Trying to speak

In trying to learn German, at least one thing has become clear: you can’t learn the language if you don’t try to use it.

That means you have to be willing to make a lot of mistakes. You say the wrong word or put words in the wrong order. Hopefully you don’t say something obscene my mistake.

After a while it can become discouraging. I go through stages of being frustrated at muddling through what is surely bad German, struggling for a word I don’t know, or struggling to say something in terms that I do know.

When I think back to Spanish classes in high school, it occurs to me that we didn’t try so much to actually use the language. We learned vocabulary, phrases, verb conjugations, and grammar, but we never seemed to practice conversation. I remember feeling reluctant to try to speak Spanish. The foreign words sounded strange coming out of my mouth, and I was never willing to sound silly making a mistake.

As I was in Spain last weekend and still remembered some basic phrases, I thought would try to use what I could. One problem is that Girona is in the region called Catalonia, and they speak Catalan as the primary language. But many people, if not most, seemed to speak Spanish also, and many seemed to speak English.

Another problem: if you speak a little Spanish (or Catalan – I bought a dictionary), people will assume you know a lot more. So you say something simple and get back a flurry from which you can pick out about every 10th word. Then I feel like I tricked them into saying all this stuff, only to ask them to repeat it again in English. I can at least say that in Spanish though.

While in Spain something rather obvious occurred to me. If I were a German coming to Spain, I might know 2 or even 3 languages, but I would likely not know Spanish. Since there’s no way we could know all the languages, wherever we might go, there’s really no sense in feeling inferior about it. You do your best to try to communicate – and communication is really what we’re after.

I’m thinking though, it would be interesting to try learning some Spanish again. Or maybe Italian …

Girona mountain ride

I always feel a little bit nervous riding in a strange place -- never quite sure if I just took the correct turn, what the local customs are for things like stopping for red lights, how the drivers treat cyclists.

Finding a good route is often a challenge. If you ask a local person where is a good place to ride, they often will suggest a bike path that runs for maybe a few miles. They have no sense of how far you can go when you ride for several hours. So the trick is to talk to a local cyclist.

For Sunday's ride, I wanted to go towards the mountains. A little Internet searching led me to Michael Barry's (U.S. Postal - Discovery - now T-Moble) website. He's one of those pro riders based in Girona during the season, and he happened to have 2 suggested routes -- both involving some climbing.

I was prepared with 2 Snickers bars, a packet of Gu, and 2 full water bottles.



Here, as in Germany, roads aren't marked North-South-East-West, nor are they laid out in a grid pattern. They're marked by what town they lead to. This is great if you know that Llagostera is on the way to Tossa de Mar. If not, you're stopping a lot to look at maps. On the bike, this actually works out pretty well, since you only have to remember a few towns and not a bunch of turn-by-turn directions.

That's how it worked out for this ride. Once out of Girona, the road climbed gradually for maybe 10 miles, then more steeply. I pulled out the map a few times, just to make sure I was headed to the right town.

About halfway into the ride is the 9km (5.6 mile) climb to St Marti Sacalm -- a climb that many of the pros use as a test to measure their fitness. It's a bit early in the season for a climb that long (or for fitness tests), but I couldn't pass up the opportunity. The view from the top was worth the sore knee later.


(I think that is the start of the Pyrenees way off in the distance)

Back in Girona after almost 4 hours on the road, I stopped in a tapas restaurant. I was ready to say, "I'll take one of everything" but showed a little restraint -- 3 tapas plates followed by an espresso. Great way to end the ride and the weekend.

Sunny in Girona

I want to move to Girona (Spain).

That's my impression after one day here. Germany is great, don't get me wrong. But it's hard to compete with sunshine, mountains, the ocean, good restaurants, and great roads to ride on.

I was able to find a cheap flight on Ryanair for the weekend. Then found a place that would rent a road bike. The weather forecast called for sun with highs around 50.

Most people fly here then go on to Barcelona. But Girona is well known as a cycling area -- Lance Armstrong had an apartment here, and other pro riders come here to train and live during the season. I can tell why -- the riding is great and Girona is big enough to have lots of restaurants, but not overwhelmingly big.

The first ride today took me to the coast, then for maybe an hour and a half along the coastal road that was as spectacular as any road I've ridden on: views of the Mediterranean, seaside cliffs, constant climbing or decsending, and almost no traffic.


As much as I like Germany, this is a refreshing change -- from the gray weather, from the traffic, and also from the general atmosphere. It seems obvious that people are more easy-going here, at least in Girona, and that things move a bit more slowly. Many of the restaurants don't even open for dinner until 8 or 8:30.

P.S. to Jim Mullins: here's another one you were right on.

Anyone want to come join me first week in March?

Something about the cold

I’ve written previously about “attitudes towards strangers”, and how it’s unusual for someone to wave or say hello while I’m out riding, whereas in the U.S. this is commonplace.

It has finally turned cold here. It’s been below freezing, and there is talk of some snow. It’s been dry so far, and I’ve been able to continue riding outside. I still see the people who are out riding to get somewhere – work, to the store, etc. They don’t seem to be discouraged by the cold. But they’re not usually going very far.

I’ve not seen so many recreational cyclists though. At home, when it’s cold and I see another rider, it’s usually someone fairly serious, often someone I know. So I wave, say hello, and acknowledge that there is someone else who is a little bit crazy to be out riding.

Strangely enough, it seems to be the case here too. In the last week of riding, I’ve been acknowledged by other cyclists more than in the entire previous 6 months combined. I’ve had guys wave, nod, even say hello on a couple of occasions.

Yesterday I was on my way back home, riding the path along the Rhine. There was a tailwind, and I was moving along pretty fast. I passed a mountain biker and nodded hello. He slipped in behind me --- I could hear the knobby tires on the pavement. Then I realized there was another rider too. The three of us rode for a while in a paceline at 23 mph dodging the walkers and runners.

The other rider rolled up alongside, and started up a conversation. He was riding a nice Colnago, asked if I raced, said he used to, said this is a bit fast for winter riding, said he was Canadian but grew up in Oberkassel where I’m living. We rode for just a little bit longer, to where he had to turn for home. I had to turn the other way, to cross the bridge. The mountain biker said “goodbye” (in English) and rode straight, with his knobby tires humming on the pavement as passed.

Going to the movies

I’ve realized you can have more of a “cultural experience” from the seemingly small and trivial activities than going to a tourist attraction. Even something simple like going to see a movie is an interesting experience in itself – regardless of seeing the film.

At the theaters around here, you get an assigned seat when you buy your ticket. You can look at the seating plan and pick the one you want (during which time you may encounter the impatience of the cashier).

Now, I’ve wondered why go through so much trouble to assign seats? Surely the computer system to manage this was expensive. And then you’ve got to train the cashiers. And it makes the process go slower.

But it does allow the early comers to pick the better seats (encouraging you to get there a bit early and eat more of the theater snacks). And when the theater is full, it allows them to better manage filling the seats (so there’s not a single seat between different groups). Good German logic applied there.

Then of course you are allowed to buy beer and bring it into the theater. That is no surprise, as you can pretty much buy beer at any kind of event.

The previews and advertisements before the film seem to go on forever. Last time I looked at my watch and it was 25 minutes. The first time I went to a movie I realized that, when so many people came in just in time for the real start, they knew something I didn’t.

After the previews comes the strangest thing, something I've never understood. The curtain closes across the screen. Then there is a slight pause of a few seconds to maybe a minute. Then they open the curtain and start the film (with maybe one more preview).

I’m sure there is some logic behind this, but I've yet to figure out what it might be.

Storm aftermath

Looking out the window, you wouldn't know there was a big storm yesterday. The sky is perfectly blue. The only clue is the sound of a chainsaw the next street over.

In typical German fashion, the street cleaning machine has already come by, and the street looks as clean as usual. Walking around the neighborhood here, the only evidence of the storm I saw was an abandoned umbrella that was turned inside-out.

I saw in reports that 5 people in Germany and 25 across Europe died as a result of the storm. Not surprising as I've seen pictures of a toppled crane, trees fallen on cars, trucks blown over. I read that the wind was measured at 118 mph.

Here's one report:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16687660/

With some additional pictures:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16696403/displaymode/1176/rstry/16687660/

I like this quote:
In Amsterdam, bicyclists who ventured out despite warnings from the fire department were blown over or, in some cases, blown backward.

I went out for a ride a little later, and saw many trees that were uprooted or that had broken off partway up the trunk. It was the most difficult flat-land ride I have ever done. The wind was still strong -- a constant 25, maybe 30 mph I would guess, with gusts. For those cyclists who can appreciate this, I was pedaling into the wind in a 39x19 gear (that's a low gear) on a perfectly flat road, and was going about as hard a pace as I could maintain.

Hurricane hits Deutschland

I don't really watch too much TV news here (or much TV at all). I heard on the radio this morning that there would be high winds today, but I didn't appreciate that it would be an actual hurricane.

It wasn't until one of the maintenance guys came around to make sure all the blinds on the outside of the windows were raised all the way. He told me they were predicting wind speeds of up to 170 km/h (over 100 mph), though I think that was only the highest elevations.

It took me 1.5 hours to get home from work because of downed trees and accidents. The crazy part was trying to cross over the Rhine to get home. The Rheinkniebruecke, my usual way, was completely jammed and I could see the flashing police lights. I took a detour through town and to the next bridge. About halfway over, I could see they had the other direction blocked. It appeared as though some scaffolding had come loose.

I realized this as my car was stopped right underneath.

And then I noticed that people were walking on the sidewalk across the bridge. Now the winds were nowhere near 170 km/h but they were still way stronger than I would like when walking aross a bridge.

I got home and jumped on the trainer for a while, after which I was hungry and needed some food. Without thinking I headed out on foot to the grocery store, thinking the winds had died down some. Which they hadn't. When I started to see all the broken flower pots and tree limbs that had fallen I realized I should have brought my bike helmet.

But I did make it there and back OK. Bonus was that hardly anyone was in the store.

German Salsa

Back in September someone at work asked me what I was going to do for fun once the weather turned and I couldn’t ride so much. I jokingly said maybe I would take dance lessons. I had no clue at the time I would actually be doing it.

I suspect that everyone secretly (or maybe it’s no secret) would like to be a great dancer. Even, or especially, those of us who are for the most part non-dancers. How can you watch someone who is a great dancer and not want to be able to move like that?

Back in November, on a whim, I went out with a group of people here to a Salsa night. They were having a beginner lesson followed by the regular dancing. I told the person organizing the event that I didn’t know anything about Salsa and I wasn’t really a good dancer.

She told me she was a big fan of doing things, “and not caring what other people thought of it.” She said she would never wear a bathing suit if she cared too much about what other people thought.

That was enough to give me the little push to go and do it.

Despite the beginner lesson I felt completely awkward and quite stupid. It was warm and I was sweating like crazy. But I got a few of the basics. Mostly though, I was watching the teacher and some of the others and thinking, “I have to learn how to do that.”

This is sort of a pattern with me. I can’t just ride my bike, I have to race and ride 8000 miles a year. I have 4 snowboards. I can’t just learn a little German, I have to live there.

Since November I’ve been to two different Salsa weekend classes, and am going to another this weekend. I was lucky enough to find a teacher here who is very good. The classes are in German, so I figure it’s another one of those situations where I get German lessons to go along with the real reason I’m there.

It’s also an opportunity to get out and do something with some local people – all of whom were quite friendly.

It’s also a chance to put aside some fear and do something I wouldn’t ordinarily do. I realized, just going and getting a lesson – getting that basic instruction on how to get started – was enough. It was that way with snowboarding too. And German. Bike racing I learned the hard way by crashing in my first race.

Learning German through film

Most of the movies shown here are from America. Most all of them are dubbed in German. I don’t like the dubbed movies. There’s something wrong when you see German coming from Bill Murray or Johnny Depp. It just doesn’t work.

Sometimes we get movies in the original English and less often English with German subtitles. Someone told me that Germans generally don’t like reading subtitles and would rather have the dubbed versions.

I noticed the theater closest to me was showing “Babel” (Brad Pitt, Kate Blanchett), with subtitles. This movie would have been ruined had it been dubbed. It has several interconnected story lines, taking place in the U.S., Mexico, Morocco, and Japan, with the native languages spoken. To dub the entire film in German would be absurd.

It’s not one of those “easy” movies to see. But it’s quite powerful. And quite fitting for where I am right now, because one of the themes is how our perceived cultural differences come between us – language being one of those differences. So it was fitting also that the subtitles were in a foreign language. Even though I’ve learned a fair amount of German, I realize the perception of being different is still very much apparent.

It occurred to me that seeing films with German subtitles is a great learning tool. You see many of the same words over and over, and for me that commits them to memory. I learned the words for “rifle” (Gewehr), “bleed to death” (verbluten), and “shoot” (schießen) among quite a few others (you should get some sense of the intensity of the movie).

I figure getting a language lesson helped offset the 9 Euro (almost $12) ticket price.

What winter?

The weather here has been dreadful. It reminds me of Cleveland in late March-early April: cool, grey, and rainy.

But it's not cold. And it's not snowing.

One day this week I rode in shorts and a jersey (with arm and knee warmers though). 60 degrees F on January 9!

I have all my snowboard gear here, thinking I would do some of that this winter. There might be snow in the mountains (7 hours to the south). But with the warm weather, who even thinks about it?

People around here are skiiing/snowboarding in the indoor ski hall in Neuss, about 10 minutes from here. That is something I may try, just for the curiosity factor.

I've seen a few nordic ski events on television, and they all appear to be using machine-made snow on the race courses.

I'm not complaining about this, because I would rather be out riding my bike. And from what I hear it's been pretty similar back in the U.S., which means I am gaining no advantage by being able to ride.

I guess I need to look for another edge: a training week in sunny Spain? Find out where Jens Voigt lives and infiltrate his training rides? Or Erik Zabel? Maybe talk to one of the old-school East Germans and ask about some "training tips"?

More on driving habits

I had to drive to Brussels yesterday -- just a 2.5 hr drive from here.

As I've written previously, I'm at the point now where I really don't like driving far, because of traffic and construction. Sure enough, 15 minutes from home I hit the first traffic jam. It was only a 10 minute delay, so not a huge impact.

I then listened closely to the traffic reports, but didn't hear anything that sounded like it would affect me. Somehow I missed one, and not too far from the border, just as I chose one of the two possible routes, I ran into the back of a 6 kilometer jam. Then I heard it on the radio. It took 30 minutes to go the next 1.5 km to get to the next exit where I turned around and took the other highway.

This is where I would be totally stressed out if my car didn't have a navigation system.

Crossing the border into Belgium, it was as if someone had hit the "relax" button for the highway. In Belgium, the speed limit is 120km/h, and I was told to obey it because the fines are steep. It seems most everyone obeys it, except, I was told again, for Germans who have not yet had the pleasure of being ticketed.

The end effect is that as soon as you hit the border, the entire experience of driving changes. It is so much more relaxed, and so less stressful than driving in Germany. There are no cars coming up on your bumper, or flying by so fast that your car shudders.

I mentioned this to someone at work -- someone who is German -- and he laughed and agreed completely. He said, that is the German way. Everything is so compact, so aggressive, and so stressful. He said he loves to drive in the U.S. (except, I discovered, he had never driven in say Boston or Chicago.)

I did notice though that the Belgians don't seem to easily let you merge into another lane. In Germany it seems if you put your blinker on, the other car is prepared for you to go ahead and merge ... like now. Driving in Belgium, they seemed to go out of their way to not let you merge.

Then I wondered ... maybe I was getting a little payback because of my German license plate.

***

Further note:
While driving to / from work the last 2 days I was noticing again how the drivers here will so often wait until the absolute last minute to merge right to get off at their exit, especially at the Autobahn interchanges. They will drive 160 km/h in the left lane then just before the exit move over to the right, jamming on the brakes and squeezing in where there may be less than a car length. I guess saving a few seconds is worth the price of brake replacement.

(a small) Language milestone

I have this picture in my head that someday I will walk into a German bar, order a beer, sit down, and have a regular conversation in German about yesterday’s football match (European, that is), or smoking bans (works for me), or speed limits on the Autobahn (not sure about that one).

Right now though, my attempts to speak German often center on my attempts to speak German. That’s true in more than one way.

My own self-consciousness and focus on getting the language right mean the communication sometimes comes second. When my attention is mostly on the language itself it’s easy to lose sight of the most important aspect, which is that I’m communicating with another person.

Often the conversation turns to my learning of German. Partly this is because people seem curious about it. Partly it’s because this is one of my stock set of things I can talk about – little conversation tidbits that I now know well, that relieve some of the pressure of getting the language right.

I want badly to get to the point where I can have a conversation without being self-conscious about it, and without having to talk about my learning of German. I know that for the most part this is a matter of time and practice, but I have a feeling it’s a matter of also letting go of mostly being concerned with saying things correctly.

I reached one small milestone a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t even realize this until after the fact. I had gone up to the coffee room where one of the guys in the office, who I’d not met before, started up a conversation with me. He somehow knew I was from the U.S., and he was asking about what my assignment was, what I did in the U.S., how long I was staying, etc. I asked him about what he did, how long he’d been at the company, etc.

It wasn’t until afterwards that I realized we’d had a normal conversation, that I hadn’t been nervous about it, and that we hadn’t talked mostly about my learning German. Now this was a 5 minute conversation of very limited scope, so I don’t want to make too big of a deal about it. It’s not like I was discussing German philosophers … but I suppose even they had to start with something small.

Attitudes towards strangers

I went out for a ride the morning after arriving home for Christmas and was reminded immediately that I was here, and not in Germany.

I passed a jogger and she said good morning. I passed another rider and he waved. Strangers actually acknowledged my presence and were friendly.

This is something that puzzles me about Germany, at least where I am. I can walk down the street in the morning and pass people in the neighborhood, and it seems they make an effort to avoid eye contact or otherwise acknowledge I’m there.

It’s mostly the same when I pass other riders, although when I see another racer often a subtle nod is exchanged. Runners interestingly are a bit friendlier, sometimes actually speaking and saying “abend” (evening) or “morgen” (morning).

People have told me that Americans are generally more open and friendly than Germans. It’s not that people in Germany are unfriendly. Just recently I was having snow tires put on, and while waiting talked with a local guy who gave me his card and said to call if I ever wanted to go have a beer at the pub. Once people find out I’m from the U.S. they seem to become friendlier.

It’s the everyday encounters with strangers that often seem so remote and detached. To my sensibility it takes effort to be so detached.

I’ve heard it said that in contrast Americans may be more friendly but they are often superficially so. And that Germans tend to find this somewhat intrusive. This was given as one reason why Wal-Mart failed in Germany: people did not like the cheerful “greeters” at the door or the overly helpful salespeople.

I was in a store here in the U.S. just before Christmas, and suddenly became aware of the cashier’s “Hi how are you today” routine with everyone. She didn’t seem really interested – more of a habitual response.

Neither way seems particularly satisfying – forced remoteness or superficial friendliness. Perhaps I can be a rebel and follow the middle-way … being careful not to scare strangers in the neighborhood. I’m afraid they might think I’m like the eccentric guy I sometimes see outside the bakery who says random and unintelligible things to everyone who walks by.

Holiday travel torture

First off let me say that I feel fortunate to be traveling to Germany. If I didn’t have that opportunity I wouldn’t be in a position to complain about it.

I find the whole process of airline travel unpleasant. The longer flights to and from Germany make it more unpleasant, and the holiday time just makes it worse as everyone seems overloaded with the extra traffic, limited time, and general stress.

There’s traffic, parking, the security process, lateness of flights, anxiety over missing flights, bad food, surly airport people (employees and travelers).

For me it starts with trying to select the optimal seat that will result in no one sitting next to me. On a long flight, to me this is the key determination in my level of discomfort. There’s nothing worse than having someone next to you whose body is spilling over into your seat while you try to fit within the 12 inches they graciously give you.

I look at the seat map on-line, up to the day of the flight, and move my assignment if needed. I think I’ve got the system down pretty well. I’ve been lucky lately, which means I’ve also gotten spoiled.

This time I was all set to have an open seat next to me, maybe even the whole row. Then along came Mom, Dad, and teenage brother and sister, headed for my row. Dad and son took the row in front of me, leaving the middle open (nice for them), while Mom and daughter decided to sit with me. It could be worse, I thought, since they at least fit in their seats.

Then after we took off, Dad, sitting in front of me, jammed his seat back as far as it would go, leaving me no chance of working on my laptop. It was a rather comical sight: I was squeezed into a tiny little space while the family of four was spread out in relative comfort. They turned and chatted, passed treats back and forth, while I banged my knees against the seat in front of me.

The food was bad, the movies were bad, and a 2-year-old in the next row yelled most of the way. The only thing that saved me was my iPod. Thanks to my friend Tris for showing me how to download some nice live Grateful Dead shows from like 1968 -- fitting music to settle in for a long flight.

Arrival in the U.S. was like the last trip at Thanksgiving: crowds of hurried travelers and prison-guard-like security people.

When I was at about my most cynical, I received a present from a very nice Continental employee. She boxed up and checked a bottle of wine, bought at the airport in Germany, which the security people in Newark wouldn’t let through. My attitude changed completely. I didn’t even mind that the next flight was an hour late and jammed with people carrying too many carry-on items to fit in the available space.

Flat tire karma

Serious cyclists learn not talk about things like how long it’s been since you last had a flat tire. It’s a certain jinx. I don’t even like to think about it while out riding. Even thinking about it seems to bring on a flat.

And you don’t want to be tempting fate when it’s trying to prevent you from riding in the first place.

The day had started out with me slicing my lip somehow while shaving. I had to drive the whole way to work pressing a tissue on my lip to try to stop the bleeding. But then the sun came out, I had worked a lot the previous couple days, and I wanted to get in a ride before the 4:30PM darkness here.

Leaving work at 2:00 usually means no traffic. But this day, because I wanted to ride before dark, it was a mess. The last 2km to home took me 30 minutes because the bridge to Oberkassel was completely jammed with cars for reasons completely unknown.

I finally made it out on the road by 3:15, and thought I would just ride hard for what little time I had. Not too long into the ride I passed a guy who was changing a flat. He said something as I went by, which is unusual, so I turned and went back. His pump was not working, so I let him use mine. He was quite grateful.

I set off again, trying to calculate the route that would get me home before dark.

Then I made the mistake of thinking about helping the guy with the flat, and thinking that I had not had one flat tire in the 5 months I’d been in Germany. That’s a long time without a flat.

A couple miles later, I could feel my front tire getting soft. Since front flats don’t happen as often as rear flats, this particular wheel had not had a change in a very long time. As a result, the inner tube was fused to the tire, and I could not pull it loose. I had visions of walking home 10 miles in my bike shoes. That was enough to give me a Popeye-like burst of strength to pull the tube loose.

The tire was now deformed and had a flat spot I could feel on every rotation of the wheel. I hammered the rest of the way home, riding the last 10 or 15 minutes in the dark. Fortunately there was a bike path adjacent to the road, then streetlights close to home.

I’m going to carry 2 spare tubes with me for a while. As we know, these sorts of things happen in groups of three. Not that I’m superstitious or anything.

Low key Christmas

I miss being home at Christmas-time, but I’m also appreciating how Christmas is not so in-your-face as it is at home. People don’t go crazy with Christmas lights and decorations, every other TV commercial isn’t Christmas advertising, and I don’t hear Christmas carols everywhere I go.

The upside is that I don’t have that feeling of Christmas overload … 3 days post-Thanksgiving. The downside is that the general atmosphere doesn’t seem quite as festive as at home. If we could only turn down the volume a bit. Unfortunately that seems unlikely, since each year we feel we must do that little bit more than last year.

There is one phenomenon that is big here: the Christmas markets. People told me, “You have to visit the Christmas markets.” They were given such a build-up it was almost impossible not to be let down.

I’ve been to three different markets: here in Düsseldorf, in Köln, and in Aachen. The first two were so overwhelmingly crowded with people, and so underwhelming full of kitschy stuff to buy, that I wasn’t interested in seeing any more.

I was wondering what the attraction was, besides being an excuse to drink outside, eat ½ meter long bratwursts, and shop at times when stores are normally closed.

Then my friend from work invited me to go with him and his wife to Aachen, where his 3 children are at the university.

Aachen is a very cool, and very old, town near the border of Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands (it has 3 names, in German, French, and Dutch). We got there early on Sunday, so the market was not very crowded at first. It was also the first day that it’s been cold here, so it actually felt like winter. We walked around, drank hot chocolate and spiced wine, and tried many of the food samples people were offering.

We later went to eat lunch at one of the many student hangouts, where you can get a pizza for 4 Euro or in my case a half chicken with frites and a salad for 4.80. My friend’s kids were there, and I worked hard to understand as they all spoke at their normal speed.

I found myself having a quite a good time. I realized what was different from the other markets: here, I was simply enjoying being with friends. And that I’m guessing is one of the big attractions to going to the Christmas markets.

Stau auf der Autobahn

Many people have asked me about driving on the Autobahn. Often people have this image of the Autobahn being a single 10-lane superhighway, with no speed limit, that cuts across the middle of Germany.

In actuality, it’s quite different. And right now, driving on the Autobahn is often completely absurd.

The Autobahn isn’t a single highway, but rather is a network of highways similar to the U.S. interstate highway system. It’s generally well-maintained, and there are frequent rest stops where you can buy gas as well as food (similar to what one finds on U.S. toll roads).

Yes, there are stretches of road where there is no speed limit. But these stretches don’t seem to last very long. It’s common to go from no speed limit down to 120km/h (about 75mph), then sometimes lower. Anywhere near a city there are usually speed limits of 80 -120km/h. Where I commonly drive, I rarely get to a stretch of road without limits.

Now for the absurdity of the situation.

The Autobahn seems to be operating near capacity in many places. That means even the smallest disturbance can cause a traffic stoppage. Driving home from the airport recently, we sat stopped in traffic for 30 minutes because a car was in the breakdown lane with a flat tire.

Because of the World Cup this summer, construction work was postponed until mid-July. It seems right now that every stretch of Autobahn is under construction. On one recent trip I started to keep track, and I did not go more than 40km on any stretch of Autobahn without going through a construction zone.

Rather than take away a lane of traffic, the construction zones generally have these insanely narrow lanes. I don’t think you could stick your elbow out an open window without hitting the car, or better yet truck, in the next lane.

A construction zone is a disturbance to the traffic flow. And because of the narrow lanes with no margin for error, they seem to often be the location of accidents. And that means monumental traffic jams.

I’ve learned a lot of German listening to the frequent traffic reports on the radio. A “Stau” is completely stopped traffic. “Stockender Verkehr” is literally stagnant traffic, also known as “stop and go” by one of the radio stations. Any weekday morning, there will be a list of at least 10 or more Staus or stockender Verkehr of 3km or more within a 40 mile radius. I’ve learned the words for: accident, detour, construction zone, wrong-way driver, lane closed, lane open, car on fire, Autobahn-completely-closed-because-of-accident-with-death-involved.

I’ve become a bit obsessed with listening to the traffic reports, because I just cannot stand to sit in traffic. On one 3 day driving trip for work, I swore I would never drive like that again, and would instead take the train and cabs even it if took longer. On that trip we heard a report of a 25km Stau (that’s over 15 miles) outside Munich.

Into this mix you can throw trucks that do not drive faster than 100km/h (62mph), even when they are passing another truck. There may be one truck going 98 with another passing at 100. A colleague at work says that is called an “elephant race”.

Because of all this, the absence of speed limits seems to have no effect on the overall travel time. You can drive 200km/h for stretches, but your average trip speed is the same as if you never exceeded100 km/h.

Unfortunately many of the German drivers don’t see it this way, and assert their right to drive as fast as they desire, whenever they desire. This seems to be particularly true for guys about my age in BMWs, Audis, Porsches, and Mercedes. They think nothing of continuing at 200km/h even though it is obvious just up ahead they will have to brake hard, which they do. Or they fly up the left lane then cut over 2 lanes just before their exit, where they have to jam on the brakes. I’m sure the auto workshops here do a great business in brake work.

If all of this sounds bad … well, it is. Actually it’s not a complete disaster. I do believe I’m much more aware of the traffic around me. And I’ve learned to always use my turn signals. That is just pure self-preservation.

Fast walking

You’d think that with all the bike riding I do, a little walking wouldn’t be a problem. My legs may be in great riding shape, but riding shape doesn’t translate to walking. Something about the specialization that comes from so much riding.

I learned this the hard way once, a number of years ago when we took the kids to Disney World. After spending the first day walking, I had to soak my legs in an ice bath because my calves were so sore. Since then I swore I would keep myself in reasonable walking shape.

As I’ve mentioned before, people walk a lot in Germany. It’s not unusual to walk several kilometers carrying groceries or shopping bags. I know I walk way more than when I’m home. The main reason is that things are actually within walking distance. I’m able to walk to the store, to restaurants, to get my hair cut.

Not only do people here walk a lot, they also walk fast. When my daughter was here for a visit, we noticed a woman in front of us on the sidewalk who was pulling away from us. She had at least 20 years on me. We tried to walk faster but still couldn’t keep up. My daughter blamed it on her open-back shoes until we noticed the woman’s shoes were similar.

I think that when you’re walking a couple km or more, you don’t always have time to go at a leisurely pace.

Without really thinking about it, I’ve been walking faster too. When everyone around you is walking fast, you naturally follow along. When my wife came to visit, she asked, “Why are you walking so fast?”

And then when I came home to visit, while shopping in the grocery store she said, “You’re doing that fast walking thing again.” I had started pushing the cart and quickly left her behind.

But I’m still not the fastest person on the sidewalk. I’ve been passed by elderly women carrying groceries. The other night a guy walked briskly by me, lighting a cigarette as he passed – and I was in a bit of a hurry.

There is something satisfying about transporting yourself under your own power, and walking is about as basic as you can get. The best thing about walking is walking to buy food or go out to eat. I always feel justified in getting just that little bit more.

Big in the U.S.

Everything seems bigger in the U.S.: bigger cars, roads, distances, meals.

Bigger people.

I hate to say that, but there is no denying it. I noticed it right away when I came home, and I notice the difference now that I am back in Germany again.

I’ve wondered why this is so. Curiously, I’ve been in several conversations where this topic has been brought up (and not by me).

When I came home for Thanksgiving, I was surprised to see that I’d not gained any weight since leaving in July.

First theory: people walk a lot more here. I know I walk a lot more. I walked home about 2 miles late one evening, behind a couple in their 60’s who covered the same distance at the same speed as me.

Yet at home we won’t even walk from the back row of the mall parking lot. Instead we drive around and around waiting for a space to open up. We are so used to driving right up to the door where we do any business (work, shopping, etc.)

In large part, I think this is an issue of convenience. In the U.S. it is convenient to drive and park, because we build these huge parking lots. In Germany, it is often so much of a hassle to park it’s easier to walk. Or when you do park, often it is still a long walk to get to where you’re going.

And then, I notice that going for a walk, in the evening or on a weekend afternoon, is simply a common thing to do.

Second theory: we just eat a lot. A couple weeks ago in the U.S. I was talking with a German guy who now lives in France. He said one difference is that where he lives, they typically eat a small breakfast, then nothing until lunch, and then a small dinner at 8 or 9 PM. They don’t eat in between.

As if his point needed further illustration, we were at a meeting where there was a constant flow of food: pastries in the morning, a large buffet lunch, cookies/cake/brownies in the afternoon.

Third theory: our junk food is really junky. McD, BK, Arby’s, etc. No more -- my dinner has not yet been digested.

The result: after 2 weeks at home I came back to Germany heavier than when I arrived. And this was in spite of the great weather and many miles on the bike.

Power of the familiar

After 2 weeks in the U.S., the sense of strangeness has worn off.

I notice how easy things seem here. I’m able to get in the car and drive without consulting a map. I know where to go without thinking about it. I speak without having to stop and think about what words to use.

The first few weeks in Germany – maybe even longer – everything felt difficult. Even the simplest things such as buying a loaf of bread seemed difficult. I felt lost most of the time and was constantly stopping to look at maps. This was at the same time stimulating and tiring.

The sense of the familiar seems quite powerful. I’ve come to the conclusion that becoming comfortable with living in Germany is a simple matter of time and exposure. There’s nothing magical about it.

It now feels odd to be going back to Germany, and I’m curious about how it will seem when I arrive.

For unknown reasons, my flight to Newark seems to be about the only flight out of Cleveland that is significantly delayed. Maybe because of weather problems elsewhere, but I also suspect that the airlines like to blame weather because then they are not responsible for finding another flight.

If I take the flight, it’s possible I will miss the connecting flight to Cologne. I think that no matter which decision I make it will be the wrong one. If I take the flight, I’ll probably miss the connection and have to spend the night in Newark. If I don’t take it, I’ll probably come home to find out they delayed the flight in Newark.

This is like always picking what seems to be the slowest line at the grocery store.

I decide the safest option is to reschedule the flight. Surprisingly it works out this time. The flight leaves over 5 hours late and misses the connection to Germany. I would have spent about 20 hours in Newark.

I’ve now got two extra days home. Unfortunately I think I’ve used up my one good decision outcome.