Old Folks' Home

I’ve forgotten the exact story, but the apartment in which I was livign was certainly not intended for students. Aside from the general population—average age of about 75, and that with several kids to skew the math—and the general location—hoity toity villas on the hill, there are a few revealing features:

1) Most obvious: mounted bars for hoisting oneself in and out of the bathtub. Necessary for individuals with some kind of physio-muscular problem, elderly people, people with osteoperosis, tennis elbow, broken limbs, plaster casts or physical disabilities of any kind, or inherent lack of attention leading to unfortunate injuries
2) In connection with this, there is also the red button on the wall next to the toilet labelled „Notruf“ (Emergency call button). I suppose it’s there for „I’ve fallen and I can’t get up“, but given the location, the thing is only useful if you fall down and wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall, anywhere else and you are out of reach—but the likelihood that you are balancing precariously on the toilet, such that you would fall and wedge yourself in said manner, is relatively slim. The button is likely not intended to report flu, incontinence, menstural cramps or general grumpiness, and woe betide he or she who hits that button by mistake.

what will it be like when i get old
will i still hop on my bike, and ride around town
will i still want to be someone, and not just sit around
i don't want to be like other adults
cause they've already died
cool and condescending, fossilized
will i be rich will i be poor, will i still sleep on the floor
what will it be like when i get
what will i be like when i get
what will it be like when i get old
will i still kiss my girlfriend and try to grab her ass
will i still hate the cops and have no class
will all my grown up friends say they've seen it all before
they say hey act your age and i'm immature
will i do myself proud or only what's allowed
what will it be like when i get
what will i be like when i get
what will it be like when i get old
will i sit around and talk about the old days
sit around and watch t.v. i never want to go that way
never burn out not fade away
as i travel through my time will i like what i find
what will it be like when i get
what will i be like when i get
what will it be like when i get old

--When I get Old, from Descendents

Ist der Krieg vorbei???

"Excuse me," the voice stops me. "EXCUSE ME!!" I'm a step and a half past her, two heads taller. People don't do that here, don't stop you on the street unless you've done something wrong.

I stop, turn, smile. I'd seen her on the corner as I approached, mumbling to herself; I had passed her, passed over her, passed by her, not a thought to spare. She's tiny, not even five foot, wizened, shriveled, white hair covered by a cloth tied under chin. Her companion, a cane, accompanies her wobbling steps as I am about to sweep on past her.

"Excuse me," she repeats. I smile expectantly. "Is the war over?"

The little hamster wheel of my brain comes screeching to a halt, my feeble version of reality wheeling around me like a two-year-old on a two-wheeled tricycle.

"Yes, definately," I reply, too astounded to think first. She hasn't got all her teacups in the cupboard, as they say here; a few fries short of a happy meal, as they say there.

"That's good," she mumbles, her eyes somewhat unfocused. "That's good. Maybe my husband will come back. He said something about..." I can't discern much of what follws, mumbles of promises and hope thinly connected to coherence, even more thinly to even her version of reality. "Thank you," she finishes, looking at me, seeming to see me for the first time, a faint smile on her face. I nod, depart.

Wow.

What do I do with that?

Here I am, standing on a corner of a street in Germany amid new houses, my astonishment and the vantage point of my twenty years--years spent without words like war, need, or ration, not even to the extent of my classmates here, second-generation war kids, kids who lived with walls. Maybe she's a few bricks short of a full load, maybe she'll ask the next person she sees the same question--to be constantly unsure, unaware, afraid?

Yes, the war is over. I hope she's happier for the length of time she remembers...

How to take the tram: A beginner's guide

A thoughtful and useful guide to those unused to German trams.

Step 1: Find your nearest tram station. Helpfully located at frequent intervals, it's a snap to find the tram that's right for you. Check the direction and make sure it stops at the station you want. There is often a handy electronic display telling you when to expect the next tram which, unlike similar displays in Boulder, for instance, actually display to the minute the next arrival, compared to the "+/- 45 minutes" offered by RTD.

Step 2: Wait for the tram. It won't take long, and because it's Germany, the trams are frequent and punctual. At this point all passangers are relatively evenly spaced along the platform.



Step 3: Work your way with determination towards the doors, and try and guess their exact location as the tram is pulling in so as to be closest. Queuing does not exist. Waiting paitiently will get you a perpetual standing-room-only tram experience. Press button to open doors. Forgetting this step leaves one standing, frustrated, as the tram leaves again, without having been able to board.



Step 4: Stand aside as the flood of passangers disembarks. This may be a lengthy process if an elderly person is involved, as they tend to take up the entire door area and move exceptionally slowly.

Step 5: Try and get a seat. It is customary to give up your seat to elderly people, mothers with children, or anyone looking unsteady or who smells funny. In the last case, both seats are usually vacated. If you don't get a seat you will have to stand, and will have to do your best not to fall on people if your driver is particularly energetic. If you have suitcases, large bags, a pram/stroller, or any other large object you will have to stand.

Step 6: At your stop, try to get off. This may be complicated both by mobility-impaired elderly people and non-mobility-impaired elderly people--in the latter case, these individuals will practically run you over, shove you out of the way, and usually hurl a few dirty looks--or in worst case scenario, words--as they depart.

I had the experience of boarding a relatively full tram with a suitcase (35 kg, 70 lbs) and a violin. As it was full and I had lots of stuff I stood next to the door. At the next big station everyone wanted off--I was practically squashed into the wall by the flood of humanity disembarking, and because everyoone had to go around me to get out I had several old people intentionally jostle me on their way out as emphasis to their "you're certainly standing in a stupid place" comment. My options were few--before anyone got off, there was nowhere else to go, and as they were getting off I couldn't well remove myself and my suitcase to allow people to get off, which would be equivalent to the old-lady-with-walker-who-blocks-everything-for-ten-minutes-getting-out. I usually just ignore comments like that but I felt a need to shoot back a cynical "as if I had a choice."


It is a well-known fact that elderly Germans love to be opinionated, and love to share that opinion with you. If you are carrying large objects, anything bulky, and/or anything that would better be transported by car, you may expect sharp observations on how there are "better ways to do things." Note the lack of help offered. Elderly people find it their duty to instruct other people's children in public places, giving them a hard time for laughing too loud or whatnot.

And woe unto ye who adress elderly people with "Hi!" instead of "Good Day."