Burglary Of The Mushrooms

Heidelberg

2010-06-04T23:12:00.003+02:00

The EU Bacon Fiasco

2010-05-30T13:46:00.009+02:00

Two days ago in my Berlin grocery store, I was flustered to find my usual brand of bacon was AWOL. It's not exactly bacon as we know it in the U.S., but it's pretty close.

Chagrined, I peered closer. A different brand was there. The package advertised itself as "Bacon, English style":

Woo hoo, I thought. Our cousins across the pond must have bequeathed to us Americans our bacon inheritance. I'm in luck!

Flash forward to this morning. Here I am, 10 minutes later, waiting for this "English bacon" to turn brown on the edges and a deeper red/brown in the middle.

Eventually I gave up and ate it.

It tasted like ham. Not bacon.

At first, I thought I should entitle this post "England, your pigs are weird."

Then I realized that the English, though they might very well have weird bacon, may not be responsible for this batch.

I took a closer gander at the package:

I know this may not be definitive proof, but this looks to me like prima facie evidence of Germans seeking to imitate Anglo bacon. Especially if producers are wary of British cows after the mad cow thing several years ago.

This is not my first run-in with German meat issues.

When I first got to Berlin two years ago, I didn't have my kitchenware yet, so I headed off to a quasi-steakhouse called "Maredo."

I have since learned that Maredo is an omnipresent chain with dubious quality beef, and thus rarely a place to find a decent steak. But Maredo did teach me something useful.

Hoping to get one medium rare, I asked my waiter what the word for "rare" is, auf Deutsch.

Response: "Englisch."

Which, as you can see, speaks volumes about the inclination of everywhere Continental but France and Belgium (and arguably Spain and Italy) to disrespect a filet or ribeye. (Yes, I imagine there are fantastic German chefs in Berlin who know what to do with your filet mignon, but I'll bet three digits of euros that you'll have to pay for the privilege.)

So resign yourself to your Wurst and Schnitzel.

There is hope, however. Berlin does have an American-owned burger/steak joint that gets fantastic American beef. That would be "The Bird" Cafe, up in Prenzlauer Berg, with some of the funniest, most irreverent menus you've seen (not for the easily offended).

I'm just happy you can profit from my travails as an American carnivore.

bacon
European bacon
European beef

Hotels and their towels

2010-05-28T20:36:00.003+02:00

You know how every hotel these days has their ecological bathroom sign? The one that tells you that washing hundreds of towels every day with detergent is hell on waterways and the environment, such that if you don't want them to wash your towels, you should hang them up to signal further use?

Trying not to be too environmentally unconscious, I've been hanging them up for years.

Without exception, in every hotel in every country I visit, I've always found new, washed towels sitting nicely on the bar or shelf when I come back later that same day.

Maybe it's too expensive to train the staff to read the sign?

Ulm

2010-03-24T21:41:00.003+01:00

Or rather, the cathedral. Detours to Dachau kept me from doing the charge up the stairs to the top. But it's worth a stop, even if you lodge yourself in horrible traffic on the Autobahn afterwards and find yourself looking for hotels that closed well before 10 PM. ;-)

Dachau

2010-03-22T20:47:00.003+01:00

Heading out of Munich last year, we indulged a whim. Perhaps not the wisest whim, one day after the libations of Oktoberfest, but always an educational, if draining experience. Dachau is not far away, and visiting it some 30 years ago seared itself into my memory. It needs no introduction - what information you need is a Google search, Amazon order, or trip to the library away - so here you are.

Munich

2010-03-06T14:21:00.006+01:00

Continuing on down the road from last year, we made the obligatory pilgrimage to the largest Oktoberfest I know of. The heck with taking photos of a giant amusement park with liter tankards worthy of serious arm curls, and non-Bavarian women in tourist dirndls that are way too shiny for any credible folk tradition. I thought it better to stick with a few more impressive sites and atmospheres:

First, the famous Neues Rathaus:

And, if you are there at 11 AM or 12 PM sharp, you are treated to the Glockenspiel, where courtiers dance, heralds trumpet, some foolish kids get hitched in bonds of holy matrimony, and...

...one hapless Don Quixote takes his daily thumping from some other passing hooligan on a drive-by:

Around the corner, you can stop off for lunch at a certain Hofbräuhaus...

...where a band in traditional dress uncorks the tunes in the room where the Nazis of the early 1920s used to drink and hatch putsch ideas. Eh, whatever, the food's pretty good, and so is the beer.

And the atmosphere is frankly far better on a clear October day when you're on the outside terrace.

OK, if you really must have a picture of Oktoberfest, here you are. It really is a 2.5 kg curl for the arm. Who says the drinking hordes are lazy?

Next Oktoberfest when I get back to Germany, I'm headed to a smaller town with less amusement park and more Deutsch in it.

Wanderings: Eisenach and the Wartburg

2010-03-05T21:24:00.003+01:00

Yes, he was born in Eisenbach and employed for a time at the Georgenkirche just above. ;-)

Eisenach's other adopted favorite son wrote a lot of things on this desk in the Wartburg castle. In hiding.

That's right, Martin Luther.

Eisenach Wartburg

Recent wanderings: Dresden

2009-10-25T09:21:00.004+01:00

Gorgeous interior, now that the old Frauenkirche is restored, only you can't take pictures in there, as with so many older buildings in Germany:

kein Kommentar

2009-10-24T16:24:00.002+02:00

Courtesy of a well-known brewery in Eisenach (not exactly open on Sunday morning, but what brewery is, in Germany?):

Scenes from a Banat highway

2009-08-22T13:47:00.003+02:00

This one in a small town in the Banat region of Romania caught me by surprise...

Right there below the traffic light is a municipal warning not to give to beggars.

I'm equally surprised that no beggar has reached up to scratch out the negative "Nu."

Just in case you were tempted to ignore traffic rules like everyone else and drive on the newly poured asphalt, they have come up with a creative way to keep you off the long stretch of newly paved road:

As always, there are nice views to end your day in the Banat:

Shocked in St Germain

2009-06-21T18:12:00.006+02:00

Today we dip into the irreverent and off-color. I do this strictly because I am compelled to warn Romanians and my fellow românofili about the dangers that may take them by surprise on an April evening's romantic promenadă in Paris.

For those of you who don't know Romanian, the essential background you need is this work-safe word definition and this not-so-work-safe-but-more-accurate-in-connotation definition. You click on the latter at your own socially embarrassing risk.

For those of you who like to grasp the sounds of foreign words, it's a plural word pronounced, roughly, "bootch."

Now that you are properly edified, you can imagine what might happen when a Romanian of more gentlemanly upbringing takes a wrong turn in search of a nice dinner or dessert in the St Germain district:

Buci, everywhere you look.

Then again, this may appeal to some parts of the tourist population, who will be sorely disappointed that most of these establishments appear to be quite respectable.

I have no idea what the French city planners and owners of these establishments had in mind, but I tend not to ask that sort of question.

When your ad goes astray...

2009-05-21T20:47:00.005+02:00

After she marketed this photo across the world (and I cannot but agree with the accompanying review), I have only one remaining question:

How can Berliners speed this up?

The suitcase prophylactic

2009-05-03T09:52:00.012+02:00

In this blog's running Department of Things That Make You Go 'Hmm...', Romanian airport technology has taken another giant leap forward.

First, our friends at Otopeni, excuse me, Henri Coandă Airport built, well, an entirely new airport. That was several years ago, but I still get excited at seeing it every time I arrive, given wincing memories of the previous version. But I digress.

On the way out from Easter, I spotted a truly remarkable device that apparently required at least two local staff to operate:

Now, I understand full well that almost all airlines and airports have perfected ways to dent, claw, and eat your bags at least once every three years. I understand they select people with great care for the latter's specialized interest in rending things and throwing them ten feet into the airplane cargo hold, with bonus points for a satisfying thump, as they train for the next Iron Person competition.

Given this, what I cannot understand is why people buy expensive luggage. At all. It's. Going. To. Get. Destroyed. Get your discount suitcase, one that you are happy to feed to The Thing In The Airport Deep, and be done with it. You are not going to impress anyone for the 90% of the time that your luggage is completely out of your sight and everyone else's.

So, thanks in part to the overly accessorized market segment that deludes itself into believing that passersby care about the sleek lines and colors of other people's luggage, we now have our Romanian airport staff making sure your suitcase - the one that differs very little from everyone else's unless it's in Steal-Me-Red-or-Mauve - is encased in at least five layers of plastic on all dimensions. The wheels still poke out, by the way, and why not? It's mandatory that at least one not make it to your destination.

It's also supposed to make sure cretins and thieves don't find their way into your underwear, although one would hope common sense reminds you to keep your valuables in your carry-on. I'm sure the security guys love hacking through the Tolkien-worthy web of plastic when they spot something that needs investigating.

Yes, I can see a purpose in (a) making the airport some money and (b) using this to cover up your trekking backpack, the one with all the loose straps that the Conveyor Beast loves more than any other.

But Czech Airlines (CSA) has the answer to that. A simple plastic bag with a tie. Me, I buy a large duffel in which I can stuff the entire pack - and re-use that duffel over the decades.

Not reams of environmental insult per suitcase.

Romania Otopeni suitcase suitcase+protection airports airlines luggage luggage destruction

A walk in the park

2009-04-24T22:10:00.006+02:00

If you're pondering what to do between massive bouts of Easter gluttony, you know a bit about Bucharest, and you have a mild but futile urge to take back your health for an hour, your first instinct is to head to one of three parks: Tineretului, Cişmigiu, or Herăstrău.

We opted for the last. It has a bigger lake than Cişmigiu, more people at whom to gawk, and more cafes and restaurants to feed you.

The trouble is that, in keeping with newspaper reports of the latest real estate swindle involving the park, some developer always has to outdo his competitors, such that he goes and does something rash:

Ugh. They really are everywhere. Complete with the post-communist aesthetic of far too many Romanian architects!

Of course, there is always some injunction to be had in any park, and in Romania, a wag to take advantage of it:

Yes, it's the usual "Do not step on the grass!" sign. With the wag's helpful suggestion that one should smoke it instead.

Not far beyond, by the way, is a circle of large metal busts, celebrating all the "common Europe" visionaries of 1950 - not just Robert Schuman and Jean Monnet, but Konrad Adenauer and several others. It's a little eerie to have them peer inwards at you, surrounding you in a circle. What have YOU done for Europe lately, hmm?

Further up the path, one finds Mother Nature has a sense of humor, too:

Despite the president's earlier effort to take a bite out of the stray dog population when he was mayor, they are blissfully waging guerrilla warfare unhampered. See? Sex really is politics. Even a dog knows that.

Romania
Herastrau
Hard Rock Cafe

Easter, take 2

2009-04-21T20:43:00.006+02:00

Last weekend I made the pilgrimage to my in-laws, more or less expected when you're already in Europe and the Easter holiday is at least as important to Orthodox Romanians as Christmas.

Saturday night, after a few too many palince (and the best of the best, I might add, of a 2006 vintage from the northernmost county of Maramureş) we overcame our earlier weariness, hesitation, and my inclination to remain happily flopped down on a couch on much needed vacation, such that we headed off to Dealul Mitropoliei, the high seat of the Romanian Orthodox Church smack in the middle of Bucharest.

Furtive looks around us suggested a few of the natives might be more serious than we were:

On the other hand, a late dictator still gets the last laugh, what with an assist from his successors' blindness to kitsch in lighting up the godawful monstrosity that is about as high as Dealul Mitropoliei, and right next door. That's right, I give you Casa Poporului, excuse me, Casa Parlamentului:

Once you are on top of Dealul Mitropoliei, you are quickly joined by hundreds of your closest friends. With little else to do other than to be shoved and stepped on by people who are leaving well before the height of the service, and surely cursed by default, you study the nearby scenery:

Given all the effort put into beautifully decorating and probably blessing the egg, I felt comfortable that I would not need to strap on a Sigourney Weaver-approved flame thrower and finish it off once and for all. Indeed, you had to relax while being serenaded by this guy, who, unlike some of his provincial counterparts, could hold pitch while singing the service:

I tell you, that spiffy guy from the jandarmerie never once turned around to thank the singer. Fans these days...

Looking across the way, I noticed that the Patriarhia României has put its stamp on what used to be the real Casa Parlamentului, a nice old aristocratic building from the 19th century where the guards in 1996 gave up bothering to check me for ID the many times I sought to waylay nationalist politicians dodging my phone calls:

Yes, it was super bright up there, more than ever, thanks to all the TV cameramen bringing their klieg lights to make sure the service was romantic and mysterious in good Orthodox tradition.

On the other hand, the klieg lights didn't detract from the murals in the adjoining church...

...and they did add a certain, er, divine ambience to the tower on the main seat of the Patriarchate:

What's that? A hubbub, and a rustling? Is the crowd about to stampede?

Well, no, but there is something clearly afoot now that the singing priest has cloned himself a half dozen times:

By the way, the Church arranged for a special plane to retrieve the flame you see in that previous photo, straight from Jerusalem's Church of the Holy Sepulchre. That's the flame that everyone passed from candle to candle just as the head of the Romanian Orthodox Church, Daniel, offered a final prayer:

As soon as everyone guessed Daniel to have finished, they headed for the exits. Note the big screen (far left of the next photo) to help those downhill from the church courtyard.

Breezy night that it was, it made for significant difficulties keeping your share of the Jerusalem flame alight. Consequently, everyone was happy to renew your Easter joy all the way home by lending you a light, only without the usual lighter, because that would be cheating.

And I'm sure the activity in the next few pics had to be in criminal violation of numerous Metro and municipal codes, but who's going to tell the mass of believers they have to stub out their flame from Jerusalem?

And that, my friends, was a nice silent moment on the way home late at night, in the midst of Romania's biggest holiday.

P.S. Then again, our friend the curent at the Metro exits nailed all three of our candles on the way out, forcing us to hit up strangers on the street. I tell you, the curent has no respect for the divine. It is a force unto itself.

Easter Orthodox Easter Romania

Easter

2009-04-12T17:03:00.007+02:00

For all that Europeans, including Germans, are notoriously more secular than Americans (on average) - as measured in poll after poll during much of the postwar period - Easter is taken very, very seriously. It appears to be at least as big as Christmas.

So, while my devout countrymen are slaving at work on the Friday before and Monday after Western Easter, Germans are enjoying a four-day weekend. Painting eggs rather than houses, among other traditions.

Because of all this, while I contemplate my navel this extended weekend, I've realized there is a downside to being married to someone of Eastern Orthodox faith.

Don't get me wrong, Easterners stuff themselves silly in a warm family environment.

But, by the time you figure out what time of year it is, the Catholics and Protestants have long since stripped the chocolate Easter bunnies off the grocery shelves.

This has happened to me every year for at least the last ten years.

But not this time.

Easter

Blog visitors for December 2008, and Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T18:54:00.005+01:00

Thanks to all of you for stopping by, even if you were looking for something else. Here you are, from around the world, for the last 30 days:

May 2009 bring you all the health and wishes-come-true that you can tolerate. :-)

Viaţa are prioritate

2008-12-29T13:12:00.008+01:00

On the main highway between Bucharest and Buzău recently, my friends pointed out the numerous roadside crosses memorializing those who died at each location.

We do the same thing in America, I said.

Yes, but do you have 67 of them in one stretch of road of about 55 kilometers?

The thing about that stretch of road is that it is, with occasional bends, dead straight after each bend, with clear views across the Wallachian plain. Except for one T-bone intersection on the exact middle of the inside of a curve just outside Buzău, where drivers turning left routinely block one or both lanes on the main highway curving to the right -- but that's a separate masterpiece of total idiocy by civil planners, who have deemed a traffic light or even curlicue on-ramps unnecessary where no one can see anything in either direction.

No, all those crosses line a straight road, where detecting oncoming traffic is no problem. There is, of course, no median to insulate anyone from people passing each other in lanes of oncoming traffic.

Along the same highway are quite a few signs warning you "STOP ACCIDENTELOR - VIAŢA ARE PRIORITATE." Literally, "Stop for accidents - life has priority."

You'd think this needn't be a reminder in post-communist Romania, but apparently it is.

And only for the accidents, as opposed to people who would've been OK but for someone else's daredevil stupidity on a straight stretch of road.

Romania highway fatalities

Crăciun fericit

2008-12-25T20:25:00.005+01:00

I may be missing out on Silvester, the invigorating exchange of rocket-powered firecrackers in central plaza warzones located in many North Central European cities, but here in my favorite stomping grounds of Romania, I have discovered yet another pleasure on my fourteenth or so visit.

To wit, palinca. Not just the usual plum-based palinca, which is double-distilled hooch of rural origins (relative to the single distillation known as ţuica by Romanians and šljivovica to South Slavs), and thus prone to knock your socks off. Standard palinca has been my friend since 1994 and is thus, well, old news.

Rather, palinca brewed from apples, courtesy of my father-in-law's many work-related travels about the country. Not being the sort of snob capable of refined descriptions for gourmet magazines, I am limited to recommending that you go out of your way to try it if you can find it.

I have, of course, been filled to the gills with salty pork products, in standard Romanian Christmas accompaniment to said spirits. As well as with overly sweet pastries.

So while I indulge my heartburn, let me wish all you readers out there a Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays / Don't Shoot Me For Being Politically Incorrect in between your holiday libations. And, given the limitations of my MIL's computer without the right photo software, I may not be able to treat you to lovely pictures of urban carolers and pagan ceremonies in Bucharest as soon as I'd like. But that should probably wait until you're less libated for viewing purposes, anyway.

palinca ţuica tsuica Romania

Glühwein

2008-12-06T13:28:00.002+01:00

If you're looking for Christmas libation fun of a German nature, you can find a whole bunch of recipes for variations on Glühwein and other assorted drinks here.

And if your German is, well, challenged, you might try the online dictionary Leo while you wait for your order of a good-sized Oxford or Langenscheidt dictionary.

Glühwein Gluehwein Gluhwein

Blog visitors for October 2008 and browser choice

2008-10-31T20:06:00.006+01:00

I've mentioned before that I get a kick out of this, and I haven't posted this sort of thing for awhile, so here you are: the top cities of visitors to this blog for October 2008.

The more often you and your neighbors visit, the bigger your location appears. ;-)

In other news, please drop me a comment if you're having any layout / readability issues with the blog. My knowledge of CSS code is really, really tiny, so I can't give any guarantees -- but I'm contemplating another shift in the blog's layout to accommodate different browser window sizes. It may just take me awhile to learn CSS enough to pull it off.

Thanks!

P.S. It's been ages since I did this, since I am a fully converted Firefox user, but I just went and peeked at the blog with Internet Explorer. YMMV, but I find the Firefox rendering of this blog much more pleasing than through IE.

I have no idea what to tell the rest of you in the Mac world. ;-)

Breaking bills in the Vatican?

2008-10-30T21:03:00.007+01:00

Earlier this month, Mrs. Mushroom and I took a nice jaunt to Rome. Naturally, the first thing you do when you visit Rome is join the hordes in the Vatican.

No, sorry, there were no usurers' tables to overturn in proper pious outrage in or even near St. Peter's Basilica. After a few hours' tour with a nice, informative guide offsetting the cheap radio earpiece, and after being chastised by an elderly staffer in St. Peter's for the crime of using a monopod for my camera that inconvenienced no one but said staffer, we sat outside near the columns on the boulevard, waiting for our tour bus to return.

A strikingly dressed Rom woman came up and, as any traveler of the Balkans immediately expects, asked for money.

My usual strategy for Rom requests of this nature is to outwait the requester. (I've learned not to take pictures, because then you're really in for relentless demands for paying for the privilege with your wallet out in the open. I also don't like encouraging strangers who ask for money. If I'm going to donate anything to a needy person, I usually find food or water.)

Mrs. Mushroom, possibly indulging Romanian cultural norms, is more charitable, and donated some of our change.

The slightly flustered Iranian-American tourist next to us now had herself an acute moment of social discomfort. She chose to resolve it by also donating money.

Only she reached in her pocket, and found no change.

Sheepishly, she pulled out a five euro bill and asked the Rom woman, in English, "I'm sorry - do you have any change?"

If that wasn't enough to force you to stifle an incredulous chuckle, the Rom woman topped it.

She reached into her own brightly-colored dress pocket - and made change.

I swear, I've never seen anything quite like it.

Roma

Berlin's Festival of Lights

2008-10-26T11:04:00.005+01:00

The festival ends today, but Berlin these past 12 days has been a wonderful sight to behold, courtesy of the Festival of Lights, an artistic lighting of various famous buildings and structures.

Having been somewhat ill and busy up until now, I only managed to capture some of the views from Gendarmenmarkt last night. I was shooting without a tripod, so please cut me a little slack. Enjoy!

Festival of Lights Berlin

Why Bother With Standard Time?

2008-10-25T22:20:00.005+02:00

In a few more hours, EU directives will kick in and most of Europe will revert to Standard Time.

My country, the good ol' USA, decided since 2007 to postpone this to the first Sunday in November as part of a legislative plan to save energy. That is, pending an energy study to see if we actually are saving energy, thanks to skepticism in the same legislature that resulted in retaining the right to switch back to Standard Time on the last Sunday in October.

It's not clear how Congress was going to lose that right to begin with, but I digress. Why do we bother going back to Standard Time at all?

More light in the afternoon is said to reduce traffic fatalities, it somehow motivates more people to shop in retail stores, and it lets more people play sports after work (no small victory for overweight Americans...).

Generally, even a smidgen of more afternoon light cheers up people like me who get exceedingly grumpy when they haven't seen a single ray of light most of the workday. Even in the dark of winter, we know we got light in the afternoon before The Change, and will soon get it back after the deepest part of winter if we could just stay the hell on Daylight Savings Time. That's right, 365 days a year.

Oh, and computer operating system clocks don't crash your business or public transportation systems when they don't have to change twice every year, let alone to hit moving targets altered by legislatures every few years.

So who defends Standard Time? Farmers, entertainers, and parents of schoolkids?

I don't quite see how serious fans of any musical, theatrical, sports or other entertainment act are going to ditch their favorite group or team because there's an extra hour of light in rather cold weather. Don't tease me with the loss of Jay Leno; late night TV and comedy clubs are not about to shut down because of where the sun is. Have patience, it will be dark soon enough.

Worried about your kid standing in the dark for the morning schoolbus? I got news for you. After about early October, I spent darn near every school morning waiting for the bus in the near-dark, regardless of time system - and that was in Sunbelt Tennessee. This holds for most people who live in a zone with, well, hills or trees. And by the way - more light later gets your child home while it's still relatively light, when your child is much more tired by a whole school day.

Farmers? They're going to work around the daylight, regardless of when the clock shifts.

So, someone please explain to me what I'm missing. How do these "disadvantages" outweigh the manifold benefits?

Ditch Standard Time. Relabel Daylight Savings Time as "Standard Time" if we must, but what's stopping us from having 365 days of good sense through better light?

Daylight Savings Time Standard Time

Berlin, seen through a toy

2008-09-27T23:59:00.006+02:00

Preparing for gallivanting across Europe in the very near future, I splurged on a new toy. Consequently, I spent today figuring it out on the fly, at least the basics. I'm talking about a Canon digital SLR, replacing my old Elan IIE film camera. Familiar design features are still where I expect them, but blimey, if they've haven't added a few more buttons and functions in a gadget-wild world.

One of the first few shots happened through blind luck. I was just experimenting with the image stabilizing zoom, when I caught a father just beginning to crouch so as to catch his son running towards him:

Shortly thereafter, my companion and I hopped an open-air double-decker bus for a tour of Berlin on one of its few sunny days in the autumn. These next few shots are of the Berliner Dom, the reconstructed church where the Hohenzollern family bury their dead and worship on occasion:

Those hulking concrete pillars are what's left of the Palace of the Republic, the fine piece of gargantuan government nonsense bequeathed to German architectural history by the GDR, and in the process of being removed as a gargantuan ex-government nuisance / eyesore.

Keep in mind I had to shoot these on the fly from a moving vehicle. I'm not claiming compositional expertise, mind.

Of course, Berlin sightseeing would never be complete without a shot of the old GDR TV tower complete with large metal ball containing a revolving restaurant, namely the Fernsehtürm that looms over darn near everything.

Shortly thereafter, we found our way and our 15 euro tickets cut off by a marathon of young adults and kids. After watching our bus back up from an alley with no exit, we abandoned a sunny Saturday meandering for home.

Perhaps to compensate, the weather supplied a nice sunset to go with the slowly building cloud cover:

Stay tuned while I figure out the nooks and crannies of the Canon digital world, and recover from a very, very busy month.

Berlin Berliner Dom Fernsehturm