EuroLife: Day 38

Germany: Where Even the Research Assistants Have Research Assistants

Kafka makes for very boring reading. I can't say I would recommend his books to anyone. And yet, there are some moments in life that almost make Kafka worth reading, moments when life becomes -- well, as they say -- Kafkaesque.

I've started Kafka' novel, The Castle, twice, and I've never finished it. I probably never will. The novel is too long, but the premise is amusing. The protagonist -- lets call him F. Kafka...no...thats too obvious...Franz K...or maybe just K for short -- is a land surveyor who receives a job at a castle in a small town. He gets to the town, but he can't get to the castle. Sometimes mysterious bureaucratic forces hinder his way, though occasionally they aid him. The towns people have strange customs that he doesn't understand. He walks through the deserted, snow covered streets of the town, but somehow he can't get closer to the castle. Sometimes he gets distracted by love or some seemingly meaningless adventure. Its all a lovely metaphor for the human condition. It would be great if it weren't so boring.

So much for setting the stage.

I went to the SFB building to get a new office and a library card. I didn't get a library card, but I did get a paper with a stamp, and if I take this paper to another building (not the library), I'm told I will get one. Then the secretary and I went wandering through the mostly empty building looking for a new office for me. My first office was in the basement. Thankfully, one of the benign bureaucratic forces spoke to a higher power. A decision was made, and I was freed from the basement.

I was supposed to take over the desk of a friend who no longer needs his desk, but we couldn't find his desk in the room it was supposed to be in. So we wandered for a while, and then she decided that I could stay in the room anyway, even though we couldn't find the desk I was supposed to take over. She seemed to indicate that I could take one of the desks, even though it clearly had someone else's stuff on it. I decided instead for a small table in the turret adjoining the room. So now my office is a small 270 degree circular room with windows on all sides.

As I was about to leave the building, the secretary came running down to tell me I had a phone call. I'd only been in the office twice, and now I had a call there. Somewhat perplexed, I follower her back to her office and picked up the phone. It was my research assistant. Yes, I, the research assistant, have a research assistant. She had some papers from Professor Halbig to give me. We planned to meet in the library in fifteen minutes.

At the library, it took me a minute to find her. She had introduced herself before, but I've meet a lot of people in the last month. I stood there and looked like I was waiting form someone until she approached me. She handed me a stack of photocopies. I copied these for you, she said.

The papers seemed to be articles for my research, but the names of the authors weren't on them, and I didn't know which articles they were. Do you know who these were written by, I asked?

No, she said, but I can find out for you.

That's OK, I said. I already knew the articles couldn't be found in the library. They're copies made from copies from an old journal published in the 1790s.

We'll, if you need me to get any books from another library, she said, I can. That's my job. I even make coffee. Sometimes.

So I'm a research assistant, and I have a research assistant. This is fine, but I get the sense I'm letting here down when I don't have work for her.

The pictures, by the way, were taken on our street. The first picture shows an apartment building in the Gothic Revival Style. At least that's what I would call the style. The second picture shows the last green leaves in town. Most of the leaves have fallen already, but for some reason these leaves are still green.