Ikea, Finally

A line of people had formed in front of the entrance. To prevent people from trampling each other inside, they were only allowed in small groups, and only when some left the store, others were allowed to move in. The waiting time was about one to two hours--just to get into the store. That was too silly for us, so we drove home, planning to return a few weeks later when the excitement would have subsided a bit.

This time, we just managed to find a parking spot, immediately entered the store, and strolled through the aisles. Ikeas look the same all over the world: upstairs is for furniture displays, you mentally select what you want, and then pick it up downstairs. Once downstairs, instead of the selected piece of furniture, you find a red note on the corresponding shelf indicating that the item is out of stock. Frustrated, you buy a 100-pack of tea lights. The Ikea in Oakland, however, took it a step further: when we got downstairs, we only saw completely empty shelves--I was reminded of a visit to a department store in East Berlin in the mid-80s! Frustrated, we didn't even buy a 100-pack of tea lights but rather a useless little wooden box with drawers that were far too small, and we drove home.

The local press has already taken up the topic of "Ikea"--in an article in the San Francisco Examiner.

Meanwhile, the local press has taken on the subject, the a story in the San Francisco Examiner suggested to simply sell tickets in front of the entrance to at least make it look like a museum visit if no furniture could be found.

Bay to Breakers

Michael As every year, the "Bay to Breakers" city run took place in May, and your esteemed narrator participated, continuing on a developing tradition. This has already been reported in the newsletter, but since one particular newsletter reader, whom I won't name here (Günter Speckhofer, the editor), recently asked again what "Bay to Breakers" actually means, here are the facts once more: It's a fun race from the San Francisco Bay in the east, across the city to the ocean in the west (Breakers are the incoming waves), with 70,000 people participating. Many compete in costumes or in groups, and the streets are closed off.

The old Rundbrief 06/1999 you can look up on the internet, by the way. This year, I ran at an easy pace and finished with a time of 01:25:37, placing 8,151st out of 52,356 runners who reached the finish line. 01:25:37 is still not impressive for 9 miles, but you have to account for a waiting time of about 15 minutes at the start line. That's how long it took for the crowd of 70,000 people to start moving from the spot where I was.

As always, the whole race is of course documented online. Race management has published the this link: Just type "Schilli" into the search box labeled "How'd I do?" and there you go. You can also see that Reuben Cheruiyot from Kenia was even faster: It took himt only 34 minutes and 54 seconds, and that landed him the number one spot.

Also, recently, I read a book by German Minister of Foreign Affairs Joschka Fischer, titled "Mein langer Lauf zu mir selbst", in which he boasts that in 1998, he ran the Hamburg marathon in 3:41:36. Now, a marathon is 26 miles, and I ran 9 miles, so this makes his 9 mile time, crunch, crunch, 01:03:01. What, the old man is faster than I am? Outrageous! Wait until I'm 50 ...

How To Speak American with the Pros

US Basket of Goods and Services

Michael We've been living abroad for almost four years now! Every time visitors from Germany arrive here in San Francisco, we become aware of this fact. I think that about 20 people visited us this summer -- let's see if I can remember them all: (Günter, Thomas & Helmut & Konrad, Matthias, Fritz & Traudl, Ursel & Peter, Heinz & Ursel & Bernd & Julian & Yves-Ole, Susanne, Christian, Markus).

A popular ongoing topic among German tourists is, of course, complaining about the rather high dollar exchange rate! Oh, how expensive the goods are! We've noticed that we have no idea anymore what these things actually cost in Germany. That's why today we have put together a newsletter shopping basket: typical items and services and what you pay for them in San Francisco (as of June 1, 2000). For some things, your jaw will surely drop:

Item/Service	USD	DM (Exchange Rate 2.09)
1 Liter of Milk	1.33	2.78
1 Liter of good (microbrew) beer (supermarket)	4.00	8.36
500g Emmenthaler Cheese	8.87	18.54
1 Hamburger at McDonalds as a special	0.29	0.61
1 Rental Car per day including insurance	50.00	104.50
1 Burrito at a Mexican takeout	5.00	10.45
1 Sandwich at the deli counter	4.00	8.36
1 Pack of cigarettes	4.50	9.40
1 Bottle of somewhat drinkable wine	10.00	20.90
1 Porsche Boxter with extras	48000.00	100320.00
30 pack of Twix	12.00	25.08
1 Liter of regular gasoline	0.48	1.00
1 car wash (inside and out)	12.00	25.08
1 Lunch at an affordable Chinese restaurant per person	5.00	10.45
1 reasonably priced dinner per person	20.00	41.80
1 very expensive dinner per person	100.00	209.00
Monthly rent of a 2-bedroom apartment in our neighborhood	2000.00	4180.00
Cheap motel room in San Francisco	85.00	177.65

What Germans Do Wrong in America

Michael Now to our new section: What Germans always do wrong in America. They sit down in a restaurant, and when the waiter comes and asks what they would like to order, they say, "I take the steak." Aaah! This immediately reveals the person ordering as a German tourist, because Americans say, "I'll have the steak, please." At the latest, this is when the waiter starts whispering with their colleagues and rolling their eyes, because Germans don't have a good reputation in the American dining scene. The reason: In Germany, there's a 5% tip, at most, while in America, the waiter expects at least 15%, and in better restaurants, even 20%.

The German groans: Oh dear, oh dear, the high dollar exchange rate! And in San Francisco, a meal for two in a fairly normal restaurant can quickly cost 50 dollars. Then giving an additional 8 to 10 dollars as a tip really hurts the German's wallet. What he doesn't consider, however, is that the waiter works for minimum wage and earns his income from tips. Unlike in Germany, where every server is legally covered by pension, health, and social insurance, people here usually have to pay for their insurance out of their own pocket. To withhold a tip from a waiter just because one is too stingy is considered a mortal sin; an American would never do that, it would be like taking a beggar's hat away.

Out of ignorance or stubbornness, many German tourists behave inappropriately, leaving only a few dollars as a tip and ruining the server's day. This behavior has now led to waitstaff in tourist centers immediately adding a 15% surcharge to the bill when they hear German being spoken at the table--too many bad experiences with guests from Germany. Therefore, folks, when you're here in the USA, do me a favor: adapt to the local customs and leave a good tip. Don't use the freedom that the restaurant gives you to shortchange the people who work there.

That's why today we're going to go over how to enter a restaurant in America, order, eat, and then pay with a credit card or cash. You walk in, and there's usually a "Maitre d'" who assigns you a seat -- you only seat yourself in student cafes. He/she might ask something like "How are you today?", to which you respond with something like "I'm pretty good, thank you!" To the question "How many?" you answer "Party of two" if there are two of you, and respectively "three," "four," etc. if there are three or four of you. "Two for lunch" or "Two for dinner" also works for lunch or dinner. Then you're led to the table, sit down, and receive the menu.

When the waiter comes back shortly after, they will ask something like "Have you had a chance to decide yet?" to see if you're ready to order. If you're not ready yet because translating the menu is taking a bit longer, you simply say "Sorry, we're gonna need a couple of minutes." However, you can already order something to drink. If there's no beer on the menu, you ask "What kind of beer do you have on tap?" to find out what draft beers are available. By the way, in America, there's almost always beer available, even at the fanciest luxury Italian restaurant, even if it's not always on the menu. As always in America: Always ask, never be shy. The server might also ask if you're interested in the "Specials," usually dishes that are particularly fresh or recommended today. If you say "Sure!", they will immediately list them, and you have to pay attention to catch everything. If you decide on one of the "Specials" or something from the menu, you order your stuff with the previously covered "I'll have" phrase -- done.

When the food arrives, the server usually asks if you would like anything else, such as ketchup, Parmesan cheese (often pronounced pseudo-Italian as "Parmashan" with nasal sounds more commonly found in French), or freshly ground pepper ("fresh pepper"), and then you may start eating. After a few minutes, the server comes by again and asks, "Everything okay?" to which you naturally respond, if everything is good, "Excellent!"

So, now for the payment. Usually, the waiter comes by and asks, "Can I get you anything else?" If you respond with "No, thanks, we're just fine," they usually bring the bill without further ado. Sometimes, in more affordable establishments, the server will place the bill on the table without being asked and say, "Whenever you're ready." This is not meant to be impolite; it's standard practice there. You can more clearly ask for the bill by saying, "Could you get us the check, please?" This has nothing to do with a "check" as in a bank check; it's simply what Americans call the bill. If you learned "bill" in school, you'll quickly forget it, as that's British and frowned upon.

And soon the server will come by with a small tray or folder containing the bill. If you're paying by credit card, which is common, you simply place your card on the tray or in the folder, with a bit of it sticking out so the waiter can see it when they pass by next. When they see the card sticking out, they take the tray/folder, charge the amount to the credit card, and then return it, this time with a so-called credit card slip, a small receipt like the one you see in Figure 10.

Only now is the tip entered. In Figure 10, you can see that our bill was $32.39. 15% of that would be $4.86, but since I'm not stingy, I entered $5.50 in the "Tip" field. Then everything is added up, and $37.89 is the total amount. Since you probably don't always have a calculator with you, here's a rule of thumb: divide the bill amount by 6, and you'll get a good tip. In this case, $32.39 doesn't divide exactly by 6, but since 5 * 6 = 30 and 6 * 6 = 36, you're safe with 5.50. Then quickly sign -- and you're done! As proof for later, you should definitely keep the copy of the receipt, which is usually yellow, while the original receipt for the restaurant is white. Sometimes the original says "Merchant Copy" and the copy says "Customer Copy," as shown in Figure 11. You don't need to sign it, as it's just for you, but to Angelika's dismay, I always use the receipt to practice my most flamboyant signatures. But I digress.

Are you ready? You don't have to wait for the waiter to come back; you simply leave the receipt on the tray, get up, and leave the restaurant. It's that simple!

One more thing: A common mistake is writing ones on the bill with a serif, as is common in Germany. However, over there they also write sevens with a crossbar, which Americans do not do. This is particularly critical on credit card statements, as "1"s written in the German style can be interpreted by Americans as sevens. In Figure 11, you can see how the seven in the amount of $37.89 is written without a crossbar -- this is the usual practice here. It looks surprisingly like a German one, doesn't it? So, if you mean 'one,' please just write a vertical line. Figure 12 illustrates this again. It shows a letter I once received that miraculously arrived, even though letters addressed in this way are lost 90% of the time, as experience has shown. Also, the apartment number is not 16, but 6. This usually means the end of the road for the letter, as the mail carrier does not pay attention to the nameplates on the mailbox; it is purely based on house number and apartment number. If either is missing, the letter immediately goes into the trash bin; there is no investigation like with the German postal service.

In Figure 12, all the ones are written with a serif -- they are interpreted by Americans as sevens, and the house number 7765 simply doesn't exist on Church Street. Figure 13 shows how it's done correctly: ones are just vertical lines, which the mail carrier can read without any problems.

One more thing: It is completely impossible to pay the bill separately in a restaurant. The server has no idea who had what and will not go around to find out, as is common in Germany. However, what you can do is simply put in, for example, two credit cards and ask if it would be possible to split the bill. Each person must then enter their tip on their slip separately. Another option is to pay in cash and pool the money, the easiest way being to divide the total amount by the number of people present. Saying, "But I only had a small salad and you had the 2-pound rib-eye steak!" and calculating proportionally is considered stingy, but you have to work that out among yourselves. You should always just order the most expensive dish, then you'll be on the safe side.

I still need to catch up on how to pay with cash: You also ask for the "check" here, and when the little folder/tray comes, there are two options again: Either you have the exact amount including (!) the pre-calculated tip ready. Then you place the exact amount, stand up, and leave. Really, you can leave the establishment immediately; the server will only check your bills after you are out on the street. If necessary, they will come running after you, don't worry.

If you don't have the exact change, just put in enough large bills to cover the bill plus a tip. This is an excellent method to get rid of the large 50 and 100 bills that German banks like to give to tourists, which they then can't use anywhere because hardly any store accepts bills larger than 20. However, restaurants take everything because they can check the bills behind the scenes. Then the server comes back, and if they don't immediately understand what's going on, you simply ask, "Can we get some change, please?" They will take the tray/pouch with the large bills and bring back change according to the bill amount. But be careful: no tip has been included yet. But of course you've already calculated this beforehand, and now you only take as much of the change as needed to leave the exact tip you calculated, place it in the pouch/tray, stand up, and leave. Why did I say earlier that you should put in enough money to cover the bill plus (!) the tip? Exactly, so that you have the necessary small change to leave the tip. Otherwise, you might find out afterward that you don't have enough, have to ask again, and that's dumb. It doesn't matter if the bills far exceed the bill amount or if there's even an extra bill in there. For example, if the bill is 36 dollars, but you only have three twenties, just put in the three twenties -- the servers are smart enough to give you back 24 dollars in change in small enough denominations so you can leave a 6 dollar tip.

In remote areas or very simple pubs, it might be the case that you have to pay at the register. In that case, the server brings the bill, you get up, take it to the register, pay the bill amount without (!) a tip, return to the table, and leave the tip on the table. Whether you pay at the register in a restaurant or the server takes care of it, you can easily find out by observing the other guests or simply asking for the bill and waiting half an hour for the server. Then it's pretty certain!

Since I'm already on the topic: How does paying work in a bar? Usually, one person goes to the counter, gets drinks for everyone, and pays in cash immediately. You get your change back right away, and you leave a little bit as a tip, around 10% or so. Ordering and paying for beer separately is uncommon; it's considered "Dutch," as in Dutch treat. I have no idea why, but that's not what Americans do. Someone always buys a round.

I hope you're not thinking now, "My God, the old man is completely out of his mind!" Your intrepid newsletter reporter has spent years exploring restaurants and pubs in all areas of America, from Texas to Chicago, from Miami to Seattle, to share this knowledge with you today and ensure that you get by well everywhere!

Clickety-clack and Thump!

Michael Angelika discovered during her photography courses that traditional SLR cameras do not deliver the image quality that she envisions, ahem, ahem. In fact, there are so-called medium format cameras, whose negatives are 6 by 6 (or 6 by 7, depending on the model) centimeters in size, which is about four times the area of conventional film. This results in double the resolution are of stunning image quality -- however, the cameras for this are quite bulky and expensive. But in San Francisco, there are camera shops where you can rent such a camera for little money over the weekend, and that's what we did when we recently went down to San Luis Obispo (about halfway between San Francisco and Los Angeles) for a long weekend.

First, there was a Mamiya 7, a bulky rangefinder camera that's about twice the size of a regular SLR and has a 6 by 7 centimeter negative. And on the next trip to the "Lassen Volcanic National Park," it was a Hasselblad 503, which I affectionately call "Otzen." You know, those brick-sized cameras from Sweden that you look into from above. To load the film, you have to carefully study the manual, then press various levers, turn screws, and maneuver film spools back and forth. It hardly takes less than 5 minutes. A roll of film has only 12 pictures. The film is wound after each picture with an old-fashioned crank on the side of the camera, which you turn in a circle like a barrel organ.

When you press the shutter release, the camera makes a dull sound that can be heard within a 50-meter radius and sounds like Mike Tyson punching a sandbag. Every professional has such a camera, and if you look closely next time when Karl Lagerfeld's new collection is being photographed, you will see one of these black boxes with chrome-flashing edges in the photographer's hand. An assistant will be busily occupied with loading new film and handing the photographer cameras always loaded with fresh film. Angelika tirelessly carried the heavy piece on our hikes and took photos diligently. Once, when Angelika was busily handling the separate light meter and the hefty camera in the national park, a tourist actually asked if she was a geologist. Haha! Make way for Angelika!

Angelika So, now I want to have my say as well. Michael has already mentioned my tireless efforts to find a suitable medium format camera for myself. No purchase decision has been made yet, but I'm working on it. In addition to testing cameras, I've also learned last semester how to develop and enlarge color images myself. Color and black-and-white photography are quite different. With color, in addition to the fact that the color balance must be perfect, there's the added difficulty that you can't work under red light, but only in complete darkness. After some practice, I managed to handle things in the dark quite well and proudly brought home my first color enlargements.

Yes, and I also sold my first black-and-white photo. I received a smooth $200 (including matting) for it, even though I only asked for $120. And Michael just can't understand how someone would voluntarily pay more. But the buyer simply felt that my photo was worth that much to her. Yay!!!

Adventure with a Dishwasher

Angelika And I want to report on another groundbreaking event. After almost four years, we bought a dishwasher. Now, you might not find this too exciting, but I tell you, anyone who knows how much Michael and I hate washing dishes, and anyone who has visited us and experienced firsthand how the dishes pile up, and had to join in the dishwashing routine, will not only be happy for us but will thank us on their knees. Hey, stop the eye-rolling and gossiping. Now comes the funny part of the story. In our kitchen, it is impossible to install a dishwasher because the cabinets next to the sink are built in such a way that they can't be moved even a centimeter. This, by the way, seems to be a very common problem in American rental apartments, because there are rolling dishwashers available for purchase.

Maybe you can't quite imagine it, but as the name suggests, you roll the dishwasher up to the sink, connect its hose to the faucet, and off you go. This is, of course, not the most elegant solution in the world, as the machine then stands right in the way, and in our case, since our kitchen is so small, you can't reach the refrigerator or any cabinets when it's in operation. Yes, go ahead and laugh, I also wonder on a daily basis how it can be that in the land of unlimited possibilities, one sometimes feels transported back to the Stone Age, but we will put up with anything as long as we don't have to wash dishes anymore. By the way, we got the machine through Michael's colleague and friend Greg. He moved from Mountain View to San Francisco and, lo and behold, his new apartment already had a built-in dishwasher. So he offered to sell us his rolling one. Since he assured us that it is quiet and doesn't shake the whole house (that was our fear that had kept us from buying one before--you know, we live in a wooden house and the neighbor below us is a nagging goat), we are now proud owners of a dishwasher again. HURRAY!!!

The San Francisco Rental Market