Last night I suffered a terrible nightmare in which the one bum of Erfurt, the one who sleeps in the Sparkasse near Anger and spends his waking hours drinking booze and singing loudly, was chasing me through the playground at Angerbrunnen and hollering "kleines Mädchen!" aggressively, while every step I took was like a stride through a swamp. I woke up clammy and horrified at 4:30 in the morning.
I dreamt it all in German; that's a sign of continued progress.
Erich came back to Erfurt to visit last weekend. On Friday as soon as I was finished with work I rushed off to the Hauptbahnhof to pick him up. We went out to Stadtgarten, where there was some slightly wannabe yet still danceable music being played. The dance floor seemed to take ages to fill up, everyone waiting for everyone else to dance.
I rather showed myself up by galloping over to my cynical roommate Robert to ask him why he wasn't dancing, and at that moment getting the worst hiccups I have ever had.
On Saturday there was warm weather in Erfurt for the first time anyone could recall, and the Germans were having a field day. The center of town was packed; dogs and ice creams were everyone's new must-have accessory. On Sunday Erich and I went back for more ice cream. Then we took the train to Weimar to check out the Bauhaus Museum and take a picture in front of the gold man.
Erich told me a story about how he was looking for a job the summer before coming to Germany and stumbled across an obvious pyramid scheme, which he sort of experimentally allowed himself to get tangled up in, just to see what would happen. He did a splendid imitation of the terrifying passive-aggressive type who interviewed him, asking,"Are you excited?? Are you really excited?" like an evangelist at a charismatic church.
He also told about a woman he had worked with who sat so long her rear was the shape of the chair, and I said I kind of felt like that too sometimes. Then in the gift shop of the museum I picked up a small art piece, a carved man whose seated square body fit perfectly into a square chair, and I asked, is this what you meant?
Roommate keeps talking to me in English in weird sort of power trip.
Getting made fun of all the time re: the letter r.
Rejection, pointlessness, discouragement. On the other hand....
...it's not the end of the world.
Don't know why I have been so down today. I just spent a great weekend with Erich (sunshine, dancing, ice cream). I must have used up all of my serotonin. But working again is suddenly pure pain! I want to be with a human.
During his visit to Germany, Boombox kept a travel journal. In it he made lists. There were important new German words, such as Mitfahrgelegenheit, Pfand, Zigarette, and Entschuldigung. But he also noted small things which were a bit different from home. I helped contribute to the list, which looked something like this:
Space-age, non-refrigerated milk
Telephone/shower hybrids
Landlines
Leaving at midnight to go clubbing
No peanut butter
Toilet separate from bathroom
Apparently smarter animals
Drinking alcohol on the street
In fact, that last one was the shock of the trip. Michael was rather impressed that the checkers at the store did not care how old he was as we bought a crate of Köstritzer Schwarzbier, and by the fact that we were allowed to open it on the street. When I told him this news, he was not inclined to believe me, thinking, as the date would suggest, that it was an April Fool's joke.
I looked to my roommate Robert to back me up on this ("Please assure my friend it's okay to drink on the street."). Robert, seeing an opportunity to screw with someone, put on a somber face and said, "Oh no, I wouldn't advise this."
"See?" Said Michael triumphantly. "I knew she was making it up. Almost got me."
That settled it. I cracked one open, handed it to Michael, cracked another open, cheersed (um, what is anstoßen in English?) while making eye contact, which is very important in Germany, and set off for downtown to find a police officer to drink in front of, thus solidifying the fact that this is %100 legal.
Michael mit zwei Bier vor der Polizei. Unglaublich.
"Ungeöffnet ist unsere H-Milch auch ohne Kühlung3 Monate haltbar. Sie ist in ihrer 1-l-Verpackung somit ideal zum Bevorraten. Die klassischen Fettgehaltsstufen 1,5 % und 3,5 % und ihr voller Milchgeschmack machen unsere Milch zu einem puren Genusserlebnis." -Osterland Milk Website
I picked up Boombox/Michael at the train station in Erfurt, full of the incredibility of it all- seeing a friend from San Luis Obispo, here in Erfurt? Wild! We cooked, went to a wine bar and then stomped around at Stadtgarten, where a band called Supershirt was playing.
After we had seen the sights of Erfurt, we caught a Mitfahrgelegenheit (ride) to Berlin. We met up with Alena, saw her new Friedrichshain apartment, met her new boy, went dancing at a place called Suicide Circus.
Alena's neighborhood is quite hip, and oddly enough is home to lots of young parents. I spotted a building covered in peeling posters and graffiti and assumed it was a club until Alena pointed out that it was a daycare.
Boombox: "Those are going to be some savvy kids."
Indeed. There was also a 10-cent vending machine selling, funnily enough, knives and candy. Thus the following photo sequence:
What could it be?
Knives and candy!
Ten cents? I've got that.
Just candy. That's boring.
Oh wow. So much is going on! More to come when I am not so distracted tearing Erfurt apart, washing laundry, touring the Cathedral, eating homemade tortes and/or drinking beer in front of the police.
I leave you with some unexplained images from Berlin:
A writer living in San Luis Obispo, Calif., Anna likes cuddly animals, electronica, human absurdity, espresso, infobabble, sweet dreams, bicycles, German, good stories and traveling around.