Budweiser Budvar

OK, so no more stories or pictures of Afghanistan. I only spent a week there, so I think it’s safe to say I’ve milked it for all it’s worth. Well, OK here is a photo of my gear.



Notice how clean and shiny it is. Woooooo!

On Saturday I visited the open-air market downtown and went to the Ostermarkt (Easter market) which is also downtown. Because I wanted to... just listen to the music of the traffic in the city, linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty. How can you lose? The lights are much brighter there. You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares and go Downtown. Things'll be great when you're Downtown. No finer place for sure, Downtown, everything's waiting for you!

I took a walk to the office to pick up any mail that may have arrived in the last week. On the way home I stopped in at a mall by the train station. I guess they had just opened, and the place was so crowded…I tell you, it was a Madhouse!

I stopped in a bookstore, and all of the books were in German. Only it wasn't called a German bookstore, it was just called a bookstore, or whatever is German for bookstore. I don’t know what the hell it said, for all I know it could have said “You stupid American didn’t you ever take Geography?” So I bought a book.

When I was on the plane coming to Germany the guy I was sitting next to said to me, “You ought to pick up a German bible. It’s a really good way to learn the language. After all, you know all the stories.” I thought about quoting Isaiah to him, but I thought better of it.

So I go into this bookstore and I’m looking around and thinking about what this gentleman had told me. So I pick up “Schulkochbuch – Das Original” by Dr. Oetker, which evidently…

“Das Vertrauen in die gelingsicheren Rezepte hat dieses Buch zum meisterverkauften Dr. Oetker Kuchbuch gemacht.”

You don't believe it? Neither did I, but it says so right on the cover.

I thought that I should know some of the stories in this book too. Or at least how most of them end.

Here’s a picture of the Real Budweiser…

Mmmm, mmmm, good!

I had dinner at a Greek Seafood restaurant tonight. I had a whole fish that the cook picked off of the bones at the tableside. It was still a little bony, and I'm sure that I swallowed a few. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they either break down in my stomach, or at least travel through my colon longitudinally.

Leaving Afghanistan

3/22/2007
We only had a one car convoy on the way out. Apparently we became expendable in our time here. At least we had a shooter who was dipping Copenhagen and listening to country music in the truck. Reminded me of college.

Upon arriving at the Kabul “International” Airport, you must be prepared to grease everyone who touches your bags. The small bills were flying out of my hands so fast it felt like I was in a strip club. Once we cleared passports, baggage check, and customs we were placed in the “VIP lounge”. Here are a couple pictures of the Kabul VIP Lounge.





There was a sign that said they were undergoing renovations, but I didn’t see anyone working. The bathroom in this place was pretty hideous as well. Jeff wanted to get to his “Cone of Sanitation”. I blew my nose today (3/26) and I swear it had dust from that airport in it. I was looking around and wondering just how much asbestos I was inhaling. I really felt bad for the couple with the kid who had obviously just started walking. No, check that, they were idiots! I felt sorry for was the kid. These people were blonde and obviously not from Afghanistan and Kabul is not standard destination. What kind of screwball would take their infant into a situation like that? Damn hippies!

The United Nations flight was about half full, but it did leave on time. I was almost waiting for the pilot to ask me for a tip before he would start the plane, but he waited until we were in the air. This was smart, when you think about it. People are much more motivated to give the pilot money when the plane is in the air.

Once we were in the air and outside of the throbbing metropolis of Kabul, small villages could be seen out of the window. The villages were obvious because of the geometric shapes formed by the walls around the properties. The Afghans are some wall building mofos. Almost everything is built with stone or brick. I was told that a stone wall is cheaper to erect than a chain link fence. The labor here is so cheap and the fencing materials would need to be imported.



The view from the plane was pretty amazing. For a while there were snow covered mountains in every direction. There is very little green, that may have something to do with the time of year, but it’s doubtful that the region gets what one would call lush. The mountains are very rocky and have some incredibly shear faces. I could see meandering streambeds cut into the rock, and tiny villages tucked into small draws in the hillsides. Some of the streambeds appear to be completely dry; they must have been cut over thousands of years by water just from melting snow.

I’ve been looking out the window for over an hour and I am amazed. This region must be one of the most geologically fascinating places on the earth. A smarter person could probably tell you about the different strata that are visible; however, you are stuck with my paltry descriptions. Come to think of it, a smarter person who was better with words might have talked his way out of this trip in the first place.

When we landed in Dubai and made it through all of the hurdles fairly smoothly. After taxiing to the hotel, we checked in, dropped our stuff off, and caught a taxi down to the Suq (pronounced sook – it is a commercial quarter). There was the Gold Suq, the Spice Suq, the Textile Suq, &c. We went to the Gold Suq first and got to see tons of gaudy gold jewelry. We then went to the Spice Suq where I took a couple of photos, and we all bought some spices. They had barrels of saffron, that looked amazing. Larry gave me something to eat from a barrel. “Try it” he said. It was a dried garlic chip, and boy was it pungent. It kind of took my breath away for a second. I’m sure Jeff was wishing that it wouldn’t come back. Now he was with two stinking guys (Larry had already had some).



We walked around the various markets for a while, then took a water taxi to the other side of the creek to have dinner. After finally locating a place, we sat down and had some lamb kebabs, some kebbeh, grape leaves, and baba ganoush. All of which were very good.

After we got back to the hotel, I went to the bar. They apparently allow alcohol in hotels, but there are no pubs on the street. At the bar I spent way too much time and money talking to a Colonel in the US Army, who was going to Italy to meet his family, and a Russian prostitute who looked like Minnie Driver.

We got back to Germany on Friday evening. After checking back into the hotel and retrieving my stuff from a friends room, I headed across the street for some schnitzel and a big ol’ bier. Pork and alcohol, things are starting to get back to normal.

Travels (Part II)

3/17/2007
It’s Saint Patrick’s Day. Happy Birthday Maggie!

I woke up to the call to prayer this morning at 4:45. It lasted for about 5 minutes. At first I thought they were just celebrating the Irish holiday, but someone corrected me. I could have sworn they were chanting Gal-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-gher.

We had a project meeting and a site visit this morning. We travelled in a convoy of 3 vehicles, each had two “shooters”. One of the guys in my vehicle was a private security contractor from Australia. A couple of others had English-ish accents but they didn’t talk enough for me to determine where they were from. The drive today was similar to the first day’s ride; the drivers don’t mess around or stop for anyone. We were often on the left side of the road passing people, but then again so was everyone else. So maybe we didn’t stand out as much as it felt like we did.

We passed some absolute squalor. The Afghans that I saw on this trip seemed ludicrously poor. They must be tough people to live in conditions like that. Almost everything we saw on the ride was the same color (a clay reddish-brown). There are some splashes of bright colors now and again, but everything is basically brown. The soil is mostly clay here, so when it rains everything stays wet for a long time, and it’s very dusty during dry times. It was raining slightly when we were there and everything was a mess. Many of these people live in clay houses (non-fired clay), I wonder what they are like when it rains.

I took some pictures of the site but cannot publish most of them (Hey, I’m not the NY Times, I have respect for confidential information). There are a few on the Flickr page though.

Back at the camp in the afternoon they had a St. Patrick’s Day parade. There were two vehicles and several people walking behind them. They went around the building twice - woo-hoo!

I went into the tent and a cat was sitting on my bed. I shook the bunk but the damn thing didn’t want to move. So I lifted the blanket and finally got it to move. It yelled at me when I chased it out of the tent. I’ll probably get fleas now. It’s a good thing I got that haircut yesterday.

Went back to work till around 2100, and went to bed.

3/18/2007
Sunday (I think).

We had a slower day today. Either that or I am getting used to this place (God help me). We had a couple of meetings, but all of them were in the room in which we were working. In the afternoon we had a meeting with an Afghan General. When they asked him if he wanted coffee or anything, he told them that he and his men wanted to eat. And they did. So we are all standing around looking at each other while these 4 or 5 guys are chowing down. The meeting went well though. The General’s English is not very good, but he seemed like a good guy.

We went back to work after that until dinner. It rained all day today, so we rarely left our room. We are planning to go to Baghram Air Base on Wednesday if we can get a convoy.

3/19/2007
Monday - I’m pretty sure, it certainly feels like a Monday.

Not much happening today, more meetings. We may actually be getting somewhere. This one arrogant little shit expects me to do all of the civil design on this project based upon coordinates that have an accuracy of +/- 1 meter. Oh yeah, and the elevation should be correct to within 10 feet. Everyone on our team wants to strangle him. OK maybe it’s just me, but I’d strangle him three times to make up for the others.

Someone in our tent turned the heater up to 30 deg C (86 deg F) or “Well Done”, I turned it down to ~68 deg F “Medium Rare”. I missed the call to prayer this morning; must have slept through it. Damn, I hate it when that happens!

There was a report of an IED that went off today near here. No word on whether anyone was killed yet. It was on a road that is well traveled by US personnel between Kabul and Baghram. We are scheduled to go to Baghram on Wednesday; I remain hopeful that we will take a different route.

They are expecting the Taliban to start their spring offensive in a couple of days. With any luck, I’ll be gone by then. I do think I could do a tour here though; except for the arrogant little shit and the no booze clause. I really haven’t minded it too much, because we’ve been too busy. And once you’re here for 2-3 months, you get to move out of the tent and into a room in one of the CONEX boxes.

3/20/2007
We had our out-briefing this morning. Everything went pretty well and we spent the rest of the day typing up meeting minutes and such. After dinner a couple of us watched Bubba Ho-Tep in the DFAC. I forgot that Dan Roebuck was in this movie.

Some Intel guy was making sure that everyone knew where to go in case of an attack. Apparently tomorrow (Wednesday) is the Muslim New Year, and the Taliban are expected to start ratcheting up the attacks during the new year. “So if you hear some explosions, that’s what it is”, he reassures us. ”Good to know”, I’m thinking, “I’d be worried if it was some local kids with fireworks; but since they are just incoming mortars, I feel much better.”

We walked across the road to the other camp, just to get out of ours. Had a decent cup of coffee at Greenbeans Café. At east it was better than the old-burned-sock taste of the regular Army coffee.

We did get to witness some rather unsafe building practices today. Moving a 40’ CONEX on a 20’ flatbed trailer was one. A crane truck lowering a CONEX while having two wheels and at least one support raised off of the ground was another.

3/21/2007
We didn’t get to go to Baghram today. It’s Muslim New Year and almost everything is shut down. We are in “Lock Down” and were not even allowed to cross the road to the other camp today. Most of the Embassies are also locked down as a result of New Years and the bombing the other day. I’m not sure how the Muslims celebrate New Years. At least they didn’t celebrate with mortars this year (and that’s really all I care about right now).

It was a pretty boring day really. I did some laundry and packed for tomorrow’s flight out. We are staying over a night in Dubai and are working on finding something to do while we are there. The cook gave us a book and we are looking into it.

I can’t imagine what the Local Nationals who work here think of us, especially the ones in the kitchen. I’m sure they like their jobs, and are therefore happy we are here, but I wonder what they think about us. What I’m trying to get at is, while most of the people around here don’t have a pot to piss in, we Americans are complaining about the food that is incredibly abundant to us here. The chow hall here does not close. You can come in at any time and grab a sandwich, a bowl of cereal, or a cup of hot coffee. The contrast in the quality of life is incredible to me, and I’m living in a tent!

to be continued....

Travels (Part I)

3/14/2007
Our Emirates Air flight to Dubai left Frankfurt on Wednesday afternoon. We were sitting in the terminal when the plane arrived from its last stop. After the passengers had disembarked, out came a parade of amazing looking women dressed in tan suites and red hats with white scarves hanging off the side. Each one was prettier than the last. Then, before the boarding call for our flight, a parade of different but equally gorgeous women (in tan suites and red hats with scarves) walked past us and down the jet way to the plane. I thought this was a good sign.



Inside the plane the stewardess uniform was a little more relaxed, no hats, sweaters, &c. Right after takeoff they handed us a printed dinner menu. This seemed a little overboard to me, because the only choice we had was between chicken and lamb. Still, they had beer (of which I gladly partook) and wine (of which I also partook, with dinner). This would be the last alcohol to cross my lips for at least 8 days.

The seats on the plane were pretty comfortable for economy class. I just wish that Dr. Lauri would pay her taxes on time so I could at least fly business class. The movies on these planes are viewed via video screens built into the back of each seat. This is a good system, in theory, because it allows each person to watch whatever they choose from a list of available shows. It is not so good if you are sitting behind a spastic woman who lurches her head more than Angus Young. I caught a little bit of “Walk the Line” with Arabic subtitles, but I didn’t get any sleep on the flight. I wonder what the interpretation would be for, “I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die”.

After we landed in Dubai, we had a 10-15 minute bus ride from our plane to the terminal. This entire trip was spent passing new terminal construction. This place is already big, but it is going to be enormous. After the bus ride we were greeted by a Marhaba, who is a professional expeditor in a yellow jacket. He got us through Passport control pretty fast, and we were a pretty happy that we each spent the $21 to use him (though we didn’t really have a choice, and are being reimbursed for it anyway – thanks again Lauri). Ironically, after getting through passport control quickly, we had to wait a long time for our bags. As the rest of the people from our flight came to the luggage claim carousel, it suddenly, well actually gradually, became apparent that the $21 dollars didn’t seem like such a bargain. But once we got our bags and were led through an incredible maze of people, walkways, and driveways to reach a cab, it was clear that it probably was worth $21.

We finally arrived and managed to check into the hotel at about 0230 Dubai time. I finally got the lights in my room turned on, watched a little Al Jazeera, and zonked out. But not before noticing the spray nozzle attached to a hose at the side on the toilet. It made me feel like I was taking a dump in someone’s kitchen sink. Something I haven't done since that party before the 1995 Kentucky Derby.



3/15/2007
We needed to get back to the airport about 0930, so I got up at 0810 showered and went to breakfast. This hotel had the strangest breakfast buffet I’ve ever seen. They offered Asian Fried Rice and Noodles, Chicken Sausage, Beef Bacon, Foul Medames (which I’ve read about as Ful Medames or Fool Medames, they are Egyptian I think, and are basically baked fava beans), some smoked salmon, and scrambled eggs. You could also get eggs cooked to order. Notwithstanding the oddness of the menu, this was a first class joint.

We drove to the airport in a hotel van, and the drive can best be described as “forceful”. We cleared security without incident, went to the terminal and waited for the plane. We flew out of Dubai on a United Nations Humanitarian Air Service (UNHAS) plane. Surprisingly enough the plane was not full, and we had a stripped down, but tasty meal.

Once we landed in Kabul things changed a bit. We loaded into two Toyota Land Cruisers, and had to put on helmets and flack jackets. Before we left, the soldier driving and the one in the passenger seat cocked their 9mm sidearms to ensure that a round was in the chamber. The ride to the camp was a wild one. The trucks would go through blocking maneuvers at every intersection. When we approached an intersection, the forward car would drive wide into the path of opposing traffic and slow down enough to let the rear car pass. This was done a number of times and I don’t think we ever came to a complete stop.

Upon arrival we were given a tour of the camp (which lasted for the better part of 10 minutes). The camp is a strange mix of tents and buildings made from shipping container (CONEX) boxes. We visited supply and had to sign for a mish-mash of sheets, pillows, and a blanket. We located three empty bunks in two different tents. I was lucky enough to get a bottom bunk right away, Larry had to wait two days, and Jeff never got one. The bunk was surprisingly comfortable, and the bathrooms that were in a nearby building were also decent.



The bathrooms were private units, each one having a toilet, sink, and a shower. The toilets were somewhat strange in that the hole was at the front and the bowl was rather shallow and almost flat. I don’t know about you, but my ass is in the back. Luckily I had noticed this oddity before dropping a deuce and had performed a courtesy flush. If not for the flush, I may have reached back and got a handful of Hershey. Maybe if you dropped little rabbit turds, they would roll down into the water, but everything else will just sit there until the water from the flush pushes it away.



The dining facility (DFAC) was decent, and the food was pretty good. Although on the first day I had a carton of milk that was older than a carton of juice I also had. The milk was some kind of ultra-pasteurized carton and it hadn’t expired yet (but it was about nine months old).

3/16/2007
On Friday afternoons there is a bazaar at the camp across the road from ours. In order to cross the road to the other base, it is required that we don helmets and flack jackets. We then walk through a maze of walls made of concrete, rock, and Hesco bastions. The guards are mainly local nationals, and are all armed with AK-47s.

The bazaar is basically a big open air yard sale where the local people come in to sell stuff. Somebody tell Al Russo that I think I saw Anissa’s brother Hyatt. Lots of ornate junk is available there, and most of the vendors are trying to sell you the same stuff (scarves, carpets, necklaces, &c). Some of the antiques may be of actual value – but one would need to have more knowledge than I to ascertain it. The military police would not allow any photos in the bazaar or on the other base. We went on to the base and I got an “army haircut”.

We went back to our camp and watched a little bit of the NCAA tournament. I even tried a Bitburger non-alcoholic beer. It was horrid! Tasted like carbonated water with hops in it. I ended up pouring about half of it out.

to be continued...

(there are more pictures on the Flickr page, click on any of the pictures to go to it)

Time to go…

We’ll be leaving Afghanistan first thing tomorrow morning, spending the night in Dubai, and should arrive in Frankfurt around 1830 Friday evening. It’s been an interesting time here, but I’ll be glad to get back to Germany. I’ve taken a few pictures here and hope to take some more in Dubai tomorrow. I’ve kept some notes and will fill you in on the adventure when I get back.

I haven’t had any run-ins with strange meats though. Apparently the promise of an entire goat, to be roasted by the villagers in my honor, was nothing more than an elaborate ruse to get me here. I’ve been eating strictly in the dining facility at the camp since I’ve been here. There may be a chance to experience some strange foods in Dubai though, so I'll keep my fingers crossed.

I’ll have more in a couple of days...

Incommunicado

I will be heading out of town on temporary duty (TDY) today for about one and a half weeks. Not sure how much, or even if, I’ll be able to update while I’m gone. So I’ll leave you with these words of wisdom from the Good Book…

"Come," each one cries, "let me get wine! Let us drink our fill of beer! And tomorrow will be like today, or even far better."
Isaiah 56:12

Hopefully I'll come back with stories and pictures from strange and wonderous lands! Or at least strange and wonderous meats.

Where are the nomination forms?

This guy should be a shoo-in for a Nobel Prize ...

http://wcco.com/watercooler/watercooler_story_066191832.html

Does anyone know how to go about the nomination process?

Panda

This weekend I rented the ugliest car in the world. It is a Fiat Panda. Apparently it seemed like a good idea to the Italians to name this car after a large slow moving creature that seems to have a problem getting laid. At least it must have problems reproducing, because every time a baby Panda is born it is international news for a week. Or at least until its mother rolls over on it and squishes the little guy. Actually the car is probably perfect for me, because I’m a large, slow moving creature, and it’s big news every time I … oh never mind!



In case I haven’t already lost you, the Fiat Panda is not a family car. Unless your family is small, ugly, and unconcerned about personal safety. Although it does have four doors, and has seat belts for four, I would predict that it comfortably fits approximately zero people. The color scheme was obviously picked out by someone who felt the ability to camouflage vomit was important. As uncomfortable as it was, it was all they had and it was cheap. I was disparaging when I called the Mini Cooper a pregnant skateboard, it was a limo compared to this thing. But the Panda did its job, got me to the apartment visits and various other places.



Went out on the Autobahn today and got the Panda up over 150 km/hr (~ 95 mph), but it was on a downhill. I felt like Col. Steve Austin trying to hold this thing together. It started shaking and shimmied a little bit. It felt like pieces might start flying off of it at anytime. Luckily this is not the Alps, and the grade switched to uphill. At this point the velocity diminished greatly.

Driving north on A-3, I spotted some sort of monument ahead at the Limburg exit. Great, a monument to stinky cheese! Maybe it would even smell a little bit at the monument. Maybe they have a gift shop! I think I might have sped up a bit in anticipation (and because it was a downhill slope). After exiting the Autobahn it was discovered that the ‘Monument’ was really just a sign for the Limburg Railport. Imagine my disenchantment.



As it turns out, Limburger cheese is not even from Limburg, Germany. The malodorous delicacy is from Belgium. So with a heavy heart, and an ugly car, I turned around and headed back towards Wiesbaden.

Zungenwurst

I looked at three different apartments in the Eltville area today. All of them were nice and they were different enough to one another to make the decision seemingly easy. Seemingly.

The first one was a second floor apartment. The landlord and his family live on the first floor. It has a garage, but it is set back from the road so it will require backing up a pretty long way. Parking could be done in the rear of the house, but there is a cherry tree with branches hanging over the space. i.e. birdshit and fruit all over my truck. No thanks. The owner is in the process of redoing the kitchen and it should be very nice once it is complete. It has plenty of room and a washer/dryer hookup along with some storage space in the basement. He is also adding a stand alone wood fireplace. The view out the back of the house is right into the vineyards. Looks great now, but once the cherry tree has leaves it will reduce the visibility somewhat.

The second place was a townhome in the middle of Rauenthal, which is right next to Eltville. There is a garage, but I would not be able to get my truck into it. It is on Antoniusgasse (perfect street name, right?), which is a narrow cobblestone street. Actually, gasse means alley so it’s basically Antone’s Alley. There is a bakery just across this street. When I say just across, I mean like 20 feet away from the face of my building. The good thing is that I would be able to look out my bedroom window and be able to tell what baked goods were in stock. The bad thing is no one is getting a pickup into that garage. The owner of the property kept telling me to try it with his car, and I just kept pretending not to hear him. Finally we go over to his car and he tries to back it into the garage. He ends up gouging the side of his Mercedes pretty good. Like I said, no one is getting a pickup into that garage. There is a church just past the bakery, and the truck could always be parked there. But then what is the use of having the garage? The good thing is the apartment is right in the town, with a number of restaurants and wine houses within spitting distance. The bad thing is it has the highest security deposit and a basically unusable garage. It also has a very small yard, and the view is not great.

The third place was in Walluf and had the best garage access of the three. It consisted of the first two floors with a one bedroom apartment above it. The owner was willing to leave behind one wardrobe near the entrance, a large three unit wardrobe in the bedroom, a spare bed frame, and the washer & dryer. The washer and dryer however, would not be replaced by him if they broke down. The wardrobes are important because very few places in Germany have built in closets, so this would be one less item that would need to be purchased or borrowed from the base furniture office. He and his family lived in the apartment, but he has moved to Frankfurt. This place had a nice kitchen (small, but nice), and it had a gas stove. Almost every other place I’ve looked at or heard of had an electric stove. The building was set back off the main road in a sort of cul-de-sac. The bedroom is below the street level, but all of the windows have built in shutters. It is in a residential area, but there are restaurants and everything else nearby. Perhaps not within spitting distance, but definitely within walking distance.

The plan was to take pictures of each place so they could be compared later; however, I forgot my camera. Since my appointments were all one hour apart, there was no time to go back for it. So I jotted down some notes about each place when I left. All of them are relatively the same distance from work, so there’s not a nickel’s worth of difference in that department. The townhouse was the largest, but all of them were large enough for what I need. Most of my big tools are at my sister’s and it’s not like anyone is going to visit me here. Each place is in the same general area so there is not a real regional difference either.

I went back to the hotel and dropped off my notes, picked up the camera, and headed out to the Wiesbaden open-air market. It was pretty neat. A lot of people were there, and I must have seen 4 or 5 different cheese mongers and an equal number of butchers. The produce all looked very good, especially the Brussels sprouts, but all I bought was a couple of apples. There s no way of cooking anything at the hotel (besides a microwave – which doesn’t count, Beth!). I was looking for the Ostermarkt (Easter market), but am not sure where it is. I thought it was at this same market, but apparently it is not.

So, I went back to the hotel again to drop off the haul and make a zungenwurst sandwich. I had bought some zungenwurst (blood sausage with tongue in it) yesterday at a Metzgerei (butchery or meat market). I felt like a kid in a candy shop in this place. I kept asking questions and trying things, it was a beautiful experience. I need to get a list and start checking things off as they are tried. The variety they have in even the smallest of these stores is simply amazing. It’s a long way from Oscar Meyer.

After being sufficiently satiated with the zungenwurst sandwich, I hit the road again. The first thing on the agenda was to drive by the office and then out to Eltville to time the “best case” commutes. It turns out that it will only take around 15-20 minutes to get to work from any of the apartments. I then drove north along the Rhein River just to see the sites. After taking some pictures of some more castles from the roadside, it was time to turn around and head back. I went by the first apartment. This is the one that backs up to the vineyards. I drove past it and into the vineyard, and walked around the vineyard for a little while. Ahead on the path was a girl with an unleashed dog (it is pretty common to see dogs without a leash here, although they are always under the watchful eye of their owners). The dog must have had quite a workout because he was dragging ass up the hill almost as much as me. Only his owner wasn’t about to rub me behind the ears. I took some pictures from the vineyard of the apartment, and the surrounding area. There is a large house inside the vineyards that is also a restaurant; however it was not open yet. Someone said that it does not open until sometime in April. Later I remembered the apartment owner telling me about a bier garten located just up the road.

Once inside the bier garten, my decision was pretty much made. The dinner of prime rib with cabbage salad and a potato dumpling was very good. The place was pretty rustic, even having straw on the floor. While approaching the restaurant, a dark brown and black (almost brindle colored) long haired dog got up and lazily sauntered over to me. I put out my hand for him to sniff, and he licked it. I petted him on the head and opened the door. The dog walked right past me heading inside of the restaurant. No one paid him any mind, so neither did I. The place is full of rough hewn timbers, and the solid wood tables must be a good 3” thick.

The bier garten is maybe a mile from the apartment, and the restaurant within the vineyard is less than that. Putting it plainly, I think I found my new home. Now I just have to hope that no one else rents it before I can get my truck and all my stuff. The main thing is the truck, because it would mean a long term car rental if I don’t have a vehicle here. It should be here around the end of the month, so let’s keep those fingers crossed.

Click on the zungenwurst to go to my flickr page and see a veritable plethora of pictures from today.

Zungenwurst, es ist wunderbar!!

TK + DK

Sit down, grab a cup of Joe, and I will tell you a story about something that I didn’t think was possible.

I’m in love.

Go ahead, read that again, I didn’t believe it the first time I saw it written either.

I just realized it a couple of minutes ago, and there is simply no other way to state it. I’m in love! Several people told me this would happen, but I didn’t believe them. I told them that, while I was not writing off the possibility, I didn’t see it happening.

We met for dinner on Monday, and again for lunch on Tuesday. I had to walk about one mile out of my way, but we did dinner again tonight (Thursday). It was during tonight's dinner that I came to my conclusion. I didn’t say anything though, because … well … because I’m an idiot.

Sure, it may be the fact that I’m away from home; however, I’ve been away for 15 years in the past and only came close to falling a time or two. It may be because I’m in a foreign land and do not speak the language; but let’s face it who among you believes that you and I are really speaking the same language (on a consistent basis)? It could be because my sarcastic wit (or caustic personality, as it’s been called, on more than one occasion) has not entered the equation yet.

Perchance it's the lilting sounds of “The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark” playing on the CD and the small cup of Woodford Reserve in my hand that are altering my mood. Maybe it’s just a mid-life crisis (just one of many, according to my mother). I don’t know what it is. Though I am sure that everyone who knows me will be surprised at the speed with which this has occurred. I know I was.

Maybe it won’t last. The light of love may soon fade when my fickle personality enters the scene. Perhaps some younger and prettier little thing might come along and try to dissuade me from my current passion.

However, I cannot live my life dwelling on reasons that my (our) love won’t last. Why can’t things stay the way they are right now? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I experience love? Perfect love, just like … well, OK nobody I know … but I see movies and hear songs about it all the time. So it has to exist, doesn’t it?

I know I’ve screwed things up in the past by rushing things, or being too cautious, or getting scared whenever things are going too well. But I am determined not to let it happen again.

See, I’ve really fallen hard for Döner Kebab.

Döner Kebab is a Turkish sandwich similar to a Greek Gyro. The meat is cooked on a vertical rotisserie. It is made up of one or more of several meats (lamb, veal, chicken, turkey, beef … no pork though, so it’s not perfect). The meats are stacked into a cylindrical form with a rotisserie bar through the middle. The ones that I sampled were turkey, with at least one being turkey and veal. The meat is sliced off in very thin pieces with either a long carving knife or an electric knife-like-contraption. The thin slices allow for the perfect ratio of charred to moist flesh, and since it’s cooked on a vertical rotisserie, it is basically self-basting.

After the carving, approximately one-half of the meat is placed into a sliced and toasted pita (or some other flatbread). The next additions are lettuce, tomato, some cabbage, and perhaps some cheese (Feta! Yeah baby! Feta!), and/or some peppers (these items will vary from place to place). Then it is sauced with either a yoghurt sauce or a spicy garlic sauce (both are excellent, but I prefer the garlic), and topped with the other one-half of the meat.

Wrapped up in a small wax paper package, and costing about 4 or 5 bucks it is as pure a pleasure as I have found here. Those of you who have spent any time in Germany are sure to know about these already. Apparently they are as popular here as pizza or burgers are in the U.S. And although it is not as easy to eat as a McWhatever, it is well worth the time it takes to stop and eat one in a stationary position.

But, I won’t be a fool and rush in just yet. I won’t make any commitments. I’ll try other things for lunch and for dinner. Maybe I’ll even feel the need to test out the old saying that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” for a while. Perhaps one day I will I find something else worthy of bestowing my love upon. Until then, it’ll be me and Döner Kebab.

Geography

OK, today we’re going to have a geography quiz. Go to this site to see how many of the 50 States in the U.S. of A. that you can name in 10 minutes. You have to type in the names, and spelling counts or misspelling doesn’t. I guess it all depends if you are a glass-half-empty or glass-half-full person. Myself, I just think the glass in too big.

Once the site loads, the time starts right away. So be ready…

http://www.ironicsans.com/state22.html

I manage to get all 50, but I was stuck on 49 for a while. Feel free to let me know how badly you kicked my butt.

Imports?

I bought a crate of beer on post yesterday (Sunday). It is a fine Weissbier, from a brewery in the town of Lohr am Main in Germany (the country where I am presently located).

My question is, "Why was it in the Imports section and the Bud Light in the Domestic section?"

Rudesheim

Drove around quite a bit today. Had a couple of donuts from an open bakery (not a lot of places are open here on Sundays). The Donuts were pretty good, not Krispy Kreme good but good. They did not have any coffee to go though, so I had to make due with some kind of apple juice cocktail thing (I don't know what it was, the ingredients were written in German...).

Anyhoo ... it was a beautiful day! The first one since I've been here really. It's been raining or overcast almost every day. This is probably due to all of this global dampening. Someone call Al Gore dammit!

http://www.channel4.com/science/microsites/G/great_global_warming_swindle/index.html

I went cruising on the autobahn to see what this Mini could do. I had it up to almost 150km/hr, or at least 90 mph, before there was a section of road with some construction forcing me to reduce my speed. That's OK, I don't think the little bugger had much left in him at that point anyway.

So I drove up past Eltville into Rudesheim. I knew it was further into wine country than Eltville was, but did not realize that it was home to the Schloss Johannesburg. This is the home of the Johannesburg Riesling style of wine. I went up the Schloss, and there were vineyards as far as the eye could see in 3 directions. I took some pictures, but I'm not sure that they capture the expanse of grape vines that I saw.

Short entry today, check out the pictures and the Flickr page for more.

Eltville

I drove to Eltville today to check out the area. I'm thinking about renting a place there, but I haven't even seen the apartment yet. The Housing Office here operates with an efficiency and rationality that can only be referred to as "governmental". That is an issue for another post though. Today I have pictures of and around the Castle at Eltville.

Here is some history about the Castle that I culled from "Castles along the Rhein River from Cologne to Mainz". The site is located at:

http://www.mediaspec.com/castles/rhein/index.html

Erzbichofburg, The Archbishop's Castle in Eltville

The castle in Eltville was built on the banks of the Rhein in 1330. Untill its destruction in 1635 it was the seat of the Bishops of Mainz, In the "Grafensaal" (Hall of the Counts) of the castle, Gutenberg, the inventor of printing, received the only tribute paid to him during his life-time. He was summoned into the court services by Adolf II of Nassau, Archbishop of Mainz, and thereby achieved economic security for his old age. A printer's workshop, dating from the 15th century, set up in one of the rooms, testifies to his work.

I didn't see any of the Gutenberg stuff, not even a Police Academy marathon. Anyway, here are the pictures...











There are more, and larger, pictures at my flickr site. Just click on one of the pictures above to go to the site.

Eltville is in the Rheingau (Rhein District), and has many vinyards. I would have taken some pictures of the hills, but everything is barren now, and the rain was closing in. Here's some info about German Wine and the Rheingau:

http://www.germanwine.de/english/d_reg/r_rhein.htm

http://www.deutscheweine.de/internet-en/nav/f84/f847d719-ffe4-01e7-6cd4-61d7937aae22$20950559-5a8d-4501-e76c-d461d7937aae.htm

Tag Along

Today is Friday. Greg offers to take me to get a rental car at lunchtime. Maybe ‘offers’ is the wrong word, it was probably more likely that he broke down under the stress of my constant cajoling. Anyway you want to look at it is fine with me. So Greg takes me to the rental car office which is, of course, out of cars. The idiot that has been thinking, and talking, about renting a car for several days has apparently never bothered to actually reserve one. However the girl at the rental car place (the one with the huge … tracks of land) calls their office across the river, and yes they have cars. After a little more needling, Greg drives me across the river to the other rental office. After he is assured that I will get a car, he high-tails it out of there.

The girl at the new rental office (she doesn't have huge … tracks of land, but she definitely had eyes like saucers) writes me up. As she explains the insurance policy in broken, yet …somehow … irresistible, English I just keep nodding. “OK, you want me to drop my pants, then turn around and bend over, while Hans takes that long rusty pipe and …”

It turns out that they only have one car, and it’s not the Volkswagen Polo that my bank account and I are hoping for. No, it’s a Mini Cooper or a Cooper Mini; I’m not sure what the order is supposed to be. Did you ever see the movie “The Italian Job”? Picture a 270 lb guy driving one of those. Oh yeah, it’s a convertible to boot! The car is actually pretty roomy inside, and really handles pretty well. It’s got some pep, and almost all the cars here are standard transmissions. So you can really get the feel of the little bugger as you’re winding it out while whipping through the gears (hey, it’s a rental!).

Once on the highway, the sheer joy of careening down the road is suddenly interrupted by one question, “Where the hell am I?” Now let me assure you that no amount of prior instruction can possibly prepare you for the feeling of driving in a foreign country, alone, having only ever walked within a two mile radius of your hotel, and knowing only one bus line, and almost no German, and all the signs are in … well, it’s not English that’s for sure.

This might be a good time to explain a little something about Ole’ Adolph’s beloved Autobahn. It was certainly THE idea of the time, and its implementation made Germany a power to be reckoned with. And like most ideas, it is often the second or third entrants to the party that refine it and/or make it comprehensible to the teeming millions . So while the German Autobahn was the forbearer, it was the US Interstate Highway System that really took advantage of the idea. The Interstate system in the US is numbered somewhat logically: east-west highways are given even numbers; north-south highways are delineated by odd numbers. All the exits are numbered sequentially, and in most states are given the numbers of the nearest mile-marker. So if you were traveling on I-80 E (east) in Pennsylvania, Exit 176 would be 176 miles from the beginning of I-80 in western PA. The exit numbers start again at mile marker 1 in New Jersey. If you’ve noticed, when you get onto an Interstate, there will usually be a sign for the next major town. In Germany the highways have no exit numbers, just town names. The highways are also not given a descriptor of North or South. All the sign tells you, is which major city is next. So instead of coming to an exit that says “I-65N to Indianapolis”, it would just read “I-65 Indianapolis”, from whichever direction you were approaching it. If you are not sure which city you are heading towards, and where you are, there is no hope.

I believe that this is the reason that Americans always seem to know less geography than Europeans. It’s not just the size and density of countries, it’s because you need to know geography to be able to leave your home town. Much like cash registers have eroded the ability to make change, the Exit numbers on highways have eroded our knowledge of geography. It’s a conspiracy I tell you! Speaking of conspiracies, has anyone heard of or from JD Bandy lately? Wonder what he’s up to.

OK, so now that we are up to speed on some of the German highway nomenclature, allow me to toss in another wrinkle: for every major city like Wiesbaden there are several exits, ALL named Wiesbaden and then the next smaller town or section of the city. So instead of having an Exit 15 North and Exit 15 South, the sign might say Wiesbaden-Biebrich and Wiesbaden-Bierstadt. Sometimes it’s initialed, as in Wi-Sonnenburg and the like. So let me paint this picture for you: we’ve got one ignorant American, alone, and driving a pregnant skateboard, at high speeds ... hardly a recipe for success.

Where were we? Oh yeah, “Where the hell am I?” As it turns out, I get a little lost on the way back from the car rental place. No problem I think, I’ll just keep driving and I’ll see something I recognize… After about a half an hour of driving I pull over to turn around. In the rearview mirror I see an older man walking down the street. I get out of the car, and approach him.

“Sprechen zie English?”

“Nein”

“Uh…woe ist die Bahnhoff?” (Where is the train station?)

“Which one?” (he replies in perfect English)

“Uh… uh… Schiersteiner Strasse und Konrad-Adenauer” (this is an intersection near the train station)

He laughs. He’s still speaking German but I can roughly make out what he’s saying. I want to know where the train station in Wiesbaden is, but I am not in Wiesbaden. Apparently I’ve taken a wrong turn, and am now in some other town. The old man is laughing, waving his arms, and patting me on the back. He saying something that sounds a lot like, “You ignorant American, didn’t you ever take geography?” I thank him, get in the Mini and drive off in the direction he was waving toward.

Sure enough, and by pure dumb luck, after a couple of kilometers, I figure out where I am. So I drive to the PX to get gas coupons and a map (which probably would’ve helped earlier). Then I stop by the gas station and the liquor store to get some bourbon. Of course they don’t have any Old Forester, so I end up getting Woodford Reserve (a sacrifice I am willing to make). After this, I drive to the Air Base to finish my in-processing. I go to one office and the guy there tells me exactly the opposite thing that everyone else has been telling me. He’s one of these guys who is so sure of himself that you just know he has to be wrong. But, OK. I don’t know who is telling me the right thing, and right now I don’t care. So I wander over to the housing office to take a look at some listings. The housing office is, of course, closing just as I get to it. I leave and decide to head back to the office and, sure enough, get lost again. I find my way back to the office, manage to park and get into the building without any further incidents. At the elevator there is a little girl and her mother standing next to a table with some boxes stacked on top of it. The little girl approaches me and asks me a question. So now I am faced with a dilemma … which goes better with fine bourbon, Tagalongs or Thin Mints?

Tonight it’s the Thin Mints, maybe tomorrow it will be the Tagalongs.

Eat your veggies!

So I ate a vegetarian lunch the other day. I can still barely talk about it, because the taste is still there. It’s almost hidden behind the flavor of the meats but when I belch, there is still a tangible hint of vegetables. I think for a minute there yesterday, I almost got in touch with my “gatherer” side. It gives me the willies just thinking about it...

The worst part of this whole bout with non-carnivorous eating was that it wasn’t even on the purpose. Due to some meetings and such, lunch was later than usual. The cafeteria in our building closes earlier than the German cantina across the way. (How’s that for the American entrepreneurial spirit? “Hey guys, I’ve got a good idea. Why don’t we close BEFORE our competitors? That ought to really pull in the customers!”) The brilliant business plan of the cafeteria led me to the cantina where, “Surprise, surprise, Sergeant Carter!” there was still a line. Once inside, being the insightful kind of guy I am, I went for the shorter line. At first everything looked fine, rice, something with some cream sauce, and a patty of mystery meat. It wasn’t until seated at the table that I realized the reason the line was short. The mystery meat was a vegetable patty disguised to look like meat. So there I sat, eating my vegetables. Damn, I sure hope my mother reads this.

Now I don’t want to get off on a tangent here, but…I will. I’ve never understood these vegetarian burgers, low-carb pastas, and fat free spreads. Shouldn’t the whole point of not eating something (whatever the alleged reasoning) be, to not eat it and therefore to eventually no longer crave it? Could it be that eating non-fat or sugar-free ice cream is way worse than just going without? If for no other reason than it just desensitizes you to the whole idea of eating ice cream? Shouldn’t people who don’t want alcohol just drink water instead of alcohol-free beer? Shouldn’t low-carbers just eat salad instead of low-carb pasta? Shouldn’t vegetarians just eat vegetables instead of these semi-meat-like patties? All of these people who say, “It tastes just like…” or, “You can’t tell the difference…” are lying to themselves. Even worse, they are trying to lie to me.

Now I’ve never been one to deny myself, and I’m not winning any beauty contests. Although, at one time, I was first runner-up in the “Mr. Funhouse” competition. But that was due to the inadvertent dropping of the trou’ (nudge, nudge). And think there were only three people in the competition. Also I’ve certainly never been one to heed my own advice (so don’t try this at home kids, you’ll pt an eye out), so take all of this with a grain of salt (and for Christ’s sake, don’t use any of that salt replacement crap).

That said, being the true contrarian I am, I didn’t eat any meat today. Once again, it wasn’t on purpose. Events conspired against me. I was in a meeting until late lunchtime, and was supposed to go to the medical clinic with another guy. He wandered off, and while I was waiting for him everything closed. We eventually got to where we needed to go, but I never got to lunch. For dinner I had the Spaetzle that I discussed previously. Which was disappointing, but at least it had cheese on it! I had a disappointing dinner last night too. I went to a Greek place and had some overcooked pasta with shrimp and a tomato and eggplant sauce. The sauce was pretty good, but the noodles were just mushy. I think I just need to stick to sausage! Although I’ve heard of some decent Turkish places around town, so we’ll see.
The thing that is especially unacceptable is that I can cook a disappointing meal by myself, thank you very much! I don’t need to wander around town, read menus in German, pay exorbitant prices just to be disappointed. Or I wouldn’t need to if I had a kitchen ... soon …

The plans for this weekend are to rent a car and drive around to some of the outlying towns and try to decide where I want to live. I’m not sure whether to live in town or in one of the surrounding areas. Eltville is a town nearby, along the Rhine, just at the edge of the wine country that I want to look at. Others are more up in the hills. Bavaria is too far away, so there will be no living on top of a brewery, or at least a well known one. Who’s to say what the neighbors will cook up in their bathtubs? The dream of living above a butcher shop is still a remote possibility, though I doubt I can get one that actually slaughters their own animals. I wanted to wake up to the death squeals of the pigs being led to slaughter. It would be cheaper than an alarm clock, and I wouldn’t be able to hit the snooze.

If the weather is nice, I’ll take pictures.