It's been a while. How are things? I suppose you're all writing exams now, so it's probably a bad time to send this. I'm afraid I've been a dangerous combination of both lazy and busy, and that hasn't allowed me to be more punctual in my updates. Accordingly, I have a rather long e-mail, and have actually included a table of contents, for the improvement of your reading experience.
ORCHIDAE
INTERESTING FELLOW
FIASCOS ON THE TRAIN
WARM FUZZY FEELINGS
CERN
CONCLUSION (ALMOST) AND REGULATIONS
ORCHIDAE
Germans seem to have a curious love of the orchid family. It seems that in almost any window, office building, or home you see at least one of those handsome flowers. And furthermore despite the warnings of friends back home, they seem to be easy to grow here, whether due to the peculiarly humid climate, the elevation, or just the tender love and care of the German people. A coworker here even mentioned to me that the reason she has so many in her house is because they are the only plant she can get to bloom. Bizarre. Following their lead I was in a flower shop a couple of months ago when I happened upon a particularly gorgeous white flower with a hint of rich, deep purple on the edges of each petal. Of course I couldn't resist taking such a beautiful creature home with me, and so I did, heeding the shopkeeper's recommendation of care. And for two months, this was a piece of living art, a paragon of natural beauty resting peacefully on my desk. Then two weeks ago I went away for Easter vacation, and forgot to water it before I left. when I returned, the leaves were curled and the flowers were wilted. It seems that with these exotic plants, all the humid air and high elevation in the Fatherland can't overcome garden-variety incompetence.
INTERESTING FELLOW
Speaking of incompetence, I was riding back on the train the other night from a welcome dinner for international students, when I happened upon a very drunk man sitting in the seat across from me. He was not just drunk, he was quite drunk, to the point where he was yelling after people who walked past, and having a difficult time staying in his chair. Naturally I thought it was a perfect to sit and have a chat with an interesting fellow. This turned out to be a bit more difficult than I had anticipated because once I actually started listening to what he was saying, I realized not only was he slurring his loud words almost incomprehensibly, but I think he was speaking with a rather strong dialect too. Yee haw. Needless to say, he started the conversation, and through his drunken, heavy regional accent, he kept repeating something, which I think was something along the lines of saying that no one ever checked his ticket because of the colour of his skin. After nodding my head a few times to this fascinating bit of trivia, the ticket-master eventually came around collecting the tickets, and, indeed, asked everyone for a ticket, except this loud, waving drunk man. And I thought "Es ist nicht weil du weiß bist, aber weil du blau bist." Anyhow, he eventually started talking about computers, and the question of my employment arose. I told him I was an electrical engineer, and he let me know what he was...and you know what he was? A bus driver.
FIASCOS ON THE TRAIN
But then trains are always a good source of interesting tales. I almost think that if I just spent my whole time on the train, I'd have experienced as many unusual and interesting things as if I had spent it walking through the great cities of Europe. As I write this my train is travelling through Karlsruhe on its way to Frankfurt, and I am reminded of the curious blind man I met the last time I travelled between those two cities. But perhaps I've already regaled you with that particular anecdote, and should instead tell you of how a certain conductor reaffirmed my faith in humanity a few weeks ago.
It all began when I was on my way to meet a few friends in the nearby city of Villingen, to visit the legendary Färberstraße (more on that later). As per usual, I showed up exactly on schedule, with just enough time to purchase my ticket and find my way to the correct gate. Taking this train, I would have just enough time to grab something to eat in Villingen, and meet at the agreed time. I was in a bit of a hurry, so I wasn't paying attention when the fellow recommended I take the next train, as it would be slightly cheaper, and so I just gave him my money, took the ticket and quickly proceeded to my gate. Evidently, I was his last customer of the night, because a few minutes later, just when the train was arriving, he also appeared, with a coat and bag in hand to board the same train. However, when he saw me, he came over and informed me in no uncertain terms that I could not take this train, and would have to wait an hour for the next train, and when I tried to protest, he just became more insistent, to the point of being a big dick. Needless to say, I was very unimpressed, as I was going to be late, and the difference in ticket price might have been half a Euro or so, and my thoughts immediately went to how unfriendly, unhelpful, and unpleasant Germans are, and so on.
But I am a man of great self-control and restraint, and two weeks later, when I was on my way to hear the King's Singers in Stuttgart, he was still alive and well, and in fact sold me my ticket that evening. I tried to be civil, and this time, I told him exactly which train I wanted to take; it was an hour shorter, an hour earlier and half the price of the next train, and he had no problem to give me exactly what I wanted. He even told me the correct gate to go to, and go to it I did, just as the train was arriving at the station. But something seemed wrong, something about the direction the train was heading in, or the number, or something, and I quickly ran to the big schedule posted on the wall to have a look. Just as I realized it was, in fact, the right train, I heard the doors closing. I ran over, tried to open them to no avail, I frantically waved my hands at the people inside, and they couldn't do anything either, so I stood there and watched my train roll away into the night. I went back to the conductor to purchase a new ticket, and the first thing he asked me was where I had been standing to miss the train, but then he softened, and rather than make me pay another €40 because of my own incompetence, he said it was ok if I used the same ticket, and a few minutes later when I was sitting by myself on a bench, waiting for the next train, he came over and gave me a detailed report of the journey I was supposed to take, which I thought was rather decent of him. And this really made me think about how even the most unpleasant, asocial people have the capacity for goodness and decentness from time to time, and I would like to think I really took something from that experience, more than just warm, fuzzy feelings.
WARM FUZZY FEELINGS
A few other international students and I had planned to take a trip to Italia over Easter, see the Mediterranean, say "Hi" to the Pope, and all that; but unfortunately we decided this about two days in advance, and there was absolutely no where to stay at any city in Italy. Of course, I was all up for sleeping in the rental car, but the others were a bit more hesitant at that idea. So we ended up going to the Nuremburg area with a German friend instead. We got there during the Volksfest (which has nothing to do with Volkswagens, by the way), I rode a rollercoaster for the first time in ten years or so, we ate some delicious pork, and generally had a good time. We saw some really beautiful sights in that area, and I will upload some pictures to Facebook someday. But the most notable thing was what our German friend told us about the tradition of Easter fires in the area...
Apparently each little village amasses a huge pile of branches and wood during the week before Easter, to be ignited the night of Easter Monday; and every one of these towns tries to light the piles of every other town on the Sunday night before. And so there is usually a big group of semi-drunken farm boys that camps by each pile and tries to protect it from other semi-drunken farm boys with gasoline and matches until the official ceremony Monday night.
Upon hearing this tale, and being the enterprising, adventurous fellow that I am, I immediately grabbed the package of matches on the bar table, looked around at the small group of other internationals, felt a flicker of something about deportation go through the back of my head, and told them in no uncertain terms what needed to be done. Needless to say, the Mexicans were gung ho, the Brazilian showed a bit more hesitance, and our German friend needed more beer.
At this time it was already about nine o' clock Sunday evening, and everything was dark. We scoped out the nearest pile of wood, and we didn't see anything; no tents, no people, we couldn't even see the pile... very strange. In any case, it was also a bit wet, and we realized we would need some fuel to get things started. But most of the gas stations were closed, we had no gas container, and furthermore, it would have been suspicious if we were to buy a can full of gas that particular evening. So, I got a first hand lesson in "fuel extraction", from a Mexican. Yee haw.
Several excited hours and more than a few accidental mouthfuls of gas later, I was losing my team fast. The Brazilian was already in bed, along with one of the Mexicans, and the other Mexican and the German were beginning to have doubts. It was cold, wet, and we would have to walk several kilometers to the fire site to avoid being seen or heard, and furthermore if we were caught, it would likely involve a fair amount of physical pain. As a last ditch effort of motivation, I tried to appeal to the German. He was getting older, and this was a tradition of his youth. He had a group of willing participants, and it was quite possibly the last chance he ever had to do this in his life... He put on his coat.
By this time it was almost four in the morning, and the German and I were the only ones left standing by the insatiable attrition of exhaustion. There we were, standing under the warm golden glow of the single, dim incandescent light in his hallway. We had everything we needed, and we were ready to go. He took a final look out the window before heading out, and he saw that there was a dense, freezing fog all around the valley. Suddenly all the doubts from the previous evening came flooding back and he hesitated. At this critical point, I realized how tired even I was, and I said to him that if he really didn't want to do it, we wouldn't go. And you know what? We didn't go. I think we all slept more soundly that night than any of us had in quite some time.
We spent the next day seeing the sights in the nearby city of Würtzburg. Germany really is an incredible country; the beauty and history here still leave me speechless sometimes. We saw some castles, and some gardens, and we discussed the fire we were going to see in the evening, and how it was probably better that we enjoy the official ceremony with everyone else, roast some sausages on the open flame, and so on. So when we returned to Rothenburg (the place where our German friend is from), we were very surprised to see still no one around. It was about 6:30 or 7:00 and the field was completely empty and dark. We walked up over a little hill and at last we saw the wood pile! But there was still no one there... This time our German friend got a twinkle in his eye, and we knew that this was the right time. A couple of hours later we were absolutely covered in ash and soot, but there was the biggest fire I have ever seen! After a feast of fire-roasted sausages and Jägermeister, we stood around looking at our work with great satisfaction, and even the Brazilian had to admit it was pretty awesome. Funny how it took a Brazilian, two Mexicans, and a Canadian to carry on the ancient traditions of this little Bavarian town.
CERN
This little note is quickly turning into a novel, and I should probably think about getting back to work, so I think I will close by telling you of one of my most recent, and most exciting adventures of the past few months, my trip to CERN in Geneva. For those of you who don't know of CERN, you are not alone. Curiously it seems like fewer people know of it here than at home. It is the European Organization for Nuclear Research, and currently they are building the world's largest particle physics experiment, the LHC (or Large Hadron Collider), on the bedrock underneath the Franco-Swiss boarder near Geneva. It just so happens that my host family used to live a couple of kilometers from CERN (in a town called Echenevex, on the French side), and when Alex, my host father, found out they were having an Open Day for visitors, he asked me if I would like to have a look.
Saturday, 5 April, we traveled down through the famous Gruyère region of Switzerland (where we had some phenomenal iced-cream, by the way), and spent the afternoon in Geneva. As it happens there was also a balloon festival happening at that time, so we got some nice pictures, which, again, I will upload to Facebook one day. Nothing especially exciting happened, but I got to eat some hand-made Swiss chocolates, see the famous Jet d'Eau, and walk by a couple of antiques stores. One specialized in scientific antiques, and my hear skipped a beat when I saw some old Wimshurst machines through the windows, but would you believe they were closed? In any case, they were probably entirely unaffordable, judging by the prices of its neighbouring stores.
In the evening we had some Swiss fondue in the French mountains behind Geneva, and it was absolutely fantastic. And aside from a rather mundane beer for a full four-Euros-and-fifty, Alex recommended I try the Chartreuse. It is a sweet, French, herb-based liqueur, in the style of Jägermeister, and I have never felt anything burn quite as fiercely as that. While there, I couldn't help noticing a group of physicists siting at the table next to us. It's curious how they are identifiable from sight alone. But in any case I approached and asked them, just to make sure, and sure enough they were all from CERN. They told us they were originally from various universities (all in the US, I believe), but were serving terms at CERN, and gave us the best strategies for seeing the sights the next morning. So, after saying goodbye to those kind folks at the restaurant, I left my host family at the hotel, and went for a midnight hike through the mountains (partly to aid the digestion of the tremendous amount of cheese I ate)... and it was soon time to visit CERN!
It was about 9:00 AM by the time we got to the site in Echenevex (one of six CERN locations with access to the underground particle accelerator chain), and the line-up at the entrance to the massive building was already becoming agonizingly long. But it was well worth it. After having a look at the various exhibits, and talking to a few of the physicists hanging around to answer questions, we headed on a tour underground to the CMS experiment that was almost ready to begin. I'll spare you the technical details, but if you are interested, you can ask me, or better still, you can have a look on the CERN CMS website. Essentially it was a giant, cylindrical electromagnet, close to 15 meters in diameter in a huge cavern 100 meters underground. As its construction was not yet completed, it was we could walk between two of its massive sections, and it was incredible. It was like standing next to something from Star Wars, a huge, dense, metal thing packed with wires and cooling pipes and so much taller than me that it took my breath away. Apparently the magnetic field is so strong that the whole thing shrinks by 5 centimeters when it is switched on, and there is a surge current of some 20,000 Amperes from the electromagnetic coils when it is switched off again. Needless to say, this whole experience really made me kick myself for choosing engineering over physics (again), but it was a good time all the same.
CONCLUSION (ALMOST) AND REGULATIONS
So that about wraps it up. Things are generally going pretty well here. I can't believe I've already been here for over three months! Just four more to go. I am liking Germany a lot, and I don't know how I am going to cope with the meagre bread, sausage and beer back in Canada. But nonetheless, there are a few things that don't sit well with me, and the bureaucracy and strict regulations are anathema to my libertarian soul. For example, I received a letter in the mail yesterday informing me that I must pay a fee for the public radio and tv stations while I am living here, or declare that I do not use these services. Fine–great, in fact, that one has the choice. But my host parents informed me that if I make that declaration, I have the chance to have my residence visited and searched for a tv or radio, presumably without warning or warrant. I find this absolutely outrageous and unconscionable. Another German friend mentioned to me that if you verbally offend someone, or give them the finger (for example while driving), you stand a reasonable chance of being successfully sued. What ever happened to freedom of expression? And I won't even start to mention my thoughts on forced garbage sorting, or my time card at work, or the countless other little things pushing and forcing conformity from all sides. I am beginning to understand why the Autobahn is such a significant thing in Germany. With so much of the German life being regulated and controlled, it is sort of a last refuge, or an escape valve to be able to drive in true freedom, with no limits in the personal space of one's own automobile. (As a humourous side note, the company Audi has a little yellow sticker on the dash board, asking that drivers travel no more than 210 km/hr in icy or winter conditions.) Although even the autobahn is being regulated more and more, especially in the name of environmental protection. Ah well, I suppose it could be worse, at least they haven't banned incandescent bulbs... yet.
So beside that, last week my company sent me to a trade fair in Frankfurt to scope out the competition and get a feel for some new innovations that are happening in our area. After being on my feet, eating cream-filled junk food and red wine for three days, my plans for the weekend were not to walk, eat or drink too much. So Saturday Alex and I ended up moving two large piles of compost halfway up the hill where our house sits, and for supper we had a rather immoderate amount of Kirshwasser-filled fondue-from-a-bag. So much for those plans. But it was a good time, all the same.
So thanks for reading. If you feel like it, drop me a line, and let me know how things are going back home, or wherever you happen to be. And if you know anyone else who would like to hear tales of high adventure in foreign lands, just let me know, and I'll send them a copy of an Ian Flemming novel... Well, either that or just add their e-mail address to my list. Now I really do need to get back to work, or I'll be deported.
Cheers!
Greg
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