Hey, Molly Murphy, I gotta question for ya!

So, there are some perils of working on a base with approximately 4,000 people, most of whom know just enough German to be dangerous. Oh, I should also mention that what I'm about to share deals directly with the fact that I do, in fact, wear my last name stitched prominently on my uniform, just like everybody else, right? Okay, so that having being said, here's something that I just can't get enough of being asked these days: "Heyyyy, do you know what your last name means?" Or, alternatively, "So, you really ARE from the woods, heh heh heh! Do you get it?" Yes, I GET IT people! I DO know what my last name means! IT MEANS THAT I HAVE A RIDICULOUSLY EASY-TO-TRANLATE-FROM GERMAN LAST NAME! Can we move on, already? Please? Oh, good GRIEF!

Translation gone bad

Okay, I've got another case of translation gone bad courtesy of German radio. I've now been moved into even more temporary temporary housing...it's just one big hierarchy of stairwell living for me these days. I think I may have found an apartment, but it won't be available for a few weeks, so I had to move into the real bachelor officers' quarters. What does that mean? No tv, no carpets, no nothing. So, I'm probably going to break down buy a 220 volt radio. Luckily, though, I've been able to borrow one for the time being, thus making it possible for me to provide you with the following German radio gem, sung in english. My friends, the chorus goes like this, ballad-style: "Why don't we just breaaaaaaak up. I mean let's breeeeeeeak up. I never liked your style, ANY-waaaaaaay." This makes M.'s vote for the worst lyrics ever, LFO's "Summer Girl" sound like an absolute MASTERPIECE. (In case you're drawing a blank, "Summer Girl" included the classic line, "I like to wear Abercrombie & Fitch, Chinese food makes me sick".) Well, at least it rhymes I guess! Anyway, if you know how to get in touch with the Grammy Awards committee, give me a call...this is killing me!

Got Techno?

One of the great joys of driving in Germany is aaaahhh....German radio. Yes, my friends, if you'd ever wondered what your favorite American tune would sound like when overlayed with a pulsing techno beat, well, look no further! Simply come on over, I'll take you out for a drive, and I promise, it's only a matter of time until you can hear almost any of your American favorites remade into something far more exciting than their original incarnations! No more pesky worries about hearing songs that you can't dance to! M. and I have begun affectionately referring to the ubiquitous technique of song reformulation as "germanizing", as in, "Hey, is that the germanized version of 'Three Times a Lady?' I cannot get enough of that song!" I mean, there's rarely a song that isn't improved by adding a techno beat, right? Fortunately, one of our favorite techno-improved songs on the radio is also one of the most overplayed these days. Remember the 80's tune "Break My Stride"? Oh yeah: it's ba-aaack! In case you need a refresher, the chorus goes something like this: "Ain't nobody gonna break-a my stride, ain't nobody gonna slooow me down, Oh no! I got to keep on movin'..." Sounding familiar? Now, who didn't love that when it came out? I know I did! But here's what we realized when listening to the germanized version: previous to hearing this version, neither M. nor I had any idea what the actual verses to the song were. Chorus? Familiar. Verses? Not so much. Hmm. Now, this hadn't exactly been keeping me awake at night, but still: we're now reeeeally familiar! And I love this so much, and find it so hysterical, that I can't resist sharing. So, here we go: in the german version, the first verse goes something like this: "Last night I had the strangest dream...." (Okay, I'll admit it: that line does kind of ring a bell.) Then it continues, "I sailed away to Chi-na, in a little row-boat to find-ya, and you said you had to get your laundry cleeeeeean." (Sing along now, you know you know the tune!) "Said you don't want nobody to hold-ya, What does that mean? And you said, ain't nobody gonna break-a my stride, ain't nobody gonna sloooow me down...." Remember that? Yeah, that's good stuff! This song comes on, oh, probably 5 times an hour, and every single time it's hysterical: I sailed away to China? You said you had to get your laundry clean? What? Oh good grief! If only I could figure out how to put an audio link on this web page...

Cr...er, well, stuff.

One of the things that you notice around here right away is how short the days are. Really, truly, I think these are some of the shortest winter days I've ever seen. Yeah, it gets dark around 5:15 P.M.: pretty standard for this time of year in the northern hemisphere, right? But the kicker is that the sun isn't coming up until sometime after 8:00. What's up with that? And so begins my neverending quest to figure out just WHY this is. And that quest has led me finally to the internet. At first I thought, it might be that we're tucked onto a hillside, in a dense forest. And that may be it. But then I thought, there could be a much more sophisticated answer...hmm...what could that be? AHA, latitude, my friends! Lo and behold, I needed something to compare it to, and so I chose lovely Rapid City, SD, of course for comparison. Which brings me to the fun fact of the day: the latitude for Rapid City is measured at the RC Regional Airport, and do you know what the rest of the aviation world refers to Regional as? That's right, our official designator is KRAP. Nice. As though I don't get enough, you know, well, teasing about South Dakota as it is...

Molly Murphy schlägt den Autobahn!

Oh yeah: watch out Deutschland! Molly Murphy hits the autobahn! Or at least I've got permission to do so. It took a mere eight hours to complete the process today (and you thought the American DMV was bureaucracy central!), but, even though it took an entire day, I am now the proud recipient of a brand, spankin'-new drivers license! Now, if only I had some idea where my car is...

Christmas bells are riiiiiiiing-ing!

So, like you may have read in the previous post, the big birthday odometer clicked over for me on Friday! Fortunately, I had some time to do some proper celebrating this past weekend. A few weeks ago, I bravely asserted that M. is smarter than I am. Luckily, my assessment does indeed hold water: he successfully passed the USAEUR drivers license last week: whoo hoo! (Now I just need to do the same, but I digress.) M. works in a small, pastoral town about 15 minutes south of Wurzburg, which we have discovered is roughly a 60 minute drive across to Frankfurt/Darmstadt. Brand-new drivers license in hand, he drove to Darmstadt on Friday evening, and we wheedled our way around town, finally settling on an Italian restaurant in Eberstadt (a suburb) for my birthday dinner. What was really fun about this whole escapade was that the Italian waiter spoke very little german, and no english, so we were having to translate things from italian into german and then into something resembling broken english. I must say, the whole situation definitely went a long way to alleviating any pressure either of us might have otherwise felt to use grammatically correct Deutsch! Our waiter was really nice, and somehow, despite all of the gesturing and language difficulties, made my birthday dinner a good one.

On Saturday, we drove to Wurzburg to the Weinachtsmarkt (Christmas market) to shop and to take in a little Gluhwein....mmmm: it's all the boiling hot alcoholic goodness you can ask for and it fits conveniently into one little mug, perfect for drinking while standing outside in the cold with everyone else in the early-December night! Later on Saturday evening, we continued on to Giebelstadt, where M. is staying. It's an adorable little town, so small that despite only being a 15 minute drive from Wurzburg, noone that we asked for directions was able to tell us where it was! Somehow, we managed to get there anyway. He'd been telling me about how cute the town is, and how the gasthaus (guesthouse) that the Army has put him up in temporarily is directly across from the town church, which is also really cute, yadda yadda yadda. Okay, let me also preface the following by saying that M. is, quite possibly, the most good-natured person that I, have met thus far in my short life. Nothing bothers him. I mean it. Like, nothing. Having said that, I can also tell you the following anecdote. So, we get to his temporary lodging in the gasthaus, and there it is, directly outside the window, the cutest, quaintest church you've ever seen. So I say, "Hey! You're right that's adooooooorable!" At which point he shoots me the most withering look that I've ever seen him muster up. He then explains, with as much restraint as possible, that he has discovered the following since he offered up his initial assesment of the church. What's that, you ask? Ahem. Aforementioned cuuuuuute Bavarian church comes equipped duh duh daaaaaaah.... an equally adorable belltower. What's the problem with that, you ask? Oh, yes! The functioning bell. M. broke it down for me like this: at a quarter after the hour, he explains, it goes: boooong. Okay, not so bad. Then what? Well, at half past, it goes Boong boong. 45 minutes after the hour? You guessed it: Boong boooong booooooooooooooooong. And for the grand finale every hour? That's right: every hour, on the hour the belltower goes crazy Boooooong-ing and BOOOONG-ING and BOOOOOOOOOOONG-ING! Fortunately for the sake of my funny bone, I actually got to hear this in person, and see M.'s decidedly less-than-charmed reaction to it MORE than once, and let me tell you, I can vouch for the fact that this whole scenario does, in fact, go on four times and hour, every hour, TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY! All I can say is: Poor M.! He's been living there for a week, so every time the formerly ADOOOOORABLE bell rings, his whole body tenses up, he shuts his eyes REAAAAAAAALLY tight (as though THAT'S going to block the horrendous noise!) and I think that he'd even admit to shuddering just a little bit. His reaction to it, given how charming he initially thought this was, just makes the whole, ridiculous scene even funnier. And yet, he hasn't complained yet. Get this guy some water torture! The bell's not working, people! Not surprisingly, the very next day, he found a new apartment. In a different village. Far, FAAAAAAAAR away from the clanging of this very, very chaaarming part of Giebelstadt village life!

The big birthday odometer

Well, it just keeps on clickin'. What's that you say? Why, the big birthday odometer, that is!

Electric Boogaloo

I must say, it's all of the little adventures that are making the move to a new country a pretty interesting experience. Like watching Monday night football, for instance. At 6:00 AM. On Tuesday. Or playing a chicken-like game with your 110 volt appliances and a whole array of outlet adaptors. I've got a virtual adaptor museum going on in my hotel room, and I've actually started keeping a tally of all of the electrical appliances that I've broken since I've been here. So far, I've just deep-sixed my hairdryer and the diffuser. I know, I know. That's what I get for being too cheap to go out and just buy new 220 V appliances. Argh. If only there were a Wal-Mart where I could buy new ones...