Wearing my hat, sunglasses, lipstick and favorite earrings while sitting in my convertible, I certainly do not feel like a woman pushing 50. Granted the new sunglasses have progressive lenses and the cap effectively covers my greying hair, but driving along with the top down just makes me feel young. Possibly others feel the same way because I can't help noticing that the majority of convertible drivers are closer to my age than not, but no matter, as soon as the first warm sun rays brighten the landscape, convertibles appear on the road like puddles after a rain. Every other car seems to have its roof open, allowing the sunshine to fill every inch of the vehicle.
Here in Germany we don't take the sun for granted, so when it shines, we go out to meet it. Where Americans turn on the AC, Germans throw open windows and head for the patio to sit outside and enjoy the warmth. Cafés and restaurents with outdoor seating overflow with customers looking to savor a meal or just some coffee and cake in the fresh air and sunshine. Clothes are hung outiside to dry and suddenly everybody seems to be working in their gardens. Granted, the temperatures here do not always match those of my native Virginia, but we have our share of hot and humid days, and we survive them without air conditioning in our homes. Instead we cleverly adjust the shutters and blinds to keep out the hot sun, and know that airing out the house early in the morning brings in fresh, cool air. The too warm nights can be trying, but sleeping with open windows and a fan humming do bring some relief
I like the German's take on fresh air and sunshine, and on this particular issue consider myself one of their own. Even though I am thankful that many cars (including my convertible) have AC, and each summer finds more businesses outfitted with a cooling unit, it is wonderful to experience all the outdoor activity during the warm months of the year. Pools and parks are magnets here, as opposed to my hometown in Virginia, where we practically have the local pool to ourselves on a visit in July. Plus there is always the risk of freezing to death on summer visits to the States. Heaven forbid I forget my sweaters for when we go to a restaurant or the movies, or even my parents' house. If Americans would turn down their thermostats just a little, they would not only save energy, but also not be so shocked when going outside. It is the difference in temperature that kills you, or at least gives you one heck of a cold.
Darn, I ragged so long on this subject that I missed the last sweet hours of sunshine. Macht nichts, they are calling for another beautiful day tomorrow.
Showing posts with label American. Show all posts
Showing posts with label American. Show all posts
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
What's in a name?
What's in a name? Alot. It is what we identify ourselves with, even if we were given the original by our parents. I've changed my name so often over the years, that even I wonder what I prefer to be called. It started way back in first grade, when the teacher insisted on calling me Katherine, although everyone else called me Kathy. Not yet being able to read, how was I supposed to know that the way I was spelling my name, with the "e" sound and the "e" letter at the end, was not my nickname, but my full name? I've always suspected one of my older siblings had shown me how to write those letters and was enjoying a laugh at my expense. At some point in elementary school I got that straightened out, only to decide in the fourth grade I wanted to be known as Katie. That worked out for a year, but then I just HAD to be Kathy again, and my friends graciously switched back to my former moniker. There was a long stretch, all the way through high school where I was content to stay with Kathy (except for one sweet soul who called me Katie until we graduated, and if I ever see her again, she probably still would!), but the going got tough at the end. One of my brothers married when I was in the eleventh grade, and his bride's name was Cathy, which would not have been a problem except that the young couple also lived with my parents as I did. My friends were somewhat confused when they called our house and were suddenly asked which Kathy they would like to speak to. It got worse -- when they were expecting their first child, the rumors were flying in our town that Kathy U. was pregnant, which was true, but not really -- it was the other Cathy U., the one who didn't spell the name right, that was going to have a baby, but try telling that to the school gossips.
Having been somewhat traumatized by this experience, I decided to go with my full name in college. Few people would know me from my former life, as I was going away to college, so this seemed a reasonable thing to do. As luck would have it, the woman picked to be my new roommate was also a Kathryn, so for my own sanity I held on to Kathy, along with seemingly dozens of other freshman at the college. It was a turbulent 4 years, one of which was spent in Germany on a Junior Year Abroad Program, and the friendship I already had with a certain young German man turned into much more and we married a few months after I graduated. Being a pretty traditional kind of person, and desperately wanting to move up in the alphabet, I took his last name and replaced my middle name with my maiden name, naively assuming that once I got all the official paperwork taken care of, this would be the name I used for the rest of my life.
It turns out not every country works with this system. We moved to Germany a year after our wedding and suddenly I had my former middle name back and my maiden name was only an addendum, though not by my choice. Germans are very particular about names (before naming a baby, parents have to run the choice by some government agency, I kid you not) and any first and middle names which appear on your birth certificate stay with you for life, at least on paper. So now I have the dubious honor of having two official names: the American one on my U.S. passport and the one the Germans have decided is correct, and never the twain shall meet. The Germans still insist I sign First, Middle, Last and I just as stubbornly maintain First, Maiden, Last so that I literally have had to present official paperwork as to why my signature is different on various forms.
Aside from the redtape, it really makes no huge difference in my life how my official name is recorded, but what I am actually called is a whole nother matter. Knowing Germans have a hard time with the "th" sound, and not particularly caring for "Kessy" as so many people called me when I was on the student exchange, I had the brillant idea of tweaking my name when we moved so that it sounded at least close to the real thing. Out of Katherine, I made Kathrin. Voilà, once again a new name. For many years the people at church and the local bookstore where I had a part-time job knew me only as Kathrin. These were places where I was on my own, and if I said my name was Kathrin, that is what people called me. With the increase of internet usage and yes, Facebook (where I am back to being Kathy so friends in the States can find me), my email address and FB page are confusing to those who know me as Kathrin. Once again the distorted versions from Kaaty to Ketty and the everpresent Kessy make me envy my husband, who has been known by the same first and last name all his life, on paper and in speaking.
These days I just sign everything K.
Having been somewhat traumatized by this experience, I decided to go with my full name in college. Few people would know me from my former life, as I was going away to college, so this seemed a reasonable thing to do. As luck would have it, the woman picked to be my new roommate was also a Kathryn, so for my own sanity I held on to Kathy, along with seemingly dozens of other freshman at the college. It was a turbulent 4 years, one of which was spent in Germany on a Junior Year Abroad Program, and the friendship I already had with a certain young German man turned into much more and we married a few months after I graduated. Being a pretty traditional kind of person, and desperately wanting to move up in the alphabet, I took his last name and replaced my middle name with my maiden name, naively assuming that once I got all the official paperwork taken care of, this would be the name I used for the rest of my life.
It turns out not every country works with this system. We moved to Germany a year after our wedding and suddenly I had my former middle name back and my maiden name was only an addendum, though not by my choice. Germans are very particular about names (before naming a baby, parents have to run the choice by some government agency, I kid you not) and any first and middle names which appear on your birth certificate stay with you for life, at least on paper. So now I have the dubious honor of having two official names: the American one on my U.S. passport and the one the Germans have decided is correct, and never the twain shall meet. The Germans still insist I sign First, Middle, Last and I just as stubbornly maintain First, Maiden, Last so that I literally have had to present official paperwork as to why my signature is different on various forms.
Aside from the redtape, it really makes no huge difference in my life how my official name is recorded, but what I am actually called is a whole nother matter. Knowing Germans have a hard time with the "th" sound, and not particularly caring for "Kessy" as so many people called me when I was on the student exchange, I had the brillant idea of tweaking my name when we moved so that it sounded at least close to the real thing. Out of Katherine, I made Kathrin. Voilà, once again a new name. For many years the people at church and the local bookstore where I had a part-time job knew me only as Kathrin. These were places where I was on my own, and if I said my name was Kathrin, that is what people called me. With the increase of internet usage and yes, Facebook (where I am back to being Kathy so friends in the States can find me), my email address and FB page are confusing to those who know me as Kathrin. Once again the distorted versions from Kaaty to Ketty and the everpresent Kessy make me envy my husband, who has been known by the same first and last name all his life, on paper and in speaking.
These days I just sign everything K.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Grocery shopping
I think my sister Mary is embarrassed to go grocery shopping with me when I am in the States. She says I am like a kid in a candy store, as I slowly go up and down the aisles, somewhat envious of all the foods she has at her local supermarket which are difficult for me to find in Germany (plus I am always trying to bag my own groceries as one does here). The funny thing is, most of the products I probably wouldn't touch if they were available in Germany. I try to stay away from foods like Fritos and Co. and since I am now vegetarian, my favorite Barbeque is out of the question. For years I would gorge on Oreos each time I returned, but since finding them here, I have dropped them into my shopping basket only once or twice as a gift for my kids. The list of goodies my boys are only able to enjoy during a stay in the States is shrinking too, as Mountain Dew, Jelly Beans and Swiss Miss have all entered the market here. At the risk of sounding like we eat nothing but junk foods, my family and I are somewhat lax about our diets for the few weeks we are visiting the States. It is telling however, that the American foods most poplular in Germany are generally the ones with very little nutritious value, and as I see the grocery store shelves in the States stocked with more and more prepared foods, I wonder how healthy these products really are?
Ofcourse one can find many foods and beverages packed with vitamins and minerals in American supermarkets. Sometimes I think too packed. Who knew we needed calcium in orange juice? Cereals and other foods have been fortified since I was a kid, but are these "functional foods" really good for us? Even the choice of milk is almost a lifestyle statement in the US -- I get a headache just trying to find the "normal" variety in the dairy section.
Oh dear, got off on a bit of a rant there. I'm very big on moderate eating and a healthy diet, and I tend to get quite adamant about it.
But back to the subject at hand. As the world gets smaller and smaller (not literally, but you know what I mean), some items that were once only available in Germany are now easily found in the US also. Imagine my surprise when I found that our special present from here -- the haselnut chocolate spread Nutella -- is now routinely stocked in Stateside stores. And one of my sisters-in-law just loves the German-brand muesli she gets at her favorite market in Northern Virginia. But what stunned us most was the first time we saw the German discount chain Aldi in New York; I only wonder if it has the same cult status it enjoys here. It is true, though, what goes around comes around -- last weekend at a gourmet store in Wiesbaden, I spied the "Swiss" cereal I loved as a child, marketed as an American specialty.
Nonetheless, we are still on the lookout for string cheese, Rice Krispies and Lucky Charms, so if anyone discovers them in the Rhein-Main area, please do tell!
Ofcourse one can find many foods and beverages packed with vitamins and minerals in American supermarkets. Sometimes I think too packed. Who knew we needed calcium in orange juice? Cereals and other foods have been fortified since I was a kid, but are these "functional foods" really good for us? Even the choice of milk is almost a lifestyle statement in the US -- I get a headache just trying to find the "normal" variety in the dairy section.
Oh dear, got off on a bit of a rant there. I'm very big on moderate eating and a healthy diet, and I tend to get quite adamant about it.
But back to the subject at hand. As the world gets smaller and smaller (not literally, but you know what I mean), some items that were once only available in Germany are now easily found in the US also. Imagine my surprise when I found that our special present from here -- the haselnut chocolate spread Nutella -- is now routinely stocked in Stateside stores. And one of my sisters-in-law just loves the German-brand muesli she gets at her favorite market in Northern Virginia. But what stunned us most was the first time we saw the German discount chain Aldi in New York; I only wonder if it has the same cult status it enjoys here. It is true, though, what goes around comes around -- last weekend at a gourmet store in Wiesbaden, I spied the "Swiss" cereal I loved as a child, marketed as an American specialty.
Nonetheless, we are still on the lookout for string cheese, Rice Krispies and Lucky Charms, so if anyone discovers them in the Rhein-Main area, please do tell!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Coffee
In the movie "Julie & Julia", the New Yorker puts on her pearls to cook, just as Julia Child did way back when. Just to get that same feeling of "really doing it" I decided to make myself some coffee to enjoy while writing and now I am ready to go. Granted it is decaffinated -- my nerves don't really tolerate any other-- but it is the sheer pleasure of a cup of joe while doing something creative. Plus I put on my pearls for good luck.
Anyway, today's topic is coffee, which is a culture unto itself here, and one of the most pleasant I might add. When someone invites you to afternoon coffee, it is generally not for a mug or two at the kitchen table while gossiping. Oh no, usually there is at least one cake (in a pinch, possibly even store-bought) and the polite guest brings flowers or a knick-knack for the hostess. Sunday afternoon is prime coffee time (truth be told, tea can be served too) and a full blown birthday party will often have such a selection of cakes, that you risk busting a button just by trying each one. Now that practically every household has some kind of fancy espresso machine, that has come into vogue for the obligatory espresso directly after a good meal, but even that has thankfully not replaced the traditional coffee hour, which is normally in the afternoon, sometime after the main meal.
And an hour it is, at least, generally several, as it takes time to eat all these good sweets. Homemade cookies are not commonly served, as baking cookies is reserved for the Advent Season (that will surely be a topic here one day too), but I have done my best to add brownies to the menu. Obviously I wasn't the only one spreading the good cheer, for when I first came, brownies were unheard of and it was impossible to get baking chocolate as used in the States. These days brownies are easily found in the grocery stores and bakeries, and recipes abound in baking books, but they don't really meet my standards, maybe because there is still no American baking chocolate to be found. Don't misunderstand me, I am definitely not complaining about the chocolate here (that heavenly confection! The Germans and Swiss really do know how to make that stuff!) but I need the real American product to make the real American brownies, so I ask visiting friends to stash it in their suitcases or I beg it off those with connections to the commissary. Of course I prefer not to eat the brownies myself, carefully preserving my calorie count for the other delicacies on the table. Unfortunately I almost never get up from a table of treats without having eaten at least one more piece than I meant to, regardless of how often I swear I am going to eat less...............
Anyway, today's topic is coffee, which is a culture unto itself here, and one of the most pleasant I might add. When someone invites you to afternoon coffee, it is generally not for a mug or two at the kitchen table while gossiping. Oh no, usually there is at least one cake (in a pinch, possibly even store-bought) and the polite guest brings flowers or a knick-knack for the hostess. Sunday afternoon is prime coffee time (truth be told, tea can be served too) and a full blown birthday party will often have such a selection of cakes, that you risk busting a button just by trying each one. Now that practically every household has some kind of fancy espresso machine, that has come into vogue for the obligatory espresso directly after a good meal, but even that has thankfully not replaced the traditional coffee hour, which is normally in the afternoon, sometime after the main meal.
And an hour it is, at least, generally several, as it takes time to eat all these good sweets. Homemade cookies are not commonly served, as baking cookies is reserved for the Advent Season (that will surely be a topic here one day too), but I have done my best to add brownies to the menu. Obviously I wasn't the only one spreading the good cheer, for when I first came, brownies were unheard of and it was impossible to get baking chocolate as used in the States. These days brownies are easily found in the grocery stores and bakeries, and recipes abound in baking books, but they don't really meet my standards, maybe because there is still no American baking chocolate to be found. Don't misunderstand me, I am definitely not complaining about the chocolate here (that heavenly confection! The Germans and Swiss really do know how to make that stuff!) but I need the real American product to make the real American brownies, so I ask visiting friends to stash it in their suitcases or I beg it off those with connections to the commissary. Of course I prefer not to eat the brownies myself, carefully preserving my calorie count for the other delicacies on the table. Unfortunately I almost never get up from a table of treats without having eaten at least one more piece than I meant to, regardless of how often I swear I am going to eat less...............
Saturday, April 10, 2010
A New Day, A New Blog
Last night, Chris and I watched the movie Julie & Julia about a woman in New York City in 2002 who cooks her way through Julia Child's 1961 book Mastering the Art of French Cooking, blogging all the while. Not only did I enjoy watching Meryl Streep in her element as Julia Child (although I could have skipped some of the cooking scenes, as I don't eat meat and it was waaaay too much butter for me!), I also once again felt that urge to get up and write myself. The idea Julie Powell had, to write about her experience preparing all the recipes in Julia's bestseller was genius and I can not suppose that anything I do could compare, but still that old feeling of "if she can do it, so can I" got me, so here I am this morning trying to get a new blog project off the ground. And I even have my own theme, the one I've always wanted to actually write a book about: living inbetween. This idea started out as me, an American in Germany, somewhat caught "inbetween" the two cultures, but the thoughts ripened in my mind to include so many other topics, thus giving me license to write about more or less anything. Clever, huh? And when the spirit moves me to record something that can not even be remotely linked to anything "inbetween", I think I'll write about that too, just for the heck of it.
But there has to be a structure here, otherwise I will have trouble squeezing blog time into my day. And a goal, to make it worth doing. The other goal I set for myself – to write my autobiography by the time I am 50 – does not look like it is happening, even if there still is over one and a half years until that ominous date. So here's the new deal: I will blog 5 times a week until 22. September, 2010, my 49th birthday, and see how things are going at that point. Who knows, maybe by then I'll have a start for my book, or at least a lot of practice working on it.
Oh no, there it is, the oven timer, telling me I need to get off the computer so I can go take some flowers to Frau Jung for her birthday. Sigh. Just when I am getting going, it is time to stop, but I will be back tomorrow, hopefully full of words to add to my new blog.
But there has to be a structure here, otherwise I will have trouble squeezing blog time into my day. And a goal, to make it worth doing. The other goal I set for myself – to write my autobiography by the time I am 50 – does not look like it is happening, even if there still is over one and a half years until that ominous date. So here's the new deal: I will blog 5 times a week until 22. September, 2010, my 49th birthday, and see how things are going at that point. Who knows, maybe by then I'll have a start for my book, or at least a lot of practice working on it.
Oh no, there it is, the oven timer, telling me I need to get off the computer so I can go take some flowers to Frau Jung for her birthday. Sigh. Just when I am getting going, it is time to stop, but I will be back tomorrow, hopefully full of words to add to my new blog.
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