Signs

On the whole I'm not really big on dogs. They smell damp, I'm irritated by their blind devotion and I don't like the little plastic bags of poo that seem to go with dog ownership. But having said that, if I had to have a dog, I'd choose a dachshund. It's the ridiculous proportions, I think. Long body. Stumpy legs. It's funny. I pass this sign when I'm dropping M off at kinder and I always admire it. I like the way it's so specific: No dachshunds on this grass - any other type of dog ok. I also love the way the dachshund has just skillfully slid out from underneath the red line, like it's saying 'yeah, well just you try to stop me. My stumpy legs and ridiculously long body makes it easy for me to escape your stupid sign.'

Further down the same path is this sign:



I don't know what kind of dog this one is, but it's not nearly as sneaky as the dachshund. It's just standing there passively, letting that red line hold it back.


Another favourite sign of mine belongs to a chain of health food shops:


I noticed this sign first because I have a second cousin called Freya. Then the more I noticed it, the more I realised there was to love about it. Firstly, how great is it to have a health food shop called a reformhaus. It sounds so severe and punitive. Reformhaus Freya sounds even better - it makes me think of the title of a cheap paperback from the 50s with a lurid cover.

Here's another shop sign I love:



Doesn't Schrumpf sound exactly like the noise of biting into an apple?

This one is good too:



I would love to meet Herr Schlapp - or maybe view him from a distance. I can picture him so clearly. He'd be some leering, red-faced middle-aged man with large hands and a cheap suit. I'm always on the lookout for names that would hyphenate well with Badger and I think Schlapp-Badger is pretty much perfect. I bet he causes poor old Herr Habel no end of grief.

This is Not a Kindergarten

The big blockbuster art exhibition at the Frankfurt gallery this winter was Botticelli. I wasn't going to see it, especially after going to the Uffizi in January and seeing a room full of Botticellis there. But then one of the German mothers from the kindergarten invited me and as I knew I'd get in for free with my gallery card I decided I would.

My friend was bringing along her sister and also her child - an incredibly well-behaved, perfect little three year old who always makes me doubt my parenting skills. I decided against bringing Mads as Botticelli isn't her favourite. Too decorative, not enough substance, she reckons.

It was the right decision, for the moment we walked in with V's little girl the gallery guards were on our case.
'Don't let her touch anything,' they said - like we were going to let her start rubbing her hands all over the Birth of Venus (which wasn't there anyway - it was at the Uffizi). 'Don't get too close.' 'Don't stand there.' etc etc. I started getting a little jumpy.

The worst incident was when we were standing in front of a wall of information reading the notes - there wasn't a single painting anywhere nearby at all. V noticed that there was quite a strong backlight - the whole space had been set up in this very reverential, church-like way with dim rooms and spot lights - and she started making a shadow-puppet bird on the wall to amuse her daughter. The aunt joined in, making her hand into a dog. Straight away, one of the guards rushed over and said something in German and the puppet show abruptly ended.
'What did he say?' I asked.
'He said "This is not a kindergarten. You have to be respectful",' said V.

'This is very typical of art galleries in Germany,' said the aunt. 'You are not supposed to enjoy yourself. You are supposed to take it very seriously.' I looked around and saw exactly what she meant. People looked like they were in pain - solemn, gloomy faces, clutching their gallery guides and frowning at the paintings, like somehow they weren't giving them what they'd hoped for.

When I told Thieu about it later he said 'let's go in tomorrow with Mads. That will make them appreciate the next well-behaved, quiet German child that goes in.'

Five Day Forecast

I like the way the weather people try to break up the repetitiveness of a forecast like this by distinguishing between 'light snow' and a 'light snow shower'.

Thieu is still attempting to dry his shirts by hanging them on the balcony. If you tap them, they shatter.

Never mind the Ps and Qs

Did you notice how in my last post I didn't apologise for the lack of recent posting. That was because one of my New Year's Resolutions is to cut down on apologising and saying thankyou.

I have always been a big over-thanker and in Germany I've been told that it's frowned upon as being insincere and something that English people do. God forbid. I think it's something Australians do too, although I suspect my over-thanking is excessive. This would be a typical exchange for me if, for instance, I'd gone into a shop to buy a house brick.

Me: (handing over house brick) Thanks! (presumably meaning - "thanks for allowing me to buy this house brick").
Shop assistant: Would you like that wrapped?
Me: Thanks!
Shop assistant: that will be ten dollars.
Me: (handing over the money) Thanks! (presumably meaning - "thanks for accepting my money for the purchase of this house brick").
Shop assistant: Would you like a bag?
Me: No thanks!
Shap assistant: Goodbye.
Me: (leaving shop exhausted) Thanks. Thanks a lot.

I'd continued this bad habit here in Germany until Matty pointed out, when he visited us in October, that when you hand over money in Germany and say 'danke' it basically means 'you've done such a great job that I want you to keep the change. No really, keep it.' This was quite a revelation and explained the confused looks I'd been getting at the supermarket checkout and train station. Clearly it was a habit I had to break and I'm trying, although it's a struggle.

The other thing - the apologising - isn't too bad, although I do slip up occasionally. The thing that helps me there is that the word for excuse me - Entschuldigung - is such an awkward word to get out. Once I've managed to form it in my brain, the recipient of my apology is often long gone.

Over here it's considered ridiculous to apologise for things that didn't happen. If you don't actually crash into someone, but narrowly miss instead, why apologise for it? If you do, the other person will look at you in confusion and say 'but nothing happened,' then walk away muttering 'weirdo.' As for that bizarre English habit of apologising when someone crashes into you ('Oh my Lord I'm so sorry for being in your way just when you weren't looking where you were going!') that's just not done either.

Yesterday a woman stopped me on the street and started asking for directions. Maybe I could've worked it out, but I snapped into auto pilot.
'Sorry,' I said (in German) 'I don't speak German.' She turned way angrily, saying what I think basically translated as
'Yeah, that'd be right. Weirdo.'

So on the whole, I'm very much into my not-apologising resolution. I think it'll help me blend in.


Here are some other resolutions I'd make if there were any chance of them being achieveable:

- grow more bottom eyelashes (just to be clear - that's eyelashes on my bottom eyelids, not eyelashes on my bottom). I swear I used to have them. Now they're mostly gone. Oh how I wish everytime I'd brushed an eyelash off my cheek in irritation I'd stored it in some dainty little eyelash box so it could be transplanted now that I need replacements.

-learn to speak German. This just aint happening. Mads officially understands way more than me. And she loves to correct my pronunciation. Show-off kid.

Ugg Love

OK, so I have to admit I've owned ugg boots before. Growing up in Ringwood it was practically manditory. The thing I remember about them most was that if you walked more than a few hundred metres in them your feet began to melt from overheating. And I remember that they became smelly quickly. It was only later that I realised they were also deeply unfashionable and something you should probably not admit to ever having owned.

So at first I was quite surprised to see the popularity of ugg boots in Frankfurt - especially on otherwise stylishly dressed women. Someone told me it was because Posh Spice wore some once, but I haven't been able to find any photographic evidence of this. And then as the temperature began to drop I began finding myself looking at the uggs around me with a certain amount of envy. The ugg wearers looked comfy. They weren't hoping from one foot to the other in an agitated fashion. They seemed at ease with the ugliness of their footwear. I found myself examining at a pair in a shop. Do you know how much ugg boots cost here? Anywhere between 160 euros to 300 euros. Go and currency-convert that and truly your ghast will be flabbered.

Things sped up after that. There was a quick email to the Parental Unit,which set in motion a trip to the Vic market. Then lo - I had acquired myself a Christmas present. 75 Aussie bucks thanks very much. Stubbie holder thrown in for free.

At first I promised myself that my uggs would only take me to the local park and the swimming pool - nowhere else. But then I found myself conveniently forgetting I had them on and heading to the supermarket in them. And then to the further-away supermarket. Then one day I thought 'stuff it, I'm going to kindy in them,' and that's what I did, although I could see the teachers staring ('there goes that weird foriegn mother in her 300 euro shoes'). And you know what? It felt great. My toes were so snuggly and happy that I stopped caring. Warm feet = happiness. I smiled smugly at anyone who stared. Yes, they're ugg boots. They feel good. Stuff you. The day we went tobogganing and mum was practically crying from the coldness of her toes confirmed my ugg love because my feet were fine.

So now I wear them everywhere. And they don't even stink yet.

Snowflakes

The locals are convinced on a strong link between inappropriate clothing and illness. Go outside during winter without decent shoes and you'll get a kidney infection. Leave a milimetre of neck skin uncovered and your lungs will shrivel up. Three days into this latest bout of cold weather Mads' eye gunked up. Perhaps it was because her tights aren't thick enough - whatever the reason I couldn't send poor old puss-eyes off to kinder like that so it was off to the doctor with us on Wednesday morning. Mum and dad decided to fill the time by going to the travel agent.

On the walk back home from the doctor's, it started snowing. Mads and I walked along with out mouths open, trying to catch snowflakes. When mum and dad arrived home we told them about the snowflake-in-mouth-catching and mum said 'we did the same thing.'

My dad is full of praise for Frankfurt ('I like the architecture! The people in the shops are very helpful!'), but my mum seems somewhat underwhelmed. I took her to H & M - a shop she'd been keen to visit and she was disapointed by their underwear range.
'What were you expecting?' I asked. It looked like a pretty standard range of underwear to me.
'Just something a little more cutting edge,' mum said.

I'm not sure where you need to go for cutting edge undies. Maybe Japan?

Last Sunday we went to the natural history museum, which has an enormous diplidocus and a t.rex model out the front.
'They're not very good, are they?' mum said.
'What do you mean?' I asked.
'Well, they're a bit cheesy, don't you think?'

Mum does approve of the local bread though. And the beer, which is not too fizzy.

Arrivals

There were a number of exciting arrivals last week. On Friday a bubbled-wrapped package from Hardie Grant turned up containing Tweenie Genie 2 with its pretty rasperry cover. Happinesss.

Then, on Saturday morning, there was an even more exciting arrival: Arma and Arpa. (They were not in bubble wrap but definitely well rugged up.) Mads and I got up at 5 am to catch the train out to the airport to meet them, and although we had a bit of difficulty finding the exit point we did eventually locate them. Mads dressed in her Sam Sam outfit for the occasion. It was a very joyful reunion and we may not let them leave again.

Up until this point it really hasn't been that cold in Frankfurt. But on Saturday, the wind started blowing from the north (that is, the North Pole) and things have suddenly become a whole lot colder. The weather forecasts all kept promising snow on Sunday and I had early reports from other families living just out of Frankfurt that there was enough snow where they were to make small snowmen. I was desperate for it to snow here, too. Sadly, we didn't get anything like that amount of snow - just a few flakes whirling around in a dandruff-like way - but still, it's the first time we'd experienced snow in an urban setting and it was exciting. Today's top is 0 degrees, but no snow unfortunately. Maybe there will be some by Christmas though.