EuroLife: Day 113

Things You Can Learn in Leipzig
(Or online)

• The largest Nineteenth Century European battle took place at Leipzig. In 1813 Napoleon and 190,000 French, Italian, and Polish soldiers faced off against 330,000 Prussians, Russians, Austrians, and Swedes. In a daring move that the Italians would perfect in the 20th century, the Saxons managed to fight on both sides. Seeing which way the wind was blowing, they left the little Emperor in lurch. This "Battle of the Nations," as it is often called, was about three times the size of the Battle of Gettysburg, which involved 94,000 Union soldiers and 72,000 Confederates. However, the largest battle of the century award goes to China for the "Third Battle of Nanking." The third time really is the charm. This battle may have involved more than 1,000,000 people, though everyone was moving around too much so it was hard to count. (This constant motion also spoiled the group picture.)
• Bach, who spent his days knocking around Leipzig (and Weimar) fell into relative obscurity after his death. He was "rediscovered" by Felix Mendelssohn who performed Bach's St. Mathew's Passion in 1829 in Berlin. Hegel, who was in attendance at the concert, later described Bach as a "grand, truly Protestant, robust and, so to speak, erudite genius which we have only recently learned again to appreciate at its full value." How right you are, sir, how right you are.
• The first European to figure out how to make porcelain (not China, thank you) was Johann Bottinger, a famed but failed alchemist. He did it in 1710, in Meissen, a small town near Dresden.
  

EuroLIfe: Day 112

A friend of mine told me recently that when a woman gets pregnant, she begins to "nest." Personally, I'm inclined to think that my newfound desire to knit or crochet has nothing to do with the fact that I'm pregnant, but I guess I'll leave it up to you to judge for yourselves. In any case, I am venturing into the world of needlework...with great trepidation.

Over Christmas vacation, my sister-in-law Rachel very (very) patiently taught me the basics of knitting. The beginning was rough, and the early results looked comical, but I started to get the hang of it. I knitted on the train, on the plane, on the couch--and the result started to look a bit better. Unfortunately, after a while knitting seems to hurt my wrists, and it went incredibly slowly. In the meantime, Emily (my niece) "suggested" that I make her a blanket, and I said that I would make her one for her birthday. Well, that was preposterously optimistic of me. Her birthday is in February and I'd be lucky if I could knit her a potholder by then, let alone a blanket. Enter crocheting. From what I hear, it is easier on the hands (for those of us prone to wrist & hand pain), and a whole lot faster (for those of us prone to impatience.)

So, I bought a book. I'm a bit embarrassed by the particular book I got, but I had heard and read such great things about it...especially that it was clear enough to teach a person with zero experience. (In fact, the rare criticism on Amazon.com was that most of the patterns could be done by a beginner.) So, I bought it. Now, I warn you, the title of the book is rated PG, but here goes. I bought "Stitch & Bitch, the Happy Hooker."

It's a good think I worked in the library this morning, because once I got my needles and yarn today--quite the ordeal auf Deutsch--there was no turning back to philosophy. (For the afternoon, that is; I'm not proposing a career shift.)

Now, about the yarn...it is not cheap, and I am a beginner, so I went for the sale rack. Here's what I found:
An enormous, very pink wad of yarn. It's about the size of a cat, and it is really very pink. (I went with this color for Emily's blanket--which, as commissioned, is supposed to be "pink with some purple." If we have a girl, this will be fortuitous. If we have a boy, not so much.)

So there I sat, for four hours, trying to figure out this crocheting business. It was not exactly the relaxing and rewarding experience (culminating in a little collection of "granny squares") that I'd hoped for. I do think I finally got a few basic stitches down, but here's what I have to show for it:
The circle is about 2 1/2 inches across, and it was a beast I tell you. A beast. A blanket by the end of February is going to be a bit of a stretch.

Now here's the real problem: I am getting very excited about the prospects of crocheting. My book has patterns for cute purses, pink bunny slippers (after all, I have to use up this pink yarn), and all manner of fun accessories. It also has "testimonials" from the designers. I have already spoken to Michael about this, and I have his full support, but I am going to have to ask you all as well to hold me accountable here: I am not to become the kind of person who crochets doilies for the headrests of her car. I am not to make sweaters for dogs, or to make toaster covers for my siblings or friends. I am not, and this I have been told explicitly, to make bunny slippers for Michael. The more "testimonials" I read, the more real this danger seems.

So, I am happily working on becoming a crocheter, but I need my friends and family to keep me from becoming "that lady"...Don't get me wrong, I would love to be the woman in church who makes blankets for the new babies. I just don't want to be the woman who makes crocheted iPod cases (I swear, it's in the book) for begrudgingly polite teenagers. I thank you all in advance for your help in this matter.

EuroLIfe: Day 110

Look closely at the bike in the picture....no, no, not at the copyright watermark hovering over the picture, but at the bike itself--or should I say, the Like-A-Bike? No pedals; none whatsoever. These things are awesome, and we see them all over the city, every day. They are little pedal-less bikes for toddlers, and you should see how the little guys zip around on them.

So here's an excellent story from today. Michael and I were walking to "Bagels and Beans"--a coffee shop in town--when we saw a tiny little terror tearing towards us on his Like A Bike. On his face was a look of unbridled determination; he was, without question, not yet two years old. Behind him ran his mother, a look of anxiety and frustration on her face as she did her very best to catch up with him. She was yelling for him to wait for her but, as I said, his determination was unbridled and he paid her no heed.

Now, this was definitely the youngest Like-a-Bike rider I've seen yet, and also the most fearless. (He was propelling himself madly downhill, though not a steep hill, and it had only recently stopped raining.) Still, I am convinced that this explains why German children seem to ride bicycles at a much younger age than American children. I have no source to back up this claim, and maybe it's not true, but we see children who seem to be very adept bicycle riders by the age of 4 or 5. We see as many or more children zipping around on Like A Bikes at the age of 2 or 3. Coincidence? I think not. (Want to find out more? Read the book. Does anyone else remember that commercial?)

The mom did eventually catch up with the boy and, from what I could tell, give him a stern talking-to. Anyway, despite this one reckless little fellow, I heartily endorse this Like-a-Bike phenomenon. And, and now this is where it gets good, they are apparently available in the States! (John & Moira, if you're reading this, I think if Eamon and Reed every time I see one of these things.) There is a Like A Bike USA website in case anyone is interested: (www.likeabikeusa.com)

I'm telling you, these things are very cool.

EuroLife: Day 109

Apartments and Trains

Before coming here, Dolores and I heard a lot about the great housing market in cities of former East Germany, a great market, that is, for buyers and renters. However, the housing market in Jena proved to be tight and expensive -- not like New York City, London, or Munich of course, but not like South Bend either.

I recently read that only 1% of the dwellings in Lobeda, the largest suburb of Jena, are unoccupied. The Mayor of Lobeda cited this as a positive sign of the suburbs popularity. To me it sounded like a problem, like a housing shortage to be more specific. I've been told that an unemployment figure under 4 percent (or some similar number) is actually bad for the economy. In a healthy, dynamic economy jobs are being created and destroyed as successful companies grow and unsuccessful ones go the way of the dinosaurs. In order for this process to work, you need a certain number of people between jobs. By the same logic, one might argue that in healthy housing market about 3 to 4 percent of the properties should be unoccupied, or rather between occupants.

Our experience certainly confirms that such a problem exists. One apartment we looked at had six interested renters on the day it was listed, a full week before the previous tenets vacated it. Our current apartment never even made it onto the market.

The tight market seems to stem from the growth of the university and other research institutions.

In Leipzig, however, we found the housing market we'd heard so much about. In the historic center of Leipzig we saw the following apartments for rent. They are fifty percent larger than our apartment and about the same price. And look at that glorious built in kitchen! Look at those lovely windows! You can tell how big they are by noticing how close to the floor they come.

Here's a picture of the apartment building from the outside. Apparently its just been renovated, thought it clearly predates the war.

Dolores and I talked about moving to Leipzig. Its only an hour commute by train, and I would only have to go into Jena once or twice a week. Of course we won't. Perhaps we should try Weimar. Its only fifteen minutes by train, and I've hear that the housing market is also better there.



About the trains: they have gone up in price. When I was here ten years ago, for 27 Deutschmarks you could get a ticket that allowed you and your four best friends to travel anywhere in Germany for an entire weekend. The only catch is that you had to take the slow trains. In those days, with the exchange rate at something like 1.67 Deutschmarks to the Dollar, the ticket cost only $16.

They still offer the same ticket. Dolores and I used it to travel to Leipzig and back. Now, however, the ticket costs 35 Euros, and its only good for Saturday or Sunday. So if I wanted to travel on both days, as I could with the old ticket, I would have to pay 70 Euros or $103. Thats a 630% increase in price, at least in dollars.

EuroLIfe: Day 108

Forget what you know about perspective,
this ice cream's as big as her head

There are many things about us (Americans) that scandalize the Germans. And let's face it, we are a scandalous and all too often scandal laden folk. For instance, there's is our nasty habit of carrying guns to social functions -- to weddings, Bar Mitzvahs and PTA meetings. You never know when you'll run into one of them Hatfields, I always tell em. This nasty habit allegedly explains one central differences between American and European table manners. Europeans rest their hands on the dinner table in plain view. We Americans, shady folk that we are, often put our hands under the table, which first of all is just rude, and second of all you never know who has a gun under there. But I digress.

The Germans are also scandalized by the size of things in America, the size of our cars and, for some reason, the size of our drinks. I've heard numerous comments on the size of Starbuck's coffee. Now as someone who enjoys all twenty ounces of his large Starbuck's coffee, I don't quite know what to say to this. Then, to move on to the genuinely depraved, there is the size our fountain drinks. Is it true, a friend of mine once asked, that you can get a liter of coke? I had to confess, but I didn't mention that the the 32 ounce fountain drink has long been eclipsed by the 48 once Monster, and at only ten cents more than the measly little 32 once cup, who can blame me for buying it, even if I have never finished one in my life, and even if I have to stop ten minutes later to use the free -- yes gloriously free but often sordidly filthy -- bathroom. I did, however, mention to this same friend that I've been known to drink two or three liters of ice tea during one meal.

All of this got me to thinking. Surely there must be some food related items in Germany that are bigger than their American counterparts. Of course there is the beer. Their half liter bottles make our 12 ounce bottles look miniature, and the Liter steins of Bavaria are a sight to behold. Then, as we have discovered, there are the ice cream sundaes. As a benefit, they are often served by genuine Italians. Multo Bene. Yes, with its Irish Pub and its Italian Gellaterias, our little Jena is a veritable European melting pot.

So, in all of its glory, I present to you a genuine German/Italian Ice cream sundae.

EuroLife: Day 106

And now for another post about Leipzig! This one should, if I can manage it, be brief. As I said a few days ago, Michael and I went for coffee in one of the oldest coffee houses in Europe. Well, depending on who you believe, it is first or second oldest continuously running coffee house in the world! They first served coffee in 1694, though the building itself is much older than that. It's a beautiful building, actually. (You can see a nice picture of it at http://www.coffebaum.de/)

There are three separate floors, each with a distinct atmosphere, and a coffee museum as well. The museum seemed to be very interesting--they had a number if very cool artifacts--but as it was written entirely in German, I had some trouble following the exhibits. (It's one thing to read Harry Potter und der Gefangene von Askaban, and another entirely to read pages of history on coffee.)

We sat on the third floor, which is a lovely cafe. (There is a complete restaurant on a lower floor as well.) Michael had a Turkish coffee, I had a delicious Hot Chocolate and, of course, we shared a pastry. My hot chocolate was very interesting, actually. It tasted as if it was not at all sweetened, but it was delicious. Surely it must have been sweetened some; pure, unsweetened chocolate is not at all delicious. Still, it was the least sweet hot chocolate I've ever had and it still managed to be absolutely delicious. (Michael actually said "If hot chocolate always tasted like this, I'd drink it all the time.")

Despite how delicious the hot chocolate was, I was a bit sad to be in a historic, wonderful coffee shop and to hate coffee. When Michael's Turkish Coffee came out, I had the fleeting thought "Ooh, maybe I'll just have a sip!" (I have only had Turkish Coffee once, but I loved it.) Then, the waitress passed it to him under my nose, and that thought went out the window. It's so strange to hate even the smell of something that I've loved for so long.

Michael tells me that it was an excellent coffee. If you've never had Turkish Coffee before, it's quite unlike American drip coffee. It's very strong, served in an espresso cup, and the grounds remain in the coffee. They sit nicely at the bottom of your glass, provided you are careful not to tip the thing to severely. When Michael was finished, he started playing with the coffee grounds and was really very impressed with what they looked like. (Thick, black mud to be perfectly honest.) We had to share!

One more thing: If you look at the windows in the picture of Michael, you get a sense of how old this building is. The glass was so warped, the view of the outside was tremendously distorted. I love old glass.

EuroLife: Day 106

We have a washing machine! Of our very own! Yes, that's right, it's the coveted Beko WMD 26120 M. And, as I said, it is our very own.

This really is a big deal, actually. We had been spending a preposterous amount of time and money at the local laundromat. (Well, laundromat and internet cafe.) I think it's probably overpriced, and that there's a cheaper one somewhere downtown, but it's right around the corner. The thought of lugging our laundry all the way downtown--on foot--always seemed to tip the scales in favor of the pricey but close one. So, no more of that!

We don't have a dryer, but we do have a new, nifty drying rack. We also, as a result of all of this, have a rather more crowded bathroom. Still, I am very excited about this new purchase.

I was also very excited in the grocery store yesterday to see the familiar, fuzzy face of the Snuggles bear. They, too, have "Snuggle-soft" fabric softener! However, the German version of the Snuggles bear is, I fear, vastly cooler than our own little American bear. He can be seen to my left driving a Trabby. On other bottles, he was surfing and performing all manner of trend-setting activities. From what I recall, our American version sits on a pile of laundry...maybe more to the point, but hardly as impressive.

On a totally unrelated note, I have started to be able to feel the baby move! I have no picture to correlate with this news, but it's exciting news nonetheless. I first thought I felt movement about a week ago, which is really very early, but by this week I'm pretty certain. This morning, while I was studying in the library, I got a very clear kick out of nowhere; I almost laughed out loud. Usually the movements are pretty gentle and ambiguous, but this was a clear pop to the gut. It's really an incredible feeling, and I can't wait until the baby gets a bit bigger and stronger so that Michael can feel some kicks as well.

EuroLife: Day 105

The Mystery of the Blue Pipes

There are strange blue pipes all over Leipzig. At first I attributed their presence to some form of construction work. But then I realized that these pipes looked pretty permanent. They weren't waiting around to be buried. I started to fear the work of Christo. It was scary to think these pipes might be art, but then again exposed pipes often give lofts a certain charm. Maybe, I thought, someone decided to apply the same principle to an entire city.

I mean what better way is there to say "we are not stuck in the past," then by cluttering up views of prewar architecture with modern, functional, blue water pipes. Take that Leibniz and Bach.

I do, however, have a second, perhaps more plausible hypothesis about these blue pipes. Apparently, they are building a large tunnel under the city to ease traffic. So it seems possible that they put the pipes above ground during this time to avoid having them ruptured in the construction process.

After finding this out, I thought I had solved the mystery. Now I'm not so sure. The placement of the pipes seems too random. Also, there does not seem to be as many pipes as this hypothesis would lead one to expect. And surely these aren't sewer pipes. They are too small. But if the pipes for fresh water had to be put above ground to protect them, wouldn't the same follow for the sewer pipes. Its all very mysterious.

Any arguments and/or facts leading to the solution of this mystery are welcome.

EuroLife: Day 104

In Leipzig we visited the Stasi museum. "Stasi" stands for Staatssicherheit, for state security. The Stasi was, as this mural designed for the entryway of the Leipzig office proclaims, the Ministry for State Security.

My response to this museum would have confirmed the worst suspicions of the idealistic Stasi agent, of whom, I have to imagine, there were at least a few. Our western media and consumer culture have produced people incapable of genuine social engagement, people who relate to the world and history through a veil of irony, people who evade responsibility and action through the allegedly open-minded multiplication of interpretations and perspectives, people who deploy humor as a means of detachment, people who are only capable of collective expression regarding matters of kitsch. Or so I imagine the accusations of my communist counterpart. If I had to make his ideology and his actions plausible, if I had to understand his point of view, if I had to state his case, I would do it in such terms.

At least with regards to me, one product of the enemy culture, his criticisms might be just, even if his his responses were wrong. For, as I can only admit with a genuine degree of shame, the pseudo-virtues of irony, kitsch, and open-mindedness were in ample display as I walked through that museum.

Regarding kitsch I am completely guilty. I've long been fascinated by communist paraphernalia. About ten years ago I visited the museum of arts in Budapest. Our Hungarian friends wanted to take us to the French wing to show us works by Picasso and the Impressionist, works of which they seemed quite proud, as though they demonstrated the fully cosmopolitan status of Budapest. We, however, insisted upon spending the day looking at truly bad works of Soviet realism. It was great. And then there's my Soviet pocket watch, a true treasure. And my fascination with the Trabi, clearly the result of Western advertising (see Levi's ad, Day 33) and the Western fascination with kitsch (see U2 video, also Day 33). In a similar spirit I found myself drawn to the murals, like the one above.

Apparently I am not alone in this strange communism as kitsch fascination. One of the exhibits in the museum focused on the largely positive portrayal the DDR era has received in the German media recently. Among other things, they mentioned the nostalgia/kitsch revival of the Trabi.

Humor and/or irony also played a large part in my experience of the museum. This was surely not intended by those who run the museum, and yet it was almost unavoidable. I offer exhibit A:

This poster talks about various tactics used by the enemy. The blue square in the middle warns of "ideological influences." To the left there is a poster of Iron Maiden, and to the right there are various other symbols of 80s culture at its zenith, including a poster of Abba. The inclusion of Abba is all the more strange, given a later exhibit which shows a sports propaganda film (strange in and of itself) set to a muzak version of an Abba song.

The spy equipment was surely intended to give a sinister impression, but the effect was comic in the same way that the "high tech" gadgets from old James Bond films are. Old TVs, old phones, old computers, old video games -- these things are funny, ironic, strange, fascinating. They are not sinister. Old technology is like a comedic figure from Shakespeare, like a Falstaff who claims to be brave and so clearly isn't. And Falstaff is funny. Truly memorable.

Then there is the open-mindedness thing. I will not say much on this count, but I will report my reaction to something I learned a month ago. After reunification, most of the liberal arts faculties in the East were simply dismissed as tainted. They were allowed to reapply, though if many did, few were successful in getting their old jobs back. I am told -- and my experience confirms this -- that there almost no former East Germans on the liberal arts faculty in Jena. This surprised me, and it surprised me how much it surprised me. Moreover, it seemed to indicate a difference between German culture and, at least, American academic culture.

EuroLife: Day 103

This is just one of the many, many beautiful buildings we saw in Leipzig today. We set out early this morning, (well--early for us) and were able to see quite a lot of the city. There is much to write about, but most of that will have to wait until tomorrow. (Now we are both quite sleepy!) In fact, it seems that most of the things we saw and did today deserve their own posts, so you may very well be in for a week of all Leipzig-all the time. We saw the Stasi museum, built in the old Stasi headquarters, and two churches where Bach served as cantor. We had coffee in one of the oldest coffee houses in Europe. It dates back to 1694! (Full disclosure: I had hot chocolate. I can't even stand the smell of coffee these days. It's a little sad, but at least I have a good excuse for drinking hot chocolate.) We saw one truly unimpressive museum--and it was the only one we paid to enter. It was not mentioned in our guide book, and I suppose we should have thought a bit about why that might be. There were some photographs of Leipzig in the basement, and a collection of carnival paraphernalia on the first floor. In contrast to the incredible, free museums scattered around Leipzig, it's no wonder nobody bothered to mention this one.

I managed to find my way to Lush :)

Now for the sad part of the story. (Don't worry, it gets funny--if a bit gross--in the end. Actually, if you don't like gross things, you may want to skip the rest of this post!) Michael and I were reading on the train home and, though Michael reads on trains all the time, this time it did not agree with him; or with the curry dinner he had only recently consumed. We made it home, but he was pretty sick. He began to clean the toilet with some bathroom cleaner we have when he noticed--for the first time--something funny on the bottle:
Oh yes. He was cleaning the bathroom with Barfin brand bathroom cleaner. I tell you, you can't make this stuff up.

I apologize for the somewhat coarse nature of today's blog, but Michael really thought this deserved a post and, truth be told, I kind of agreed with him.

Now I'm off to bed. It seems I am utterly incapable of "just writing a few lines" on this blog, despite my best plans. More on Leipzig to come!

EuroLife: Day 102

I was going to spend today's post telling you all about the wonderful cruise through the Greek Isles that Michael and I were going to go on this Spring. Alas, after much deliberation, I don't think it's going to happen. For those of you who remember my raving about Easy Cruise, I do still think that it's an incredible deal--but it turns out it's a much better deal earlier in the season. The early cruises must have filled up, because they have disappeared from the website, and now the airfare to Athens is much (much) more expensive. We were still thinking of going anyway, but then we realized that (a) Michael would have to miss one of the classes he will be teaching and (b) Michael has to defend his dissertation this spring. The date for that is really mostly up to his committee, and the defense will of course require his going to the US. So, no Easy Cruise for us. It's hard to complain, though. I think we will instead be going to the Alps, or maybe Barcelona. We could both fly from nearby Leibzig to Barcelona for a total of 76 Euros, and March is still the off-season so accommodations are affordable as well.

So: The next time I complain about the difficulties of living in Germany (which I may have done once or twice over Christmas break), please remind me that I should stop. Micheal and I never spent our evenings in South Bend wondering if we should go on a cruise in the Greek Isles, go to Barcelona, or simply take a jaunt over to the Alps. This is the kind of thing that should be appreciated!

One final thing to share. We usually write about our lives here in Germany, but I suppose there's nothing wrong with occasionally referring to our lives (and family) back in the States :) The highlight of my day today came from a phone conversation that I had with my sister and her two children. I was talking with Moira--which is very fun, especially because we are both pregnant and only about 4 weeks apart--when she asked if I would say hello to the kids. I speak with Emily on the phone quite often. She is almost five, and it's crazy to me how grown-up she can sound on the phone these days. (Sample from today: "You know, Dolores, maybe the next time I see you I can show you my new doll clothes. Then you could see what they look like!")


Reed and I speak on the phone less often. He is not quite 2 1/2, and is in general less interested in the phone than Em. Well, today he was interested. Our first conversation went something like this:







Reed (in a high-pitched "phone voice", quite unlike his normal voice): "hi!"
Me: "hi!"
Reed: "hi!...hi hi hi! goodBYE!!"

Moira and I laughed and thought that was it. But no, Reed insisted (loudly) that it was still his turn to talk on the phone with me. Moira gave him the phone back, and the previous conversation was repeated. We again thought he was done, he again protested loudly. Moira gave him the phone once more, explaining that this was it. Now Reed had it figured out--he had to do a better job of filling the time. Here's what followed:

Reed (in same phone-voice): "Hi!"
Me (trying to help here): "Hi, did you like sledding yesterday?"
Reed: "Yes, fun. Fast...Daddy pulled fast. I like sledding. I like toys...I like big toys...and...mommy...and...daddy...and...Emmy...and...babies. I like babies...

The list was much longer, though I only understood some of it. He went on forever listing things that he likes. I could not stop laughing. Eventually Moira got the phone back, though Reed was still convinced it was his turn. Em got the phone and took it into a quieter room. (Which is to say: a room that did not have Reed in it.)

I realize that little kid stories are not always as funny to those who don't know the featured child, but it really was the highlight of my day.

As you might expect, the photos above are of Emily (with my mom) and Reed (being goofy).

EuroLife: Day 102

Well, I finally joined a gym here in Jena. Its only three blocks from our apartment and right next to the library, so its convenient. The gym is called "Mammut," which as you might guess, means "mammoth." Its owned by a man who looks like a woolly mammoth, or an ape. He works there and he also works out there. He is quite intimidating. I wanted to include a picture of him from the gym website, but I decided the picture was a little too creepy. Curious? Then go to:

http://www.dasmammut.de/home.html

To the left you can see one of the pictures from the website. This is a picture of the protein shake bar. It gives you a sense of the Tarzan-like decor that predominates.


Just to give you a sense of the place, in the locker that I use there is a sticker that says, in English, "Keep Hell beautiful, get a tattoo." I'm not sure I understand it, but there are a lot of tattooed guys that work out there.

There is some cardio equipment. There are some, as Andrew once said, "girl's ellipticals." There is a TV in front of the cardio equipment. (Each machine doesn't have its own TV, as at the AAC). This TV plays MTV Germany, a television station that shows (1) American reality shows with subtitles, (2) American reality shows that have been dubbed, (3) American music videos, and on rare occasions, (4) German music videos.

****Note: Again, this was Michael and not me :) (Dolores)*********

EuroLife: Day 101

He's Done!

Michael handed in his dissertation this evening! It weighed in at a whopping 314 pages. That's an awful lot of dissertating. The evening culminated with our taking turns scanning the document for final formatting errors, but only after we spent ages (on two different computers) wrestling with what can only be described as the most inexplicable, irrational, seemingly malicious series of pagination glitches in Microsoft Word. Some day, when I have more energy and am less tired of staring at a computer screen, I will try to explain just how weird it was. Tonight, I will leave you with a picture of the man himself--Hegel, not Michael--and go to bed.


(It would have been a picture of Michael, but I could not persuade him to strike an "I just finished my dissertation" pose for the camera. It's too bad, too. He is, in my opinion, a much better looking man than Georg Wilhelm Friedrick Hegel.)

EuroLife: Day 100

100 days! Wow. I'm sorry I don't have a momentous "It's day 100!" post for you today--just a regular old post. I'll try to think up something fancy for our next impressive-sounding date. In the meantime, I have both good an bad news today.

The good news is that both Michael and I have had very productive days in the library since I got back. (I can't believe how much easier it is to work now that the first trimester fatigue is gone!) The bad news is that we haven't done anything that's at all exciting or blog-worthy. Michael will be handing in his dissertation tomorrow, which is eminently exciting and blog-worthy, but for now he's bogged down in the last minor details of proof-reading. I'm trying to really be good about working very hard now that I am feeling well--particularly because the baby will surely slow things down a bit. So, our lives have been fairly boring of late. This weekend, however, we are going to Leipzig and will return with exciting stories of our wild adventures! We've also decided to try to take more frequent weekend day-trips now that we're settled into Jena. I would like to tell you that Leipzig was chosen as our first destination because it was the birthplace of Leibniz--a famous philosopher who our good friend Michael Murray is something of an expert on-- or because it was where Bach spent time as a church cantor. Alas, this is not the case.

The original plan was to head to nearby Weimar, which is loaded with history and a place that Michael has been wanting to go to for a while. The thing is, we can go to Weimar anytime...and there's a Lush in Leipzig. For those of you who haven't heard me rave about it, Lush is a store that sells incredible, hand-made bath & body products. It's my favorite store in the whole wide world. They can only be found in bigger cities--there was none in South Bend, surprise surprise--and I only get to go once every year or two. Now, there's one in Frankfurt and one in NYC, so I thought for sure I'd get to go over Christmas. (We flew out of Frankfurt, and I spent 2 weeks in New York for crying out loud.) I did not succeed in reaching a Lush in either of these cities. By now, the post-Christmas blow-out sales are probably over, but I just need to try. So I tossed the idea out to Michael today and, much to my surprise, he said "OK, that sounds great!" I am a very happy girl. We will also see the churches, the museums, the zoo (which is supposed to be incredible) and all that jazz...but I will be coming home with the fixings for delightful bubble baths. Everybody wins!

So, here are some photos of what's to come--taken directly from Wikipedia.



The railway station: one of the largest in all of Europe.

















The St Thomas Lutheran Church: Where Bach worked as a cantor!







And finally, last but not least (and not from wikipedia)...


The "Bathos" bubble-bath bar from Lush. Crumble this baby under running water and you get a delightfully fragrant, purple bath with ample, gigantic bubbles. Plus, for the next 24 hours, your skin feels as if you've just put moisturizer on. I highly recommend it.








And finally....

EuroLife: Day 99

More Fun Signs!

Well, just one really. The truth is, I totally forgot about the blog today until a few minutes ago--just as I, once again, forgot until we were well on our way to church this morning that the service would be auf Deutsch. (I was just beginning to get used to that back in December...) So here it is. We saw this one on our walk yesterday afternoon:


Now I know, there aren't any pictures of children playing in traffic here, but this made me laugh out loud. Allow me to (roughly!) translate: "Garbage dumping forbidden! Violators can be punished with a fine of up to fifty thousand Euros."

That's right! Not fifty Euros, Not 500 Euros, but Fifty Thousand Euros. Now, I knew that the Germans were environmentally conscious--and this could explain why the trails in which we hike are so pristine---but Fifty Thousand Euros? That really is remarkable.

On an unrelated note, the weather has been absolutely beautiful. Here is one more picture from our hike yesterday. I believe it is the university's Urology Clinic of all things, but it's a nice building.

EuroLife: Day 98

Dolores and I are back, and the time has come for us to soldier on. We come back with many resolutions and good intentions. We plan to speak German together one hour every evening, and we plan to see more of Thuringen and the surrounding area. So far we've seen the hills around Jena, but little beyond that. We've traveled as far as our feet can comfortably take us. Now it is time to set out by bike and train.

Despite these intentions to venture out beyond our happy valley, today we walked to one of the few hills we had not yet climbed. We went to see the Bismarkturm. I had often seen the top of the Bismarkturm peaking through the trees on to of the hill just southwest of town. I was curious to see this tower that looked like a castle from a distance, though the name somewhat dampened my curiosity. I still held out some hope that the tower might be the remnants of some medieval castle, named after some long forgotten Bismark, though I feared that it was a Nineteenth century fake. And so it is.

Its a pretty cool looking fake, but a fake. I was most impressed by the uneven stones used in its construction. None of the stones are exactly the same size, and I found myself marveling at how stones of such different sizes could be fitted together to build rows of equal height. There isn't much information to be found about this tower on the internet, though one seemingly official website reported that it is used as a water tower. Interestingly enough, I also found that there are Bismark towers -- Bismarkturme -- all over Germany. Everywhere, in every forest and every small town, there are towers built and named in honor of Germany's first chancellor. I guess that gives Angela Merkel something to shoot for.