard with both the title and the content, I walked into the pub only to be greeted with a comment, "Holy shit, Bryan, you are wearing a red shirt."
Later on the same evening, someone else made a similar remark, and I related the abridged account of when I had purchased my Shallow Reign t-shirt at a Monsters of Rock concert back in the summer of 1988. Chris was there, and he was the one who made me get a red shirt (instead of my usual black or white). Our conversation quickly touched on the amazing fact that said shirt does not look 30 years old, but, as Erik said, maybe 5 or 6 years old. No one believed me when I told them how many times I had worn the shirt through the years, though in fairness, I've only worn it once or twice in the past decade.
Anyway, back to lists. Besides the basic day to day routine lists, I also keep some running lists which are more goal oriented. Last year, I got a tip from a woman who helped me better understand the importance of specifics. Thus, instead of simply saying, "I want to read more," she suggested that I quantify the statement. That way, I would be able to measure my achievement.
I do take her point on board, but notice that this can sometimes create conflict. There is nothing worse than setting ambitious goals, then falling disastrously short. I tend to apply Bryanlogic to my tasks, including goal setting, and am very well versed in attempting to be realistic. That being said, one cannot forget that, with kids and Bryans, all plans are subject to change. Therefore, a certain extent of flexibility needs to be present. This includes accepting whatever happens.
I recently reread the general personal development lists that I made for myself over the past few years. Not surprisingly, they are all similar, and not particularly specific. Again, there is no set order for these items, but they include: read more, improve German language, play more piano, get fitter, smoke less, and write more.
With writing, I keep a sort of personal journal and obviously post pieces on this blog. Although I would like to get a piece posted each week, I realize (as do any regular readers) that it won't always happen, like last week, for example. Still, I am able to measure the accomplishment not just by looking at the stats on the blog site, but more importantly, by noticing how I feel. Just like with lifting weights (part of the "get fitter" task) regularly, I notice how I feel WHEN I have not exercised. Exercising creates energy for the body, and writing exercises the mind. Both are really good things.
I am careful to keep these things in a balance, so I do not beat myself up (too much) when I get caught up in other things. This has been a sore spot for me with regard to learning the German and Spanish languages over the years. For a while, I really got irritated with myself for trying too hard to keep both Spanish and German languages level as high as possible. Living in a German speaking society allows for less opportunity to regularly use Spanish; anyone who is multilingual certainly understands this challenge. For me, I have relaxed the pressure I was putting on myself to try and keep a grasp of Spanish, and channeled the energy into exploring ways to actually focus more on German, which is the logical thing to do, considering where I live.
When I got my new laptop the other month, I was glad to be able to install some German language learning software, and for several weeks was diligently doing some refresher work on various points, like articles, verb conjugation and the like. Of course, it was great to be able to measure the progress via the program, but since August, things have gotten ridiculously busy at work, and I have simply not found the time to go through a few of the exercises as much as I wanted.
Rather than allow myself to feel lousy for not being able to keep up (pause to admire those people who work full time and study full time), I find other ways to stay immersed in German, most recently through German medium. I am tending only to watch German language programming, and it continues to help, particularly as a refresher for expression and culture. I won't quite say that it is now effortless, but this year I am noticing even more than before that I am not as conscious of which language I am using.
A couple of nights ago, I was playing the quiz at the pub. It was sort of spontaneous thing, but our team consisted of myself, 3 Germans, and 2 guys who only speak English. I lost track of which language we were speaking most of the evening. All the Germans (not surprisingly) speak English, but 90% of the time we speak with each other in German, unless there are nonspeakers around, like Thursday night.
It is a great feeling to be able to switch languages back and forth without realizing it. I had another reminder of this the following day while participating in multiple conference calls, some internal, with German speaking colleagues, others external, with the same colleagues along with some non-German speakers. The fuzzy feeling just creates great energy, and I am not even really trying.
With piano playing, it is the same. I have commented frequently on the effortless mastery technique that Kenny Werner writes about, and I think that actually applying to multiple facets of my life is further improving my approach to music. I am currently working on four new pieces of work, and all of them are challenging, both technically and expressively. It is a lot of stuff to learn at one time, and can easily be discouraging if I let it.
Playing these pieces with the focus on becoming more familiar with the work (rather than playing it correctly) is accelerating the process. I am not worried about having all of them mastered before I play them for Grandmother during Christmas holidays, but am simply enjoying not thinking too much about playing them. Focusing on enjoyment allows me to let go, and simply appreciate the moment.
I know I have used this personal example in the past, especially with language learning, but it fits. I cannot be the only one who, when learning to ride a bicycle without training wheels, was pedaling along without a care in the world, only to glance over my shoulder, expecting to see my father running along supporting the back of my bike seat. The shock of not seeing him there (but 50 yards behind, instead, standing and smiling) immediately knocked me back into consciousness, prompting me to wobble and crash the bike. Had I simply not concentrated, I would have kept riding for another 2 days, or at least until it was time to go in for supper.
Playing these new piano pieces is the same. I will be moving right through a passage, flowing along as happily as ever, when I suddenly I allow a thought into my head: where am I on the page of music? or do I have the fingering right?
Bam, I lose the flow and immediately have my fingers tangled up.
So I have to pause, get myself back into the mindset, then start again. It's actually easy, once you get the hang of it. And, all four of them are coming along nicely; I only started working on them a few weeks ago.
Now, if you will excuse me, I am going get cracking on my little list for today. But I am not going to think about it to much.
see you out there
bryan
Friday, August 16, 2019
Tunes and School
This past week, the kids started back to school in the state of Hessen. Several of my friends in the neighborhood all have children under the age of 10, and I thought of them this past week as I listened to the sounds coming from the school playground across the street from my apartment. It's always kind of an exciting time as everyone gets back into the school year routine; getting up early, doing homework (maybe), and starting any extracurricular activities.
Yesterday when I spoke with my father on skype, he mentioned that he saw all the little kids in his neighborhood trooping off for their first day of the new school year. Likewise, I have seen a fair amount of "back to school" photos posted by parents on facebook of my younger friends all starting their new grade. My own nephew is just starting his final year of high school (2-4-6-8 who do we appreciate? seniors, that's who) and I took a few minutes to reflect back on my own school days, all those years ago.
I was always really anxious on the first day of school, from kindergarten through university, though I might argue that university years were noticeably different from the k-12 era. But local public school? Incredible. Every year on the last night before starting back to school, my folks would have to really calm me down, and then the following evening, AFTER the first day of school was finished, everything was perfect again, and we could all sort of laugh as we (or better said, my parents) would say, "See, there was nothing to be worried about?"
Although I still get a little anxious when starting something new (ie..a new job, a new project, etc), it amazes me how worked up I got all those year ago. After all, the pressures of being a student these days are considerably higher than they were 30-40 years ago. Yet most of the photos I see are of smiling kids wearing their new duds and embracing the excitement of the new school year; no one seems as apprehensive as I felt. Fair play to them.
Over the years, I have mentioned how how much I disliked high school, almost to the point of being unhappy. Of course, it had much more to do simply with me being bored, ready for new challenges, wanting to be independent and treated like an adult (but with the safety of still having a place to live and a semi-regular stream of cash flow), but unable to completely express what it was exactly that I was looking for. This experience is no different from any other student of the same age, but obviously everyone has to go through their own experience.
Like many students before me and after me, I found my solace in music. It was always about the music, and for sure, music is what helped get me through high school. My tastes were (still are, for that matter) far away from mainstream, but I found others with similar music tastes, and it was no real surprise that they, too, were equally annoyed with the trials and tribulations of being a teenager.
We were all searching for answers, and there were so many questions. But we found common ground in the music.
Earlier this week at Kioskabend, we got to talking about the Sisters of Mercy. A couple of my friends first got into SoM in the early 90s, which is a little understandable due to the fact that it sometimes takes longer for some music to get to other parts of the world. As it were, the Sisters were rather obscure in the USA in the mid-80s; it was hard enough for me to my hands on their stuff. But the Sisters and an associated act, the Mission, had a tremendous influence on me during high school. In fact, the Mission still drives one of my mantras to this day. So, I was a little surprised when my friends were talking about their discovery of these bands some 8-10 years later.
To be fair, we have had similar conversations on other evenings at the Kiosk where I have been the latecomer; a certain band might have been well known (on the underground scene) in Germany for years before I ever heard their music.
Talking about music is still one of my favorite past times, and it's really interesting to get different perspectives and experiences from the friends I have made over the years. It's a real positive for me to still have the opportunity to discuss music with folks in Germany, and it often reminds me of those school days, where I felt like I only had music to break up the monotony of being a frustrated adolescent. As we have all grown up, reflected on our life experiences and shared with others, we inevitably recall a certain tune or certain band that sticks firmly in our memory.
Thus, I listened to the Sisters of Mercy catalog this morning while writing this piece. 30 years ago, I was getting back to start my second year of college with Tim (and playing this stuff non-stop) and today, I am actually thinking about Tim's son and the new chapter in life as he begins freshman year in college. Likewise for my cousin's kid, who is also entering university. I have to assume that they all have a go-to group that they listen to regularly.
I laugh out loud as I bring this piece to a close; I just glanced up on my kitchen wall at a poster that I have had for many years.
Yep, it used to be on my dorm room wall.
see you out there
bryan
Yesterday when I spoke with my father on skype, he mentioned that he saw all the little kids in his neighborhood trooping off for their first day of the new school year. Likewise, I have seen a fair amount of "back to school" photos posted by parents on facebook of my younger friends all starting their new grade. My own nephew is just starting his final year of high school (2-4-6-8 who do we appreciate? seniors, that's who) and I took a few minutes to reflect back on my own school days, all those years ago.
I was always really anxious on the first day of school, from kindergarten through university, though I might argue that university years were noticeably different from the k-12 era. But local public school? Incredible. Every year on the last night before starting back to school, my folks would have to really calm me down, and then the following evening, AFTER the first day of school was finished, everything was perfect again, and we could all sort of laugh as we (or better said, my parents) would say, "See, there was nothing to be worried about?"
Although I still get a little anxious when starting something new (ie..a new job, a new project, etc), it amazes me how worked up I got all those year ago. After all, the pressures of being a student these days are considerably higher than they were 30-40 years ago. Yet most of the photos I see are of smiling kids wearing their new duds and embracing the excitement of the new school year; no one seems as apprehensive as I felt. Fair play to them.
Over the years, I have mentioned how how much I disliked high school, almost to the point of being unhappy. Of course, it had much more to do simply with me being bored, ready for new challenges, wanting to be independent and treated like an adult (but with the safety of still having a place to live and a semi-regular stream of cash flow), but unable to completely express what it was exactly that I was looking for. This experience is no different from any other student of the same age, but obviously everyone has to go through their own experience.
Like many students before me and after me, I found my solace in music. It was always about the music, and for sure, music is what helped get me through high school. My tastes were (still are, for that matter) far away from mainstream, but I found others with similar music tastes, and it was no real surprise that they, too, were equally annoyed with the trials and tribulations of being a teenager.
We were all searching for answers, and there were so many questions. But we found common ground in the music.
Earlier this week at Kioskabend, we got to talking about the Sisters of Mercy. A couple of my friends first got into SoM in the early 90s, which is a little understandable due to the fact that it sometimes takes longer for some music to get to other parts of the world. As it were, the Sisters were rather obscure in the USA in the mid-80s; it was hard enough for me to my hands on their stuff. But the Sisters and an associated act, the Mission, had a tremendous influence on me during high school. In fact, the Mission still drives one of my mantras to this day. So, I was a little surprised when my friends were talking about their discovery of these bands some 8-10 years later.
To be fair, we have had similar conversations on other evenings at the Kiosk where I have been the latecomer; a certain band might have been well known (on the underground scene) in Germany for years before I ever heard their music.
Talking about music is still one of my favorite past times, and it's really interesting to get different perspectives and experiences from the friends I have made over the years. It's a real positive for me to still have the opportunity to discuss music with folks in Germany, and it often reminds me of those school days, where I felt like I only had music to break up the monotony of being a frustrated adolescent. As we have all grown up, reflected on our life experiences and shared with others, we inevitably recall a certain tune or certain band that sticks firmly in our memory.
Thus, I listened to the Sisters of Mercy catalog this morning while writing this piece. 30 years ago, I was getting back to start my second year of college with Tim (and playing this stuff non-stop) and today, I am actually thinking about Tim's son and the new chapter in life as he begins freshman year in college. Likewise for my cousin's kid, who is also entering university. I have to assume that they all have a go-to group that they listen to regularly.
I laugh out loud as I bring this piece to a close; I just glanced up on my kitchen wall at a poster that I have had for many years.
Yep, it used to be on my dorm room wall.
see you out there
bryan
Saturday, August 10, 2019
Fernseher und Football
Flashback to August 1998, when I returned to Dallas after having lived in the Boston area for almost two years. I initially lived with my folks for a few months, but in early 1999 I started the little Goliad experience.
For almost four years, I lived happily without a television set. I was quite proud of myself for finding other ways to occupy my time and avoid getting trapped in the routine of watching regular shows. Of course, I spent the majority of my time in a few pubs, which had its share of positives and negatives. I will take a moment and congratulate all of those students who were able to afford going to college from the income they collected from my generous tips and tabs. As I mentioned the other week, I got tons of great writing and reflection done in those wonderful establishments (2 of which still remain very popular to this day), and that alone is more than enough to justify the time.
In 2002, I did finally obtain a television set, albeit a hand me down from my folks, who had just purchased a new set for their living room. So, I suddenly had a 13 inch TV that was already about 10 years old. It served its purpose (I will get to that in a minute), even though it only had one channel that came in clearly; the reception in the area was not all that great, hence only one station.
Within a year or two, my parents again had to buy a television, for reasons I can no longer remember. But, it meant that I got the next hand me down, which happened to be a 25 inch TV.
OOOH! I was suddenly excited to have a large viewing screen in my small studio. I felt like I was advancing in the tech world, and ended up buying a region-free DVD player so I could enjoy international film. (Despite my averseness to television, I am a huge fan of cinema)
Well, I left Goliad for Spain in early 2006, moving in with my sister and her family. Midway through that summer, they purchased their first flat screen television, which was quite large (and expensive) for the time. Again, we all went "OOOH!" when first seeing the beautiful quality of the lovely set.
This "OOOH" feeling is almost identical to the feeling that most people had when sitting in a movie theater and seeing, hearing, experiencing the THX trailer before a movie started. I cannot be the only one who went "OOOH" during those experiences, and I still have the same reaction every time.
At any rate, once I got to Germany, my furnished flat had a 25 inch CRT television, which was a step in the wrong direction from my previous time in Spain. Unfortunately, when the television (which was already about 20 years old when I moved into the flat) stopped working, my landlord replaced it with another 25 inch CRT. By 2007, CRT TVs were on the decline, making them very inexpensive for landlords who had no desire to put an expensive flat screen television into a rented flat. I can understand their point.
It did not really matter to me. Soon after, the cable company enforced their service on all the tenants, and those that did not subscribe to the service simply had no television service. Because of this, I had no problems over the next decade declining to pay my FUNK tax, which is, to put it simply, is the way the government charges you for public broadcasting. For those of us who love PBS but hate the fundraising drives, the German solution is quite superior; they simply take the money from EVERYONE, regardless of who uses the service. (Now is not time to get wound up about this practice, reread the blog title if you need a reminder of what we are discussing)
So, for about a decade, I have had a television set without any available channels sitting in my living room, but I certainly used it to watch my DVDs. Finally, in 2017, during a visit from my parents, I finally decided to invest in a flat screen television. I checked around and made comparisons and ultimately decided on a medium sized model that fit my price range. Several friends had already made similar purchases and advised me to for the biggest screen I could possibly get. I stuck with a somewhat smaller version, which I am still happy with. Based on the prices of flat screen Fernseher these days, my model is comparable to what some parents might purchase for their teenager as a Christmas gift, which is exactly what happened to my nephew. He has the identical model to mine.
But you know what? I still go "OOOHH!" when I sit in my living room and watch a DVD.
Furthermore, because of the available apps, I have more access to some streaming content, particularly in German. This has helped improved my language ability, and a small part of me does kind of wish I had done a little more viewing of German language broadcasting in my early days of living here.
That being said, watching programming now (with a much stronger level of the language) is more like entertainment and less like a language study lesson. In short, I am more used to certain character actors with a German synchronized voice as opposed to the actual film star. In fact, I regularly forget which language I watch something in. Sometimes in English, and sometimes in German.
I waited for almost a year before accepting Nadja's offer to share in her Netflix account, and I must say that the additional available content as been very welcome. I still tend to stick to movies, but as readers of recent posts will recall, I am watching a few more series.
Still, I like the fact that it is on demand programming, and I still do not get enthusiastic about a lot of series that are constantly being discussed by fans and followers. I may decide one day to watch those shows, too, but for now, I am pretty content.
With one exception.
(Pause while a few readers go "FINALLY. He is getting around to talking Football.")
Precisely.
The whole reason that I got that little TV back in 2002 was simply to watch the World Cup. (Yep, Pablo, once again we can reminisce about those cries of "Korea fighting!" and the like)
A few people might remember one of the post-Christmas stories I wrote up after a wonderful visit to Valencia, where I refer to that super month in 2012 when I did not get much sleep, but saw EVERY game of the World Cup, despite the time differences. I got maybe a couple of hours a sleep a night during the group stage, was a complete grouchy jerk at work, and I loved every minute of it.
And, I saw the all the matches on the one little channel I could get, which was Univision, the Spanish broadcasting channel. (Yes, my Spanish certainly improved during this time, hence the slight regret about waiting so long to get on track with German broadcasting)
After the World Cup was over, I continued watching Univision, and became a fan of their morning show (the equivalent to the Today Show or Good Morning America or whatever). Because my screen size was so dinky, it was still very easy to turn the set off and do something more productive, like go to the Old Monk.
During this era, I was frantically trying to keep up with English football, particularly the Arsenal. Back then, my local pubs did show International matches (Qualifiers and such) and we would regularly be at the Dubliner on Saturday mornings for 9am matches that were taking place on nice European Saturday afternoons. Those were good times, but sometimes a little inconvenient.
One day, Chris mentioned that maybe I could piggy back on his cable subscription service, and after a little contemplation, I had a little set top box and access to hundreds of channels. All pretty much worthless to me.
But, a network decided to market heavily the fact that they were going to show many of the English league football matches, and finally I was going to be able to have an opportunity to see the Arsenal. During this time, Arsenal were constantly in the top 4, if not champions, so their matches were being shown in markets where the sport was not so well known (by English speakers).
In order to get access to this one channel that showed the English soccer (yep...we all remember the Fox Soccer Network), I had to call up the nice people at the cable company to sign up for an additional package. The night I called the lady, she was really nice and pleasant, but still had to charge me 30 extra dollars a month to gain access to approximately 150 additional channels, just so I could get access to the ONE that I wanted.
"But I don't want to watch shows about catching alligators in the Bayou," I pleaded. "Nor am I the kind of consumer that wants access to high school football games from Wisconsin." (It was a sports package, I must point out.)
In the end, I paid up, and for probably two years, I spent about 60 dollars a month to have access to one station that I really wanted. In my opinion, it was again money well spent, and I can recall some wonderful Saturday mornings sitting in my apartment at 6h30 watching an Arsenal match with Chris, who had made the 5 second trek across the backyard. Sure, we could have watched those matches in his living room, but we would have disturbed the rest of the family, as we tended to get a little jumpy and loud. Arsenal 5 - Spurs 4. Nothing else to be said.
About this time, a couple of local pubs started arranging to be open for the early morning weekend matches, and this too, was a great experience to have. I met a lot of great people, all of them football fans that cared enough to get up at 6am on Saturday morning after 4 hours of sleep, raging hangover (sometimes) to have a little breakfast and enjoy the morning.
The great part about some of this was the fact that a 9h30, when most of the matches were over, one could get on with their regular Saturday activities, particularly those involving people who were not necessarily soccer fans.
Well, in 2006, I moved to Spain. Lynne and Fran bought their big screen super duper television, and it was a World Cup year. OOOH!
In my joy of moving to Europe, I had forgotten about the time difference, so there were some challenges with catching the WC matches, as I mentioned in one of my posts from summer 2006.
Once I got to Germany, a county full of football fans, I found no difficulty watching the matches in the pub, as I have described over the past 13 years of my life here. When matches are not being shown at the pub, or at least, not the matches I want to see, I would have to resort to using some suspect streaming website to try and follow the Arsenal, usually with commentary in some random language like Cantonese or Swahili. I had more than one problem with my laptop after using these sites, but again, that's another story.
Ironically, most everyone in the US has almost 100% coverage of all English football matches, now. This is somewhat convenient for me when I return to the states for a Christmas visit; I am usually able to catch the matches at my father's house.
However, in Europe, the competition for television rights has continued to be brutal, and expensive.
This never was a huge issue for me, since I always had the pub, or as a rather poor alternative, the use of dodgy websites. Somehow I have continued to be able to regularly see the Arsenal matches, even if the team have not been nearly as exciting as years previously. Once a fan, always a fan.
Last August, I realized that a web streaming service, DAZN, was offering English league coverage for a very reasonable monthly price. I have a lot of German friends who are football fans, particularly for the Frankfurt team, and through the years we have discussed the annoying charges associated with subscribing to whichever big network was covering the various Football leagues. The German league is obviously the important focus for the typical German football fan, so they experience similar headaches and irritations of having to pay premiums just to have coverage of Bundesliga, and the packages they are paying for include similar uninteresting channels like ones that show junior high handball tournaments or some other less popular sport.
In 2018, DAZN proudly announced that they would show ALL English top flight matches, and I did not need much more incentive. Okay, so there was virtually no coverage of Bundesliga, but that, too, was fine. I follow Eintracht, I consider myself a fan, but a fan that can live with seeing a handful of matches during the course of the season.
My friends who were forced to pay hefty monthly fees for Bundesliga coverage would regularly complain, and I was able to say, "yep, I used to pay about the same price just to see a couple of matches a week back when I was still living in the states."
Well, for 10 euro a month, I had sufficient coverage of the Arsenal during the past season, and even got used to the German commentary. It is not like the language was a challenge, but more so the style of color commentary. I have commented on this in previous posts, and it really just comes down to personal preference. It is no real surprise that the English matches televised in the US markets get covered by a British commentator. It supposedly "sounds" more authentic, and in fairness, I will admit that when a German native tries to say something like "into the fray" or "what a naughty tackle, indeed," it just is not the same.
And commentary certainly has its place. My childhood and adolescence is much more enriched because I got to watch Keith Jackson talk about college football (American) for so many years. Likewise, announcers for basketball or baseball find their niche and their voice.
DAZN would show some of these sports from the USA and although I hardly ever watched, I would always kind of chuckle as I listened to a German announcer try and replicate an American announcer.
I have a couple of favorite announcers for the English football leagues, and I still enjoy listening to them when the opportunity arises. In truth, I would prefer the English accent when viewing a match, and I was always irritated listening to an American commentator try and call an English league match, since they always tended to make it sound like a baseball game instead of the actual sport on display. As I mention above, the Germans have a similar difficulty, since it is not as if they are all that familiar with many American sports. Listening to a German guy talk about "driving the lane" or "going downtown" just sounds, well, almost silly.
Of course, fans of a sport learn to adapt to the environment, and I am the same. After all, I am fan of the sport not because of the commentary, but because of the sport itself.
A couple of weeks ago, I got a notice from DAZN indicating that they would be increasing their monthly fees from August 2019, but they would also offer an opportunity to pay the same previous monthly rate (10 euro) if I chose to pay for one full year. I am still deciding how I want to continue with them, but the price difference is marginal, especially for someone who put 5 people through college just from my pub tabs. Almost 20 years ago.
What did slip past me with DAZN is that THIS year, they will not have the English league broadcast. I discovered this yesterday morning when I checked to their schedule to see when they would show the first Arsenal match. One of the small irritations I had with DAZN last year was (partially my fault) not realizing that when they said ALL matches, they did not mean "live."
Thus, several times during the course of the last season, I did not get to watch the Arsenal match until a few hours later. The first time this happened really ticked me off, as I had spent the hour before kick-off cooking a large meal, intent on sitting down to feast during the football match.
After that mishap, I would always check ahead of time, so knew when I would be delayed or when I could get the live feed. Still, DAZN showed all of the Europa League matches, and since Arsenal were in that, I still found the 10 euro monthly fee reasonable, even if I was not watching all that frequently. Additionally, it was not as if I was watching any of their other programing. In short, I calculated the monthly fee for 12 months against the number of league matches (plus Europa) and came up with a price per match. Again, very reasonable. In my economic world.
So yesterday when I suddenly realized that I was in a real pickle, I had to quickly search for other options. No, I did not want to invest in cable/satellite television, since none of that is very interesting to me. I have enough options with my streaming channels and Netflix, probably more than enough.
But, I needed a football solution, and came across, gulp, Sky. This, in fairness, has always been an option for me, and one that I never really wanted to opt for, but I discovered there is a way to get broadcasting without having to get a set top box, and so, I am now a subscriber to their streaming service, which does give me access to all the Premiership games. Live. Yes, it will be a tad more expensive than I had initially planned, so I may have to rethink my DAZN deal, although they have the rights to Europa.
Now, part of the reason I have always liked about NOT having a television is the fact that I never had to deal with the distraction. I am still very glad that television viewing was very limited in our household when I was growing up. That is one of the big reasons that I continue to be an avid reader, and still average maybe 20 to 30 books a year.
Likewise, I do not like paying for something that I do not use, or at least, find some value in. On the plus side, I am able to pay a nominal fee (in my opinion) for the ONE service that interests me, and I am rather grateful for that. Sure, I may miss out on the extensive sports package, which means that I will not be able to watch a junior high handball tournament or see some obscure German sport, but I think that will be okay.
Meanwhile, the English league kicked off last evening with a Liverpool match, and I tuned in to my new subscription.
I got a little irritated as the German commentator tried to sing "You'll Never Walk Alone," but hopefully he won't do something similar during the Arsenal match tomorrow.
So, with my Arsenal solution in place, I am ready for the season. With joy, excitement, and hope.
It is a perfect time to say, "OOOHH!"
see you out there
bryan
For almost four years, I lived happily without a television set. I was quite proud of myself for finding other ways to occupy my time and avoid getting trapped in the routine of watching regular shows. Of course, I spent the majority of my time in a few pubs, which had its share of positives and negatives. I will take a moment and congratulate all of those students who were able to afford going to college from the income they collected from my generous tips and tabs. As I mentioned the other week, I got tons of great writing and reflection done in those wonderful establishments (2 of which still remain very popular to this day), and that alone is more than enough to justify the time.
In 2002, I did finally obtain a television set, albeit a hand me down from my folks, who had just purchased a new set for their living room. So, I suddenly had a 13 inch TV that was already about 10 years old. It served its purpose (I will get to that in a minute), even though it only had one channel that came in clearly; the reception in the area was not all that great, hence only one station.
Within a year or two, my parents again had to buy a television, for reasons I can no longer remember. But, it meant that I got the next hand me down, which happened to be a 25 inch TV.
OOOH! I was suddenly excited to have a large viewing screen in my small studio. I felt like I was advancing in the tech world, and ended up buying a region-free DVD player so I could enjoy international film. (Despite my averseness to television, I am a huge fan of cinema)
Well, I left Goliad for Spain in early 2006, moving in with my sister and her family. Midway through that summer, they purchased their first flat screen television, which was quite large (and expensive) for the time. Again, we all went "OOOH!" when first seeing the beautiful quality of the lovely set.
This "OOOH" feeling is almost identical to the feeling that most people had when sitting in a movie theater and seeing, hearing, experiencing the THX trailer before a movie started. I cannot be the only one who went "OOOH" during those experiences, and I still have the same reaction every time.
At any rate, once I got to Germany, my furnished flat had a 25 inch CRT television, which was a step in the wrong direction from my previous time in Spain. Unfortunately, when the television (which was already about 20 years old when I moved into the flat) stopped working, my landlord replaced it with another 25 inch CRT. By 2007, CRT TVs were on the decline, making them very inexpensive for landlords who had no desire to put an expensive flat screen television into a rented flat. I can understand their point.
It did not really matter to me. Soon after, the cable company enforced their service on all the tenants, and those that did not subscribe to the service simply had no television service. Because of this, I had no problems over the next decade declining to pay my FUNK tax, which is, to put it simply, is the way the government charges you for public broadcasting. For those of us who love PBS but hate the fundraising drives, the German solution is quite superior; they simply take the money from EVERYONE, regardless of who uses the service. (Now is not time to get wound up about this practice, reread the blog title if you need a reminder of what we are discussing)
So, for about a decade, I have had a television set without any available channels sitting in my living room, but I certainly used it to watch my DVDs. Finally, in 2017, during a visit from my parents, I finally decided to invest in a flat screen television. I checked around and made comparisons and ultimately decided on a medium sized model that fit my price range. Several friends had already made similar purchases and advised me to for the biggest screen I could possibly get. I stuck with a somewhat smaller version, which I am still happy with. Based on the prices of flat screen Fernseher these days, my model is comparable to what some parents might purchase for their teenager as a Christmas gift, which is exactly what happened to my nephew. He has the identical model to mine.
But you know what? I still go "OOOHH!" when I sit in my living room and watch a DVD.
Furthermore, because of the available apps, I have more access to some streaming content, particularly in German. This has helped improved my language ability, and a small part of me does kind of wish I had done a little more viewing of German language broadcasting in my early days of living here.
That being said, watching programming now (with a much stronger level of the language) is more like entertainment and less like a language study lesson. In short, I am more used to certain character actors with a German synchronized voice as opposed to the actual film star. In fact, I regularly forget which language I watch something in. Sometimes in English, and sometimes in German.
I waited for almost a year before accepting Nadja's offer to share in her Netflix account, and I must say that the additional available content as been very welcome. I still tend to stick to movies, but as readers of recent posts will recall, I am watching a few more series.
Still, I like the fact that it is on demand programming, and I still do not get enthusiastic about a lot of series that are constantly being discussed by fans and followers. I may decide one day to watch those shows, too, but for now, I am pretty content.
With one exception.
(Pause while a few readers go "FINALLY. He is getting around to talking Football.")
Precisely.
The whole reason that I got that little TV back in 2002 was simply to watch the World Cup. (Yep, Pablo, once again we can reminisce about those cries of "Korea fighting!" and the like)
A few people might remember one of the post-Christmas stories I wrote up after a wonderful visit to Valencia, where I refer to that super month in 2012 when I did not get much sleep, but saw EVERY game of the World Cup, despite the time differences. I got maybe a couple of hours a sleep a night during the group stage, was a complete grouchy jerk at work, and I loved every minute of it.
And, I saw the all the matches on the one little channel I could get, which was Univision, the Spanish broadcasting channel. (Yes, my Spanish certainly improved during this time, hence the slight regret about waiting so long to get on track with German broadcasting)
After the World Cup was over, I continued watching Univision, and became a fan of their morning show (the equivalent to the Today Show or Good Morning America or whatever). Because my screen size was so dinky, it was still very easy to turn the set off and do something more productive, like go to the Old Monk.
During this era, I was frantically trying to keep up with English football, particularly the Arsenal. Back then, my local pubs did show International matches (Qualifiers and such) and we would regularly be at the Dubliner on Saturday mornings for 9am matches that were taking place on nice European Saturday afternoons. Those were good times, but sometimes a little inconvenient.
One day, Chris mentioned that maybe I could piggy back on his cable subscription service, and after a little contemplation, I had a little set top box and access to hundreds of channels. All pretty much worthless to me.
But, a network decided to market heavily the fact that they were going to show many of the English league football matches, and finally I was going to be able to have an opportunity to see the Arsenal. During this time, Arsenal were constantly in the top 4, if not champions, so their matches were being shown in markets where the sport was not so well known (by English speakers).
In order to get access to this one channel that showed the English soccer (yep...we all remember the Fox Soccer Network), I had to call up the nice people at the cable company to sign up for an additional package. The night I called the lady, she was really nice and pleasant, but still had to charge me 30 extra dollars a month to gain access to approximately 150 additional channels, just so I could get access to the ONE that I wanted.
"But I don't want to watch shows about catching alligators in the Bayou," I pleaded. "Nor am I the kind of consumer that wants access to high school football games from Wisconsin." (It was a sports package, I must point out.)
In the end, I paid up, and for probably two years, I spent about 60 dollars a month to have access to one station that I really wanted. In my opinion, it was again money well spent, and I can recall some wonderful Saturday mornings sitting in my apartment at 6h30 watching an Arsenal match with Chris, who had made the 5 second trek across the backyard. Sure, we could have watched those matches in his living room, but we would have disturbed the rest of the family, as we tended to get a little jumpy and loud. Arsenal 5 - Spurs 4. Nothing else to be said.
About this time, a couple of local pubs started arranging to be open for the early morning weekend matches, and this too, was a great experience to have. I met a lot of great people, all of them football fans that cared enough to get up at 6am on Saturday morning after 4 hours of sleep, raging hangover (sometimes) to have a little breakfast and enjoy the morning.
The great part about some of this was the fact that a 9h30, when most of the matches were over, one could get on with their regular Saturday activities, particularly those involving people who were not necessarily soccer fans.
Well, in 2006, I moved to Spain. Lynne and Fran bought their big screen super duper television, and it was a World Cup year. OOOH!
In my joy of moving to Europe, I had forgotten about the time difference, so there were some challenges with catching the WC matches, as I mentioned in one of my posts from summer 2006.
Once I got to Germany, a county full of football fans, I found no difficulty watching the matches in the pub, as I have described over the past 13 years of my life here. When matches are not being shown at the pub, or at least, not the matches I want to see, I would have to resort to using some suspect streaming website to try and follow the Arsenal, usually with commentary in some random language like Cantonese or Swahili. I had more than one problem with my laptop after using these sites, but again, that's another story.
Ironically, most everyone in the US has almost 100% coverage of all English football matches, now. This is somewhat convenient for me when I return to the states for a Christmas visit; I am usually able to catch the matches at my father's house.
However, in Europe, the competition for television rights has continued to be brutal, and expensive.
This never was a huge issue for me, since I always had the pub, or as a rather poor alternative, the use of dodgy websites. Somehow I have continued to be able to regularly see the Arsenal matches, even if the team have not been nearly as exciting as years previously. Once a fan, always a fan.
Last August, I realized that a web streaming service, DAZN, was offering English league coverage for a very reasonable monthly price. I have a lot of German friends who are football fans, particularly for the Frankfurt team, and through the years we have discussed the annoying charges associated with subscribing to whichever big network was covering the various Football leagues. The German league is obviously the important focus for the typical German football fan, so they experience similar headaches and irritations of having to pay premiums just to have coverage of Bundesliga, and the packages they are paying for include similar uninteresting channels like ones that show junior high handball tournaments or some other less popular sport.
In 2018, DAZN proudly announced that they would show ALL English top flight matches, and I did not need much more incentive. Okay, so there was virtually no coverage of Bundesliga, but that, too, was fine. I follow Eintracht, I consider myself a fan, but a fan that can live with seeing a handful of matches during the course of the season.
My friends who were forced to pay hefty monthly fees for Bundesliga coverage would regularly complain, and I was able to say, "yep, I used to pay about the same price just to see a couple of matches a week back when I was still living in the states."
Well, for 10 euro a month, I had sufficient coverage of the Arsenal during the past season, and even got used to the German commentary. It is not like the language was a challenge, but more so the style of color commentary. I have commented on this in previous posts, and it really just comes down to personal preference. It is no real surprise that the English matches televised in the US markets get covered by a British commentator. It supposedly "sounds" more authentic, and in fairness, I will admit that when a German native tries to say something like "into the fray" or "what a naughty tackle, indeed," it just is not the same.
And commentary certainly has its place. My childhood and adolescence is much more enriched because I got to watch Keith Jackson talk about college football (American) for so many years. Likewise, announcers for basketball or baseball find their niche and their voice.
DAZN would show some of these sports from the USA and although I hardly ever watched, I would always kind of chuckle as I listened to a German announcer try and replicate an American announcer.
I have a couple of favorite announcers for the English football leagues, and I still enjoy listening to them when the opportunity arises. In truth, I would prefer the English accent when viewing a match, and I was always irritated listening to an American commentator try and call an English league match, since they always tended to make it sound like a baseball game instead of the actual sport on display. As I mention above, the Germans have a similar difficulty, since it is not as if they are all that familiar with many American sports. Listening to a German guy talk about "driving the lane" or "going downtown" just sounds, well, almost silly.
Of course, fans of a sport learn to adapt to the environment, and I am the same. After all, I am fan of the sport not because of the commentary, but because of the sport itself.
A couple of weeks ago, I got a notice from DAZN indicating that they would be increasing their monthly fees from August 2019, but they would also offer an opportunity to pay the same previous monthly rate (10 euro) if I chose to pay for one full year. I am still deciding how I want to continue with them, but the price difference is marginal, especially for someone who put 5 people through college just from my pub tabs. Almost 20 years ago.
What did slip past me with DAZN is that THIS year, they will not have the English league broadcast. I discovered this yesterday morning when I checked to their schedule to see when they would show the first Arsenal match. One of the small irritations I had with DAZN last year was (partially my fault) not realizing that when they said ALL matches, they did not mean "live."
Thus, several times during the course of the last season, I did not get to watch the Arsenal match until a few hours later. The first time this happened really ticked me off, as I had spent the hour before kick-off cooking a large meal, intent on sitting down to feast during the football match.
After that mishap, I would always check ahead of time, so knew when I would be delayed or when I could get the live feed. Still, DAZN showed all of the Europa League matches, and since Arsenal were in that, I still found the 10 euro monthly fee reasonable, even if I was not watching all that frequently. Additionally, it was not as if I was watching any of their other programing. In short, I calculated the monthly fee for 12 months against the number of league matches (plus Europa) and came up with a price per match. Again, very reasonable. In my economic world.
So yesterday when I suddenly realized that I was in a real pickle, I had to quickly search for other options. No, I did not want to invest in cable/satellite television, since none of that is very interesting to me. I have enough options with my streaming channels and Netflix, probably more than enough.
But, I needed a football solution, and came across, gulp, Sky. This, in fairness, has always been an option for me, and one that I never really wanted to opt for, but I discovered there is a way to get broadcasting without having to get a set top box, and so, I am now a subscriber to their streaming service, which does give me access to all the Premiership games. Live. Yes, it will be a tad more expensive than I had initially planned, so I may have to rethink my DAZN deal, although they have the rights to Europa.
Now, part of the reason I have always liked about NOT having a television is the fact that I never had to deal with the distraction. I am still very glad that television viewing was very limited in our household when I was growing up. That is one of the big reasons that I continue to be an avid reader, and still average maybe 20 to 30 books a year.
Likewise, I do not like paying for something that I do not use, or at least, find some value in. On the plus side, I am able to pay a nominal fee (in my opinion) for the ONE service that interests me, and I am rather grateful for that. Sure, I may miss out on the extensive sports package, which means that I will not be able to watch a junior high handball tournament or see some obscure German sport, but I think that will be okay.
Meanwhile, the English league kicked off last evening with a Liverpool match, and I tuned in to my new subscription.
I got a little irritated as the German commentator tried to sing "You'll Never Walk Alone," but hopefully he won't do something similar during the Arsenal match tomorrow.
So, with my Arsenal solution in place, I am ready for the season. With joy, excitement, and hope.
It is a perfect time to say, "OOOHH!"
see you out there
bryan
Saturday, August 03, 2019
Too Hot for Tapas? Never
A couple of weeks ago, we experienced the hottest temperatures of the summer in Frankfurt. I think most of Europe went through a bit of a heat wave. It sucked.
I stopped trying to remember previous summers for comparison, even though it was a common conversation topic when I was out and about. People still make the assumption that, being from Texas, I am used to the heat, and my responses are always very similar. It sucked then, and it sucks now.
True, we are not talking about anything like the great heat wave of 1980, when Dallas had about 42 straight days of temperatures above 38 degrees Celsius, including a few days of 42-45 degrees.
Still, this summer has been particularly humid, which really pushes you to the limit when trying to maintain your sense of humor. My laptop, which tends to struggle (somewhat desperately albeit bravely) during the warmer months of the year, finally hinted that it was on it's last legs. So, I made a rather spontaneous purchase and spent one very warm Friday evening waiting for it be delivered. The online information indicated that the delivery time would be between 10am-6pm; the guy arrived at almost 10h30 that night, sweating profusely. I, too, was sweating a good deal, myself, so the process of signing for the package was awkward, wet, and gross.
But, I really like my laptop, and like with any new toy, it helped keep my spirits up during the following week, when the temperatures were really soaring. I hardly left the house, preferring to suffer the heat on my own. After all, it was hot everywhere, inside or outside. And I did not really feel like going to talk to other people just to reiterate that fact.
A friend of mine was coming into town, and we had made dinner plans two Fridays ago at a little Spanish restaurant in the neighborhood. Fortunately, the temperature had dropped ever so slightly from the two previous days (which were above 40 degrees C), but it was still ridiculously hot. In situations like this, since everyone is suffering, fashion sort of takes a lower priority. No matter how dudded up you think you are, you are still dudded up and sweaty. With the humidity being so high, it was difficult to get comfortable. Sitting at a small restaurant table, even being outside, was a trick.
That being said, we had a really nice evening enjoying the great tapas. The restaurant is a a favorite of ours, but we just do not get there all that often, for one reason or other. Max, Susie and I all chatted about how glad we were to be able to have a chance to eat there once again. The service was really pleasant, and the waitress made sure to bring us bottles of water, almost without asking. (This is a bit unusual in Europe, especially when comparing to the experience in an American restaurant, where the guy comes by and refills your water glass every five seconds.)
After we had consumed a couple of rounds of tapas, the owner came out to greet us and offer us a Schnaps, making for a super experience once again.
As the evening came to a close, we decided to try and meet up for dinner again the following week before Susie was to leave Frankfurt after completing her business. I suggested a little German restaurant which just opened around the corner from my flat, but left things open, as we had time to think about where we would want to go.
Last Saturday, I took a few hours to get some personal writing done, allowing me to reflect on a lot of different things. I do try and keep a little journal, but it has been a while since I have really been able (to want) to find the time to sit down and allow my thoughts to flood the pages of a notebook.
One of the nice things about the hot summer period is that a lot of people are either away on holiday or simply staying at home because it is too hot. I took advantage of this and sat in the pub, almost on my own, save for Maria and a couple of other guests. I enjoyed the time and reminisced about the countless hours I have spent around the world, sitting in a pub, writing in my journal. If I had to calculate college credit hours, I'd probably be approaching a PHD. Definitely time well spent.
The weather forecast had hinted at Gewitter; a large storm was supposed to blow into Frankfurt and cool things off. I was really looking forward to this. More than once, I have seen a windstorm suddenly blow a patio umbrella out of it's stand and send it tumbling across the terrace. This alone makes for some humorous (at least for me) excitement. People always get very dramatic, as they exclaim, "Wow, that could have killed somebody."
Sure, freak accidents do happen, but usually not with such an extreme result. Of course, the same people that makes those kinds of comments are also the ones that immediately start going "AAAGGHHHH, It's raining, I am getting wet" when a sudden thunderstorm starts bucketing down, drenching everyone. These are the same people who, just a few days prior, had been staggering around in the 40plus degree heat like zombies, saying, "AAAGGHHHH, I am dying."
But, I digress.
I am the kind of guy that does enjoy seeing people slip on banana peels, or in this case, seeing someone get clocked by a large piece of patio furniture hurtling across a plaza. Likewise, I love getting soaked in a rainstorm, so long as I am not on my way to a business meeting, a wedding, or some formal occasion.
Alas, by Saturday evening, we still had no rainstorm and the temperatures were still a bit warm. Late that night, we had a little bit of rain, but nothing like what the forecast had called for. Thus, the humidity continued.
This humidity continued into this past week, and it did absolutely nothing to help my mood, which was darkened by a lot of political crap at work. People changed their minds some 400 times during the course of three days, and I was really struggling to stay true to my mantra, "take it as it comes."
Meanwhile, the humidity wreaked havoc with my espresso machine; the coffee started getting really bitter, the milk wasn't foaming properly, and I was getting really irritated.
By Thursday evening, I was desperate for the weekend, and ventured over to the pub for a couple of pints. Since I had been a bit of a homebody the previous week, I was eager for a little company, and was glad to run into Mono, who hates the heat more than I do. We had a brief, humorous discussion about the Love Boat (tv series), which was rather out of character for both of us, as we normally stick to more mundane conversation topics like what would happen if a patio umbrella flew up and knocked somebody over, and who would we want that somebody to be...
At any rate, I had just completed my lipsync of the Love Boat theme song (complete with choreography) when Erik walked in. Erik had been away on holiday in Thailand for most of July, so he was particularly upset to return home to really warm, humid weather. As we were speaking, I thought about a friend of mine who had just spent the last couple of evenings in hospital after an operation. I knew she was glad to be back home in the humid comforts of her flat as opposed to being in a stuffy hospital.
Thursday nights are quiz nights at the pub. Normally I go home about the time the quiz gets started, but I ended up sticking around and forming a team with a few friends. We ended up winning the quiz, but more importantly, I simply enjoyed the evening, and it certainly distracted me from all the challenges of the work week.
I woke up Friday morning definitely ready for the weekend, and got through the work day without too much hassle. Susie, Max, and I had decided on the little German place after all, and after a quick drink in the pub, headed over to find a table. This place serves what they refer to as German tapas, and in short, offer small traditional German dishes in tapas portions, but with a Mediterranean twist. For example, you can get a little tiny schnitzel, or a bit of sausage resting on a little potato salad; perfect tapas portions. The three of us went through two rounds of tapas, and were really satisfied.
The place has only been open about six weeks, and I had already been there a couple of times. I was glad both Max and Susie enjoyed the meal, also. There are a fair amount of cafes and restaurants in the neighborhood, many of them excellent, but it's always nice to find a new place.
Afterwards, we headed back to the pub for another couple of drinks, where we met the traditional Friday folks. I ran into a few friends I hadn't seen in a while, so the evening was great. And, the temperature finally broke, and things cooled off considerably.
I went home at a reasonable hour, thoroughly content with the company and food of the evening. Not surprisingly, I slept very soundly, and woke up this morning to delightfully cool temperatures. I got my espresso machine sorted out, so the coffees are tasting great, and as soon as I finish this post, I will book my flights to Dallas for Christmas.
It's a great way to continue the weekend.
see you out there
bryan
I stopped trying to remember previous summers for comparison, even though it was a common conversation topic when I was out and about. People still make the assumption that, being from Texas, I am used to the heat, and my responses are always very similar. It sucked then, and it sucks now.
True, we are not talking about anything like the great heat wave of 1980, when Dallas had about 42 straight days of temperatures above 38 degrees Celsius, including a few days of 42-45 degrees.
Still, this summer has been particularly humid, which really pushes you to the limit when trying to maintain your sense of humor. My laptop, which tends to struggle (somewhat desperately albeit bravely) during the warmer months of the year, finally hinted that it was on it's last legs. So, I made a rather spontaneous purchase and spent one very warm Friday evening waiting for it be delivered. The online information indicated that the delivery time would be between 10am-6pm; the guy arrived at almost 10h30 that night, sweating profusely. I, too, was sweating a good deal, myself, so the process of signing for the package was awkward, wet, and gross.
But, I really like my laptop, and like with any new toy, it helped keep my spirits up during the following week, when the temperatures were really soaring. I hardly left the house, preferring to suffer the heat on my own. After all, it was hot everywhere, inside or outside. And I did not really feel like going to talk to other people just to reiterate that fact.
A friend of mine was coming into town, and we had made dinner plans two Fridays ago at a little Spanish restaurant in the neighborhood. Fortunately, the temperature had dropped ever so slightly from the two previous days (which were above 40 degrees C), but it was still ridiculously hot. In situations like this, since everyone is suffering, fashion sort of takes a lower priority. No matter how dudded up you think you are, you are still dudded up and sweaty. With the humidity being so high, it was difficult to get comfortable. Sitting at a small restaurant table, even being outside, was a trick.
That being said, we had a really nice evening enjoying the great tapas. The restaurant is a a favorite of ours, but we just do not get there all that often, for one reason or other. Max, Susie and I all chatted about how glad we were to be able to have a chance to eat there once again. The service was really pleasant, and the waitress made sure to bring us bottles of water, almost without asking. (This is a bit unusual in Europe, especially when comparing to the experience in an American restaurant, where the guy comes by and refills your water glass every five seconds.)
After we had consumed a couple of rounds of tapas, the owner came out to greet us and offer us a Schnaps, making for a super experience once again.
As the evening came to a close, we decided to try and meet up for dinner again the following week before Susie was to leave Frankfurt after completing her business. I suggested a little German restaurant which just opened around the corner from my flat, but left things open, as we had time to think about where we would want to go.
Last Saturday, I took a few hours to get some personal writing done, allowing me to reflect on a lot of different things. I do try and keep a little journal, but it has been a while since I have really been able (to want) to find the time to sit down and allow my thoughts to flood the pages of a notebook.
One of the nice things about the hot summer period is that a lot of people are either away on holiday or simply staying at home because it is too hot. I took advantage of this and sat in the pub, almost on my own, save for Maria and a couple of other guests. I enjoyed the time and reminisced about the countless hours I have spent around the world, sitting in a pub, writing in my journal. If I had to calculate college credit hours, I'd probably be approaching a PHD. Definitely time well spent.
The weather forecast had hinted at Gewitter; a large storm was supposed to blow into Frankfurt and cool things off. I was really looking forward to this. More than once, I have seen a windstorm suddenly blow a patio umbrella out of it's stand and send it tumbling across the terrace. This alone makes for some humorous (at least for me) excitement. People always get very dramatic, as they exclaim, "Wow, that could have killed somebody."
Sure, freak accidents do happen, but usually not with such an extreme result. Of course, the same people that makes those kinds of comments are also the ones that immediately start going "AAAGGHHHH, It's raining, I am getting wet" when a sudden thunderstorm starts bucketing down, drenching everyone. These are the same people who, just a few days prior, had been staggering around in the 40plus degree heat like zombies, saying, "AAAGGHHHH, I am dying."
But, I digress.
I am the kind of guy that does enjoy seeing people slip on banana peels, or in this case, seeing someone get clocked by a large piece of patio furniture hurtling across a plaza. Likewise, I love getting soaked in a rainstorm, so long as I am not on my way to a business meeting, a wedding, or some formal occasion.
Alas, by Saturday evening, we still had no rainstorm and the temperatures were still a bit warm. Late that night, we had a little bit of rain, but nothing like what the forecast had called for. Thus, the humidity continued.
This humidity continued into this past week, and it did absolutely nothing to help my mood, which was darkened by a lot of political crap at work. People changed their minds some 400 times during the course of three days, and I was really struggling to stay true to my mantra, "take it as it comes."
Meanwhile, the humidity wreaked havoc with my espresso machine; the coffee started getting really bitter, the milk wasn't foaming properly, and I was getting really irritated.
By Thursday evening, I was desperate for the weekend, and ventured over to the pub for a couple of pints. Since I had been a bit of a homebody the previous week, I was eager for a little company, and was glad to run into Mono, who hates the heat more than I do. We had a brief, humorous discussion about the Love Boat (tv series), which was rather out of character for both of us, as we normally stick to more mundane conversation topics like what would happen if a patio umbrella flew up and knocked somebody over, and who would we want that somebody to be...
At any rate, I had just completed my lipsync of the Love Boat theme song (complete with choreography) when Erik walked in. Erik had been away on holiday in Thailand for most of July, so he was particularly upset to return home to really warm, humid weather. As we were speaking, I thought about a friend of mine who had just spent the last couple of evenings in hospital after an operation. I knew she was glad to be back home in the humid comforts of her flat as opposed to being in a stuffy hospital.
Thursday nights are quiz nights at the pub. Normally I go home about the time the quiz gets started, but I ended up sticking around and forming a team with a few friends. We ended up winning the quiz, but more importantly, I simply enjoyed the evening, and it certainly distracted me from all the challenges of the work week.
I woke up Friday morning definitely ready for the weekend, and got through the work day without too much hassle. Susie, Max, and I had decided on the little German place after all, and after a quick drink in the pub, headed over to find a table. This place serves what they refer to as German tapas, and in short, offer small traditional German dishes in tapas portions, but with a Mediterranean twist. For example, you can get a little tiny schnitzel, or a bit of sausage resting on a little potato salad; perfect tapas portions. The three of us went through two rounds of tapas, and were really satisfied.
The place has only been open about six weeks, and I had already been there a couple of times. I was glad both Max and Susie enjoyed the meal, also. There are a fair amount of cafes and restaurants in the neighborhood, many of them excellent, but it's always nice to find a new place.
Afterwards, we headed back to the pub for another couple of drinks, where we met the traditional Friday folks. I ran into a few friends I hadn't seen in a while, so the evening was great. And, the temperature finally broke, and things cooled off considerably.
I went home at a reasonable hour, thoroughly content with the company and food of the evening. Not surprisingly, I slept very soundly, and woke up this morning to delightfully cool temperatures. I got my espresso machine sorted out, so the coffees are tasting great, and as soon as I finish this post, I will book my flights to Dallas for Christmas.
It's a great way to continue the weekend.
see you out there
bryan
Monday, July 22, 2019
Using the Bus and Getting Out of My Comfort Zone
Once again, it has been an action packed week, packed with plenty of frustrations and a heck of a lot of chaos. We are starting a new project at work that I will be actively involved in. Things have not gotten off to a particularly stellar start, and I allowed my frustrations to get the better of me early on in the week.
One of our customers is expanding their sales into Germany and has an aggressive target for "go live."
While this is nothing new, I found myself getting really worked up about things, particularly since my sales colleagues (and various other colleagues) have said yes to a whole lot of things that are actually beyond our control.
Again, this is nothing new. In my line of work, it has ALWAYS been this way. Everything ends up falling on the ops guy, who happens to be me. For the next couple of days, I was in a funk and couldn't stop asking myself why people kept throwing me under the bus.
During my lunch break Tuesday afternoon, I watched a video of my cousin's recent sermon. My cousin has just started a new appointment in a church in Saint Louis, and it's a bit of a new challenge for him. He had been at his last appointment for 11 years, and his new church has a bigger membership. He had to move out of his old house, move into the new house, and get started in the new role at his church: the sermon I viewed was only his second week there. That is a lot to happen all at once.
Andy's message had a lot to do with being put into uncomfortable situations. Later that evening, I had a chance to put things in perspective. My cousin, like all gifted ministers, used personal experience and common everyday examples in his sermon. Moving house is never an easy task, and one that few people look forward to, but from time to time you have to do it.
I thought about my current challenges with the job, and realized that part of my frustration was simply getting pushed into a new, uncomfortable situation. Even though I am familiar with the upcoming tasks, I do not like being forced to move faster than I feel is realistic (cautious) to accomplish something, and I really do not like working with other individuals who made decisions in effort to please the customer rather than try and understand the reality. To me, this always means that we are setting ourselves up for failure, or at least, not achieving optimal results.
For the rest of the week, I tried to focus on what was really driving me nuts. During the evenings, I got interested in a Danish-Swedish crime series, one that involves a detective who has Asperger syndrome. Like most other Nordic productions, it is slick, dark, and gripping. The detective is extremely competent: by the book and very thorough. However, she lacks a lot of social skills, which presents conflict between herself and her colleagues, as well as with suspects and other people she is in contact with. Because of her lack of emotion, she does not always understand why people react negatively to her comments.
My awareness of this disorder has really grown. I have read up on the subject, and am somewhat glad that a dramatic television series has helped raise this awareness. While I fully respect the seriousness of Asperger syndrome, there are some humorous moments that come up in the series, because of the circumstances.
For example, in one episode the detective has to speak with a distraught parent about a kidnapped child, and rather than try and comfort the parent with hope, she ends up bluntly stating that the likelihood that the child is already dead is very high.
The partner of the detective tries to assist her with her tact, suggesting that she thank her colleagues for their efforts, etc. He goes on to suggest that she try and personally interact with them, which prompts her to join a group having a coffee break and state matter of factly, "I got my period today."
This became rather awkward for the other colleagues, who did not really know how to respond.
As you can imagine, the detective struggles to understand why other colleagues don't approach the job like she does, why they aren't willing to work nonstop through the night, etc.
I recognized some similarities in my own professional situation. I, too, get frustrated when colleagues don't do things "my way," and the more I thought about it as the weekend approached, I realized that this was driving a lot of my anger.
The fear and anxiety with the work project is coming from not only me not wanting to let the side down, but also because I don't like being told what to do, especially when the instructions are to implement a plan that I did not have a part in developing, and one that seems unrealistic and destined for failure. Why? Because I have the feeling that I am being held responsible for something that is outside of my control.
What do I do about it?
Well, for starters, I reminded myself just how capable I am as a professional. My efforts and experience have got me to this point, and even though the past months have been a little quiet on the job front, with too little to do, I reminded myself that having to kick into gear sometimes means that you have to accelerate much faster than you'd like. However, the contrast here has more to do with the fact that things were simply so slow during the first half of the year. Suddenly having to go at full speed is a bit of a shock.
My mother always stated that she felt like she had been shot out of a cannon when waking up in the morning. She was not what people would call a "morning person," one that could awaken and start the day with fresh zeal. This was particularly noticeable when compared to my father, who tends to rise early, get in a workout at the YMCA, read the paper, do the tax returns, schedule 5 appointments, then have breakfast. All before 7h30.
My parents were always aware of this difference and often laughed about it. More importantly, they learned to live with the difference. Maybe saying that the embraced the challenge is a bit of a stretch, but I'll still use the example.
Rather than getting irritated with my colleagues approach the task differently than me, I will rise to the challenge, and embrace it. In short, rather than allow myself to be thrown under the bus, I will slide into the driver seat and take a bit more control. And accept what comes. With joy, with anticipation, and with excitement.
Sure, right now it is not so comfortable, but as it gets more familiar, it will once again become easier.
Effortless mastery in action. Why not?
see you out there
bryan
One of our customers is expanding their sales into Germany and has an aggressive target for "go live."
While this is nothing new, I found myself getting really worked up about things, particularly since my sales colleagues (and various other colleagues) have said yes to a whole lot of things that are actually beyond our control.
Again, this is nothing new. In my line of work, it has ALWAYS been this way. Everything ends up falling on the ops guy, who happens to be me. For the next couple of days, I was in a funk and couldn't stop asking myself why people kept throwing me under the bus.
During my lunch break Tuesday afternoon, I watched a video of my cousin's recent sermon. My cousin has just started a new appointment in a church in Saint Louis, and it's a bit of a new challenge for him. He had been at his last appointment for 11 years, and his new church has a bigger membership. He had to move out of his old house, move into the new house, and get started in the new role at his church: the sermon I viewed was only his second week there. That is a lot to happen all at once.
Andy's message had a lot to do with being put into uncomfortable situations. Later that evening, I had a chance to put things in perspective. My cousin, like all gifted ministers, used personal experience and common everyday examples in his sermon. Moving house is never an easy task, and one that few people look forward to, but from time to time you have to do it.
I thought about my current challenges with the job, and realized that part of my frustration was simply getting pushed into a new, uncomfortable situation. Even though I am familiar with the upcoming tasks, I do not like being forced to move faster than I feel is realistic (cautious) to accomplish something, and I really do not like working with other individuals who made decisions in effort to please the customer rather than try and understand the reality. To me, this always means that we are setting ourselves up for failure, or at least, not achieving optimal results.
For the rest of the week, I tried to focus on what was really driving me nuts. During the evenings, I got interested in a Danish-Swedish crime series, one that involves a detective who has Asperger syndrome. Like most other Nordic productions, it is slick, dark, and gripping. The detective is extremely competent: by the book and very thorough. However, she lacks a lot of social skills, which presents conflict between herself and her colleagues, as well as with suspects and other people she is in contact with. Because of her lack of emotion, she does not always understand why people react negatively to her comments.
My awareness of this disorder has really grown. I have read up on the subject, and am somewhat glad that a dramatic television series has helped raise this awareness. While I fully respect the seriousness of Asperger syndrome, there are some humorous moments that come up in the series, because of the circumstances.
For example, in one episode the detective has to speak with a distraught parent about a kidnapped child, and rather than try and comfort the parent with hope, she ends up bluntly stating that the likelihood that the child is already dead is very high.
The partner of the detective tries to assist her with her tact, suggesting that she thank her colleagues for their efforts, etc. He goes on to suggest that she try and personally interact with them, which prompts her to join a group having a coffee break and state matter of factly, "I got my period today."
This became rather awkward for the other colleagues, who did not really know how to respond.
As you can imagine, the detective struggles to understand why other colleagues don't approach the job like she does, why they aren't willing to work nonstop through the night, etc.
I recognized some similarities in my own professional situation. I, too, get frustrated when colleagues don't do things "my way," and the more I thought about it as the weekend approached, I realized that this was driving a lot of my anger.
The fear and anxiety with the work project is coming from not only me not wanting to let the side down, but also because I don't like being told what to do, especially when the instructions are to implement a plan that I did not have a part in developing, and one that seems unrealistic and destined for failure. Why? Because I have the feeling that I am being held responsible for something that is outside of my control.
What do I do about it?
Well, for starters, I reminded myself just how capable I am as a professional. My efforts and experience have got me to this point, and even though the past months have been a little quiet on the job front, with too little to do, I reminded myself that having to kick into gear sometimes means that you have to accelerate much faster than you'd like. However, the contrast here has more to do with the fact that things were simply so slow during the first half of the year. Suddenly having to go at full speed is a bit of a shock.
My mother always stated that she felt like she had been shot out of a cannon when waking up in the morning. She was not what people would call a "morning person," one that could awaken and start the day with fresh zeal. This was particularly noticeable when compared to my father, who tends to rise early, get in a workout at the YMCA, read the paper, do the tax returns, schedule 5 appointments, then have breakfast. All before 7h30.
My parents were always aware of this difference and often laughed about it. More importantly, they learned to live with the difference. Maybe saying that the embraced the challenge is a bit of a stretch, but I'll still use the example.
Rather than getting irritated with my colleagues approach the task differently than me, I will rise to the challenge, and embrace it. In short, rather than allow myself to be thrown under the bus, I will slide into the driver seat and take a bit more control. And accept what comes. With joy, with anticipation, and with excitement.
Sure, right now it is not so comfortable, but as it gets more familiar, it will once again become easier.
Effortless mastery in action. Why not?
see you out there
bryan
Saturday, July 13, 2019
Bad Karaoke and Squeaky Sambas
After my last post, I spent the Saturday evening watching a couple of movies that I first saw as a teenager back in the 80s. I came across Conan the Barbarian as I flicked through the available stuff in Netflix and ended up watching it all the way through. Afterwards, feeling the need for something to stimulate my mind, I made it a double feature night and proceeded to watch Driving Miss Daisy.
I have always had a tendency towards extreme contrasts. If I happen to watch a movie that absolutely scares the shit out of me, I immediately watch something like Brother Bear or Finding Nemo to help bring the warm fuzzies back. Even though my record collection is filled heavily with a lot of punk and darker rock and roll, I am able to (rather happily) have an in depth conversation about the compositions of Rodgers and Hammerstein at any time. And I am certainly not the only person who finds need for something a little salty (like peanuts or potato chips) after eating a really sweet dessert.
On Sunday morning, I woke up thinking, "Gee, I probably could have waited another 30 years before watching Conan, but why did I wait so long before watching Driving Miss Daisy?"
Interestingly enough, back in high school, I can't remember anyone admitting that they saw the Oscar winning picture, but EVERYONE had seen Conan. In fairness, I can recall standing around at a punk show in a local club, wearing a Clash t-shirt and electing NOT to bring up the fact that I had watched The Sound of Music the previous evening.
At any rate, I have spent this past week thinking about contrasts, particularly musical contrasts. I continue to work on some songs where I am adding vocals. Last month, I sat down and listed all the songs that I felt like I wanted to experiment with. Almost all of them are songs that I first heard (and loved) back in the 80s, and over the years I have played around with a piano interpretation of the original song. True, with several, the original was also played on piano, but in a couple of cases, the artist did a piano adaptation a few years after the original was released.
Rather than attempting to find the original sheet music, I learn the basics by ear; listening to the song over and over again. Sometimes I scratch out a chord progression first, then adapt as I play around with the melody. This is a fairly standard approach, and completely different from how I play pieces that are more classical (and without lyrics), where I stick with the original notation.
It is a very fulfilling experience, playing a piece by ear. Sometimes I will change the tempo, playing faster (or slower), and other times I will change the octaves. Every once in awhile, I will change the key, and this has been particularly relevant when adding vocals. However, I recognize my vocal range, and like to stick to the original key when possible. This can be a little limiting, especially since my voice is kind of deep.
Because I apply a certain element of improvisation to the songs, I do not always play something the same way (with the same notes) each time. I play around with a piece for a while, then listen to some of the recordings, then gradually settle on a sort of final version.
Then, I start working on the vocals, which, in my case, requires a lot of focus, and a shitload of reminders from Kenny Werner; "Every note you sing is the most beautiful sound in the world."
I got thrown off track (literally) this week when listening to a couple of my recent tracks. One track that I had hastily recorded the day before really stood out as a prime example as to why karaoke is never a good thing. I was standing on my balcony, cup of coffee in hand, listening and thinking, "Geez, who the hell is singing that?"
It was if Grape Ape and Baby Huey had a small skirmish before entering the studio to sing.
I laughed out loud, then reminded myself of a few important words of wisdom. First, the mental note to work on pitch. Second, it's all easy, but not familiar. As it becomes more familiar, it gets even better. Third, it's all about perception. If you tell yourself that it sucks, then it will suck. Fourth, another mental note: close the windows in the living room before recording vocal. At least there won't be the sound of a passing motor scooter in the background.
Home studio recording is still a work in progress for me. Recording piano is very straight forward, as I can send the audio output directly to a mixer/recorder. Vocals are more challenging, and even though I have some quality equipment, it is quality equipment set up in a living room. My flat is a grown up version of my place at Little Goliad, and both places are not unlike a college dorm room of someone with a little more money. I suspect that the Erhebungsbeauftrager (yep, that one is really fun to say out loud) who came by to collect some information earlier in the week for the microcensus was thinking about that when he glanced at the Smiths poster on my wall.
The microphone in my living room is next to the piano, and connected to a small mixer, which connects to a computer. I make it work, and am satisfied with the current set up, all the while knowing that I would love to have the space and the funds for something a bit more extravagant.
On the other hand, I hold the belief that the skill lies with the individual; anything else can only serve to complement. For example, a guitarist with minimal experience can play the finest Martin guitar available, and still sound inexperienced. True, the quality of the sound produced might be better (probably a lot better) but it will not make the player a professional.
I consider myself more skilled in playing piano than singing, but I enjoy both activities. Due to my interest in doing (spoken) voice-over work at some point in my future, I am actively getting to know my voice better, and that includes the singing. Hence, the recent(-ish) time spent playing rockstar at home.
On top of that, I am learning just a little bit about the finer points of sound engineering. Again, it's unfamiliar, and will only get easier as it goes along. This week I decided to bring out my new Sambas, which had been sitting in their shoe box for the past couple of years, waiting to be worn. I'd actually forgotten about them until I discovered them at the bottom of the closet.
Like with a lot of new shoes, they squeak; something I discovered immediately after putting them on and walking around on my hardwood floors. This made for some rather interesting additions to one of the vocal tracks. I was both extremely impressed by the quality and sensitivity of my microphone, but equally irritated that currently anyone can hear me walking from a good 10 meters away.
But, if these are the kind of problems that I am going to have, I can live with it. After all, they are solvable problems.
The rest comes down to perception, and again, I take the time to reaffirm a few concepts:
It's the best sound in the world.
Don't try so hard.
It only gets easier as it becomes more familiar.
One of the best things that came from all this adventure (ie..Grape Ape walking in a rainstorm) is that I was able to key in on a couple of improvisational music passages that I had been struggling with, and I am really pleased on how they have improved.
It's almost effortless.
see you out there
bryan
I have always had a tendency towards extreme contrasts. If I happen to watch a movie that absolutely scares the shit out of me, I immediately watch something like Brother Bear or Finding Nemo to help bring the warm fuzzies back. Even though my record collection is filled heavily with a lot of punk and darker rock and roll, I am able to (rather happily) have an in depth conversation about the compositions of Rodgers and Hammerstein at any time. And I am certainly not the only person who finds need for something a little salty (like peanuts or potato chips) after eating a really sweet dessert.
On Sunday morning, I woke up thinking, "Gee, I probably could have waited another 30 years before watching Conan, but why did I wait so long before watching Driving Miss Daisy?"
Interestingly enough, back in high school, I can't remember anyone admitting that they saw the Oscar winning picture, but EVERYONE had seen Conan. In fairness, I can recall standing around at a punk show in a local club, wearing a Clash t-shirt and electing NOT to bring up the fact that I had watched The Sound of Music the previous evening.
At any rate, I have spent this past week thinking about contrasts, particularly musical contrasts. I continue to work on some songs where I am adding vocals. Last month, I sat down and listed all the songs that I felt like I wanted to experiment with. Almost all of them are songs that I first heard (and loved) back in the 80s, and over the years I have played around with a piano interpretation of the original song. True, with several, the original was also played on piano, but in a couple of cases, the artist did a piano adaptation a few years after the original was released.
Rather than attempting to find the original sheet music, I learn the basics by ear; listening to the song over and over again. Sometimes I scratch out a chord progression first, then adapt as I play around with the melody. This is a fairly standard approach, and completely different from how I play pieces that are more classical (and without lyrics), where I stick with the original notation.
It is a very fulfilling experience, playing a piece by ear. Sometimes I will change the tempo, playing faster (or slower), and other times I will change the octaves. Every once in awhile, I will change the key, and this has been particularly relevant when adding vocals. However, I recognize my vocal range, and like to stick to the original key when possible. This can be a little limiting, especially since my voice is kind of deep.
Because I apply a certain element of improvisation to the songs, I do not always play something the same way (with the same notes) each time. I play around with a piece for a while, then listen to some of the recordings, then gradually settle on a sort of final version.
Then, I start working on the vocals, which, in my case, requires a lot of focus, and a shitload of reminders from Kenny Werner; "Every note you sing is the most beautiful sound in the world."
I got thrown off track (literally) this week when listening to a couple of my recent tracks. One track that I had hastily recorded the day before really stood out as a prime example as to why karaoke is never a good thing. I was standing on my balcony, cup of coffee in hand, listening and thinking, "Geez, who the hell is singing that?"
It was if Grape Ape and Baby Huey had a small skirmish before entering the studio to sing.
I laughed out loud, then reminded myself of a few important words of wisdom. First, the mental note to work on pitch. Second, it's all easy, but not familiar. As it becomes more familiar, it gets even better. Third, it's all about perception. If you tell yourself that it sucks, then it will suck. Fourth, another mental note: close the windows in the living room before recording vocal. At least there won't be the sound of a passing motor scooter in the background.
Home studio recording is still a work in progress for me. Recording piano is very straight forward, as I can send the audio output directly to a mixer/recorder. Vocals are more challenging, and even though I have some quality equipment, it is quality equipment set up in a living room. My flat is a grown up version of my place at Little Goliad, and both places are not unlike a college dorm room of someone with a little more money. I suspect that the Erhebungsbeauftrager (yep, that one is really fun to say out loud) who came by to collect some information earlier in the week for the microcensus was thinking about that when he glanced at the Smiths poster on my wall.
The microphone in my living room is next to the piano, and connected to a small mixer, which connects to a computer. I make it work, and am satisfied with the current set up, all the while knowing that I would love to have the space and the funds for something a bit more extravagant.
On the other hand, I hold the belief that the skill lies with the individual; anything else can only serve to complement. For example, a guitarist with minimal experience can play the finest Martin guitar available, and still sound inexperienced. True, the quality of the sound produced might be better (probably a lot better) but it will not make the player a professional.
I consider myself more skilled in playing piano than singing, but I enjoy both activities. Due to my interest in doing (spoken) voice-over work at some point in my future, I am actively getting to know my voice better, and that includes the singing. Hence, the recent(-ish) time spent playing rockstar at home.
On top of that, I am learning just a little bit about the finer points of sound engineering. Again, it's unfamiliar, and will only get easier as it goes along. This week I decided to bring out my new Sambas, which had been sitting in their shoe box for the past couple of years, waiting to be worn. I'd actually forgotten about them until I discovered them at the bottom of the closet.
Like with a lot of new shoes, they squeak; something I discovered immediately after putting them on and walking around on my hardwood floors. This made for some rather interesting additions to one of the vocal tracks. I was both extremely impressed by the quality and sensitivity of my microphone, but equally irritated that currently anyone can hear me walking from a good 10 meters away.
But, if these are the kind of problems that I am going to have, I can live with it. After all, they are solvable problems.
The rest comes down to perception, and again, I take the time to reaffirm a few concepts:
It's the best sound in the world.
Don't try so hard.
It only gets easier as it becomes more familiar.
One of the best things that came from all this adventure (ie..Grape Ape walking in a rainstorm) is that I was able to key in on a couple of improvisational music passages that I had been struggling with, and I am really pleased on how they have improved.
It's almost effortless.
see you out there
bryan
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