Two Princes

I know it's been a while since my last blog entry, but I don't want to sacrifice the quality of my posts for quantity.  That being said, practice was cancelled today, leaving me with a day free to do anything I please, but it's cold and rainy, so allow me to write about nothing.

Nothing Number 1:

German pop music, in general, is American pop music.  Their radio stations play the same songs ours do.  Turn on the dial and you're bound to hear Taylor Swift, Kelly Clarkson, and Maroon 5.  There are popular German bands, of course, but for the most part Germans listen to the current American tunes...with one exception.  It has literally been days since I last listened to the radio without hearing The Spin Doctors' "Two Princes."  Now don't get me wrong,  it's a phenomenal song.  But it's from 19-flippin'-'93.  Just for some perspective:  On this date in 1993 Monica Seles was stabbed in the back, and somewhere in some nerdy newspaper there was probably mention of the formation of something called the "World Wide Web."  So yeah, Germans love The Spin Doctors.

Nothing Number 2:

No one has beards over here and it's starting to bother me.  Maybe it's because I grew up staring an awesome beard in the face every single day, but the lack of bearded faces disturbs me.  As an act of defiance I am in the process of growing my own bad ass beard.

Nothing Number Last:

The coach of our youth team was going to be late for practice on Tuesday and asked me if I could run practice for him.  I happily obliged and believe I ran the best practice these little German boys and girls have ever been a part of.  I split the kids up into two groups, going over infield fundamentals with one group while Kacee did outfield work with the other.  There were 10 boys and 2 girls at practice, and I made it a point to make sure that I didn't address the girls as 'guys,' as in, "Hey guys, you need to make sure you keep your gloves down."  About an hour into practice one of the little girls comes up to me and says, "Nett, I'm a boy."

And now I know why I was confident that little girl was going to grow up to be a lesbian.  

Oh, and if you didn't know, those blue words are hyper-links to related websites.  Meaning they're 'clickable'...Dad.

Manual Transmission

Until last night I hadn't driven a stick-shift in 6 years, and even back in '03 I never really drove on a 'road'.  So you can understand my fearful excitement when Kevin tossed me the keys to his  manual transmission automobile last night after he had one too many bottles of golden nectar at the youth center.  You read it right.  I said youth center.

Connected to the kindergarten located down the right field line of The Boars' home field is a youth center.  By ascending steps, one may pass from the youth center proper to the youth center bar.  The bar is more reminiscent of a coffee house than of any bar I've ever seen.  There are several couches, a few round tables with chairs, free wireless internet access, 2 euro bottles of beer, and bags of chips that come gratis.  They serve no coffee, but you can get tea or lemonade.   Bavarian playing cards are available upon request, and the bar is equipped with a projector and movie screen for live broadcasts of soccer matches and Germany's Next Top Model.  If you run out of smokes, don't worry, there's a cigarette machine inside and a smoking porch just out the door.

I don't know about you, but I'm used to youth centers being publicly funded places for nerds to play Dungeons and Dragos and neglected children to tag with four letter words or pictures of the male anatomy.  I'm used to youth centers pretending to be a place free of alcohol and cigarettes.  I'm used to youth centers being an empty waste of space.  I am not used to youth centers acting as the spot for 18-24 year old men and women still living at home and looking to have a relaxing night out without having to go into the city on a school night.  

But back to the driving:  

After an hour or two at the youth center we decided it was time to leave.  Kevin was probably under the legal limit, but didn't want to chance it, and being the only sober person without a car of his own, I found myself in the driver's seat.  I smoothly backed the car out of the spot, shifted direclty into third gear, and somehow managed not to stall out as I pulled to the edge of the parking lot.  As I went to turn out of the lot, however, my six years of rust caught up to me and I stalled out.  I restarted the car in first and made my turn.  As I felt the engine grumble I smoothly shifted into...wait for it...third gear.  

2 minutes later we arrived safely at Kevin's house.

Me: 1 - Stick-Shift: 0

Picture Book Style

For the last few days I've been trying to figure out how to tell you the story of my first night out in Munich.  I was originally going to write a third person narrative, but realized that the story itself was not good enough to be told without my personal asides, tangents, and observations.  I began scribing a poem, but after a few lackluster stanzas decided to scrap it.  For a while I thought the story might not carry enough weight to merit a post, but then I remembered something:  I have pictures.  So here we go - a story with pictures of my first night out in Munich.

A few of the Boars met up at our center fielder's house, but before I could enter I became enthralled with the garage.   By all outward appearances it was a two car garage, but upon further inspection I found it capable of housing four distinct automobiles.  It was somewhat higher than a regular garage, but what made this car house so special was the automated car lift. Take a look for yourself:

This is Kacee excited by the awesome garage.

Before I move forward with the story I need you to know a few things.  First, when my teammates picked me up I was told to go back inside to change into pants.  Apparently the club we were going to wouldn't let me in without them, and although this sucks and I spent a good part of the night sweating, it is sometimes a necessary evil.  Second, I had business cards made up that say, "Ted Mosby Architect."  There is no other information on the cards.  This will make sense to few of you, but suffice it to say that it is an awesome joke from an awesome TV show.

After hanging out for a little while we headed off for the S-Bahn and our 25 minute ride into Munich, but before we got on the train we spotted a few ladies also waiting for the train.  I handed Kevin my camera, got out my business cards, and approached the ladies.  With the lens accuratetly focused, I made my move.  "Ted Mosby...*wink*...*finger point*...*click*...architect." They didn't get the joke but laughed nonetheless.  I got my picture.

"Ted Mosby.  Architect."

Alex and Kacee had stopped at the bank to get some Euros and wound up having to run to catch the train, but once they did and we settled in it was a rather easy, comfortable ride.  We had the back corner of the S-Bahn mostly to ourselves, and my four teammates wasted no time in finishing a fifth of Screwdrivers.  We had a nearby passenger take this photo.

Whoops.  Wrong photo.  That's Kevin proudly displaying his Screwdriver and Chris kissing Alex.  An odd sentence, I know, but true nonetheless.  These two are the weirdest straight kids I've ever met.  I've seen them spoon feed each other.  Seriously, it's the gayest thing ever...not that there's anything wrong with that.  But anyway, here's the picture of the five of us.

Kacee is staring at me like the psycho-killer I'm afraid he  may be.

After about 20 minutes on the train we were joined by a bachelorette party.  Now I've never been to one of these in the States, but I find it safe to assume that American brides-to-be do not go around town with dollar-store crap-filled cardboard boxes tied around their necks by lines of string.  So what did I do?   I gave her friend a business card, made her take a picture, and refused to buy anything.

She looks great!

A few minutes later we said goodbye to our new friends and got off the train.  Expecting to be in downtown Munich I was much surprised to find myself in what could only be called the sketchy outskirts of the city.  Upon exiting the station my boys decided it was time for a much needed toilet break.  Instead of a toilet, however, they chose a bridge.

No need for a caption here.

We took a tram from wherever we were to some even more remote corner of the city, at which point we realized no one really knew where we were going.  We had a name, Backstage, and we had a general part of town, but as to the exact location of the bar we were clueless.  Luckily we ran into some young ladies headed to the same club.

Me, Toni, Kacee, and Josephine...or something like that.

I've been to few clubs that meet expectations, and this was no exception.  Like any club, Backstage reeked of cigarette smoke.  People moved spastically to music pumped at deafening levels.  I left feeling hoarse and deaf, but I left having had a phenomenal time.  It's not the club, or the bar, or the movie you see that really makes or breaks a night.  It's the people you go with, and on Saturday my teammates became my friends.

Chris, Alex, Mattias, Kacee, Kevin, Me

Kevin was in charge of the late night roundup, and with the clock ticking dangerously close to 2:20, the time of the last train home, we found ourselves still wandering the streets of Munich's outskirts.  Kacee had long ago taken off his shoes.  Chris had decided he would go off by himself, and we were in danger of losing sight of Alex, who was falling more behind every second as he slowly made his way next to Josephine.  

After missing our train and getting a bite to eat, we decided it better to take a 20 Euro cab ride than wait another 2 hours for the next S-Bahn.  We got off the train, said our goodbyes, and went our seperate ways.  

I walked up the stairs at 4 am, tired in body, awake in mind, and deaf in both ears. 

Kacee Kenobi

This quiz allows 1 minute per question, and as such should take no longer than 3 minutes to complete.  Take your time and read every question completely.  The answers are provided.

1.  Fill in the blank.  There are no wrong answers here.

A house is _______.  

Now raise your hand if you answered, "a face."

Good, Americans, no hands.  That means you're all functional, possibly even rational human beings.  Now Germans, I'm a little dissapointed.  You all know that a house is indeed a face.   

study tip:  Note how the upstairs balcony acts as a unibrow, protecting the window eyes and wooden nose from the sun's violent glare.  After the sun goes down the house is often caught winkng, with one window dark and the other lit up.

2.  On an official German visa document, what did my Australian teammate list as his religion?

It may surprise you that 'aboriginal' is not a religion, and that even if it were, most Australians actually descend from British prisoners.  It may also surprise you that our rock musician pitcher listed Jedi on this official document, as if he's some sort of guitar yielding Obi-Wan, which I hope for the sake of sweetness that he is.

3.  For how long has Kacee the Jedi had a middle name?  And for how long has he known it?

When asked to provide his middle name Kacee reached into his pocket to consult his passport.  It turns out Kacee was given the middle name of Taylor at birth, but until a few weeks ago didn't even know he had one.  

Oh, and my baseball team played like horse poopy today, dropping both ends of a double header.

'A'-king

I've been here for close to two weeks now and have begun noticing some differences between German and American culture.  Some of these things you literally won't believe.  For instance, people here speak using some sort of crazy, made up language.  They will look you right in your good eye and sputter the most bizarre, incoherent, and nonsensical sounds you've ever heard...and expect a coherent response.  I refuse to oblige.  On the other hand, many of these cultural differences are easily believable.  They are as follows:

1.  SHOES

I do not believe that Germans by definition have small feet, but I do know that they wear tiny shoes.  They all walk around in narrow soled, paper thin sneakers.  (Think two size too small, extremely worn out Sambas.)  This may be good for a soccer game, but for just plain walking around it must be awful.  I believe their thinking is, "Hey, a foosball (yes, that's what they call it) match could break out at any minute.  I need to be ready."  

2.  DIRECTIONS

German people ask for directions much more than Americans.  I've been here for 12 days and have already given blank stares to at least 7 different people.  I can't imagine how many times I would have been asked if I wore tiny sneakers and shirts without English writing.  

I was even asked directions in downtown Munich while trying to take a picture of some old building with a clock tower.  If focusing your camera upward in the most touristy part of the city doesn't scream "I don't know where anything is!" than I don't know what does.

3.  TIME

The Germans do not realize that it is not 1991.  They still zip up the yellow track jacket, lace up the Reebok Pumps, and throw Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em into the Walkman before heading out for a power walk. 

I wish that were true.  I really do.  But it's not.  They do still inline skate, though, so I think that's close enough.

4.  ACHING

They just can't say it.  I don't know if it's genetic or what, but they all say 'H'-ing, instead of...well you know how to say it.

These are the things that I have noticed so far.  I'll make sure to keep you updated as I delve farther into this exciting world of sauerkraut and oddities

Six Hours

I didn't want to do this.  I really didn't.  I figured I'd hoard my adventures and keep the masses guessing.  "What time is it over there?" they'd say.  And I wouldn't answer.

But that would be selfish, which much like shell fish isn't kosher.   Anyone who can say that sentence out loud for the first time and not stumble deserves a prize.  If you succeed let me know and I'll send you something.  Probably not something cool, but something nonetheless.

As I transition from my short digression from my thesis, allow me to get back on topic.  My plan really was to contact individual people as I did or saw things I thought they'd enjoy, but the powers that be had other plans.  Those members of the 'Adult Table' have certain necessities which we 'Kids Table Alumni Class of Never' do not.  Despite their general lack of technological aptitude (certain uncles not withstanding), the older generation needs constant information.  So I will provide:

It is six hours later here than on the East Coast.