Ablogagies

Dear blog,

I am so sorry to have been ignoring you. I feel so bad. I cannot even look into your big bloggy eyes anymore.  Oh, come on. Quit looking at me like that! I've just been under an avalanche of work and had an earthquake of life changes, that's all. Mommy still loves you!

Funny how, when nothing's going on, I have plenty of time to tell you all about it. You know I'm having real adventures when you hear absolutely nothing from me.

Well, the good news is, I look forward to reviving you soon. This time, I hope to strike the right balance of leisure and adventure.

I love you.



Quit looking at me like that.

-Anna

So f&%#!ing busy

Dear Spill,

I am so sorry to have been ignoring you. I have been pouring every single iota of human effort into staying alive, making deadlines at my new job (yes, it's going great, thanks), not allowing the ol' account to dip into the red zone as I wait for that first full paycheck, moving in (pictures soon, I promise!) and passing World Politics and (boredom central) Microeconomics. It seems like every day there's some new crisis to be averted, something I forgot at work, a new bill to pay, a debt I didn't know I had, a call I forgot to return.

I can't wait to be finished with school. It is such a drag, and all it does is get in the way. Oh, and a certain someone is coming from Germany for a month but I don't have any time, so I guess he'll have to entertain himself until Thanksgiving break.

Even with all of this, I am SO, SO grateful for my beautiful apartment, so happy to have my Arts Editor job, and even though I am really poor now I am so extremely glad I went to Germany for a year, if only to have danced until morning properly, met Mirjam and Erich and Micha, read Kafka in the original language, to have lived in a house with a Klingel, reveled in the joys of public transport, divided my waste into like 15 different receptacles, experienced the madness, the agony, and the ecstasy that is World Cup fever, and shocked the socks off a lot of middle-aged women in the German Hygiene Museum by saying I got up at 9 most mornings.

But yeah, sorry I'm so out of touch these days. Here, keep yourself busy with a New Times. 

Love,

Anna

Housed, for real this time

I have good news to impart: I got that apartment! What apartment? You know, that one, the dream one, the one! (I don't tell you guys about things I am hoping for anymore until after they're finalized, otherwise things get jinxed and nothing works out and my blog becomes a sort of memorial to my failures.) I can't tell you exactly where the new apartment is because it's so ridiculously public, being right above a shop downtown.

...Just know that when you're strolling through the city center, I am above you, watching, wondering why it doesn't occur to anyone to look up. When you are going out for a cup of coffee I am soaking in the tub several feet above and to the left of you. And when you are bar-hopping, your drunken cries will shape the plot of my dreams. That's all!

And it's gorgeous too. Don't think I mentioned that. Pics to come. Obviously!

Eviction party!

Back to square one!! Anyone want to rent to a hard-working, book-reading, fridge-cleaning, VCR-rewinding, gin-drinking writer/insomniac/German enthusiast with excellently bad taste? Here I am.

Yep, it's official. I was just nicely asked to leave, to accommodate landlady's niece with boyfriend "drama." So much for putting down roots, so much for decorating, cleaning the fridge, acquiring household investment pieces, so much for picking out succulents. So much for the effort that went into looking for a home, the endless meeting of people and being nice, so much for moving my cheap folding furniture in a Radio Flyer wagon and having everyone honk at me. I'm back on the mean streets. So if you have a hot housing tip, let me know.

P.S. !!!***Act now and I will throw in some FREE espresso snobbery at no extra charge***!!! AMAZING OFFER WON'T LAST CALL NOW

...Or have I been reading too many Craigslist postings lately?

Eviction waffles

Did I really type the words "now that I am on top of everything...?" Was that really yesterday? Well, I obviously was missing some information, such as:

Thing 1

My roommate's sister is having boyfriend drama, therefore I might get evicted. WHAT? Well, my roommate Essie's sister Ginny used to live in the room I currently rent. (She's the one who left the pile-o-shit in front of my entrance.) She moved out to live with her boyfriend. Things aren't going too well with the bf, so now she wants to move back in. Key piece of info: Essie and Ginny's aunt is our landlady. To make things worse, my stay in this room is made bearable only by the fact that the room is slated to receive a professional makeover this Friday. But now that I am on eviction standby, I have been advised not to make any changes to the room.

To complicate things further, I have friends coming into town from Washington, D.C. the weekend after scheduled room makeover. I was counting on having a nice, inviting place by then, but it looks like it's just going to stay the stinkhole room that it is, with the rank ashtray-smelling carpet laid over cement and the giant holes/stains gracing the walls.

Not to mention I just cleaned the fridge, swept, mopped, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom, dusted, made the windows see-through again, took the towels to the laund-o, scraped the caked-on food from the stove top and scrubbed the soap scum and rust from the shower. (I did all of this before school in the morning or after work at night.) Just trying to pitch in. What was the damn point in that then?

To make matters worse, I received this alarming information via text message as I was on my way to class and my battery was dying, so there was no way to call Essie and actually talk about it.  I was intending to just speak to her at the house before work but then...

Thing 2


When I stopped off at work on the way home from school to get some coffee, I was informed that my coworker for the night (currently in Australia) didn't get his last shift covered. There was no one to work the shift with me. It was starting in an hour and I was working it...alone. What's worse, it wasn't just any shift which I might have been able to handle; it was Waffle Night, which is by far the most demanding and, in my opinion, needs three workers at least. I spent my free hour making calls from the work phone and trying to get someone to help me. I got a lot of "Ohh, I can do 7 to 9.30..." but no one would work the full shift with me at such short notice. Guess who filled in? My sister, Heather!

Did I mention my sister just got hired at Linnaea's?? I mean literally just got hired days before? She had not done any training but since she and I have been working in coffee shops together since the dawn of time, we figured we would wing it, and we did. 

By the way, usually trainees start by doing a half shift at a slow time, like Sunday afternoon, and someone takes them by the hand and guides them through everything and makes it nice for them, saying, "Now this is called 'espresso.'"

Well, that's not exactly the initiation Heather got. Linnaea's on Waffle Night is scary. However, we pulled through, served a million damn customized waffles, and were out of there before 1 a.m., which is better than the trained employees sometimes do. 

There was no time for dinner that night and since my sister is allergic to wheat and couldn't even nibble on waffles, I felt awful and took her to Mexican afterwards.

So then it was after 1 a.m. when I got home, so no chance to have a chat with the roomies tonight re: looming threat of eviction. Tomorrow maybe, if I get a free moment. I am scheduled to work tomorrow with nobody again, so that will be an adventure.

Only sustaining thoughts:

1. 5 more shifts until no more shift work. And no more food service. Ever. I LOVE Linnaea's but...
2. San Louie liked my child leash article; Ashley said it was "genius" and she "couldn't be more honored" to print it in her magazine. That was nice.

...just the Spill

Back in New York, I accidentally poured coffee on my new vintage* pants, and an idea was born. When I yelped in double unhappiness (stain + hot coffee on self), Rochelle asked, "What's wrong?" And I grumbled, "Nothing, just the &^$%?!ing daily spill." Something about that resonated with me. The Daily Spill. The Daily Spill, with your host, Anna Weltner. I commented that it would make a good blog name. I had just moved back from Germany and I was thinking of changing up my blog anyway to reflect the changes I was experiencing.

I kept this in mind, but soon got distracted with work, house-hunting, writing, and school. But now I am on top of everything again, and my life is taking yet another turn with my new Arts Editor gig, so the time is right! But I can't be the daily spill because then you guys would have to read my scribbles every day, and what's worse, I'd have to scribble them every day! So I am just the Spill. Welcome to the Spill! Now back to you in the studio.


Author's notes:

1. 'New vintage' is not an oxymoron, it refers to the newly acquired vintage slacks I spilled on. 
2. The stain came out in the wash. 

Breaking news

Last post, I hinted vaguely that something incredible had happened. Well, it has: I got the job!!
What job? Häää?
Well, I didn't go on and on about it this time, afraid too much hot air would blow the delicate possibility away, or like the Establishment saga, that I would update everyone on the application process and then have them asking me about it later when it didn't get in. (But applying at the Estab is kinda like running for President; you sort of have to let everyone know about it to run a successful campaign.)
Another reason was related to my current job. Everyone I hang out with is connected to Linnaea's in some way, and if I were to mention that I was job-hunting, the news might get ahead of me. 
So, I kept it largely quiet.
However, now that I have received a solid offer, I can share the good tidings with you:

I'm the new Arts Editor of New Times!  
The full-time position entails writing arts features every week and editing the content of the Arts section as well as attending plays, concerts, art openings and mingling with the local arts community. I will be following in the footsteps of the great Ashley Schwellenbach, (now Managing Editor) and they are rather large steps.
Looks like I can't describe myself as an unemployed writer anymore.
I can't believe a few months ago I was posting this:

Sunday, May 9, 2010:

The lethargy and sense of despairing pointlessness I have recently been experiencing came to a head today...The work I do goes in the same category as the work I don't do: unnoticed. 

I want a real job so bad it hurts, but I can't make that a reality. I want more than anything to work for a magazine. (I am hilariously bad at most things, but writing is not one of them.) But when and where do I get to use my talent? 

Hot damn, that is depressing stuff. (Bear in mind I was an unnoticed, unpaid PR intern in Erfurt while every other expat journalist I knew seemed to be living it up in the city, owning the airwaves of  Deutsche Welle or exposing scandals in the Catholic church over at SPIEGEL Online.)
Well, those days are over, folks. I'm a full time writer/editor now! Real job! No one can stand stop me now!

Left at the burned frat house....

Okay, so IDPEM has been really busy lately. This post has been in drafts since the day I moved in. Inappropriately, this writer, blogger and late-night streamer of Firefly moved into a house sans internet. WHAT? I know. This post was drafted by stealing the City-County Library's WiFi while draining the last of my Eeee!! PC's finite battery supply while waiting at the bus stop. Ghetto. This is as far as I got before I had to board the 12A Northbound:

I've moved in today!! Freedom! 

I don't have much these days.

Veggie garden, complete with Technicolor zebra.

View from the front.

The burned-out former frat house on the corner serves as an amusing and accurate landmark.

The place is cute and in a good neighborhood, but until I put forth some serious decorative efforts in my renovated-garage bedroom, I am going to be super depressed every time I walk in there. The carpet, which is really foul and reeks of cigarettes, is laid over concrete. The walls have curiosity-arousing stains, and my sweet private entrance is sort of spoiled by the last tenant's large pile of crap, which is apparently our (roomies Essie, Taylor and my) responsibility to sell/give away/make disappear.

I am ripping up the carpet next weekend, painting, and doing something frightfully clever with fabric on the walls (to make up for not being trusted to paint fun colors). This weekend I am getting a pile of soil and some plants and doing a bit of small-scale landscaping in an attempt to prettify the dry, empty ditch separating my entrance from the pile-o-shit that is not mine.

Despite these sort of forced projects to bring my living standards up to normal, it is SO wonderful to live in the downtown area. Even when I wake up in my smelly room on my mattress that someone probably expired on I am happy to be with minutes of cafes, shops, grocery stores...other people...

My life has been packed, with work every day, two exams, an article deadline for San Louie magazine and moving. (Plus there's something incredible that's just happened, but that deserves it's own post.) 

Life's intense!

In my bedroom, my sole oasis is a Dali painting complete with a sunset on a barren landscape, elephants with stilted legs, and lots of misplaced breasts. When I go in there I just try to keep my eyes fixed on that.

Best lists ever

If you know me, you know I love lists. Lists make my life feel smooth and convenient. Little assembly lines. I think lists in literature and film can flow as beautifully as pearls on a string or be as shocking as finding a spoon, a dictionary, a bug and an engagement ring behind the refrigerator or as thought-provoking as thinking about their shared destinies, where they came from and how far they traveled, all little arrows shooting inevitably towards the common target of that crack between the fridge and the wall.

I love common, everyday lists, love ballpoint pens on paper, love crossing things out when they are completed. Even people who don't keep journals make lists, and these become their de facto daily records. Assuming the things they list are things to do or buy, the records quickly become obsolete. (In fact, they are made with the goal of obsolescence.)

My stepbrother once left a list on a post-it note in the bathroom. I don't recall exactly what was on the list, so just assume it was something along these lines:

1.buy this
2.do that
3.or whatever

The funny thing was, above No. 1 he had written "Go to potty" and then crossed that out, so it looked like this:

Go to potty
1.buy this
2.do that
3.or whatever

Then he left the list there, and it looked like that was the only thing he achieved that day. Finding this, I felt like an archeologist of the present. I wanted to frame it, with a little blurb explaining where I found it and my conjectures and postulations of this man's life based on the few records he left behind which I was able to unearth.

I have many of my own lists, happily on their way to fulfillment and obsolescence. (My language list, for example.)

I love the way people try to hide one certain thing in the middle of a list, like when a student at the international school where I worked in the Swiss alps had to phone her dad to request "peanutbuttertamponsandcandy."

What? Peanut butter tampons? "No. Three separate things. Peanutbuttertamponsandcandy."

Or in Anne of Green Gables when Mathew Cuthbert goes to the general store to purchase Anne a dress with puff sleeves, and tries to pass this off as normal by ordering several pounds of brown sugar, a rake (in the dead of Canadian winter) and, oh yeah, one dress with puff sleeves, please.

But I digress. Where was I? The best lists ever.

The best lists ever, or at least the best lists of recent memory:

3. The White Stripes' "Rag and Bone" (from the 2007 album Icky Thump)

Keep going, we're not tired.
Got plenty of places to go, lots of homes we ain't been to yet.
West side, southwest side, middle-east, rich house, dog house, outhouse, old folks house, house for unwed mothers, halfway homes, catacombs, twilight zones.
Looking for techniques, turntables to gramophones.
So take a last lick of your ice cream cone.
And lock up what you still want to own.

2. John Hodge, Trainspotting

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars,
compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good
health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed
interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your
friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a
three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing
game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose
rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable
home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up
brats you spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose life.

1. The 2003 film Jeux d'enfants (Love me if you dare)

Sophie was back in the game! Pure, raw, explosive pleasure! Better than drugs, better than smack! Better than a dope-coke-crack-fix-shit-shoot-sniff-ganja-marijuana-blotter-acid-ecstasy! Better than sex, head, 69, orgies, masturbation, tantrism, Kama Sutra or Thai doggy-style! Better than banana milkshakes! Better than George Lucas's trilogy, the muppets and 2001! Better than Emma Peel, Marilyn, Lara Croft and Cindy Crawford's beauty mark! Better than the B-side to Abbey Road, Jimmy Hendrix and the first man on the moon! Space Mountain, Santa Claus, Bill Gates' fortune, the Dalai Lama, Lazarus raised from the dead! Schwarzenegger's testosterone shots, Pam Anderson's lips! Woodstock, raves... Better than Sade, Rimbaud, Morrison and Castaneda! Better than freedom, better than life!

* * *

4 Walls and 1 roof

That's right, I've got a place now. No more tenting, no more sharing beds with relatives, no more floor. No more thirty-minute bike rides at 1 a.m., after work. (I might miss those though, they are great for exercise, as well as reflection.)
I have been working too much, covering every shift I can. Need to pay that rent!
The new place is cute, small and artistic and is inhabited by two other nice roommates. Private entrance, vegetable garden, close to several cafes but hidden from the street...ahhh. Pictures coming soon.
In other news, I have a post in drafts about favorite lists in literature, film and in life, but I worry it has taken a turn for the offensive. Surprisingly! Maybe I'll post it. Maybe not!

Housing heartbreak

Oh God. I did not get into the Establishment. I can't handle the rejection! I am too sensitive! Shut up and go away, everyone. Actually that's rather preemptive- I haven't even told anyone yet because I'm not quite ready.
I tried to get in touch with my sister to talk about it but she exploded her laptop and flushed her phone down the toilet so I will have to wait until we bump into each other again.
Personal snub aside, the housing situation is getting really urgent. I had stopped looking because I was putting my energy into work, school and getting into the Establishment, but I really have to get my own place. I want nothing more than a room with a bed, where I can unpack my suitcase and sleep in the same place every night. Preferably non-moldy, non-infested and reasonably held together, which would set it apart from all other places I have afforded in this pricey town.
Oh San Luis, I love you but that doesn't mean I have to like you.

Coincidences (coincidae??)

Last night I had planned to meet up with Janine, German au pair and good friend of Alena, with whom I spent loads of time in Berlin over the past year. She said some of her friends had unexpectedly come into town, and would I mind if three Swiss boys joined us? Would I mind? 
The funny thing was, I was the first one to arrive at the meeting point (Jamba Juice). Then came a gaggle of sharply dressed dudes rolling their r's and slaughtering their ch's, and I thought, I wonder if that's them. They sat down at another table and I spent about a minute hesitating to go talk to them, thinking, what if this is some other Swiss-German-speaking trio? Then Janine showed up and introduced us, and everything was all right. They said they had also been considering the possibility that I was Janine with blonde hair, since they hadn't seen her in a while.
After that silliness, we proceeded to Farmer's Market, where I hadn't been for several years. After getting a bite to eat, the boys wanted to play billiards, so in the quest to find a place to play we headed towards Downtown Brew, but were soon distracted by Bubblegum Alley, famous for its collection of chewing gum.

This disgusting deviation from SLO's pretty-perfect streets was all very engrossing to the Swiss folk. (One of them even pondered making such a wall in his own house.) Talking about something as familiar to me as Bubblegum Alley while speaking German was one of the trippiest experiences.
As it turned out, the part of Downtown Brew where you can play pool was closed, so we went to Native Lounge, which is kind of a snotty place but does have a pool table. There was a man there with an alligator named Spike who was doing a fundraiser for a wildlife conservancy foundation. The alligator was the sweetest reptile I have ever met, and didn't seem to mind us petting him or picking him up.

After that I had to run, because I was due at an Establishment Awkward Family Dinner, which I had spent the afternoon making punch with Kelly for. Dinner wasn't actually that awkward, especially once the punch began to flow, although at least one person was naked.

*    *    *

Speaking of the Establishment, I have had my interview at the house. Some of the questions I received were:

1. How do you feel about nudity?
2. Describe the last conflict you had with someone and how you resolved it sucessfully.
3. What can you contribute to the house?
4. Why should we pick you over any other applicant?
5. Why do you blog?

Tonight, votes are due by 5 p.m. and tomorrow I will know if I am 'in' or not. Not unaware of this, I have been hanging out there an obscene amount, even staying until 2 a.m. one night playing Settlers of Catan.

Oh God, I need to get in. I have invested so much time and energy and hope...if I don't get in I will be scandalized. Absolutely scandalized!

Hello, August

Wow! It's been a long time. Sorry! Ohmygoodness, how time flies when you're sleeping in a tent! I can't believe this is my first August post. In July I was all over the world and had little internet time, but I still managed to write the most posts per month I've done so far. Now I have all the internet in the world and no use for it, it seems.

News from my end?? Um...I am starting school on Monday. I'm writing a story for San Louie magazine about parents who walk their children on leashes, I miss my boyfriend like hell and I am making a general mess of my life.

I am applying to live in a cooperative called the Establishment where 19 people live, cook, party, garden and generally cohabit peacefully together. According to San Luis Obispo lore, it used to be a whorehouse, was once home to Jack Kerouac (and is referenced in The Dharma Bums) and it is...haunted.  I have an interview there next Sunday. I'll let you guys know what happens.

Heimat

Broad and High St.

Lincoln and Mountainview St.

I love this tradition of tying your gym shoes together and throwing them onto telephone wires. That's how you know school is out for summer in San Luis. 

Nico sleeping on the porch.

The mission.

The fountain in front of the mission where I almost drowned as a kid! I can't walk by without thinking about that.

My first latte art in a year, poured at Linnaea's. I can do better though...just wait.

The creek where I like to read, unbothered. For hours on end. It's nice to be home- sort of!

Scarf wars

Lieber Martin,

danke für den schönen Schal. Ich habe ihn stolz durch ganz New York getragen. Leider hat er meiner Freundin Rochelle so gut gefallen, dass sie furchtbar neidisch auf mich war (wie alle), und wir haben die ganze Woche nur über den Schal gestritten. Diesen Streit habe ich zwar gewonnen, aber wie du siehst hat es mir unsere Freundschaft gekostet. Also danke nochmal. Wirklich.

Liebe Gruesse,

Anna Marie

Anna and Rochelle's fight to the death

Achtung! Life under construction

So, as I am no longer in Germany, my blog needs a new take on life other than that of a "penniless Californian exchange student." I guess I'll just cross out "exchange." Bing! Done.
I have been away from the fatherland for twelve days now (What? That's all??) and although I am always there in spirit, my spirit doesn't have internet access, so that's no good. I can't blog from Germany about dancing to electro, macking on my boy or having cultural/linguistic misunderstandings all while using charmingly incorrect phrasing (I will nerve them, it made fun, we telephoned, he was making Feierabend, the city was full of Amis) anymore! You may need to read that sentence again.
I am home now, and cannot live in Germany again for-at the most blindingly optimistic-one year. Although this horrifies me, I am trying to deal with it maturely and not begin all sentences with "when I was in Germany..." This is extremely difficult especially considering last call is around 1:30 here, and everyone just seems to accept this. 
I am also officially a full-time student as of today. I realized when I went to talk to the counselor that I am nearly finished with my silly AA degree. I have to take three more classes for a degree in Liberal Arts, and one more (World Politics) for an International Studies degree. Then I can go on to do much bigger, more expensive learning. Just hopefully not here, because I have decided I cannot afford American universities.
(Oh! Embarrassing thing of the day: When I got to my parents' this evening I told my stepmom I had signed up for "Astrology" to fulfill my science requirement.)
I am also employed, having got my job back at Linnaea's. I'm starting next week. I made my first cappuccino in a year the other day, because I went in to order one and they asked if I wanted to just make it myself. My hands were shaking as I pulled the shots and steamed the milk, afraid I wouldn't remember how to do it and everyone would judge me if I couldn't pull off a perfect rosetta (I'll have to post a picture of what I mean).
Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say, there are a few changes in the works. Stay tuned.

Back in California (cue the crickets...)

After peacing out of New York, a short stay in San Francisco with this kook...

Coopie giving the death stare at a San Francisco park

...made it temporarily okay that I was not in Europe anymore. I've missed him!!

I am still living in denial  about being back home. I cannot shake the impression that I am only here on vacation and will be going home to Germany. Not going to happen! I live in California I live in California I live in California. Ahhh, I still can't seem to swallow that.

San Francisco's Velo Rouge, hub of delicious pizza, espresso and levitating bicycles

View of the city from the park

Free, self-cleaning public bathroom
(pictured: Paul, Tiffany and Cooper)

A bridge (not the Golden one...)

 

I had forgotten about San Francisco's bipolar, sunny/freezing/sunny weather. In this city, summer seems to prefer certain areas and completely ignore others. Oh well. Big Sur was waiting, where my Grandma put me up for the night before I made my way further down the coast.

View from my Grandma's guest house, the Hawk's Nest

The windy, turn-y, cliff-y ride home this morning. I always have nightmares about falling over the side of one of those cliffs. Maybe you can't tell from here, but it's a long way down!!

Finally, at noon today, I arrived back in San Luis Obispo. My hometown. It's a strange homecoming, as my dad's side of the family is in Los Angeles at my cousin's wedding. So I am just sort of wandering the San Luis streets by myself, feeling like I am walking through a sunny, flowery dream. I have absolutely nothing to do but hang around. I am currently sitting on my sister's porch, accompanied only by this stinky beast:

"Pepper, I'm back!" "Feed me."

My sister is in town because she has to work, so when she gets off this evening we are going to go "out" together. (While I was gone, she had the audacity of turning 21 without me.)

Of course, going out in San Luis is silly because all the bars close at 2 a.m (which after Germany seems utterly ridiculous). So the bar scene is really intense, with everyone in a big rush to get hammied before last call.

Oh well, out here in California we have the house party to make up for it. Sort of.

Do I really live here?? Can I go back to Germany now??

Schlepping through SoHo

Best parts of today:

Brunch at the Artisanal Fromagerie, highlighted on the Food Network's "The Best Thing I Ever Ate--Cheesy Episode." We broke our fast with gouda and stout fondue, blackberry and mango mimosas, crème brûlée and coffee.
(By the way, brunch is such a scandal! Why is it okay to roll out of bed, show up at eleven (thirty...), stuff your face with all of your favorite things about breakfast and lunch, drink alcohol in the morning and be treated like a queen? Fantastic all-American invention.)

A dragonfly alighted on Lady Liberty and then proceeded to catch and eat the head off of an inferior normal-fly, resulting in a nature shot which ought to be published in the Natty Graf.

The dragonfly's cute little face (the black is housefly leftovers).

Walking to SoHo, we admired the Flatiron Building.

Chris and Rochelle by the water

First glimpse of the real Statue of Liberty...

The dragonfly was that cute!! Look at him smiling for the camera.

Sundown by the water.

Nighty night, New York. I am beat from walking all over you.

Culture shock continues

Coney Island with ChrisnRochelle, Erich, Fouad, and Jimmy today. What is this place?? Hahaha.

They are counting the seconds until they can gluttonize on hot dogs again.

Rochelle makes a difficult decision

Cooling her toes in the Atlantic

Said goodbye to Erich today!! No way. Now we have to wait until September to be ridiculous, dance to electro in the kitchen and have heart to hearts at six in the morning.

Learning to ♥ NY

Really tall buildings. AC. Ice water. Free bathroom usage. Amis* on the streets, Amis in the U-Bahn,* Amis on the television. What a weird place!!

Drinking on the street isn't a thing, but you can see the calorie count of your muffin before entering the bakery. That's handy, to finally use this word correctly.*

I feel like a foreigner!! And not just because (as I've quickly realized) I associate all officialdom (hotels/the bank/police/service industry) with the German language and keep having to stop myself from talking to shop clerks, tellers, waiters and strangers in German.

ChrisnRochelle, first night in town!

Look at this nonsense. Funny that the number on the label is not the price.

Furry...?

What? Was macht der Kölner Dom auf Manhattan?

Eiffelturm, gleiche Frage.

Erich and Fouad, the ying and yang of coolness.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, great place to spend a humid afternoon.

Siren Music Festival on Coney Island tomorrow, I think. That will make fun.

Yeah.

Chin up.

I really just want to go back to Germany. Oh, how I miss you, love.

Author's Note:

1. Ami: slightly judgmental German nickname for "American"
2. U-Bahn: subway
3. In Germany, cell phones are called Handys, leading to the common German misconception that the word handy means cell phone in English.

Almost home

Arrived in New York. First chance to post. Keep almost talking to strangers in German (Entschuldigen Sie...).

Fabulous time in Manhattan with Chris and Rochelle, of course. Moving to a place in Brooklyn today.

San Francisco on Wednesday. 

I miss Germany.

Note from the hostel

Dear Anna Weltner,
Thank you for your booking!
We confirm your reservation made through hostelworld like follows:

arrival:13.07.2010
nights:1
rooms / beds: 1 double room ensuite

Please check if this is what you wanted to book and contact us directly if something is wrong or needs to be changed. 

Again we'd like to point out that we are in the MIDDLE of the  REDLIGHT DISTRICT … So, now You know.  We have “warned” you.
We think that it is safe and rather entertaining, but we like our guests to be happy, also with the location.

So if you like to cancel your booking (because of this or other reasons) please do so up to 24 hours before your arrival in order to avoid cancellation fees (price of the 1st night).

***

....And so I will spend my last night in Germany!!!

Tschüß, happiness...

Micha peaced out today. (Night shift back in Erfurt.)
I am staying in Berlin until Tuesday.
Then it's off to NYC, SF, BS and finally SLO.
Oh well. Some photos for distraction.

Micha in Erfurt before Spain creamed Germany last week (after photo not provided)

Ostrich man made of sand (at a sand sculpture exhibit in Berlin yesterday)

Discovering the self-timer in Dresden's Frauenkirche.

TV sand mountain, Berlin

Making a difficult decision at Dresden's Sheune, one of those cafe/restaurant/venue/Biergarten/dance club places. Note the man in the wine.

It is crazy until you feel it too: Basically summing up my current existence. Thank you, toilet at Rosi's, for your poignant wisdom.