Happy Halloweenie

We just got in from an exciting and exhausting weekend in France and I only have time for a quick holiday greeting before I heed my bed's call.

Justin, Pecos and I wanted to wish all of you a safe and spooky Halloween. Please enjoy our Halloween costumes (and travel alter-egos) Kate-chup, Just-ard- and our trusty sidekick, The Halloweiner!

Below are some visual aids for those who might have trouble with word play or be a bit daft.

Soon, we'll have France pictures and a blog for you. Maybe we'll even make Justin's mom (who is visiting us (YAY!)) be a guest blogger!

Hello again, world!

I know it’s been a while since Kate and I have ventured out into the realm of the Internet, but our lives just haven’t been that exciting.


The weather is still pretty decent here, with the sun peaking its shining face through the clouds for a couple hours every other day. And, if you happen to be outside enjoying the crisp autumn air when the sun is shining, the oranges, yellows, and reds of the trees sort of pop out against the blue background, demanding to be appreciated and begging to have their photo taken.

The days here are getting shorter. I’m at work for almost 45 minutes before the sun finally decides to get its ass out of bed and light up my life. Coffee is becoming a necessity. So is prozac.

But, for all those blind and numb Germans out there who couldn’t possibly tell through sight or feel alone that the seasons are changing, there is also, thankfully, a set of very German culinary seasons, which promote the produce of the season.

For instance, in the typically not-so-subtle German way, roadstands have a way of popping up on the street, selling the seasonal goodies. For instance, in the warming months, there’s a succession of asparagus season, strawberry season, and cherry season. Then, in the cooling months, there’s apple season, mushroom season, and hefeweizen season. Unfortunately, hefeweizen season is atypical, as there are probably not many “drive-through” hefeweizen stands on the side of the road. But it is certainly a season, as this year’s ale is promoted universally (and ubiquitously) throughout the country.

Despite the chilly weather and lures of the autumn kitchen, Kate and I are still keeping up with some of our extracurricular activities. Kate has been playing water polo with large, German, speedo-wearing men on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And I plan to keep attending a German conversation course on Wednesdays and a volleyball club on Thursdays. We also have been enjoying our running club, the Frankfurt Hash House Harriers, every Sunday. In fact, a couple weeks ago, we were subjects to a naming ritual, which occurs when you’ve been with the group on so many runs that they decide you get to have your own special name. Usually, this name is suggestive in nature, but not too dirrrrrrrrty. For instance, several men in the group have names like this: an adjective describing a bunny rabbit followed by the word “balls.”

Yes, this naming ceremony is a hoot. Fun for kids of all ages. But, it’s the most fun for people like Kate and I who are lucky enough to actually receive those funny names. Why? Because those who get named are fortunate enough to have handfuls of flour flung at them while cold beer is being poured down their bodies. This creates a sticky, smelly, yeasty mess – which, in some cases, are the exact adjectives used before balls.



Thankfully, our names are innocuous and do not include the word “balls.” They are, however, nonsensical.

What are our names, you ask?

Me: Big Squeeze
Kate: The Flesh Test Dummy



We’re thinking the aforementioned “mushroom” season must have meant magic mushrooms to some people in the group.

Next blog: Paris and le Frogs

Kletterwald and Holland

Here at the editorial office of the Wiesbaden Weekly, we get many letters and e-mails asking for more information about things to do around Wiesbaden. One recent letter was from an imaginary boy named Billy from Minburn, Iowa, who asked if there were big climbing trees in Wiesbaden.

Well Billy, as a matter of fact, there are. And, as another matter of fact, Kate and I recently went to this place called "Kletterwald" on the northern edge of Wiesbaden to do just that - climb trees, that is.

Kletterwald, which means climbing forest, is an area about the size of a football field that looks a lot like what I would assume basic training looks like, sans military folk. There are literally dozens of trees that are connected through a complicated web of ropes and wires. And crazy people like Kate and I actually pay good money to clamber on these ropes and wires, scaring ourselves half to death and injuring ourselves in the process. What fun!

At first, the average person at Kletterwald will climb to a platform located about 15 feet from the ground and feel confident as they calmly but wobbly walk across 10 or so suspended wooden boards. "That was nothing," they'll say to no one in particular as they nervously wipe their sweaty palms on their pants. "Ha, that was too easy."

Then, panic begins to settle in as they see the next test is to traverse a 20-foot gap using nothing but six or so hanging stirrups. Gulp.

The whole course takes about three or four hours - and after it's all done and your hands are worn from kung-fu-death-gripping the ropes, and your legs are trembling from the exertion-and-adrenaline cocktail, you look back at the tire swings and zip cords and think, "What the hell was I thinking? I need a freaking drink!"

Anyway, Billy...Billy? Billy, pay attention when I'm talking to you! OK, good. Thanks for writing - I hope I answered your question.

Also, Billy, we just thought you should know that there's more to do than just climb trees. In fact, Kate and I recently came back from a short business trip to Holland, where there are lots of things to do. If you ever go there, you should know that there are tons of friendly people in Holland - most of whom are located in and around what's officially called the seedy area. Yes, these friendly people openly welcome all tourists - and especially Americans - into their "coffee shops" so they can show you all the special things that you can't get anywhere else without serving five years with good behavior.

There's also an area called the "Red Light District," which surprisingly doesn't have as many red lights as you'd think. It does, however, have a lot of equally (and perhaps more) friendly people who wave at you through their big glass windows. They all look very friendly and seem to gesture passers-by to go inside and meet them - like there's some sort of freshly baked blueberry pie inside that you absolutely must try.

Holland is also great because they have lots of fatty foods, urinals on the street, and big wooden shoes to climb in. That alone is enough to entice most people to visit.

OK, all you crazy peeps out there in readerland - you too can send in your questions to us and we'll be happy to answer them as sarcastically we can.

Six months in Europe

So we’ve been here for six months now and I wanted to share my thoughts about living here. I've divided my thoughts into a couple non-exclusive sections, below. Please ask for clarification if you'd like. Kate and I would be more than happy to make up some answers.

Culture shocks: There are two.
First, as I’m sure all you smart, attractive, and seasoned Germany travelers know, the Germans are a very organized volk. Just hearing the words “Kaiser Wilhelm” makes my back stiffen a bit and makes me antsy to clean my desk and gel down that errant cowlick.

But here’s a little-known fact about the Western European Wurstmeisters: They can't queue. Their version of an organized single-file line looks like herd of Soldiers desperately grasping for a spot on the last helicopter leaving Saigon. A jumble. A cluster. And it doesn’t make boarding a plane or waiting for tickets very fun.

Second, and more interesting, is the German's inability to say excuse me. As you know, Western Europe is a bit more densely populated than, say, South Dakota. So space is at a premium – grocery store aisles aren’t as wide, restaurant tables are closer together, etc. In fact, I’m not surprised anymore when older men ask Kate to sit on their laps ... to conserve space, of course.

Anyway, knowing that personal space is limited, both Kate and I felt compelled to use the words “excuse me” when we first got here. I mean, one doesn't want to draw attention to oneself in a foreign country by acting impolite, right.

Well, oddly enough, the German word for excuse me, “entschuldigung,” is foreign language to even the Germans. What does that mean? The Germans seem to have chosen to avoid the word completely, choosing instead to accept day-to-day physical contact as a part of life. For instance, when traversing a crowded grocery store aisle, they plow ahead like Arctic ice-breaking ships, not uttering a word. Or, when entering a subway train, it’s not uncommon to have your feet trampled on or rolled over. If you look up at them as they’re doing it, they’ll look surprised – as if you should be somewhere else.

Some other surprising (but culturally unshocking) things are:

Booze: It’s cheap. A decent bottle of wine is around $2 per bottle.

Cheese: It’s everywhere, delicious, and super cheap. $0.99 for a piece of brie the size of my hand.

Yogurt: Again, super cheap and much better than anything Dannon could make.

Talk: Is cheap. (Sorry, Pecos made me say it).

Weather: Much more mild than expected. Actually, like the German outlook on life, the weather is usually partly cloudy. But the summer was warm and sunny, September had perfect weather almost every day and October, although rainy, has yet to force me to wear a jacket. Unfortunately, the thick clouds of despair appeared to have oozed in and will, within a month, probably nail themselves down until spring - like a big puffy pillow over Germany.

Food: Hearty is not a bad term to use here. Neither is heart disease. But that's just German food. We’ve also been pleasantly surprised by the non-German cuisines offered here: Vietnamese, Indian/Pakistani, Chinese. We also have our pick of tapas, pastas, and pizza. No burritos, though. No bagel shops either.

Little things: The military’s commissary – home to the uparmored $160 tactical seedless grape (with a 73% failure rate and designed to withstand a SCUD missile) – is very convenient. We shamelessly buy most of our groceries there. The American theater is small, but offers first-run American movies for cheap ($3.50 per ticket). In fact, we went to see a movie (the Lakehouse) tonight. Public transportation is everywhere. The streets are clean. But the sewers stink.

Dogs: More than any other nation on the planet, Germany loves dogs. More than France even, with their little Frenchie dogs who sip Café O’lé while nibbling on pains au chocolat between puffs of their cigarette. Sure, the Germans have their share of small dogs (Dachshunds, Schnauzers, Affenpinschers) but big German dogs are popular too (Shepherds, Dobermans, Rottweilers). Sometimes they get their own seats at restaurants (not kidding) and they can always find a bowl of water wherever there are shops.

The Euro: I have nothing against the euro. Other than looking like it was designed by preschoolers, it's a good currency. But, being an average American, I know nothing about how exchange rates work. So let me tell you: The price for things looks the same in writing - a menu at an average Italian restaurant, for instance, displays prices like 10,99 for pasta, 13,99 for some sort of chicken parmesan, etc. This leads simple Americans like myself to believe the prices are just like dollars….but I'm wrong. The price in dollars is 25% extra.

Why, you ask? Here’s why: European governments have brainwashed Klaus, Pierre, Guido and the rest of those Europeans into thinking money is for saving. "Save it in seat cushions!" the governments demands. "Under the bed," "In treasure chests!" etc. This saving, however, causes scarcity. And according to my ECON101 professor, when things are scarce, they rise in value. This is due to something called the law of the absolute advantage which states that the aggregate of marginal return causes a variable rate in the futures of foreign direct investment which.... I don't know. I got a C-. Either way, adding 25% to things stresses me out. And it does nothing for my rash I'm starting to develop under my left armpit. I think I might have to spend my insulin money just to buy Pecos dogfood.

Travel: Obviously this is da bomb (although on second thought, I probably shouldn’t use the word bomb when discussing travel). Flights are cheap, gas is OK (we pay U.S. prices), places are close, and hostels are everywhere. And since it's so cheap to fly, we sometimes pay more to stay in a city than to fly there. It’s kind of addictive, in fact – although I can usually control it with the help of my rash medication.

Anyway, if any of you happen to be coming to Europe and Kate and I can stay for free in your hotel room or friend's place, you bet your booties we’ll be there. (Question for the group: why would anyone actually bet their booties?)

Yes, we travel a lot and we love it. It’s so exciting and adventurous that sometimes I think it can’t all really be happening. Like I’m in a major motion picture starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger…. No, scratch that. But our adventures probably could be made into a romantic comedy of sorts – starring Chad Michael Murray (me) and Mandy Moore (Kate) in which they travel across all nine continents searching for adventure only to find that what they really wanted wasn’t fine dining on Volkswagonkindergardenweinerschnitzel Strasse, but was being at home, spending time with family.

Well, don’t get too sentimental just yet. We’ve still never dined on Volkswagonkindergardenweinerschnitzel Strasse. But we'll let you know.

Work: My job is great. I seriously couldn’t have a better boss or a better organization to work for. There are travel opportunities, professional development opportunities, and, best of all, there is flexibility over what I do. In my last job, I had no choice over what I did. My boss pushed me around and loomed over me like the Sith, ensuring I did his evil deeds. Here, I have a voice. (Now I just need to develop a spinal cord…)

All in all, living in Europe is awesome. But it's even better when people come to visit!