Camping! With My Class! All Week!

Yes. It is true. I am going to a camp with my 8 and 9-year-olds for the week. A camp that is four hours away from Berlin. On a bus.

Dear me.

Buckaroo and Muffinhead are coming to Deutschland!

Also known as: my baby sisters. Who now, at 17 and almost 21 years old, are not so much babies anymore. In fact, both of them are taller than I at this point.

It will be quite a Thanksgiving celebration!

Yippee!

I will never complain about Germans again...

This morning, I lost my favorite running shirt. It was the green and white one I got when I ran the Fleet Feet Women's 10k back in Chicago. I really love this shirt, as it is the perfect breathability, sleeveless, and also has a big orange flower on the front. The shirt rocks.

In anticipation of my Thursday Track and Field practice (I have been the assistant coach for about a month or so now, which basically means I rake the sand during long jump and have gotten really good at hitting the stopwatch button), I washed said shirt last night and, this being Germany, I don't have a dryer...so it was still wet this morning. I hung it from my bike basket as I rode into work. This seemed like a brilliant plan.

But when I got to work, my shirt had disappeared. I was very sad. And then I remembered.

I live in Germany. The land where you can lose something and 99.9 percent of the time, whoever finds it will somehow get it back to you. Remember my handschuhe reunion?

I was heartened by this prospect, and fretted no longer. As I rode off towards Track practice after school, I reversed my route which infuriated many people, as I was on the wrong side of the bike path. But I needed to see if my hunch was right. I was certain that my shirt would be waiting for me.

And sure enough, about halfway there, I came to a cement post upon which was my shirt, laid out for the finding. I shrieked in happiness, earning stares from the elderly couple sitting at the stoplight.

"Ist mein! Ist mein! Ich liebe Deutschland!" I shouted.

They smiled.

I grinned.

You know some punkass would have stolen my shirt in the States.

The Germans are good Volk.

My Apartment=Helsinki

I am having a party tonight. Not just any party. A Eurovision Party!

What is Eurovision, you ask? (I am guessing most of the people asking that question are not European, and likely members of my family or fellow North Amerikaners like myself.) The answer: I don't know. (Okay, I know a little. I wikipediaed it. Love Wikipedia. Think it would be a good name for a first-born. Wikipedia O'Neill. Yup.)

Wikipedia describes Eurovision as such: "The Song Contest is known for being a bastion of formulaic, camp, and often comically poor pop music. However, the prevalence of such songs and the show's "tongue in cheek" approach to competition has only served to develop it an international cult following. In addition to mainstream pop music, Eurovision has featured a vast, diverse array of songs, including such musical genres as Arab, Balkan, Celtic, Dance, Folk, German, Israeli, Greek, Latin, Nordic, Pop-rap, Rock, and Turkish. Occasionally, nationally famous recording artists use the show to successfully increase their international recognition (such as ABBA [Sweden 1974] and Celine Dion [Switzerland 1988])."

Dear me. I am pretty sure it will be awesome.

My friend Carmen is super into Eurovision, despite the fact that she is an Aussie by birth. She is hard core into this annual contest between various European countries (which somehow, according to the Eurovision rules incorporates Israel as part of the European continent). Anyway, Carmen does not have a TV. I do. Therefore, I am host. Yippee!

This year, the contest takes place in Helsinki, Finland, as Finland was the winner of Eurovision 2006. Therefore, in a few hours, Carmen and Katie (a fellow Hoosier!) will be coming over to turn my apartment into a blue and white Nordic wonderland. For my part, I bought way too much food from different European countries. We will be munching on Belgian Waffle Crisps, Turkish Pretzel Sticks, English Cheddar, Deutsche Butterkäse (German Butter Cheese), little Italian Cookies, Portuguese Wine, Spanish Olives, Greek Feta Cheese, Swiss Cheese (or as they call it in Switzerland: cheese), French Herbed Cheese, and fruit which I will pretend was grown in Europe but I think mostly came from Brazil. (Too much cheese? Doch. Silly question.) Of course, this would be even more fun if all of those Western European countries were actually finalists in the Eurovision 2007 contest which airs at 9pm Central European Time tonight. Instead, lots of Eastern European countries have made it to the last night of competition and are vying for the same sort of glory and fame enjoyed by previous winners like last year's winners: Lordi. Oh my.

England, France, Germany, and Spain always get to be in the finals because I guess they give a lot of money to Eurovision or something. Germany's song is loosely translated as "Women Rule the World." I would vote for this one based on the name, but you are not allowed to vote for your own country. 'Cause that would be sort of unfair for poor Moldova.

Here are the final 24:

1	Bosnia & Herzegovina	Maria ŠESTIĆ	Rijeka Bez Imena
2	Spain	D'NASH	I Love You Mi Vida
3	Belarus	Koldun	Work Your Magic
4	Ireland	DERVISH	They Can't Stop The Spring
5	Finland	Hanna PAKARINEN	Leave Me Alone
6	FYR Macedonia	Karolina	Mojot Svet
7	Slovenia	Alenka GOTAR	Cvet Z Juga
8	Hungary	Magdi RÚZSA	Unsubstantial Blues
9	Lithuania	4FUN	Love Or Leave
10	Greece	Sarbel	Yassou Maria
11	Georgia	Sopho	Visionary Dream
12	Sweden	THE ARK	The Worrying Kind
13	France	LES FATALS PICARDS	L'amour À La Française
14	Latvia	BONAPARTI.LV	Questa Notte
15	Russia	SEREBRO	Song #1
16	Germany	Roger CICERO	Frauen Regier'n Die Welt
17	Serbia	Marija ŠERIFOVIĆ	Molitva
18	Ukraine	Verka SERDUCHKA	Dancing Lasha Tumbai
19	United Kingdom	SCOOCH	Flying The Flag (For You)
20	Romania	TODOMONDO	Liubi, Liubi, I Love You
21	Bulgaria	Elitsa TODOROVA & Stoyan YANKOULOV	Water
22	Turkey	Kenan DOĞULU	Shake It Up, Shekerim
23	Armenia	Hayko	Anytime You Need
24	Moldova	Natalia BARBU	Fight

I like that the UK band is called "Scooch." And I can't wait to hear what on Earth a song called "Luibi, Luibi, I Love You" might sound like. I like that Hungary's song is called "Unsubstantial Blues." Having Goulash as your national food is enough of a reason to substantiate my blues. Gah.

Seriously. This night will rock.

'Cause we're going to live it up Finnish-style, man. Yeah.

Did I mention I have two kinds of Herring?

The Baumblüten Festival or How J. got v. drunk drinking Wine out of a Plastic Jug.

I think the pictures speak for themselves. I was the only one who brought a camera (it seems I have learned nothing from my beer-soaked camera disaster on New Year's Eve) but somehow ended up in many of the photos. Proof that I was not paying very close attention to my friends' sticky fingers when it comes to my electronic equipment.

I was also not paying attention to the amount of wine I was consuming throughout the day. The stuff tasted like Capri Sun for God's sake. They might as well served it in juice boxes.

You can see the progression of my downfall right here. The last shot is when I decided I should join my friends on the potato sack slide. I recollected this event around 11am the next morning. Thank goodness my school friends were kind enough to capture the momentous occasion on film. Actually, on SmartMediaCard. That really doesn't have the same ring to it.

But at least I could delete the worst shots.

These are the good ones, folks. C'mon. My mom reads this!

At least she claims she does.

The Color of the Sky...

...as far as I can see, is coal grey.
Lift my head from the pillow and then, fall again.
I get a shiver in my bones just thinking, about the weather.
A quiver in my voice as if I might cry.

What a cold and rainy day. Where on Earth has the sun hid away?


I do love that Natalie Merchant song. But seriously. The weather here has been crap. I mean, I know we need rain for the plants and stuff, but 6 days straight?

It makes my hair look weird.

Clubbing

After a failed attempt to go do some Karaoke, I went clubbing with a couple of girls from work. First we went to this great place that played cheesy 80s music upstairs, and cheesy hip-hop music downstairs. It smelled like feet. I am thinking ventilation would have helped.

Then we went to this place called "Felix." It is some sort of hot new club where there is a dress code, everyone thinks they are übercool if they get past the velvet rope, and you have to pay 10€ just to get through the door. Of course, it is always interesting to see the insides of these places that you read about in the tabloids and such. But I can't understand how anyone can have that fabulous of a time grinding away with a bunch of rich (and mostly unattractive, sorry!) dudes and nearly anorexic 20-year-olds. Of course, I did enjoy looking at their cute outfits. Except for the lady in the leather zebra-print "dress."

I suppose this just confirms that I am a pub girl not a club kid. I'd much prefer to sit at a massive oak bar, chatting to a guy in a long-sleeved t-shirt than attempting to squirm away from the shiny-shirted gentleman getting down in my general direction.

I felt slightly uncool (and old) as I told my twenty-something friends that I was heading out, while they basked in the glow of the strobe light. I had to make it an early night, and I was getting really tired. Of course, at this point it was 4am. Which does qualify as an early night in Berlin, the clubbing capital of Europe. Next weekend, I am definitely going to go the pub route! Either I am too old or I just don't have the personality for clubbing these days...

I just woke up...it is 1:30pm. I've missed Sunday morning. Bummer.

And my hair smells like feet.

Cow-Making on German TV

Lately I have been trying to watch television more, as I feel it is a good learning experience. Just like I did back in Chicago, I plop on the couch after a long day with the kids and watch The Simpsons. Homer says "Nein," instead of "D'oh." And the voices are super-weird. But that is not the disturbing issue which has prompted me to write my third post in three days. It was the show that came on after The Simpsons this evening.

It started out innocently enough. This show called Galileo (I have no idea why it is called this, but it appears to be some sort of random newsmagazine sort of thing, and the host is way too tan) was doing a top ten countdown of the most popular food services in Germany. This in and of itself was a bit strange. The cafeteria at IKEA was number 7, Lufthansa's airline food service was number 3, and McDonald's ranked second to...the generic Großekafeteria. I'm sure I spelled that wrong, but whatever. It is the big cafeteria that apparently exists in office buildings, and I hear that workers get a free lunch. Looked a bit like Ponderosa to me, so I am glad I don't benefit from this service at my job. Gross.

Once the top ten was over, the host asked nicely enough: "What makes Argentinian steak the best in the world?" And then there was a wide panning shot of an Argentinian farm with a bunch of happy looking cows roaming around, unaware that they had the tastiest beef on the planet positioned on their backsides. Lucky them. Then it happened...

The next shot was of a bull having sex with a fake cow. Then a close-up of the bull's babymaker. Then an extreme close-up of the "stuff." Then a microscopic view of the little swimmers. They then went into a very detailed explanation of how Artentinian cows are artificially inseminated. It was beyond bizarre...mostly because I couldn't understand 95% of what was being said, as of course, it was in German. Somehow that made the expression on the face of the guy doing the inseminating much creepier.

Did I mention it is now just 7:30pm? I'm sorry, but around this time of night I would much prefer to be watching the local evening news than fake cow sex.

Who am I kidding? Fake cow sex totally beats the news.

I guess moving to Europe has not had the classy effect on me that I had hoped it would.

Hee. It was bovine porn. Hee. Hee.

My Summer en Paris

It is all set, folks. I have a flat, a flight, and a confirmation number for an intensive French course that lasts all of July.

I am leaving the day after school gets out (the cheap flight lands at night, so I will be meandering my way to my new apartment in the dark!) and I come back three days before school starts up again. An entire summer in Paris!

Thank God I have many cute skirts and flats so I will fit in with the Parisians. I will also make sure I am always carrying a crusty baguette under one arm as well.

I wonder if the baguette will last all summer. I don't care for white bread. Too light and fluffy and full of empty calories. I like the dark kind with all of the seeds and fiber. Good, heavy, chewy bread that really sets you up for the whole day. Vollkorn Brot, I believe it is called.

Any wild guesses where it hails from?