Angelika Since I currently have a three-week semester break and can't spend all my time in the darkroom at the University of Berkeley (Figure 1 shows the mess that arises in the living room when I organize my works), I want to use this break to entertain you with some stories from everyday life in the "land of unlimited possibilities." I've noticed that we've never talked about the struggle (especially my struggle) with American measurement and weight units. As many of you might know, the metric system is not used here; instead, you encounter exotic units like "inches," "feet," "yards," "ounces," "gallons," etc. "Square inches" or "square feet" are particularly charming variations. It's also incomprehensible to us why exactly three "feet" should make a "yard." In everyday life, I simply have the problem that I have absolutely no idea what these measurements and weights represent. Even the question about my height can only be answered with a tired shrug. I can look it up on my driver's license: 5'8'', which is "5 feet, 8 inches," or 1.73 meters (Note from Michael: I think the lady is exaggerating a bit here).

Now you might be thinking that the whole thing can't be that difficult, since you just have to remember a few mnemonic devices for conversion. Far from it! To convert, you actually have to use more complicated mathematical operations. For example, you can convert "inches" to centimeters by multiplying the "inches" by 2.54. If you want to know what "ounces" are in grams, you have to multiply the "ounces" by 28.35. I tell you, it's madness! Admittedly, there are some units that are a bit easier to convert, like "feet" to meters (you have to divide by about 3); that's the only thing I can remember. By the way, don't be misled by the American "pounds" unit. Unfortunately, it doesn't correspond to our pound, as one might assume. It's either more or less. I've already forgotten which.

I also find it particularly amusing when Americans start dividing the "inch" into halves, quarters, or eighths and suddenly talk about a "quarter inch." This doesn't fit at all with the otherwise so practically minded American. In their language, any simplification is allowed, but they stick meticulously to the units of measurement. Only in some areas is the metric system already used (e.g., in medicine and aeronautics). Now, one last thing on this topic: Of course, temperature is not measured in Celsius but in Fahrenheit, which means I never know how warm it actually is. Water freezes here at 32 degrees. To convert Fahrenheit to Celsius, you first have to subtract 32 from the Fahrenheit and then divide by about 2. Makes sense, right? Good thing you can't rely on the weather forecast in San Francisco anyway. This is due neither to Fahrenheit nor Celsius, but simply to the fact that the weather can change by the minute. The "layered look" is therefore always recommended in San Francisco. Ah, at least you can rely on something.

Angelika And there's something else you have to deal with here in everyday life at every turn. I'm talking about "automated phone directories." By this, I don't mean automated services you can call to check the time, movie schedules, or the weather report, but rather the phenomenon you encounter here lately when you call certain government entities, like the city administration or the waterworks, but also banks, health insurance companies, large medical practices, airlines, cinemas, basically almost anything that isn't a private call.

When you do this, you don't immediately get a person on the line (as is hopefully still common in Germany) who can then connect you or give you an extension, but instead, you get an automated message informing you of the options available and prompting you to press certain numbers on your phone. Usually, it starts with the option to choose (at least here in California) the language in which you want to hear the whole mess, typically English or Spanish. When you call an airline, for example, you might hear the tinny voice saying: "If you want information about the arrival time of a plane, press 1. If you want to book a flight, press 2. If you want to cancel a flight, press 3. If you want to reconfirm a flight, press 4. If you want information about our frequent flyer program, press 5. If none of these apply to you, press the * key."

The problem is that you usually have to listen to everything, and you often forget which number you were supposed to press. No problem, because at the end, it always says: "If you want to hear this message again, press #." As if you'd have nothing else to do! Now you might be wondering if there's a trick to bypass the whole thing. There actually is. You can simply pretend that you don't have a touch-tone phone yet, and are still on one with a rotary dial, and with this, the connection would naturally break if you started dialing wildly. However, this trick doesn't save time either, because you usually end up on hold forever and have to listen to music before you finally get a person on the line. Besides, this trick probably won't work much longer because no one has rotary phones anymore. Since I'm sure that these "automated phone directories" will soon come to Germany as well, you now have something to look forward to.

Angelika And while we're having fun, I can think of another interesting little episode from American everyday life. One of the stereotypes that Germans are always associated with is that they have a bit of a cleanliness obsession and always carry a bottle of disinfectant with them (I'm exaggerating a bit). I'm not going to discuss whether this is actually true. I can only say that Americans are in no way inferior to this phenomenon in one respect, as they have a tremendous fear of bacteria and germs of all kinds, and this fear has led to some grotesque consequences.

It's not only considered polite to cancel an invitation (even among friends) if you have a cold, but you also don't blow your nose at the table; instead, you excuse yourself and do it at a discreet distance, preferably turned away from the table. In restaurants, this often means you really have to go to the restroom to blow your nose, as you're surrounded by people at the table. However, cutting your nails in public is completely okay, go figure!

Naturally, all sorts of products are sold here that kill bacteria. A disinfectant enthusiast would find America to be a true paradise. There are dishwashing liquids that kill bacteria, cleaning sprays that simultaneously wipe out every living germ on the continent (other health side effects can be safely ignored), and a type of hand cream designed solely to eliminate bacteria when you can't wash your hands. It feels like a new product comes out every week to help in the battle against bacteria. Recently, there's even a laundry detergent that kills 99.9% of bacteria (at least that's what the advertisement claims) and a dishwasher with an extra button to press that starts the mechanism to wage war against bacteria. The first time I saw the ad for this dishwasher, I was rolling on the floor laughing. The trick of just using super-hot water hasn't caught on here yet, so they tend to resort to chemical solutions, as environmental awareness is still somewhat lacking.

You might be thinking now that I'm taking quite a lot of liberties and that I have no right to criticize the American way of life. Rest assured, I am aware that every American who has ever been to Germany also has a thousand and one stories that have caused them great astonishment or amusement. We've had many laughs with our American friend Anne, who often visits Germany, when she starts to share her experiences from these trips with us. Speaking of foreigners' perceptions of Germany: there is a small book titled "Mein Deutschlandbild" ("My Image of Germany"), published by the German Academic Exchange Service (ISBN: 3-87192-688-4), in which foreigners who have studied in Germany for some time humorously and seriously describe their impressions of the country. It's a highly recommended read!

Angelika For a long time, I've wanted to talk about American cities. We've often reported that San Francisco, in many ways, is not the typical American metropolis, and those of you who have never been to America might find that a bit surprising. To get straight to the point: American cities (except for San Francisco, New York, New Orleans, Boston -- forgive me if I've forgotten a city) all look the same, meaning they are quite boring and monotonous. This is partly because they are all laid out like a grid, with miles of parallel streets that are usually numbered for simplicity. This design might be practical, but it also leads to monotony.

In American cities, you typically find skyscrapers with offices in downtown (city center) and, if you're lucky, a huge shopping mall. You search in vain for nice little cafes or shops and a marketplace. Surrounding downtown, connected by many highways, are residential areas, which are usually designed according to a pattern: single-family homes with double garages and, again, shopping malls. You search in vain for a corner bakery. To go shopping at the mall, you naturally have to use a car. What I find particularly dreadful is that these shopping malls are almost entirely made up of chains, meaning that no matter which American city you're in, it's the same stores that generally look exactly the same (inside and out).

The chain phenomenon even extends to chain restaurants. A well-known chain is "Olive Garden," which serves Italian food. Perhaps that's why Americans move so often, because despite changing locations, everything stays the same, at least in terms of the city's appearance. San Francisco and New York stand out because they break away from this monotony and uniformity, with many small neighborhoods that have their own unique character (e.g., Chinatown or the Mexican district of San Francisco, the "Mission"). Here, you find unique restaurants, small boutiques, and shops that are still privately owned and haven't been swallowed by a chain, as well as independent bookstores or newsstands. To keep it this way, strong neighborhood associations have formed in San Francisco, trying by all means to prevent chains from settling in their neighborhoods. Unfortunately, they don't always succeed, as rents in San Francisco are currently so high that only chains can afford them.

This trend, for example, led to our beloved "Bakers of Paris," which sold the world's best croissants, having to throw in the towel. Truly sad! By the way, if you want to identify yourself as a true San Francisco resident, you must avoid the coffeehouse chain "Starbucks." "Starbucks" originally comes from Seattle and started very small. Nowadays, there's a "Starbucks" on every other corner. It must be noted positively that "Starbucks" has managed to make good coffee, cappuccino, espresso, etc., available in America. And anyone who, like me, loves their cup of coffee and has had to endure the extremely watery coffee (1 coffee bean per liter of water and kept warm for at least an hour) that was common everywhere ten years ago knows what I'm talking about. Nevertheless, as a San Franciscan (unless you're traveling and there's nothing else), you don't go to "Starbucks," but to the independent coffee houses based in San Francisco (e.g., "Martha"). It should be noted in passing that the boycott also has to do with the fact that "Starbucks" originally comes from Seattle, and the Seattle-San Francisco relationship is roughly like that of Northern Germany vs. Bavaria. Well! Of course, I know that the described chain phenomenon has long since entered German cities. Therefore, I can only advise every city planner or chain lover: If you want to see a deterrent example of a totally American city, go to San Jose, an hour's drive south of San Francisco.

Angelika And since I'm in the mood today to address quintessentially American phenomena (after all, in our last newsletter, I shared my impressions from my visit to Germany), I must write about the massacre in which 16 people lost their lives, carried out by two teenagers using firearms at an American high school in Littleton. This incident caused a real uproar across the country, likely because it wasn't an isolated case; such often more or less planned shootings have sadly become a part of everyday life at American high schools. Following Littleton, there were several incidents where students in other U.S. cities went to school armed and shot indiscriminately, injuring people--so-called copycats. After the Littleton incident, the American media feverishly searched for the causes of this increase in violence, digging up everything from the decline in values, the internet, the portrayal of violence in the media, overwhelmed parents, and the easy access to weapons.

It should be mentioned in passing that while all reporters condemned excessive portrayal of violence in the media, they relentlessly showed images of blood-covered teenagers or mercilessly interviewed completely shocked students. Or President Clinton tearfully mourned the victims of the shooting in a speech, while at the same time, CNN displayed which targets in Kosovo had been successfully bombed. This is what one might call first-class double standards. I am firmly convinced that the increase in the propensity for violence among children and adolescents is a worldwide phenomenon (at least in most industrialized nations), and the causes are certainly multifaceted. However, I am always fascinated by how lightly the arming of teenagers in the USA is taken and how deeply rooted the belief is that everyone has the right to own a firearm, even though teenagers are disproportionately often victims of gun violence: Teenagers up to 15 years old in the USA have up to twelve times the risk of being killed by a gun compared to children in the 25 most industrialized countries combined. Additionally, the gun industry lobby in America is about as powerful as the automotive industry in Germany. Naturally, after the Littleton incident, there is renewed discussion about tightening gun laws, but it tends to focus more on the details (e.g., raising the minimum age from 18 to 21 or making access to certain types of weapons more difficult) rather than challenging the fundamental right to own firearms. In America, it has become easier for a teenager to buy a gun than cigarettes or alcohol.

So much for serious topics -- Ring free for the jokester Michael: "Shall we let him in??? Let him in! Toot toot toot..."

Michael An old computer geek like me naturally has to keep his hardware constantly up to date, so I recently bought a CD burner. Yawn, yawn, the computer whizzes among you will say, I've had one of those for five years! Sure, sure, but only recently did the devices drop below the $300 mark, and I just had to jump on it. A CD burner is a device that allows you to make your own music CDs--just like back in your student days when you compiled your favorite songs and recorded them onto a cassette using a recorder. Today, you insert a blank CD (cost: about a dollar) into a CD burner, use a computer program to read tracks from your favorite discs, and then let the computer burn the CD. It uses a laser beam to "burn" the data onto the blank CD. Afterwards, you have a CD that's just as good as one from the store--only with songs you've compiled yourself.

The purchase, however, was associated with some obstacles, because I naturally ordered with a credit card from an online store -- since it's cheaper and you don't have to pay sales tax -- which sent the package by mail. After unpacking and installing the burner from Yamaha, it turned out that the CDs produced with the burner had errors. What to do? A call to Yamaha, and the guys there told me to exchange the item. But how do you exchange something that you didn't buy in a store, but from an online retailer? A call there, and I got an ROM number (Return-of-Merchandise), which I wrote on the cardboard box I had kept, and sent the whole thing back to the virtual store, which promptly credited the amount back to my credit card. Then the process started all over again: This time I decided on a burner from another company (HP), ordered again online, and when the UPS man brought the package to the front door, the joy was great, because the CDs produced were of excellent quality, and now I burn day and night!

Michael Now to recreational sports. For two and a half years, with one exception--when Angelika's brother Bernd visited with Julian and we played soccer in Dolores Park--I haven't played soccer. So I was pleased to hear that there is a soccer team at Netscape. The email system there has a special distribution list, soccer@netscape.com (soccer is what they call football in America), where people arrange during the day to kick around on a nearby field in the evening--quite extraordinary in soccer-hostile America, where mainly baseball (the one with the wooden bat and the small ball and the people standing around on the field chewing huge pieces of gum) and American football (the one with people in armor-like costumes and helmets fighting over an egg-shaped ball) are popular, and at most some immigrant Mexicans can play soccer reasonably well. The rest couldn't even score a penalty on an empty goal. Just like in Germany, no one knows how many strikes the hitter is allowed in baseball before he's "out." Or do they? Does anyone among our educated newsletter readers actually know? The creme de la creme of German intellectuals (ahem!)?

ATTENTION: Starting today, each newsletter will include a question to test your knowledge of America and distinguish "Heroes" from "Zeroes." Whoever answers it correctly first (there are two categories: email and regular mail) will receive the announced prize and, of course, be mentioned by name in the next newsletter. Today's question is: After how many strikes is the hitter "out" in baseball if he doesn't hit the ball? Heads are smoking... the lucky winner will receive this time... drum roll... brrr... brrrrrrr... kschhhhhh!: A CD compiled according to individual personal taste! Depending on who wins, either Angelika ("Schmusi-Schmusi") or Michael ("Pow! Pow! Pow!") will take care of the compilation, and the winner will be in seventh heaven! Write in masses! And remember: Time is running out--only the first email and the first mail submission will score!

Michael As already reported, I am now working in the hallowed halls of Netscape, but to preempt any panic rumors ("What, has the boy switched again? Oh my!"), let it be said: Only the packaging is changing. AOL has bought Netscape, and I remain employed by AOL, just working in a new environment and on a new project. Otherwise, nothing changes!

On the so-called Netscape Campus (modeled after a university campus), there are 25 buildings, several basketball courts, a beach volleyball field (with sand), showers in every building, and hot tubs (large bathtubs with hot water). During lunch breaks, aerobics classes are offered, as well as golf seminars and kickboxing.

A mobile oil change service person comes by and changes the oil in your car if you let them know. There are concierges (a term from the hotel world, where there are sometimes people who run small errands) at Netscape who can handle the most impossible tasks: getting concert tickets, shopping for gifts, booking trips, finding rare books or records. At the introductory event, a story was told about a manager who could never remember birthdays. He simply gave the concierges a list of his acquaintances' names, birthdays, and preferred gifts, and the ladies there reliably sent out a gift by mail for each occasion--and the manager received an email confirmation each time. I'll do that too! Haha, just kidding. The goal of these efforts is, of course, to keep all the annoying stuff away from the employees--so they can diligently tap away on their computers. Incidentally, I recently read, amusingly, that the divorce rate in Silicon Valley is the highest in the world at 68%!

Back to Netscape: Bringing dogs to the office is explicitly allowed, probably because Marc Andreessen (one of the founders of Netscape, extremely wealthy, and now Chief Technology Officer of AOL, a mere 27 years old) has a few dogs himself. Recently, early in the morning, as I was sitting in my cubicle (partitioned square in the open-plan office) tinkering on my computer, something suddenly scurried under my feet--it was a small dog that had escaped from a colleague, who came running and apologized profusely. "Don't worry, that's okay," I naturally said. By the way, at Netscape, no one has a private office--everyone works in a cubicle, even the big shots who are now billionaires. Of course, this has the disadvantage that you can hear everything when someone is on the phone, but it's fun. Recently, there was a commotion around my cubicle, everyone was laughing and cheering, so I stood up and saw that four people had bought small toy guns and were firing soft Styrofoam balls at each other from their cubicles, only to quickly take cover behind the partitions. You see, I'm fitting in well; I've always been good at being childish.

So, my dear friends, that's it for today! Don't forget the quiz question if you want to win a personal CD. The question again: After how many strikes is the hitter "out" in baseball if they don't hit the ball? Write it down quickly, time is running out! Until next time! Hasta la vista!

Michael and Angelika