Lost in lyrical translation

A couple of days ago Thomas and I booked our first event in Munich. Shortly after we arrive next month, we'll be attending the Fantastischen Vier (a famous German hip hop group) concert here:

Olympiahalle in Munich

Fanta 4 (for short)  has been around since the early 1990s and still has a strong following. I fell in love with their music several years ago (pre-Thomas) when a German friend started playing the song Troy on a road trip to Mexico. Even though I had no idea what the lyrics meant, I found myself rocking out to it and hopelessly trying to sing along.

I started to like German hip hop so much that I went out and bought tons of songs from other German artists like Fettes Brot, Glashaus, Celina and Esther & Sepalot. And the list goes on. In fact, right now I'm camped out on the empty living room floor, ghetto blasting some Fünf Sterne Deluxe on my iPhone.

Back then, it didn't matter that I had no idea what they were singing about. Unlike my favorite English songs, the lyrics didn't matter one bit. I just picked songs based on how they sounded. That is, of course, until I came across this hilarious Dutch commercial for language training (note: totally NSFW). Yeah, that was the day I decided to start learning German.

Apartment camping

dining table / computer desk / extra moving box

It's day three of apartment camping. Our 1,000 sq. foot apartment is currently "furnished" with:

• a half-inflated air mattress (which I doubt will last long knowing my cats) 
• an empty moving box for a table 
• two cat litter boxes for chairs
• and a few throw pillows

Classy, I know.

I don't even have a real computer anymore. Just a 7-inch tablet PC with a bi-polar keyboard and mouse.

It's sort of like real camping...but without delicious BBQs, toasted marshmallows and inviting campfires. Well, I could try the campfire, but I doubt the smoke alarm would appreciate that. Plus, I'm pretty sure there's a "no open flames" clause in our rental lease.

We even have some of the "wonders" of nature right here in our empty, temperature-controlled abode. I caught a few spiders and other creepy-crawlies before we moved out our stuff, but now they've returned with reinforcements...and their extended families. Awesome.

That old phrase "there's no place like home" just lost a bit of its charm...

Moving day...well, sort of

Our sparsely "decorated" bedroom

I say "sort of" because today is moving day for everything in our apartment, except Thomas, me and the cats.

It takes about 5 to 7 weeks to ship a household to Germany. We were hoping the movers could come on Monday, but a scheduling problem actually bumped us up in their waiting list. Normally, earlier is better. But not when you haven't even started packing. So, we spent the last two nights (somewhat frantically) packing almost everything we own into 4.5 cubic foot boxes. We didn't get to bed last night until after 2 a.m. OK, so technically Thomas didn't get to bed until after  2 a.m. I passed out on a pile of blankets and half-folded clothes around midnight.

Packing the past couple of nights felt like a never-ending task. But to our surprise, when we documented our belongings for the moving company, we realized just how little we actually have. Granted, we sold several things over the weekend, but still, typing "0" after "0" into the company's standard list of furniture, appliances and household goods (some of which we questioned the usefulness of; who the heck needs a special vegetable bin?), conjured up mixed emotions for us. I was happy we didn't have that much stuff, having less meant we'd be easier to move. Thomas' response was a little different. "That's all we've accumulated these past five years," he asked incredulously.

Having less - or being more agile, as I like to say - does have its downside. Each piece of furniture or appliance we sold will likely cost four times as much to buy new in Germany (especially given the current strength of the euro against the dollar: currently about 1.40 to 1)...a costly fact we've resigned ourselves to.

So, the movers arrived this afternoon to wrap up and move out everything, leaving us in an empty apartment for the next five weeks.

I already miss having a bedroom dresser and hangers. What few clothes I didn't send away are crumpled up in laundry bins in the nearly-bare closet. Good thing I kept the iron...

Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz

Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz. No, that’s not the result of my head banging on the keyboard after a frustrating German study session. Although, given the complexity of the language, that would be an entirely plausible explanation.

 Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz literally means “beef labeling supervision duty assignment law.” (Thanks to Wikipedia for this letter-laden gem.) If there’s one thing Germans like more than rules and regulations, it might be compound nouns.

Compound nouns are formed by squishing several words together as one … the linguistic equivalent to a stretch limousine.

 After all, why waste time hitting the space bar key … or breathing during conversation?

This penchant for efficiency also guarantees German children a competitive edge in the Name the Longest Word game.

A moving company maze

Finding a moving company is like navigating this WI corn maze.

After spending the better part of yesterday evening researching international moving companies, we whittled our finalists down to five. Our selections process was simple. 

Step 1: Draw a company name out of the virtual internet hat.

Step 2: Find online reviews of the company.

Step 3: Look up the company’s Better Business Bureau (BBB) rating.

Step 4: If we were still on the fence, we’d critique the company’s website. That might sound a bit strange, but we figured that if a company’s website looks like a fifth grader set it up in the mid-nineties, it probably won’t have the resources to provide a smooth moving experience.

I started putting the company information in a Word document, but my engineering husband hijacked the computer and re-compiled the data into a “much more efficient” spreadsheet. I hate spreadsheets almost as much I hated calculating planetary brightness and flux density in college, so I happily sat back on the couch and let him do his thing.

Today, I started calling the companies for estimates. But I didn’t open the spreadsheet, yet.

A doctor's note

A wake-up call instead of a house call

I, like many people this time of year, have been under the weather off and on for the past couple of weeks. So, while off work on a sick day, I did what any normal person with extra time and unfettered access to the internet does, I researched my symptoms. After a couple of terrifying hours spent analyzing those symptoms … and talking myself into a few new ones, I decided to drag my usually stubborn self out of the apartment to seek professional medical attention. Sorry internet.

What does this have to do with my impending move to Germany, you ask? I’m getting there. I’m sick. Don’t rush me.

After numerous questions and standard tests, my doctor concluded I had bronchitis. Twenty minutes, and a weird hookah-like treatment  later, he changed his mind. It was a common cold … or maybe pneumonia. So off to x-ray I went. 

An hour later, he decided it absolutely, surely might be allergies. So he wanted to set up an appointment with the allergy clinic. Problem was that there were no open appointments until late November. As in, I’ll-be-in-Germany-by-then-late-November. 

Suddenly my move became real. Sure, Thomas and I have been making preparations for a couple of weeks now. But, just like when you jolt awake from an intense dream, I was struck with the very real fact that in about six weeks, I’d being saying good-bye to friends, family, Madison and my English-speaking life.

And speaking of, well, speaking … When I told my doctor why I wouldn’t be able to make the allergy appointment, he replied, “Oh, sind Sie eine Deutsche? Nein? Also, dann müssen Sie sehr gut Duetsch sprechen, ja?” Trying to fake confidence, but feeling my body temperature elevate and my pulse quicken, I simply nodded … resolutely of course. Satisfied that I was sufficiently fluent, he then rattled off a short quasi-soliloquy in German, which I really hope didn’t directly relate to my health as I had no idea what the hell he just said. 

If only he could write a doctor’s note excusing me from learning the difference between Passiv and Zustandpassiv verb constructions. I’m pretty sure they’re bad for my overall mental well-being. But I guess I’ll just need to hit the books hard soon. But first, back to bed …

Finding that "just right" airline-approved cat carrier

Since we’re moving to Germany with cats, I’ve had to do a lot of research on flying with pets. There’s also a lot of paperwork, vaccinations and specific microchipping rules, but that’s another post.

Some airlines won’t let fly pets in the cargo hold during peak summer and winter months, as the area is not adequately temperature controlled. And most vets strongly discourage the use of tranquilizers (and some airlines forbid it) as the mixture of drugs and changes in air pressure could be fatal for your furry friend.

Depending on the size of the pet, there are two flight options: accompanied cargo and in-cabin (a third option is to ship Fido or Fluffy separately (AKA “unaccompanied”), but I don’t know much about that).

Specific travel requirements may vary, so it’s best to call the airline fist. But here’s what we were told for our Chicago-Munich Lufthansa  flight.

Accompanied Cargo 

Cargo carriers, like the ones we ordered must:

• Meet IATA regulations.
• Be hard-shelled and held together with bolts (not plastic flaps).
• Be tall enough for the animal to stand, with a few inches to spare.
• Have an attachable water bowl and plenty of bedding for comfort and to help soak up…accidents.

In-cabin

You’re allowed one pet per passenger. But airlines often limit the total number of in-cabin pets to just a few. It seems the best way to book a flight with a pet, whether in cargo or under the seat, is to call the airline directly and mention the number of animals you need to transport and how. This typically costs a bit more than booking online. But you reduce the the risk of being turned away when you get to the airport.

Under-the-seat carriers must:

• Be no larger than 55cm x 40cm x 20cm.
• Weigh less than 8 kg (pet and carrier combined).

On a personal note, I’m a little nervous about travelling with my cat Momo in-cabin (Thomas calls him the Red Devil). He’s a loud meower…something Thomas says is karma catching up with me for all the times I complained about crying kids on flights. Plus he’s a skilled carrier destroyer.  But we got a Teafco Argo carrier as a wedding gift from friends last year, and so far he’s only managed to snag the wire mesh. We’ll see how it holds up after the 9-hour flight. Lufthansa also supplies carriers, maybe I should get one as a backup…

Playing "clerk's pet"

Neighbors disagree about the proper location for dogs to relieve themselves

If I can stereotype here a little…Germans love rules, which is good because they have a lot. For example, there’s actually something called Ruhezeit (quiet time) where it’s forbidden hammer nails, mow the lawn or engage in other noise making activities. Although, sometimes I wish we had that here…especially when my apartment neighbor decides to serve tennis balls to our shared wall as I’m getting ready for bed.

I’ve apparently inherited this favorable disposition toward regulation from my family lineage. In fact, more than once, Thomas has told me that I take rules too seriously. Take this past Friday as an example. In preparation for our move, we had to complete several bureaucratic matters.

To get ready, I poured over the related government websites, ensuring I had all of the proper documentation. And in each case, I got “petted” (as Thomas would say) by the officiating clerk for following directions.

First we went to the Register of Deeds to request a few extra copies of our marriage certificate. You have to show ID (like your driver’s license) to verify your current address, but if it isn’t up-to-date, you can bring in a utility bill and another form of ID. So I did. Once I presented all of my information, the clerk thanked me for reading their website, adding that no ever does that. And when I told her I requesting the copies as I was moving out of the country she said she “really hoped” I would come back to Wisconsin. Wow. And who says government workers aren’t friendly? ;)

Next was the Secretary of State. I needed an apostil for our marriage certificate so I could later attain a residence permit in Germany. I laid out all of my information and documentation just as before. The clerk was very receptive, but I failed in one task: the envelope. I had brought in a stamped, self-addressed envelope, but it wasn’t large enough. My bureaucratic euphoria visibly began to dissipate. The clerk took pity on me and gave me an envelope to address and even told me they’d take care of the postage. Whew!

The last stop was updating the title of our car at the DMV (I paid it off a few months ago, but put off getting a new title). When I got to the window, I stated my case and had a copy of my marriage license (showing my name change) and original purchase receipt for the mileage record. Again, the clerk was very pleasant and complemented my preparedness, something I ‘m pretty sure amounts to a soldier’s medal of honor on the battle field. There was only one moment of awkwardness. He was having computer problems, and I nervously remarked that it must be because I’m from Arizona (not sure why I was uneasy…maybe it was his biblical-themed tie with the words “Revelations” on it). He laughed and proceeded to talk about the immigration issues there. It quickly became apparent to me that we were clearly on different sides there. But I didn’t dare let that show. This man held the final badge in my bureaucratic sash. After what seemed like an eternity, but was more like four minutes, I had my new title. Success!

Now, if only I can be equally victorious once we’re in Germany!

From 0 to kitty-papa in an Augenblick

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, we love our furbabies.  Although for Thomas, saying “love” was no easy task for two reasons:

1. While emotions are international, the words we use to describe them vary across languages. Germans typically reserve the word “love” (liebe) for their significant others. Even parents don’t tell their children they “love” them. Instead, they say something like, “Ich habe euch lieb.” which is more like “I have love for you.” It might at first sound odd in English. But when you think about it, we do love people differently. Not more or less, just differently.
2. This is a big one: Thomas never had pets growing up. Like never, ever. Not even a hamster or sea monkeys. I, on the hand, grew up with representatives from each animal kingdom. The first time he woke up with a furry feline wrapped around his head was at my Arizona apartment. So imagine his surprise when he witnessed his first cat hairball. (“Umm…is it supposed to do that??”)

So while Thomas sometimes still hesitates at close-contact nuzzling, he’s come a long way. He scoops the litter box, cleans up hairballs, assists with medication and freely admits he “loves” them…even when they occasionally race across his face in the middle of the night or claw his legs as he’s getting into the shower.

Even his parents (who never allowed animals at home) have warmed up to them. The other day his mom asked how one was doing after a recent battle with a kidney infection.

I may be a crazy cat girl, but he married me. That makes him certifiable in my book. :)

U.S. electronics "bore" German outlets

Thomas and I spent part of the morning picking up each electronic device we own to see if it would work in Germany.

Aside from having different plug thingys (an easy fix with an adapter or DIY rewiring project), U.S. devices use 110 volts and German ones use 230. Thomas casually explained the difference to me like this, "German power outlets are bored with U.S.voltage." The best part was that he didn't even realize how funny this sounded...until I started laughing.

Our assessment: my crappy $14 hair dryer can come (it has a switch to change the voltage), but our $400 PlayStation 3 can't hang. That was costly shock my engineering husband wouldn't dismiss without a fight. Fortunately, some quick research via YouTube suggested a universal power supply might solve the problem.

But most of our electronics won't be so lucky...sorry awesome retro toaster. Looks like I'll be burning bread with someone...er, something else in a couple of months.