Work with Ernst & Young starts around 8:30 and ends about 18:00. If I go out to eat for lunch, I always go to ThaiTime across the street and order the spiciest thing on the menu. For instance, yeterday I ordered spicy tofu with spicy vegetables with extra spicy sauce. I ate it all. And it felt good.
My days are filled with filing, Excel spreadsheets, Mappe (folders), and large amounts of caffinated tea. For now anyway. The interns were givin a large assignment but we'll see where that goes.
After work on Tuesday I went to the Eschborn library. I was checking out "kids" books before but I've taken a step back. Some of them were more difficult than I realised so now, I check out books from the baby section. That's right, the small, square, cardboard kind that I could chew if I started teething again. So I'm starting from the very bottom, as a native, and working my way up. I couldn't find any eveing classes so this is the route I'm going. If it gets me to a level to where I can learn Swiss German, then I'm all for it.
I found a salsa club last night but it wasn't salsa night...it was ragaeton night. gah. So I left and was home by 23:00. fail. But I plan on going again tonight with my friend from Turkey. We have yet to get together but this might be our chance. Or I could just invite her out to Vegas. =D
Update for the fall: I've officially eliminated the American University of Beirut for the options. It would have been too expensive and they didn't have a program that I was really passionate about. I would have attended if they had Music as a major, not just a minor. I was having trouble deciding between Anthropology, Nursing, Archeology, and whatever else was in my head at the time. They sound like fun, but I think my calling is elsewhere.
For breakfast this morning I chopped some dried figs and mixed it with the Russian buckwheat honey. It made this really thick paste. I put some really fresh, hearty Bulgarian yogurt on top and whipped it together. That could have been one of the best yogurt breakfasts in the history of mandkind.
After a rough week in the office, I just want to go to Bulgaria. Swimsuit-check, camera-check, passport-check, Gloria Dumas-missing from my life.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Evening in the City
Life is exciting after work.
I found a Russian grocer's near the Zoo. With my luck, I got there six minutes after closing.That's okay though...more time to shop tomorrow!
The real excitement came when I went back to the Hbf. I decided to go back to the taxi area to look for the taxi driver who knows the other taxi driver who has my pillow. This has been an ongoing thing for me.
Since the first night I arrived, this one taxi driver has had my pillow. I put it in his cab, then we realised that my two gigantic wheelies, computer bag, Army backpack, and plastic bag would fit. We had to switch cabs, me on my own to tend to six pieces, not including myself. I had been counting my pieces all night; this was the first time I didn't have everything.
So after going to Fundestelle (Lost and Found) in Hbf (mainstation) once each week since I've been here and talking to all the cab drivers, I've finally put my foot down.
Today, I walked into that taxi parking lot demanding John, from Eretrea. He was my driver who told me he would hang onto it, even drive it back to my apartment for me. Yes, I waited up for him that night...
Cab drivers in general are kind of gritty. Not only are these guys gritty, they don't speak English. They think they do, but they don't.
One guy just tells me to walk around and look for him. So I did. Of course, gritty, non english speaking men were talking to me in German or who knows what language. Some of them I brushed off quite rudely because of their tone of voice (This is a red light district, you know).
I was frustrated. My contacts were dry. I had to use the toilette. The sun was in my eyes. It was all just really an uncomfortable encounter, so I took desperate measures. As gritty men congregated around me, one of them got John on the phone. I speak with him for a few lines, then the other Eritrean translates...gah.
While he is translating, I search my bag with determination for a pad of post-its and a pen.
"Well, I guess I'm just going to have to call your boss then." I scribble down the phone number and email address on the cabs. And the there was silence, like such never heard before in Germany. One man wet his pants, probably. I'm intimidating.
John should be leaving my pillow at Fundestelle.
"You really like that pillow, then?"
I walked to the sidewalk and this was my greeting, a German guy, about 24. Dirty blond. We chatted for a bit and I took my leave. No exchange of contacts even though I found out he's from Frankfurt; no exchange in names.
And that is how I almost had a date tonight.
But due to a serious cultural misunderstanding (I'm serious), neither one of us took that first step. Shame, huh?
I found a Russian grocer's near the Zoo. With my luck, I got there six minutes after closing.That's okay though...more time to shop tomorrow!
The real excitement came when I went back to the Hbf. I decided to go back to the taxi area to look for the taxi driver who knows the other taxi driver who has my pillow. This has been an ongoing thing for me.
Since the first night I arrived, this one taxi driver has had my pillow. I put it in his cab, then we realised that my two gigantic wheelies, computer bag, Army backpack, and plastic bag would fit. We had to switch cabs, me on my own to tend to six pieces, not including myself. I had been counting my pieces all night; this was the first time I didn't have everything.
So after going to Fundestelle (Lost and Found) in Hbf (mainstation) once each week since I've been here and talking to all the cab drivers, I've finally put my foot down.
Today, I walked into that taxi parking lot demanding John, from Eretrea. He was my driver who told me he would hang onto it, even drive it back to my apartment for me. Yes, I waited up for him that night...
Cab drivers in general are kind of gritty. Not only are these guys gritty, they don't speak English. They think they do, but they don't.
One guy just tells me to walk around and look for him. So I did. Of course, gritty, non english speaking men were talking to me in German or who knows what language. Some of them I brushed off quite rudely because of their tone of voice (This is a red light district, you know).
I was frustrated. My contacts were dry. I had to use the toilette. The sun was in my eyes. It was all just really an uncomfortable encounter, so I took desperate measures. As gritty men congregated around me, one of them got John on the phone. I speak with him for a few lines, then the other Eritrean translates...gah.
While he is translating, I search my bag with determination for a pad of post-its and a pen.
"Well, I guess I'm just going to have to call your boss then." I scribble down the phone number and email address on the cabs. And the there was silence, like such never heard before in Germany. One man wet his pants, probably. I'm intimidating.
John should be leaving my pillow at Fundestelle.
"You really like that pillow, then?"
I walked to the sidewalk and this was my greeting, a German guy, about 24. Dirty blond. We chatted for a bit and I took my leave. No exchange of contacts even though I found out he's from Frankfurt; no exchange in names.
And that is how I almost had a date tonight.
But due to a serious cultural misunderstanding (I'm serious), neither one of us took that first step. Shame, huh?
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