Germany solves the problems of the first world

You know what's the worst? Like, actually, no exaggeration, the very worst thing that happens in the world? It's when you run out of shampoo before you run out of conditioner and then you either buy both and have an extra bottle of conditioner cluttering up the bathroom for weeks or you just buy shampoo and have to make an extra trip to the drugstore two days later when you run out of conditioner after all. That's the worst.

But you know who fixed that? The Germans. In Germany, they just make the shampoo bottles bigger than the conditioner bottles. Problem solved, world - you can go back to worrying about things like global poverty and child soldiers. See below and marvel. So simple, and yet...

Now you may say, "Calculating the perfect ratio of shampoo to conditioner is a fool's errand - there are too many factors to do it with any degree of accuracy for any significant proportion of the population." But I say, "Just because we may never achieve perfection, doesn't mean we shouldn't try. WHO'S WITH ME?"

Not content to blow my mind just once, the Germans also designed conditioner bottles that stand upside-down, so you don't have to try to figure out which identical bottle is shampoo and which is conditioner, squinting through the spray, ultimately shampooing your hair a third time, and living with the frizzy mess that ensues. And you know how conditioner tends to be thicker and sometimes you have trouble getting the last little bit out of the container? It solves that problem too! Seriously, people say "German engineering" so reverentially when they're talking about their BMWs and Mercedes, but check out these shampoo bottles and shut up about your Porsche!

The day of reckoning

Part of moving is rediscovering all the stuff you thought you would someday find a use for and coming to the realization that there never was one and that you're just a hoarder. For me, that meant finding these:

Now, some (most?) people would have just sighed and thrown them out. But others, with inquiring minds and an abundance of time, might decide to sort and count them and tabulate the results for... posterity? Sure! So, out of 183 Ritter Sport bars consumed by yours truly (with some assistance, I hope and presume) in the period between January 2011 and August 2012,

42 were Halbbitter*
41 were Marzipan
20 were Mousse au Chocolat
15 were Nougat
12 were Noisette
8 were Olympia
7 were Pfefferminz
7 were Amarena Kirsch, and
31 were something else (aka the lesser Ritter Sport flavours)

Would you like to see that represented as a pie chart? Of course you would!

Unfortunately there are some weaknesses in this study. I didn't save every wrapper - some were lost in transit. Some of the wrappers (and the chocolate they once contained) were won in bets, meaning that the contents did not accurately represent my preferences, but rather those of the bet loser. However, I think that the sample size is sufficient to compensate for the effects of these factors.

*Halbbitter chocolate therefore mathematically = the meaning of life.

Heaven on Earth

After you see the Fernsehturm and the Brandenburg Gate (or before - I'm not judging), you should probably head on over to Ritter Sport World.

You can buy Ritter Sport in the Schokoladen.

You can eat food and drink beverages made with Ritter Sport in the Schoko-café.

 

And you can learn things about Ritter Sport (like how they make it and why it's

called "Sport") in the little museum. So it's *cough* an educational trip.

Danzig through life

How do I like thee, Danzig? Let me count the ways:

I like your riverfront, especially at night, when the strollers have strolled home.

I like your graffiti, even if some of it is a little whiny.

I like your abandoned warehouses, even if I don't get to explore them because I don't fancy getting arrested in a country where I can't explain why they shouldn't arrest me.

 I like your rowhouses and I like imagining I live on all six floors of this one. 

I like how much these punks are enjoying this organ grinder and his parrot.

I like your impromptu art galleries.

I like this guy using an iPad as a camera (or at least I like laughing at him).

 I like how none of the buildings in your market square really "match",

but they still look awesome together.

And I like the fact that you can buy individual pickles in your supermarkets.

Om Nom Nom

A couple of days ago, I mentioned the best hot chocolate in Krakow. Now I hope you didn't think I was just going to leave you hanging without a detailed description and pictures. You know me better than that.

So, the best hot chocolate in Krakow is at a cafe called Nowa Prowincja and it's so chocolatey that they have to stir it constantly to keep it from congealing. To that end, it's kept in a vat with a paddle that rotates like a cement mixer.

When you order it, which you do because you have excellent taste, it comes out of the vat in a thick stream and then they top it with a dollop of whipped cream. And then you spoooooon it out of the cup because you can't drink it like normal hot chocolate because it isn't normal hot chocolate, it's like a cross between hot chocolate and chocolate mousse.

And that's the way (uh-huh uh-huh) I like it.

If it ain't broke

Every night (I'm extrapolating from the four nights I've been here, but I think that's legitimate), Krakow's main square plays host to a group of breakdancers. I am not a breakdance expert (somehow, despite the one class I took in grade 9), but they seem quite good. They're also funny. I think I might be in love with every single one of them. I've seen their whole act four times now and it doesn't change much, but that means it's always awesome! Look at these pictures really quickly and it will be almost like you're here!

Or you could just look at this gif. It's up to you.

The night bus

In my quest to discover Eastern Europe while staying in countries covered by my health care insurance, I set off to Poland Monday night. I always seem to book night buses (or trains! or planes!) when they're available, reasoning that I'll save money on accommodation and I'll probably be able to sleep just fine. RIGHT. Anyway, this particular night bus was full of Polish grandmas, their hand-embroidered throw pillows, and their sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. Cute!

The entertainment for the evening was an English movie "dubbed" into Polish. I say "dubbed" because all the voices were done by one person, a man, who apparently felt no need to match his voice to the lips onscreen or to sound angry when the characters were clearly angry.  It's surprisingly disconcerting to hear the same voice coming from the mouths of Adam Sandler, Salma Hayek, Chris Rock, and the guy who played Deuce Bigalow (male gigolo). Oh and they didn't bother to edit out the English voices, so the whole experience was most reminiscent of a foreign documentary or simultaneous translation at the UN. Compare this to Germany, where even the crappiest of movies are dubbed with the care and accuracy befitting a cinematic masterpiece and where the voice actors for the big Hollywood stars become rich and famous in their own right.*  But the lady next to me was loving it; she lol-ed all the way to the Polish border.

Anyway, 12 hours, three sandwiches, and one epic neck cramp later, I'm in Poland! It seems nice!

*This seems like an appropriate moment to mention that a former roommate of mine is now living with the German voice actor for George Clooney. Clearly she's moving up in the world.

What's in a name?

This is the Schöner Brunnen (Beautiful Fountain) one of the most famous sights in Nuremberg's Hauptmarkt (market square). It really is beautiful, albeit in a very, very ornate sort of way - apparently they weren't super into minimalism in the 14th century. It was encased in concrete during the Second World War, which is why it's still standing today even though 85% of Nuremberg's old town was leveled by Allied bombing raids.

There's a local legend that turning the brass ring set into the decorative iron fence will bring good luck, but this is clearly a trap because there are actually two rings. There's always a crowd of tourists standing in front of/having their picture taken with each ring and no one's ever been able to tell me for sure which one's the "right" one. And since the "wrong" one is said to make you pregnant, I figure it's better to just stay away from the rings altogether.

In the winter, it's a centrepiece of the world-renowned (WORLD-RENOWNED, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN) Nuremberg Christmas Market and looks particularly pretty all lit up.

Canada Tag

After a spectacular Canada Day last year (I climbed through a garden at the university to find and hug a maple tree and taught some friends to sing O Canada - a year later, they only remember the first two words and insist on singing them to the tune of O Tannenbaum), I decided to step things up with a red and white (Canadaaaaa!) wine party this year.

 Michi baked this cool cake!

 

 Some of us got maple leaf tattoos!

And some of us encouraged minors to drink, which I do not

condone and neither does Canada.

I also, of course, tied myself in knots trying to explain what exactly Canada Day celebrates. "Well, the signing of the British North America Act, of course. Well no, we still weren't really a country. Well no, the constitution happened a lot later. Well no, but it kind of made Canada a "thing", you know? Just have some more wine. MAPLE SYRUP."

In which we follow through

So there's this German supermarket chain called Aldi which, in addition to food, has a rotating selection of other allegedly useful stuff at very affordable prices. And what Aldi happens to be offering at very affordable prices has an embarrassingly large effect on my life. So, for example: Aldi will have barbecue stuff and I will buy it and plan a barbecue which I will never get around to inviting people to. Or Aldi will have gardening stuff and I will buy a couple of plants which I will kill within a week, rendering the leather gardening gloves which I also bought superfluous. It's a fantastic business model and the Aldi brothers are accordingly wealthy.

What I'm saying is that about a month ago, Aldi had bike stuff, so I bought a bike-repair kit and an extra inner tube and a bike computer. My friend Tim bought a book of bike tours through Bavaria and a plan was hatched. Our route would follow the Altmühl river from its source, through a string of picturesque German towns, until it joined the canal that connects the Rhine, the Main and the Danube.

It looks more impressive if you see it on a map of Germany. See? Oooooo.... ahhhhhhh...

It was 240 km in two days. But, except for the 2-km hill of death at the very beginning of the ride, it was mercifully flat. Biking with 35 pounds of luggage took some getting used to and some careful steering, but it did make us feel pretty badass.

I had my first Weisswurst (white sausage) breakfast on the second morning of the ride. Weisswurst breakfast is traditionally served with Weizen (unfiltered wheat beer), but I opted for something a little more conducive to continued cycling.

At night I slept in a yellow tent and it was like sleeping inside a sunbeam.

It was schöööön.

Pretzels and schnitzel and sauerkraut, oh my!

My American friend Catherine (hi Catherine!) from Mainz (aka where I lived my first year in Germany) sent me this link to a post about Bavarian food, and it's both accurate and funny. Go read it.

Yes, I have eaten everything on that list and yes, everything on that list is delicious. And yes, before anyone asks, I have given up even the pretense of partial vegetarianism for the duration of my stay in Germany. There is just too much delicious meat in this country.

I foolishly waited almost a year and a half in Germany before trying sauerkraut because, let's be honest: sauerkraut does not look appetizing, nor does it smell appetizing. But you shouldn't judge a pile of pickled cabbage by its cover, because proper German sauerkraut is the food of the gods. Hence, I give you the first commandment of foreign food:

Thou shalt first judge, when thou putteth a foreign foodstuff in thy mouth, cheweth, and swalloweth.

Obedience to this commandment is how I ended up eating a dried caterpillar a few weeks back, but that's a story for another time.

Addition

If I told you I liked Germany because of the Packstationen (What's a Packstation, you ask? Patience...), you might call me weird (or unique, if you were trying to be nice). But it's one of many little things I like about Germany, and those little things add up.

So, a Packstation is an ingenious mail-delivery device. If you're not home when your package is delivered, you get a delivery slip which directs you to a Packstation (on a street-corner near you), which looks like this:


Actually, usually they're a lot yellower. This one is an anomaly. There, you type in your number and sign your name on the touch screen and then a little door pops open and you get your package. Like this:

And then you're all like this:


I don't actually get to use the Packstationen anymore, because I live over a lovely shop where the owners accept my packages and smile at me when I go to pick them up. But they exist and that's enough.

German snow pants

Germans do not wear lederhosen and dirndls as often as you think (or would like to think). In fact, unless you're in Bavaria, they probably don't wear lederhosen or dirndls at all. Boooooooooooo. This is obviously a huge disappointment for people (no one in particular, I'm sure) who purchased a dirndl in hopes - nay, in expectation - of having many opportunities to wear it and, three years later, have never worn it.

But this happened.

This guy takes the cake. Literally: if I had had cake, I would have given it to him. Not that he needs it, because he's doing just fine.

This is such stuff as dreams are made on

Grillen is one of my favourite things about German summer. As soon as it's warm enough to sit outside in the evenings, most conversations seem to go like this: "Oh hey, what should we do tonight? I KNOW LET'S GRILL SOMETHING!" And judging by this find, this summer's going to be the best yet.

I feel like this is pretty self-explanatory.

Chocolate.
Fondue.
For the BBQ.

You get it. I'll keep you posted.

Long weekend to-do list

Colour (and hide and hunt for and eat) Easter eggs. Check, check, check, and check!

Reenact Titanic. Check!

Cuddle with taxidermied marmot. Check!

Run three-legged ski race. Check!


Make giant snowman. Check!


And ski a bit, of course. Check! See how my legs seem to be going in two different directions? Yeah, that happened a lot.