I'm heading off to Phoenix tomorrow for a Jewish-filled Holiday with candles, latkes and other tasty treats. So I thought I'd wish a very merry Christmas, happy Hanukah and cheery New Year to everyone. We're on three continents right now (Lizette in South America, Britta in Europe and Me in North America) but still the Trio love lives.
Lizette, enjoy Christmas in Peru! Glad all the pre-holiday events went well!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
The nature of travel
After being gone for over ten years, visiting occasionally to catch up with family, my country doesn’t seem to be my country anymore. It is an odd feeling altogether, everything seems so familiar yet everything is strange to me now.
I still feel home here but in a disconnected way. I know how German works but I do not work German anymore.
Each visit becomes a great philosophical journey.
Now that I have an outside vantage point I can observe objectively, amazed and fascinated by the culture that I was a part for the first 22 years of my life.
At the same time I can reflect on the society that I belong to now. Listening to my friends, by passers on the streets, people in coffee shops sipping their Milchkaffee, discussing life, I get an outside view on my American me. I get so startled by the lack of insight or critical thinking I observe in myself at times. I find it frightening when I notice myself oversee vital arguments that I should have made when we talked this over months ago at home.
This really is the beauty of travel: it gives you the opportunity to shed day to day life and habits, enables you to step out of old patterns and gain new insights on yourself, your life and the society you live in as well as the society you are temporarily part of on your passage.
On a lighter note, there are the small scale oddities in behavior and action, mostly charming, that one encounters on travel:
Like Lizette marvels at the ordeal of facing a 5-locked South American door, Europeans find it extremely odd that the American check is put, quite indiscreetly, on the table just minutes after the main course arrives.
It is a well known fact that the Germans get up at the crack of dawn to throw their towels on the deck chairs of the hotel pool, thereby supposedly reserving the seat, returning after a follow up snooze and breakfast to claim their prime real estate, finding a bunch of pissed off Brits standing by the pool for lack of available seating.
The number of greeting cheek kisses in France is three, in Italy two (or the other way around - I will never learn, forgive me France and Italy), Germans don’t kiss at all, Irish hug. The list goes on...
On my last visit here I learned that Germans are immune to fatness. Paul and I made it our hobby to count the number of pastry eating Germans at any given time. It came out to about 80% of Germans snacking away their day. But hardly anybody is overweight, probably because everybody is walking everywhere. Walking is big here.
Evidence is hardening that the service industry is not about service in (North) Germany. I have been suspecting this for years dealing with extremely unfriendly sales personnel in stores, rude waiters and difficult public transport vehicle operators like bus drivers.
When I was a kid I was convinced that the local tram driver was determined to overtake the tram ahead of him.
On this visit, I learned that taxi business is not about taxiing:
If your ride is in any way walkable, think twice before hitting dial on your phone!!
They may ask you straight away where you are and where you are heading and if they deem your ride not worthy the comfort of a hired automobile on this frosty night because you may make on foot, they will eat you right there, lecturing you on the atrocity of your humble request: How dare you even think about wasting their precious time, have you no sense at all? Just because they get paid for it doesn't mean they need to take your shit. Clearly, you should chose to struggle your way home manually in the oncoming blizzard after a hard days work (ok, that's my sister, not me)!! This is an outrage, an insult at large to the very core of taxihood!!!
And if they don't ask you right away, god help you deal with the monster of a cab driver that you will have on your hands when he finds out where you are trying to get him to take you.
He may just tell you to get lost and speed off into the dark, shouting abuse out of the window, manically honking his horn in much exaggerated anger.
Now, that did not happen at all to us last night. Indeed, we chatted to a lovely lady filling us in on the latest Hamburg celebrity gossip.
But just the fear on my sisters face, phone in hand, ready to dial a cab, told me that things could have taken a different turn...
Seems to me that services here try their best not to provide the service they boldly claim to offer.
And how I love it all :-)
I still feel home here but in a disconnected way. I know how German works but I do not work German anymore.
Each visit becomes a great philosophical journey.
Now that I have an outside vantage point I can observe objectively, amazed and fascinated by the culture that I was a part for the first 22 years of my life.
At the same time I can reflect on the society that I belong to now. Listening to my friends, by passers on the streets, people in coffee shops sipping their Milchkaffee, discussing life, I get an outside view on my American me. I get so startled by the lack of insight or critical thinking I observe in myself at times. I find it frightening when I notice myself oversee vital arguments that I should have made when we talked this over months ago at home.
This really is the beauty of travel: it gives you the opportunity to shed day to day life and habits, enables you to step out of old patterns and gain new insights on yourself, your life and the society you live in as well as the society you are temporarily part of on your passage.
On a lighter note, there are the small scale oddities in behavior and action, mostly charming, that one encounters on travel:
Like Lizette marvels at the ordeal of facing a 5-locked South American door, Europeans find it extremely odd that the American check is put, quite indiscreetly, on the table just minutes after the main course arrives.
It is a well known fact that the Germans get up at the crack of dawn to throw their towels on the deck chairs of the hotel pool, thereby supposedly reserving the seat, returning after a follow up snooze and breakfast to claim their prime real estate, finding a bunch of pissed off Brits standing by the pool for lack of available seating.
The number of greeting cheek kisses in France is three, in Italy two (or the other way around - I will never learn, forgive me France and Italy), Germans don’t kiss at all, Irish hug. The list goes on...
On my last visit here I learned that Germans are immune to fatness. Paul and I made it our hobby to count the number of pastry eating Germans at any given time. It came out to about 80% of Germans snacking away their day. But hardly anybody is overweight, probably because everybody is walking everywhere. Walking is big here.
Evidence is hardening that the service industry is not about service in (North) Germany. I have been suspecting this for years dealing with extremely unfriendly sales personnel in stores, rude waiters and difficult public transport vehicle operators like bus drivers.
When I was a kid I was convinced that the local tram driver was determined to overtake the tram ahead of him.
On this visit, I learned that taxi business is not about taxiing:
If your ride is in any way walkable, think twice before hitting dial on your phone!!
They may ask you straight away where you are and where you are heading and if they deem your ride not worthy the comfort of a hired automobile on this frosty night because you may make on foot, they will eat you right there, lecturing you on the atrocity of your humble request: How dare you even think about wasting their precious time, have you no sense at all? Just because they get paid for it doesn't mean they need to take your shit. Clearly, you should chose to struggle your way home manually in the oncoming blizzard after a hard days work (ok, that's my sister, not me)!! This is an outrage, an insult at large to the very core of taxihood!!!
And if they don't ask you right away, god help you deal with the monster of a cab driver that you will have on your hands when he finds out where you are trying to get him to take you.
He may just tell you to get lost and speed off into the dark, shouting abuse out of the window, manically honking his horn in much exaggerated anger.
Now, that did not happen at all to us last night. Indeed, we chatted to a lovely lady filling us in on the latest Hamburg celebrity gossip.
But just the fear on my sisters face, phone in hand, ready to dial a cab, told me that things could have taken a different turn...
Seems to me that services here try their best not to provide the service they boldly claim to offer.
And how I love it all :-)
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Germans BeGone
This morning I dropped Britta off at the Flyaway bus in Westwood that will take her to LAX. So for the next two weeks we'll be German-free! Britta will be home in Rostock, refreshing her impatience, organizational skills and other German qualities, so we'll be seriously in trouble when she returns.
Until then, I'm in charge of this blog! Muahahahahahahahaha! Let the zaniness begin!
Until then, I'm in charge of this blog! Muahahahahahahahaha! Let the zaniness begin!
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Sat night at the Getty
http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
Woah, I am not feeling my writing vibe today:
nice sunset in the staff quarters (for quietness sake), cheese, bread and trimmings for dinner overlooking the west side of town, fog rolling in and the night sky looking somewhat like a Aorora Borealis, fine company and fine art...
Thursday, November 20, 2008
BUSTED!! (Nov 15)
Mid November in LA, it is 20 degrees above average and the fires are raging. As we are nearing downtown, we can see the thick cloud of smoke rising above Orange County.
Brentt and I are on the way to Linkoln Park’s largest thrift store to meet up with Michael and Amy who have been protesting the passing of a controversial proposition of the last presidential election.
After shouting things like: “Hey hey, ho ho, that bigotry has got to go” for the past two hours they are now ready for retail therapy. Michael needs shirts and I am glad to provide second hand guidance, he is a first timer and this is my territory.
Three hours, two thrift stores, three shirts and a pair of pants later we are back home for pasta dinner and a chill out before heading out into LA underground night life.
Downtown LA is littered with warehouses, perfect venues for noisy after hour parties. Tonight’s is an old time favorite with the trio, not so much for the music but for the people and the vibe they bring.
I say: “Music super cheesy but quirkyness levels of attendees unsurpassed. Entertainment value: excellent”.
Myke says: “Music awesome but pretentious “Burner” vibe puts downspin on fun”.
Just goes to show, flavors are a matter of taste.
The four of us get there just in time for the party to liven up. We find hiding spots for our coats, go to the bathroom, look at the two huge snakes in the terrarium under the bar and start dancing… blinded by the bright ceiling lights that just went on when the music went off and about 10 police officers start walking around telling everyone to clear out.
Ah well, if you charge a bunch of costumed hip(pies)ters to get into a warehouse without liquor license intending to serve such up to all illegal hours you gotta count on being busted as one possible outcome…
Not tired we head to my old hood for a night time walk with view of down town.
Back at home, we relax in the kitchen with some chai and good talking until finally, tiredness sets in...
Sunday serves a lovely scrambled egg breakfast, well Britta does, a lot of coffee and more sitting around, this time in the shaded beautiful yard.
Conversation topics range far and include world politics, depression, sickness and disease, the meaning of life
and
an actual interview for the position of mini Asian:
The interviewers Dr. Spiegelman, Prof. Newman and Ms Daudert are impressed by the ambition and determination of the interviewee, Ms Goodwin. She proves to have recent experience in racial portrayal, taking on the task of being Mexican for a summer. She also willing to look hungrily at passing dogs and train hard to start hating carrots and mushrooms.
The panel decided to offer a temporary internship to the candidate with a re-evaluation for a full-time position of Brit-Nerd, scheduled at the time of return of the real( and really irreplaceable) mini Asian.
Brentt and I are on the way to Linkoln Park’s largest thrift store to meet up with Michael and Amy who have been protesting the passing of a controversial proposition of the last presidential election.
After shouting things like: “Hey hey, ho ho, that bigotry has got to go” for the past two hours they are now ready for retail therapy. Michael needs shirts and I am glad to provide second hand guidance, he is a first timer and this is my territory.
Three hours, two thrift stores, three shirts and a pair of pants later we are back home for pasta dinner and a chill out before heading out into LA underground night life.
Downtown LA is littered with warehouses, perfect venues for noisy after hour parties. Tonight’s is an old time favorite with the trio, not so much for the music but for the people and the vibe they bring.
I say: “Music super cheesy but quirkyness levels of attendees unsurpassed. Entertainment value: excellent”.
Myke says: “Music awesome but pretentious “Burner” vibe puts downspin on fun”.
Just goes to show, flavors are a matter of taste.
The four of us get there just in time for the party to liven up. We find hiding spots for our coats, go to the bathroom, look at the two huge snakes in the terrarium under the bar and start dancing… blinded by the bright ceiling lights that just went on when the music went off and about 10 police officers start walking around telling everyone to clear out.
Ah well, if you charge a bunch of costumed hip(pies)ters to get into a warehouse without liquor license intending to serve such up to all illegal hours you gotta count on being busted as one possible outcome…
Not tired we head to my old hood for a night time walk with view of down town.
Back at home, we relax in the kitchen with some chai and good talking until finally, tiredness sets in...
Sunday serves a lovely scrambled egg breakfast, well Britta does, a lot of coffee and more sitting around, this time in the shaded beautiful yard.
Conversation topics range far and include world politics, depression, sickness and disease, the meaning of life
and
an actual interview for the position of mini Asian:
The interviewers Dr. Spiegelman, Prof. Newman and Ms Daudert are impressed by the ambition and determination of the interviewee, Ms Goodwin. She proves to have recent experience in racial portrayal, taking on the task of being Mexican for a summer. She also willing to look hungrily at passing dogs and train hard to start hating carrots and mushrooms.
The panel decided to offer a temporary internship to the candidate with a re-evaluation for a full-time position of Brit-Nerd, scheduled at the time of return of the real( and really irreplaceable) mini Asian.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Downtown Art Walk
This past Thursday we decided to go to the art walk downtown. We (Ayren, Eric, Cassanna, Lindha, Souri, Britta, Susanne, Amy [our English Lizette replacement] and I ) met at Susanne's place downtown, had wine and cheese and then set off to the art walk, which is just a short walk from Susanne's loft, with Brentt meeting us along the way. Amazingly enough, when we got there, the streets were PACKED, and with hipsters rather than homeless people. We meandered among the streets, darting into different galleries and cafes to check out the art, and being entertained by singing drag queens in one of the spaces (and they were pretty talented!).
The best thing we found was a table set with marshmellows, chocolate sauce, strawberries and bananas. You could eat the food with a camera trained on you that projected your mouth eating up on a big screen so everyone could watch. Britta and Amy volunteered me to do it, so I obliged. I'm sure it was incredibly SEXY!!!
After the art walk we wandered back to Susanne's and ate a tasty yet random dinner of Chinese food, Ayren's famous pasta salad, tasty German cookies and other delightful things, accompanied by more wine. We hung out for a bit more, then escorted Britta back to her car through a thicket of homeless men, and headed home.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
A nothing weekend
A Speegly needed cheering up after an extremely rough week at work, a social hike and a dinner were canceled and a Britta supered her way out to the west side for some irratable jew handling on Saturday afternoon.
Finally, the Jew could retaliate and pay back with some prime moodiness and the German was ready to be at the receiving end for once after all those friends-to-the-rescue-when-Britta-in-mess moments of the last year.
So, the German and the Jew spend one of the most uneventful weekends together. In the words of the Spiegel:
"So as far as I can remember, here's what we did this weekend: ate an overly expensive dinner and breakfast, got mild food poisoning, drank wine, didn't get enough sleep and sat around watching television. And yet somehow I had a lot of fun. It's great that we can go out to party together and have a great time, but in a way it's even better that we can do absolutely nothing and STILL have a really good time. "
...
Sometimes doing nothing is doing all...
Finally, the Jew could retaliate and pay back with some prime moodiness and the German was ready to be at the receiving end for once after all those friends-to-the-rescue-when-Britta-in-mess moments of the last year.
So, the German and the Jew spend one of the most uneventful weekends together. In the words of the Spiegel:
"So as far as I can remember, here's what we did this weekend: ate an overly expensive dinner and breakfast, got mild food poisoning, drank wine, didn't get enough sleep and sat around watching television. And yet somehow I had a lot of fun. It's great that we can go out to party together and have a great time, but in a way it's even better that we can do absolutely nothing and STILL have a really good time. "
...
Sometimes doing nothing is doing all...
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Dia de los muertos
It's Halloween weekend.
It's raining, raining buckets, finally.
Brentt, Myke, Bones and I are sitting in the car at the trail head trying to decide whether to wimp out or get soaked. We go for option two and start our hike up Bailey Canyon. It's gorgeous, with views onto downtown, century city and even the ocean when the sun decides to poke a weary ray through the thick carpet of clouds to reflect on the water for a second.
Thai noodles for dinner, quick snooze on the sofa for Myke and we are off to Hollywood to honor the dead in a Mexican fashion.
“… is a holiday celebrated mainly in Mexico and by people of Mexican heritage (and others) living in the United States and Canada The holiday focuses on gatherings of family and friends to pray for and remember friends and relatives who have died…”
The venue is the Hollywood forever cemetery,
“…the final resting place to more of Hollywood’s founders and stars than anywhere else on earth. Founded in 1899, the cemetery was an integral part of the growth of early Hollywood. Paramount Studios was built on the back half of the original Hollywood Cemetery, where the studio is still in operation today.”
Getting there is a bitch because it is Hollywood. Parking there is a bigger bitch because it is Hollywood. And if you happen to be vegetarian like Myke, the biggest bitch is walking Santa Monica Blvd towards the cemetery gate because it is a Mexican holiday. As such, naturally, it calls for Hispanic street vendors, tightly packed along the side walk, one after the next, desperately trying to sell their dried up Mexican hot dogs. And if it’s not smelly hot dogs, it’s glow sticks and even pacifiers. What are rave toys doing at a grave yard party??
Anyway, the line into the cemetery is moving fast and for $5 you get to see a whole load of private, mostly very intricately build and involved altars, a bunch of latin shows on various stages throughout the park, street parades with weirdly costumed dancers and, a regular at any public event: vending, a lot of it, too.
It’s always about shopping. Shopping and eating.
Well, there is the cemetery to look at. If you go, find Johnny Ramones grave.
It is so cheesy as to reverse back to cool…
Primordial Grooves 10-25
The magic …
…is the
And, let’s not forget about the meteor shower and the beautiful and very yellow sickle moon rising at
The magicians
I’ll cover my bases first (as if I had any): if I forget to mention anybody/thing mentionable, please forgive me (reminder: memory= flimsy). I will accept strongly worded letters starting tomorrow for a limited time only.
Andrew, Armando, Gabriel: “It was so good, even Britta liked it”. Thank you for the music, the line-up, even more, the line-up timing. You are awesome! I’ll always be your super-groupie unless you stop having fun. Which you never will.
Treavor, I heard about the mt times when the dj managed to drop just at the time when the first ray touches your face. Couldn’t have been a better time for me to see it!
I am gonna stop naming names here and just say to all others: thanks for awesome music, I danced my a… off.
Rob, as always, Mr.VJ-tastic. That was quite an impressive show!
I was thinking of a DJ booth in the car, I came to find Greensector’s decos, shade, tikis and even some
stallagtites disguised as penises!!
Next thing I’ll do is get some extra $$ out of the bank because these guys did not even break even.
The audience
Well behaved, well rounded, well everything! What more can I say other then:
You are amazing. Thank you all for taking me away, letting me let loose and finally get things in perspective again.
It’s not only the desert, it’s really mainly you all being out there being yourselves. The desert is dessert, you are the main course!
Wow, hold on, this is me being cheesy, scary?
But, …
… 10 minus point for not bringing a hatchet to crack the breakfast coconut!!!
What a crime. Pretty much ruined my weekend. Thanks for nothing duuudes J
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
10-19, Sunday fun in Venice
Well, it was one of those relaxing Sundays: lunch, walk the board walk, more food, coffee.
Here are some pics to prove it.
Monday, October 13, 2008
All of Us in San Diego
We miss you Lizette! Here's a picture of us in San Diego a couple of weeks ago, the end of a long and fun-filled weekend. Obviously we are one small Asian short of a really good time, but it was still lots of fun.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Guess who's who!
It's the first bi-weekly mid-week potluck get together without Lizette.
As we are sitting here in Britta and Nancy's magic garden, eating our favorite childhood foods, Bones licking every one's feet, Norton chomping away on some Swiss chard, the Sierra Madre "squirrels" chomping away on the living room furniture, coyotes howling in the hills...
we are wondering if you, Lizette, may already have started forgetting about us?
So, we devised this little test to test your true devotion to us.
Each one of us will write one sentence and you will have to guess who's here tonight and who's who.
Here we go:
1) Mmmh, Christmas Jew. If only it were Christmas...
2) I didn't bring my own childhood favorite food but I brought Britta's favorite dish: myself!
3) Burning Man would have been better if we had pickles!
4) There's no drum n bass on this computer. None!! What's up with that?
5) OH.MY.GOD. You are such a good embellisher.
6) You are not my type either.
7) Whoa! Something happened!
8) Ibi mibiss yibou.
9) I didn't bring my own childhood favorite food but I brought Lizette's favorite dish...!
Here we go...
For you, Lizette,
I will overcome my blogaphobia and deliver to you, for rainy days and nostalgic moments,
SuBrisLABlogForLizette.
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