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.