Auf wiedersehen , Hamburg!

Well, it's taken me over a month to write this up, but I figured it was finally time to cover the last weekend of my German stay. Mostly because this past weekend I was in New York and really need to get some more updates going.... more on that later.

My last European update left off after my return to Hamburg from Ireland. I had only the Thursday and Friday left at work before leaving on Monday for Canada.

Because so many of my coworkers from Online were vacationing that week my days at work were pretty quiet. On Thursday I went out for lunch with my boss (who is also an old friend of my uncle's). Because of some details relating to selling the apartment I had been staying in he kindly offered to be my host for my final weekend in Hamburg. On Friday I had one final lunch with the Advertising boys, which was fun and a little nostalgic. I found it pretty funny how much their English had deteriorated in the eight weeks since we had been working together. The rest of the afternoon passed quietly enough, but when the end of the day came around I noticed the whole floor of the agency was all gathered up around the meeting table. I wandered out and everyone was looking at me, and then they presented me with a little gift and a card everyone had signed. On the card was a picture of the How I Met Your Mother cast, though they had photoshopped my face over Robin Scherbatsky's, and below had put "How I Met Your Mudda", a word-play on my first German words "deine mudda". I, of course, got totally overwhelmed and started tearing up, then made a probably incoherent speech about my time there.

That, however, was not the end of the night. Our agency is split up into two buildings, one of which is Advertising, Design, Online, (generally the more Creative side of things) then the other  building that mainly houses PR, Accounts, Management and other such administrative type things. That Friday night we were having a big company party to encourage everyone to get to know one another (A Team themed party, I might add). Like most German parties, everyone got pretty drunk at the open bar and had a prodigiously good time singing and dancing to hits of the '90s. I wound up swing dancing with a member of senior management who was delightedly telling me about his recent marriage (I think... it was really tough to hear). It was a brilliantly fun send off. Though in a particularly obnoxious turn of fate, I happened to meet a charming, attractive, tall, successful, single gentleman who was actually interested in me. Go figure. Neither of us was pleased that I was leaving the damn continent in three days. Thanks Europe. Nothing but married men for three and a half months and then Prince Charming days before I leave.

Anyway, the next day was my boss' father's birthday, so I joined his family in journeying to the countryside outside of Hamburg for the party. I was a little nervous that it would be awkward since I'm essentially a complete stranger and can't even speak German, but the family was so welcoming. For my benefit they all spoke English, and my boss' parents were probably the sweetest people in the world. The area they lived in was also exceptionally beautiful, and it was nice to get a sense of what there was outside of Hamburg. I had a great chat with the birthday-man, who happened to be pretty hilarious. He asked if I was planning to be in Design permanently, and when I said I had lots of different plans for my future he replied "Good, you're too smart to waste your whole life on that." Haha classic old man honesty.

I should add that my boss happens to live in one of Hamburg's nicest communities. His residence is right near the lake, on a tree-lined street with gorgeous white Victorian townhouses and wrought-iron gates. It was a pleasure to stay there and get to walk around the area.

Once we had returned from the countryside birthday party I headed downtown to try and get my final shopping out of the way. I needed another bag (too much shopping during my trip) and also had to find a souvenir for my father, which I eventually was successful at getting. While wandering around I did see the craziest thing though. Right in the middle of the shopping district was a giant and rather frightening looking man hauling around a giant wooden cross and shouting German at passersby. I would have taken a picture if I wasn't genuinely concerned for my safety. Shortly thereafter I decided I needed some caffeine and headed over to Starbucks, where the freak-parade continued. As I was standing at the bar waiting for my order, the man ahead of me picked up his: a venti white mocha. For those of you who are coffee-illiterate, a venti white mocha is a 20 ounce drink made up of two shots of espresso combined with white hot chocolate and then topped with whipped cream and white chocolate sauce (thanks, job at a coffee shop!). It is probably one of the highest fat and calorie drinks you can order, not to mention it is bordering on sickly sweet. I then observed the gentleman take his sugar-fest diabetes-inducing drink to the condiments stand, where he casually poured half of a giant tumbler of sugar into the drink. I mean it, he poured almost half of that sugar in there. I could barely contain my laughter, though the thought of all that sugar made my teeth hurt for all the cavities I'm sure he has. Now you're probably imagining a morbidly obese man right now, but in fact this guy was pretty young and really skinny. All I can say is I'd hate to be him when that metabolism slows down. As though that hadn't been enough hilarity for one night, on my way back to the metro I passed yet another comedic sight. I was using a crosswalk when two gentlemen pulled up to a red light in a flashy convertible with the top down. Despite it being well after dark, I'm quite sure one or both of them were wearing sunglasses. The best part? They were blaring Bollywood music like it was the coolest shit this side of Ibiza. Once again I had to suppress laughter as the President and Vice President of the Douche Squad rolled on by.

The next day (my last in Europe) I was determined not to spend packing. So, in the morning I got my stuff together, then went to my favourite place - the Alsterarkaden - to meet up with a friend from work. We got coffee and hung out there for a bit, then moved on to get lunch. We finished the day by walking around the lakes, something I hadn't actually done before. Unfortunately the day was fairly overcast, but I was still pretty pleased with how it went. When I got back to my host's place a friend of his was visiting and so we all chatted for a while. The friend (whose name I absolutely cannot remember) was very interesting and for quite some time had been a European fashion mogul. I was therefore all the more delighted when he complimented me on the design of my shirt and the colour of my fur scarf (which has turned out to be one of my best European purchases). Anyway, we all decided to go out for dinner at a place called Brücke. Brücke is a small little restaurant/bar that was once a choice Hollywood hang out. It was started by a rather famous restauranteur and has a great reputation. We started with champagne (which I have developed quite a taste for), and then I had a fried fish on a bed of lentils, with perhaps the best sauce I've ever had. It was fantastic! The three of us debated spending a night out on the town, but concluded that since my flight was so early it was probably best that we get to bed early.

The next day it was off to the airport at something like 5:30am. My first flight was from Hamburg to Frankfurt, and of course it was delayed by at least an hour thanks to one of the runways getting shut down. This stressed me out a little since I had a connection to make and really didn't want to push my timeline. Anyway, eventually I got on the flight and arrived in Frankfurt without too much trouble. If you'll recall Frankfurt is one of the largest airports in the world, and dragging myself through it was not what I would call "fun". Anyway, after jumping through hoops with security I arrived at the correct gate, and finally it was on to the giant air bus headed for Vancouver International. Unfortunately, unlike my flight from Vancouver to Hamburg I was not seated by any handsome gentlemen this time around - just some stringy looking quiet guy. I was, however, one seat over from a window and right next to the aisle, which definitely improved my flying experience. Though I had hoped to get some sleep, instead I wound up watching a ton of movies. I started with the new Pirates of the Caribbean (sucked), then watched Bad Teacher (better than I expected), Thor (which I've already seen), Something Borrowed (sucked), The Green Lantern (sucked), Voyage of the Dawntreader (sucked), and probably at least one other film I can't even remember. I believe once I'd run out of movies I moved on to 30 Rock, and then an episode of Modern Family. It was a long flight. One of the coolest parts was flying over Greenland. I had been too far from a window on the way to Europe to see anything, but on the way back I was able to glimpse the endless hills of snow in the arctic. It was incredible! I've never seen anything like it, and I wish I could've gotten a picture or even just looked at it longer.

After ten and a half hours in the air we finally landed in Vancouver, and then I had to deal with at least an hour or two of customs, duties, and security. The fact that I had been out of the country for so long also made things more confusing, though I haven't been hunted down yet by the IRS so I'm guessing I didn't fuck anything up too badly.

There are a lot of things I've taken away from my time in Europe, and I expect I'll discover many more as time goes by. First, it's given me a better understanding of my own culture, country, and what it means to be a Canadian: an identity I only had a vague sense of before. Second, it taught me a lot about culture in general. During my first month in Germany I resented that the culture wasn't as open as my own: I was constantly frustrated that it was so difficult to connect with people, and I concluded that it was a closed-minded way of operating. Ironically, I was the one who was being closed-minded. While I will still tell you that the Northern German culture is more reserved, I won't say that that's a bad thing. It's simply different. While their friendship is a little more work to come by, once you have it you can depend upon it. I hope that in the future I'll be able to experience more cultures and continue learning these lessons.

Another thing I gained from my time overseas was an increased faith in my abilities and a greater independence. While I've always been a fairly independent person, I now feel like I can do just about anything: nothing could ever be as much of a challenge as working and living on the other side of the world in a culture I'm not familiar with, in a country whose language I don't speak, and on a continent where I know no one. These days I am more likely to look at a situation and see opportunities to be grasped rather than challenges I cannot overcome. I am also not afraid to be alone. I know I can take care of myself, and that I don't need to rely upon anyone else to do the things I'm interested in. My travels taught me to be alone in a way that I don't think I could've learned otherwise.

I'll always look upon my time in Europe as a significant period of growth, learning, and change in my personal history. I am so overjoyed that I got to go, and I can't wait to have more adventures just like it.

Let's shut our eyes and pretend none of it ever happened

I owe you a post. Enough said.

So much has been going on in the last couple of months, and there's so much I've been meaning to get up here. It's been almost a month since I left Germany and came back to Canada, and it's been exactly a week since moving to Toronto and starting my new job. In four months I've changed time zones at least five or so times and I've been on at least a dozen flights between four countries and two continents. For someone who has spent the majority of their life in a quiet corner of the province this has been a lot of activity. I have a piece in the works about my last few weeks in Germany, but I'm afraid this isn't it. Work has been so busy that I just don't have the time to dedicate to writing coherently these days.

Speaking of work, I suppose you may be interested in a brief rundown of what I'm up to. Basically I'm working with a graphic design company and an interior design company for some developers who are building townhomes etcetera. The body of my company is located out West, so I've been sent here to be a liaison between East, West, and everyone else involved (architects, landscapers, realtors, lawyers, printers and more). I had expected to be working very much on the creative aspects of things (this is, after all, where the bulk of my experience lies), but instead I've found my role has been much more on-the-ground assistance. I ensure everyone has the files they need, attend meetings, make presentations, source materials (such as printers or audio/visual groups), and spend what must be the majority of my time on the phone getting everyone up to speed on our project progress.

The last few days have been particularly busy as we are all scrambling to get things together for a big event we have next week. I spent my morning rushing between meetings with an audio/visual consultant and our printers, then put in another nine hours at the office making all the necessary edits and adjustments to our materials. Luckily the very intense conclusion to my degree has prepared me well for barrages of deadlines and I've been able to keep going without completely losing my mind: "keep calm and carry on" and all that.

I am thoroughly delighted to say that all of the feedback I've received regarding my work has been wonderful. It's immeasurably reassuring to know that even though you feel completely inadequate and unprepared that others perceive you as put-together and competent. While things are very hectic at the moment it doesn't at all detract from the learning experience. The work here is very different (though still related) to what I did in Germany, and seems to be yet another step in discovering all about this industry. Every day is a new challenge but no matter what I'll finish up with so much more knowledge, confidence and skills than when I started. Not to mention an amazing reference for my resume.

But before I get too smug and you get too annoyed, let's get to what's really been on my mind. For reasons I have yet to uncover I've been in the strangest mood lately. I think part of it is that things are progressing at such a rate that everything seems more than a little surreal. I haven't had sufficient time to process exactly all that has happened, and when I try to I get a little dumbstruck.

Also, I think the move to this new city is making me consider a few things I haven't given thought (deliberately or otherwise). For starters, it seems to be some kind of law of nature that whenever your professional career takes off your love life takes a proportionate dive for the worse. More and more lately I've been overwhelmed by frustration when it comes to my poor luck. The majority of you will already be familiar with my inability to find even ONE single man during my time overseas. I had hoped to leave this problem where it belonged - in Europe - but alas, it followed me home. No sooner did I arrive in Toronto and attend my first business pre-holiday party (yeah, they have those here and they are just as glamorous as you are imagining) than I found an amazingly cute guy, who *gloriously* seemed to reciprocate my interest. Well, we chatted, we laughed, and then two or so hours later I discovered - through someone else, of course - that he was married. Ladies and gentlemen: my life. It's just so beyond ridiculous. While the guy himself is clearly a scumbag and I have comfortably and easily banished from my mind, the overall trend of being unable to find anyone single is really grating on my nerves. It's gotten to the point where it's really difficult to look at any prospect with even the smallest degree of positivity since with my luck it just won't work out. Depressing. There are soooo many men in Toronto but all of a sudden I have this unshakable defeatist attitude that's getting me down like nothing else. To boot, I've managed to meet someone too-good-to-be-true. While there is a teensy-tiny ray of hope, I can't bring myself to look at it with any real enthusiasm: to hope is to open oneself to disappointment, and right now that's all I've been getting so why should this time be any different?

This odd combination of such surreal momentum in my professional life yet such tiresome frustration in my personal life keeps calling to mind this particular phrase: "let's shut our eyes and pretend none of it ever happened." Some weeks ago this popped into my head and like a catchy song I haven't been able to forget it. It may be that it's a line from a movie, a lyric from a song, or maybe I even came up with it myself. Whatever its genesis, it's been stuck in my head and seems to encapsulate much of my current situation. There's more though: to really tie things together in a so-weird-it's-ridiculous kind of way, I stumbled across something I might rather not have in my email today.

Perhaps a year ago I made a new email account since my old address was from elementary school days and bore an appropriately embarrassing name. When I did, I suppose I imported all the emails from my "Saved" folder of the old account. Today, as it happened, I thought I had accidentally drag-and-drop copied an entire other folder into the saved folder, and so I opened it up - my first time doing so since activating my new email - and checked the contents.

What I found inside produced a similar effect as a punch to the gut might. Inside were the last emails I ever received from my two close friends who were killed in a car accident just over five years ago. I don't think I've looked at those in over four years; I'd forgotten I even had them. One email was from the day before the accident, discussing our plans to all go together to the lake the next day - I had replied saying that was the only day I couldn't attend due to an orthodontics appointment. It's chilling to contemplate where I might (or might not) be today had I been in the car with them. "Pretend none of it ever happened" indeed.

Five years later and I still have no idea what to do with that knowledge.

Surreal, surreal, surreal. Life is surreal.

Irish Times

Alright, so due to the sheer volume of material I want to cover I've decided it will be much simpler if I break things up a little bit.  So, this post will be dedicated to my visit to Ireland and the week that preceded it.

As it happened I had one last weekend between France and Ireland during which I got to enjoy Hamburg without dealing with packing and other such craziness.  I took advantage of the sun and the free time to say my final goodbyes to my favourite part of Hamburg: the Alsterarkaden.  Once I had gotten myself some caffeine I set up camp on the steps of the canal, fished out my notebook and started sketching the far side.  When I had first arrived in Germany my work had gifted me with a small company notebook which evolved into something of a travel diary for me.  At first I put in directions, maps, and itineraries, but later I included passing observations, notes to include in my blog, and sketches of particularly interesting subjects.  It is now one of my favourite souvenirs from my trip.

The day was fairly pleasant and uneventful, though I became very irritated with some passing tourists.  You see, down in the canals is a great collection of birds.  Mostly pigeons and seagulls but also swans, all of whom are drawn to the bread hand-outs by locals.  These tourists, however, weren't passing out food.  Instead, they were approaching the human-desensitized wildlife and kicking at them until the focus of their cruelty flew away.  I quietly hoped that they would fall into the canal in the process, and resolved that if they did I wouldn't lift a finger to help them.

The other moment of note was while I was sketching away.  I was listening to Patrick Watson's "Mr. Tom" on my iPod, and there was a street performer about 25 metres away.  He was entertaining the crowd with torch throwing and balancing, and he added to the show by screaming theatrically/maniacally.  Just at that moment, church bells began to toll.  It was such a surreal moment.  It seemed like the kind of audio-mix you see in film sometimes, where the protagonist stares into the distance broodingly while the world whirls past in slow motion.  But, as always happens, the moment passed, and real life restarted.  Below is the Patrick Watson track, which (I think) was really what set the tone for the experience.

The week passed quickly, and next thing I knew it was Friday.  Most of my coworkers from Online were vacationing during my last week, so it was something of a last goodbye for me.  For lunch we all went out for sushi (I'm sorry to say it had nothing on sushi in Vancouver), followed by the best cupcake I've had.  Ever.  Which brings me to a piece of advice: if you ever find yourself in Hamburg, the best bakery of all time is Liebes Bisschen, and the best salad I've ever had the honour to consume can be found at Esszimmer.  You can never go wrong with a mound of fresh greens, great dressing, and baked goat cheese.  Sigh.

But back to Friday.  Anyway, that evening we had another company party.  My employers recently bought a smaller company, and so we had a mixer so all the new employees could get to know one another.  It was a lot of fun, though I got my ass handed to me at foosball.  Apparently that's pretty much all they do during their spare time.

I don't even remember what time I got home at, but luckily my flight wasn't until late afternoon the next day.  I made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, though I was irritated to discover that the "low-cost" airline charged to check any baggage whatsoever.  Thanks for the heads-up guys!  During the flight I wound up flipping through the airline's magazine, which was strange because I never do that.  However, I wound up stumbling upon a little article about something called City of a Thousand Welcomes.  It is something of a tourism project which aims to build on Ireland's reputation for hospitality.  Basically you sign up online and it will pair you with a host; someone who is passionate about Dublin.  You meet up at a prearranged time and go for tea or a pint, and they personally welcome you to the city and provide you with helpful pointers on how to best enjoy yourself.  Tired of traveling alone all the time, I signed up for the next day.

And it was a good thing I did!  Because I had signed up on such short notice I wound up being hosted by the company's founder.  We met up close to Saint Stephen's Green and Grafton Street and then relocated to Bewley's, a beautiful coffee shop right on Grafton Street.  If I remember correctly, the place was built in the late 19th century.  One of its most striking features is the stained glass windows, created by a famous Irish artist.  Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to get photos of them.  Anyway, in the end I was really pleased I had signed up.  I had a pleasant time with my host, who was happy to provide a wealth of personalized advice on what to do while I was in Dublin.

I spent most of the rest of the day doing a little exploring and shopping around the Grafton Street area.  I also got to stroll through St. Stephen's Green, a famous local park. That night I had planned on making a visit to the world-renowned Temple Bar Pub.  And venture out I did.  Unfortunately the weather had other plans for my night.  It had started raining heavily in the early afternoon, and by the time I left my hotel this had turned into a full-out gale.

Now I'd like to throw in a word about navigating in Europe.  Unlike in North America, where street names can be located on posts on every street corner - where they are readable and helpful - in Europe (I noticed this in both France and Ireland) street names can most of the time be found on small plaques placed on the second level of buildings on intersections.  Not every corner though, oh no.  So, you may find yourself at an intersection and the only way of figuring out where you are is by scanning the surrounding buildings, which may or may not have plaques on them.  Now imagine trying to do this at night, when the rain is blowing so strongly that you've lost count of the number of times your stupid umbrella has flipped inside out. Furthermore, crosswalk signals in Europe operate with different timing. Specifically one is allowed about twenty seconds to get across the road, but once this window is passed you will likely have to wait a good ten minutes or so until the next crossing. Apparently Europeans just ignore this and cross the road whenever they damn well feel like it and waiting around is the unmistakable mark of a tourist. I, however, have a strong respect for the damage vehicles can do to the human body and am more often happier to wait the two extra minutes rather than take a risk in areas where I'm totally unfamiliar with the traffic patterns.  To sum up, navigating was endlessly frustrating.

I wandered around the streets just long enough to get thoroughly wind-blown, bedraggled and angry.  To boot, Irish men - unlike German men - have no issue with voicing their admiration of passing women: a "pleasantry" which was rather unappreciated in my windswept and disoriented state.  Plus they were all like 50.  I got completely lost and wound up just giving up on finding the damn place.  Once back at my hotel I headed down to the bar where I nursed a whiskey sour while glaring at the rugby game playing on the TVs.

Weather-wise, the next day was more of the same.  The day started rainy and got progressively worse.  Despite the foul conditions I wandered over to Trinity College Dublin where I saw the Book of Kells (a medieval-era illuminated copy of the New Testament) and the "Long Room".  The exhibit showing in the Long Room was on the court of Louis XIV and consisted largely of books.  The Long Room was another of my favourite places from my European tour.  The photo (like most photos) doesn't quite do it justice.  The atmosphere is much more murky as the windows are all covered over to protect the books. The sense of space inside is so special though - it's the type of place I'd love to have a few hours to camp out within and just take in the surroundings.  The book of Kells exhibit was also really interesting, and included several video displays which demonstrated the medieval technique of book-making.  I was particularly interested in the ways in which the personalities of the various scribes and artists manifested in their different styles of ornamentation and writing.

 

Unfortunately shortly after I left Trinity College and was making my way down Grafton Street the weather took a serious turn for the worse. Once my boots had become thoroughly soaked I decided to go back to my hotel and wait to hear from my one contact in the country, a gentleman I had been introduced to during my visit to Düsseldorf.

Unexpectedly I wound up having a thoroughly lovely afternoon. Having become slightly chilled from all the rain, I headed for the shower and set up my laptop to play some of my favourite jazz. It was a big shower and I wasn't pressed for time, so I wound up laying on my back and singing along (the shower is the only circumstance in which I will sing) to Billie Holiday, Julie London, and Ella Fitzgerald.  While I had had several frustrations leading up until that moment, I couldn't help but feel completely contented and at ease.  I was in Ireland, a place I've dreamt of visiting for the last six years.  While Dublin wasn't my first choice - I've always been more interested in Ireland's smaller, pastoral, southern communities - it was Ireland nonetheless and I was euphoric.

After taking a good long shower I reluctantly got out and began the grooming process, starting with drying my newly-auburn hair.  Thanks to a spark of intuition (and some common sense) I delayed on getting dressed or putting on makeup, suspecting that thanks to the now-flooding conditions (thanks, Irish weather!) my acquaintance would be cancelling our dinner date.  Well, I was right, and though I was disappointed I decided to take advantage of being stuck inside and do something decadent. So, I ordered room service and snuggled in my jammies (yes, I still call them that).  I was thoroughly impressed by the hotel's clam chowder, and their cheesecake was also good though nothing to brag about.  I was less impressed by my entertainment of choice: Pan Am. Eugh, that'll be on the chop-block soon enough I'm sure. I was hoping for something like Mad Men and instead I got something along the lines of The Playboy Club, which I couldn't even finish one episode of.

I can't even begin to express how excited I was the next day when I woke up to sunshine! Feeling elated by the beautiful weather I got dressed as fast as I could and started out for all the landmarks I had wanted to see but hadn't yet. I started with Christ Church Cathedral, which has turned out to be one of my favourite parts of my whole trip.  Built up on the foundations of an older church, it is a sprawling structure with gorgeous stonework and a wonderful atmosphere. I finally got to experience sun streaming through stained-glass windows, and I took a lot of time just taking it all in.  It also has a great crypt which you are able to explore.  Christ Church was a popular filming site for the television series The Tudors, and in the crypts were several of the costumes that appeared in the series. Another surprise I found in the crypt was an exhibit of a mummified cat and rat.  The pair had become trapped in the cathedral's organ in the 1850s, and when they were finally discovered they were in a mummified state. It sounds terribly morbid but it was actually very interesting.

 

Attached to Christ Church Cathedral is a museum which explores the viking presence in Ireland over the centuries. While vikings aren't my favourite history subject it was an interesting exhibit (though more aimed at families I think) and I even got to learn how to write my name in "futhark", ancient viking runes.  After that I wandered over to Liffey river and the north shore.  I made it over to the Ha'Penny Bridge, as well as the 1785 Four Courts. I wandered along the (beautiful) river side and made my way up to a main traffic artery, O'Connell Street, and then up to the famous Henry Street where I managed to find some gifts for my family.  By that time it was well into the afternoon, so I made a brief stop at my hotel before returning to the sights on the south side of the river.  I got around to seeing 1752's Merrion Square, as well as (the exteriors of) the National Gallery (1864), Leinster House (1745), and the National Museum (1890).  Running out of time, I then hurried over to Saint Patrick's Cathedral, first built in the 1190s, but renovated and restored over the years.

This was another experience I wager I'll have for the rest of my life. I arrived just as the sun was setting, and as it so happened the young boys' choir was practicing. My camera died almost immediately after my arrival, but on the bright side this allowed me to enjoy the music without distraction. I quietly seated myself in the nave, basking in the glow coming from the high stained-glass windows. The choir's singing was nothing short of celestial. While I find traditional choir music moving under any circumstances and am also clearly in awe of medieval religious sites, the combination of the Gothic cathedral and the music that was specifically intended for that setting was nearly overwhelming. Though I am staunchly atheist I would absolutely attend church if every experience was like that. Amusingly enough, because it was a practice the priest would often interrupt the boys would loud criticisms and comments on what needed to be adjusted. While I would have loved hearing the music all the way through I must admit that it was rather funny listening to the very particular priest.  Unfortunately I couldn't stay long as the cathedral was closing, but I will always cherish the memory.

After leaving the Cathedral I wanted to complete one last thing on my to-do list: get fish and chips. The Irish Republic is certainly not England, and isn't even Britain, but I decided it was close enough and I desperately wanted to try fish and chips - a favourite of mine - in its native land. When I had met up with my City of a Thousand Welcomes host I had mentioned this, and he kindly recommended the best place to find some. Luckily this wasn't far off, so I picked some up en route to my hotel and was thoroughly satisfied.

My friend and I had rescheduled our dinner meeting for the next night, so once back at my hotel I got myself organized and waited for word.  Unfortunately due to a prior commitment we had to push back our meeting time, and I had a vague feeling that things might not come to happen at all. Sure enough the hours passed and with them went my certainty that we would be meeting up at all. Finally, at shortly before 11 he messaged me to let me know that his engagement had run long and he wouldn't be able to make it. I bitterly (and perhaps a little unfairly) thought to myself that that had to be a first: imagine getting stood up two nights in a row by the same person! To add salt to the wound, had I not expected to be seeing this person (I'll remind you: the only person I knew in the entire country) I likely would have chosen to visit a different part of the country more in alignment with my interests. I don't regret going to Dublin and I did enjoy much of what I saw there, but I didn't relish the "adjustments" to my social calendar.

The next day was once again sunny and clear, but for me it was off to the airport and back to Hamburg. Both the ride to the airport (via bus shuttle) and the flight were unremarkable (thank goodness), and I made it back "home" with no trouble at all; with only two days left at my workplace and less than a week to spend in Europe...

"Dankesch- Thank y-.... Merci."

Bonjour, mes cheries!

I am once again back in Hamburg after an exceptionally busy long weekend in France.  Before I cover my French adventures, however, I'll begin with Friday:

Friday:  Friday was a really, really good day.  I was already out-of-my-mind excited to be going to France, so the day got off to a great start.  Then for lunch the whole Online department got together and went to a local restaurant.  It was this great place inside a building that used to be a warehouse or butcher's shop or something.  The inside was all exposed brick, and there was a great chandelier made out of painted antique axes.  The tables were particularly interesting: they were wooden, but the wood had been painted in myriad colours, then given a very shiny varnish so that the tables almost seemed to be tiled.  I was facing the windows, so when the conversation switched to German I got to enjoy the view of the tall maples and the typically-European apartment buildings opposite.  We were having inconsistent weather, so I could watch as the rain transitioned to dappled sunlight and then back again.

After lunch - which was an excellent mushroom penne - we migrated a door or two over to a local coffee place.  This one definitely used to be the butcher's shop.  It was huge and open inside, with a high sloped ceiling.  The storage area was separated by some shelving which divided the space but did so elegantly and without eliminating the sense of space and openness.  There was a long bar along the left side, and to the right and centre were scattered long wooden benches and clustered seats.  The tables were decorated with white orchids and glass vases filled with coffee beans.  The treats looked amazing, but since we'd just had lunch I stuck with a drink, which was sooooo gooooood!  Once again I sat facing the windows, basking in the periodic bursts of sunlight while enjoying the banter of my coworkers.  I'm really enjoying the Online department; they're a great group, and the dynamic is one that is really fun to be around.  They're friendly and inclusive and very easy to joke around with, which I certainly appreciate - it lends an ease to life that is sorely needed when so much else takes such effort.  Friday was the first time since arriving in Europe that I actually felt like I might not want to leave; like I had something here that I might want to build on, that I may actually have found a niche into which I might fit.  It was a really, really nice feeling.

The afternoon passed quickly enough, and then it was off to the airport.  Things went without a hitch until I arrived at my gate, at which point they announced that my flight would be delayed by 45 minutes.  This begun something of a stress-fest for me as I was supposed to be connecting with another flight before arriving in Lyon.  Thankfully several other passengers were in a similar situation so the airline announced that our connecting flight would wait for our arrival.  Despite the setback the flights went by quickly and before I knew it I was collecting my luggage and meeting my host, a distant relative.  By the time we arrived at his residence it was quite late, so we said goodnight and all went to get some much-needed rest.


Saturday:  The next morning my cousin arrived from Lille, and so the family took me out and about to see the sights of Lyon.  We started by visiting la Maison des Canuts, a small museum in the silk weaving district dedicated to silk's history in Lyon.  Afterwards we walked through a typical French market, and then went out for lunch together at a typical French restaurant.  The appetizer and entrée were alright, but what really impressed me was dessert.  It was a fondant au chocolat (yes, the same dessert I had in Paris) which was ridiculously good.

After lunch we visited the famous Basilique de Fourvière, constructed in honour of the Virgin Mary after Lyon was spared from a plague epidemic.  It sits high on a hill overlooking Lyon and its two rivers, the Rhone and the Soane.  It is easily the most elaborate building I've seen thus far in Europe: every inch of it was covered in mosaic and cold detailing, which suits my taste just fine.  It was absolutely huge, and awe-inspiring both inside and out.

The exterior:

 

The interior:

After the Basilique de Fourvière we went to another church, the Church of Saint John the Baptist.  This church was much older, constructed back in the 14th century or something close.  It was also where Henri IV married Marie de Medici, which I found totally fascinating.  It was much more austere and had a whole different aura to it.  It was such an amazing feeling to touch a pillar and know that hundreds of years ago nobles stood in the same place witnessing the marriage of a king.  Well, at least for me it was.

The exterior:

The interior:

One of the most interesting features of the church was its numerous headless statues.  During the French Revolution the strong anti-clerical movement had prompted revolutionaries to behead the various statues of saints and bishops.

After our church visits we wandered along the streets of old Lyon, where I got a first hand look at the Italian influences and even got to walk through one of the "traboules".  These were long covered passages that wound between buildings.  In the old days they were used to protect valuable silk from water damage during winter rains, but during the Second World War they could be used to escape the Gestapo.

After everyone had done enough wandering we headed back to the apartment, where I took a much-needed nap.  That evening my cousin, his friend and I all went out to a local pub, though we kept it a fairly quiet and early evening as my cousin was getting sick and I was far too tired to begin stirring up trouble.

Sunday:  In the morning I (very reluctantly) got up, though life was made much better by a French breakfast: baguette with butter and blackberry jam, paired with an exceptionally large mug of tea.  Then it was off to the train station to begin my trip to Paris.  Luckily after having taken the train to Munich I had a better idea of what to expect and managed to find my seat fairly easily.  I stayed awake most of the way enjoying the absolutely stunning French landscape.  It was a rainy and misty morning, so most of the fields were shrouded by cloud and fog.  The countryside was quite like that of southern Germany, though the character of the towns was markedly different.  The brick of the houses seemed slightly older, and was a yellow-brown colour rather than the customary German white.  The red tile of the roofs was also slightly darker, and at times parts of the roof had completely fallen in.  Spotting the landscape were creamy coloured milk cows and the odd horse, plodding along the lanes that were always bordered by hedges.  One image I'll never forget was a bridge we passed.  It looked to be a construction of the Romans (not unlikely given southern France was once their stomping grounds) that passed through a quiet valley.  It was so old and unused that moss and trees had grown along its top, and the mist seemed to hover around its arches very prettily.  I wish we had these kinds of things back home.

Eventually I drifted off to sleep, and next thing I knew we were arriving in Paris.  I must say the outskirt of the city isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  I got off the train and then had to navigate the metro to get to my hotel, which wasn't too difficult but was scary.  The Paris metro is nothing short of filthy and there were all sorts of disreputable characters hanging about.  Despite that it was the middle of the day I did my best to get out of there as quickly as possible.  Once I surfaced I got a little bit turned around on the streets, but was eventually able to locate my hotel and breathe a sigh of relief.

I stayed just long enough to check in and drop off my things before turning around and heading right back out.  The first thing I encountered was the huge Eglise de la Madeleine, which looks remarkably like the Parthenon.

My goal, however, lay elsewhere, so I plowed on and was quickly at the Place de la Concorde and the Jardins des Tuileries.  The gardens were absolutely beautiful, and the autumn foliage added to the expereince.  I wish pictures could better convey the real scale of the place, but both the Louvre and the gardens are absolutely huge.

Place de la Concorde:

Approaching the Louvre itself was just... there are no words.  It has been a dream of mine for a long time to see the French palaces.  I wish I had had more time to really absorb the scenery and the history, but unfortunately I was on a timeline and the lineup to get in was several hundred long.

 

Once inside I decided to get a portable audio tour and started my wandering.  In hindsight I definitely should have planned better, but there was so little time there wasn't much I could do.  Despite access to maps the Louvre is - as I said - gigantic and it is exceptionally easy to get lost.  So, I wound up wandering all the way through the Egyptian section, which I have little interest in (and at which point my camera battery died - FUCK!).  I finally got out and managed to see the Venus de Milo, Winged Victory (Nike), some of the Greek statue collection, the French crown jewels, and my far-and-away favourite, the Italian painters collection.  In this section I got to see Caravaggio, Da Vinci (yes, the Mona Lisa, as well as Madonna on the Rocks and several others), Raphael, Michelangelo, and many, many, many others.  Some of my stand-out favourites were the massive Raft of the Medusa by Gericault and the equally large-scale Liberty Leading the People by Delacroix, both of which could have easily covered the side of a small house.  All too soon it seemed the museum was closing, and that was before I had had a chance to see a personal favourite, David's Coronation of Napoleon.  Alas, I suppose I'll just have to come back one day.

After the Louvre closed I walked back along the Jardin de Tuileries, where I sat for quite some time to people watch.  At one point some sleazy French guy gave me the eye and then made a kiss-face, which was perhaps the most hilarious thing that happened all weekend.  How typical!  After that I wandered up the Champs Elysées towards l'Arc de Triomphe.  Needless to say there were plenty of fabulous stores, but as it turned out I restrained myself enough that I only bought one (reasonably priced) thing: a navy blue cashmere sweater with camel-coloured suede elbow patches - more on this later.  Finally I headed back to my hotel where I had the wonderful Thanksgiving dinner I posted about earlier.

Monday:  Getting up on Monday was quite possibly even harder than getting up on Sunday.  I don't know what kind of sheets they had on the bed (probably Egyptian cotton), but it was delightfully comfortable and the last sleep-in I had was more than a week previous.  But I figured I have my whole life to sleep and only a few hours left in Paris, so up I got and headed out.  Unfortunately what I didn't know was that Parisian stores don't open until 10:30 on weekdays.  Uh, excuse me what?!  Yep.  10:30 ladies and gentlemen.  So I mostly wound up wandering around the Champs Elysées waiting for things to open and feeling irritated by French laziness (or so I saw it).  Eventually things did open though, and I accomplished one last thing I had really wanted to do: I bought macaroons at Ladurée Royale.  They are reputed to have some of the best Parisian macaroons, but honestly 80% of why I went was their packaging, which is totally beautiful.  I got a package of six, including chocolate, vanilla, caramel, raspberry, orange blossom, and one other flavour I no longer recall.

 

I got a lavendar coloured box like the one pictured above, which came in a beautiful green bag.  I have every intention of keeping both for the rest of forever.

After my stop at Ladurée I had just enough time to go back to the hotel, collect my suitcase and check out.  Unfortunately this process was made significantly longer by the two women ahead of me who decided that they were going to dispute every detail of their hotel invoice.  Really ladies?  You think a four star hotel is trying to scam you?  Of course in the end they realised that all the charges were justified, and succeeded only in wasting vast amounts of my time while simultaneously frustrating me to death.  At long last I was finally able to get directions to the airport shuttle (an hour long journey) and be on my way.

Getting to the station was fairly simple (the hotel provided me with a small map and directions) and the journey itself was fine: I spent most of it reading Perfume: the Story of a Murderer, which was my chosen entertainment for my French trip.  I had decided it was a good choice because it's by a German author (Patrick Süskind) but set in Paris and other parts of France.  Also it's a really good book.  Anyway, unfortunately once I got to the airport things started to devolve fairly quickly.  At this point I was already feeling extraordinarily travel-worn and a little fed up with the French in general (10:30 - I mean really??).  The thing is, I somehow managed to forget that I don't do well with extended public travel.  Not in Europe, not in North America.  I just get sick of people being in my space, and this was aggravated by the sheer volume of obnoxious fat tourists (no pun intended).  Suddenly stupidity seems to be omnipresent, and while usually I can manage enough patience to handle this graciously, when I get travel-overdose I turn into the Queen of the Death Glare.  While in the Louvre I was constantly irritated by slow-moving people, whether they were old, young, or just obese.  Then there were the frequent Public Displays of Affection (PDA) which were enough to make me feel violent.  At one point I recall thinking that if I saw one more Euro-trash guy groping his girlfriend I was going to lose it.  I mean honestly, what exactly in the goddamn Louvre Museum is making you horny right now?!  Do you absolutely have to feel up your lady-friend's ass while in a huge public area?  Would you want to less were I to drive a stake through your palm?  Thought so.

Worse than the European gropers, however, were the children.  It's no secret that I strongly dislike children, but in extended public experiences like this weekend it morphs into something more like undiluted loathing.  While at the Louvre my irritation was sparked by screaming toddlers whose idiotic parents thought it would be a good idea to bring them along.  For starters, the Louvre is a biiiig undertaking even for adults.  Its collection is so vast that it would take days or weeks to fully appreciate it, and its also just physically big: it takes a long time and a fair amount of energy to trek around it, up and down stairs and through halls and whatnot.  Even as someone who has studied both art and history I found it very tiring.  So, as a brainless toddler with no appreciation whatsoever of what's in front of me I imagine the Louvre would be something comparable to Purgatory.  To add, the food was only located centrally and could not be brought into the galleries, so the children were not just tired and bored but also hungry.  I couldn't decide who to detest more: the children for making the noise, or the parents for their total lack of understanding or consideration.  Either they're too feeble-minded to figure out it's a bad idea, or they don't give a damn, neither of which endear them to me.  Plus, children are just so annoying.  I remember walking through the Egyptian halls, admiring huge carved idols that had been worshiped literally thousands of years ago, when up comes some snot-nosed little brat who slaps his filthy palm down on the aforementioned statue.  His mother, trailing behind, casually calls out "touche pas!", to which the kid responds by doing the same goddamn thing to the next item within reach, which in turn received the exact same response from the mother.  Was it wrong of me to want to exterminate both of them?  Don't know, don't much care.

A comedian once compared children to drunk adults.  They're mentally short-handed little assholes who will weep or shriek with joy from one moment to the next with little to no provocation, both done in the most noisy way possible.  Whatever happened to the days when children were seen and not heard?  Or better yet, not seen and not heard; when they were shut away from the public until they were old enough to behave with some shred of decorum?  Society shouldn't be a right, it should be earned.

You may be thinking that this is an awful vitriolic rant to have flowed forth from just a few hours spent in the company of crying kids.  But oh no, the Louvre was not the end of my encounters with the Satan spawn.  As I left off earlier, I had arrived at the airport and was waiting to check in when things really took a nose-dive.  Directly ahead of me was a family consisting of two parents, an aunt or nanny (henceforth nanny), and an assortment of three or four rug rats, one of whom was being carried by the nanny and was perhaps 18 months old.  The infant was, of course, shrieking as loudly as it could, while the slightly obese nanny did absolutely nothing to shut the thing up.  I quietly prayed to myself that wherever they were going was as far from me as possible.  But because this was apparently The Day From Hell, once we cleared security I of course discovered that not only were they at the same part of the Terminal as me, but they were going to be on the same plane.  Cue death wish.  There also happened to be two other crying infants in the vicinity, so I swiftly left to go find something to occupy my time.

I wound up in the duty-free section looking for some chocolate to ease up my all-consuming hatred for humanity.  As I was purchasing it, however, I noticed the woman placing it in a special bag, which she then appeared to airlock, which I thought was strange because I was just going to eat it anyway.  On closer inspection I saw that it said clearly "Do not open until you have reached your final destination".  What the fuck, France?!  I had already surrendered my baggage AND made it through security, I was buying the stuff from the airport vendor, but for some reason the French figured that it should be sealed up until I returned to Hamburg, which completely defeated the fucking point and just gave me another thing to carry.

Livid, I went in search of the most sugary coffee I could find.  I even took the trouble to order in French as I really needed them to get the order right.  I ordered a Cafe Mocha, which on their own menu clearly described espresso, steamed milk and chocolate syrup.  What I received instead was the shittiest coffee of all time.  It tasted like dirt, and after three sips I gave up and threw it away.

The "fun" didn't end there.  When boarding time was finally approaching it became crowded, and of course the little demon child from earlier began crying again.  And kept crying.  And crying.  The useless nanny brought The Thing right up next to me, at which point I was so repulsed I had to step back two metres so as not to curse or explode in some violent manner.  At long last the plane started boarding (second half of the plane first), though when I got on I noticed that certain passengers had ignored the order in which people were invited to load and had just piled on whenever they saw fit.  A little enough offense, true, but in my current state of mind this just infuriated me more.  Tired, murderous, and overdosed on train tickets, plane tickets, metro and bus tickets, I managed to settle in the wrong seat twice, which was embarrassing and so very frustrating.

When the plane began takeoff I soon discovered that demon child was only two or three rows behind me because - you guessed it - it started crying again.  This continued for the entirety of the hour-and-a-half long flight.  When we finally got off the plane (the expression "like a bat out of hell" comes to mind) the escape was only temporary as everyone wound up at the baggage carrousel anyway.  I hardly should have to say that Satan's minion cried the entire time we waited.  It's a miracle I didn't commit a massacre.

Finally I escaped to a cab, and then to my apartment which was blissfully empty.

Reflecting back on the trip there are (of course) things I would have done differently.  I would have planned my tour of the Louvre ahead of time, and I probably would have planned to stay longer in Paris.  Actually, I probably would have planned the trip for shortly after my arrival in Europe.  I think part of the trouble with this weekend is that I'm simply tired of the foreign.  Different countries and cultures are wonderful and very educational, but being away from your own home and culture for so long is exhausting, and after a while you begin to fatigue of all the extra effort needed for everyday life.  It's easy to start to resent differences that you once celebrated, simply because they make life a little more challenging.  I don't have the same boundless energy that comes with excitement over new travels, rather I feel burnt out and ready to return home.  I find myself in a strange kind of state - I am still very much foreign and there is so much I don't know (notably language), but at the same time I've been here much longer than most tourists and seem to have absorbed a great deal of European snobbery: I often feel contemptuous of tourists despite essentially being one.  Strange indeed.

A final factor which contributed to the exhaustion of the weekend was the language.  My French skills are infinitely superior to my German skills, but for the last three months I have tried to speak German whenever I've possibly been capable.  So it's kind of my default language at the moment, though I obviously speak English 95% of the time.  French has been a far-distant third.  This weekend was disorienting because all of a sudden the order was rearranged.  I found myself starting to thank the French servers with a "Dankeschön", which was followed by a stuttered "Thank you" and finally a "Merci" (hence the post title).  In a twist which I might at another time call "amusing", today when I returned to work I found myself inclined to respond in French rather than German.  This language dyslexia is annoying and just concludes with me spending most of my time stuttering incoherently.

Anyway, there's much more to say but it's very late and I have to work tomorrow, so I'm afraid I'll have to conclude here.  More to come soon, I promise.

Third Time's a Charm

Okay, so it's been months since I managed three posts in one day, but I figured I spent so long talking about my dirndl that I should probably post some pictures of it.  So, without further adieu:

The Beginning of the End

Happy October everyone!

This week I moved to the Online department, kicking off the last phase of my internship here in Hamburg.  While the work so far isn't quite as familiar as what we did in Design, it is quite similar to what we did in Advertising.  I expect it will wind up being a fairly even blend of the last two departments.  Four out of five of my new coworkers are tall blond guys (how German!); the fifth is a petite brunette girl.  Two of the boys look so similar they could be twins, which was thoroughly confusing when I was having names explained to me.  Having now spent two days in their company I can confidently say they are a friendly bunch and I foresee us all getting along quite well.  The whole bunch are complete coffee addicts, so at least three or four times daily we head to the company espresso machine for a brief social and a hit of caffeine.  I've found this has been a good opportunity to break the ice and get to know them a little.

If living/working in Germany has taught me anything it's that the key to getting to know people is persistence.  It would seem that especially when cultural and language differences are introduced everyone becomes quite shy, and it's up to you to help them over it.  At this point I just do my best to be relaxed, humorous, and inquisitive, and they usually get too distracted by my 21 questions to feel overly self-conscious.  So, before you know it everyone is friends.  This isn't to say that you'll all be going on weekend shopping trips together (at least not for a while), but at the very least you'll be able to chat and banter comfortably, which counts for an awful lot.

Things in general are pretty great right now.  I'm indescribably excited for my trips to France/Ireland, and am also a lot happier now that my return home isn't quite so distant.  Furthermore, plans for my return are slowly coming together.  I always like to have plans in place: not just Plan A, but Plan B, Plan C, etcetera.  I think I've already mentioned the career opportunity in Toronto, which is currently a tentative Plan A if things come together.  What's really making me content, however, is that I now have two additional back-up plans if Toronto doesn't work out.  Over the last couple of weeks two particular Design companies have been brought to my attention.  One is based in Vancouver, and the other has locations in both Montréal and Toronto, not to mention in several European locations.  I haven't had much time to research the former (I only discovered it today), but the latter is quite prestigious and could be a major step career-wise.

If life works out perfectly here's how it will go: I will return from Germany and begin on the Toronto project.  Following the Toronto project (which could be anything from 6 months to a year, who knows?) I would be able to score a job at either the Montreal or Toronto site of my preferred Design company, and a while down the road could possibly spend a year abroad in their Parisian office.  Plan B (which is still pretty great): if Toronto doesn't happen then I would hope my German internship would be impressive enough to get me an internship either at my first choice in Montreal/Toronto or (Plan C) at my second choice in Vancouver, which would conclude with a job and pick up where Plan A left off.  So, no matter what I have a plan and a way forward.  The idea of being directionless or without a goal terrifies me a little.  Also, I have a bet going with a friend of mine to see who can be more successful by the time our 10 year high school reunion comes around, and I have no intention of losing (en garde Sam!).

As for the long weekend (Monday was German Unity Day), it was pretty good.  Friday night a few of the Design people took me out to celebrate my last day with them, and so first we hit up the Schanze, followed by some weird sisha (?) bar since it was ladies' night, and concluding at the Reeperbahn.  I didn't get back home until 6:30, so I spent most of Saturday in bed catching up on some rest.

On Sunday I met up with a friend from work at a place called The Beach Club.  It's right down by the banks of the Elbe, and it's basically this big patio.  The thing is, the patio is covered in sand and beach chairs, and all the drinks are tropically-themed.  I gathered it's the place to go when there's no such thing as a real beach nearby.  They played fun techno music and it was a gorgeous day so we stayed there for quite some time (getting complimentary drinks from the bar - not bad!).  After that we strolled along the docks on the Elbe, then took a ferry down past the Altona to an area whose name I don't recall.  I got to see the famous building shaped like a giant glass boat, as well as some of the famed crate-like architecture by the waterfront.  We arrived at a little restaurant/bar area, and went to a little place called Fischerestaurant (spelling?) where we all enjoyed a dessert.  It was a pretty little place with soft lighting and climbing plants overlooking the cozy cobblestone street.

Before getting up to my apartment I made a quick stop at the gas station nearby for some milk, and it just so happened that a big tour bus full of drunk men was stopped there.  While in line one of them tapped my shoulder and said something German, to which I replied I didn't understand.  They proceeded to invite me to drink with them, but I gave them and excuse and slipped away because I had no idea where the bus was headed or what kind of characters they were and it generally seemed like a bit of a sketchy idea.  But nonetheless it was pretty amusing.

Sunday wasn't remotely exciting as it was dedicated entirely to chores.  I won't bore you with the details.

As for romance, there is none in my life and I have no expectation it will be otherwise until I leave the country.  The less I think on it the better.

Well that about sums it up, but I'll try to update on Tuesday (more likely Wednesday or Thursday) of next week regarding my trip to France.  Until next time!

Fast track to Type 2

... Diabetes, that is!

Hey kids, long time no posts - I know.  The reason I'm finally getting around to it now is because today's diet consisted mostly of coffee, diet coke, and chocolate, so I am super hyper.  Hence the diabetes remark.  Anyway, since it's been so long since I updated I'm going to have to attack this by topic rather than chronologically.  I guess if you don't give a shit about my career then it'll make it that much easier to skip the boring part and get to the gossip, but otherwise you're just going to have to put up with some minor jumps in the narrative.

Work:  Okay, so nearly a month ago I moved from the Advertising department to the Design department called Ligalux.  As it turns out Ligalux is waaaaaay more like what I've done before, so my transition has been really smooth.  We mostly deal with logos, brochures, and, well, design.  I wish I could explain better what "design" is, but you kind of have to do it to know it.  A further improvement is that while in Creative we worked predominantly with Photoshop but in Ligalux we are more reliant upon InDesign and Illustrator, which are old friends of mine.  Yessssssss.  Work continues to be impressively fun as most of my days are spent enjoying my favourite music while doing some glorified doodles.  Doing layouts is less familiar to me, but creating logos is a really enjoyable challenge so they balance out nicely.  This week I've been working on creating gift cards, and I have an idea I'm pretty excited about - let's hope it gets picked up by the client!

As for the people they're all pretty nice, but I haven't gotten to know them as well as I got to know the Advertising guys.  I think part of it is because I actually know what I'm doing now and so I rarely have to ask for help.  Also, while we get together for lunch fairly often we don't do it every day so I have had fewer opportunities to get to know them.  On top of that Ligalux has a wider age range and the employees are more into doing their own thing, and finally I'll be with Ligalux for several weeks less than I spent in Advertising.  Ohhhh well.  I've stayed in touch well with the Advertising crew though, who as per usual are a pretty hilarious bunch.

Having said that, let's move on to my social life....

Adventures:  Alright, so I suppose it's time to think waaaayyyyy back.  Last time I updated was after Düsseldorf, so we'll start with the following weekend.

For many years now I've nurtured a love of Classical music and opera.  I'm familiar with Puccini (who doesn't love La Boheme?), but it actually wasn't until I saw 2009's Quantum of Solace that I looked into Tosca.  Though the music played for only a short scene I was instantly hooked, and swore that if I ever got to Europe I would see Tosca live in Germany.  I am happy to say that after checking out the Hamburg Opera's Autumn lineup Tosca was set to start September 4, so I bought a ticket and waited impatiently for the day to roll around.

Things got off to a bit of an imperfect start.  I wasn't thrilled to be going solo, so waiting for the performance to start and during the intermission I was a little bored, lonely, and depressed.  Also, the theatre itself is a relic of the '80s, possibly my least favourite era of architecture.  The libretto (a translation of what performers are singing that appears at the top of the curtain during the show) was in German, so I couldn't understand it.  Luckily the program included a short English plot-summary so I wasn't completely lost.  Finally, apparently not even Europeans know how to dress properly for the opera.  To add some context, this was a Sunday show and the first showing of Tosca this season.  And yet, there were still waaaaaaaaaaaaay too many people in casual clothes and even jeans.  If you are into opera enough to be attending Tosca on a Sunday then you should know better than to show up wearing that.  And no, I don't care how elitist that sounds, it's just proper etiquette!

However, all these things ceased to matter as soon as the show started.  Opera in any setting is moving, but opera performed live is totally overwhelming.  You get swallowed up my music, and I found again and again I would get goosebumps and chills during my favourite sequences (notably "Tre sbirri... Una carrozza", "Vissi D'arte", and the piece before/after the murder [I don't recall the title of that part just now]).  It feels as though all of a sudden you have muscles in your ears you never noticed and they're all flexed at once.  That description sounds uncomfortable but I assure you it's completely exhilarating.  I didn't cry, but it took a decent amount of effort not to, which I consider a good measure of how good the performance was.

The following weekend wound up being a busier one.  On Friday night some of the ladies from work (the secretary and one of the girls from Accounts) invited me out to Terrace Hill again for a Rockstar themed club night.  After work I wound up having drinks and playing darts with the Advertising guys.  It seems my darts skills have improved drastically since arriving - after two months here I finally won my first game!  We had a really good time but eventually I had to home so I could get ready for the night.  Unfortunately the rest of the evening wasn't as totally awesome as the start.  It wound up being one of those nights where you spend all your time waiting in lineups: waiting to get into the club; waiting to check your coat; waiting to get a drink; waiting to get your coat again.  The crowd at the club were a little on the obnoxious side, and unfortunately none of my group seemed very into the scene.  I spent most of my time on the outdoor terrace enjoying the view of Hamburg and the fresh air.  I won't lie, it was a little depressing though, and I was missing home a lot and mostly brooding about the language for the millionth time.  For all the complaining I do you'd think I'd get around to doing something about it but German is NOT an easy language.

Anyway, the next day was pretty fun.  I went boots hunting for the eighth (?) week in a row.  I only brought ballet flats, sandals, and high heels to Europe because boots are bulky to pack and I thought I'd find something I liked here easily enough.  Not so.  I'm pretty picky, and everything here was all wrong: the toe was the wrong shape; they didn't hit at the right place on the leg; the sole was awkwardly cut; the fit in the calf was wrong; they had weird buckles or accessories.  The list goes on... At the start of September I had found ONE pair that I liked, the perfect pair.... but they also happened to be wildly expensive.  I decided to keep looking, but after checking high-end, low-end, and mid-range stores I still found nothing I remotely liked except for the one amazing pair.  Anyway, I concluded that after having searched all of Hamburg and a good part of Düsseldorf I wasn't going to find anything so I caved and got the pricey ones.  Sigh.  Anyway, in case you're wondering they're exceptionally simple: black, just below the knee, with a loose fit to the calf and no tapering at the ankle (ew).  They have an almond toe and no adornments whatsoever.  You'd think that these would be easy to find anywhere but apparently not.  But enough about shoes.

After a supremely self-indulgent day (much of which I spent hanging out at the canal next to the Alsterarkaden, a very beautiful area) I was just stopping for coffee when something caught my eye.  There's an open area in a place called the Gänsemarkt where vendors often set up on weekends or brands hold promotions.  Just as I was sitting down I noticed a group of 15 or so people all dressed in white shirts and black trousers.  One woman was dressed as Marilyn Monroe in a white dress with blond curls and red lipstick, and two gentlemen were wearing no shirts but little white collars, bow-ties and fedoras.  I was very curious so I went over and asked what they were selling.  As it turned out it was white-dress-woman's bachelorette party and they were all out celebrating.  They were a very friendly bunch (unusual in Germany) and so I wound up getting pictures with the two guys and a couple of the whole group.  In retrospect I wish I had chatted them up more - opportunities for meeting people here are so few and these guys were very receptive (haha) and friendly to boot.  But I didn't want to bother them and had plans to get to anyway, so off I went.  That evening I had plans to meet up with my Advertising crew in an area near where I live called the Shanze.

At the appointed hour I headed out, but everyone seemed to be on their own timeline as it took a while for us to all get together.  The evening was a little more on the mellow side, which I didn't mind.  We were at the same bar we went to waaaaay back when I first arrived, the one we like to call Sofa Bar but has some other name.  Anyway, it was a crowded night so we wound up sitting with two strangers, one of whom was exceptionally handsome and who made eye contact right away.  He was typically German looking, with good bone structure, blonde hair, blue eyes and an athletic build.  I was just plotting how I was going to strike up a conversation with this conveniently close hottie when our group swelled, and to my great dismay the two who we had joined wound up leaving.  Just my luck.  I spent the rest of the evening having forced conversation with a friend of my coworker, brooding about how I would much rather be chatting up a different guy and could have been had I not been such a coward.  I left earlyish (around 1am) and spent the rest of the weekend beating myself up for missing two great opportunities to meet people.

Which brings us to this weekend.  A friend of mine from University is spending a semester in Mannheim, and to my surprise he got himself together and visited this weekend.  When he arrived on Friday we spent the evening catching up and then getting to bed early in preparation for a loaded day on Saturday.

On Saturday we started things off by taking a free walking tour (Sandeman's New Europe tour, in case you're wondering).  One thing I found totally bizarre was that one gentleman on the tour (a German) wore no shoes.  At all.  For the whole time.  I began to think of him as the "shoeless wonder", as he would walk down the cobbled streets (broken glass everywhere) without batting an eyelash.  I wondered if he was allowed in stores like that - "no shoes, no shirt, no service".... right?  Anyway, I never did find out what his deal was, but it wasn't high on my agenda.

We went around to at least four or five different churches, each of which was interesting in its own way.  One was set at the highest point in all of Hamburg (a tiny hill to my Western Canadian eyes), another held what was once the world's largest organ.  Johann Sebastian Bach had wanted to work there, but they had rejected his request as this was prior to his major successes.  Later Napoleon used the same church as a munitions storehouse when he occupied Hamburg.  We then moved on to see several of Germany's famous "contour houses" (it might be "kontur haus", I'm not sure).  These are basically just interestingly designed old buildings.  We saw Chilehaus, Afrikahaus, and we saw the building where Zyklon B gas was manufactured during the second World War.  We went to St. Nikolai church, of which only burnt bricks and a single tall tower remain.  We went right up to the top, which had a great view of the city.  It felt like at any moment Nosferatu could walk out behind a pillar, which was pretty fun.  After a coffee break the group headed on over to Hafen City, which is down by the docks of the Elbe.  It's Hamburg's major industrial/storehouse area and quite the sight.  We saw the new building for the Hamburg Philharmonic, which will have cost close to half a billion dollars by the time it's complete.  We also visited the Dutch portion of Hamburg - the oldest part of the city - and also where the great fire of the 19th century started, which destroyed much of the city.  We walked along cobblestones that had been there for nearly a thousand years, which was pretty damn cool.

Once the tour was over my friend and I went to the Hamburg Dungeon, which is a really elaborate haunted house type thing.  Basically you move through something very similar to a haunted house, but you'll be stopped in various rooms by people in costume who will tell you the darker parts of the city's history.  Unfortunately it was all in German, so I didn't understand any of it but it was still really cool.  Toward the end you go on a boat ride and then to a ride where you're raised up and then dropped without warning - you'll be familiar with these rides from any amusement park.

By the time we left the Dungeon it was closing in on evening, so we trekked back to my apartment to eat, rest, and get ready for a night on the town.  The same group that organized the walking tour also does a pub crawl in the Reeperbahn, Europe's largest red light district.  After such a long day I wasn't sure I was all that ready for a night out as well, but I didn't want to pass up a good opportunity so off we went.

We met up with the group at a 99 Cent bar, where - you guessed it - everything was 99 cents.  The others on the tour were two Australian guys, two Brazilian guys, an American man, a Bulgarian guy, two German girls, and I don't recall who else.  My friend and I immediately got along with the Australians, and throughout the night there were many toasts to "The Commonwealth!"  It wound up being a spectacularly fun time.  One of the earlier stops was to a bar with live music playing the likes of ACDC and typical American rock, so we got our dance on and had a glorious time.  I asked the Aussis about amusing local sayings, and my stand-out favourite is "we're not here to fuck spiders".  It basically means let's do what we've got to do.  On the whole it was pretty perfect, though my guest managed to (unknowingly) proposition a prostitute and then get on the wrong side of her pimp, which is the type of thing that would only happen to him.

In a disappointing conclusion both the Aussis were leaving Hamburg the next day to continue on a Contiki tour.  I begin to suspect that Europe is conspiring to ensure I have no lasting friendships... ever.  Anyway, we spent all of Sunday recovering, and yesterday it was back to work as usual.

Travels: Yesterday evening an old friend of my aunt's was in Hamburg, so we arranged to meet up for dinner.  Luckily we got along well, so this weekend I'll be visiting her family in Munich and attending Oktoberfest, drindl and all.  I'll be departing Saturday and returning Monday, and I'll be using the train for the first time since getting to Europe.

I've also just made plans to visit my extended family in Lyon (France) during the second weekend of October, which I'm very excited for, especially since I can actually speak functional French.

Perhaps what I'm most excited for though is Ireland.  I've finally thrown caution to the wind and will book flights tomorrow to go during my last weekend in Europe.  I've had a mysterious but nonetheless powerful attraction to Ireland since I was about 16, so I am beyond excited to fulfill a dream I've had for the last six years.  Hopefully I'll be seeing one of the Irish guys I met in Düsseldorf, providing he's not too busy with school.  But regardless I think it'll be pretty amazing.  Then, before I know it, it'll be back to Canada.

My initial plan had been to return straight to BC, but I'm now contemplating a stop off in Toronto.  There's a job opportunity I'm very interested in (more on that later), and I'm also dying to see my family, who I haven't visited in nearly five years.  Tooooo long.

Romance: Ugh.  I feel like that pretty much sums it up.

Things had briefly looked up with my Düsseldorf fling.  We connected via facebook (of course), and not long after my visit he and his girlfriend split up, which was wayyyyy more than I had expected out of that.  Unfortunately since then things have hit a serious lull, and I'm fairly certain the end of things has come and gone.  He returns to school soon, and I have no idea whether he'll be visiting Hamburg.  Even if he does my schedule is now so packed I doubt we'll be in the same place at the same time.  I guess it wasn't "meant to be", but that hardly makes me feel any better.

Apparently my life's narrative has turned into a broken record though.  I don't know how well you read between the lines but you may have inferred that I was leaving some details out of this past weekend's pub crawl.  I got along especially well with one of the Australian guys, who of course had the cute accent (I'm a terrible sucker for accents), the blonde hair, the tan, and - what do you know? - a girlfriend.  Not that that stopped a dance floor make-out session from taking place.  Seriously though, WHAT THE FUCK?! Why does EVERY guy I meet have a girlfriend?  And why hasn't that stopped me recently???  Before I got to Europe I had never cheated on a boyfriend and I had never been involved with a guy who had a girlfriend.  But all of a sudden I get here and manage to have this happen twice in what? three weeks time?  I mean on the one hand I'd like to think that I'm not the one in the relationship and therefore it's not my responsibility to ensure these guys are faithful (also, in both instances it was only kissing), but then again once upon a time I had a lot more compassion for these guys' girlfriends.  For some reason that has recently totally evaporated and been replaced with a complete lack of remorse.  'Bye moral compass, it was nice knowing you.

Once again I find myself irritated that I've met someone interesting and fun who I have great chemistry with but zero future.  I suppose it's ridiculous to expect any kind of future seeing as I'm leaving the continent in just over a month, but human beings are so irrational.

Alright, I've been writing for close to three hours now, and I think this update is officially long enough.  Bravo if you made it to the end all in one go.