Bombing Down the 'Bahn: Trip to Germany

If you've never driven down the Autobahn, I recommend it, if only to tell people that you did so. The thrill of driving 100 mph and having a BMW whiz past you at least 40 mph faster is like nothing else. I, unfortunately, had the bad luck to drive the majority of the time at night, and since I am one of the millions of Americans who suffers from the harmless congenital stationary night blindness (can't-see-shit-in-the-dark), I was forced to drive significantly slower than I would have preferred. Still, it was nice to be free from the nerve-wracking process of cresting hills at 77 mph, afraid there's a quota-filler t-rexing in the bushes below...

After sleeping in the backseat of my rental car and ensuring i wouldn't be discovered during the night by covering my car with snow before bed, I awoke on Saturday morning cold, alone, but in Munich. An interesting city best saved for the summer's biergarten outdoor drinking fests or the fall's infamous Oktoberfest, Munich was enjoyable if only to experience the Weissbier, pretzels, and Weisswurst veal sausage. (These three things made up 90% of my weekend diet). But I recommend going in the summer when you can experience it at its best.

Although I thought renting a car would cut down costs of hotels (I slept in the car for two nights) as well as provide me with the luxury of freedom, I found both to be utterly untrue. I haven't felt as shackled with something in a long time when I had the rental car parked illegally in Munich, and between the parking garage and the following general principle, I spent way way more on the car than I would've on a train ticket:

For one person:
car + gas - train ticket - hostel cost = net loss

For multiple people:
car + gas - 2+ train tickets - hostel costs for two = possible net gain

Although my Saturday was a low point of loneliness, missed opportunities, closed museums, and walking in snow, my trip was saved after I went to the world famous Hofbrauhaus, "prosted" 2.5L of beer (84 ounces, or 7 beers), and woke up with my eyes sealed shut on Sunday. For the first time in the history of the world, I think I drank away sorrow, and went on to see a fantastic how-things-work science museum (the mostly bilingual Deutches museum) and eventually Neuschwanstein Castle, the fairy-tale castle built (and never inhabited) by Mad King Ludwig II that would eventually serve as the inspiration for Disneyland's Sleeping Beauty castle.

The castle was great - don't get me wrong, and you should probably see it for yourself if you ever venture to these parts. But beware - no one ever lived there (Ludwig, and his money, disappeared when only 1/3 of the interior rooms were finished), and you should probably go to the overlook bridge, because it's impossible to see the postcard view without climbing a mountain or two, and the view from the ground makes breadth and depth hard to appreciate.

My trip to Germany was a lot more expensive than I thought it would be (round trip airfare, after all, had only cost me $35) but a good experience, if nothing more than to teach me the valuable lesson that vacations and rental cars are best done with someone else.

out of retirement

It's ironic that the longest time I would go inbetween posts immediately followed a post announcing my return... how ironic indeed...

Rather than pull a Roger Clemens and announce my retirement only to draw more publicity (and money) by ceremoniously unretiring twice, I'm just going to make a calm collected return to the blog. I'm back. that's it.

Truth be told, I grew tired (and short on ideas) of writing anecdotal collections of short cynical stories. I wanted to write more cohesive pieces that captured my readers' interests and led them through the hoops I had to jump through in my story.

So, effectively, I am unretired. But I'd prefer to think of it as reborn, like the Phoenix.

Tomorrow I will tell the story of the fruit flies, and how they have captured the kitchen and are presently camped out in the foothills of the dining room. Their front line is advancing as we speak, and although they take many casualties, they show an unconscious hunger for victory and push onward towards our lands. I must not ignore the presence of scouts in my bedroom, for they are coming, I know it. I must stop them...

A glorious day

Tonight was different than Monday. Not just because the Astros won, clinching the NL pennant for the first time in franchise existence, and are headed to the World Series, but also because I remained calm and level-headed, much like Bagwell and Biggio, who weren't yelling and screaming, but smiling, patting each other on the back, and feeling happy. Monday I would have run into the streets in my underwear, proclaiming the good news to the 6am streets, only to be shot at most likely. Tonight, I grabbed my celebratory beer, opened it, and settled in with a huge smile on my face. I'm not sure if i matured as a baseball fan, more capable of handling the highs and lows, or if I was simply still numb from Monday night. But rather than overwhelming enthusiasm, I felt just happy. Pleased. Content.

Finally. The World Series in Houston. What a day.

Astros one win away

So I haven't written in this in a week or maybe more (i'm not too sure) but it's not because I've forgotten. I just haven't had much to report. I'm teaching, I love it, my kids are great, blah blah blah.

I'm working on trying to create longer, more captivating stories, since someone has stopped sending me silver packages of nice one-paragraph making-fun-of-Europe stories (Don't let me track you down, whoever you are...). Now, I'm left with the terrible predicament: I must mature as a writer. I'm not entirely sure i'm capable of that.

For now, I'll just fill up space slobbering over the Astros, who turned the Greatest Double Play of All Time last night. In case you're living with Osama B.L. in a foxhole (even Spanish TV showed a highlight of the game), a mental gaffe allowed Larry Walker to sneak (like Gollum) over to third base with one out in the top of the ninth and the astros ahead 2-1. Lidge was on the mound, and since he had got just one double play all year (spanning 70+ innings), it appeared that we would need another miracle to pull this one out. And a miracle was delivered. A softly hit ground ball that Thom Brennaman of FOX said would be impossible to turn came to Bruntlett, who gave the crispest and quickest relay to second I have ever seen. That was one. But it would still take the most fluid turn and bullet throw to first to nab the hustling Mabry. Adam Everett, who plays every game not because of his bat, was probably one of two or three shortstops in the last half century who could have turned it. He did. I went crazy.

It is no surprise that my German roommmate did not speak to me today; I most likely woke her up on half a dozen occasions last night. But it was worth it. The only thing disappointing about last night was that Backe won't get the credit due after pitching almost as well as he did last year in game 5. What a game.

All this has contributed to maybe my best day in Spain; I taught two nice classes, planned my lessons for the next week, cooked an Indian curry that would make Vikash proud, and drank a liter of wine that cost me €.50 (about $.60). My roommate and i have decided to speak only in Spanish to each other in effort to improve and that made me pleased almost as much as cooking dinner, doing the dishes, and doing my laundry did. If you want to laugh at me for being happy at things a domesticated housewife normally hates, well go ahead. You still couldn't rain on my parade today. Only the Cardinals could do that...

Ok I take that back. I just turned on the TV to watch the game. The media favoring the *&$#% white sox for the first time in mmmm ever, is pissing me off. The Red Sox are one thing. They've talked about the Red Sox for the last 8-9 years. They've conveniently ignored the WSox while the Cubs and RSox "curses" (curses shmurses - they don't exist) have dominated media time over the last few years. But now, it's like someone just finally realized the WSox haven't been there and told FOX and they've run with it. C'Mon! Your stories are just as good on our side! Clemens and Pettitte teaming up? Bagwell and Biggio, in their twilight, finally getting a shot? 15-30? Last season? No... all they want to talk about is 1917 and "Go Go White Sox." The Cards and the 'Stros have been two of the classiest and most consistent organizations over the last 10 years. Not to mention teams that do draw pretty well attendance-wise (we're not talking about the '03 Marlins or the '00s Braves)

Thank you AJ Pierzynski. "I don't really know anything about 1917 other than what you media people talk about." So irritating...

Planes, Trains, Automobiles, Buses, and Feet

So i went to Chicago for the wedding and everything went pretty much according to plan - a bride got married, some extended family got drunk and said a little too much about some things, and the best man told an embarrassing story about the groom. I was just glad to be there for Becka.

Trouble is, Cádiz is harder to get to than Hanover, NH. By the time this trip will be done, I'll have taken the following transports:

2 planes, a train (Sevilla to Cádiz), an automobile (to O'Hare airport), a bus (to Sevilla train station), and foot. Add in about five taxis and double everything else and you'll have my total trip transportation. Don't let my girlfriend ever tell you I don't try....

The other chafe is the waiting. Total estimated layover time: 8 hours. And then there's always the lovely surprises, like when the old man next to you in the train station takes off his shoes. And socks. And somehow makes a room with three-story high ceilings feel like a 2 foot wide high school gym locker. Or the "designated smoking areas" in the airports which are large areas appearing every thirty feet or so, ensuring that you're always in the war zone. I can't tell you what a welcome relief that was stepping off the puddle hop with a vise around your temples, 4 lbs. of cotton stuffed into your throat and the distinct feeling that someone had pulled open your eyelids and blown air into your eyes for a full minute and walking into a cloud of smoke.

So i heard i missed the game of the century on sunday - or should i say two games. With the 18 inning epic catapulting the 'stros into the NLCS for the 2nd straight year, I'm left scrambling to line up my mlb.tv and internet options for the start of the series tomorrow. Could only be more excited if I was in Houston. Go 'stros

Thom Brennaman gets down wit it; another bike stolen

I have moved into my new apartment, and with internet set up, I'm watching the Astros-Cubs game with unbelievable excitement and anticipation. The game's being shown on Fox in the states, but I'm able to get it with mlb.tv, a service provided by MLB in association with ESPN, live and streamed through the internet.

I guess there's some disagreement about advertising, b/c I haven't seen any commercials yet. What I'm seeing instead is the broadcast booth feed. I don't really know who's calling the shots, but the entire commercial break consisted of zoom-ins on hot girls in the stands. I'm not joking - it was pretty unprofessional, but funny nonetheless. sometimes they'd zoom back and forth, rapidly, like 12 year olds playing with mom's digital camcorder. Then, the booth is preparing the tape on Clemens for the next half inning, and you hear Thom Brennaman saying "Alright that's good. Stop it right there." But he keeps talking. "Yeah right there. Alright. A'it. Aaaa-iiit!!!" Like he's pretending to be black or something. Really weird stuff....

My life was changed yesterday, but it didn't last very long. Orla (my host for the first month I was here) gave me one of her old bikes that she didn't need anymore. It was brown and the paint was peeling, but it was a bike. I was thrilled, and after a little bit of oil, more air in the tires, and some tightening of the screws, I was off and riding. With the wind whipping through my mane, I rode all the way to El Corte Ingles, an hour's walk and definitely longer on the bus than the 10 minute bike ride. I felt liberated; I was suddenly able to go anywhere, do anything. What a day.

Then, I locked my bike up outside with a chain. When I woke up this morning, it was gone. Fourth bike stolen in the last 5 years. I have yet to have a bike longer than 2 months before it gets stolen. I felt like a part of me has been taken. And yet, the fault is almost all mine. I'm pretty sure I looped the lock over the top of the seat, allowing the thief to simply lift the lock up over the seat and hit paydirt. I feel like such an idiot...

Eliminate place-kicking; the Spanish way of doing business

I remembered why I stopped going to espn.com when doing research for this entry. First, it takes me about 15 clicks of the back button of the browser before I find what I'm looking for b/c I keep getting distracted by interesting stories. Second, though, is because it really is the Yankees-Red Sox network. That's all they wanna talk about - who's gonna win the AL MVP - Big Papi or A-Rod (including a breakdown on who has the cooler nickname), who's gonna win the AL East race, blah blah blah. I know they cover those two teams b/c "that's where the fans/interest is" but I think it's self-fulfilling. The more they cover Yankees-Red Sox, the more those fans'll watch and the less I will. Hell, I didn't even know there was a tie in the AL East race...*

Alan Ashby is hoping to become the next full-time play-by-play guy for the Astros when Milo Hamilton semi-retires next year. I like Alan (from extensive personal interactions) but the guy makes a must-win pennant-race thriller sound like a Double-A Spring Training game. He's not terrible as the former-player-turned-color-guy, except in the innings after he does play-by-play (4th and 7th) when he still thinks he's 'the man' and tries to interrupt Milo for some fun fact that is largely unneccessary. [ed. note: I used 7 different hyphenated phrases in this paragraph] He's smart, which is a rare thing for a former player turned broadcaster, but he ends every sentence with a raised intonation. It just sounds lame - kinda like I did when I tried to call the Dartmouth baseball games last spring. But at least no one paid me. Or listened to it.

I had another extended interaction with the Spanish way of doing business today. After going to bed after the Astros game last night at 5:30, waking up at 8:30 to go over to my future apartment, waking up the girl that lives there, and waiting for 3 hours for the cable guy, I found out that the owner of the complex didn't want ONO (the internet company) to install a cable in his apartment. Even after the cable guy told him it wouldn't be more than a cable, he still said no.

So the cable guy left. We eventually talked him into it (apparently he thought he had to get a 4'x4' box installed and pay for it, even though the cable guy told him he wouldn't), and I've rescheduled the cable guy for tomorrow. This of course, is just the end of the story; I already tried to get internet, was told I couldn't get it on my street, then told by a different girl I could get it, then told I couldn't get it without a bank account, then told I couldn't get it on my street again, then finally was scheduled for the appointment today.

I hate Skip Bayless and think he's a terrible human being. But this article about eliminating kickers from football is great. A little mean at the beginning, but i like his style and what he has to say.

Excerpt: Giant, gifted men battle their guts out playing a violent game, and the outcome is all too often decided by some former soccer player who has absolutely nothing to do with football. No football talent. No football heart. No football mind.

Eliminate Kickers
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=bayless/050929




* technically not true, but I was proving a point