Donnerstag, September 23, 2004

Italian Food and Nazi Reviews

An Italian student just moved into the apartment next door. Normally, I could accept this without comment, but this is an exceptional circumstance.

It's not a nationality thing, I swear. However, I've taken a little pride in being the most intense cook in the kitchen for the last few weeks. Not the most successful, mind you; maintaining focus is altogether different from producing quality. Instead, I've been the most dedicated. Regularly, I engage in questionable cooking endeavors simply because I'm intrigued by the process. I spend entire evenings slaving over a hot stove to produce strange dishes that no one will consume. I'm collecting recipes, experimenting, and gnoshing, all because I can.

But now there's this Italian neighbor of mine, who effortlessly trumps me at the stove. (It's one thing to recieve a Silver Medal, but it's another thing to come in second place by such a wide margin.) The way she controls three simmering pots, while putting away groceries and carrying on multi-lingual conversations, totally blows me out of the water. Like all Italians (horribly stereotypical statement ahead!), she must have been born with a spatula clenched in her hand. Clearly, I'm still cooking in the Pony Leagues.



"Der Untergang" is a snuff flick forty-years overdue. All the suspense would seem to be whisked away, given that at the beginning of the film you see Adolf Hitler as a defeated, cornered Führer, desperately seeking refuge in his underground bunker. It's no secret that he's going to die; even he knows it.

That is not to say that "Der Untergang" lacks any credibility or forces unnecessary twists in an otherwise see-through plot. (After all, even if there are only seven different movie plots, this one has to better documented than most others[1].) Partially due to this plot issue(2), the German media has focused closely on the Bruno Ganz's characterization of Hitler as a tirade-prone, passionate (in the bad sense), and stooped leader who at times seems wholly removed from reality. It certainly represents a departure from the belligerent, stubborn Hitler of American cinema who stands tall in the face of his enemies(3). Ganz's Hitler has been completely demolished by three years of military setbacks. What is left to him is the timeless, nightmare-like last days he spends underground, surrounded by his generals.

Give credit to the screenwriters, then, for making the gruesome sidenotes of this event into relevant and suspenseful plot points. (Catastrophe, often inflicted by the husband, visited several families of high officials shortly before the Russians captured the last sectors of Berlin.)

Instead of a disjunction with the screen, however, the audience is pulled right into the (admittedly slow-paced) action. We travel through the winding corridors of the bunker, with long trailing shots following actors through doors. The even flourescent lighting casts no shadows, and the varying lights of night and day are surprising, almost shocking, when the actors venture out.

Moreover, there is very little fighting. The facts of war, as if taking a cue from Ganz's early outbursts, spend the majority of the movie brooding far away from the central actors. Instead, the end stages of the war play out exactly as Hitler himself would have seen them: battle lines on maps, each line contracting, the maps becoming progressively smaller in scale, choking the last hopes of a doomed leader.



(1) See anything ever written by Stephen Ambrose. And if you want something more interesting than a Greatest Generation rehash of America's heroic defeat of (all forms of?) facism (everywhere?), skip Ambrose and read Bis zur letzten Stunden, by Traudl Junge and Melissa Müller, instead.
(2) But mostly because Germans are prickly when it comes to the post-Weimar period. Making a talking piece of the actor instead of the role turns the whole problem inside out. Suddenly, the story is about a modern person engaged in an art form, rather than a ruthless, xenophobic facist that everyone would rather forget.
(3)Or the alternative: the unportrayed Hitler. A rhetorical Villain, this Hitler is the butt of the GI's curses, a distant finishing line for a war that seems to stretch forward into an indefinite future. This is the Hitler who is on the end of every boastful GI's rifle. ("If I could get one shot at him, this whole war would be over."[1])

Montag, September 20, 2004

Are you registered?

Time's running out. Get registered today. Then go and vote. (Because that's the really important part!)

Jotted Notes

It's hard to live without some things these days.

Most of us would be lost without electricity ("You mean I can't watch The Simpsons?"). Pretty much everybody I know would be pretty upset without some sort of home to go to. For me, it has been difficult to live without a phone.

Strike that. For me, it has been difficult to live without a phone. It's been difficult for people to get in contact with me without one. And that was put in sharp focus today by this email from some friends of mine:

--Email--
Subject: WE HATE YOU!
We waited outside your building all day and could not find you. We wanted you to hang out with us but you are no longer wanted. Just Kidding! Check your mailbox b/c we left you a note. We will meet you in front of the Star Back at 12:00 tomorrow. If you don't come don't bother ever talking to us again.
--Email--

I have to say, this email shook me to the core. I will never again be so callous as to ignore those that seek me by sitting outside a building all day! Never again will I ignore the restless pleas of those seeking grog! And I won't be late tomorrow!

I think they are hooking up my phone on Friday (but, then again, she could have been saying something about a "cheese-party with stuffed mussels and white wine;"(1) my head has been elsewhere today...).

A note for later: E. and I saw "Der Untergang" today, which is causing big waves in the German press right now (not least because the Rechts Radikal NPD won a big victory in state elections in Brandenburg and Sachsen). I'll post a full piece on it when I decide what I think about it.



(1) Which begs the question, who serves stuffed mussels at a cheese-party? I'm going to have to consult the recipe book on this one.(2)
(2) Apropos cooking, we all need to sponsor this fledgling idea for a TV show (scroll down to the bottom).

Freitag, September 17, 2004

Alles ist fertig

I've now done all the important stuff on my checklist:


My Checklist
  1. Go to Germany
  2. Figure out customs, language
    1. Find food
    2. Find beer
    3. Find more food & beer
  3. Enter financial marketplace
  4. Verify insurance
  5. Find living accommodations
  6. Get visa
  7. Chill
    1. Party
    2. Relax
    3. Hang out
    4. Zapp
    5. etc.

I picked up my residence permit this morning, which validates my privilege to live here in Bamberg during the next 12 months, if and only if I remain enrolled at the Otto-Friedrick-Universität Bamberg. Those restrictions seems fair to me, considering I only had to pay 40€ for this privilege. (After all, I didn't come here to practice my cooking skills upstairs. . . .)

Now, I need to start thinking of this place as "home," if only for a few months. I am an invited dinner guest at the Big German Culture Table. That means that the people around me come from cultures different from mine, but we are integrated into the same culture now, if only partially. That's an insane concept, but the tafelwine is good, so I'll keep my mouth shut.

Mittwoch, September 15, 2004

The following music has made an impression on me in the last few days.

1) "Amerika", Amerika Rammstein (lyrics)
The lyrics pretty much say it all. This is a profoundly angry song by a group known in Germany for being controversial. (In the same sitting last night, someone showed me the music videos for both Amerika and another song the group wrote in response to the German Cannibal.) The music video features, among other things, a Sikh smoking Lucky Strikes, an Indian child eating a Burger King hamburger, Iranian protesters, and a group of East Africans in traditional garb eating a pizza in front of a TV. The harshest line is probably the last chorus:

We're all living in Amerika,
Amerika ist wunderbar,(1)
We're all living in Amerika,
Coca-cola, and sometimes War.

This is definitely a song that will remain outside the Empire's cultural mainstream. That's disappointing, since it would be such a great campaign ad for Kerry.

2) "Radio", Greatest Hits Robbie Williams (lyrics) (stream: Windows Media/Real)
This song debuted the morning I landed, but the interesting thing about it isn't that it's new. Rather, this song was a total departure from the Robbie Williams I was familiar with.

That Williams was the one who recorded Swing When You're Winning, a big-band, ballad, and swing album released in 2001. Among the songs which originally brought him to my attention were "Have You Met Miss Jones?"(2) and "Beyond The Sea"(3), both heavily orchestrated, over the top, brassy songs. So, imagine my surprise to find this "jazz" singer breaking out the funky beats in an edgy, paranoid pop song.

The story was filled in for my by a friend who explained that Williams was originally a member of a pre N'Sync boy band. After that band, Williams started a solo career that could only be encompassed with the word "eclectic." After a pop album or two (including Sing When You're Winning), he broke out with Swing. And now, he's back with some dark pop music, which cries out for remixing. That should teach us all a valuable lesson about stereotyping.

Don't look for Williams on the Empire's pop radio stations -- I'm betting this song is too much for pop radio there; wait until the remixes hit the club floors in a few weeks.

3) Mensch, Herbert Grönemeyer
I don't understand much of what he's saying, but I like the way he says it. Check out "Viertel Vor" and "Unbewoht."

4) Neuvo, Kronos Quartet
The Kronos Quartet has worked closely with some of the most inventive and interesting modern composers. In Neuvo, the Quartet has assembled a sampler of the top Mexican composers, from Revueltas to Briseño. The rythms are alternately haunting and jaunty. If the first half the album laments the suffering of the peasent's life, then the other half a celebration of the overwhelming power of joyful music. This is album should serve as an introduction to emotive composition for any music student. Check out "El Llorar," "Perfidia," "Sensemaya" (unfortunately, not the entire Night of the Maya suite), and "12/12."

5) Garden State Soundtrack, Various Artists
Combine Coldplay, Thievery Corporation, and Frou Frou and I wouldn't listen. Put Zero 7, the Shins, Nick Drake, and Iron & Wine (who?) on the same album, and it's fascinating.

The movie reminded me of Harold & Maude, which also had a simple plot, but elegant in both dialogue and image. This album borrows from that film's calm instrumentation (Nick Drake Cat Stevens did the entire soundtrack for Harold & Maude) with Simon & Garfunkle's "The Only Living Boy in New York," Iron & Wine's "Such Great Heights," and "New Slang" from The Shins.

It's a remarkable thing to find a Thievery Corporation song that would complement such a placid acoustic lineup. In fact, "Lebanese Blonde" wouldn't have been my first choice. But serve up the industrial duo between Colin Hay's "I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You" and Zero 7's "In the Waiting Line," and I'm tapping my toe non-stop.




(1) Trans: "America is wonderful"
(2) If you can't find this song, get your hands on the soundtrack for the film Bridgette Jones' Diary.
(3) If you can't find this song, go rent Finding Nemo. There's no excuse for missing this film anyway. The song plays over the closing credits, which would be fun, even without the music.

Ed: 20. Feb., 2005 -- Cat Stevens, rather than Nick Drake. Doh! I knew that....

Sonntag, September 12, 2004

Baby, it's cold outside!

Today, the temperature dropped about ten degrees from where it was yesterday. This means that I spent most of the day tucked safely indoors. (A drop of ten degrees Fahrenheit ain't nothing; we're talking Celsius, baby!)

Anyway, I think this means that my summer has officially come to an end. If we check with the timekeeper, we can see that this is the longest summer on record: 7 May to 11 Sept. According to my rudimentary finger-math, thats a total of 128 days. Now that's something to celebrate!

Speaking of celebrations, there's a new housemate here in town from Boston. She's got a Fulbright to teach at a Gymnasium (reads: High School) just up the hill. Even more interesting, she was in a Fulbright seminar series last week, where she was partnered with a friend of mine from high school, who has a Fulbright to teach English in Thüringen (16), the Bundesland to the north of Bayern (Bavaria, 2). If anybody has a calculator handy, maybe you could work out what the probability of that is.

In any case, the world seems to be a small place.

And just like all small places in the universe, this place got freaking cold! I was shivering over my cappucino this afternoon, while the Guy Sitting Next To Me explained the difference between the American and German music notation structures. (Apparently, Germans use an H instead of a B, except when they call it a B, too . . . go figure.) Even those patches of sunshine one can usually find along the river were completely overwhelmed by the wind that ripped down the Regnitz at random and aggressive intervals. It's time to get a coat.

Freitag, September 10, 2004

Milestones (Meilsteinen)

Although there are some of you out there reading this, the real purpose is to provide some sort of record for myself of my progress here.

Update #1: München+7
I was able to hold up one end of a dinner conversation. Not a terrific achievement to the objective viewer, but definitely One Small Step for Williamkind. Even more of a proud moment because of my recent frustrations with comprehension. W00t!

Donnerstag, September 09, 2004

Back up and running

Although I've had internet access since the day I moved in, iChat just wasn't working. I finally figured out why when I tried to access my private email server and I started getting packet bounces. I guess Kabel Duetschland (my breitband internet provider) limits certain outgoing ports (apparently anything other than 80, 110, and 443 or whatever IMAP4 uses). AIM uses some screwy port up in the early 5000's (5190, for those of you playing along at home).

Luckily for me, somebody set up a listener for the AIM protocol on port 80. Now I'm back online, ready to iChat.

If you don't see me online, but you think you should, email me your name and SN.

*sigh*

This is going to ruin my German....

Montag, September 06, 2004

Obsession

Obsessing is something of a pastime for my family. We have always been great obsessors. "To each own" for birds, bees, flora, and My Relatives. My dear grandmother has long been noted for being totally consumed by thoughts, concerns, and even anxieties over the gathering, preparation, and/or consumption of meals. Other family members have at times developed fixations on one or more of the following items:

a) pets and/or pet care,
b) possible paint colors for various rooms,
c) National Public Radio,
d) computers and/or electronics,
e) the bathroom habits of relatives,
f) the bathroom habits of pets/wildlife,
g) general hygiene (human/animal),
h) rodents/any member of Lagomorphae,
i) the existing roof/floor/wall(s) and/or window(s) of any given room,
j) tacos,
k) etc.

With this understanding of my (circle one of the following, given current public bias) genetic makeup/early childhood environment, it should surprise no one that I occasionally fixate. I certainly can pick out my share of foibles from the list above; however, I rarely find my individual obsessions so ridiculous as the one I resolved today. Allow me to add it to the list:

l) bedding (Bettwäsche, for those of you playing at home).

As ridiculous as it is, it was a remarkably easy fixation to quell. I just happened to pop over to the Local Wal-Mart* this morning, and as I was browsing down the aisle between Big Glass and Stone Things and Fast-Moving Metal Objects, I happened to notice a store that sold bedding. It seemed remarkable, for I had been pricing personal items not two days earlier, in preparation for settling into some sort of material routine. "Remarkable," says I, "and, furthermore," thought I, "I should return to this place, perhaps to engage in some bed-related purchasing activities."

So, when I was bounced out of Deutsche Bank for not having an appointment (doh! -- and the lack of a phone number did not impress the teller, either), I returned to the shop to stand helplessly by while the shopkeepers buzzed about helping customers who seemed very clear about what they needed. I, on the other hand, have never dressed a German bed before, and I was not clear about the proper linens and such. I could only stare at the Bettwäsche for several minutes, pondering whether I needed a set of Kissentuche and Komforttuche? Did I also need a Spanbetttuch? Which Kisse goes with this set? And how big is my bed?

As I found out, giving a precise answer to the last question could be avoided by informing the clerk that "I am a student" and that, furthermore, "I live in a student Livinghouse." (For best results, imitate these phrases with a robot-like monotony in tone.)

However belligerently ignorant I appeared, the clerk was very helpful and gracious, taking my crudely assembled sentence-fragments and organizing them into a color-coordinated, summer-winter combination of items that were both comfortable and benignly priced. The best way to permanently cure an obsession is to throw too much money at it. Usually this results in a strong case of buyer's remorse, and a predisposition to avoid all purchases in a similar vein in the future. In this case, I got away with a minimal investment in both time (20 minutes of my day) and money (a mere E 88.90 88,90€ -- an absolute bargain, according to my unscientific comparison shopping).

-------------------------------------------------------
*The Local Wal-Mart is, in fact, Langestraße -- the local shopping street, replete with small retail establishments, cafés, and a pub or two (or five).

Sonntag, September 05, 2004

A First Full Day

Jet lag does scary things to your brain, and the West-East time adjustment just makes those things even scarier. For instance, I fell asleep this afternoon while reading a rather good New Yorker article about pasta preparation, only to be awakened by a fifteen-minute symphony of clanging church bells (possibly a John Cage piece). Length aside, it was actually quite pleasent to hearing the pealing ruckus float in on the warm afternoon sun.

(This bell-ringing event has been independently verified. It was not a figment of the author's imagination. -- Ed.)

Frightening mid-afternoon jam sessions aside, this town is absolutely wonderful. After spending the better part of two days exploring, I have discovered a number of charming and diverting places, such as:

1) Die Greifenklau Braüerei -- a local brewery, complete with its own Biergarten with a view of the Altenburg, 15 minutes up Kaulbergstraße by foot; had a nice Dünkelbier there, although I don't think it was the (in)famous Rauchbier.

2) Der Regnitz-weg -- a walking/biking path that begins almost at my front door and runs for about 2km to the southern tip of Inselgebiet (my neighborhood); I followed it as far south as the B22 overpass, but the overwhelming noise of the trucks turned me back.

3) Der Grüner Markt -- the daily fresh market; nothing beats getting up early and watching the market being set up while sipping a warm coffee in the brisk morning air.

4) Austraße -- the funky local hangout, set back from the main square and thus not so clogged with tourists; this street is home to a collection of interesting cafés and wine bars, and my strategy is to hit them all in whatever order I can manage (current favorite: Café Müller -- rank 1 of 1).

5) Funky bridges everywhere -- Bamberg's heart is on an island in the Regnitz river, and bridges are the main arteries to everything; bonus Funky points to the Altesrathaus, which was built in the river and straddles two bridges. (Only one bridge is visible in the picture. The second is located at the opposite end of the building. -- Ed.)

Certainly, the beauty of the Regnitz-weg is compounded by the friendly families out for a Saturday stroll. Between the distressed woman whose pet ferret insisted upon rolling on the ground and the three minute conversation about a fish, my language skills were somewhat taxed.

She: "Do you see that fish? Do you know if it is called a Hecht?"
I: "Yes, I can see that fish. I'm do not know..."
She: "Yes, I'm certain it's a Hecht. It snaps up smaller fish."
I: "I am not familiar with that fish. I do not know its name."
She: "It is a Hecht."
I: "No, I don't know its name."
She: *Gives me a patient look*

Equally bizarre were Mallard ducks who defied my limited expectations of them by diving underwater. In many years of watching ducks of all sorts, I've never seen a Mallard dive; in fact, I always thought they seemed somewhat disgruntled by other diving birds nearby. Not only did they dive, but they showed impressive cardiovascular fortitued with stints of up to 20 seconds underwater.

Nevertheless, Bamberg seems to be a place I can enjoy and where I can feel at home. After a summer spent indoors, attached at the hip to the zombie-waking glow of CRT monitors, studded soda IV drips, and surrounded by platters of reheated Pizza Rolls, the leisure of talking a two hour walk around the town after lunch is welcome exercise. Having afternoon coffee in a buzzing café is refreshing in a way that Mountain Dew can never match. Buying your own fruits, vegetables, cheese, and other groceries in an open-air market (with live two-part string accompaniment) is wholesome for everyone's internal gourmand.

Samstag, September 04, 2004

Format Update

I changed the blog template to reflect the fact that I hated the old one. At least the templates have gotten much better since the last time around. That means that I didn't have to spend six hours tweaking this one. You might notice that the publications and other stats have been replaced/deleted. They were boring.

And for the record, I still hate HTML...