Die Bundeskanzlerin

I'm kind of pleased that Angela Merkel has decided to assert her personal space.

I'm less than pleased that people are attributing it to her "chilly" East German demeanor, and not the fact that she maybe just doesn't want to be fondled by other heads of state.

(So noted: the article is based on background info; not an official statement from the Chancellor. Of course, if one was an important female head of state and one wanted other world leaders to STOP TOUCHING THEM, going through nonformal communications would be the way to do it -- anything else would be seen as pushy and overreacting.)

Der Verrückte Wechselkurs

Since I've arrived, the value of the Euro has plummeted - it hit at 19-month low today. When I left on the 13th, the Euro was hovering a little under $1.36 per. Now It's at $1.285. 8 cents may not sound like a lot of money, but let's say, hypothetically, I had $10,000 to finance my trip. When the Euro was at 1.36, that was only 7,352 euros. Now, that's 7,781 euros. I would have "made" almost 450 euros in the course of a few days.

Not too much money in the grand scheme of things - but look at May-July, when I was originally planning this trip; the rate was as high as 1.60 - the money was only worth 6,250 euros.

Of course, the plummeting euro comes as the rest of the world market seems to be imploding, so while it's good news for me in the short term, it's bad news for everyone else, and for me in the long term. Still, it will be interesting to see how this affects life in Berlin. Maybe coat on sale for 175 euros will cost me even less.

PS -I had to do A LOT of very basic math for this post, but it totally flummoxed me. I hope you all appreciate it. Who says I'm not having fun?

Der Zug

The trains in Berlin are just I’d been told – clean, efficient, easy to navigate. Today, I was able to help a man (who asked in German!) find his station with the help of a map. Before I left, Matt gave me a really amazing moleskin journal with a pullout subway map and several small maps of the city. The journal is filled with handy features – a temperature conversion chart, a place to write down restaurants and museums that seem interesting, tracing paper and small tear away pages for notes – but the maps have saved me several times. I like that the book is small and innocent looking; I can be a lost tourist without looking like one, and it fits in my purse.
To enter the train, you buy a ticket at a platform kiosk, then randomly the guards check the cars to make sure all passengers have tickets. It’s basically the honor system, and it seems to work well. What happens when you don’t have a ticket? A friend told me they confiscate your ID and you must then pay a fine at the central station, where the ID is returned. The first few times I rode the train, I didn’t realize you had to validate the ticket at a small machine next to the ticket kiosk; when the patrolman saw that, he asked me to leave the train at the next stop and do so. This week, I bought a 7-day pass for the U-Bahn (subway), which means I can just hop on when a car arrives.
There are electronic signs at each platform which alert you to the next train’s arrival; the stereotype about German trains running on time is true. The L train in Brooklyn has a similar sign, but where the Berlin trains run almost every 10 minutes without fail, it’s not uncommon to see the L train sign say “MANHATTAN – 23 MINUTES” only to switch to “MANHATTAN – 29 minutes” two minutes later.
I’m experimenting with different routes from my apartment to school – right now, it can take up to an hour, though I’ve yet to make it to and from class without getting lost. Today I was so engrossed in my magazine that I missed my stop and rode on for several more stations; by the time I realized and righted myself I missed my conversation class.
And if I keep writing, I’ll miss my intensive class, so I’d best be going.

Warum machst du kein Spass?

A few days before my trip, I was wandering through the Petsmart on 92nd street when my cell rang. It was a Very Important Literary Agent, who I was trying to interview for a story. “Now’s not a good time,” I said, from the middle of the kibble aisle. “But by any chance are you going to Frankfurt?”
She laughed. “No, thank God. It’s so crazy there. I always get sick. Between the late nights and the adrenaline and the parties, it does a number on your immune system. You’ll have a blast, but be warned.”


At the Fair, a very-well dressed Indian man is describing his company’s product. The booth is a few feet off the ground, all white and neon colors, and since his product is pretty technical, and I’m still pretty jet lagged, I can’t stifle a yawn. “I’m sorry,” I say, and mean it, but he just shrugs. “It’s the fair – everyone is always so hung over. I understand.” I try to tell him that it’s just the time difference, that I really am exhausted. “I haven’t even been out at all!” I say. He looks puzzled.


Canon, the only other American in my language class, nods sympathetically when I tell him it’s only my second night in Berlin. “My second night was crazy,” he says. Canon is 17, and exchange student from Minnesota with a tiny elfin build. He can’t be more than 110 pounds, and at least a pound of that comes from the large bar through his eyebrow. “My host parents threw me a party and I was up all night.” I go home and microwave a pizza, then watch CSI auf Deutsch.


It’s 2 am in Berlin, and I’m on the phone with a Los Angeles producer, for whom it’s only 4pm. “I was in Berlin right after the wall came down,” he says. “Lots of great clubs, interesting people, crazy drugs. God, you must be having so much fun.”


I have no interest in crazy Berlin drugs. But I am eager to have some of this mythical German “fun” that has thus far eluded me. At the fair, I was so far out of town that it didn’t make sense to stay out late in Frankfurt – though I didn’t really know anyone to stay out with in the first place. (I was going to watch a Penn State game at the Mariott hotel bar, but the game didn’t start until 10 pm, and I didn’t feel safe going back to Langen alone.) Usually, I do well at making friends at these conventions – in fact, a friend I met at the OrganicWest expo in California took me out when I was in Colorado for a story, and he and his husband are threatening to come visit me here. But I think the language barrier and the jet lag – which is really doing a number on me, even now – kept me from really being my extroverted self.

In Berlin, of course, I’m still getting settled, and have only made a few efforts to extend myself. Hopefully now that I’m in somewhat of a routine, I’ll have more time to devote to social pursuits. There’s a group of English-speaking expats that meet up every Thursday night; I plan on attending tomorrow. I found them on a message board devoted to that demographic, and even posted my own request for a World-Series watching venue. No one seemed that interested (one girl said she loved baseball but couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for a Rays/Phils match-up), and since the game won’t begin until 2 am I understand. Still, everyone was friendly in their replies, so hopefully they’ll be welcoming when I show up tomorrow.
On Friday, I may meet up with an American journalist who is just about to move to France. He’s offered to put me in touch with the journalist clique that gets together every so often. This weekend, I hope to explore the city and get in touch with an artist I briefly emailed about a room. The room was long gone by the time I contacted him, but I suggested we keep in touch, as I hope to cover a lot of the art scene here. At this point, it’s a matter of me making an effort to contact all the friends of friends and associates and allies that might be hiding here in Berlin, and to get out of the house a little more. Luckily, my house is a very stark East German apartment that doesn’t lend itself to lounging around.

Ich liebe technologie

Me watching a Penn State Game via a New York TV while in Frankfurt, Germany. Go State!

Zu Viel Schlafen

Jet lag got the best of me today. I made it to the fair early enough - thanks to a super-fast German train that I caught right on time - but I was so tired I only stayed for half a day. Instead of going through the conventio hall to get to the bahnhoff, I walked through town to the main train station. The architechture in the city is a combination of very modern (like a shell-shaped spiral staircase by the old IBM building) and stunning neoclassical/neorennisance designs (like the train station, above) architechture.

I stopped at one of the hotels to leave a message for one of my sources; I had a drink at the bar and read a magazine; I took the train home when it was still light out and got to see some gorgeous trees. The air here smells wonderful - crisp leaves and fireplaces.

The plan was to take a nap for two hours, then head off to the more historic part of town to do some sightseeing. But for the second time, I had problems with my alarm, and slept until after dark. So instead of going out, I stayed in, made another fire, and did some work.

Tomorrow is my lastl full day at the fair, and I plan to get the most of it. Then, on to Berlin!

Arbeiten Schwer Für das Geld

I'm writing a small piece for Newsweek International based on a lecture I attended. Excluding extra airfare, I'm hoping to make the BucheMesse pay for itself. Tickets were free on a press pass, but lodging and transportation add up. This morning I overslept - that gorgeous fire I built last night wouldn't go out, and I was too nervous to go to bed until it was down to a few embers. That plus the jet lag found me asleep until almost noon. It was raining and I was already late, so I hopped in a cab after waiting fifteen minutes for a bus.

The cab ride from the airport and to the book fair cost $64 euros -- almost $90. But we got a little lost, and the cabbie waited for me outside (though he turned the fair off, I figured that added a little extra) - I figured a ride to the fair would cost about $25 - still steep, but worth it. By the time we arrived, the meter was at $48 euros!

I originally planned to take a bus from my street to the Bahnhof (train station) then the S-Bahn to the convention hall. That costs about $5 euro combined, or $10 a day. Today, the bus was right there when I got off the train (and I only took it in the wrong direction once!), so it worked out perfectly. Last night, not so much, so I took a cab home. That only cost about 5 euros, so that's an acceptable option once I get off the train. On a side note, both the bus and train are warm, well-lit, and comfortable.



You may notice that I've changed some post titles. I've decided to give each post a German name, so you'll be forced to learn some German along with me.

Herr Geistesverwandtschaft

Take a look at the Dodgers discussing their loss to the Phils. The rest of the team looks like their collective dogs just died, while Nomar is grinning like he made it to the Showcase Showdown and finished with $1.20. Sure, he didn't make it to the final round, but he got to spin the Big Wheel, hang out with Drew Carey, and win a new dining room set.

One of my favorite things about the Phils this year is how cool and gracious they've been -- talking one another up in interviews, praising the fans, and being all-around nice, decent guys. Of course, it's easy to be nice and decent when you win. (And when the Phils weren't winning, Jimmy Rollins started up with the "frontrunner" talk, which bothered me less than most due to it's trueness). It's harder when you lose, but Nomar pulls it off here.

I'd been casually following Nomar for the past three or four years, since he trained with a Men's Health guy and the mag had done a few piece on him. This summer, I met him in person for this, and he impressed me with his thoughtful answer and his willingness to discuss the team's physical therapist (other players just looked at me like I was crazy; one flat-out lied to me about being injured). My notes were mostly crampy and illegible, so the published quote doesn't do justice to his eloquence.

While it may have been his pop-up that ended the game, he took the loss with class and dignity. He's a professional. When you make millions of dollars to play a game, I'd hope more men could be as collected and adult. But sometimes being gracious - or having the wherewithall to fake grace when you've just suffered a huge dissapointment - can be harder than turning a double play. Nomar Garciaparra is at the top of that game.

(title: Mr. Congeniality)

GEHEN SIE PHILS!

(that's "Go Phils!" in German)

ETA: There's some debate -- I'm going to find out from a real German (echt Deutsch) what the prefered phrase is.

Days 1 and 2: Wilkommen in Deutschland

frankfurt at night (from hotelcristall.com). my helpful cabby tells me frankfurt has germany's biggest skyline.

I’ve been awake for about 34 hours, but right now the only sign of my sleepy brain is that I can’t think of very clever ways to write about my trip. I did manage to build a fire, which is maybe not a great idea when you’re on 33 hours of sleep and engineering isn’t your strong suit and the fireplace is an old, old stone thing with no doors or grate to protect you should an errant log go tumbling. But it’s a dark and stormy night, and I’m in a refinished carriage house all by myself. That calls for a fire.

The carriage house is in Lagen, a lovely little town about 25 minutes outside of Frankfurt. I decided to attend the huge book fair (Buchmesse) at the last minute, and didn’t start thinking about a room until the last fifteen seconds. The fair is one of the biggest events in Europe for the book industry, and rooms have been sold out for months. For a few days, I was worried I’d be without a place to stay, or have to put up 500 euros a night for one of the few remaining places. I went looking for a room on craigslist, and found this. A two-bedroom apartment with a big kitchen and a terrace and a private gate and exposed wood beams criss-crossing the walls. The owners live in a big farmhouse at the top of the drive, and the carriage house has been sectioned into two apartments. It’s way more than I need, but not too expensive – and did I mention the fireplace?

The trip from New York City to Frankfurt was incredibly easy: I was through LaGuardia in twenty minutes, then had a very bumpy flight to Montreal, which was stunning. We landed right before sunset, and the river and the trees and the sky were all different shades of red and gold. In Montreal, I breezed through customs – they had a line specifically for those of us heading to Europe – then tried to take advantage of the weak Canadian dollar by stocking up on magazines. The flight to Berlin went quickly, and thanks to the in-flight entertainment, I was able to see a lot of movies on my list: Recount (good but very wonky), Baby Mama (fine if you’re stuck on a plane above the Atlantic) and the first 45 minutes of "John Adams." (I hope the rest of the miniseries is still there when I fly home).

At the airport, there were minimal lines and my bags were the first to hit the carousel. I found a very friendly cabby who spoke good English but indulged my paltry German. He took me to the apartment, waited while I changed clothes, then drove me to the fair. To be honest, I’m not really sure what I should be doing here and what’s the best way to approach things. I did learn that I shouldn’t attend sessions wherein an older English woman with a low, soothing voice shows slides in the dark – at least, not after I stayed up all night watching crappy Tina Fey comedies (sorry, Tina!).

The best part of my day came when I left the Fair to buy an adapter. Frankfurt is so lovely. The maple trees in the park have the biggest leaves I’ve ever seen – they’re the size of elephant ears, and the brick sidewalks are blanketed in green and gold. The air smelled clean and cool. There were people on bikes and people with big dogs (no toy fox terriers here – I saw one woman sitting at a picnic table with five 100-plus pound dogs). The wide streets meander along the city past gorgeous old houses and parks with small hills and big fountains.

Did I get flustered and pay too much for a train ticket on my way home? Yes. Did I forsake my frugal, bus-taking plans to hop in a cab once the train arrived at my station? Yes. Is German marinara sauce less than spectacular? Oh man, it’s like eating mushy tomatoes. But I found the right subway and made it home with no real problems, and my German is good enough to make small talk with the grocer, who wears a long white coat and has an old fashioned mustache, and there’s a fire in the fireplace.