Night is upon us!

I wake up in the dark.

I walk Maxie in the near-dark.

Soon I will go to work in the dark.

I come home in the near-dark.

Soon I will come home in the dark.

All I hear about these days is how dark it is outside, as if it surprises us every single year. As fall is fully upon us and winter approaches, darkness gets to become just as fun to talk about as the weather.

"Did'ya get that? It's pretty cold and dark, eh?"

The worst part of it all is that I get sucked into it, too. It's probably got something to do with my propensity for bitching about the weather.

But gawsh, it's dark!

Mother Nature, I have two choices for you: either bring summer back, or bring on Christmas so I can start drinking Glühwein at the Weihnachtsmarkt with the Mädels!

Thank you.

Homeless, A Miniseries: Heimat Edition

So, I was walking the pup yesterday when I got to thinking about how the weather sucks here (hey, it's fall), but that those suckers "back home" already have had a snowstorm.

See, the whole "back home" thing is embedded in an expat's vocabulary, and I'm sure some expats really do think of the place they came from as "home", possibly with the desire to go back there some day.

Try as I might, I've been trying to reprogram my internal monologue to say "Canada" or "Alberta", but it's not entirely easy, and I catch myself slipping up pretty much all the time.

The reason I try so hard to avoid saying "back home" (even in my head), is that I don't really feel like Sleepy Suburb is my home anymore. It was a place, to mostly everyone's chagrin, that I would loudly talk about leaving one day, never to return. I never really liked living there in the first place, never really fitting in. Still, Sleepy Suburb is where I grew up, and there's still a pull inside me that says "This is where you're from". That being said, it's not my home, and I don't like to think of it as such. It's not where I long to go back to, and I don't get any sort of belonging feeling from being there or thinking about being there.

Aside from the presence of Tim Horton's, my family and bestie, going back to Canada on vacation also isn't "going home" per se. I'd be just as happy if those things were in the States, Mexico or China.

What I'm trying to say is that the place holds no meaning for me anymore. (Emphasis on anymore... I'll get to that sometime.)

That being said, I still don't feel "at home" where I live right now. Sure, I live here, but it's not my home, coming with all the warm feelings generated by that word.

It creates awkward conversations when Krauts ask me where I'm from, and act totally surprised when they find out I'm not dying to go back, and I don't really have any plans to go home. Ever. And then to try to explain to these Heimat-lovers that I doubt if I even have a Heimat? Does. Not. Compute.

Anyhoo, I started this blog in an attempt to come to terms with what it means to be an expatriate, and to hopefully share that information with people either from "back home" (see, there it is again!) or those who are experiencing something similar. Now, I mostly write about the weather and jerk Krauts, which I suppose is part of the whole expat-experience on a daily grind sort of level. With this mini-series, I'm going to try to look at the big picture and figure out for myself -- with all of you watching me do it -- why I feel homeless in the first place.

Some things I hope to consider in the coming weeks include:

• How much control do I have over choosing a home, and how much does a home choose me?
• How have some of the places I've lived and called home affected my notion of Heimat?
• How does my hybridity (à la Homi Bhabha) and fact I moved abroad in my early twenties affect me in my search for Heimat?
• Can I have a Heimat? And even more importantly, do I want one?

So, yeah. Have fun with my ramblings. I hope that what I'm trying to do here will be more clear after my first official post on this thing.

If you're normally stopping by to read my stories about jerk Krauts and not mind-numbingly dull soul searching, have no fear. There will be plenty of that woven through. I could never give that up!

My Ears Hurt

Every so often, I have the chance to channel my inner housewife again despite the fact I'm no longer anything like that.

Despite the fact I am now a busy bee in the public sphere and have less time to make my cuddle-atmosphere in the private one, I still like home-y sorts of things.

Except vacuuming.

I've always hated it. It's loud, hurts my ears, and I hate dragging a freeking canister around my flat, plugging and unplugging as I go.

In order to avoid my life-long hatred of vacuuming, I got a Roomba when I lived in Canada. I was quite happy about the fact I could turn it on while I took Maxie for a walk in the morning, thus killing two birds with one stone. No vacuuming on my part, and no Maxie howling at the vacuum cleaner. I tried to take the fact Roomba would always end up locking himself in my bathroom with a grain of salt.

Seeing that Roombas are much too expensive for a student budget in Germany (and why in the world would I tote along a transformer to charge my Canadian one here?), I had to get something new.

So, I got myself what seemed like a decent vacuum: the Ergorapido. Now, it may seem like the perfect thing ever. It's lightweight, has no bag (hate emptying them almost as much as I hate trying to remember to buy them) and no cord, which theoretically meant I would finally enjoy cleaning my floors. It also had excellent reviews and a good rating from the Stiftung Warentest.

I mean, in theory it wasn't bad. It was lightweight and easy to clean, but the whole "mit perfeckter Staubaufnahme" (read: perfect at collecting dust for the non-Krauts of you) is an f-ing joke. Ignoring the fact -- for just one second -- it wouldn't pick up dust or dog hair from my parquet floors, imagine my disgust at trying to vacuum carpets with that thing.

A friend who looked after Max earlier on this year even expressed her disdain at the fact you had to go over the same spot about a gazillion times to get it halfway clean, which kinda "defeats the point".

Agreed.

Needless to say, I tried -- and failed -- multiple times in the last two months to vacuum with that piece of garbage, and finally gave up. I couldn't even stand my flat anymore.

So, I went to Real to get a new vacuum. It's a Dirt Devil, half the price of the Ergo, and sounds like a plane about to take off. It also has crappy ratings for having a difficult filter to clean.

BUT it cleaned my floors.

I probably will try to avoid vacuuming with a vengeance as has been my style for the past twenty-odd years, but at least the dog hair is finally out of the carpet.

Okay, I'm off. Time to start my non-housewife-y day now.

What does your mail say about you?

Okay, wacky topic, but maybe I'm disillusioned (or paranoid) enough after seeing my fair share of postal workers deliver my mail to my door in person (usually in combination with a package). Rifle through the different pieces of mail, raise eyebrows, and hand the mail to me with a smirk.

I'm probably just paranoid. The response probably has less to do with my mail and more with the fact I usually answer the door in my pyjamas and have a howling dog on the other side of the door who happens to hate doorbells more than anything else in the world.

I mean, it's obvious that anyone's browsing history would give away some embarrassing secrets about habits and interests. (I, for one, have been recently recommended to watch "flying dachshunds" on YouTube, FWIW.)

I guess my mail, though, would probably give a fair look into my life, albeit excepting the hints to my ridiculous YouTube watching habits.

So, I invite you to sort through my mail with me! Yay!

• Bank statements: I apparently do not keep my money hidden under my mattress.
• Letters from the Canadian Government: Ausländerin.
• Der Spiegel: I am an Ausländerin who can read German at a fairly reasonable level. (Note the lack of a Deutsch Perfekt abo in my mailbox.)
• Lotta and Clara: I'm a socialist, and most likely a feminist, to boot. (*oh the horror!!*)
• The American Historical Review: I am a historian (or trying to be). I am also apparently bilingual since I can read academic texts in English and the Spiegel in German. Since I'm also a Canuck, the jury's out on joual, but I guess you all know the real answer to that one.
• Paperwork from my local Stadtwerke: I either subscribe to electricity or gas, which means I probably don't live in the dark. (You may think this is trivial, but you try living by candlelight!)
• Paperwork from Uni Köln: STUDENT ALERT! I must really be struggling to pay my energy bills! Still, combining this paperwork with my AHR subscription, chances are good I study history.
• And, of course, various other bills that point to my student status.

See? Sorting through mail is fun! It's also horrifyingly revealing about me as a person.

So, there you have it. I'm a bilingual foreigner from Canada studying History in Germany who happens to be a socialist and a feminist. I also do my best to pay my bills. It can also be assumed I do so, since I haven't included bill collectors in my mail-list. All this information is open to the random who delivers my mail.

It seems the only thing my mailman doesn't know about me is that I watch ridiculous dachshund videos on YouTube. Or watch the Season 6 promo of Gossip Girl OVER AND OVER. T-minus three days, yoop!

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly: Hiking

So, about a week ago, I was in Allgäu with the 'rents and my puppy.

Unsure of what to do on a Friday night, it was decided that we would all do an evening hike of a smaller mountain! Yay!

Why such a small mountain, you ask?

Well, to the chagrin of M., I always show up in Allgäu in non-hiking-appropriate footwear. You know, like the leather shoes that everyone runs around in over on my side of the country. To M.'s triple-chagrin, both of my travelling companions were in even less hiking-suitable footwear than me. (Read: Sandals and newer leather walking shoes.)

Therefore, we chose to hike a smaller mountain of around 200 metres or so.

And thus, I present to you an Allgäu hiking edition of "The Good, The Bad, The Ugly"!

GOOD:

• My dog cannot only hike mountains, he's f-ing amazing at it. Perhaps he didn't really tire because he's so low to the ground and thus doesn't notice he's going up a steep slope. More likely, he's just a tank and can handle jagged rocks like one of those mountain-running champions. My lovely trooper, I've never seen anything like that before in my life... I wish I had pictures of a Dackel manouvering jagged rocks triple the size of him like a champ.
• I used to hike a lot when I was 18. You know, backpacking, camping and that sort of thing. A nice combination of my asthma getting worse and a nasty break-up led to the fact I haven't done ANY hiking since then. Despite the fact I had to take my inhaler every five feet not because I was out of breath in the "I can't do this" way, but because my asthma is about a quadrillion times worse than it was a decade ago, I am very impressed at the fact doing nothing can still allow my legs to go, go go!

BAD:

• Lots of nice dairy products come from Allgäu. This unfortunately means there are lots of cows in the mountains. I mean, I get this is an Allgäu thing, but I am used to hiking in the Rockies in silence, save a few animal growls in the distance, bear bells tinkling from passers-by, or people singing in the absence of bear bells. The whole "klang-klang" was not necessarily terrible, just a little off-putting.
• Of course, going up a steep trail in leather shoes is fine. I've worn those puppies in! BUT: Going up a steep trail of jagged rocks covered in mud in leather shoes without grips on the bottom is not really fine. So, what do I do? Pretend I'm a yeti and take off my shoes. Yeah, that's right. Barefoot up the mountain!

UGLY:

• As awesome as it was going barefoot up the mountain, going barefoot down jagged rocks while having a Max-who-just-couldn't-get-enough on the other end of the leash pulling me down was not included in my definition of a fun evening hike. Pray, what is better? Sliding down a mountain because of non-grippy shoes, or slicing your feet up? No worries, I did both!

Guess who's bringing their decade-old hiking boots on their next trip to Allgäu??

Life in the Rainforest

Blame Canada!

No, blame me!!

No matter where I am, that's where there's a guarantee of crappy weather! Don't believe me? Germany's last heat wave was when I was sitting through the non-summer in Calgary a few years back. By non-summer, I mean I still had my seat warmer on in August. Winter last year was unseasonably cold. No matter, though -- as soon as I took off to Canada, Cologne warmed right up and I headed into an abyss of -50. Now, Canada's got a heatwave, and I live in a rain forest.

I don't actually mind the rain. I mean, sure, I would prefer to see some summer before the rain starts in the fall. Oh... wait, never mind. But this isn't about how I hate the unpredictability/extremeness of weather.

Welcome to how I spend my days in the rain forest!

• The nice thing about summer is not having laundry pile up when you are waiting for the previous load to dry on the rack on the balcony. It's been five days, though, and everything is still damp out there. I may as well give up on that one...
• I took Maxie to the vet yesterday. As usual, he was not impressed at the notion of needles. I was not impressed by the fact it started pouring as we walked from the train stop to the vet (and only then was it raining, mind), so I got to lift a wet/dirty Maxie onto the cold metal table, and try to hold a wet/dirty Maxie in place while the vet poked around. Ironically enough, Maxie was so pissed off from the stethoscope, he didn't even notice when he got his booster shot. Until he spent the rest of the day crying and limping around like a wuss, that is. Nice.
• I don't believe in rain gear. I've lost my third umbrella, and I just give up. The cheap ones just turn inside out in the rain, and there's no way I'm spending 40 yoyos on an umbrella I'm liable to lose within a couple of months. It's this exact same reason I don't buy sunglasses that cost more the 7 yoyos. I've also twice tried out the concept of rain boots to avoid sock-changing before going out after walking Maxie, but they go bust so quickly, it's not even worth the money. Also, people get wet when they go in the shower. Why are we so against getting wet in the rain? Das war aber viel auf einmal!
• When I take Maxie out to go to the bathroom when it's raining, he will inevitably prance through the mud, and then stand in the grass with a confused expression on his face for an extreme amount of time rather than just doing his business. If I ask him what's taking him so long, he looks at me defiantly.
• I'm glad the water level went down the last couple weeks on the Rhein. I was starting to worry that it would flood out to the point I'd have to find a new walking-route for Maxie and me. It looks as if this may be once again a concern of mine, and I thought I was off the hook until September. Ha. Ha.
• Too much rain, too few thunderstorms.
• Nevertheless, rain is a good excuse for hot chocolate. Bring on the cocoa, baby!!

Hartz IV-Empfänger

Ahhh, the end of the semester!

I know it's not actually the end of the semester (I have way too much to do in the next three days for that), but today is officially the first day where my alarm clock went off, as usual, for Monday morning class and I got to grumble, "Heh, heh, FU."

Speaking of which, I should probably turn the clock off so I don't have the same thing next week when it actually is semester break.

Anyhoo, I like summer break for a lot of reasons. I mean... it's not actually a break, but it's still fun to change my sleep schedule from early-up and early-bed to medium-early-up and late-bed. Morning person as I am, I write best at night, which kind of cramps my Grandma-style-in-bed-by-9 thing I have going on during the semester. All that extra time also means I can twiddle my thumbs all day and not feel guilty about it, knowing I'll be working six to eight hours straight that evening. It also usually means trips to Finland (though that comes later this year), but does definitely mean a visit from my Momma!!

Here's a potpourri of why I like summer:

• Even when the weather's bad, it's not -20 and snowing.
• Crappy weather? No problem. I love walking in the rain, as long as it's not to class.
• The sun is still shining a long time, but not obnoxiously till 23:00.
• I get really productive because I can write nights.
• Even though I actually end up working more than during the semester, since rarely have anything jamming up my schedule, I can work when I want to, which is far more relaxing.
• Maxie is happy because I am with him almost every day.
• I am happy because I get Maxie snuggles most of the day almost every day.
• Ice cream
• Fruit is on sale at the supermarket. Nectarines 750g for 89c! Woowoo!!!

And, for good measure, why I like this summer in particular:

• I no longer live in the 'hood, so there aren't children running around screaming all night in the streets. This means I might actually get to write something, and who knows? Maybe I'll even be more productive!
• I may have to do that statistics course, but I'm also working on two books (authoring articles for both and editing for one), which makes me feel like one of those "productive" members of society that somehow lives with a purpose.
• My Mooma is coming! My Mooma is coming!
• You know the other reason. And therefore know why I'm not running around, publishing it on my blog. I made that mistake on Facebook already. Oh the horror!!

The only thing I don't really like about summer break is taking Maxie out to do his business in the mornings. When I'm up during the semester (sometime between 5:30 and 6:00), I feel like a normal (read: productive) member of society who is just taking their dog out to do their business in sweats before getting off to work to feed the tax machine. It's kind of embarrassing, though, going out with crazy hair and sweats at 7:00 in the morning while everyone is already on their way to work in their fancy cars.

Last year, I'm pretty sure the neighbourhood thought I was a Hartz IV recipient. (For my non-German friends, see here.) I mean, when I first moved in, I was gone reasonable hours that ensured I could have at least been going to some kind of part-time job. Summer, though? Ha. I was always around. And the neighbours always were staring when Maxie's morning business became a later and later event. (I lived in a village. This is what people do, amirite?)

I mean, I suppose I could argue they were the Hartz IV-Empfänger since they were spending the day watching and criticizing me.

But, whatevs.

New city, new neighbours to think I'm a lazy git on Hartz IV.

I wish... I'd be living the high life compared to this. (Minus the random and impulsive trips across the globe, of course. It'd suck to give those up.)

Happy summer break, friends! (Yeah, not yet, but you all know how I like jumping the gun...)

My Dog is a Jerkface

Sometimes I really think my dog is an asshole.

Maybe this is not an appropriate thing to say about one's dog. I mean, I love Maxie to bits, but some days I just want to kill him.

You see, my puppy is (typically) very predictable. He likes to wake up somewhere between 6:30 and 7:00 to have breakfast and go to the bathroom, and if that's too early for me, he's normally content to go right back to sleep after the fact. I'm an early bird anyway, so it doesn't really matter except when I have a late night and going to bed at 2:00 doesn't change his internal wake-up time.

But today, by golly, I was ready to strangle him.

First, he gets up at 5:00. I'm sorry, what? After being generally annoying and whining to get out of bed, I fed him, took him out, and carried him back to bed with me. Then he woke me up again at 6:30. And again at 7:00. In a last-ditch attempt to get some sleep, I let him off the bed. He then proceeded to kangaroo-jump at me to get my attention.

It was officially the worst night (errrm... morning) I've had with him since he was a baby and would freak out the entire night because he had to go pee every three hours.

In true asshole fashion, he is now sleeping on my lap while I still struggle to wake myself up with copious amounts of coffee.

I wonder if it has something to do with the fact it's actually sunny today, and I don't have rollos to shield the sun from view. There may be truth to this, considering Maxie is normally happy to sleep forever if it's dark...

*************************

Dear Maxie,

I love you, but today you're annoying me.

Love,
Mommy

October 2, 2011

Hei! Minä olen 2-vuotias. -.-

So, today, as proper two-year-olds should, I’m learning my colours!

Yay!!

So far, I’m focusing on white, black, red and brown. White and black, well, since they’re staple colours (let’s not get into the argument of whether or not they are colours or shades, please), and brown because the Finnish word seems easy enough to learn. The word for red kept staring me in the face on its red background, so I figured I may as well learn it, too.

Maybe later today I will add on something crazy like blue or yellow, but for now, I’m trying to keep it all in my head. Mostly by reminding Maxie that he is black and brown. He still seems to be about as partial to Finnish as the first time I came home from Finland in ‘09 and started following him around asking “MITÄ?!” in that crazy baby-voice E. and T. use on Alma (Alma on kissa. ^^)
I’ll make him like it, damn it!!

Anyhoo, my four words of the day are: valkoinen, musta, punainen ja ruskea. (white, black, red and brown)

Yay!

(Oh, and for funsies, I’ll throw in, “Minulla on koira.” You know why? Because I already learned ”Minun koira on Max!” Ha.)

**And I’ll bet you really don’t care about any of this…**

September 30, 2011

Sometimes I find myself kicking and screaming, telling myself I want more than what I’ve got in Germany. This sentiment has recently been strengthened after talking with S. over a couple of Kölsch last night about our respective vacations (mine in Finland, hers in Brazil) and agreeing that it’d be cool to just live where we want, work to make just enough for food/shelter, and research on our own.

Then, every so often, something will make me feel at home. Kind of like seeing this view every day on my walks with Maxie.

And then I just get even more discombobulated about the whole thing.

Just a thought...

If my dog wants his... errr.. morning wood to go away, he should probably stop licking/pleasuring himself. He should know that's really counterproductive.

AND GOOD MORNING TO YOU....!!

Today is shaping up to be a busy day! I leave for France tomorrow, and today will be a busy day filled with Russian lessons, shopping, and doing some last-minute running around. And packing. Oh, and a little bit of homework I neglected to do yesterday because I felt like I got hit by a bus. Fun, eh?

So ist das Leben...

Weird Food Tastes in Dogs

I love my Maxie to bits. But he's such a weirdo. He not only likes typical human food like steak and chicken, but also lettuce, peas, carrots, apples and oranges. If I'm eating a salad, he goes crazy. Even crazier than for meat. Yes, I know I got a weird one, but I love him anyway. In the spirit of dogs eating people food, I decided to upload a video of Maxie eating peanut butter. I admit it, the first time I gave it to him, it was to shut him up because he was being yappy. Unfortunately, like everything else he can stick in his mouth, he loves it. I was making PBJ the other day, and there he was, begging. So I decided to record his fun with the peanut butter.... Enjoy!!!

Oh, and by the way, the crazy music in the background that sounds like it belongs on a porn video is the theme from Numb3rs. I promise I didn't add questionable-sounding music to the video just to creep you out.. :-)

Rain, Rain, Go Away

So, if anyone is having a particularly happy day that would be spoiled by a whole lot of complaining, maybe reading today's post isn't the brightest idea..

That being said, what gives?!

Where should I even start? How about with the weather? The weather is one of those stupid small-talk topics that people always complain about, right? Now, don't get me wrong -- I'm happy there's no such thing as a proper winter in Germany. Should I have to endure another Canadian winter ever again, know that I probably won't make it. You'll probably find me frozen onto the side of some tree muttering in German like a crazy person. Or something. So, as happy as I am that the winters here at their worst hit about -15c, I could do without the constant cloud cover and threat of rain. And I thought the migraines I got in Calgary because of the Chinooks were bad! Ha! It's a good day in Germany when I'm not in bed, clutching at my skull and begging for death. Besides, Maxie hates the rain. He won't go for walks in it. And when he's not going for walks, he's hyperactive. And THAT is annoying. Migraines + Bouncing Maxie = Anger. And who said I wasn't any good at math?

And in other news, I hate online classes. Okay, I'm lying a little. They're awesome because you can show up in pyjamas and fluffy socks to do your schoolwork. Oh, wait. I did that when I went to face-to-face classes, too. Never mind about the pyjamas then. Because not only do group projects in a real university suck; they suck online, too. They're even worse. Just imagine trying to co-ordinate slackers that are stationed across the globe who could care less about some history requirement. And then, there's me. History major, trying NOT to fail a stupid group project because some people have no respect for deadlines or capitalizing letters. There have been so many days this past week where I've wanted to throw my computer at the wall. And to be fair, my computer didn't do anything. If anything, my MacBook rules (chipping unibody aside). 

And then there's Maxie. As if he's not hyper enough, he had to lick up a bunch of coffee grinds that I'd spilled on the floor. I was just grabbing a broom and dustpan to clean up when, BAM!, my mess had disappeared. I probably wouldn't be too worried if it weren't for the fact my dog is hyperactive on his laziest of days. Shoot.

Did you honestly think I was done complaining? Ha. No, I'm not finished yet. I still have a paper I have to write on Hemingway's "The Sun Also Rises," which I had decided was the worst book in history before it was even assigned for my Literary Criticism class. But I'm writing on it instead of my other options because I was too lazy (errr.. I mean busy) to read a new 600-page novel and write a stupid paper on it. And, finals next week, too. If only that meant a break for me. Unfortunately, it only means that in two weeks, my next semester starts...

One year.. just one more year. 

Oh, who am I kidding? In just one more year I'll find something new to complain about!

Bah. 

I apologize if you actually read through that, by the way. That must've been painful...

Maxie and Other Random Musings

Literally, he eats anything we put in his bowl: toast crusts, lettuce, tomatoes, and even (as we discovered today) raw rice. Seriously, dog, what gives? Some of his favourites are pickles and oranges. I've got no problem giving him oranges, except for the fact I've got to pick them up after he digests them. You know what I mean... Here, he is eating some zucchini that was a couple of days from hitting the garbage.

In other news, my spring semester is finally close to being finished. I'm pretty much sick of writing essays criticizing literature that I don't care about. I'd rather write about some drastic historical event any day. I just have to keep reminding myself -- two more weeks.. just two more weeks. 

Also, I'm flying to Finland in June to visit a friend of mine. We met while we were both working in Cologne. She's one of the loveliest girls in the world, and I'm excited to see her and finally meet her boyfriend.

That's all for now...