Resolution Round-Up

Way back on 2 January 2008, I penned my manifesto for the year.

It is now time to have a look and see how I did.

Item 1: The Body

• Enough with the smoking already - it will kill you. Stop it.
  Result: WIN - although not without some hiccups and obsessive washing-up.
  
  
• Exercise and fun are not mutually exclusive. Get on your bike, back in the pool, join a team. Anything. Make sure it is fun.
  Result: WIN. Longer rides in the summer, and a year of biking around town.
  
  
• Moderation is not a dirty word.
  Result: FAIL. Bugger.

Item 2: The Mind

• For your own sanity, try harder to learn to speak German. Sign up for more classes.
  Result: WIN. Apparently language acquisition is very good blogging fodder.
  
  
• Write every day.
  Result: FAIL. For proof, check out the online castigation I cop from my blogging friend, jb, over at Mainz Daily Photo (in the side bar under the heading "introducing").
  
  
• Take photos every day.
  Result: Technically a FAIL, as I didn't take photos everyday, but I give myself an 'honourable mention' for my babysitting of Mainz Daily Photo while jb was away.
  
  
• Read something every day.
  Result: Technically a WIN, as I didn't go around with my eyes closed, but I'm ashamed to say, I still haven't finished this book.
  
  
• Get a job. The life of a Hausfrau can be somewhat tedious.
  Result: FAIL. I promise to try harder next year...

Item 3: The Soul

• Travel, travel, travel - you live in the middle of Europe, you can go to France to buy cheese if you want - do it.
  Result: WIN. Surprisingly, my travels didn't really get a guernsey on the blogging front, but I can assure you there were trips to Paris, Berlin, a brief Belgium drive-through just for the hell of it, Strasbourg and of course the world's loveliest honeymoon in Scotland.
  
  
• Try 3 new things this year.
  Result: Technically a WIN, but really a FAIL. You can't really count; not smoking, speaking better German and learning to love bike riding as three new things, can you?
  
  
• Make a new friend.
  Result: WIN. Internet, you'll be pleased to know that I still meet up with my language school friends nearly every week. Also, mr & mrs jb are ace and I'm looking forward to having dinner with them tomorrow.
  
  
• Write more letters to Dad.
  Result: FAIL. I have thought about this issue and have decided that it is the whole writing with a pen and paper that just is not doing it for me. I'm much more likely to type a letter than to write it. Does this make me a heathen?
  
  
• De-lurk.
  Result: WIN. You know what, Internet - you're really nice.
  

Given a gaussian distribution, I'd give me a passing grade.

Stay tuned for the 2009 edition.

Christmas Ham-ster

On Christmas Day as we were heading out the door to visit some friends, I noticed that the neightbours had constructed a makeshift enclosure, complete with a little wooden hut - the perfect size for a hamster.

My internal monologue went something like...

"The kids next door must have got a hamster for Christmas, how cute."

Closely followed by...

"It's a bit weird that there is no top on that enclosure - free range hamsters, how cute."

Closely followed by...

"Oh My God, the cats are outside."

Closely followed by...

"We really need to get some of that 'just in case your cats eat the neighbour's kids' Christmas hamster' insurance that everyone in Germany recommends you have."

Certifiable

I wish I could blame my protracted absence from this blog on madly studying for today's big test - Zertifikat Deutsch.

Unfortunately, I can't, because I didn't.

I wish I could wax lyrical about the Grammatik and how effortlessly I penned that reply to my 'friend' - full of coherent advice about what she should do with her lazy, football watching brother.

Unfortunately, I can't, because I didn't.

I wish I could regale you, beloved Internet, with hilarious stories about how I deftly steered the stilted set of 3 conversation exercises with my fellow Prüflinger in the speaking exam, giving each of us the opportunity to display our verbal wares.

Unfortunately I can't, because I didn't.

Did I pass? Probably.

By much? No.

You live and learn, Internet - you live and learn.

In da hood

I have developed a bad habit of listening in on people's conversations on public transport. While eavesdropping is not considered a polite hobby, I justify it to myself by thinking that it is good 'hörverstehen' practice.

Normally, I don't understand a lot of what is said, but yesterday I had the pleasure of listening to two 14 year old boys whose mother tongue is 'Merkin.

It was all 'dawg', 'motherf@#$er', 'bitches' and contained very little agreement between subject and verb with respect to number or tense.

I managed to keep a straight face for most of the journey, but after a particularly colourful passage of conversation, I couldn't hold in my laughter anymore.

They got off at the next stop.

Which was a shame, really - the conversation was just getting interesting.

Ousted

It appears that I have been ousted from power after 9 long years in government in New Zealand. I, of course, accept responsibility for this defeat and will be stepping down as leader of the New Zealand Labour Party.

In related news, an Australian woman currently living in Germany gets her name back. Hooray.

The movement of fresh air is deadly

So say the majority of my language class. They are convinced that my recent bout of the common cold was brought about by not dressing warmly enough and all that poisonous fresh air to which I am exposed whilst riding my bike.

I missed a couple of days of school last week due to feeling utterly awful. When I returned to class, there was a firm consensus and a fair bit of tut-tutting about my general disregard for just how deadly moving air can be. I was half expecting someone to suggest a course of leaches to rid my body of its ill humour.

I have my own theory on how I fell victim to this pernicious illness. Shall I tell you? I got sick because for the last couple of weeks I sat in a stuffy classroom surrounded by a couple of people who thought it was appropriate to come to class when they were sick. One in particular, I’ll just call him Typhoid Mary, sneezed, sniffed and coughed his way through the past two weeks of lessons.

Jobs that my subsconscious mind thinks I should not try

I've really got to hand it to my subconscious mind - it really is trying to shelter me from the heartache and disappointment of taking a wrong turn on the career highway.

Last night, it ever so helpfully expounded to me, while I slept, why I would make a really terrible steam-driven-tram driver. Not only are all the valves, levers and dials so difficult to coordinate and keep track of, there is the furnace to keep an eye on as well - and that old kc543 model is particularly curmudgeonly.

And really, don't get me started on just how rude the passengers were. All because I couldn't work the ticket machine and give them the correct change - isn't that what a conductor should be doing anyway?

So, thanks subconscious mind, I will definitely be crossing that particular profession off the list of possibilities. I owe you one.

The Night of the Open Churches

If there is one thing that Mainz has plenty of, it's churches.

Friday evening was the second "night of the open churches", and being a bit of a sticky beak and a non church-goer, I thought it would be a rare chance to visit some of the many churches in town.

As good fortune would have it, I was able to catch up with mr and mrs jb and we wandered around admiring the architecture, soaking up the culture, enjoying the music and art, and generally having a great time.

My favourite was the completely over the top, crazy baroque-a-rama of St Peters.

Also, the 'one-night-only' wine bar in the St Ignaz garden was great. It is a shame that the garden isn't open more often (especially as a wine bar), because it is such a beautiful place, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the Altstadt.

Stoned

No, not in the University Cigarette way, either.

begin note to self:

A stone -

in the old measure

in neigh on 3 months

must be a new world record.

Bloody hell.

Get back in the pool.

Put down the cheese and back away slowly.

Also, stop being such a lush.

note to self ends.

Tour Der Deutschland

I happened to be in town today when the field whizzed through. There was an endless parade of motorbikes, then a quick flash of lycra and muscle, then an endless parade of support vehicles. Each support vehicle carried about 8 bikes, which I'm pretty sure would cost more than the car carrying them. It is a whacky world.

I checked out who won today's stage:

André Greipel narrowly pipped our Robbie McEwan in a pack sprint at the finish. Poor Robbie, first a less than spectacular Olympics, and now this. Chin up though, there is always tomorrow.

Of course, I didn't have a camera with me today, so no pictures of men in lycra - awfully sorry 'bout that.

Conference Crashing - a guide

Scientific conferences may, on the whole, be fairly boring, but one must be aware that from 4pm to 6pm most conferences provide delegates with free booze and food as an incentive to stick around and look at the posters after a gruelling day of sitting still and listening to boring talks. This is the prime crashing time.

It is helpful to have the inside running on what conferences are happening in your vicinity. In order to keep on top of this, I recommend you marry an academic.

On Thursday afternoon we travelled to Frankfurt to 'attend' the 9th Kimberlite Conference. As rocks go, Kimberlites are fairly rare, obscure even, but since they host most of the world's diamonds, a conference discussing the latest research is bound to attract impressive sponsorship dollars.

Sponsorship dollars = lots of beer.

Hooray.

Step 1 - ensure you blend in, again your academic husband (TM) will prove very useful at this point - if you can encourage him to grow a beard, all the better.

Step 2 - head straight for the bar, this will ensure that you look like a conference delegate.

Step 3 - browse the posters. You will only be able to stand this for 20 minutes before crimes against good graphic design become too much for you to handle. Whoever thought that an A0 poster with a thesis printed on it in 10 point font was an effective means of communication has a lot to answer for.

Step 4 - find some friends. Ideally these will be actual people that you know and like, but this is not essential. Your academic husband (TM) will be able to chat to anyone on any number of not particularly interesting subjects.

Step 5 - once the bar is closed and you have been physically removed from the venue, gather together a posse and head out for dinner.

Congratulations, you are now officially a conference interloper.

Your next mission, should you choose to accept it is the 'conference dinner' - a higher degree of difficulty, but with a higher payoff - dinner and drinks! Be warned this is a high risk strategy. You may get stuck at a table with some of the most boring people imaginable.

As you can see from this post, my 'inner student' is strong and is often unsupervised.

Sunday rides - Budenheim

View Larger Map

Distance - 22 km
Stops for lunch - 1
Number of hills - 1
Number of Pils - 1
Once again calories burnt < calories consumed
Schnitzel size - larger than my head

Personal Shopper

Today I tried my hand at being a personal shopper. My language school buddy, Wagner, is attending a wedding this month and needed to buy something to wear. We discussed at length what he wanted - some black (or similarly dark) pants, a belt, a shirt, some shoes and a pair of socks. Also high on the list of desirable attributes was inexpensive. Cool. I love a good bargain shopping expedition.

So off we traipsed to C&A.

Here is where we hit our first hurdle - I can't for the life my me work out how the folk here size their gents trousers, and neither can Wagner. He has an excuse in that he is blind and can't see the swing tags, but I have no such excuse. After a few random size trying ons, we stumbled across a pair of trousers that fit and then I went a bit Carson Kreesley with the shirt and accessories. 

All in all, a fun afternoon.

Unhinged

I am a bit wiped out today due to spending most of last night weeping about a missing cat. The cat, of course, made her grand entrance at very early o'clock this morning and yea verily there was much rejoicing.

In my unhinged state I was convinced any number of horrible fates had befallen my beloved Poppy - she had been catnapped, she had been catnapped and eaten (I told you I was unhinged), she had been run over and killed, she had been run over and left to die a horrible lingering death, she had managed to get herself trapped somewhere... the list went on and on.

I had forgotten just how exhausting a quality weep can be. I feel like I've run a marathon.

Anyway, truth  be told - today I just feel like a bit of a goose.

Full up to pussy's bow*

We are on a bit of a savings kick in the vain hope that we will be able to afford our upcoming and very belated honeymoon in Scotland. This means a tightening of monetary policy here at H&R Inc. The convenient, but pricey, Tengelmanns is currently off the list of approved purveyors of goods and the not so convenient, but much cheaper, Aldi has become a preferred supplier.

We are taking this mild inconvenience in our stride, but the cats have obviously grown accustomed to a life of luxury, and turn their spoilt little noses up at anything less than Sheba’s Deluxe Foie Gras with Beluga Caviar in a lightly spiced Gold Leaf sauce™. This means that even Copernicus has been rejecting what he is fed.

Usually, I am a big fat pushover and can’t bear to think of my little darlings starving and cave after one day. I am quite convinced that the cats know this too. You are not alone in your incredulity that a seemingly rational, intelligent woman with a university education can so easily be out manoeuvred by two cats, both of who have been known to prefer drinking out of the toilet.

Not this time.

Maybe it is my inner selfish bitch reasserting herself now that I’ve given up smoking (I really think I’ve become a nastier person since I quit), but this is the only honeymoon I’m ever going to have, so if the cats have to slum it with the rest of us for a little while, then they can bloody well eat what they are bloody well given (OMG - I just channelled my mother, except for the ‘bloody’ – she would have said ‘blasted’).

So the theory is good – when the cats are hungry enough, they will eat. The practicality is somewhat different. I forgot to take into account the veritable all-you-can-eat buffet of Shrews living somewhere nearby and the fact that the cats are pretty decent hunters means that our ‘food bowl stalemate’ will continue for some time. I’ve told them not to snack between meals, but they never listen – Naughty Little Fuckers (sorry Dad, but they are).

*An Australian expression to indicate that one has had more than enough (usually to eat) or of a situation eg. I've had it up to here (the neck) with you.

International Love Story

At some point during today's lesson wedged in between Adjektiven Deklination and Konjunktiv II our teacher asked each of us to tell the stories of how we meet our significant others.

We had it all - high school sweethearts, arranged marriages, love over the internet, star-crossed lovers (thankfully without the deaths) and a surprising (to me) number of cousins who had married - I thought that was the purview of royal families.

Our class is very formal and for many of us German is our only shared language, so getting to know each other is not so easy. These little glimpses into the lives of the people with whom I spend 20 hours per week was a delightful treat.

Flowers and Faces

What better way to spend a Friday afternoon than a leisurely wander along the Rhine, admiring the beautiful flowers and works of art at the Landesgartenshau in Bingen with mr and mrs jb.



jb has blogged about the new and improved Bingen river front over at Mainz Daily Photo.

The last time I visited Bingen it was for the start of the bike ride I took with my sister. I can assure you, the new Bingen river front is a big improvement on the old.


I am now thoroughly inspired to create a little garden on my 2m x 5m terrace.

We topped off the evening with a fabulous dinner at Weingut Kruger-Rumpf. mr and mrs jb sure know all the good places to go.

(edited because one of the pictures was causing problems. I'm hoping that deleting it will fix the issue)

Sunday ride - Nackenheim

View Larger Map

total distance - 30.2km
stops for icecream - 1
stops for beer - 1
calories expended < calories ingested (bummer)
detours - 1
total time - 2 hours
route: bretzenheim - bodenheim - nackenheim - mainz - bretzenheim

Life with Cats

Just like this, but squared.

For the rest of the series visit Simon's Cat

Sunday ride - my god two weeks in a row

View Larger Map


Number of hills - 3
Instances of walking bike uphill - 0
Planned distance - 28 km
Actual distance ridden - 32 km (a number of wrong turns)
Stops for refreshments - 1
Total time taken - 2 hours
Total time staring at map - 15 minutes
Acknowledgment of our existence from other travellers - 4 (a new record)

Aus seinem Herzen keine Mördergrube machen*

Ich habe schließlich erlebt der berüchtigten deutschen Neigung zu brutalen Ehrlichkeit.

Letzte Woche, während einer improvisierte Besuche von meiner Nachbarin, war ich informiert, dass ich einiges Gewicht gewonnen hatte, da ich mit dem Rauchen und dass vielleicht sollte ich nicht so viel essen.

Ich habe ihr drei wörter, "hart aber fair".

What I meant to say was.....

Don't make a murder's hiding place out of your heart*

I have finally been on the receiving end of the infamous German propensity for brutal honesty.

Last week, during one of my neighbour's frequent impromptu visits, I was informed that I had gained some weight since I stopped smoking and that perhaps I shouldn't eat so much.

I have three words for her, "harsh but fair".

* A German saying that means to speak frankly.

Es tut mir Leid

Es tut mir leid. Gestern hatte ich keine Zeit zum bloggen. Ich verspreche, dass etwas mehr schreiben heute, wenn ich zu Hause von der Schule.

What I meant to say...

I'm sorry. Yesterday I didn't have time to blog. I promise to write something more today when I get home from school.

Manchmal liegen die Dinge lustiger auf Deutsch

Beichten von einer Ausländerin

Wann bin ich zuerst nach Deutschland gekommen, habe ich so viele lustigen Fehlern gemacht.

Zum beispiel, in meine erste Woche in Deutschland, habe ich degacht:

"Wer war "Herr Einbahn", und was hat er gemacht, dass er so viele strassen nach ihm zu benennen war?"

What I meant to say...

Confessions of a foreigner
When I first came to Germany, I made so many funny blunders.

For example, in my first week in Germany I thought:

"Who was "Herr Einbahn" and what has he done in order for so many streets to be named after him?"

PS. Einbahn = one way

PPS: I still make plenty of funny blunders.

Meine Neue Sprachschule

Letzte Woche habe ich eine neue Deutschkurs angefangen. Bis hierher klappt es gut. Die Lehrerin ist toll und erklärt alles sehr schlicht.

Die Leute von meiner Klasse kommen aus viele Länder: Irak, Morokko, Romanien, Polen, Afganistan, Pakistan und Schottland. Ein paar sind ein bisschen lästig, weil sie immer zusammen sprechen sind. Aber, meistens sind freundlich.

What I meant to say....
Last week I started a new German course. So far it is going well. The teacher is great and explains everything very simply.

The people in my class come from many countries: Iraq, Morocco, Romania, Poland, Afganistan, Pakistan and Scotland. A few are a bit annoying because they talk all the time. Most are friendly though.

Corrections gratefully received!

Sprache Woche 2008

All this week for your reading pleasure I will be posting auf Deutsch in honour of Language Week 2008.

Enjoy the ensuing hilarity and poor grammar.

Sunday ride

View Larger Map

Hills - 2
Getting off bike and pushing it up hill - 0
Mechanical failures - 1
Stops for coffee - 1
People we overtook - 8
Overtaken by others - 25 (they were in full racing strip and participating in a race, so we don't feel too bad)
Time for round trip, including coffee break - 1.5 hrs
Total distance - 20.8km

I'm gunna build me an Ark

My word, it is floody today.

I was riding home from language school today and the water was up to my knees, in places. The town's drainage system obviously couldn't cope with the deluge and water was gushing up and out of the manhole covers, and in some cases the water pressure blew the covers off.

I felt a bit sorry for the people whose cars seemed to be filling up with water.

Pardon me while I go and round up some critters.

The first three days

"So, H, how is that non-smoking thing going for you?" asked jb last week.

"Um, not so good, actually," I muttered shamefacedly.

I thought I was ready - but I may have underestimated the need for some proper planning. It really was a bit rash.

I hadn't even made a list.

No one in my family does anything without first making a list. So really the whole first attempt was mere folly.

With list in hand, and head firmly in the right place, I'd like to reflect on my first 3 days as a non-smoker.

• Time, it seems, has ceased to progress in the normal fashion. It may, in fact, be moving backward. I'm not sure what the consequence of this turn of events will be for the universe, but on a personal level, it is doing my head in.
  
• Wow, my apartment is tidy!
• In my opinion, it is completely rational to burst into tears at the Supermarket.
• Did I mention the time dilation thing?
  
• Wonder if I am replacing an addiction to nicotine with an addiction to taking deep breaths.
  
• Facial ticks are normal, right?
• I can't seem to get enough of that deep breathing action. It's like I am chain breathing.
  
• I seem to be unable to concentrate and I don't really care that I can't.
• At present I am slightly obsessive about washing dishes.

So, if you see someone with a pronounced facial tick, crying in the Supermarket while buying dish washing liquid and breathing deeply, please don't ask them if they know what time it is. They will likely punch you in the head.

Fest-o-rama

The season of the Fest is upon us.

Last weekend was the local 'Brezelfest'. After missing out last year due to torrential rain I was determined to experience all that the Fest had to offer.

Up until now I was convinced that the population of Bretzenheim was around 50 - seriously this place is quiet. True to form the Fest brought the Bretzenheimers out of the woodwork and by the time we arrived on Saturday evening the main street was chock-a-block with people enjoying all manner of food, wine, beer and music. They take their Festing very seriously here and the organisers had even managed to slap together a side show alley (of sorts). There was even a lovely bride-to-be and her dearest friends whooping it up in matching t-shirts and red, black and gold lei.

The heart of Bretzenheim was clogged with beer wagons, bratwurst stands, and a host of other stands from local community groups (I'm pretty sure I spotted the German equivalent of the CWA) raising money in the time honoured tradition of selling booze and sausages.

At each end of the street stages were set up and we were able to enjoy the Marching band from Klein-Winternheim at one end and the enthusiastic young boys cranking out hits from the 70s, 80s and 90s at the other.

By the time we left, the locals were dancing in the streets.

No more

Today is as good as any, I thought.

One of the things that was stopping me from attempting the first item on my new year's resolution list, was the fact that the thought of it terrified me.

"Too hard, too hard, too hard," followed by "la, la, la, not listening" and perhaps a modicum of gentle rocking back and forth were my very grown up response to the simple fact that deliberately inhaling carcinogenic substances was perhaps not the best thing to do and that perhaps I should stop.

So, here I go.

It's a long way to the shop if you want a sausage roll

(the title is only funny if you are Australian)

I went to a party last night.

As it was a party consisting of my language course friends, we each brought along a 'traditional' dish from our respective homelands. After much gnashing of teeth and wishing I was from somewhere that had a readily identifiable national dish, I got down to thinking about what would qualify as traditional Australian cuisine.

Our hosts did not have a BBQ, so my initial instinct for incinerated lamb chops was quickly thwarted.

I weighed my options carefully and tried my very best to channel the spirit of Margaret Fulton circa 1972 (devils on horseback or pigs in a blanket anyone?).

So I made a list of possibilities:

• Vegemite sandwiches - quickly dismissed as lazy, and let's face it, if you weren't raised on the stuff, it really isn't an appetising prospect.
• ANZAC biscuits - already made these for this group and while they were a good option for a day time party, not appropriate for a soiree.
• Lamingtons - lead time too long and I'm likely to eat them all before the party. Also, do not go well with wine.
• Pavlova - don't have a mix-master, also too hard to transport on the tram.
  
• Fairy bread - come on now, that's just being silly.
  

Leaving me with the time honoured option of party pies and sausage rolls. Brilliant.

Prepared a batch of mini sausage rolls and took them along to the party and heated them up in the oven.

One thing I did fail to take into account - most people at the party were vegetarians.

(Yes, I know, like most iconic Australian things, most of these were probably invented in New Zealand).

I met a real live person from the internets

And I didn't even end up locked in a cellar. Bonus.

For the last little while, I've been helping jb with the Mainz Daily Photo blog while he either flitted around the world, or lay in a hospital bed recovering from surgery. He managed to escape the asylum for the weekend and he and the lovely Mrs jb met me at the market for coffee.

Such excellent fun! It is always great to meet new people, especially when they are as easy to chat with as these two. So, thanks Mr & Mrs jb for being excellent!

Of course, I didn't have the wherewithal to take a picture of them, so the lovely roses that they bought for me with have to suffice (and they smell fab too).

So, without further ado, in the words of the master himself, Herr Udo Jürgens, Vielen Dank für die Blumen!

(As an aside, my favourite bit in the video is the orderly formation of the 'mosh pit'). Also, the video may need a bit of time to buffer, otherwise it is annoyingly pausey.

1 year...and counting

This post has been languishing in draft form for 3 or so months, mainly because on reflection the original post seemed mostly negative and that is not a true representation of our experience.

Sure, there were days when I desperately wanted to take my bat and ball and go home, but those days are fewer now. You know what, I kind of like it here.

With a year under our belts, I wanted to share with you some random thoughts on uprooting ones life and transplanting it to this strange place they call Germany.

1. Cats tend to be mightily pissed off about being incarcerated in a small box and put on an aircraft for over 24 hours.
2. Don't expect said cats to forgive you quickly - unhappy cats and jet lag are not the best of bedfellows.
3. German efficiency is a fallacy, German precision is not.
   
4. Patience is a virtue.
   
5. If you are a fan of potatoes and pork, you'll think you are in Heaven, if not - welcome to Hell.
6. Würst comes in many flavours, as long as it is pork.
   
7. Queuing is not part of the national psyche - and don't even get me started about the lack of etiquette in relation to letting people alight the bus before trying to board.
   
8. German beer is your friend - your very bestest friend ever.
   
9. Germans do have a sense of humour (especially when poking gentle fun at the French).
10. Patience is a virtue.
11. Charades can be an effective form of communication.
12. Mein Gott im Himmel, this place is green - just like a big garden - and it rains alot.
13. Patience is a virtue.
    

Coming up for air

After a fabulous, but exhausting visit from my sister and her family, things are settling back to a semblance of normality.

We have spent the weekend enjoying the silence. Who knew that 2 small children could create such chaos? I promise to tell you all about it, but for the moment I'm just savouring the serenity.

Top Shelf

After a lovely exchange of comments with G in Berlin about how minimise the affects of cat allergies and what a pain in the bum it is to get a drivers licence in Germany, she suggested I might like to participate in a "what's on your bookshelf" meme-thingamebob. I gladly accept her suggestion because:

a) This week I dusted EVERY SINGLE book in the house (and I mean thoroughly dusted) as well as the bookshelves and EVERYTHING ELSE in the house (including the cats), so the photo gives the impression that my apartment is always this tidy. See how shiny that shelf is!

b) I thought it appropriate that since the initial exchange between us was about cats and how to keep them from killing my visitors, that my cat's obsession with the bookcase should be featured. What on earth possessed us to buy a 'cat cubby hole' bookshelf is beyond me. My only defence is that the bookshelf is from Ikea and I had no idea that "Bjurstå" translates to "you'll have a bugger of a time keeping your cat out of this bookshelf". Those Swedes have such an efficient language - all that in just one word.

c) The cat (Poppy) happened to to jump into one of the more enigmatic sections of the bookshelf - the one that houses some of the more esoteric books in our collection (I must add that these are my husband's books - he has a thing for old books).

d) All I've done is clean for the past week, so this gives me something to blog about.

It's Official

I have finally gone crazy. I vacuumed the ceiling today.

All for a good cause - I'm in full preparations for my sister and her family coming to visit. My nephew and bil suffer from asthma, and assorted allergies, including an allergy to cats (of which I have 2). The last time they came to stay with us in Melbourne we ended up having to make a trip to the emergency ward. I'm not taking any chances this time.

It is Spring and the cats are shedding like billyo. Lord help us all.

Anyone know how to hermetically seal 2 cats, and for them to be still alive?

Tea and Sympathy

Eventhough our Deutschkurs has finished, our little band of intrepid language aquirers have decided that we like each other enough to keep meeting once a week at a cafe for coffee and conversation (in Deutsch of course), or tea and sympathy - or perhaps a little of both. We are all in the same boat - we don't know many people and are looking to expand our circle of friends and improve our language skills.

The last time I was in a similar(ish) situation - new town, not knowing anyone, I had just finished university and moved to Darwin to start my first proper job. Darwin could possibly qualify as the friendliest town in the world. Within a week or so, I had received phone calls from friends-of-friends-of-friends inviting me somewhere - there were even squabbles between people within the same circle of friends as to who had befriended me first (I love a good bidding war). Darwin was way easier than Mainz as conversations were conducted in english, but I don't miss living in the tropics - 50 degrees north suits me just fine.

A photo a day keeps boredom away

For the next little while, I'll be helping out a fellow antipodean by contributing to Mainz Daily Photo - a project in which, yep you guessed it, one posts a photo daily from ones city of residence, in our case Mainz, along with a brief commentary.

It should be fun and gives me added incentive to get cracking on another of my new year's resolutions.

So, any Mainzers out there, I'm looking for interesting stuff to photograph. Any suggestions?

Confusitive Case

You will be pleased to hear that I passed the 'abschluss test' for my Deutschkurs. I can hear your collective sighs of relief.

I understand just enough German to be dangerous....they'll never know what hit them. My verbs continue to be all over the shop, and my grasp on the correct usage of personal pronouns remains tenuous, but I'm ready to go forth and converse - badly.

So, if in the coming weeks you see confused and perplexed locals wandering around, don't be alarmed, I've probably just tried to engage them in conversation. I'm sure they'll recover - eventually.

International Women's Day

Remember when I told you I was helping my sister prepare for a debate?

The debate is held annually to mark the occasion of International Women's Day, and is a hot ticket in Brisbane. The event is hosted by the Australian Institute of Management at the Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Centre, and is attended by over a 1000 people. Now you know why she donned the 'brown underpants'.

The debate topic was "That heels have a rightful place in the boardroom".

She was on the negative team.

So after her initial plea for help, I set to work doing what I do best - surfing the internet, and coming up with truly appalling puns.

She had sent through her initial ideas and finally, after much to-ing and fro-ing, this was the finished piece. I think she was fabulous and only had a couple of little verbal stumbles, but then again, I'm biased.



(The content is heavily Australian-centric, so it may not make a lot of sense to everyone). Also it is about 6 minutes long.....

So ladies, Happy International Women's Day.

PS. They won.

Galloping Death

There has been a devastating outbreak of Galloping Death at our house. No fatalities yet, but definitely two casualties. It started on Tuesday with a desperate phone call from R at work - "I'm sick. Can you go to the Pharmacy and get me some medicine?"

Surely this could not pose a problem. I think there is a law in Germany that states there must be at least 4 Pharmacies per square kilometre, or 1 Pharmacy per 10 people, whichever is the lesser figure. You can't go anywhere without tripping over one. Either the German people are very vigilant about their health (or are all hypochondriacs) or there is so much scope in their health system to support that many Pharmacists. I'm tending to lean toward the Hypochondriac Hypothesis at the moment.

I managed to procure some medicine without too many dramas, although I do miss the convenience of buying basic medicines like Panadol/paracetamol and cough syrup at the supermarket.

By Wednesday, R had a full-blown 'man-cold' - complete with an acute chicken soup dependency.

By Saturday, I was sick as well, and the standoff had began.

"Can you get me a glass of water?"

"No, I can't. I'm too sick to move."

"But I'm dying."

After several unsuccessful attempts to train the cats to fetch the necessities of life for us, I relented, and got him a glass of water. He was only moderately dehydrated by this time.

By Sunday, I was feverish and firmly ensconced on the couch with the computer and two furry hot water bottles that purred. R was recovering and had to fetch and carry for me.

R has declared himself fit to return to work, but I'm taking it easy today - just me, the cats and our rather substantial DVD collection.

Oh Happy Day.

Overcapitalised

I really enjoy the challenge of learning a new language. It is bemusing, perplexing, and at times, frustrating. At the moment I'm having a love/hate relationship with the requirement that all nouns must be capitalised.

I put this slightly bipolar attitude down to my laziness. I resent that when I write in German I have to take care to begin all nouns with a capital letter. On the other hand, it does offer the novice/complete hack a helping hand when reading - the nouns stand out like beacons and I find this helpful in untwisting the unfamiliar syntax.

Just don't get me started on separable verbs.

Second speaker for the negative

It looked like such an innocuous email from my sister. There is was, piggybacked on a discussion about a present for an upcoming family birthday, information about changes of email addresses, and potential Skyping opportunities on the weekend.

"I'm participating in a debate soon. Can you help me develop my argument/speech? I'm second speaker for the negative. kthnxbai."

Foolishly, I said yes. There are now two of us wearing brown underpants.

I have a hazy recollection of participating in a debate in high school, but the memory must have been too traumatic and I've repressed it - all that remains is a sense of overwhelming panic.

Debating tips gratefully received.

Sorry

Sorry
Originally uploaded by Halans

I rushed home from Deutschkurs today to watch the PM deliver the speech.

It was long overdue.

It was confrontingly honest.

It was sincere.

It was moving.

It had a joke!

It didn't pretend that it would be easy.

It contained that magical word - sorry.

It is the first step on a long journey.

It made my heart glad.

Edited to add: at the suggestion of a commenter, I am adding some more information, for those who aren't from Australia, and therefore were left scratching their heads at this post.

On the 13th February 2008, the Australian Government formally apologised to Indigenous Australians, particularly those who were part of the Stolen Generations, who were forcibly removed from their families as part of the appalling government policies relating to Indigenous Australians from the early 1900s to the late 1960s. It recognised that the laws and policies of successive governments tore apart families, destroyed lives and inflicted great pain and suffering on the original inhabitants of Australia.

More information is available on the BBC news website.

For the Mens

The Europeans are famous throughout the world for their relaxed attitude to nudity, and I do admire them for this, but you can imagine my chagrin when I realised that the local pool actually has male and female changing cubicles in the not so separate changing area.

This was pointed out to me by my language exchange friend on the weekend when we went swimming.

She pointed to the door of a changing cubicle and translated 'umkleidung' and then pointed to the bit I should have noticed on my first visit to the pool - the internationally recognised icon of a stick figure wearing a dress - "for the womens" she said, and then in the next block of changing cubicles and pointed to the internationally recognised icon of a stick figure not wearing a dress - "for the mens" she said.

I immediately though to myself "Ooops" and distinctly remembered that I had used the umkleidung "for the mens" in my last visit. None of the men I shared the room with seemed to mind though.

When I related this particularly hilarous story to my husband, I noticed that the colour quickly drained from his face.

I say again, "Ooops".

Lektion Eins

I'm giving myself a big tick on this item in my new year's resolution list.

I started German lessons today at the VHS. First impressions are good - the teacher is engaging and my fellow students seem quite fun, so it should be a good way to spend the next 5 weeks.

The class consists of people from a delightful array of countries: Spain, Surinam, France, Mexico, Brazil, Romania, Bulgaria, and in lane 8 representing Australia - me.

We kicked off with the traditional interview and introduce your partner to the rest of the class game - and it seems most people like riding bicycles and swimming - except for my partner who told me his hobby was storytelling (Geschichten erzählen). I'm so going to sit next to him tomorrow, maybe he'll tell me a story.

Helau! It's Rosenmontag!

I'm not sure what it's all about but I've never seen such a high concentration of clown suits in my life.

The constant refrain of "Helau" does tend to grate on ones nerves after a while.

I feel sorry for the scantily clad women with pom poms - it can't be more than 2 degrees C.

The locals all seem to be having a whale of a time. Even Gutenburg has donned a festive hat.

365 days

it's official
Originally uploaded by heliospheric

Wow, that was fast.

I'm pretty sure not everyone's wedding day starts with an appointment for a moving consultant to come and work out a quote for moving to another country....

My wedding day went something like this:

• 7 am - get up and have a shower
  
• 8am - appointment with moving consultant to provide quote on moving to Germany
  
• 10 am - brunch
• 4 pm - get hair done with my sisters
  
• 5 pm - get makeup done
• 6 pm - get dressed
• 6:15 pm - curse my own stupidity for buying the cute, but way too high shoes, wonder it I will break my ankle
• 7:15 pm - call taxi
• 7:30 pm - arrive at venue
• 7:32 pm - crack open first bottle of Bollinger (to calm the nerves - you understand)
  
• 7:45 pm - remind Dad that there are to be NO speeches, he seems slightly deflated
  
• 8:00 pm - walk through door with Dad and see my family and friends all grinning like maniacs at me
• 8:01 pm - realise that R must be boiling in the kilt and heavy wool jacket (it was around 32 degrees C that night)
  
• 8:20 pm - say "I do", kiss my husband
• 8:25 pm - crack open second bottle of Bollinger - the rest of the night is a bit of a blur of happiness
  
• 3:00 am - go to bed.

To celebrate our anniversary my husband whisked me off to a fabulous restaurant and spoilt me rotten. He is definitely a keeper.

Release the Hounds

I’ve never owned a dog. My Dad could possibly claim that this was his single greatest (some would say only) victory as head of our household. He grew up on a farm, where dogs were for rounding up sheep and definitely were never allowed in the house. The conversation (had biannually) when we were growing up went something like this:

“Daaaad, can we have a dog?”

“No, you kids can’t have a bloody dog. Dogs are for working, not for pets. Having a dog in town is not right.”

Sure, I like the concept of dogs, with their waggly tails and their adorable puppy dog eyes, but I was a bit of a novice about the realities and practicalities of dog ownership.

I am a novice no more. Over the weekend we looked after our friends’ dogs while they were in Austria for a wedding. They live in a small village in the countryside, and I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend, watching English telly (blessing be upon the satellite dish) and taking rambling walks through the vineyards with the dogs.

Our charges were possibly the most comical hounds to ever have graced the planet: a poodle with an endearing under bite, who for all intents and purposes is a cat; and a wiry Dachshund with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes and a penchant for humping EVERYTHING.

For the first day and a bit, I was convinced that the poodle had an incomplete digestive tract. I saw the food go in, and I just assumed at some point it would undergo digestion, the nutrients would be absorbed, and then the waste would be eliminated, but no matter how far, or how often we walked, he simply refused to poo. Finally, something magical happened. It is best described in gymnastic parlance as a “straddle press handstand with splits and poo”. Had I not seen it, I would not have believed a dog could crap with a degree of difficulty of 4.5.

They were for the most part great friends - except for when it came to the humping blanket, which we named Cecile the Saucy Minx (CtSM). This was when things got interesting. It seems they had both fallen in love – in the biblical sense - with CtSM, and they vied for her love and affection, trying to outdo each other, and made sure that the other wasn’t getting any, ahem, special time with her.

The verdict? Dogville - great for a visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. I’m pretty happy living in Catland.

Blessed be....this House

While I was in town this morning, Richard had a visit from 3 wise men (well children dressed as the 3 wise men) and a star. Needless to say he was extremely perplexed.

After explaining what they were doing, the children sang him some songs and scribbled the following over our doorway:

20 + C + M + B + 08

Apparently this is a Catholic tradition to celebrate the Epiphany. So, you can all relax, we've been well and truly blessed.

All Richard could think was, "Helen will kick herself that she missed this."

He was right.

Although I suppose it is only fair that he have his share of strange experiences while answering the door, because I had mine during Halloween.

Come the Resolution

Comrades, while the year is all shiny and new, unsullied by disappointments and annoyances, I thought I'd draft my 2008 manifesto, and do so publicly in the interests of transparency and accountability.

Item 1: The Body

• Enough with the smoking already - it will kill you. Stop it.
  
• Exercise and fun are not mutually exclusive. Get on your bike, back in the pool, join a team. Anything. Make sure it is fun.
  
• Moderation is not a dirty word.

Item 2: The Mind

• For your own sanity, try harder to learn to speak German. Sign up for more classes.
  
• Write every day.
  
• Take photos every day.
  
• Read something every day.
• Get a job. The life of a Hausfrau can be somewhat tedious.
  

Item 3: The Soul

• Travel, travel, travel - you live in the middle of Europe, you can go to France to buy cheese if you want - do it.
• Try 3 new things this year.
  
• Make a new friend.
• Write more letters to Dad.
• De-lurk.

I'll keep you posted on my progress. Wish me luck.

This Country's gone Crackers

I had noticed the packs of fireworks in the supermarket in the days leading up to New Year's Eve, and thought it funny that in a country where crossing the street against the green man can lead to a slow moving Oma springing into action to affect a citizen's arrest for such a flagrant disregard for the rules and public safety, that fireworks are so readily available to all and sundry.

The sale of fireworks in Australia is illegal, except of course in Canberra, the home of the 3 Ps - politics, pornography and pyrotechnics. They were eventually banned after generations of children had lost fingers, and their sight due to unfortunate accidents with Catherine Wheels and Roman Candles on Cracker Night.

The first salvos of New Year's Eve were fired slightly prematurely at around 3 minutes before midnight by small clusters of people out on the street. It seemed that every household had a cache of motars and they were determined to outdo each other.

I decided to observe this ritual from the safety of our house.

It lasted for around 30 minutes, but by the 10 minute mark, the street was so full of smoke and the smell of gunpowder that you could hardly see anything, and you could be forgiven for thinking you were in a war zone, rather than a 30km/h zone.

How ever you celebrated, I hope 2008 is a cracker - and that you have all your fingers intact.

26 Again

A few days ago, I turned 26 for the ninth time.

It is a running joke with a friend, whom I first met when I was 26 and living in Melbourne. She reckoned that to her, I would always be 26, and who am I to disagree? I really like being 26, and I've gotten pretty good at it.

My birthday fell on a Sunday this year, and given that Germany should basically put up signs at the borders on Sundays that say "Sorry, we're closed", there was a risk that nothing would be open other than the kebab shops. Fortunately, things were open, and we did not have to resort to having a birthday kebab at the Imbiss. Champagne and fabulous food beat a kebab hands down.

Having a birthday that falls between Christmas and New Year has always annoyed me, and I had to put my foot down very early and insist that I get 2 separate presents for Christmas and Birthday.

Family lore has it that my sister is to blame for this awkwardly placed birthday. I was born about 2 weeks early. The family was enjoying its annual Christmas holidays at Nelson Bay, and my daring-do sister, at the age of 2, decided that she didn't need floaties anymore and jumped into the deep end of the local pool sans floatation devices. Needless to say, she did need her floaties and promptly started flailing around, prompting my very pregnant mother to make a dash for the pool to perform the rescue. I arrived later that night, forever doomed to celebrate my birthday in the calendar's twilight zone.