In which we do some math.

There's been quite some hullaballoo hullaballooing on this side of The Pond. Sure there's some economy flopping about like a fish outta water as the Euro increases in flabbiness, but that's not what I'm talking about. I am talking about the Europameisterschaft, or the Euro Cup, if you will. (= Soccer tournament. I know some of you Americans were wondering.) That's when Greece puts out a little paper cup and everybody kicks euros into it. Or rather, tonight Greece put out their little goal and Germany kicked a lot of Fußballs into it. There was a lot of tension leading up to this match, as the quarter final time had rolled around already and, in case you missed it, there has been a lot of political tension between these two lands as of late. I started out the game secretly rooting for Greece, out of pity and all that. In a recent news story leading up to the game, one Greek was interviewed and said something along the lines of, "Well, we know there isn't much of a chance for us to win, but seeing smiles on Greek faces again in anticipation of the game has been really nice." Paraphrasing, but still. They could use a break. (Well, technically they could use a fix, not another break.) ANYWAY. I armed myself with ice cream, met up with a friend, and we found ourselves a nice spot at the public viewing at the Uni.

Despite all the good samaritan feelings I had been feeling at the kickoff, five minutes in that room and my heart was schlagging schwarz, rot, gold with the best of them.

Now for the math part.

1000 or so enthusiastic Germans + beer + soccer + (goal x 4) + beer + you should probably make sure your volume is down =

To add a little political spice to the soccer soup, Angie Merkel attended the match in her characteristic light green blazer. The camera showed her reactions to the more elating and frightening moments of the game, which was amusing to say the least. Huge cheers arose from the crowd every time she came on screen.

My favorite reactions, however, came from the German (wait! came from the balding dude in front of us who kept shouting "JAWOOOOHL" whenever he got excited) coach, Jogi Löw (You can pronounce that "Luuuurve" if you please. He is somewhat of a heartthrob for some parties, just because he is, like, totally, like, so cute, you know?). But anyway, as Accompanying Friend mentioned earlier, it is very difficult to tell when Jogi is anxious because he always has the same facial expression. Always, except for when one of the teams makes a goal. When it is not his team, he waves his arms around frantically like some sort of exotic bird mating dance. When it is his team, he waves his arms around frantically like some sort of exotic bird mating dance... followed by a fist pump. And for the record, my favorite drunken chant of the evening was the one in which all the big, burly men jump up and down while tonelessly singing, "Wie schön!", aaaaand also for the record, it is almost midnight and things are still exploding outside my window. Wie schön!

Guess the Bild got one thing right: No bailout fund could save them from Jogi. And so the fun continues.

In which we are trains, afternoons, and nights.

One of the things I did in the past couple months was read the complete works of Wolfgang Borchert, the author I've been researching. As his incredibly unreal life ended before his complete works became too long to fit inside a book in my bag [inhale!], I ended up reading great chunks of it on trains of various sorts. This turned out to be creepily relevant, as so many of his short stories involve trains. Some take place in them, some aim to get to them, some are them. I think he loved trains as much as I do today, or rather, I love trains as much as he did then, and reading his words about trains in Hamburg in my mind while zooming along in a train... in Hamburg... made me feel very connected to him. Our similar love for Hamburg itself also plays into that.

In one of my favorite stories, called Eisenbahnen, nachmittags und nachts (translation: trains, afternoons and nights), he plays with some major personification, or more specifically-- compares how trains live with how a lost generation lives, a lost generation of soldiers, a Generation ohne Abschied, so to speak. It goes from a far-out concept to a very direct, personal address in no time. A more personal aspect on the personal aspect is that I find that my writing style is very similar to his, making it a lot easier to understand some of the linguistic tricks he comes up with. I have also really, really, enjoyed translating his work so far, so there'll probably be more of that in the future.

Here's a blurb from the aforementioned text for you German-speakers:

Die Bahnen. Über Dämme hinhämmernd, über Brücken gebrüllt, aus Diesigkeiten herandonnernd, in Dunkelheiten verdämmernd: Summende brummende Bahnen. Güterzüge, murmelnd, eilig, irgendwie träge und ruhlos, sind sie wie wir.    

Sie sind wie wir. Sie kündigen sich an, pompös, großartig und schon aus enorm ferner Ferne, mit einem Schrei. Dann sind sie da wie Gewitter und als ob sie wunder was für Welten umwälzten. Dabei ähneln sie sich alle und sind immer wieder überraschend und erregend. Aber im Nu, kaum daß man begreift, was sie eigentlich wollen, sind sie vorbei. Und alles ist, als ob sie nicht waren. Höchstens Ruß und verbranntes Gras nebenher beweisen ihren Weg. Dann verabschieden sie sich, etwas melancholisch und schon aus enorm ferner Ferne, mit einem Schrei, wie wir.   

And now for some train-related photos!



And now back to non-train-related photos! These clouds and hidden flying things are fun full-screen.

Night falls as all the colors in Planten un Blomen peace out and peace up.

Observe full-screen for a celestial playdate.

Sometimes a lack of wind makes things topsy-turvy. See below.

Ominous skies o'er the Speicherstadt.

Pre-leaf season across the street.

This was not taken in Hamburg, but rather on the Baltic coast. Early spring. Cold mist. Disappearing horizon. Made me miss New England.

Okay, okay, explanation time. One of the local grocery store chains carries a line of "American goods" under a brand name fabricated by slapping together two of the most American-loaded names in the book. Anders gesagt, what do you get when you cross McDonald's with JFK? McKennedy chicken nuggets with curry dip, that's what. Other fine items from their redwhite&blue, Statue of Liberty-starred, AMERICAN WAY specialties include things like ready-to-eat hamburgers, 4-packs of giant and chocolatey muffins, and imitation wonder bread. Coming across their products always makes me laugh, particularly when the product has no resemblance to American cuisine, but then I realize the implications they have on my culture and stereotypes thereof and I cringe and cringe and cringe and go squeeze mangoes or something instead.

Surely there must be better ways of combining German and American cuisine than the frozen apocalypse pictured above. For example, why not make American sugar cookies with a German cookie cutter picturing Hamburg's coat of arms?

(Inside scoop-- I saw this at an outdoor market and when the nice man told me I could use it to stamp the coat of arms on slices of cheese, I just couldn't say no.)

Finally, finally, here are the last of the mistranslations I've been hoarding for months.

Aboard the [ship name] the comfortable cabins establish a relaxing atmosphere, which one knows otherwise only from at home.

Avail yourself of the healthy Spa [name] menus.

Enjoy the variety and decide spontaneously with which delicacies you are going to appease your appetite.

Recreation and relaxation is reached by healing treatments like acupuncture and cosmetics as well as the fountain of youth which is only accessible by adults.

Cruise through the Western Caribbean and let the sun touch your belly on the beautiful teakwood-deck.

With that one all I can do is imagine the sun poking the Pillsbury Dough Boy in the belly with a long ray of finger, which in then turns him a nice golden brown. Hoohoooo!

In which we go on a mini-vacation to the homeland and beyond.

Once upon a time in May, a lovely friend came from out of the past to check out the person I had become (and to experience schnitzel). We went on many adventures during her stay, some near and some far. One such adventure took us across the Big Blue to the Great American West, to snow-capped Scandanavian landscapes, throughout the Deutschland, and down (or up, rather) to the bumpy heights of Switzerland and Austria. All within about three hours and all without leaving Hamburg, of course. So. Without further ado, I give you some of my favorite miniature moments from a miniature wonderland:

(This one's fer you, ma.)

 This lovely sky greeted us upon our return to normal-sized Hamburg. I love this city. Huzzah.

In which Spring flirts with northern hearts.

The last signature on my ever-lengthening list of wonderful visitors belongs to none other than that most stealthy of seasons, that most fickle of friends, that eternally blossoming beauty-- Spring. She'd been here briefly in March, just long enough to convince us all to put the wool jackets into hibernation, O woe to the fools of April, that cruelest of months. And just when we were about to give up hope and place our order for a lifetime supply of flannel long undergarments from the L.L. Bean catalogue, she came back again, this time followed by the warm, juicy fragrance of fresh strawberries wafting from the red, polka-seeded huts on each street corner. With a blue sky up above and a Cloud 9 underfoot, the city erupted with blinding skin, charcoal sales, cries of: "Do you know where I left my sunglasses? --Wait, do I even have sunglasses?", and wrinkly, boxy-scented summer dresses that were too excited to be worn to bother with an iron massage. The number of water birdies skyrocketed as fuzzy-winged fluffballs with more cuteness than should be legal for any living critter to possess took to the Hamburgian banks and waters in the wake of Mother Goose, Donald Duck, and Natalie Portman.

Of course, most of the pictures you are about to see were taken during Spring's March visit, during which she was lovely as always, but unusually chilly in temperaturement. Hence the jackets. Let's have a look, shall we?

The Japanese Garden in Planten un Blomen regularly does afternoon teatime! There's a lovely woman there who chills out for hours at a time serving people tea, for free, youpieee!

Someone's missing their missing kitty.

Selected scenes from the Frühlingsdom. Seeing American flags in the D-land always throws me through a loop, though they're somehow easier on the eyes when perched atop a giant corncob.

And here are a few shots from the Hafengeburtstag (ie. birthday party for the harbor), taken at a particularly glowy moment. I did manage to see the opening of the Tugboat Ballet by chance when passing through on my way not to the Hafengeburtstag, which gave my inner tugboat captain ballerina much joy.

I like this one because the clouds look like sails. Big, poofy sails. Poof!

These next few are from a visit with Spring and another good friend from the south to one of my favorite Hamburg secrets.

Oh golly, that fabulously informative street art deserves a close-up!

 ...Which in term segues us smoothly into some more groovy street art! (Kein Mensch ist illegal --> No person is illegal. Painted on the side of a building in one of Hamburg's many "illegally" occupied parts of town.)

"You're it!"

See? I'm not the only one.

And finally, Spring wouldn't be Spring without a good Spring Awakening Creeper Photo. Ta da!

Love, m. xoxo