Multiple Reality Disorder

Picture of the day: From Prussia to today in the snow

2012-01-29T11:10:00.001+01:00

Out for Lange Nacht der Museen, Berlin's twice annual museum night, nearing Museum Island, where two centuries of history get crammed together: On the far left, the Prussian-era Berliner Dom, to the far right, today's city hall, with the ugly Park Inn Hotel and communist-built TV Tower in between. The utterly pointless Humboldt Box sits atop what used to be the Prussian Palace, which with a few billion more euros, may one day be again.

Picture of the day: Berlin posthumously honors Frankenstein with a street in his name

2012-01-14T15:56:00.000+01:00

Strange, I can't find this on Google Maps ...

Friday: 28 km by bike. Give or take.

2012-01-14T15:13:00.001+01:00

Just another normal day at work ...
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The 2011 Custy Awards

2012-01-12T00:05:00.002+01:00

Readers of this blog will know I use a considerable amount of its space demonstrating my curmudgeon skills. On any given day, chances are good that someone, somewhere, has wronged me. Maybe the woman at the post office didn't want to refund a stamp I had bought by accident. It could be the cyclist in front of me stopping at a red light on an empty street. Or perhaps an airline thinks 15€ is more valuable than a customer. You know who you are.

With 2012 settling in -- no, my New Year's resolution is not to complain less (where's the fun in that?) -- it's a good time to take a look back at 2011 to recognize those few companies that bucked the trend. They deserve praise and to be made an example of, and I do so by bestowing upon them the prestigious Custy Award -- my very own, completely made up prize for those who have demonstrated outstanding customer service in the past year.

1. Custy for Most Consistent goes to ... Amazon

This comes as no surprise, and is probably getting a bit boring by now. But credit must be given where it is due. Whether .com or .de, Amazon is fantastic (partly thanks to having more money than most mid-sized nations, which enables them to afford being fantastic). Not only can you get absolutely everything you could ever possibly want, and get absolutely everything you could ever possibly want without taking off your slippers, but you get absolutely everything you could ever possibly want at the lowest price around. Then it comes to you in, like, three days.

And if you don't like what you just got, you can return it. For free. No questions asked. If you aren't sure about something, you can email them, and Amazon will email you back. Normally in less than a day. In Germany, they have English-speaking customer service just for dumb Americans like me.

You can even call them to talk to a real person. I'm starting to wonder what Amazon will not do for you; I'm almost tempted to call them up and ask for something ridiculous, like free shopping for a year. Just to see what they will say.

One quibble, and that is the free shipping claim. It's a good deal if you're buying several things that together come to more than $25 or 20€. However, if you're buying just one thing over the free shipping threshold, chances are good that Amazon's offer, which says free shipping, will be conspicuously $5, or 5€, more than that from a third party, where delivery is $5, or 5€, extra. You see the fuzzy math going on here. So even if shipping is free, you're still not saving any money.

2. Custy for Most Low-key Reliable goes to ... Callmobile

If you've never heard of Callmobile, it's probably because you enjoy spending more money than you should on your mobile phone plan. Also because they are an online-only, pay-as-you-go, no-contract mobile service provider. I've had them for as long as I've had a German bank account.

Callmobile is totally hassle free -- there when you need them, not when you don't. Signing up and managing your account is super easy, all done through their website by simply checking boxes for the features you want as part of your plan. You can monitor your phone use any time with down-to-second, line-itemized tracking, then download the information into a PDF or have Callmobile generate a bill for you every month at no cost.

Extreme circumstances notwithstanding, I never pay more than 15€/month for all my talking, texting and web browsing. There's no need for one of their several internet flats, because at 9 cents/minute (yes, minute, not kilobyte), I can check all the email I want, look for as many directions as I need and update my calendar as much as necessary all for a couple euros per month.

If that sounds like neither a lot nor not a lot, consider that a contract with any major German provider will run you a minimum of 20-25€/month, and you'll still be paying as much as .30€ per SMS or minute of talk as soon as your paltry, included data is used up. Not to mention the two years of your life you have to give them.

Unfortunately, Callmobile doesn't yet offer the micro-SIM required for iPhone/iPad, meaning you'd have to manually cut a regular SIM down to size. But given the pace at which Callmobile adds new features, I'm confident that's just a matter of time.

ACHTUNG! Gefällt dir das? Natürlich. Wenn du wechseln willst, ich kann erstmal dir eine Empfehlung machen. Dann bekommen wir beides Geld!

3. Custy for Most Delightful goes to ... DM

Americans living in America won't be able to appreciate this because they are accustomed to friendly service, pleasing shopping environments, incredible selection and low prices. Not always the case here.

Then there's DM, something like a CVS or Duane Reade. But better. I could live there. When I'm bored, I go there just to walk around. I stop in for shampoo and come out with shampoo and yummy snacks and warm shoe liners and bar soap for .35€. Thirty-five cents!

The store is bright and clean and cheery. There's a water cooler if you're thirsty (and if you're not). Toys for children. Strange products like organic cabbage juice. And if you're lucky, you overhear frou-frou conversations from frou-frou parents such as, "Should we get more nipples? My nipples have disintegrated."

DM is a delight. And they take Payback, a German partner rewards program that is slowly but surely turning me into my coupon-clipping grandmother. One day I'll have enough points to get that thing I never wanted and don't need.

4. Custy for Most Surprising goes to ... Alice DSL

It's been a tough year for Alice, the Spanish-owned home internet and telephone provider. In October, they had to rather hastily boot their bombshell model, popularly known as the Alice Girl, when it was learned that the 23-year-old Italian was in bed -- literally -- with one of the Qaddafi sons. And quite unapologetically so.

My relationship with Alice (the company, that is) also did not end the year well. For reasons still not entirely figured out, I was without internet for a week in December. They shipped me a new modem/router and, make a boring story short, 60 minutes in mangled telephone German, and more than 22€ in technical support fees and 3G internet use later, the internet in my apartment was back.

It was a long shot, but I wanted my money back. You see, German companies do not believe in the toll-free number, which if I've read the Bible correctly, God created just before his nap on the Seventh Day. Companies are not eager to help their customers like they are in America (consider, Kellogg's actually pays a person to field questions about Pop-Tarts). In Germany, the customer is king much in the same way Prince Charles is.

Now Germany does many, many (and I mean, many -- too many to discuss here) things better than the United States, but customer service is not one of those things (which is odd, given Germany's emphasis on fairness, which also happens to be one of those things Germany does better than the U.S.). It's not because Germans aren't fully aware they're getting screwed. They are. It's because Germans are very bad at being assholes*.

Everyone mocked me, but my determination paid off. It wasn't much more than an hour after sending them an email that I received an email back. And it wasn't much more than a day after Christmas that Alice confirmed they would be taking 22€ off my forthcoming bill.

For their remarkable response time and respect for the customer, this Custy is most definitely for them.

5. Custy for Least Bureaucratic goes to ... German bureaucracy

In closing out 2011 and ringing in 2012, the one thought I couldn't get out of my head was: I have to pay taxes again? Didn't I just do that last year?

Indeed, a feat of Sisyphean proportions. And this year (by which I mean, last year) I kept much better track of business expenses and am aiming to do a much better job at reducing my tax burden -- all without a tax advisor, even though everyone says you simply can't live without one, but I will because the money they could possibly save me is probably not worth the money it would definitely cost me to have them save me the money.

The nice thing about paying taxes in Germany -- no, not that they go to health insurance, helping families and students, subsidizing clean energy and keeping people at work -- is that the tax office acts as a kind of tax advisor in its own right. You tell them your situation, show them your documents, ask them your questions, and they'll tell you what you have to do. Of course, they're not going to advertise the loopholes a private advisor would, but again, for someone in my position, those loopholes are likely not to be that lucrative, anyway. Better to pay what you legally owe, save what you legally can, and move on with your life (by which I mean, get ready for next year's taxes).

My local tax office gets the Custy for least bureaucratic for doing something simple: they answered my email. Not once, not twice, but three times. Each time promptly, patiently and thoroughly.

They share this award with another arm of the German state, the foreigner's office -- a.k.a., the kind people who give you your visa, thus your life, in Germany.

Dealing with the foreigner's office is always an ordeal. You need to make an appointment 4-6 weeks before you need it. You're supposed to email them, but I've never gotten a response. Calling times are limited to about 20 minutes a day, and only when the dew point drops below 70. Which means you have to schlep up there and do it in person.

And it is a schlep. For a city where you are never more than a block from public transport, the foreigner's office is the dark side of the moon. On the river, surrounded by old and dilapidated factories, and criss-crossing railroad tracks. George Orwell couldn't have described a more fitting location.

Same goes for the building itself. Huge, hulking and concrete. Halls, rooms and floors divided into numbers and letters, each corresponding to countries and individuals' last names. What's that about parallel lines never meeting? Well they do: at the foreigner's office, wherever the harshly lit corridors end.

Even though I just had my visa extended a year ago, I'm subjecting myself to further torment because I should be eligible for an unrestricted freelance visa, meaning I can do any kind of freelance work, not only teach English. We shall see.

The appointment-making process described above? Gone. Replaced by a fully automated, do-it-yourself online booking system. It's brilliant. And incredibly easy. Choose some options from a few drop-down menus; enter your information; and choose (yes, YOU get to choose) the date AND time YOU want (want!) to come. No longer a 4-6 week wait, appointments are now available with as little as one week notice.

Now we have to see if this digitized system has been extended to their file-keeping, as well. Or if they'll dust off that big manila folder of information they have about me -- and every other foreigner operating legally here.

---

So there you have it. The 2011 Custy Awards. If you're a company and would like to be considered for a 2012 Custy, it's easy: impress me.

*Naturally, you assume "asshole" to be negative. You assume wrong. Like everything, it's about context and control. Sometimes you need to be an asshole. The situation calls for it. Germans, always circumspect, err on the side of less asshole. Americans, convinced of their entitlement, err on the side of more. Once again, the theory I developed early into my time here holds: Combining American and German values would make for a hell of a society.

Check out my swanky new splash page from about.me

2011-12-07T13:56:00.001+01:00

About.me/billglucroft

Picture of the day: ... And after. Kaiser's fit for a king

2011-12-03T11:03:00.001+01:00

People of Wrangelkiez rejoice! Even we are worthy of a grocery store fit for human consumption. At lightning pace, the neighborhood Kaiser's transformed from disaster area to friendly supermarket. Still small, of course, and still without flour. Nonetheless, a major and long-past-due improvement. Now open till midnight!

Relatedly, it's a good time to point out German sales philosophy, which can be summarized as 1-for-5, 2-for-10. Or in the picture below, 400 grams of bread crumbs for .99€, 1000 grams of bread crumbs for, you got it, .99€.

Oh the places your trash goes

2011-11-27T09:31:00.000+01:00

What is the Berlin Wall doing today?

Sorting Berlin's trash

What I love most about being an English teacher to adults is the chance to peer inside the many jobs and companies that make up an economy. In this case, the only functional economy, it seems, left on earth: Germany's. It's fascinating to see first-hand the thousands of ways a person can earn a living, and how they all add up to fill the big picture.

Every day I show up to one company or another and get to learn what it does, and what different people in that organization do. Occasionally I get to do something even cooler. That is, see for myself just how a modern society continues to function every day without falling into complete chaos, a fact that defies logic given the seven billion people who now inhabit the planet.

On Friday, I got to tour the Alba sorting facility, a relatively new and sprawling complex responsible for sorting the daily paper and packaging refuse of some four million people in Berlin, the area and a couple nearby regions.

Awesome, right?

Germany, it likely doesn't surprise you, has some of the highest recycling standards in Europe (which probably also means the world). When I first came here, it was hard to get my head around the fact that pretty much everything I called "trash" in the U.S. is recycled here. Though the target of mockery and cause for confusion, the system is pretty simple: blue is for paper; yellow is for packaging (plastic and metal); brown is for bio (that's right, food and other organic material gets composted on a nationwide scale); a new orange box takes heavier items like kitchen appliances; and glass is either collected on the street (itself sub-divided into brown, green and clear/white) or brought back to the store, along with plastic bottles, for a handsome deposit return (similar to what some U.S. states have, only far more comprehensive).

There is a gray or black bin for actual trash -- items that don't fall into the above-mentioned categories. But since these are so broad, there is, or should be, very little left over. That's my experience, anyway.

Why go through the effort? Sure it takes stress off the environment. It also can earn you bags of cash. Waste management is big business, and the German market is fiercely competitive, involving all kinds of operators both public and private. Once sorted and stacked, the valuable materials retrieved from our every day garbage is sold by the ton, to re-enter the manufacture stream of products we will later buy, use and throw out again.

Picture of the day: Kaiser's gutted. Be careful what you tweet

2011-11-14T15:49:00.001+01:00

From almost Day 1 of living here, I have reserved a special ire for the Kaiser's grocery store closest to me. I am not alone, of course. It is a regular target of contempt among those in the neighborhood.

Generally speaking, Kaiser's is at the higher end of the German food shopping experience. In all their locations, that is, except the one on Wrangelstr. Ours is tiny, cramped, often out of stock of the basics, and staffed by a group of post-prime women who are at worst grumpy and at best totally clueless. It much more resembles an Aldi -- owner of Trader Joe's, and famous for its cut-throat prices and shabby looking stores -- which itself resembles a third-world country after a government collapse and before a UN peacekeeping force arrives.

Even the Kaiser's in Kottbusser Tor is gleaming and spacious -- and nothing should rank below anything you find in Kottbusser Tor. (You will recall this was the exact spot of the pro-Turkey demo from a few weeks ago.)

To more clearly make my point, a few weeks ago I found a total of zero employees at the cash registers. I waited. And waited. And waited. I politely tried to catch someone's eye. When that didn't work, I gently asked for someone to open a line. Their reaction? A less than courteous, "Yea, we're coming soon. Just wait!"

Sorry, if I had known how much of an inconvenience it would be, I would have gladly walked out without paying.

Just last Friday, I went in for milk, flour and oats -- pretty much the most staple items you can get. They were completely out of the cheaper, store-brand flour and out of all oats entirely.

This incident led me to tweet from my German handle: Who wants to join me in buying the Wrangelstr. Kaiser's, and making it into a real super market?

Apparently, someone read that and took me up on my offer. Because not three days later, Monday, I came across the image you see above: a completely demolished storefront, undergoing a from-scratch renovation.

I just hope they fix it up soon. I've got to shop somewhere.

Rundown of blog-worthy Germans I've crossed the last weeks

2011-11-10T23:32:00.000+01:00

1. At the synagogue
Last week started an informal Parsha discussion group -- that is, a collection of people from the neighborhood interested in talking about that week's Torah portion. I dare not call it "Torah study", lest I give us (but mostly me) a far more intellectual air than we (mostly I) deserve. Really, it's a fledgling attempt to bring young people out of the woodwork, providing a friendly setting that may prompt them to get more involved with a, let's face it, aging community.

The first meeting was quite successful, with nine turning up -- German, Israeli and some other countries, with the language of discussion reflecting those nationalities (I ended up slogging through a liberal interpretation that was translated into German from the original English). Group dynamics were pretty quickly established, revealing who was there to talk, who was there to listen, and who was there for the cake and tea.

The Parsha was Lech L'cha, a grounding moment for the Jewish narrative, when Abraham journeyed to the Holy Land and accepted God as the one and only. With help from Dekel, who's knowledge of such things was revealed through the whole three lines of text we got through after nearly two hours, I actually learned something. It turns out that the Abraham story every Jew knows from Hebrew school doesn't have much to do with the actual story. Far from it. Not only does it appear from the text that Abraham didn't rebel against his father's idol worship (you will recall the smashing of the idols and so forth that was Abraham's act of adolescent rebellion), but he was in fact continuing a journey his father himself had started.

Who knew?

If that sounds appealing, come down to Fraenkelufer on Thursday evenings from 7-9. You'll find me there only irregularly due to other commitments, though it does fit well with poker later that night.

2. At the pool
I've mentioned I've started using the pool just across the park from me. Normally, I get in on the student price (a whopping euro less), because my college ID has no expiry date and I'm still under 27 (another requirement for reduced-price eligibility). In all but one case, the cashiers have been very friendly. I simply show my college ID in combination with my drivers license to prove my age (which I always have to guide them to, given Connecticut's eye-friendly decision to put the birthdate in red against the blue background of Long Island Sound). Aware there may come a time the cashier might not go for this, I kept the old entrance tickets to show as precedent.

That time came a few weeks ago, and in a big way. A fat, nasty woman who treated her glass-enclosed cashier box as the Pope's throne would neither accept my IDs nor care that none of her colleagues had previously denied me the reduced price. Silly me, I hadn't realized she had anointed herself as unilateral, omnipotent decider and enforcer of pool regulations.

For the euro, it wasn't worth fighting. However, I was so eager to leave her to relish alone in the meaningless victory of her bitchiness, I didn't realize she had failed to give me the one euro in change I deserved because, upon closer inspection, I saw she had given me the euro-more two-hour ticket instead of the one-hour I had asked for.

An additional euro I could deal with, but a second as a result of her anti-customer vitriol was more than I was willing to swallow. Plus, I needed it for the locker key deposit.

Problem was, I didn't put all this together until after I had gone through the electronic turnstile. And once you go in, you don't go back. But I did, and she was less than pleased to see my face again on the other side of her glass, especially with the contemptuous idea of telling her she had wrongly shorted me.

When she asked if I had gone through already, I knew how to answer: in the negative. (Mind you, this is all in German, which made her sound extra unpleasant.) Reluctantly, and feeling at least the tad bit bested, she returned my euro and printed me a new ticket.

Flush with catharsis, I headed back to the turnstile, dipping the exchanged ticket into the scanner. I guess by then she had checked the computer system, because a deafening boom rang out across the empty lobby. "YOU DID GO THROUGH! YOU DID GO THROUGH! COME BACK HERE!!"

In a flash, my German skills vanished, as did my ability to hear entirely. I slipped through the turnstile, my lumbering bike bag squeaking by behind me, and fled to the safety of the men's locker room, while she sat helplessly trapped in her box, suddenly feeling more like a spiteful cage than throne-on-high.

3. At the train station
Deutsche Bahn tickets are expensive. Everyone knows that. Fortunately, non-Europeans and non-Europeans only have an alternative. They are eligible for the German Rail Pass, which allows 3-10 days of unlimited travel to anywhere Deutsche Bahn trains go, valid for one month, all for less than many one-way, long-distance tickets. All you need is your non-EU passport. It's a bargain, I tell you!

I was intending to make use of this offer last month for travel to the Frankfurt Book Fair, then onto Kai in Tübingen, then back to Berlin at the close of the weekend.

A few days before travel, I went to the ticket office at the main station (one of the few places you can get this sort of pass). Upon presenting my American passport, the young woman behind the desk kindly informed me my German work visa negated my right to purchase the pass.

We sparred politely for a few minutes, during which she tried to convince me the pass is valid only for tourists, thereby excluding any foreigner here longer than six months, and I tried to convince her that a) I've purchased the pass several times before without trouble, and b) the Deutsche Bahn website clearly states any holder of a non-EU passport -- full stop -- is eligible.

The debate ended in a draw when I told her the information she was showing me to support her case, by virtue of being on DB's intranet, was impossible for the customer to know about, and was contrary to the information that supported my case, found on the internet -- available everywhere, it seems, but the DB ticket office computer system.

Solution: Come back with the information and we'll compare notes. Which I did, more than an hour after criss-crossing the city to get home, back to the station and wait in line.

This time, another, slightly older version of the first woman (and two desks down from her) took on my case, with the same response.

The fact is, I told her over the coming 10 minutes, nowhere in either my or your information says the word "tourist", so my purpose for being in Germany and the length of time I've been here makes no difference. Yes, there is a six-month clause, but that applies to Europeans living outside Europe, not non-Europeans living inside Europe. I'm sorry your company only puts the information about the German Rail Pass in English (exactly because it's for foreigners), though I'm happy to translate it for you, and if you're telling me that what's on the DB intranet nullifies what's on the DB internet, then what's the point of having a website for the public at all?

Ultimately, I failed to convince her. I did, however, accomplish something far greater. Something I never thought I could against a German public servant: Give up. I didn't walk out of there with rail pass in hand because she thought I was right; I did because she thought I was exhausting.

4. At the cafe
Nest is a typical, and typically suitable, cafe in my neighborhood, with the good fortune of having unobstructed access to sunshine -- when, that is, the sun is so kind to grace Berlin with its presence. It's also the frequent meeting point for me and my German tandem partner, Andreas (found, mostly in German, here and here).

It was on one of these very precious sunny days that we met there, and managed to secure one of the few, unused outside tables. The waitress serving this area we are familiar with. She's quite pleasant and down to earth, but something of a space cadet -- on a good day, and with nearly every seat taken and every table full and she responsible for all of them, this was not a good day.

Her sweet aloofness presented itself when trying twice to take our order without first giving us the menus we had asked for from which to order. When we at last managed to sneak a peek at one, I was excited to see pumpkin lasagna as the day's special.

"Pumpkin lasagna is out," she quickly informed us, and just as quickly disappeared into the cafe. When she popped back over to us, she dashed my second choice. "Lentil soup is also out," disappearing again, only to return moments later with new information. "Lentil soup is in, pumpkin soup is out. Pumpkin lasagna is still out."

And a final, breathless revision: "There's no pumpkin lasagna. The lentil soup is out. But you can have the pumpkin soup."

Now successfully confused, we went with two of the other pasta dishes we were more confident actually existed, which came out in record time, only without the accompanying drinks. Those never came, so we moved right onto cappuccino.

She did her best to bring these without fail, but as she set mine down on the table, her palm hit the spoon resting on the saucer, which like a catapult launched the little cookie it was cradling. The cookie away, the spoon bellyflopped onto the table with a resounding clang. Not to be outdone, the proceeding glasses of water landed with equivalent gusto.

5. At the bakery
Only within the last year have I started to frequent one of the best bakeries in Berlin, and it's two minutes on foot from my door. I had always written off Salute as a bakery backwater because it's squished into a haven for 3 a.m. drunks, opposite the gritty underground station.

Turns out, Salute is fantastic whether inebriated or sober because it is one of only two Berlin bakeries I know of that both bakes everything fresh, from scratch on premises, and is open 24/7. It's Turkish, meaning you get all those tasty regional treats like baklava, poppy seed cookies, halva products and ridiculously creamy cakes that will make you diabetic just looking at them.

You also get wonderfully disinterested service from a rotating crop of work-weary women who, I'm guessing, are all one way or another related.

This is what I was expecting when I stopped in one rainy morning to bring breakfast treats for my student and me to munch on during our lesson. However, none of the dour women were present, taking their place a bright-faced man who could pass for my grandpa if my grandpa were Turkish and a baker. (For the record, he is neither.)

The guy was all smiles. And very chatty, cheerfully picking out the choicest croissants, wholegrain rolls, and spinach and cheese böreks to give me. I prepared to pay, but looked up from my wallet when he said, "This is for you," holding out a warm sugar cookie for me to take.

Americans reading this might not see the uniqueness of throwing in a little something for free. But, man, this is Berlin. You get what you pay for and not one bit extra. You, the customer, should feel lucky to be served at all.

Gladly, I took the cookie, exchanging it with what I owed for the rest. "And this is for you," I poked back, gathering up my things and heading out the door, the freshly baked treat melting in my mouth.

British food. Made by Americans. Eaten by Germans.

2011-11-06T15:05:00.001+01:00

Okay, the headline isn't entirely accurate. Naturally, a Berlin restaurant specializing in British food is going to cater to more than just Germans. Given it's prime location on Mehringdamm in Kreuzberg, Americans, Spanish and, of course, homesick Britons are all coming in for their afternoon tea. And at least one of the cooks at least sounded British.

Nevertheless, East London (more prominently dubbed "God save Brit food") opened over the summer with little pomp and circumstance, adding itself to the handful of British specialty shops in Berlin that, against all rational convention, demonstrate UK culture can be trendy (perhaps a lingering effect of the royal wedding).

Kai and I tried it out recently, and the opinion was mixed. On one hand, East London serves up hearty British staples like bangers & mash, full English breakfast and (of course) fish & chips at reasonable prices. We shared a pot pie that was atypically vegetarian and healthily portioned, including a side salad.

Yet despite the colorful mix of vegetables, dense potato "crust", and layer of melted cheddar, the bottom was rather watery and I found the dish overall needing heavy doses of salt and malt vinegar. Generally speaking, those are negatives in my mind, though I suppose soggy veggies and blandness could be the whole point of serving authentic British food.

The atmosphere was what was really lacking, however. The brick interior had a rather generic feel, and was almost completely void of decoration. Aside from a small corner selling British treats such as Cadbury chocolate and Newcastle Ale (at more than 4€ a bottle!), there wasn't much British about it. The menu made no effort to explain what British food is, how their sausage is different from Germans' wurst or why, for example, anyone on earth would ever want to eat pudding.

If I'm going to eat somewhere that exists for the sole purpose of showcasing a particular ethnic or national specialty, I want to know the reasons for its specialness. (I don't mean this to apply to the Indian and Thai restaurants that exist on every-other corner.) If Britain is your brand, sell it. I want photos of famous British people on the walls, funny quotes about British ways in the menu, and smatterings of British humor, trivia and cultural kitsch to accompany the food.

Don't just give me a taste of British food. Give me a taste of Britain. Fill my stomach with food, but also fill my brain with tidbits.

That could be asking too much, so let's refocus on the waitstaff. There were two during our visit, a spright and portly fellow taking and bringing the orders, and a pretty, young woman behind the counter on the espresso machine and at the cash register. Both clearly American, which definitely stole some of the restaurant's street cred, regardless if the cooks in the back were genuinely of the Queen's domain.

Service and friendliness were not an issue here. Nevertheless, something was unsettling. It may be arbitrary, and certainly none of my business or concern, but given that the typical wayward American scraping by as a waiter in Berlin is more than half the man's age (indeed, his colleague was half his age, and at a higher position), you've got to wonder what his story is.

More to the point, and unlike the other, he couldn't speak German. Not a word. You might be able to get away with that working in a British restaurant if you're actually British, but as an American, your only security is trusting that most Germans can't tell the difference.

The value of speaking -- at least, attempting to speak, and at the very least, showing humility that you can't speak -- the language of the country you're in, especially if your work requires regular interaction with native speakers of that language, should be obvious. If not, what unfolded as Kai and I were on our way out should make it so.

Two Germans had come in looking for coffee and cake, a traditional afternoon habit for many Germans I've grown quite fond of. What they wanted was simple: two lattes and two slices of different cakes.

What should have been a painless order proceeded to take a couple repeats, confirmations and reconfirmations, hand signs, physically pointing to what they wanted and, ultimately, the customers switching to English to get the deal done.

It was a cringing exchange to overhear. Not only the absence of British charm and lack of German awareness, but a violation of the spirit of American customer service, that is, the customer is always right. At the very least, he shouldn't have forsaken that.

You can find East London in Kreuzberg at Mehringdamm 33. I give it a rating of 2 whippersnappers out of 5 on the revered knickerbocker scale.

Pictures of the day: Görlitzer gets a makeover

2011-11-05T10:52:00.003+01:00

What is going on in Görlitzer, the beloved and decrepit park at the end of my street? Surely, Berlin officials know it's not worthy of what precious few funds this "poor but sexy" city has to play with.

Nonetheless, since the summer, they've actually been taking care of the place. It's been watered regularly. The grass has been cut and edged. The leaves raked. The trees trimmed. The trash collected. Who knew the fountains were actually connected to water.

Yes, Görlitzer is a strange and wonderful place. A railway station before the War, now a Kreuzberg park that accurately reflects its neighborhood of öko-moms, starving artists, Turkish grillers, cafe dwellers and immigrant drug dealers. There's even a petting zoo.

If, after a rain storm, the dirt paths aren't a Noah's flood, and if, by August, the grass isn't a trash-strewn dustbowl, something's wrong. So you can imagine the collective surprise when a construction crew came out this summer to replace the ankle-twisting stones of the main, north-south path with smooth, black pavement.

Which was nice, but it still left the main, east-west path, which connects my street to busy Wienerstr. on the other side, untouched. How nice it would be if they did to east-west what they had done to north-south.

I was distracted by this very thought the other night as I biked into the park to get across it, causing me to nearly run right into the mostly unseen and wholly unexpected chain-link fence cordoning off the east-west path. In the daylight the next morning, I could see the full nature of the project.

Any more motivation, and the next project may be picking up the dog shit off the sidewalks.

Picture of the day: Bearded billygoats in Berlin

2011-11-03T13:50:00.002+01:00

Sunshine and plenty of time convinced me to take a meandering route from work this morning. I find doing so always brings me to discover something new in or about Berlin. In this case, it's grazing billygoats (species check?) in an open patch of prime city real estate. You can find these organic lawnmowers on Alte Jakobstr., directly behind the Jewish Museum.

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Pictures of the day: Berlin can be beautiful in the fall

2011-11-03T13:40:00.000+01:00

Today along Wienerstr. Görlitzer Park, right.

Today, on my street, just outside my apartment

Yesterday afternoon on Kopischstr., the other side of Kreuzberg

Meet the newest member of Comedy Sportz Berlin

2011-11-03T13:34:00.002+01:00

Here (scroll to about middle of page)

Pictures of the day: Let in the light once more, now that there's no light to let in

2011-10-31T22:00:00.000+01:00

With the scaffolding at last down, now all there is to block the daylight is the lack of daylight itself. Here comes winter.

For purposes of comparison, click here

New and ongoing changes at Multiple Reality Disorder

2011-10-27T17:40:00.002+02:00

The changes going on at MRD are intended to make it a leaner, meaner, blogtasticer content producing machine. I'm looking to cut the fat, serve up the choicest cuts, all the while making it more pleasing to look at and navigate. Above all else, it's about (and this is real genius, real earth-shattering thinking) making this blog a place people might actually want to come to for content they may actually be interested to read and browse.

So here's what you can expect as of this moment, and more of, step-by-step, into the future:

Tighter focus: You'll notice significantly fewer (like 50 percent fewer) posts. A lot of backlist stuff is gone. That's because Multiple Reality Disorder is a blog about technology and media, language and communication, and what's going on as an American in Berlin. Many times, these areas of focus will intersect, and that's the whole point. If I've got something to say that doesn't fit these categories, you won't find it here. Maybe try Twitter.
More multimedia: I will strive to attach at least one image into every post. I will strive even more to ensure that these images are mine, though if impossible (likely due to sheer laziness), at least something from elsewhere on the Web. Also,

Photo slideshows will now be embedded using Minus. You don't need to be a member, but I recommend it. Sign up here and get bonus storage space! (Note: I haven't migrated everything over, so some older posts with slideshows will have dead links.)
Audio will now be hosted by SoundCloud. As above, nothing's really there yet.
For videos, I'm thinking of sticking with Blip, though I'm really liking the integration offered by twitvid and/or twitpic.
Audio slideshows will not change. However, not everything is embedded directly into posts. Need to update that, as well.

Better organized, SEO optimized: Each post will include targeted tags so they can be tracked down far more easily either externally on the mighty Google, or internally, if you're already on my blog and want to find something specific. For example, want a list of all "picture of the day" posts? Just search "picture of the day." Want everything about Berlin? Search "Berlin." That's pretty straightforward, I'm sure you get it. Once again, backlist posts aren't up to snuff yet, and in general I'll be tweaking tags now and then for even better groupings.
Pages toolbar: Until Blogger makes its gadgets compatible with HTML5, I have created pages to make up for some of what was lost when I made the switch. Right from the top of the page, you can read an About section, link directly to my Twitter feeds (that's right, plural: one in English and one NUR AUF DEUTSCH!), and link to a number of external, recommended blogs. More pages may be coming soon.

On that note, more changes in general may be coming soon. By this point, probably subtle changes, but you never know. The important thing is that you keep on popping in, reading, commenting, and providing feedback. It's all much appreciated.

Underwhelming camera market, Gleis 17, Cold War listening post and a lesson in orienteering (photos embedded)

2011-10-23T22:21:00.002+02:00

The season continues to treat Berlin to sunny days and very respectable temperatures, and I wanted to show my gratitude by making the most of this lovely Sunday afternoon.

I got on my bike around 2:30 and headed for a place I've never been before: Grunewald, an expanse of wilderness to Berlin's extreme west. When Berlin was still divided, this area was prime real estate in West Berlin, and therefore of great interest to American occupying forces, leading them to erect an impressive eavesdropping station at the highest point in Grunewald, a place dubbed Teufelsberg -- quite literally, Devil's Mountain.

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It's important to note here that Berlin lies in a geographic region of complete flatness. From here to the Baltic Sea, nothing rises much higher than a molehill. It can make for some pretty droning scenery, especially in the winter, and you can be quite certain that any elevation of any significance is anything but natural.

Teufelsberg is no exception. Look past the calming nature and dig below the top soil and you will find 60-year-old debris of some 400,000 Berlin homes bombed to dust during the War. The rubble was collected in the immediate post-war years and turned into the mountain it is today, with a now decommissioned U.S. intelligence facility sitting on top.

This was my goal, but as I said, I've never been to the area and I didn't really know exactly where I was going. So I meandered a bit, stopping off at a today-only camera market in Schöneberg, a sign for which I happened to pass. Entrance was 5€, which raised my expectations to believe what was on offer would be something more than any of the dozens of flea markets you can find on any given weekend around Berlin. These expectations quickly vanished, however, upon finding a mere two-and-a-half rooms of not-so-rare cameras and related equipment, as well as some random reading material on the subject. I left a few minutes later.

Continuing on my way, I steered clear of the commercial mess of KuDamm, pedaling through the back streets of old money. Actually, I don't know a whole lot about the history of west West Berlin, but I do know that this is where what little there is of Berlin's wealth resides. It's a completely different Berlin from where I live. There are houses -- nay, mansions -- many of which are now offices for dentists and lawyers and the like. You can't see much because most properties are encircled by high walls. It's very quiet.

I cycled into a park. I knew I was getting close. The park faded into unplanned open space and this into railway yards. Where was I? There were a few handfuls of people around, pausing and, it seemed, reflecting. I noticed roses and wreaths.

I was at Gleis 17, one of Berlin's smaller and less frequented Holocaust memorials. It's not well-known enough to jostle an emotional response, but Gleis (German for "track") 17 is where the Nazis collected 55,000 Berlin Jews to board trains to Auschwitz and other points of death around Europe.

Today the unused platform and track lie parallel to the active rail network. Anyone riding the S-Bahn to Grunewald is only a few hundred yards away, and the memorial is easily accessible from the station. In fact, I had to bike through the station and under the tracks to reach my destination, which is just on the other side.

Grunewald really is massive. Trails extend in every direction, and you can quickly find yourself completely alone and feel thousands of miles from anywhere. It was about 4 o'clock when I reached the park's main entrance, and I spent a good part of the coming hour going in circles looking for these damned listening towers, watching the autumnal sun dip lower and the forest's shadows grow longer.

It's probably only fair to include at this point that no one really wants you to find them. There aren't any signs directing you to Teufelsberg and you won't find it on a park map. That's because Teufelsberg is closed to the public, going there is trespassing, and the U.S. government, the German government, a private owner or all of the above would prefer the installation to disappear into the background of Grunewald's wilderness.

This explains why I had trouble finding it. Moreover, my phone's GPS was being fussy and I hadn't bothered to check the Google satellite image for Teufelberg's approximate location inside Grunewald. Which is why when my phone's GPS did finally kick in and I did bother to check the Google map, I realized I had been probing a part of the park directly opposite to the site's actual location.

Rule #1 of orienteering: Check that your coordinates are accurate.

It was still a schlep to get there, and a lot of climbing in my lowest gear. At the top, sweating, I met a double-layer, barbed wire fence ringing the entire compound.

The main entrance to the Teufelsberg spy station. At right, the truck of the private security firm hired to patrol the installation. At left, a washed out billboard advertising luxury condos that never were.

Not that a double-layer, barbed wire fence is enough to keep people out. Teufelsberg is the secret everyone knows about, and it's a popular attraction not only for the young, anti-establishment risk takers among us, but for just about everyone. Old and young, couples and families, I came across all kinds there for the same reason I was: curiosity, and something to do on a sunny Sunday.

There are holes in the fence. I didn't find any (I didn't look too hard), but I did see a security guard with the thankless task of patching one up. I spotted one man with his baby walking along the perimeter, inside the first fence and outside the second. Others I spotted in the tallest tower. More still I couldn't see, but could hear their ghostly voices echoing off the towers' hallow chambers.

I was satisfied from where I was, and the elevation gives you a remarkable view of an otherwise flatter-than-Kansas plain. I would have stayed for sunset, but didn't want to be biking down rocky trails at dusk, and across the city in the dark. It was time to go home, where more drama was waiting.

MINUTES AGO (video embedded): Riot police beat, restrain demonstrators in ugly moments of pro-Turkey demo

2011-10-23T19:09:00.005+02:00

When Kurdish militants killed Turkish soldiers last week, it could only have had a negative ripple effect here in Berlin, home to one of the largest Turkish communities in the world, as well as other immigrants from the region, including Kurds.

Tonight, passing through Kottbusser Tor -- a spot in Kreuzberg that could be easily dubbed "Little Istanbul" -- things got ugly. It is not the first time.

The embedded video below shows riot police beating and detaining two men who made it to a pedestrian walkway over the street. As the group of police struggle to restrain them, the men feverishly wave Turkish flags to the cheering, chanting, supportive crowd below.

The Joey's Pizza delivery scooters were the real losers here. Doubtful they got the order in under 30 minutes.

HP ePrint: The worst commercial out there right now

2011-10-23T02:21:00.002+02:00

There is nothing quite so scornful as being the discriminate victim of bad advertising. Fortunately, I have no TV and live in Germany, so I am out of the line of fire for a lot of it, but it is impossible to evade entirely.

There's just no excuse for subpar marketing nowadays, so sophisticated a media landscape we play in. Yet there it is, and it keeps on coming: boring, repetitive, confusing, annoying or devoid of any meaning whatsoever, leaving the viewer wondering what exactly it is we're supposed to go out and buy.

Or, in the case of HP's "happy baby" spot, all of the above. I am embedding it here with reservations, and caution readers to proceed at their own risk.

The ad, produced by Box Clever Marketing, opens in the desert with a baby speeding across it in his baby chair. The scenery changes quickly from country road to forest highway to downtown until the baby finally reaches home. Then the baby is coming out of a printer. And then the baby is back with his (I assume) parents in the mountains.

That's an awfully convoluted way of telling me that with HP ePrint, I can print to any compatible printer from anywhere else over WiFi. At least that's how I think it works, the commercial doesn't bother explaining it. Either way, like the TouchPad (R.I.P.), not really a revolutionary idea.

Ultimately, the ad takes a huge bellyflop because rather than getting me to think about all the awesome ways I could use this product -- and therefore just have to go out right now and buy it -- I'm thinking more of all the questions that have since popped into my head during the last 30 seconds. Questions like, Why is there a baby in a baby chair racing across the country? How can a baby chair go faster than a gas-powered vehicle? How long has the baby been traveling and where did he begin? Are his parents looking for him? Why is the baby exercising such poor judgment when changing lanes? What does traffic have to do with printing? Why has my printer spontaneously printed a picture of this baby during the course of viewing the commercial? It's not even HP!

Topping off this wallop of a fail is the song chosen to pair with it. It's "Brand New Key" by folk singer Melanie Safka, and it dates back to the early 70s. That's not the problem, of course. It's that Safka's voice reaches a pitch of that of a jumbo jet warming its engines on the tarmac. Her voice crawls under your skin to jostle every nerve, further distracting me from whatever it is I'm supposed to want.

Box Clever (though really the buck stops with HP) couldn't even get the easiest thing right: a cute baby. He's just kind of funny looking.

Habt ihr gehört? Nun twittere ich nur auf Deutsch!

2011-10-23T01:10:00.001+02:00

If the rest of this post is utterly meaningless to you, don't fret! You still have the whole of Multiple Reality Disorder to read and a Twitter feed @mediabard. You won't want to miss it!

Aber wenn du Deutsch sprichst, du kannst mir ab sofort bei Twitter folgen. Warum? Weil ich eine neues Twitter-Handle unter @hinundzuruck gestartet habe. Dort schreibe ich nur auf Deutsch.

Mit @hinundzuruck will ich mein Deutsch verbessern. Ich möchte sehr gerne, wenn du nicht nur folgst, aber korrigierst mich auch. Ich hoffe, dass das Spaß machen wird, und ich kann mehr Deutsch lernen.

Bestimmt ist das Deutsch-lernen in der 21. Jahrhundert. Also sehen wir uns bei Twitter!

Picture of the day: Sunrise coming late these days

2011-10-18T12:20:00.000+02:00

Just about 8 a.m. in Baumschulenweg. Soon lessons will start in the dark.

Photos (embedded) of Apulia, Italy

2011-10-18T01:08:00.001+02:00

HTML5-powered "dynamic views" come to MRD

2011-10-15T13:36:00.000+02:00

Dear (I assume) infrequent visitor,

If you've been to MRD before, you will no doubt notice a substantial change to how you get around. That's because I've applied Blogger's new dynamic views. They're built on HTML5, the new standard for browser-based applications. If that's already too techie for you, here are a few obvious things HTML5 gives you:

Cross-device compatibility: Easily, seamlessly and beautifully view MRD from desktop, laptop, and Android, Apple or any other mobile device (of course, iPhone/iPad users will still have trouble viewing flash-based content, such as photo slideshows).
Less clicking and fewer links: HTML5 offers the user a continuous flow of information. No longer do you need to jump from page to page. Just keep on scrolling and the stream of content will keep on coming.
Faster loading and less waiting: Content loads as you get to it. Why wait for images at the bottom of the page to fully load before you can read a post at the top?

Dynamic views provide the user with several viewing options. You can select these from the very top of the blog and right below the blog's masthead. I have selected "flipcard" as the default view, because I think it's pretty neat, but feel free to change to something you prefer. "Classic," "magazine" or "timeslide" are all nice way to browse content.

There are, of course, some downsides to dynamic views. You'll notice all the extra information -- Twitter feed, archive, about me, external links, etc. -- that used to be on the blog, mostly running down the right-hand sidebar, is gone. That's because Google hasn't yet updated these gadgets and widgets to function with HTML5, though the Blogger people there promise to have something for us soon.

Further customization has also been reduced for the time being. For example, I've chosen a grayish background. The masthead also happens to be gray, making it hard to see. I can't seem to change this.

In conclusion, the new design is just the beginning. More changes will present themselves, both as Blogger tweaks its system and broadens its functionality, and as I continue to learn how to make the most of what Blogger offers, and optimize what I write and how I present it on MRD.

Your feedback helps, so please send your comments on this and future changes. Please come back soon and often! It only gets better from here.

Picture of the day: PaperC at Frankfurt Book Fair

2011-10-13T15:49:00.000+02:00

Felix Hofmann, Martin Fröhlich, Christoph Harnoth (far right) and a funny looking guy representing PaperC at this year's Frankfurt Book Fair

Laziness and other distractions

2011-10-11T01:14:00.000+02:00

It's been pretty much a month since coming back from Italy, and I've pretty much run out of excuses for the sedentary pall that's come over this blog (and more or less my entire digital existence). For pete's sake, my Italy photos are still languishing largely unedited in their neat iPhoto event.

All I can say is the weather, until this very day in fact, has been singularly delightful to the point of being criminal should you have been found inside. The biggest of the big Jewish holidays have come and gone. My girlfriend had a birthday. My sister became an aunt. Facebook gave itself a makeover. Apple put out an underwhelming iPhone. Steve Jobs died the next day, once again proving cancer's resilience against wealth, privilege and tech savvy. Palestine wants to be a real state. The Euro is crashing. German unemployment dropped to 6.6 percent. In a single week, Berlin had a funny election, a visit from the Pope and a marathon. The Turkish president was also here about that time. Obama assassinated a U.S. citizen. Americans have finally joined the Greeks, British and Germans to protest things they don't like about the economy, and the people ruining it for their own enrichment. Postseason baseball is on, and I am just starting to come to terms with how much I have forsaken the sport after realizing I was totally unaware that the Red Sox had taken the Mets' title of worst-end-of-season-collapse. (I am currently in month-long therapy using the trusted MLB.tv method. May Joe Buck's reassuring voice and Ron Darling's insightful commentary give me strength.) I've started going for laps at the indoor pool near me. I'm off to the Frankfurt Book Fair tomorrow. I have improv auditions on Sunday. I almost forgot, I have a pretty full schedule of courses to teach.

At least my apartment building remains shrouded in scaffolding, a soothing reminder that not everything is in a rabid sprint towards infinity.

In the coming weeks, I have big plans for this blog. Changes to both design and content are coming. I think I am somewhere past half-way through a months' long rethink of what I want to do with my digital space, which is about as obtuse and concrete a way I can put it.

Bottom-line: stay tuned. Meanwhile, watch some baseball.