"See" in German is "Lake" in English, but Sounds like Sea with a Z at the Beginning

Munich is surrounded by little lakes, and I can say little lakes, because I come from Michigan which is surrounded by big lakes, or the Great Lakes as they are more officially called.  Anything smaller than the Great Lakes are little lakes.  Of course this is all a matter of perspective, but despite their less than Great size, these lakes are no less magnificent.  They are down right gorgeous, and considerably cleaner than the Great Lakes.   The last week of May, we visited Ammersee, and we were treated to some pretty amazing views, especially at the end of the day when a storm started to roll in.

This week, a friend offered us her family home on Walchensee, about an hour outside of Munich.  We had never heard of Walchensee before, as it is not easily accessible by public transportation like the more popular Ammersee and Starnberger See. Nestled in the foothills of the German Alps with fantastic views of Zugspitze (the tallest mountain in Germany) Walchensee blew away all the other lakes.   The first day we arrived there was cloudy, but I did manage to capture this interesting shot of a sailboat being towed by a rowboat.

Turns out, the locals in Walchensee are fiercely protective of their little spot of paradise and have prohibited use of any sort of gas guzzling polluting motor boats.  The obvious result, a very clean lake, but the unintentional side-affect is that the lake has become a popular destination for sailors, windsurfers and kite-surfers. Unfortunately on days when there is no wind, sailors have to tow their boats with a row-boat, but I'm sure they don't complain about not having to share the lake with "stinkboats."

On Friday, the we took the "Herzogbahn," or cable car, up the side of the mountain, and we were treated to some amazing views.  Unfortunately, we were there at the wrong time of the day, so we had less than ideal lighting for photographs.

 

The lake winds its way around a couple mountains, so without an airplane, or maybe climbing to a higher peak, it is impossible to get a photo that can fully grasp the shape and size of the lake.  Below is another end of the lake from the other side of the mountain.

There are loads of hiking trails in the area.  When we started out on the trail pictured below, we thought we were just taking a nice walk in the neighborhood, with Maggie on her trike and Maxi on his Laufrad, however it wasn't long before the trail got too steep, and we abandoned the bikes.  Yes, you can do that in Bavaria without fear of someone stealing them.  Pretty soon though, it was too tiring for the kids, and Paul became their camel. 

 

The contrast of the mountains and the water is something rare, but it reminded me a little bit of Lake Moomaw, made by the Army Corp of Engineers,  about an hour away from our home in Virginia.

Clearly, Walchensee is much cleaner, so clean that Germans say the water is drinkable.  That means a lot coming from a race that typically refuses to drink tap water, preferring bottled fizzy water.  No, that doesn't mean that Walchensee is fizzy, just that the water is clean and tastes good, which my daughter can attest to, as she drank quite a bit of it.  

 

Even though the kids are fully dressed in the photo above, they did get to jump in the water the next day.  And spending as much time as I did in Lake Michigan growing up, I wasn't concerned with the frigid 15°C (59°F) water temperature, despite the gawking stares of nearby observers.

Paul has taken upon himself to try and get more photos of me on vacation.  This isn't the best photo from the group, but I think it is the funniest.  I'm usually behind the camera, not in front of it, so for good measure here is one more photo from Walchensee. 

Endearing

After living in Germany for almost three years, the novelty has worn off. Every once in awhile though, something surprises me. Like this, the surprise in the cereal box, or Müsli bag in this case:  A miniature wooden train car.

Unlike the typical surprises in the cereal box of plastic straw etc., this one actually encourages me to buy more of the Müsli.  The little train came inside of this red plastic egg that my children are modeling here,

and here.

Things like this make me smile and think, "Wow, this is pretty cool."

Driving

Today was my first day driving stick alone. I had finished my lessons at the driving school, and I had been practicing with Paul in the car. When we woke up this morning and it was raining, and with a little encouragement from Paul, I decided to be brave and drive Max to Spielgruppe (pre-school).

I stalled at every intersection, and I was honked at by numerous motorists. Max, to his delight, learned a new explicative on our way, and every time I stalled, he would say it in unison with me. I wonder if the teacher will notice... hmmmm.

I was shaking by the time we reached school, and though the drive home was much smoother, I can still feel my heart pounding. I need a little more practice before I do that again.

Update on Kindergartens

I swore I would not be one of those moms, one of the moms who freaks out about what preschool her child goes too, but when I wrote this post, I was dangerously close to crossing the line.  We had only applied to three kindergartens for Max, Waldorf A, Waldorf B and the Waldkindergarten.  After receiving letters putting us on the wait lists of two of the three, Paul and I started to worry and wonder if we should start applying to other kindergartens.  Most kindergartens open their admission in February, but maybe we could get on some more waiting lists, increasing our odds of finding a spot for Max.  The biggest concern of course, was the gap in his language skills.   He was finally starting to make progress in the German language, and we were worried that any length of time not in school would set him back.

Needless to say, I was quite relieved when we received the acceptance letter to the local public kindergarten.   We had applied over a year ago, but after having an underwhelming experience at the information afternoon, we quickly forgot about it.  Once we were accepted to this kindergarten the pressure was off, and before we knew it, all of our ducks seemed to line up.  A couple weeks later, we were accepted into Waldorf B which is very close to where we live.  And at the beginning of this week, we received a call from Waldorf A where Max is currently attending a Spielegruppe.  They had a spot open up, and they offered it to us.  We declined, as we had already accepted the spot at Waldorf B.

Maggie is guaranteed a spot in the Spielgruppe at Waldorf B, and later in the Kindergarten class, so I can be sane once again, at least until we start looking at Grundschulen (elementary schools) in three years. 

Secret Smiles

My mother and I are both convinced that Maggie has been smiling since she was just a couple weeks old. My pediatrician thinks I’m mad, which might be true, but has nothing to do with whether or not Maggie is an early smile-er. Of course Maggie refused to smile during her U3, the German well baby one month check-up. However, can you blame her, she was being poked and prodded, hung by one leg than the other and flipped this way and that at a time of day when she is usually sleeping.

Most people explain those early baby smiles as gas, but gas has certainly never made me smile. Maggie’s smiles are becoming more frequent and more obviously a reflection of how she is feeling. When Max leans down to her and whispers “Hi baby,” tickling her with his blonde fringe, a big toothless grin lights up her face. When I speak dinosaur talk, the rolling lips, the clicking of the tongue or the popping of lips, she looks at me, gives me her silent baby laugh and coos.

Those easy un-conscious smiles are one of the best gifts my children can give me. When everything else seems to be falling apart, and I’m not sure I can take it anymore, just one precious smile from one of my children, and I can go on. This time is fleeting, and one day their smiles will be forced if the photographer can coax one out of them. So please don’t take away my babies’ early smiles, they are my little nuggest of gold, the moments I will hold on to when they reach those teenage years, when the smiles become rare and few in-between.

PANIC and running around aimlessly

My first day alone with the two children, and we ended up going to the emergency room before we'd even reached lunchtime. While I was attending Baby Maggie, my two-year-old, Max, got into his father's backpack and swallowed an unknown amount of hand-sanitizer. He ran into me crying, holding the half empty bottle trying to get it out of his mouth.

The hardest part about being in a foreign country where you don't speak the language, is dealing with emergencies,

My first reaction was to PANIC and run aimlessly around the apartment half-crazed, while trying to peel back the label for the promised "additional drug facts." After the 30 seconds which felt like forever it took me to peel back the label I read "Keep out of the reach of children. If swallowed, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center immediately."

My reaction more PANIC and more running aimlessly around the apartment half-crazed. I didn't know the phone number to a German poison control, nor can I speak German to someone on the phone. Not being able to use body language makes it almost impossible to communicate even with people who understand English pretty well.

My brain addled by the PANIC I was still feeling, I called my husband. He told me to call the ambulance, which was a pretty appropriate response to the amount of PANIC I was conveying over the phone, though not appropriate to the situation. Max was showing no signs or symptoms of being poisoned and was immensely enjoying chasing his wild eyed mother around the apartment.

The PANIC and running aimlessly around the house half-crazed briefly paused, and I told Paul I was going to call the pediatrician. This led to more PANIC and more running aimlessly around the apartment half-crazed in a wild search for my wallet which has the pediatrician's card on it, because when I am in PANIC mode, my brain can't compute the obvious. The wallet was in my bag where it belongs.

I tried calling, but after ringing a couple times, I got a strange message in German, and elevator music which is not at all soothing while PANICKING and running aimlessly around the apartment half-crazed because your two-year-old just swallowed an unknown amount of hand sanitizer. I hung up and dialed again, and got the same result. More PANIC, more running around aimlessly. I called Paul back and was met by a busy signal. More PANIC, more running around aimlessly.

Not sure what to do, I attempted the pediatrician again, at which point Paul showed up on call waiting. I told him I couldn't get through to the pediatrician, and he sensibly asked me if the pediatrician was open. I retorted, "Of course, the pediatrician is open." He suggested going straight to the pediatrician's office instead of calling.

My addled brain responded with, "THAT ISN'T EXACTLY EASY WITH TWO KIDS," no car, a stroller in the basement bike-room, and at least 30 minute door-to-door commute if I catch the bus at the exactly right moment.

His response, "That isn't the point, is it?"

My response, "Sometimes I hate you for bringing me here where I feel so helpless," which was really my way of saying, "I hate that you are being reasonable, while I am PANICING and running around the apartment aimlessly half-crazed." So I hung up and accidentally turned the phone off, which meant more PANIC and more running around aimlessly because I had to search in our file cabinet for the stupid pin number to turn the phone back on, because I can never remember it. Who puts stupid pin numbers on cell phone anyways?

After more PANIC and more running around aimlessly, I found the pediatrician's card that I had set down in the bathroom during a previous episode of PANIC and running around aimlessly. I looked at the back and realized that the pediatrician’s office was about to close for lunch and wouldn't be open again for another three-and-a-half hours, enough time for the hand-sanitizer to take effect, and my child would no longer be laughing while chasing his wild eyed mother around the apartment.

I called Paul back, and told him that I had to go to the emergency room. Still the voice of calm and reason, he told me he would call a Taxi when I was ready. So after I retrieved the baby's car seat from the attic and put shoes on Max and me, I made sure I had my wallet with health insurance cards, when I realized that I didn't have any cash. More PANIC and more running around aimlessly, I called Paul and told him I didn't have any cash to take a taxi. Still calm and reasonable, he told me to ask the Taxi to take me to a bank.

Once I was in the taxi, the PANIC and aimless running around subsided, because I now had a sense of direction, but mostly because I was restrained by the seat-belt. Max was sitting in the taxi's car seat happily babbling away about taxis and autos. We got to the children's hospital, and we were almost immediately triaged in to see a doctor. This was disappointing to Max who was having fun riding the carousel in the waiting room.

After the doctor contacted a Berlin Poison Institute about Max's choice of poison, she informed me that the amount missing from the 1oz bottle wasn't enough to do any harm. She still did a full examination of him to make sure that he wasn't showing any signs or symptoms of poisoning, and with a reassuring smile she told me that every child this age swallows something like this.

Crisis averted.

Stroller Poor

When I purchased our fourth stroller, I thought it would be our last. I had no idea that I was already pregnant with my second child. We weren't trying to get pregnant at the time, and we thought by the time baby number two would come along, that Max would no longer need to ride in a stroller. So when we found out that Maggie was on her way, we started to explore how we could avoid getting a fifth stroller.

Our first attempt was to get the Buggy Board, a little board attached to the stroller where the older child can stand. Max did really well on the first test run. He seemed to really enjoy riding the stroller this way, until we reached a familiar path, and Max decided he would prefer to walk on his own. This made it enormously more difficult since Max likes to wander around taking his time picking up rocks and inspecting the bugs.

Paul decided we needed to "train" him to stay on the buggy board. That weekend we took Max shopping. He did great getting there, though it took all four hands to pop him on the bus, followed by the stroller, parking the stroller and getting him seated. Still, something I would be able to manage by myself with practice. Then we go to DM (a kind of CVS) where we needed to pick up a few things. As soon as we entered, Max popped off the buggy board. We tried to convince him to stay on the buggy board, but half way through the store he was too distracted to cooperate anymore. So, our next solution was to try him on the child size shopping carts. Max bounced around the store like a pin ball. Watching him run at full speed pushing the shopping cart through everyone and everything in his way was entertaining, but not practical.

Our next thought was to teach him to walk next to us while we pushed the stroller, holding his hand. Trying to convince a two year old to stay with you when there are so many tantalizing things on the shelves is harder than convincing U.S. Congressmen to impose term limits in Congress. Our next thought was to give him something to occupy his hands, so we picked the biggest item from our shopping bag, and gave that to him to carry. This actually worked several times, and it seemed we had a solution to shopping with our two-year-old on the loose.

Several times Paul and I ventured out with Max, strollerless. Usually our trips ended with Paul carrying Max home on his shoulders or asleep in his arms. Still we kept our heads in the sand, convinced that we would be able to get Max used to the buggy board or walking along side us.

Then Maggie was born. I could carry Maggie in a sling, and push Max in the stroller. This worked the first couple times, until I tried to go down the escalator at the train station. When I would bend over to hold the stroller, I had to use one of my hands to keep the baby from falling out of the sling. Max's safety now depended on my other hand holding the precariously perched stroller on the escalator. On shorter shopping trips I put Max on the buggy board and Maggie in the stroller. Max's first time off the buggy board, I gave him a giant bottle of water to keep his hands occupied. Shortly afterwards he had managed to pick up a Snickers bar and would have fit a few other items under his chin given more time.

The last straw was on the way home, when in typical two-year-old fashion, Max kicked and screamed in my arms the whole way home, while my mother pushed the baby stroller. This was the last straw. My mother wasn’t going to be in Germany forever to help me. I needed a double stroller with all the features I described here, and it needed to seat two children. There isn't a single double stroller that fits into our elevator, so I would have to enter the building via the garage and leave the stroller in the bike room. Still there were features we couldn’t live without, like big wheels for getting on and off the bus and trains. All the inexpensive tandems out there didn't have big wheels, and few of them are designed to balance on the back wheels long enough to ride down the escalator.

There was one stroller, the Phil and Ted's stroller that is ingeniously designed, with an sibling seat that fits under the stroller, but after seeing one in person, and its design flaws, I didn't feel like it was worth the money, 800€ after adding all necessary accessories. We didn’t want to pay that price when we hopefully won't be using the stroller for more than a year-and-a-half.

So it we started looking at side-by-side strollers with necessary feature, like the TFK, Urban Jungle or Easy Walker, but those prices were still sky-high. We looked at E-Bay and visited a family selling their double stroller. Even second hand, we were looking at spending at least 6oo€ for something we wouldn't use for very long.

We briefly considered buying Chariot’s bike trailer that doubles as a buggy. 1000€ doesn’t seem so bad, when a bike trailer can hold the children up until they are about six-years-old, and afterwards can be used to lug around groceries or any number of items you might want to take along with you on a bike ride. This we would be getting a lot more mileage for our money, but it was still a lot of cash, when we are trying to save for a car.

So back to the drawing board and after a full days search online, I found a little known stroller company, which makes the Crown. It still doesn't fit into the elevator, but it had all the desirable features plus some extra perks, and with all the accessories and shipping cost only 350€. The only thing I would change about the stroller is to make a larger storage compartment and to go back to one of their older models where they have two front wheels, not just one. Two wheels makes it much more stable when going up escalators or getting on to buses.

Now if only Pasing Bahnhof would finish the construction on their escalators and elevator, I’d be set.

Update: Within 3 months of purchasing this stroller, it started to fall apart, and I regret not buying a more expensive stroller.

Purl, Knit, Purl, Knit

Right before Christmas of 2007, I found a new interest in knitting. My oldest sister is a fabulous knitter, and I was quick to tap into her for advice and information. After I finished my first project, a Christmas stocking, I quickly got distracted with other things, like our new house, our new city, and the million and one activities I was involving Max in from story time at the Staunton Public Library to Buggy Busters in Gypsy Hill Park.

Now that I'm back in Germany, where knitting is pretty prominent, at least amongst the older generation, I started to get interested in it again. My big sister also got me hooked on Ravelry.com, where I found out that a local English speaking knitting group meets every week for what is affectionately termed "Stitch n' Bitch." My fellow knitters range from University students to working professionals, parents and single people, and there are from all over the world. The one thing they all have in common, other than their English and living in Munich, is how utterly awesome they are.

This group has been a much needed escape for me. It's been great to meet people, and do something that isn't based on the commonality of having children alone.

Subtle Differences

Anyone who moves to a new country, and or new city, notices the differences. Some of these differences make life more difficult, i.e. not knowing the language makes it much harder to decipher a bill or do your own taxes. Some differences are inconsequential, like different food brands. Some differences make life easier, like the fact that the ATM gives your ATM card back before it gives you the cash. No one ever forgets to take the cash they just debited, but how many times has an ATM card has been left behind in the machine?

And then there are the differences that make your life spectacular... especially in Bavaria. For example, we just had a four day weekend, because not only is Easter Sunday a State holiday, but so is Good Friday and Easter Monday. Bavaria has six more public holidays than most of Germany. In 2009, 21* public holidays fall during the work week. Furthermore, we also are guaranteed 30 days of vacation. For the kids, they get out of school for 14 weeks** in six chunks through out the year over the seasons. Now I might be scratching my head, wondering how great this is when my kids are home this much, but I bet that my kids are going to be thrilled. No wonder Germans travel so much.

The only downside to all of these Holidays is that it doesn't only close businesses like my husbands office, but it also closes the stores. So, you had better have all your groceries bought before the holidays start, because there is no where to go to pick up a last minute bottle of milk. The only exception to this rule is gas stations, restaurants and tourist attractions like castles and museums. The same is true of Sundays. With the exceptions of restaurants, gas stations and tourist attractions, everything is closed. At first this was annoying we were used to being able to run out on Sundays for some last minute item we needed at the store, and sometimes we did our grocery shopping on Sundays. Now that we've adjusted, we are forced to relax and enjoy ourselves on Sundays. There will be no running errands on Sundays here. And if for some reason we don't have groceries, we have to go out to eat. Shucks.

Furthermore it's rare that you meet many Germans who work longer than 50 hours a week, and most only work 40 hours.

Now this might make you think, this can't be good for business. The German economy must be in the hole. However, according to the IMF, World Bank and CIA Factbook, Germany has the fifth highest GDP in the world, following the United States, Japan, China and India. Yet it only has 82 million people, compared to the USA's 306 million, Japan's 127 million, China's 1.3 billion, and India's 1.7 billion. I'd also like to point out these figures are after West and East Germany reunited, and it is after Germany converted to the Euro, both which were huge drags on the German economy.

So, Germany must be doing something right. It proves that there can be a comfortable balance between quality of life and productivity. You don't have to work like a dog to be profitable.

*I might have the exact number off here, but it is still signficantly larger than it was at home.

**To see the specific holidays check http://www.deutschland.de/aufeinenblick/ferientermine.php?lang=2

Genius or Stupid?

So last week Paul and I visited the KVR, or the Kreisverwaltungsreferat; try saying that five times fast. This is the big scary government office where we apply for and hopefully recieve residence permits. We were trying to get permanent residence permits for Max and I. For whatever reason when we moved here, they gave Paul one, but not his wife and child. Everyone else we know the spouse and children receive the same duration permit as the other spouse. However, we were told that Max and I had to be here five years, before we could apply for a permanent permit. Not ones willing to leave a place empty handed, we also asked if I was eligible for the Integration course.

The Integration course is a German language course combined with German history, German government 101, how to manage German bureaucracy etc. This course is extremely more affordable than taking classes on your own, as we only have to pay 1€ per class hour. Many of my friends who are here because they married a German were offered or mandated this course, but few of us who are here with our non-German spouses received it. The bureacrats at the KVR I guess took pity on me however, and offered me the course.

Now I have to take the class within three months of receiving the Certificate of Entitlement. Only the class close to our home starts two weeks after the baby is due. It's two and a half hours four times a week in the evenings. I'm not quite sure how it's going to go, as I'll be completely exhausted. I might be a very poor student. However, like I said, it was either complete genius or utter stupidity.

Edited to add: After further inspection, I realized that the Certificate of Entitlement is good for two years. The three month thing is regarding the course registration.

We have a fully functioning new computer...

...in German.

We recently purchased a new desktop computer to replace our barely functioning notebook. My notebook was getting so bad, that most of the letters had faded off the keys, the Z key went missing, the left mouse button only worked when it felt like it, and there were many many things I could no longer do on my laptop. It was time for the old girl to be retired.

Generally we put a lot of research and thought into a purchase of this size. However, as it happens our new computer ended up being a total impulse purchase. We happened to be in Le Buffet the restaurant at the top of Karstadt Hauptbahnhof Saturday night. As I was heading for the escalators, I went by the computer section noticing that many of their computers were on sale at a fraction of their original cost, and before we left, I dragged Paul back through the computer section.

We talked to the computer sales person for awhile, and he showed us a couple models to choose between. We decided to go home and talk about it, and come back the following weekend to make our purchase. However, for some reason, we decided to turn around right then and go back and make the purchase. It ended up being the last model other than the display model, they had in the store. The poor sales guy was trying to go home, and the store was closing, but the manager decided to let us purchase it anyways.

After we lugged it home, or Paul lugged it home via S-Bahn, bus and trail, in a drizzling rain, we were too exhausted to unpack it and set it up. The following morning, we tried to set up a computer in a language we barely know. Not only were we trying to translate German, but we were trying to translate German computer speak, or more specifically German Microsoft speak which is confusing enough on its own.

The first thing we tried to do was change the operating language from German to English, not realizing that you can't do that in Windows Vista Home operating system without an upgrade and purchasing a language pack. We did manage to change the keyboard to a US English keyboard, which isn't helpful at all since it's a German keyboard. I also managed to accidentally delete the German keyboard settings, which Paul somehow magically fixed.

Next we tried the Internet. So far, we've been able to just plug in our USB cable into my laptop and Paul's work laptop without a problem; this wasn't the case with the new computer. The new computer kept saying it didn't recognize the network. So after doing a snails paced search on the Internet, we uncovered all kinds of problems that people have had with their Internet and Windows Vista, and the network card. We also called a couple of our computer nerd friends and family, but they weren't able to help us either.

We were dreading contacting Karstadt, and HP to try and resolve the issue through broken German, but Paul was going to do suffer through it, and he was going to lug the new computer back to the store so they could show him how to fix the problem. He emailed HPs support desk and gave them my contact info so they could contact me during the day. So today after I received HPs email, I logged on to the new computer to tell the the exactly error message we were getting, and suddenly the Internet was working!

I have no idea how it resolved itself, and I don't care. Now if I can just get used to the German keyboard.

Six Months in Munich

This past Friday, Paul got his six month review at work. Now, normally this wouldn't seem like such a big deal, but for us it is. In Germany, the first six months is a probationary period, and companies can fire the person with no reason, and the person can quit with no reason. After the probationary period has passed, it becomes increasingly difficult for a company to discharge an employee, and an employee has to give three months notice.

What seems commonplace to most Germans, had my husband near ecstasy. Knowing that his job is secure as long as the company is secure is a huge weight off his shoulders. He has really enjoyed his position, and he really enjoys working with his colleagues. To know that our place in Germany is secure, and we can stay here indefinitely, well that's just about sends him into the clouds.

Now, that our place here is looking more permanent, and we aren't going to be packing up a shipping container anyway soon, we've decided to start making some permanent decisions, like replacing the light bulbs hanging from our ceilings with real light fixtures, purchasing an espresso machine*, and searching for kindergartens**.

Yes, Munich, we've purchased an espresso machine, we are here to stay.

* More on the importance of owning an espresso machine in Munich later.

** More on our kindergarten search later.

Assimilation

The other day I called the veterinarian to schedule an appointment for my dog. She needed her regular vaccinations. In my broken German, I started in on the conversation with my usual, "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, aber mein Deutsch ist nicht sehr gut. Ich habe einen Hund, und ich würde gerne einen Termin," meaning "I'm sorry, but my German is very poor. I have a dog, and I would like to make an appointment". The receptionist on the other end rattled off a endless stream of German, and me completely lost as to what she was saying started again rather pathetically with "Ich habe einen Hund." (I have a dog). Exasperated, she responded with "Do you speak English?" which I very enthusiastically affirmed.

My own struggles with learning German has given me new appreciation for the immigrants in my home country. While I was never such a hardliner as to say "If you're in the USA, you should speak English," I did feel strongly that newcomers should be putting their best effort forward to learn the language of their new country and that they should assimilate.

However, I never before realized the difficulty of learning a new language. Even if you're studying a language every day, and you're trying very hard to learn the language, it will be years possibly longer before you become fluent in the language.

I've made a couple big mistakes in my efforts learning the langugage. The first mistakes, is that I've found my little security net of English speakers, where I'm very comfortable. Sound familiar? The second mistake, is that I have not put my best effort into learning the new language. I can give you all kinds of excuses, from "everyone knows English here" to "I'm pregnant, and don't have the energy to learn right now." The truth though, is that I'm just completely overwhelmed by the effort it takes, and it's just easier to not put in the required effort. And I'm also hesitant about trying to speak German because I know how bad my German is, and that people rarely understand me.

Well, the very fact that I'm a mother, makes it 10 fold more important that I learn German. While a whole lot of people know English, not everyone does. As my very good friend and teacher who is fluent in both Spanish and English puts it to the Spanish speaking parents of her students, you need to learn English so you can advocate for your child. Well, I need to learn German, much for the same reason.

So while, it's a little early to make New Year's resolution, this is going to be my most important resolution. First, I'm not going to stay comfortable in my little network of English speakers. I'm joining a German speaking playgroup without any of my English speaking friends. Second, I'm going to start studying the language on a daily basis, not just when I feel like it. And third, I'm going to be willing to embarrass myself in front of fluent speakers at the supermarket, at the banks, at the post office, everywhere. Because, lets be honest, embarrassment is going to be the key to me learning the language.

Learning to Cook

We’re hosting a Halloween party, and I want to serve traditional American food. Though, what is traditional American food is questionable. I decided on pulled pork barbeque. Of course I’ve never made it before, and before I met Paul, I had never even heard of it. On Friday night, I made for the first time, and two of our good friends were kind enough to be my guinea pigs.

Let me back up in time a bit. I used to abhor cooking. When we were dating, Paul hated coming to my apartment because the fridge was always empty save maybe a bottle of Cesar dressing and a hard piece of parmesan. As a single girl, I dined out most of the time, and frankly my limited skills couldn’t compete with the dining out ethnic restaurants.

When Paul and I got married, I decided to try a little bit harder to learn how to cook, but ultimately the responsibility fell to Paul. Unless I had a cook book on hand, and about four hours to prepare and cook a meal, I was pretty much hopeless. Besides, by the time I got home from work, I was too hungry to cook.

It wasn’t until I became a stay-at-home mom, that I really learned to enjoy cooking. Part of this was because I had the time to follow the more elaborate recipes that reminded me of restaurant food. While living in Virginia, we bought a share in a local farm, part of Community Supported Agriculture, and this got me very excited about cooking. Receiving unfamiliar veggies like squashes, beats and pak choy, as well as free range chicken and eggs, brought out my creative side.

Now I look at cooking like art. It’s a creative process, and you hope that what you cook will turn out as good as you imagine. Unlike art, I get to follow pre-tested recipes. Pulled Pork barbeque is no simple recipe. Between preparing the sauce, seasoning, soaking and then another seven hours of roasting in the oven, it took me a good fourty-eight hours too finish the pulled pork from start-to-finish.

It was a huge success. My husband and our friends loved the pulled pork. How it is that I can handle cooking something so complicated, but grilled cheese continues to thwart me is a mystery.

Crunchy Towels & Stiff Jeans

Today is laundry day, and doing laundry is always an adventure in Deutschland, especially with an ornery toddler. Since I also washed clothes during Munich Part I. I knew what to expect. Just like last time, I am using the coin operated laundry in the basement of our building. The coins don’t go anywhere near the machine. They go into the electrical meter on the side of the wall. Instead of turning on the washing machine, the coins turn on the electric to the washing machine. I also have to turn on the water.

During Munich Part I, we had laundry time down to a science. The laundry room was in a neighboring building, and we had to sign up for our slot. I knew that if I signed up for six hours, I could get seven loads done. Two fifty-cent pieces bought me exactly one hour of electricity, but no cycle is exactly one hour, it‘s either less or more. Since there is no hot water line to the washer, water heats up in the machine, so the hotter the water, the longer the cycle. Since I don’t want to waste any of the electricity I’m paying for to turn on the water, add soap in, toss in the laundry or set the cycle, I wait to turn on the electricity until everything is ready to go.

After the first load, the following loads were a mad rush in effort to make the most of the bought electricity. Since there was still time left on the meter, and there is no way I would waste those precious cents on a stopped washing machine. Five minutes before my load was done, I’d run downstairs, hold my finger on the “open door” button and when the tumbler creeped to a stop, pop open the door, dump out the wet laundry into a basket (which was already strategically placed in front of the machine), toss in the dirty clothes, add the soap, close the door, push start, and add money to the electrical meter, so that I wouldn’t run out of electricity mid-load. After I spent my time leisurely putting the wet clothes into the dryer, or onto drying lines, before starting the mad cycle all over again in fourty-three minutes and twenty-nine seconds.

Our previous laundry room had a dryer and two very large rooms complete with lines to air dry your clothes. We didn’t realize what a luxury this was, until we moved into our current apartment. Being the very ecologically conscious people that Germans are, very few households actually use dryers. Our new laundry room doesn’t have a dryer, the two drying rooms are so small, I could fill them both with half of our laundry. Our new apartment has a washing machine hook-up, so our next big purchase is going to be a washing machine, after we recover from the purchase of the stroller. And, we have a large attic space with skylights, so we’re installing our own drying lines, cutting down on the madness.

However, until then, we have make do with what we have. The rush isn’t so mad anymore, as there is really no way to rush anything with a toddler. And since there is no sign-in sheet at this laundry room, I won’t be receiving any nasty grams if the laundry goes a little bit past sign-up time, or if I forget to clean out the lint tray and turn the water off. As for the lack of a dryer, my family will get used to the crunchy towels and stiff jeans.