EuroLife: Day 36

So I must begin today's post with a rather embarrassing admission of my prior ignorance, and what is still worse, with the admission that I may have infected you, fair reader, with this same ignorance. For some months now I have suffered under the false impression that Napoleon lost the battle of Jena. Not only did he win the battle, but in doing so, he dealt a devastating and even decisive blow to the Prussian army. I'm glad to get that off my chest.

Here you see the Napoleon stone. Today we learned that Napoleon stood at this very spot when he planned his victory. Though you wouldn't know it from looking at this picture, this stone rests on one of the highest points around Jena. The second picture gives you a better sense of the commanding view Napoleon had as he prepared for battle.


This picture was taken from the Napoleon monument, looking back towards the city. Contour and depth can be difficult to discern in pictures. In the foreground of the picture you can see a grass plane that slopes down, sometimes steeply, until it reaches the woods. If you go through the woods for a couple hundred yards you will reach the edge of a ridge that drops sharply into the city. There is a bench on the edge of that ridge, from which you can look out. The next picture was taken from that bench.




Its a brisk fifteen minute walk from the Napoleon stone to the bench where the third picture was taken. From this bench, its pretty much a straight down hill walk for another fifteen minutes until you reach our apartment. See the square of buildings in the bottom center of the picture? Our street runs along the top left of this square.



Most days I walk to the Napoleon stone and back. Its a good hour walk, and its cheaper and easier than going to the pool.

In the second picture, the one taken from the Napoleon stone, you can see the field that covers the top of the mountain. The field is probably a mile and a half long and about 1000 yards wide. I've often wondered why there were no trees on this plateau, and today I figured out why. On the far side of the field, there is a plaque that explains the area, and apparently our idyllic field, where sheep now roam and poop freely, the Soviets used to practice tank maneuvers. Until 1989 there was a large fence around the whole area, and Soviet tanks engaged in mock battles.

Somehow I could reconcile my images of the children that now fly kites on the plane with the stories of the battle that took place there long ago, but the image of Soviet tanks adds a jarring new element to my sense of the place.

And now I come to the comical part of the story. The plaque explained at great length how the years of mock tank warfare actually helped to create -- even to nurture -- the present ecosystem. Apparently the tanks caused deep ruts, where large puddles now stand, puddles that are home to rare salamanders and frogs. To read the plaque, you would think mock tank battles were the best thing that could happen to an ecosystem.

So the field now contains a delicate ecosystem, created by tanks, protected from commercial development by law, and marred only by the omnipresence of sheep poop.

EuroLife: Day 35

Today I am happy to report that Dolores-Bird relations could not be better. They have accepted my food offering, and have spread the news to all of their friends. Today I will give you a brief account of the birds outside of our window. Those of you who think birdwatching is lame (and you know who you are, Angela) can skip today's entry.

The most common bird at our feeder is the Great Tit. We have a ton of them, and you see them all over Jena. They're very cute, with striking yellow bellies and black and white faces. I still don't have a great picture of the Great Tit, probably because I'm not as inclined to jump up and take one when I see them. For a while, they were really pushing the lone Blue Tit around, so they got on my nerves.



As I said in an earlier post, they are also blue (rather than black), and their faces are quite different from that of the Great Tit.The Blue Tit is my personal favorite. These guys look a lot like the Great Tit, but are significantly smaller. They have white cheeks with a black stripe through their eyes; I like to think of them as the Zorro of the Bird Kingdom. They like to sit on the top of the bird feeder until it is available. Really, everything they do is cute.

We now also have quite a few European Greenfinches. These birds are about the size of the Great Tit, and they are a dull olive green interspersed with yellow. We saw one for the first time yesterday, and by yesterday evening there was a pair. They are rapidly taking over; there were at least half a dozen hanging around today.

They are interesting to watch, but they are bullies at the feeder. Sometimes one will sit on the feeder for minutes and peck at any bird that tries to share the feeder. Often, the finch will not actually be eating when it does this; it just likes to hog the territory, I guess. There is one pair that does something even more strange: even though both look like adults, the male seems to feed the female. He gets seeds from the feeder and puts them in her mouth! Sometimes she'll sit on the feeder bar with him while he does this, other times she'll fly next to the him to eat. If anyone who actually knows a thing about birds can tell me why they do this, I'd be glad to know!




There is only one more bird worthy of mention, and I can't take any credit for this one. A Great Spotted Woodpecker comes most mornings and pecks away at a tree right outside our window. It's truly incredible to look at, and my picture doesn't come close to capturing him. I'll keep trying.

I suppose the Magpies should also be noted. They birds are as common as Crows are back home, but they look pretty cool. I seem to remember some cartoon about two British Magpies...a very old Black and White cartoon...does anyone else remember this? Michael does not.

EuroLife: Day 34

Food: Part I

The time has come to talk about food. I would like to give you all a thoughtful account of the specialties and the distinguishing qualities of Thuringian food. There is so much one might say on that topic. The towns and regions of Germany have long histories with distinct traditions that go back hundreds of years. Each town has its own beers. With the exception of the major exports like Becks and Warsteiner, the local stores only carry Thuringian beers. Were are only a few hours from Munich, and yet its pretty hard to find the beers I used to drink there.

Each little valley and town has its own culinary tradition. You can find wurst most everywhere, but there seem to be more varieties of wurst than there are permutations on pig, cow, chicken, intestines, ribs, liver, etc.

It's also interesting to note how much of German cuisine bears indication of its origin in a time before refrigeration and rapid transportation. In particular, this can be seen in the seemingly infinite ways the Germans have for preparing vegetables with vinegar.

There is much that I could say along these lines. One day, hopefully, I'll be able to say a lot more about history, geography, and cuisine. For the moment, though, I'm going to talk about food in less elevated terms. about Aldi and our hot plates.

In the picture above you can see our kitchen. I took this picture from the same spot that I took the picture of the entertainment center for the first blog entry. If you consider these two pictures together, you will get a sense of the size of our living area. At the moment we don't have a table. When we get one, it will probably sit to the left in the foreground of this picture.

This isn't just our kitchen. This is our "built-in" kitchen. Upon arriving here, we learned that most apartments (more than 90%, I would guess) come without a kitchen. Not just without appliances, but without a kitchen. That means no fridge, no oven, no sink, no cabinets. Most apartments come with an empty room or wall, a space where a kitchen may be placed. Then you have to go to the kitchen store. They have whole stores with nothing but kitchens in them. The kitchens sell 2,000 Euros or more. Needless to say, this was a moving expense we had not expected. Add this to cost of furnishing an apartment, and you have one big problem for our credit cards.


Thankfully, we found a furnished apartment with a built in kitchen. That's the good news about the kitchen. The bad news you can see for yourself. We plan on getting rid of the microwave, but at the moment we have just enough counter space for a cutting board. We don't have an oven, though we do have two "burners" -- glorified hot plates, really. As you might guess, our lack of an oven limits our cooking options. Last week I looked online to find traditional Thuringian recipes. I found a number of interesting looking recipes, all of which required an oven.

We face other challenges in our attempts to cook, many of which have to do with the size of most groceries stores in the city and the selection they offer. I'll talk about the grocery stores -- and the almost daily ritual of grocery shopping -- on another day. The grocery stores deserve a day of there own.


I'll close with a brief inventory and explanation of the contents of our fridge. On the bottom level you see two bottles of sparkling water, a cucumber, a basket of carrots, and colored peppers. The sparkling water is cheap and good. About three times a week I carry a package with six 1.5L bottles seven blocks from the store to our apartment. The produce is also remarkably cheap. I suspect subsidies. In particular, the colored peppers are cheap. At home they usually cost $3.99 a pound for red, yellow, or orange. Here we pay about two dollars for a package with a green, a red, and a yellow pepper. With all of these vegetables we make salad almost every night.

On the next shelf you can see jam (for Dolores' breakfast), mushrooms, and a half-empty package of saurkraut. On the next shelf you can see broccoli, which we ate this evening, a head of lettuce, and a few packages of salami. On the top shelf we have Gouda cheese and eggs. In the door there is milk in a box, orange juice in a similar box, plain yogurt for muesli, and a bottle of some sparkling fruit juice (no sugar or artificial flavors).

Cheap fresh vegetables, an almost infinite variety of fresh breads and rolls, and host of German and French cheeses -- these are the things that keep are oven-less cuisine from becoming monotonous.

EuroLife Day 33

Thank you! We have been getting a lot of comments lately, and we love it! You'd be surprised how excited we get whenever a new comments shows up :)

Today was the perfect example of why Sundays are my favorite day in Jena. We started the day with our walk to church, and I have to tell you things didn't look all that promising. We have been in a cloud--and I mean that literally--for a week now. Michael says he saw the sun last Sunday for a little while when hiking, but I can't confirm this wild claim. I myself had not seen the sun for over a week when we set out for church this morning. During the service, however, things started to look up. About halfway through, the sun started to stream through the windows. Our church, incidentally, is in a very nice building. It is a former youth hostel/youth center, and resembles a very large house. The sanctuary has windows along the wall and behind the altar. I really love it.

After the service, we met a few new people and I successfully carried on an introductory conversation in German. It was fairly brief, but I was proud of myself for the rest of the day. Baby steps. We then persuaded two of our friends to join us for an afternoon hike.

We started out at Landgrafen, which is the hill closest to our apartment. Actually, I must digress. There really aren't any hills surrounding Jena; we just learned this today. They are neither hills nor mountains. Instead, Jena sits in a giant hole. This makes sense, and should give you a better idea of how the city is situated. Apparently, the soil is primarily chalk and (I think) limestone, and it is quite soft. The river that runs through Jena, the Saale, carved a long, deep hole through the area. Jena sits in that hole. As a result, it looks as if Jena is surrounded by hills. (It is, of course, surrounded by hills in one sense, but relative to the rest of Germany, it is not.) The hills are all about the same height, which makes sense in light of this news, and it was remarkable to look down on Jena and see it as one giant sinkhole. (Not stinkhole, it really is quite lovely, but a hole nontheless.) This also explains why, once you have reached the very top of any of these local hills, it feels as if you've reached a plain, rather than a peak. The first photo shows one corner of the hole that is Jena :)

I will likely continue to call them hills or mountains, but now we both know the truth.

So, off we went to Landgrafen. After climbing (and climbing and climbing) we reached the field where Napoleon was defeated. The second photo shows the Napoleon memorial. It's a bit odd; they really seem to celebrate Napolean, though of course he was the enemy. I suppose they are just proud to have defeated him, but it sometimes looks more like a celebration of Napoleon himself. Well, there we are anyway. Those are our friends Rose (from Kenya) and Kirsten (from England.) I will leave it to you to determine which is which.

We carried on past Landgrafen to a "hill" that we had not yet hiked, Sonnenberg. It was an extremely beautiful walk and, not surprisingly, many other people were out for the afternoon. Autumn is very pretty here, and reminds me of the Fall in NY or PA. The leaves are particularly red right now, having been almost exclusively yellow for most of last week.

Finally, we reached our destination: though, sadly, we can't remember its name. Here's a picture, in any case. It was a lovely little restaurant, and we arrived in time for coffee and cake. Rose and I indulged and had hot chocolate (heisse chokolade) with our cake. I love Germany. The menu also offered, though we did not try, both Garlic and Onion liquors.

We headed back to Landgrafen along different trails and rested along one of the many benches along the way. The trails are often very steep, and they have benches placed at scenic overlooks all along the trails. Like many of these views, it's difficult to capture in a photograph how impressive the landscape is.


I will include one more photo of the trail, I realize I am bombarding you with pictures today. It was a wonderful day, though. And now I hope you know why Sunday is my favorite day in Jena.

EuroLife: Day 33

Before reading this post, you must go see two videos on YouTube. Here are the addresses:

Levis: www.youtube.com/watch?v=HG4MKtgeFyc
One: www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFWPeVfWB9o

Now you've seen one of the most beautiful television adds and one of the best music videos from the mid-nineties. They present two visions of Eastern Europe, visions that are grainy, black, and white. They picture the East in a range of murky grays and black-brown shades that seem as noble as they are drab.

The song "One" comes from U2's 1991 release, Achtung Baby, an album they largely recorded in East Berlin. Almost every song on the record takes on a new meaning when you remember where it was recorded, and when you remember that it was released just one month after reunification. In the first track, Bono sings of the subway moving from the East to the first station in the West, Zoo Station. "I'm ready for the shuffle, ready for the deal, ready to let go of the steering wheel," Bono sings. The solemn black and white images of the East present a stark contrast to this image of the West. And then there's the song called "One," a portentous title in light of October third. In this admittedly flexible song -- it seems to be about the band, Bono's marriage, Germany, Ireland...at one point Bono even dedicated it to the people of Serajevo -- Bono proclaims, "we are one but we're not the same."

Anyway, the video for the song features Larry driving a Trabi through the wet, deserted streets of East Berlin. (It also features him in drag!) For the Achtung Baby tour, the band brought along a number of Trabis, which they hung from the ceiling. They built the stage lighting into the headlights. With the video, the tour, and the Levis jeans commercial, the car entered my consciousness as symbol that skillfully and ambiguously blended kitsch and genuine nostalgia for times more simple and earnest.

The name of the car proves equally ambiguous. "Trabbant" means satellite. The name might indicate the the success of Sputnik, launched in the same year as the Trabi, or it might be taken as an expression of the relationship between Eastern Germany and the Soviet Union.

The car symbolizes -- no, exemplifies -- all that was worst about the planned economies of Eastern Europe. The design of the car remained unchanged for thirty-five years. With a two stroke engine, the car went from 0 to 60 in 21 seconds. It was designed to drive at about forty-five miles an hour. The body of the car was made out of fiberglass, and it included recycled waste products from the Soviet cotton industry and phenol resins from the East Germany dye industry.

People often waited on a list for years to get the car. As a result, used cars often sold for more than new ones. As a result, people who did not need the car put their names on the list, figuring they could turn around and sell the car for a profit. And, as a result of this, the waiting lists grew longer still.

Thirty-one million of these cars were made, and there are still more than 66,000 on the road today. We see them pretty often around Jena.

Despite all the problems with the car, its nostalgia or kitsch value remains. In good condition, the car sells today for as much as 10,000 Euros. Struck by the marketing possibilities, a small company in Bavaria recently purchased the name. They plan to put BMW engines in them and sell them for a whopping 50,000 Euros. So start saving your nickels and dimes.

So, once again, I've published under Dolores' name. Oh well. Michael.

EuroLife Day 32

Today I am proud to report that the birds and I are getting along much better than we were when I last wrote. Yesterday morning they seemed to be convinced that the feeder was a trap, which made for some pretty entertaining antics. One brave bird at a time, they would land in a nearby branch, look at the feeder, fly to it, touch it, and immediately take off...this went on for quite a while. By this morning they seem to have decided that all was well. So here is a better picture of the Great T. It's still not fantastic because, for now, the flash really scares them...and we're working on overcoming those "the feeder's a trap" fears. Hopefully, in time, they'll either stop being afraid of the flash or the sun will come out. (Surely, one of these days, the sun must make an appearance...wouldn't you think?)

They are very cute birds. From what I can tell, we have a big group of the Great Tit and one Blue Tit who likes to hang out with them. I keep looking for a second, but I really think there's only one so far. I'm hoping that we get some more birds as the weather gets colder. They have Green Finches around here, and I'd like to see one of those.

OK. Apparently not everybody thinks that birds are as cool as I do, so I'll turn my attention to something new: trying to watch a movie here in Jena. We have given up on joining the local video rental service. There seems only to be the one, and it is self-service. Nobody mans the store, you just come and go with a membership card. But you have to be a member to get into the store. And you can't become a member until you talk to someone who works there. Are you beginning to see the problem? There must be some trick we don't know, but it's worth mentioning that we asked a German friend and he didn't know it either.

The movie theaters are very nice inside, and they show both German movies and American movies dubbed in German. (We have now seen Ratatouille and The Murder of Jesse James by the Cowardly Bob Ford, both in German., but also a funny German movie called Stellungswechsel.) They sell beer in the theaters, and the seats are super comfy and fancy. The show times, on the other hand, are really rather tricky. Some movies are shown every day. Lots of them are shown on something like the following schedule: Monday at 5, Wednesday at 1, Saturday at 7.

We haven't yet found anything that publishes the showtimes. I thought I found a website with the listings yesterday, but when I followed the link it said (translated here) "Please send us an email with "Jena showtimes" in the subject, and we'll email you todays schedule." I sent an email, but no schedule followed. So, we tend to just go and hope that they'll be something watchable. This is how we ended up watching the Jesse James movie last night. Was it any good? Beats me. I barely understood a word!

Here's one more random photo from our walk last weekend. Some of you might recognize the man with the backpack. The plan is to tackle a new mountain this weekend!

EuroLife Day 31

I apologize the for the picture, but this is ecological diligence at its best -- our bio-recycle bin. When you have a small place and four different recycle bins, the bins must be small, and this means they must be emptied often. In addition to our recycle bins we have a cupboard where we put our old beer and water bottles. These must be returned on a semi-regular basis for the rather lucrative deposits.

It's tired. I just wrote that. I meant to say that its late, and I am tired. So I'll just give you a few quotes. The first two are translated into English for your convenience.

"You went hiking again this week? You like to go hiking, and your philosophers...you two aren't typical Americans, are you." Our friend at church, after we told her we went hiking during the past week.

"It rains a lot. Sometimes the rain becomes warmer, and then you say, hey, it must be July." A colleague of mine describing the weather in Munster, which he tells me is far worse than Jena.

"I need my dinner...my desert...no, my medicine...whatever its called." Dolores, aptly capturing both of our states of mind on this fine day.

"I just realized that the three people I know best here in Germany are named Tim, Timo, and Temilo." Me, reflecting on the names of three colleagues.

And, now, finally, a eulogy of sorts for Patrick, who correctly answered all of the questions from day twenty eight. Well, actually, instead of praising Patrick, I think I shall praise his noble name, a name that stems from the Latin "Patricius." The name means noble or patrician. It was the name of St. Augustine's father, and also name of the patron saint of green beer and green rivers (in Chicago, at least). The root of the name is related to pater and patria, to fatherliness and the love of one's country. A noble name indeed.

Eurolife Day 30

***WARNING: This post appear to, though does not actually contain, adult content****

For three days, now, I have been involved in something of a battle with the local birds. Not the local ladies, but the local birds of the winged variety. It's not yet clear who's going to win this battle, but I thought it was time to tell the tale.

I spend a fair amount of time on our couch. We don't yet have a table (without a car, getting one's a bit tricky), so that's where I do my little Rosetta Stone German lessons. While practicing my pronunciation of German phrases the other day, I looked out the window and saw the cutest little birds playing on a tree nearby. They seemed to be playing, at least. They were flinging their heads back and forth, throwing leaves, bark and debris everywhere. I got up to get a better look, and then went off to the internet to find out what they were. (I was, and am, pretty sure that I had seen them before on our hikes.)

Here's what I found out: what I was looking at was either the Blue Tit or the Great Tit. So, off to Google I went to find out which was which. I typed in: "blue tits and great tits" Fortunately I caught myself just in time. This is not a Google search the results of which I'd like to see. After some more carefully constructed searches, I could see the difference between the two birds. Now it was time to figure out which ones I was looking at.

That's when the trouble began. These birds can smell my camera. They can smell me through the walls of our apartment. They are beginning to drive me crazy. I'll look outside and see them perched on a nearby branch, but as soon as I get anywhere near the window, off they go. I can't tell you how long I've spent sitting on our window sill, camera in hand, just waiting...if I'm there, they don't come by. Once I'm not there, back they come.

This morning, I snuck into the living room early, camera in hand, to catch them. Off they flew.

(I do actually work on my dissertation, for the record...but there are many free hours in my days over here!)

So, the photos in todays post are really not very good at all. But I did learn something. It seems that I have both the Great and the Blue Tit out in my backyard! (Note how carefully constructed that last sentence had to be.) The Great Tit has a black crown and throat and white cheeks. The Blue Tit is blue, obviously (though the difference is not super clear on cloudy days) and has white cheeks with a black stripe across its eyes. Both have yellow bellies. I tried to use pictures that show the differences, but you are welcome to look at Wikipedia for better pictures :)

It turns out they flock together in the colder months. They are supposed to be super playful birds, known for their acrobatic feedings. They like to hang from feeders, upside down, eating and singing.

That's where I got the idea for Phase II. I bought a bird feeder today, filled it with sunflower seeds, and hung it up on a branch near the window. (All if this sounds a lot easier than it is with a vocabulary of my size; it was quite a project :) If all goes well, better pictures will follow.

On a totally unrelated note, I made a wonderful discovery today! I was at the bakery buying some bread and looking for a treat. (I have developed a bit of a pastry habit.) There in the case was a single, perfect, Black & White Cookie. The kind you really only find in a NY bakery. I ordered my bread and a "Schwarz und Weis", but the woman reached for a Black & White muffin. I showed her what I wanted and she said "Ahh, Der Americaner"

The plan was to share it with Michael. Things did not go as planned. But I was right; it was perfect. It tasted exactly like one from home. (Right down to the hint of lemon in the white icing.) The only difference I could see was that they seem to ice the whole cookie in white icing, then half in chocolate. The thing is, I believe I in the value of cultural diversity. As such, I will continue to support this bakery, despite this minor change.

EuroLife: Day 29

A U-Google-E for Jeff Albertson

Many of us know Jeff Albertson as a somewhat curmudgeonly and reclusive man who sells comics. Yet how many of us know the real Jeff Albertson, a man who feels, a man who uses sarcasm as a defense to hide his insecurity? How many of us know the real Jeff Albertson? How many of us know, for instance, that he holds a masters degree in folklore and mythology? How many of us know that he translated the Lord of the Rings into Klingon?

Why do we only remember the bad about Mister ... yes, Mister Albertson? Sure we could dwell on his failed relationships with Agnes and Edna. But how many of us know that Mister Albertson is a member of Mensa?

Just the other day Mister Albertson demonstrated his intelligence by determining that Old Style is in fact cheaper than Krombacher (by .o44 Euros per liter). He also correctly determined the exchange rate at which Krombacher and Old Style would cost the same -- $1.37 dollars per Euro. He figured out the how much I pay for state and federal tax (though not sales tax) on six pack of Old Style -- 40 cents per six pack. Finally, he determined that even if the federal tax on beer were repealed, Old Style purchased in Alsaska would still be more expensive than Krombacher.

To further prove his brilliance, Mister Albertson corrected my claim that there are 31 gallons of beer in a barrel. There are in fact 31.5. Finally, he used his investigative skills and determined that the 16% VAT tax does indeed apply to beer in Germany. (Which means the taxes on beer in Germany are almost the same as the taxes on beer in Indiana -- which are 11%, or 17% if you include sales tax.)

Yes, there can be do doubt, Mister Albertson is a genius, even if his real name is Rusty Shackelford.

P.S. There is a rumor that Patrick actually answered the questions before Rusty. He didn't send them directly to the blog, and I couldn't find them elsewhere. However, assuming his answers turn out the be correct, he will receive an honorable and even laudatory mention at a later date.

For those of you who don't know Mister Albertson, I've included his picture below. For those of you who don't know Rusty, well we need to keep his true identity safe from big brother.

The Simpsons character

Jeff "Comic Book Guy" Albertson

EuroLife: Day 28

The Price of Beer

Today's blog entry is intended to test your mathematical skills. Send your answers to us as comments. The first person to send us the correct answers will be eulogized in my next blog entry. Good luck!

Problem 1

For .6o Euros I can buy a half litter bottle of Krombacher's, a good local Pilsner. Krombachers is similar to more famous German imports like Warsteiner or Becks, though I prefer it to either. In Indiana, Dolores and I would occasionally splurge for a six pack of Old Style. For those of who aren't from the Midwest or who do not have refined taste in beers, Old Style is a Wisconsin beer that is allegedly drunk in great quantities at Wriggly Field. A six pack of this fine brew will set you back $3.50. Incidentally, we once invited some friends over for a blind taste test between Old Style and PBR, and as Dolores and I expected, Old Style carried the day. One recommendation: put the Old Style in the freezer for about twenty minutes before drinking it. It should be served very cold.

So, here's the question: which is more expensive, Krombacher's or Old Style? What would the exchange rate between Euro's and Dollars have to be for both beers to cost the same price?

Question 2

In 2005 Rick Santorum (R-PA), eleven brave Republicans, and one lone Democrat tried to repeal the $18 per barrel federal tax on beer. The bill never reached a vote, but at least now we know who really has the people's interests at heart. State taxes on beer vary from state to state. Alaska has the highest tax, at $1.07 for gallon. In Wyoming you pay the lowest state taxes, only $.02 per gallon. (I suspect some kind of collusion between Dick Cheney and Haliburton.) In Indiana the state tax is $.115.

The Question: when I pay $3.50 for a six pack of Old Style in the State of Indiana, how much of my money goes to the government (ignore sales tax). Hint: a barrel of beer contains 31 gallons. If Santorum's bill had passed, would Old Style in Alaska be cheaper than Krombacher in Jena.

Extra Credit

Does the 7% or 16% VAT tax apply to beer in Germany?

Extra Extra Credit

Why is German beer so cheap? Conversely, why is American beer so expensive? Does Haliburton have anything to do with the high prices consumers are paying at the package store?

Here is a picture of some sheep. Seven out of ten sheep prefer Krombacher to Old Style.

EuroLife: Day 27

Interior Spaces

This might look like a picture of our bed, but actually its a picture of our bed-room. The bed just got in the way. It does, after all, take up most of the room. Of course there is much to say in favor of our bed. It is very comfortable. It came from Ikea, and thus has a certain Scandinavian chic. It was free. Finally, you can't blame the bed for the size of the room.

Our apartment here is 50 square meters, or approximately 450 square feet, though it feels much smaller due to poor design. Probably a fourth of our floor space is taken up by a rather useless entry way and a long hallway.

There is much more to say about our apartment, about how we got it, and about why, despite its small size, we fell so blessed to have it. I had intended to fill today's blog with the story of how we found this place, but I have decided, instead, to tell the story of our rainy Sunday afternoon, a story that, in its own way, says something about our four-hundred and fifty feet of personal space.

Sunday morning is church. This means a forty minute walk to the south side of town. Today there was a fine mist, and I kept opening and closing my umbrella. After the walk there is a service that usually lasts about two hours, and then there is an hour of coffee and conversation. We often speak German with the natives, though I fear a small English language ghetto may be forming. There are a number of English speakers -- Laura, an American who is here with a teaching Fulbright; Kirstin, a British woman from York, who is here for a year as an exchange student; Rose, a student from Ghana who is getting her masters in ecology; Jeff Davis, who works with the Student Baptist group in Jena and who lives here with his wife three children; and Scott, an American who has worked here for seven years and is now engaged to a German woman. After church, we make the forty-five minute walk home, often accompanied by friends who live in our part of town.

Thus Sunday mornings usually pass in an agreeable fashion. The afternoons, I predict, will present some difficulties, particularly now that winter weather has more or less arrived. The ran has come, and tonight the temperature will dip below freezing. This poses a problem: what to do on the short rainy afternoons and the long cold evenings of our winter Sundays. It isn't simply the winter weather that makes this problem acute; it is, as much as anything, a problem that stems from our small living quarters.

We have a couch where we sit to eat our meals. Soon we will have money for a table, o glorious day. We use the same couch for surfing the net, playing our one board game -- a mildly diverting game of strategy called Blokus -- and for reading. For a a change of scenery, we can go sit on one of the chairs, lay on the bed, or sit in a warm bath.

For those long indoor days, a change of scenery often makes the difference between a pleasant afternoon and the loss of your sanity. If you get bored reading history in the office, you read a novel in the sun room. If you get bored playing Scrabble in the dinning room, you play Go in the living room. Ah, those were the days -- the days when we had a sun room and an office, before our living room, kitchen, and dining room became fused into one unholy amalgam.

Sometimes an illustration is helpful. Here are two pictures form our old apartment. First, imagine me bored in the picture on the left. I'm reading a history book -- maybe something on Andrew Jackson or the House of Morgan. And I'm bored. Sounds like a problem, right? Wrong. I put down my book on Andrew Jackson; I grab a novel, something by Fitzgerald perhaps; and then I go to the sun room, pictured on the left. Problem solved. Or maybe, to put the whole scenario in positive terms, I wake up in the morning and have my coffee in the office, where the morning sun comes streaming in. Then, at the end of the day, I sit in the sun room enjoying the sun set. Yes, those were the days -- windows on both sides of our apartment!

So you can see the problem we are up against. By three-thirty this afternoon, we had eaten lunch, drunk tea, eaten chocolate, taken a nap (me, not Dolores), drunk coffee, played a game of Blokus, checked email, and we were running out of things to do. Dolores broke down first. I'm bored she said. My thoughts exactly. It was like she had read my mind. I wasn't just bored, though. I had that I'm antsy and anxious because I've been inside to long but I don't have the concentration to do anything feeling. At night, I can read or amuse myself indoors for hours, but in the day sometimes it just doesn't work.

Well, just when we thought things couldn't get any worse, a solution came. Two solutions really, one for Dolores and one for me. Stephie called Dolores on Skpye, and they had a lovely conversation complete with web cam. Dolores always finds simple solutions for problems like this. Not me. My solutions are always more complicated.

I had noticed a break in the clouds. The rain had stopped, and so I headed out for the mountaintop. In the states I went to the pool or the gym when I felt restless. So far we don't have the funds for a gym membership, and the pool is only open for free swim on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Plus, its an expensive twenty minute street car ride from here. So instead I find myself heading out three or four times a week for the top of Landgrafen, the mountain closest to our apartment. I walk as fast as I can, and in ten minutes I reach the mountain. After ten more minutes of steep climbing my heart races at a hundred and sixty beats a minute, my lungs burn from the cold air, and the endorphins are cranking through my brain and clearing out all the murky thoughts.

After a series of narrow switchbacks I arrive at a ridge. I can see our street in the distance. I continue along the ridge amidst the brilliant yellow leaves as it slopes up towards the open plains above the city. The plains are rocky with short grass. The harsh wind and landscape always reminds me of King Lear upon on the heath. Today the effect was more dramatic than usual. The mountains had already brought a premature twilight to the valley of Jena. However, when I broke out through the trees I could see the sun unimpeded, shining from the East. From the North there were more storm clouds coming down the valley fast. The first wisps were already flowing around the hills directly across the valley.

There were only a few of us out on the mountain plain -- a few people walking dogs, one man jogging, a couple holding hands. We shared the view and a sense of camaraderie because we few had managed to seize the brief opening in the weather, the forty minutes of sun shine.

As I started down the mountain it started to rain. The sun was gone. I was wet, but I was happy. I was looking forward to the warmth of our apartment.

EuroLife: Day26

We had a wonderful day today. After a morning work session, we set out for a new mountain: Hausberg. (Well, it's new for us. Presumably, it's been there for a while.) As usual, we got to see new parts of the city en route to the trailhead. We crossed the river at a very pretty spot; that's where the first picture was taken.

At first, the hike seemed to be a lot less scenic than our other recent hikes. We walked through neighborhood after neighborhood, climbing, without any sign of a real trail. (The "trails" wander through the city. It's not at all uncommon to be in the middle of a busy intersection and see a trail marker for one of the trails that go through the nearby mountains.).

When we finally did find a trailhead, it was immediately clear that we were wrong. Today's hike was, in my opinion, the prettiest yet. Again, we went from an amazingly colorful area, with tall trees forming a dense cover, to sparse evergreens in a matter of minutes. Again, we had beautiful views of the valleys that surround Jena, and of the city itself. (All of this should explain why I simply HAVE to include so many pictures today :)

It was much colder today than it has been; apparently snow is expected in the mountains that are a bit further from Jena. It was warm enough as long as we were moving, just chillier than on past days.

Now, I have grown accustomed to being rewarded for these long hikes with warm apple strudel. So, we set our sites on a beer garden at the top of Hausberg. We passed one along the way, which added to my motivation. When we finally arrived, we climbed some steps up to an old castle-like building, adjacent to a large tower. There it was...overrun with a wedding party. And a sign saying that they would be closed for a private party beginning in 10 minutes. And we weeped.

Well we didn't really weep, but we did check the trailmap for another little mug-symbol. We found one down in the nearby valley and headed there. Along the way, we wandered through the loveliest little neighborhoods. The architecture seemed much older than most of what I've seen of Jena, and for some reason it reminded me of a small town in Ireland. So here's a picture from there, though it's hard to capture exactly how it felt. You must also imagine the smell of fireplaces going, and the depths of the hills surrounding the area.

Once inside, we ordered hot chocolate for me, a Pilsner for Michael, and a piece of Apfelkuchen, or apple cake, to share. Lucky for us, we had arrived at coffee and cake hour! Yes, every day in Germany, it is a custom to have cake and coffee between lunch and dinner. I had heard about this from a German friend back home, but hadn't really appreciated how wonderful this tradition is. I'm a big fan of having a daily coffee and cake hour :) In fact, I think that it's important that Michael and I incorporate some local customs into our life here. Perhaps we should start there.

EuroLife: Day25

Well there's good news and bad news today. The good news is, Michael does not seem to have a cold. For the record, it was not so much the rain as the recent outing with a sick friend that caused the threatening symptoms...though the rain does make a better story. The bad news is, we think the elephants have moved in upstairs and are now here to stay. The semester starts this week, which could explain why there's rarely been anyone up there since we moved in. Here's hoping that the "football" matches are few and far between :)

The music scene in Jena: Yes, I suppose we have not mentioned that. I can't speak for Berlin, but Jena is all about death metal and punk rock. (Picture posters and T-shirts with angry English phrases like: "born in misery" and "Agnostics: Love to be Hated" and others, which will not be repeated here.) I would guess that the average person in Jena has at least one facial piercing. This is not because most of them have one piercing, but rather because many of them have a great deal more than one facial piercing. So, I'm not sure how a singer/songwriter will fare in the local music clubs. Still, there seem to be a number of places in the region--and some in Jena--that do have performances by songwriters. I think they're concert halls rather than clubs, but frankly I'd prefer that. It's just a matter of figuring out how to get gigs at those places.

Two striking things about the pierced (read: pierce-ed) people of Jena: they have many many babies. Babies everywhere, more than anywhere I've ever lived. (This has been confirmed by numerous people, German and otherwise.) Also, they are astonishingly obedient when it comes to traffic signals. It doesn't matter if the street light has turned red, such that the cars may no longer drive. Until the little green man appears, not a soul steps off the curb. (Can souls step off the curb? Perhaps this should go into the dissertation...) I mean it--my friend was astonished when I made a play for the street in one such situation. She put her arm out and said "It hasn't turned!". Before she'd finished the sentence, it HAD turned and everyone leaped off the sidewalk. This is very difficult behavior for a New Yorker to tolerate, much less comply with.

It's particularly funny to see a group of mohawked, pierced teenage boys stop at the light when there are no cars as far as the eye can see, and simply wait politely for the little green man.

The two pictures today have nothing to do with anything I've said so far. Sorry about that. We haven't taken any new pictures for a while--except for the ones we took today which Michael will post tomorrow...a little teaser for you. Both of today's pictures come from the mountain closest to us, Landgrafen. If you look closely you can see just how different the terrain is. We had been walking among giant Oak, Maple and Birch trees; we turned onto a new path and it was all evergreens. It's really so beautiful up there.

EuroLife: Day 25

The weather today alternated almost every hour between dark clouds with rain and and a clean blue sky. Dolores said it reminder her of Ireland. I was rained on twice, and now I'm fighting a cold.

Our upstairs neighbor is almost never home. About twice a week though, he invites a couple of his buddies over. They stomp around like elephants, drink beer, and watch football. They're currently singing some cheer/song.

I thought I would post a few more pictures of the library today. For the most part I hate modern architecture. It seems to be responsible for so much of the ugliness in the world. The library, however, is a wonderful exception, all glass and concrete, and absolutely beautiful. In addition to the walls, many of the ceilings are also made of glass, as you can see here.

I'll end with a short story about German bureaucrats. For the most part, they have been far more pleasant and helpful than I would have expected. We have not yet run into any horrors to compare with the DMV back home. A few weeks ago, when we went to get our visas, the woman who helped us chatted with us for some time about her daughter who was living in Brooklyn. Getting our health insurance was another good experience. It took less than five minutes. Moreover, our lovely health insurance provider will even pay 10% of any aroma therapy we might need...but I digress. A few days ago I finally met a German bureaucrat straight out of Kafka. It had to happen sometime. I mean Kafka's material had to come from somewhere.

I was trying to get a tax card, a little index card size paper on which my employers will record the amount of taxes withheld from each pay check. (At this point it might also be worth noting that the library, despite its ultra-modern look, still has a card catalog.) When I told the woman my name and the reason for my visit, she asked me why I hadn't picked up my tax card last time I was there. I told here that I had never been there before.

You have been here before, she told me. Maybe she thought I hadn't understood her German the first time.

I stated my innocence a second time: I've never been here, I said.

Look, she responded, here is your signature on this paper in our computer. (There singing again upstairs, and I swear they are dancing in circles.) She showed me the screen, which did in fact display a copy of a paper with my signature.

I explained that I had filled out that paper in another office on the other side of town, but she would have none of that. No, I've really never been here, I said a third time.

We have your signature in our computer, she said again. You have been here. Finally, so we could move on -- the issue of whether or not I had been there before actually being irrelevant for the business at hand -- I said: maybe. It's possible.

She looked at me in disgust. So young and already losing your memory, she said to me.

EuroLife: Day24

I believe that Michael recently regaled you all with the ugly details of Jena weather. Well, since then, it has been absolutely beautiful here in Jena. Sunny, warm, and lovely. Michael's feeling a bit bad about the post, so I thought I'd set the record straight. 3 days in a row of sunshine! We are most happy about this turn of events. In honor of Jena's recent good behavior, I'm including another photo from one of our recent hikes.


We turn the discussion, today, from beer to Handel's Messiah. (I leave it to you to decide which is the better half of this relationship :) Last night, I had my second rehearsal with the Jena Philharmonic Choir. Last week, when I first arrived at the rehearsal, it suddenly occurred to me that the whole thing would be conducted in German. Yes, I should have thought of this earlier, but I tell you over and over again I find myself momentarily surprised by the fact that absolutely everything here is done in German. Surely I will get better about this.

I managed to navigate the rehearsal last week, with the help of my wonderful new American friend Laura, and this week I even tried to have a conversation with the woman next to me in German. We did alright, but I'm sure it wasn't pretty. Now, in contrast to this, we are actually singing the Messiah in English. This means that I spend most of the rehearsal struggling to understand the basics of what the conductor is (at a truly staggering speed) shouting at us, and the rest of it practicing my pronunciation of English words. For example, "His YOKE is easy and His BURDEN is light." (For all our practicing, someone inevitably sings--with great conviction--that his Joke is easy.) Last night, one of these little sessions was actually a bit difficult for me. The conductor prefers British pronunciations, so I spent quite a while practicing, with the others, my British pronunciation of "upon". It's harder than it sounds!

By far the best of these moments came when we were working on "worthy is the lamb." We had been singing a very fast, very difficult part ,"to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength..." when a woman raised her hand. She asked if we could practice pronouncing "strange." (At least, she asked something like this...again, she insisted upon speaking German.) The director replied "Strange...strange...No no! Not 'strange', but 'strength!'"

The conductors pronunciation of "strength" sounded like "strinnnggthe". This is a difficult word for Germans, as is squirrel. (The latter we have heard about from more than one German friend.) I spend most of my times sounding pretty silly, so it's nice to occasionally be able to say a word without any difficulty at all while others grapple with the pronunciation. I am learning not to take this for granted!

All in all we are really having a fantastic week. The people of Jena are so friendly (despite my jokes), and the city is beautiful.

I leave you today with two photos, particularly amusing when seen side by side. It seems that there are areas where you are not permitted to let your child play in traffic and, more surprisingly, areas where you ARE permitted to let your child play in traffic. Odd.

EuroLife: Day23

A Rose by Any Other Name

This bottle bears the words "Original" and "Budweiser," but is it the original Budweiser? Is it even claiming to be the original Budweiser, or is it just proclaiming its name and making a distinct claim about its originality? I'd heard rumors about another Budweiser, the "original" Budweiser as it is sometimes called, so naturally when I found it in our local supermarket, I was curious.

First things first -- this beer is almost as bad as its American counterpart. It actually seems to have that same cheap beer flavor. So as far as the taste, I have nothing more to report. The controversy about the name, however, that's a far more interesting story.

In one sense, our own home grown Anheuser-Busch Budweiser is the original. The company started using the name "Budweiser" in 1876, and it trademarked the name two years latter. Budejovicky Budvar, the company that makes the Czech Budweiser, didn't start making beer until 1895.

The story gets a little more complicated, however. The term "Budweiser" is an adjective to describe things or people from Budweis, the former name of the town where the Czech Budweiser is now made. Before either Anheuser-Busch or Budejovicky Budvar began selling Budweiser, many other beers bore that name, sometimes as a designation of their origin, other times as a reference to particular brewing methods associated with the town of Budweis. In fact, well into the twentieth century, many American breweries offered a "Budweiser" variety, in the same way that breweries today offer Pilsners (from the brewing methods that originated in Pilzen) and Kolschs (from the brewing method that originated in Cologne). So from the standpoint of the Czech Budweiser, the American Budweiser committed a category mistake by taking a generic kind term and turning it into a proper name.

Americans and Europeans disagree on this subject. American courts have awarded the name to Anheuser-Bush, and thus in the United States the Czech beer goes by the name of "Czechvar." The European Union, on the other hand, holds that "Budweiser" is a protected regional designation like "Champagne," "Parmesan," "Feta," and "Kolsch." Yes, in Europe cheese can only be called Feta if it comes from Greece, and beer can only be called Kolsch if it comes from Cologne. We Americans don't observe these rules. In some cases, the Europeans don't either. For instance, any beer can be a Pilsner, regardless of where it comes from.

Since Anheuser-Busch's beer doesn't come from Budvar (or Budweis), it can't go by the name of Budweiser. In France it simply goes by the name of "Bud." Short. Elegant. I don't know what it is called in Ireland, but apparently its one of the best selling lagers their. Maybe it tastes better there, since it's brewed (and marketed) by Guinness.

Until sometime in the 1970s, Budweiser wasn't allowed in Germany. That's right. Budweiser failed to meet the Reinheitsgebot, the German law requiring the beer only have four ingredients -- water, barely, hops, and yeast. The American Budweiser includes rice. Oh, the horror. Once allowed in Germany, the beer went by the rather unwieldy name "Anheuser-Busch Bud."

Relations between Budweiser and Germany became even better when Budweiser payed 40 million dollars for the right to be the exclusive beer of the 2008 World Cup. This meant that only Budweiser could be served and advertised in the soccer stadiums. In defense of Budweiser, they didn't know the World Cup would be held in Germany when they bought the rights.

The Germans were displeased, to put it mildly. One politician said, "We have a duty to public welfare and must not poison visitors to World Cup venues." A now defunct website, "www.budout.de" showed an American Eagle puking beer. Perhaps most amusingly, a German court ruled that "Anheuser-Busch Bud," or just "Bud" for short, sounded too much like "Bit," the nickname for the German beer Bitburger. They ruled that Bud needed to change its name again to avoid copyright infringement. Yes, copyright infringement, because the shortened form of the name sounded too much like the nickname of another beer, because Bud sounded too much like Bit. As a compromise, Bud was allowed to keep its name, but Bit was allowed to sell its beer in the soccer stadium, though only in unmarked cups.

For those of you who don't yet have vacation plans for the summer of 2010, the World Cup is in South Africa, and once again Budweiser will be its official beer.

EuroLife: Day22 -- Post Script

Nota Bene: Well that's Latin, not Italian, but if you pronounce the "e" as a long "a" and emphasize it, the phrase sounds Italian. I wanted to make clear that it was our new German friend, and not we, prisoners to our "false American politeness," who was speaking ill of Italian Catholicism. With our strong sense of political correctness, we would never make generalizations about all Italians. More importantly, and seriously, though, after many years at Notre Dame, we have a great deal of respect for Catholics, Italian or otherwise.

EuroLife: Day22

This is mount Jenzig, the tallest of the mountains around Jena. Perhaps its not the most impressive mountain you have ever seen, but we are proud of it.

In twenty minutes of brisk walking we can reach the spot where this picture was taken, the foot of mount Jenzig. We set up our camp on this spot, where we spent a number of restless days acclimating ourselves to the altitude. We had been warned that the hight at the summit of mount Jenzig, along with the various beers on tap there, have made many an unexperienced hiker dizzy and lightheaded. In addition to training rigorously at high altitudes, eating a hearty apple strudel before your beer also helps to stave of the dreaded dizziness. On this matter we speak from experience.

Perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit, but it was a slow day at the library, and I've nothing to do but relive our adventures from this weekend in an ever more grandiose fashion. Maybe someday I'll tell you about how Dolores fought a raging mad Snow Owl with her bare hands. Well, she did have a glove on.

Actually, Dolores and I were both exhausted today from the busy weekend. We have a small apartment and no TV, so we spent the weekend out and about. Afterwards, we both agreed that we needed a weekend to rest up from our weekend.

The spot where we took the picture of Jenzig is less than a mile from down town. Jena lies at the intersection of two valleys. As a result, the city is long and narrow. In the second picture you can see the smaller of the two valleys. A lovely stream flows out of this valley and into the Saal river, which runs north and south through the larger of the two valleys. This picture also shows the rocky, sedimentary soil here in Jena.

Now that I think of it, there are two little anecdotes from the day that our worth repeating. Our friend Maria, who lives in our building, came by this afternoon for a short visit. Having the chance to talk to two Americans -- and, at that, two Americans who go to church -- she was curious to ask us two questions. First, did we have sex before we got married? Second, is it true that we (Americans) don't see our parents naked? After answering these questions, we went on to talk about the difference between God and fate, the "hypocritical" Catholicism of the Italians, and the "false politeness" of the Americans. It was all quite entertaining.

Please comment. Please! Please?

EuroLife: Day 21

We've had a busy, but fantastic, weekend. Michael and I spent yesterday hiking Jenzig, the highest of the local mountains, and today we went to Zwiebelmarkt. What is Zwiebelmarkt, you ask? Why, an Onion Festival of course. We went with about a dozen people that we met through our church. (They are featured in the first of today's pictures.) We really had a great time; picture some combination of a Renaissance Fair, a music festival with everything from American Blues to some dramatic German musical theatre, and--well--a celebration of onions. Zwiebelmarkt was in Weimar, and it was our first time seeing the city. It will be a must-see for visitors, it's really very beautiful. (Alas, Zwiebelmarkt comes but once a year.)

One particularly exciting moment for me is captured by the next photo. I am about half-way through Harry Potter und der Stein der Weisen, so my mind is once again immersed in Harry's magical world. Imagine my surprise, then, to see Hedwig sitting on the arm of a man at Zwiebelmarkt! I have never before seen a snow owl, and I could not believe how beautiful it was. Its eyes were unreal: enormous, bright yellow glassy eyes. We had some serious eye contact and, I have to tell you, I think that I would lose a staring contest with this guy. In any case, while I was looking at the owl, the handler said "Ein Harry Potter Eule, ja?" I felt pretty busted.

Something else changed today, as well. Up until today I have been in a bit of a bind. I am, by nature, a chatty person. It has been very difficult for me, when faced with friendly German folk, to simply stand, smile, nod, and direct all real conversation towards Michael. Well, today I just threw myself into it. I think it's because the people we were with were so friendly, and because they spoke some English with me as well. In any case, I had a lot of fun carrying on conversations in whatever German I could muster. Some of my attempts were, no doubt, more successful than others, but all in all it was a lot of fun. Let's just saw we all laughed a lot. Michael tells me that I will learn the language quickly because I don't take myself too seriously and I'm not afraid to try things out before I'm totally confident. It's a nice way of saying that I'm willing to make a fool of myself :) The only problem is that I sometimes get myself into conversations that I can't finish. I practice the opening sentences in my mind , then I start the conversation and the next thing I know I'm asking "wie, bitte?" over and over again. But it's a start!

I end with two funny, though wholly unrelated, items:

First: I had an absolutely delicious bagel sandwich for lunch today in Jena (also with the church crowd.) I was then told that the bagels are New York bagels. They are made in NY, frozen, and shipped to Germany. The truth is I'm a bit skeptical, but it would be funny if I were eating NY bagels in Jena!

Second: There is a truly terrible German pop star named Jimi Blue, and his top single is in English--very bad English. He's about 16, he sings and raps and mugs for the camera, much like the 16 year old pop stars in America. In any case, you really should watch the video on YouTube. The song is called "I'm Lovin (Little Red Hot Pants)" The link follows:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=oofq51smNHc&mode=related&search=

EuroLife: Day 20

We first arrived in Jena under a clear blue sky, the sun wreaking a welcome havoc on our confused serotonin cycles. Dazed and sweating we ordered cappuccinos in the Jena train station. Most cafes here don't have drip -- i.e. American -- coffee. I sweated a lot that day, dragging three suitcases and wearing my winter coat. (I wore the coat to make a little extra room in the suitcases, an extreme measure I quickly regretted.) Together my suitcases weighed more than a hundred pounds. They stacked and they rolled, so they were manageable on flat surfaces. Loading the suitcases onto crowded trains full of Germans, each of them no doubt assuming that we, being Americans, people of a consumerist culture, had simply over-packed for a vacation; or carrying the suitcases up and down stairs as we rushed to change trains; or loading them on and off elevators; or moving them down the narrow aisle of a train car while other passengers tried to move in the opposite direction; or lifting them over our heads to place them on a flimsy luggage rack, a precarious position from which they were sure to fall on some poor German's head -- well, all these tasks proved somewhat more difficult than simply maneuvering the suitcases along the polished floor of an airport terminal. So I sweated a lot, and not just from the exertion and the heat. I -- or rather we -- felt like a spectacle. We spoke only in whispers, half-consciously fearing the English language would only draw more attention to us. (It does, by the way. People often stare at us when we speak English on the streets.)

But it was sunny that first day. The nineteen days since then have all fallen somewhere along the spectrum between cloudy and partly cloudy, a spectrum that, as we are coming to learn, contains many degrees. It is said that the Eskimos had twenty-one words for snow. It is also said that this wonderfully illustrative factoid about the relation between language and human experience is false, a kind of urban legend of pseudo-anthropology. In either case, I think the German meteorologists should come up with at least twenty different terms to describe the different kinds of cloudy days here. First, there are the cloudy days when the sun breaks through on a rare occasion. Then there are the days when the sun does not apear, but brighter clouds mark its place in the sky. There are also those unfortunate days when twilight lingers from morning to night, and the path of the sun remains a mystery. These aren't the only kind of cloudy days, however. Some days the clouds lay thick and heavy until around five-thirty, when the sun appears for a short time before dropping below the hills. This seems to be a common weather pattern here. Mornings are always cloudy. Sometimes the sun comes out in the evening. There are also days when a low lying fog or haze only partially blocks the sun.

All of this weather would be somewhat unmanageable if weren't for the admirable love of windows so common here in Jena. The University Library, pictured in the first photo, presents an example of this affinity. The library is on our street just a few blocks from our apartment. In the background you can see the clouds. This morning, when the picture was taken, the weather was bright-cloudy. As you can see, the walls of the library are all windows! From dawn till dusk we can study by natural light. In the next picture you can see Dolores studying. The building in the background, which looks like a church, is the main building of the university.

Though it sort of ruins my dour story about the weather in Jena, honesty compels me to mention the splendid weather we had this afternoon. The sun came out, and it stayed out. Only the occasional cloud floated across the sky. Dolores and I seized the opportunity and set out for mount Jenzig. After about a two hour hike, we reached the top where beer, an excellent view, and an even more excellent apple strudel awaited us.

For the sake of full disclosure, Michael, and not Dolores, wrote this entry. I signed in as her.