Auf Wiedersehen

I've started my mourning for Mainz, where I finally realize I will have to leave, where I go about and each place, each experience is accompanied by the thought that it may be some time before I am there again. So it is at the market, in the shops, my favorite corners, the best bookstore, the best cafe.

I've decided my mood depends on the weather, and several days of rain gave me a somewhat black disposition. I slept poorly, I woke late or early but always tired. The black rings under my eyes were an adequate reflection of my general disposition. I recognize I'm in a bad mood when I don't want to do anything. I don't want to go out, can't stand staying in, can't focus on a book, don't want to watch TV, can't be bothered with solitaire and no number of cups of coffee bring me out of it.

These are the times I usually call my parents, and it usually makes me feel better. As I stood outside my friend's seemingly empty apartment, after waiting for twenty minutes, my laundry at my feet, I was about to do just that when the window opened and she motioned for me to come up, still chatting on the phone in italian.

Laundry took three hours, and that was not involving a dryer. But, between her phone calls we sat and chatted, and talking made me feel better, so my mood wasn't too terrible on Saturday.

Probably because Saturday was bright and sunny. I tried to avoid trampling elderly ladies at the flea market that had sprouted over my normal running path, on the river promenade, which had an astounding number of people for a Saturday morning. I spent the rest of the morning at the market, reading, browsing through stores for stuff I didn't need and wasn't going to buy, dodging the heavy and unexpected downpours that trapped me in a (usually boring) store for fifteen minutes at a time.

I eventually got dressed to go to dinner; I was invited to my advisor's house for a self-cooked dinner among friends and relatives. We cooked in a wok on the table, taking turns, and I was able to throw in a couple of vegetarian rounds amid the carniverous frenzy, accompanied by excellent wines and good conversation.

Aside:

I've lived in Germany a long time, for my perspective, and long enough to learn the language to the extent that I almost always recieve positive comments. I know how to conjugate the three forms of 'you.' Although I know the rules for their application, although they have been explained to me many times (start out addressing one another formally, as Herr or Frau whatever, and if the elder/higher ranked person offers the informal address, then you may be on informal terms) I *still don't get it*. Or rather, I get it, but it's not always clear.

Yes, I address my work colleagues formally, and it generally doesn't seem strange. Except on the company field trip I sat with a group of women, mid 20s to mid 30s, who immediately said, ''we address one another informally, among the not-so-old-people.'' Yet my advisor, a woman in her early 30s, still continues to address me as Frau B--and this doesn't seem strange to me, though our relationship is more personal than my relationship with most of my other colleagues (I know where she was born, grew up, about her family, her husband, her wedding, etc.). With other colleagues, though, it feels like it should still be an informal relationship yet we address one another formally.

So dinner parties are always an interesting situation for me: how do I address these people whom I have just met? I was in the position of addressing my other advisor (a gentleman in his 50s) formally, his wife (whom I had met minutes before) informally, same for the other guests. My advisor then suggested we address one another by first names but still formally. And as the evening wore on he slipped and addressed me informally, and we decided we would just leave it that way. At least I wasn't the one who screwed up, and he, as the elder, gets to make that decision. As an American, it's all the same to me, and I often feel the added distance of a formal address unnecessary among people who have been introduced--but also don't appreciate strangers talking to me as if they know me.

That sounds all long and complicated and boring, perhaps superfluous, but it's important to Germans and anyone who wants to be considered 'well brought up'. It causes me problems when I am unclear as to the situation--I have gone so far as to grammatically reconstructure all of my sentences to avoid the second person pronoun alltogether--no small feat. Try it sometime, I dare you (read: it should be tried, I challenge someone to do it).

I had a wonderful evening--that is an activity I immensely enjoy and a form of socializing with which I am comfortable. Biergärten, big parties, etc., really aren't my thing. I don't drink beer, don't like being drunk, and am usually the first one tired. I often check my watch waiting for it to be late enough that I can go home/to bed. Not that it's not fun, but it's not usually so wonderful that I don't notice it's 2 AM. This time, though, I didn't hardly notice that it was 11:30 until I looked at the clock in his car getting out. I'm eagerly anticipating whether or not we will be on formal or informal terms on monday.

So, that was Saturday. Sunday I fell out of bed, popped an aspirin for my light hangover (the wine was good but I had relatively little, and still got to feel it the next morning). Managed to eat my breakfast and forgot to brush my teeth as I headed for my train to Frankfurt. I'd been given a free ticket to the Frankfurter Buchmesse, the book convention. A million publishers in a huge gargantuan convention center, floors upon floors upon floors, organized by type, country, publisher, subject, you name it. The comics section was filled with mobs of not so youngsters dressed as anime characters. The film and TV section had costumes from some recent films and a screening room. If I had been there on Wednesday I could have watched 'The devil wears Prada' and 'Das Parfum,' a new movie by a well-known German director (Run Lola Run, among others). As it was I watched an excellent Indian movie, quite sad but also wonderfully funny, and was driven out into the city by the lack of affordable edible food at the convention center.

Turns out there is an 'Oldtimer' show goign on, with over two hundred vintage cars of various persuasions. Dad, I photographed all the Jaguars, just for you. An XK 120, a 150, a couple E-types, a Mark II, and various others. And I found the one and only Mustang, marine blue, for the steal price of 29,000€. Spare change, that.


1936 Jaguar SS100

Strangely enough for a Sunday, most shops were open, the streets were full, the bratwurst sellers were in full swing, and you could buy apple wine or beer on every corner, with a live band to boot. I was supposed to meet a friend at an Oktoberfest in Mainz in the evening, but between staying late in Frankfurt, issues with the S-Bahn coming home (why am I ALWAYS going the wrong direction?), and the whole bridge-jumping thing, I rain checked for later in the week.


Frankfurt

The weather has been pretty cooperative--brilliant blue skies Saturday and Sunday mornings, fantastic sunsets both nights, and a full, orange moon hanging like a pumpkin over the horizon to boot. Ah, c'est la vie. C'est l'automme...



UPDATE--turns out we're on informal terms, after an initial bout of habitual formality.