Midnight

Midnight

Up to my elbows in soapy water, picking lettuce stems and baked-on cheese from plates, scrubbing the last bit of dough out of a bowl. A bottle of schnapps, a bar of bitter chocolate and a pot of coffee stood on the table to cleanse the palate in the desired fashion. We’d just finished dinner, cooked and served in multi-course French fashion. Appetizers, wine, squash soup, quiche, more wine, salad, cheese, chocolate.

We were supposed to show up at 8 to help cook a birthday dinner. We showed up at 8, the other two (the birthday girl and the guy with all the ingredients) showed up at 9, having forgotten the squash. Ahh, the French—show up an hour late and forget the ingredients (that was from Christoph, the host, repeated by Fabrice, the one who forgot the squash). It was probably 10:30 PM before we were able to start with the dinner, lit by tea lamps, on a small table in the middle of the dorm room kitchen. We had had to fight our way through a vertible forest of cooked—and forgotten—leftovers from other roommates, scrape dried scraps from cutting boards and knives, and share the space with the few caffinated students bent on making pudding or heating hot dogs at that hour.

It’s a bit odd; I’ve known these people only since Wednesday, but I already feel comfortable with them, and it’s not awkward spending an evening with them. They are an established group of friends but I somehow fit in, although I just met them, don’t study here, and am between 4 and 7 years younger than they are. I don’t speak French and I don’t smoke, but neither of these seems to be a problem. And cooking is always fun, always enjoyable, and gives me something to do with my hands.

The rest of the day was taken up with reading, watching TV (not much on), watching Futurama with Linda, sitting by the Rhein, going for ice cream, walking in random directions for no particular reason, rearranging the furniture, and trying without success to upload pictures.

Christoph lives in the dorms on campus, which in Germany are single rooms with a shared kitchen. There are perhaps two hundred students in his building, six to a block. Shared kitchen, shared bath, no living room.

I’m glad I’m not living in one.

The option never really existed for me; the rooms were all full by the time my papers were in order. They are the cheapest option, for many, the most practical. I’d have dealt with it, and probably enjoyed seeing the other students and having the contact to other people. But I don’t like messy kitchens, small spaces, other people’s hair in the drain, or any of the other wonderful things that happen with unfortunate frequency the more people live in a house.

Of course, I’ve seen appartments, in Boulder and in Germany, that are worse in terms of living arrangements. But at least with private arrangements, one can find out for him or herself. Am I wrong to be so choosy? Dunno. But at least I don't get food poisoning from dodgy attempts at cooking :)