Flat Asses, Invisible Dobermans, and Other Matters of Negligible Importance

I have a flat ass. And it's wide. Flat and wide. This unfortunate and shocking revelation occurred while I trying on a shirt at C&A in Nürnburg this afternoon. Mind you, my ass is MUCH smaller than it was when I left home in April, but it's flatter than a pancake and not all that attractive. With all the stair and hill climbing I've done, I was hoping to develop a nice bubble shaped butt, but instead mine is flat and droopy rather like a souffle that's souffled (pronounciation is the key to this word: SOO-fuld). When I was a size 10/12 in college, for about 20 seconds, I had no rear end whatsoever and my pants drooped sadly in the back like a hot air ballon in need of a flame.

Dogs are popular in Germany. Generally speaking they are well behaved and travel everywhere with their human companions, even to restaurants and on the train. I frequently see people exercising their pets while on my walk in the countryside. Often they are unleashed, but hardly spare me a glance, much less chase after me. The other night, as I rounded the bend, I noticed a black and tan Doberman, standing silent and alert by the side of the road, looking in my direction. Not spotting an owner, I slowed down to a cautious crawl, waved my arms and hollered to see if the dog moved toward me. He didn't, but not feeling particularly confident, I stopped walking to jump up and down, whistling and calling like a crazy woman. Still no movement, so I crept hesitently forward on the opposite side of the road. As I neared the beast, I was surprised to see it wasn't a dog after all, but a break in the hedge which had been uncovered when the verge was mowed. The tan-colored "points" I'd seen were actually small brown branches now visible around the dark hole in the greenery. Now how foolish did I look jumping around and yelling at an invisible Doberman?

I am taking a gift to Maria when I return to Italy. I printed off and framed the picture of her daughter, Laura, in her white dress which I'd taken the night we went to dinner together. Since it's a gift, it felt right to wrap it in some pretty paper, so I walked to the card shop and bought a piece of thick, handmade, textured paper painted a dark and metallic shade of gray After purchasing tape, I walked back to the house to wrap my surprise and that's when the real fun began. The paper was difficult to fold neatly because it was so thick, however do not confuse "thick" with "sturdy". The darned stuff wanted to tear every time I folded it tightly over the bottom of the frame box, and the tape refused to stick to the silver paint. I used about 10 feet of tape to close the package and then wrapped it in a plastic bag to keep the paper secure. In spite of these precautions, I have a sinking feeling that when Maria takes it out of the bag it will be to find that the paper has affixed itself to the inside of the plastic bag and the plain box will be visible. A gift that unwraps itself...how novel!!!!

Trains run like clockwork here in Germany. In fact the schedule is so precise that the track that each train will arrive and depart from is printed up, and mounted behind glass at the train station. Now, it was a whole different story in Italy, where it is not at all unusual for trains to be late (and for busses not to show at all), which is probably a direct result of the fact that it can take 3 minutes and a crowbar to jimmy open the nonfunctioning train doors. I saw a lady in stilettos toss her cosmetic case, then herself, through a cracked window to make her connection in Florence once. At the main train station in Florence, Santa Maria Nouvella, throngs of hot and weary travelers mill around under the leader board, jockeying for position, while waiting for the track numbers to be posted, rather like the staring lineup at the Kentucky Derby.

German and Italian have both formal and informal verb forms. Informal verb forms are used between friends, family, and young people. So as not to offend anyone, I stick with the formal verb forms unless I am invited to do otherwise. This rule is not a strict as it used to be, but I'd rather err on the side of politeness. At the coffee shop this morning, I noticed the Italian man greeted me using the informal form of address, which invites me to do the same. There has been a subtle shift. I am not so much a stranger now.