Keeping Time: The One with the Cast from Night Bus

Something I found very strange upon my arrival in Europe was the vast amount of people who wear watches. Everyone wears a watch! Old, young, cool, nerd-- in some way, shape or form, everyone wears a time piece on their wrist. I found this a bit odd--in America watches are only for Grandpa's and Hipsters. Why is that? I asked myself. Don't they have cell phones? yes. Does this mean they are always on time? no. Three months and some change later, I figured out why: Public Transportation.

In the last couple of weeks, I have spent more time in Munich after hours than ever before. Munich past mid-night is my favorite time to see the city. I have recently taken up exploring every part of it by foot. It's been really fun--despite an instance or two with the police-- and it's nice to be able to spend some quiet time away from everyone in the city. After most people go to sleep, Munich becomes like a small village. The English Gartens are empty, and at certain points it actually feels like your walking through a big forest. I'm really starting to love it. However, there's only one problem. The last U-Bahn leaves at 1:15am. After that, the night bus runs every hour.. from city center at :36 past exactly. And so my story begins.

The night bus is quite an interesting place. It's a normal sized metro bus, with places to sit and stand, but the thing that's different, is every weekend it is full of many characters. You have you quiet old lady that no one knows why she knitting on the bus at 4 am, your business man in a suit on his way to work, your quiet, nerd-like type reading, and then, of course, many drunk German youth speaking super loudly, lovers and haters, of all types of colors. You have you drunk crying emotional girl, Wastey-Pants who is passed out, angry drunk who wants to fight the bus driver, Mr. Friendly who chats you up the whole time-- everyone. It's quite fun to watch. Especially when Mr. Friendly is so drunk he doesn't realize he's chatting up Wastey-Pants, who is in fact, passed out. Meanwhile, old lady is just sitting in the back seemingly oblivious to the time and ambiance, and Business suit is just trying to avoid being thrown up on. It's a definitely a scene to see.

Now, those of you who have spent more than.. well.. five minutes with me.. know that following directions, finding places, and anything involving destinations are not exactly my strong suit. As stated, I know that the bus leaves from Odeonsplatz at 2:36, and again at 3:36. Thanks to my Europeans assimilation, my watch keeps me UTD on the time, and there should be no problem right? WRONG. In the last three weeks, I have managed not once, but twice, to end up on the exact opposite side of town in the wee hours of the morning. How does this happen? Straight up skills. I will give you one example.

Last week after a lovely walk through Munich with this European Dreamboat, I took the 2:36 night bus to Kieferngarten--a direct line, and my stop is the last one. Not easy to miss. I said good-bye to my friend, and in kind of a daze, jumped on the bus. Enjoying the show and still fading in and out of my daze, I wasn't really paying attention to where we were going. They are calling out the stops, and none of them seem familiar. No big deal, I thought, I don't have these stops memorized... so I'm probably just tired. Twenty minutes later.. I look around. I am no where familiar. I ask someone. Sure enough, I'm on the wrong bus. I get off the bus at the next stop. What do I do? My phone is dead. I have no money, no idea where I am. And it's now 3am. Thank goodness there is a U-Bahn station nearby. I cross my fingers. Forty minutes. In forty minutes comes the next train. So I sit down. There is an old lady knitting (I'm not even kidding). Forty minutes later, I catch my first U-Bahn, which takes me to the next U-Bahn, twenty minutes later that one leaves, and I arrive in Münchener Freiheit, fairly close to my house, and a big hub for college students. Sweet, I think. There's a Mc Donalds there.. they take debit cards! The next U-Bahn leaves in thirty minutes, so I got lots of time. Smiling, I'm so happy to have something warm to drink. I walk the block to McDonalds, see those golden arches, go to open the door and bam. It's closed from 5-6am. It is now 5:08. I wanted to cry. So I go to my train, sit, and wait. This drunk guy starts talking to me, and it turns out he did the same thing as me.. only 30 minutes later! We commiserate the entire ride home (he lived close to me). At 6:10 am, I finally get home.

So? straight up skills.

Germans and the Weather

How many times have you heard something along the lines of, "seriously, he was as dull as a rock! All we could talk about was the weather!" If you're anything like me, than many. Here's the thing. In America, talking about the weather carries a certain cliche. It's something we consider "small talk", maybe a "safe subject" that you talk about when literally there are no other options. Let me tell you. In Europe, it's totally different. At any given time, 95% of every European knows the weather forecast in at least three different cities. Not only that, but it's an important topic of conversation. This weekend, I learned why.

Since last weekend was such a hit, we decided to have another picnic/BBQ. This time we chose a nice spot along the Isar River. Everyone brought stuff to grill, and we met up and got the fire roastin'. Now, before I left, my host dad did his usual weather-update before I leave. He lets me know the temperature for the week, and what exactly I should be expecting. As I left yesterday, he warned me it was going probably going to rain. I looked outside. It was a perfect 65 degree day. The birds were chirping. Children were playing. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Rain? psh. I thought. He was wrong once before. And then I left, in my dirndl and flip-flops, ignoring his important advice.

We arrived to a beautiful spring day. There were many people outside and lots of others BBQing. We spread out blankets and food and start cookin'.

Literally, all of a sudden, these creepy dark clouds roll in. We knew we were in for trouble. The first drops start to fall. "It will blow over", says Walter. Two minutes later, the skies are open and are letting us have it. It is pouring so hard. Some run for shelter. Others, myself included, look up and give thanks.

Despite our best efforts. We are thoroughly soaked. But it really wasn't that bad. And then it began to hail. Not just like little hail, but big, hard, chunks of white bullet hail. It really wasn't that pleasant.

        Eric was kind enough to lend Sammy his dry, "E-RAGS" shirt.

Not knowing what to do, we pack up, and head to Walter's house. Now. Walter has brought a BBQ. That begs the question: How does one travel with a BBQ using public transport?
My question was answered: Teamwork.

And honestly, the weirdest thing was, I don't think this is out of the ordinary. Oh you know, just another day with me and my BBQ on the U-Bahn.

Moral of the story is: Next time Bernhard tells me the weather forecast, I think I'll listen.

Nanny Problems: Lessons about kids and the word "urgent"

Now, I'm 24 year old. I not old, but I'm not exactly young. It's been awhile since my mom picked out my outfit, tied my shoes, did my laundry or changed my diaper. I've known for some time how to use the toilet, and haven't gone in my pants for at least a week! I don't mean to brag or nothing, but I can tell when I need to use the bathroom about thirty to fourty-five minutes before I actually have to go. I guess this is one of those things you forget to appreciate as you get older, because life was not always so easy.

Here's the thing with kids. When they say they have to go to the bathroom, they mean, they have to go to the bathroom. Right now. Right then. EMERGENCY. Doesn't matter who you're with, doesn't matter where you have to be. When they gotta go, they gotta go.

As previously mentioned, everyday Filippo and I journey the thirty minute ride to his ice-skating with the u-bahn. We leave from school, where there is a bathroom, and go straight there, where there is also a bathroom. There are, however, no bathrooms on the u-bahn, and no bathrooms on the seven minute walk from the u-bahn station to Olympic Park.

For the third time today, along our journey, Filippo stops me and says, "Mimi, I have to go." and I ask him, "Can you hold it?" and he says, "No." I calmly explain to him that we are only a three minute walk from a bathroom, if he could just wait until then, he could use the toilet. With the most frantic look on his face, he starts to cry. "Mimi, I don't want to go in my pants!", he wailed. I asked him, "Filippo, if you had to go so badly, why didn't you tell me sooner? Remember last time? You have to tell me before you're going go in your pants so I can find a toilet." He starts to cry harder. "I have to go right now!" Not knowing what to do, I look around me. I ask myself: What would Tracy Jordan do? There's no bush, no fence, no mason jars. Just cars, and one thin tree. I mean, the kid doesn't want to pee his pants. Frankly, I don't want him to pee his pants either... That'd be so gross. So, having exhausted all other options, I give him the nod, and, in the middle barrier of the Auto Bahn, he runs behind the thin tree, drops his pants, and let it all loose.

Crisis averted.

Spring time, for.....Merkel.. and Germany!

Ah spring is finally here! What a unique experience it is watching the shift from frozen winter to brisk sunny spring. People are popping up out of no where, tents are being set up on the streets, and the general population seems to be spending as much time outdoors as possible. I'm not saying for sure, but I think I actually saw a German smile yesterday.

My friends and I decided to take advantage of the 70 degree weather we had on Saturday and have a picnic in the Englisher Garten. The Englisher Garten is pretty cool place. It's kind of like how I imagine Central Park is, minus the gang-bangers and crackheads. There are miles of green belt, intertwined with bike and horse paths, weaving throughout a beautiful thin-treed forest. The Isar River runs along the side, somethings through, and people really enjoy this.

There's the north and south side of the river. In the south, people get really into the European Vibe and get into their Birthday Suit and splash around. And by people, I mean middle-aged to elderly fat German men. While drinking a beer. And smoking. Let's just say--I try to avoid this area at all costs.

Along with my Au-Pair friends, I also hang out with a group of people from ToyTown, an online forum for English-speaking people living in Munich. That's another blog post on it's own. Surprisingly, I was the only American in smaller group I was hanging out with. And nobody let me forget that. Everybody loves to hate on Americans. I have a question though. If America is so terrible, why does this Dutch guy have our flag on his T-Shirt?

Psh. I think they just hate us because they want to be us. And they know that. Dutch people in particular love to hate on Americans... and there were four of them in our group yesterday. I think I heard every stereotype ever. And I couldn't send a rebuttal back.. which made it even worse. Whatever. I'm sorry your country isn't significant enough to have stereotypes about. OH NO SHE DIDN'T!!

Anyway, we ate food, played frisbee, and laughed about life. It was a really lovely day!

Reverse Racism

That's right. I'm reverse racist for the Swiss. I don't even know where to begin. I guess I'll start with this.
I'm 100% convinced that partying awesomely is taught in Swiss Schools. Every night (or day for that matter) that I spend with Swiss people ends up going down in history. The best part is? Swiss boys are the most respectful, polite, and hilarious group of gentlemen in the world. Matter of fact.

Before Saturday, the majority of my interactions had been with one group of Swiss boys who I met traveling this summer with Liz. One learned English in England and has a British accent. One learned English in America and has an American accent. One learned English in Scotland and has a Scottish accent. Therefore, I had never been properly introduced to the pot of gold that is a Swiss boy speaking English with a Swiss (from the German speaking part) accent. The best way to describe it is this: an educated hill-billy with the smallest tinge of a German accent... in a hott way. It's like Brad Pitt's character from Snatch. Except you can understand them... and they are all very well-educated. It's something every woman needs to experience first hand.

But honestly that's not even the best part. The best part is, somewhere in the universe, the Swiss were told that American Girls were prude. That's right. We are known to the Swiss as being very friendly, but exceptionally prude. Apparently with all the confusion from the four national languages of that country, they don't have time to bother with watching American movies. I mean honestly, they are so respectful, it's not like they'd hit on a girl anyway, but really, can you say greatest stereotype ever?

In June, I'm going to a weekend-long music festival in Switzerland. Wait a minute. You're telling me I get to go to Switzerland, spend a weekend camping in the middle of a beautiful forest, see famous bands play, and surrounded by 30,000 something Swiss people? um hello. June, come sooner please.

Just Another Friday in München

I don't know if I have touched on the lameness of Munich's night life, but until two weeks ago, I basically found it non-existent. I was seriously concerned at how I was going to live in Europe for a year and have no discos to go to. I mean, how was I going to practice my German?? But really, thank goodness, I discovered the best place ever. Situated right next to Ostbahnhof, it is a street with club after club after club, and outside, my favorite: Kebabs.

This weekend, we started out as normal, at Hofbrauhaus. In the recent weeks we've discovered it is the best place to meet people, we hang out with them, then take them clubbing. This weekend Sammy and I really wanted to practice our German... so we were determined to meet a group of German speaking boys. We went to Hofbrauhaus, found a table full of ten German boys, and invited ourselves to sit down. We had no idea what the rest of the night had in store for us.

We really had a fun time. They spoke English (well, all for one.. who actually I'm not even sure spoke German... but that's another story) but decided it would be good for us not to speak English the entire night. And the stuck to that. They patiently explained everything we didn't understand, and taught us some funny sayings. My personal favorite: "Warum?" (why) "DARUM." (it means like because, but not just because, its a conversation ender. Something a parents says to a child, or a man says to a woman). Also, "macht dir keine sorgen" (Don't worry about it).

I wish I could blog about how the night ended... but hey, I have to get a job some day. Let's just say I finally came home to Filippo having breakfast. He looked at me with wide eyes and asked, "what are you doing?".. "GOING TO SLEEP!" I responded.

And that was just Friday night.