Tuesday, November 30, 2004

OMG Posted by Hello

Apartment Laundry Competitive Speed Juggling

New Sport:

How fast can you tear other people's laundry out of a machine when you know it has been sitting there for 20 minutes after being done and you refuse to wait any longer and there is a distinct possibility that some International Business Zentrum guy will come in and find you scrambling around with his boxers in your hands like some perv with a thing for stealing strange men's underpants (only, of course, if they're wet and soapy)?

Fast.

Phew. Reigning champion, right here.
Don't worry V, I stuck his clothes in the dryer for him, not on the floor or on top of the filthy machines, and I made quite sure there were no foreign objects (i.e. tubes of fluorescent lipstick) in the dryer before I chucked his stuff in.

I did not, however, start it for him. He's wasted my time, I'm not wasting my tokens.

Cheers

Something I'll always wonder...

(...until I find the answer)
...and expanding on an earlier subject:

Fornication Under Consent of the King

Medieval urban legend...

Or actual origin of the word?

Woah, read that again as Alan Cross. That is so his voice.
Sorry, making obscure young Canadian reference.

Monday, November 29, 2004

Wave of Mutilation

(it's a Pixies song, guys, and if you didn't know that, you're obviously crazy -- either that or you haven't appreciated Pump Up the Volume to the full scope of its brilliance)

I woke up with this yucky feeling in my stomach this morning. Not a physical yucky, but a yucky brought on by my familiar friend anxiety. I hate this feeling because most of the time I can't place the source. I've been a bit of a dink lately I'll admit, but not one thing is making me feel particularly guilty, but maybe my subconscious disagrees. Anyway, I'm living with this feeling of unease at the moment, that feeling that everyone gets from time to time, "What if secretly nobody likes me?" Or maybe that's just me -- and I have just revealed the depth of my neurosis. Oh no! Now they all know how F-ING CRAZY I AM. Right, like I can hide it in the first place.

So what's my solution? To harass everyone with e-mails (I feel an update coming on!) until they finally tear their attention away from the importance which is end-of-semester stressing and pet me gently saying "It's okay A, it's okay."

Don't worry, I'm trying to restrain my finger from the SEND button.

Worryingly, part of the feeling seems to stem from my complete brain atrophy these past 3 months. People complaining about school work is starting to make me drool, like some deranged Pavlovian test subject. I know, I know "Take it, we don't want it." But seriously, I feel like I'm getting dumber. Or maybe I should say, I feel like I'm getting more "artistic." The most intellectual thing I'm engaged in right now is my own writing, and while it amuses, it does not satisfy without a DEADLINE.

Right. I'm going away to read some D.H. Lawrence. So I can feel MORE abstract. Hurrah. F-ing F.

BTW: I'm going to take the comment option off this f-ing website, because the 0 Comments bar below each post has become demeaning.

Oh, and I'm putting up pictures of the Wienacht Markt near D&R's apt on the other site, if you're in need of a little Christmas cheer after reading that.

I have to go do some f-ing dishes now.

And if you're under 18, or related to me in anyway, by F I mean Fudge. I am cussing with a dessert item.

In the past 4 days I have...

Met:
4 German emo kids
1 Swedish astrophysicist and his 2 siblings
1 very mellow German junkie
1 bachelorette party scamming for money
1 bachelorette - who was so queened up I had doubts as to her qualificaions to BE a bachelorette.
1 creepy football fan dressed like Vanilla Ice
1 old lady with alzheimer's
2 unenthusiastic police officers

Been involved in:
1 domestic dispute - not including any members of my own family.

Votes?

Sunday, November 28, 2004

As per your request *wink*

So you have to look at this picture sequence backwards.
This is what we did yesterday during the day. Last night we went out with MR, and really broke him for his soccer *ahem* football game this morning. But at least we went to cheer him on in his misery. I hope he gets enough sleep this aft.

So I have many stories to relate about these past few days, but too many for one post, and too many to bother with right now. It's 3:40 pm and I'm going back to bed. Have a date with D&R to watch The Barbarian Invasions at 5. So.

Apologies to people I emailed last night... uh... promise coherent ones later. Deal?

Okay.


6. Our destination: mulled wine. Posted by Hello


5. For emphasis -- really good view, camera doesn't do it justice at all. Posted by Hello


4. We hike: dude, check out the mountains! Posted by Hello


3. We leave the restaurant (it is now raining) to hike through the woods -- to walk off all the meat we'v just eaten, and beer we've just drunk. Posted by Hello


wir getrinken (?) Posted by Hello


Let me walk you through our system... of course you're going to have to walk backwards because that's the way this thing posts, but you get it. This is picture 1. We start here for lunch and drink. Posted by Hello

Friday, November 26, 2004

Dear Chef of the Piccola,

How self-absorbed are you? We were not admiring your beauty, as we turned in our chairs to look. We were trying to read the menu board behind your head. Do not flex and preen at me. Bloody move. Cook my damn meal, and quit staring at me in the mirror -- I'm NOT checking you out, because A: I'm NOT interested, and B: I'm much too hung over to flirt with you anyway. Go away and do your job.

Ugh

Today I remember why I stopped drinking.

Thursday, November 25, 2004

I had a moment

-- one of those moments where you're just like, ah, yes, this is good.

I spent the day at the Bavarian International School with D today, we worked out in the gym before we left, which left me feeling like oxygen was reaching my limbs for the first time in months.

We drove home along the motorway, into the sunset which was gold and pink, and purple through the clouds. There was mist in the forest below the road, and in the light it was mauve. An orchestral version of Green Sleeves was playing on the radio, and the road's so flat and new there isn't a single jostle. It was perfect, and I had one of those moments of total relaxation that are so rare for me. There's usually some part of me that's ready to jump at the slightest stimulus, but right then, I could have melted into the seat cushions.

I managed to keep the remnants of this feeling through the rush hour in the grocery store at Karstadt, through the metro ride home, and as I walked to my building I sang:

Greensleeves. And Bob Dylan.
Today everything meshes. I hope you're all feeling the same.

Cheers.

Wednesday, November 24, 2004


For the record, I was sitting up there when the stone=cold episode came to pass. Posted by Hello

Why I hate children:

-- because they hated me first.

I hear some strange sounds when I'm alone in this apartment. Beneath us there is a conference room that hosts various events, and sometimes at night I hear applause. Today for the second time this week I heard a woman practicing some opera. And also for the second time, I heard a baby crying. This time however, I could identify the source of noise: in the courtyard beside ours, which I can see into from my kitchen window, there was a little girl, I'd guess about 4 years old, screaming her guts out. No parents in sight. I watch for a while thinking, okay, should I do something? Try to get into the closed courtyard, try to alert someone who actually SPEAKS German? But after watching the kid for a while, I begin to understand the true nature of her hysterics. She was not in distress, she was not scared of being by herself, no... She was really f-ing pissed off and did NOT want to be outside anymore. And who can blame her? No one else in the surrounding area wanted her to be there anymore either. However, in a rare sympathetic mood for a crying child, I was still concerned for her, and so in between relating the story to N, I dashed back and forth to the kitchen window to keep checking on her. Once I saw a woman come up and try to talk to her, but apparently without success, and continue into the building. The child continued to cry. Finally, I could stand it no longer, and stood in front of the window trying to decide whether I should run put my shoes on, or .... yes, I opened the window and leaned out (the only good thing about no screens on windows, leaning out possibilities). She immediately saw me and stopped crying. We stared at eachother. Now what?
"Are you okay?" I asked, thinking, okay -- that's a universal expression right? I tried again. "Where's your mom?" Still nothing. "Is she inside?" Batting zero, and moving away from anything the child will have ANY hope of understanding. We stared some more, both of us, I think, completely at a loss as to what to do next. Finally, the child edged away into the entrance hall of the building, and stared at me fearfully from there. Great. I really saved that situation. Now child is cowering in entryway. Perfect.
I closed the window, thinking, Behold! The A-Effect. Child runs and hides. I just don't got it.

But at least she stopped f-ing crying.

The next time I checked the window, the kid had gone inside.

Oh...man

Can we say Publicity Stunt? Or maybe we'd rather sigh and shake our heads sadly, "Oh Colin, you used to be such a nice boy... at least in Ballykissangel."

Thoughts for breakfast

Why, oh why, do they put wheat in yoghurt? (that's right, I spelled that with an h.) And why, oh why, did I have to accidentally buy said yoghurt? I guess to go with the also mistakenly bought Vanilla Coke.

Crap.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

How the "angel" lost her wings

Feeling very proud of myself because got out today with Mom to buy materials for making christmas cards, and started on said cards this aft. Everything went swimmingly until this one, where suddenly I lost all artistic ability, and also forgot that traditionally, angels should have some aerial form of transportation(does that make sense? anyway, you get it.) but this one, it seems, would have to be airlifted by helicopter suspended by wires. She's the new millenium's answer to angels now being required to have clearance at major international airports -- they could be terrorists after all. Also she's superbly ugly. So... no one gets this card. Mom says we'll stick it around the apt to make it look like we have more friends, and if someone happens to actually look at it, or god forbid read it, she'll say she has some really weird friends -- as opposed to her really weird daughter.
Could someone e-mail me, and give me something to do? Thx.


The angel that went horribly wrong, is salvaged in the very best way -- by sarcasm Posted by Hello


can't stop the irreverence Posted by Hello

Monday, November 22, 2004

Thought of the day

How long will it take until I shake this lightweight-drunkeness and make it back to my First Year tolerance? It makes me feel old... and young... at the same time...??

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Generic update blog entry

Ha, what a boring title. N/M.

Yesterday spent the whole day around Marienplatz, shopping our way from food stop to food stop, and drinking all the time, starting at 11:30 with sausages and weissbier -- a Bavarian breakfast. Miraculously was not completely wasted 12 hours later, but still needed remedial hydration from all the alcohol. Lovely time though -- the most I've eaten in one day, probably since I left Canada.

I've also procured, with D's help, a card for the Film Passage, which has an incredible collection of English & subtitled English films. Here I've spent so much time reading classics, and now I can swap to watching them, as that after all is at the moment much more useful to me in the immediate future. My heart goes out to V who has just had to watch Daughters of the Dust for the THIRD time in less than a year, not to mention actually having to WRITE something about it -- when you come my darling we shall gorge ourselves on the greats! Hurrah! Just one of the many things I hope will make up for the absolute circus you've had to deal with to get here...

J and I have been faithfully restoring our night life, all be it with a membership of 2 (possibly we'll extend this, if DE's friend MR will be good enough to have us?) We've been smoking (-not inhaling-) cigarillos and drinking too much beer. My newly acquired talent this year will be smoke rings (among other things). I shall come home from Abroad being able to blow smoke rings. I'll add it to my other party tricks, such as the one where I tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue. Sooo accomplished!

Has been snowing/raining for days now, but the sun came out briefly Saturday afternoon, and is now shining brilliantly. The Kristkindmarkts are getting set up for next weekend, which reminds me I need to get my ass in gear with the post. I shall conquer my post office fear and pay exorbitant fees to send out my cards on time.

Cheers.

Thursday, November 18, 2004

Pardonnez-moi?

Have just been woken up out of dead sleep by phone ringing insistently. Stumbled over to it, said "hello?" and was greeted by French. You know you're bilingual when, after 6 hours of sleep you can...
- switch without thinking, or being particularly startled
- be sure to make no grammatical errors
- be sure to vous-vois
- remember to tone down the Marseillaise accent
- still be coherent to the elderly African woman on the phone, asking about J's hips and offering the name of a doctor she knows.

Still, after very little sleep, it must have been obvious to Mme that I was not particularly inclined to take the name of this doctor. So she said J had her number if he should want to call her, and to say hello to my parents.
All in all, very cute. But very early. blah.

Cheers

Monday, November 15, 2004


in apt in front of cyprus hedge -- wall of josh's "room." Funny, they did say 3 bedrooms, but really meant 3 rooms, period. Posted by Hello

Chapter 2: Concerning the Germans

... In which our heroine eases indolence and has a strange encounter.

After a weekend of heavy drinking and semi-starvation due to resulting hangovers, A slumped on Sunday into a state of extreme idleness, verging on lethargy. She did not shower, nor did she in fact ever remove her pajamas. It's an interesting thing when one reaches a point so lazy that one actually becomes too lazy to eat. Impossible! you may cry, lolling and eating go hand in hand, dancing through the daisies (November daisies, mind), singing tra la la! Well, certainly then, you have never been so lazy as A has been just recently. To move her from bed and force feed her a bit of chop was an effort of extreme will on the part of her family.
However, all was not lost -- resolving not to slip into a state of permanent vegetation, A woke herself early the next morning, performed her ablutions, and went out for a bit of a jaunt in Englischer Gardens, carrying with her her faithful notebook, in case the glorious sun shining through the leaves should strike a chord, which indeed it did. She made her way to the highest point of the gardens and sat on the steps of the monument there looking out on a field of thick grass. 'The last time I saw this,' she thought, 'How young I was, and naive. It was May, and there were naked people lying on the grass bathing in the sun.' This Monday morning, though --instead of semi-nude students-- joggers and strollers were bundled up agains the cold, and puppies with big paws and uneven gaits frolicked with eachother in the open field. It was as incredible as she remembered, she could almost see her own dog jumping through the streams. Thus inspired, she took out her notebook, and began to write.
She had not been there fifteen minutes, writing away, when a woman of about thirty-five in red windbreaker, gloves and headband stopped near her. A smiled pleasantly, and the woman, responding said, "Enschuldigung..." followed by a lot of German in which she gestured to the stone steps upon which A sat. My goodness, thought A, does she mean perhaps that people are in the habit of urinating on these steps, and that I should not sit here? They'd looked perfectly clean when she had sat down. Smiling still, she shook her head at the woman.
"I'm sorry," she said. "English."
"Ah," said the woman, taking a moment to think, and then coming out with perfect English: "I am concerned because you sit on these stones, and they are very cold." She looked expectantly at A, as the implication tried to lodge itself in A's brain -- she was not quite sure she'd understood. Frostbite? Hemmorhoids? or... egads perish the thought. A began to get a bit panicky, what did this woman know about cold stones that she did not? Still maintaining a friendly expression, A said: "Well I haven't been sitting here long."
"Excuse me for saying this," said the woman, nodding and smiling.
"No no, it's okay," said A, thoroughly puzzled.
When the woman had passed out of sight, A waited a few more moments and then got up off the seat. What should she do? Should she run home and perform some remedial bun-warming? Admittedly she was cold, but, yes... yes... she hadn't lost any feeling. She walked home, feeling aware as never before, of every movement of her bottom. Still, all felt as it should. When she got back to the apartment, the hilarity of the situation finally hit her. Never in her entire life had a complete stranger stopped to express their concern about the well being of her bum (well, not a female stranger anyway, and not with sincere concern...). She was sure (she hoped) that it would never again be repeated. Just another once-in-a-lifetime experience she was gaining in her travels...

Cheers.

Sunday, November 14, 2004

Apparently last post too long, so this one v. short

Best weekend in long time, finally had chance to check out Munich night life courtesy of lovely Daniel. Seems v. fun, but also city seems chocked full of English speakers, mostly American, which is fine, but quite disconcerting. Had dinner with rich American business men on Friday and was v. boring, so glad to get out and go dancing after 5 course meal, trying so hard to avoid the two topics of God and Bush, latter b/c were ALL freaking Republicans. Seriously, what's with those people, don't understand, but as some people would say, whatever floats your boat! (and as I would say, whatever sinks it, har har).

Anyway, getting phone call from V tomorrow to finalize plans for Wild Bavarian Christmas! Hurrah!

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Chapter 1: Ukrainian Retrospective

-- In which the heroine narrowly escapes death by fireworks and moves to Germany

Let me first say this: I do not pretend, dear reader, to be writing the great novel of the twenty-first century. Indeed, until this tender century reaches its conclusion, assuming of course that by which time such trifling pieces of literature as novels are still entertained and indulged, such a judgment could not be passed with any degree of credibility whatsoever. Nor can it be said truthfully of any other century in the memory of text that such a singular document has ever existed (especially, considering the relatively young memory of the 'novel' itself -- in the history of script it is rather -- dare I say it? -- novel). Never mind to what I may aspire, I admit I have not the imagination of other more practiced scribes in creating for you a world independent of fact, in which I may entertain ideas of such depth and perception as to revolutionize your life's philosophy. My words, and the events which they illustrate are, if not entirely biographical, at least based in truth: in a twist of head or curve of lip, my -- for I may not yet judge her our-- heroine may secretly present to you my own visage. Nevertheless, these afore mentioned events and personages, with which I identify so closely, and which I fully intend to adroitly disguise in the banals of fiction, I have deemed (in my infinite wisdom and experience -- I take, ahem, the piss) worthy of documentation here.
These ruminations aside, and to bring us soundly back to the case in point however, a novel is what I pretend to write -- such as it is. And what would any novel be, without the willing and happy engagement of the writer? You find yourself as much in my (rather diverting) company as in the (slightly less, but give her time to exert herself) presence of my heroine. The lady in question -- or shall we say 'woman' in question; not to question her propriety, but rather to give her the option of proving herself improper if she so choose -- as I said, the woman in question was, at the time of my rude interruption regarding her morality, in the process of consuming copious amounts of caffeine (her nerves needed calming, she thought) and writing a retrospective of the time she had just passed in the Ukraine, from a little cafe on the one-way street which also held her apartment building in Munich, Germany. She had with her her guide book, a little list of German words, Please, Thank you, Excuse me, which she was trying to remember to say instead of their Ukrainian counterparts which she had been used to for the past 2 months.
Having finished her postcard writing, Antonia (yes, I have just named her this instant, does it not become her exceedingly?) opened her bag and extracted her travel journal and placed it on the table. Taking a brief moment to chuckle at the inscription on the cover -- The Globe Jotter, how clever -- she opened to a fresh page and began to write. And thankfully for you, dear reader, I happened to notice, in my omniscience, what it was that she wrote:

November 9th, 2004

The Ukrainian Retrospective
I was always wary, while writing in the Ukraine, of lending my opinions too much to the negative. My own prejudices might tend to shed my experiences in an unflattering light -- much less flattering, anyway, than they rightly deserved. Upon reflection, and my removal to Munich, I realized in trying to make a 10 good/10 bad list, that the bad landed squarely in two categories, all be it that they were large issues for me:
First, but least, the skanky fashions - whether in self expression, post communist uniformity, as I heard one Belarussian explain, or in trying to attract men from the "American Business Centre" (you may assume, rightly, that by business they do not mean wall-street-creased-slacks-leather-brief-case-triple-espresso business, but rather what's-up-baby-let-me-show-you-a-little-bit-of-America-hurry-up-Johnny-and-finish-your business, I'm not joking, google it), they bothered me. And further more they made me feel old because I'm still 21 and was offended by the skeeze. I hate being made to feel old.
Second, and the overwhelming victor of my unease, the Anti-Western Sentiment. Every time I opened my mouth and spoke English, people would look at me as though Dubya himself had just walked into their midst in Stetson and spurs, with I heart U S A, tattooed across the fingers of his right hand. Bloody Hell. I wonder if they still make those t-shirts that say "USA - the right to bear arms, Canada - the right to bare breasts. Where would you rather live?" and if so, would some one hit up Dino the super fan and send me one?

But aside from these two things, which I admit at times were a bit overwhelming for me, it really is such a fascinating country, if you can really get into it, and get people talking about their experiences. So, I've found that the 10 best list rounded out a little better:
I love the churches - and hey, that's a first for me, a warm feeling for church - but they are incredible. Plus, my dog's going to be fine and between that and a few other things that have happened, despite our differences, I'm beginning to owe the uber-being a few favours; I wonder if they do good Samaritan Christmas boxes in Germany?
Speaking of dogs -- the street dogs! Friendliest canines ever, eventhough you REALLY don't want to touch them, you still really want to take them home and love them forever, diseased or no.
The taxi system -- you stick out your arm on the road, and eventually a car drives up -- it may be a taxi, it may not, who knows? but you get in, say very little, pay 5 bucks, and the driver takes you where you want to go.
Saturday afternoon parade -- why can't they block off big main streets in Canada and create some happy public space on the weekends? Why? because we're too freaking fast, and efficiency always wins out over road blockages, unless you're a pride parade of some denomination. Let me have a relaxed pace of life any day, and stroll down the middle line of the street.
St. Andrew's descent -- not only is the stuff you see really cool, but the vendors are awesome as well. They all speak some degree of English and they all learned it right there, on the descent. One vendor learns a new sentence, and they spread it around to everyone else. What a neat system.


At this point, the world outside distracted our fair intrepid traveller, and her list is forgotten momentarily. Her mental list of new things to see begins to grow and packing her things, she heads out the door in the direction of the city centre. Perhaps she'll even be in time to see the Glockenspiel dance. And now, because I need practice for the grande finale, more material for our continued interactions, I will conclude, get out of this dreary apartment, away from this addictive machine, and start a new chapter.

Monday, November 08, 2004


the little spec of building at the top is where we're headed, half way there Posted by Hello


view from the top Posted by Hello


the reward after the climb.... merilien schnapps and the best food ever Posted by Hello

Now we get the up to date pictures... just days after

So here's what we did on Saturday... I was actually here before, 8 years ago. Hasn't changed much, except wasn't nearly so cloudy. Eh, they look more majestic and mysterious in the mist anyway. Quite a climb... especially if you stray from the path and pick the vertical option with the mountain sheep poo.

Sunday, November 07, 2004

Yes! no more fotki!

Well kids, as you can see, I can finally upload the pictures right here, no waiting, no annoying photo albums! These are my adventures in Odessa -- got some great footage on the steps, ironically, of people carrying baby carriages up and down. Thought it was pretty funny. Our last week in Kyiv was without mishap, despite the dire predictions for the Ukrainian elections, and we got to Munich only a little late because of a fire alarm in Heathrow, 20 minutes before the flight was supposed to leave.
I've spent the whole week outside of the city in the hills, yesterday in the Alps, and evenings at incredible restaurants and wine bars... and have been given entirely too much schnapps. I don't like schnapps "Oh come on Lexie give it a go..." blech. Incredibly however, the excessive drinking has cleared my sore throat right up!
What an amazing place to spend christmas. I have pictures of the mountains from yesterday, which will follow tonight once I get the internet up and running in my apartment. Hurrah! access for 2 whole months, what a luxury, no more cafes!
The whole family's spirits are thriving from the move. It's really been like coming home. I'm determined to live in this city sometime in my life for more than a couple months at a go. Splendid.

Cheers.
A


from the harbour Posted by Hello


steps Posted by Hello


the train ride of no sleep ever... who can sleep on a train? Posted by Hello