8-24-08 12:40 pm

Journal entry nummer zwei

 The night I first arrived I was too afraid to plug in my computer (even with a $40 dollar adapter set from the Mac store and with Macs being the world's most versatile computer, I was convinced that even plugging in a power cord with nothing attached to it would still start Europe's largest electrical fire) so I went straight to sleep.  I slept for 12 hours, woke up at 9:00 am and....Laura (roomie) and her mom arrived at 9:30!  Yay native English speakers!  We went to eat at a Chinese restaurant that was, I'm happy to say, the worst food I've had since I've been here (let me explain).  And it wasn't even bad, which should be a hint at the posts and pictures to come that will be fully devoted to meals that I've had (I take pictures of my food like an anxious mother takes pictures of her new born child).  The rest of that day was spent wandering up and down Donaufelderstrasse (my street) looking for a place that sold stuff we needed AND took Visa, which was difficult to find.  

One of our primary goals was to find Laura a cellphone that costed less than her immortal soul, so we ended up in this little hole in the wall cell phone place that was also an internet cafe.  Initially, our conversation with the salesmen was tedious because they didn't speak English well and our German was even worse.  Then one of the guys let the word "despues" slip and I was like "Spanish??  Can I turn this on now?"  So I, with my piecemeal knowledge of the Spanish language, proceeded to engage in a sales deal with this guy, translating best I could to Laura and Dyan as we went.  Spanish in Germany.  I wasn't expecting that.  A conversation that should have lasted five minutes ended up lasting about forty-five.  I told him that I was grateful for how patient he was with me and that I needed to practice my spanish.  He said that I should come back and talk to him every once in a while.  I asked his name: Karim.  He had called the cell phone from his phone after putting  it together to see if the card worked and was confused when I told him that the phone was for my friend, not for me.

"So you don't have a number now?" he asked.  

"No, I don't have a phone yet," I replied.

"But she has my number," he nodded to Laura and smiled.

"Yes.  Yes she does."

I have failed to mention that this was the second request for my phone number since I had arrived and this was only my second day.  Murat had also written down his number on the steering while  for me while weaving through highway traffic at stomach-churning speed the day before .  No one has spontaneously asked me for my phone number in a very very VERY long time (or maybe never).  I can't quite figure out if it's just because guys are nicer here or trying to take advantage of American girls.  Either way, it was an experience at least.  And Laura got a phone.  To tell you the truth I was just surprised at the fact that I was able to speak to this guy for so long and understand about %90 of what he was saying.  You mean four years of Spanish in school actually payed off?  No way...It was really encouraging.   

After collecting several other odds and ends that we needed and taking them back to the room it was already time for dinner.  We ended up at a quaint little Italian place just down the road.  The waiter showed us to our table, half bent over in a bow with arm extended with "bitteshön, bitteshön"  falling out of his mouth with every step he took.  He was very nice and got our orders quickly.  He failed to mention, though, that the measurement of the pizzas was based on a scale established in Reno, Nevada.  These were the "Biggest Little" pizzas I've ever seen in my life, but also the BEST pizza I've ever tasted.  Laura got a cheese, Dyan got a mushroom, and I got a spinach pizza with spinach, bacon, salami, tomatoes, and...a sunny-side up egg??  Both the presence and deliciousness of this unlikely additive surprised me.  Tastiness.  

While we were waiting for the check at the end of the meal Cindy Lauper came on the radio  and I began to wiggle a little, which turned into full blown getting down in my seat.  Laura and Dyan were laughing at me, but I didn't care.  It was so happy to be there.  I was in Europe eating delicious food with my friends and listening to awesome music and if the mood so moved me, I was going to dance, darnit.  In my frenzied jig I failed to notice immediately that there was a man about two tables down dancing with me, or mocking me.  I couldn't quite tell which.  Whateva.  We were having fun.  A few minutes later he shouted over to me "Speak English?" 

"Yes," I replied.

"Now I understand," he announced.

I laughed.  Am I so obviously an American?  I guess the answer to that answer is "duh."  He asked where I was from, so I said USA, Texas.

"Texas, ja?  Bush?"

I started waiving my arms like an umpire calling "safe" and shaking my head frantically to try and show as ardently as possible that I wasn't a supporter.  I think he and his friend got the message.  Then they said something about California and referred to Schwehrzneggah...I could not understand, but should have used context clues.  

"Arnold Schwarzenegger is a very good man," the other man at the table said.  Oh.  So that's how you REALLY pronounce it.  "Schwartzinayger" sounded so stupid after the way this guy pronounced Arnold's last name.  We agreed that he was indeed a good guy.  (I like his movies, I guess.  Especially Kindergarten Cop.  I didn't mention this part, though).  Then the guy who had been dancing with me chimed in to correct his friend's English and said, "Arnold Schwarznegger is a very good woman."  Needless to say, Laura, Dyan, and I busted a gut at this comment and so did the guys, apparently knowing what they had said.  We were able to pack up the half of the pizzas that we were unable to finish to take home, which I was surprised about.  Doggie bags are kind of taboo, seen as gluttonous, or just non existent in Europe.  But I was not about to leave that pizza behind, even if I had to sacrifice my reputation at this restaurant as the American fatty who can't dance.  But having gotten the opportunity to take it home, I was very grateful.  Then we went down the street in order to further legitimize that reputation as we purchased copious amounts of gelato.  It was a good day.  Pictures later.