Michael And here is the sensation! The two intrepid newsletter reporters have boarded a plane, got off the same eleven hours later, and suddenly found themselves in a parallel universe called "Munich"! While Angelika makes this trip almost every year, I actually hadn't been to Germany for a full four years. I tell you, it was a culture shock of the highest order.

The first thing I noticed were the green and white police cars. I felt like I was in a TV movie from the 60s or 70s, like "Monaco Franze" or "Münchner G'schichten." On the drive from Munich Airport to rural Augsburg ourskirts, I couldn't stop laughing at the most ridiculous things: signs with the word "Fremdenzimmer" (guest rooms), for example. Or the fact that traffic lights are generally positioned on the part of the intersection where you come to a halt, so if you're the first at the red light, you practically have to twist your neck to see if it finally changes. The pedestrian lights with little figures instead of the "Walk" and "Don't Walk" signs! You're probably thinking I'm completely crazy, but after four years, you really reprogram your brain quite a bit.

Just like "Wait to be seated" has become ingrained in me. At the restaurant "Die Ecke" in Augsburg, I stood at the entrance, waiting until the staff would assign me a seat, but fortunately, Angelika quickly pointed out to me that in Germany, even in fine establishments, you seat yourself at a random table.

If Rudi opens a pub, it's called Rudi's Pub. The pet food store is called Kira's Pet World. Aaahhh! That's a genitive "s" and is added without an apostrophe in proper German! So: Rudis Kneipe. Kiras Futterwelt. But Max Goldt once wrote that one shouldn't nitpick about other people's spelling, as that would be arrogant, and I don't certainly don't want to be that guy.

You are probably wondering if I had any difficulties with the language. Actually, there was one incident. On the Lufthansa flight from San Francisco to Munich, the German stewardess asked me if I wanted another beer. Since I had been speaking English with my seat neighbor until then, I wanted to say "No thanks, I'm fine!" but translated it too hastily and cheerfully exclaimed, "Danke, mir geht's gut!" ("Thanks, I'm doing well!") -- to which the stewardess burst out laughing and exclaimed, "That's nice to hear!" because I had already had a beer and was a bit tipsy! Oh yes, it was nice.

The weather was amazing -- after initially dumping 20cm of snow, which then melted and was followed by rain, we finally had three days of fantastic Föhn (warm alpine wind) weather. In Munich, we sat outside for an hour at a cafe in the pedestrian zone, squinting into the sun!

And how good is the beer there! Augustiner, Andechser, and the Kellerbier from the Unionsbräu in Munich -- oh my, that was delicious! I had completely forgotten, had thought that American microbrews were comparable. In short: They are not. Not even close. The brewers here in the USA still have a lot to learn!

The famous German bread didn't really impress me, as heavy bread isn't really my thing, and I've always preferred white bread. And in San Francisco, there are excellent bakeries that bake my favorite bread, the Italian "Ciabatta," super crispy and even sell it in our supermarket!

I had completely forgotten how densely populated the residential areas in Munich are! In America, everyone lives in bungalows; there are no five-story apartment buildings made of stone anywhere. And in San Francisco, I've gotten used to individual styles -- one person paints their house purple, another hangs out a rainbow flag, and a third has a funny sign in the window, whereas Munic is rather drab. However, I remembered Germany as being much cleaner as I found it to be on this trip. I always chuckle to myself in San Francisco when old newspaper scraps are blowing through the streets and constantly tell my colleagues that in Germany you could eat off the ground, because the streets are swept so thoroughly -- and what do I find? Everything is totally neglected! Potholes in the Middle Ring in Munich! Soon, newspaper scraps will be blowing through the alleys in Laim too, and I'll laugh and shout: "I know this already, I don't need it, I already saw it back in San Francisco!".

The most difficult thing was, of course, the BSE. I had already dreamed of Weißwurst and Leberkäs, and then I couldn't eat any of it! Well, at Max's place he served were excellent turkey white sausages that tasted like the real thing. Even McDonald's now has a pork burger called the "McFarmer." On the Lufthansa flight, we were offered "beef from Argentina." In Munich, I ate roast pork with dumplings twice because of this, once at Unionsbräu and once at Forsthaus Wörnbrunn. By the way, I wanted to add that my hairdresser Paolo from Friedenheimer Straße in Munich, whom I naturally visited, knows the chef from "Forsthaus Wörnbrunn," Andi Geitel, because he used to play soccer with him! So the circle closes.

The strong dollar "goes a long way" in Germany. When you compare food prices at German restaurants, you end up paying almost half as much. And CDs are really cheap, too! On sale, they cost 20 Marks, while in the USA, you can't find anything for less than $12.99. I stocked up generously on "Haindling," "Eros Ramazzotti," "Modern Talking," "Dschingis Khan," "Falco," and compilations of traditional music to give my colleagues at work something to smile about. Lev, a Russian at Netscape, had previously told me that he was really into the 70s hit "Moskau" by Dschingis Khan: When I handed him the CD, he was almost beside himself with joy!

But the gasoline! My jaw dropped when I had to shell out 80 Marks for a full tank. That would have only cost 20 dollars in America. I also noticed many small cars like the "Smart" on German roads -- something I haven't seen in America yet.

Driving skills! I was absolutely amazed at the high level at which Germans drive. No one changes lanes on the highway without looking or signaling, no one suddenly stops in the middle of the street for inexplicable reasons, and no one makes any major mistakes. According to cautious estimates by the newsletter editorial team, about 20% of Americans would never pass a German driving test, even after approximately 1,200 hours of tutoring. How smoothly traffic flows on German roads! Americans, on the other hand, lives by the principle: "Oops, here I come!" And if they're hitting the brake for no reason, they don't care at all if someone behind them has to hit their brake as well and stop because of it.

In our neighborhood in San Francisco, there are already signs everywhere that make double parking punishable by a $100 fine -- but people still do it. This is, by the way, a general American phenomenon that also applies in other social situations: Even in the longest lines at the supermarket, Americans still take their sweet time to leisurely dig out their stupid credit card from their wallet or laboriously write a check for a $5 bill. Or casually order dessert in a restaurant while crowds of people are waiting at the door.

Cigarette vending machines! In America, anyone who wants to buy cigarettes anywhere must show an ID and prove they are at least 18/21 years old (depending on the state). In Germany, anyone who is tall enough to insert 6 marks can operate the vending machine!

What I found really pleasant was how polite the sales staff in Germany suddenly have become. I remembered that quite differently. From the small bakery to the cashiers in the big department stores -- people are now exceptionally friendly. Or service in restaurants! Until now, I had always complained about the "service wasteland" of Germany in newsletters, but now I take it all back and claim the opposite. Respect, respect!

Shopping in Munich is even more fun when you live in the USA, because you don't have to pay Germany's value-added tax (VAT). The easiest way to do this is as follows: First, you pay the full price including VAT in the store and receive a confirmation called "Tax Free" for the purchase price. Before your flight back to the States, you go to the customs office at the airport, present proof that you reside in the USA, and then receive about 12% back in cash (not the full 16%, as the rest is a processing fee). If you return to Germany within a year, or know someone who can visit the store, you can opt for an "Export Certificate" from the store instead of the "Tax Free" process. You present the certificate at the airport customs before departure, have it stamped, and then you can collect the full 16% in cash at the store within a year. In both cases, you must present a departure ticket and the goods at the airport. So, it's not a good idea to check it into your luggage beforehand, as then you won't get reimbursed.

Since the line at this particular customs office is quite long and only a single officer is handling the processing, with only one person allowed in the office at a time, and people often having to unpack their goods from their suitcases, you need plenty of time before your flight departs. There are two lines: one in front of the cashier and one in front of the processing office. Due to the lack of a sign, you naturally first join the shorter line, only to find out at the cashier that you need to go to the office first, and then you grudgingly move over to the longer line. Oh well! The customs office is not eager to give back the 16%, so they make it as difficult as possible. It's only worth your time for larger amounts.

These phone card phones everywhere! Luckily, I actually had a phone card with me. However, what puzzled me was how to make a call from a phone booth without money or a card. Why can't you call a 0130 number from a phone booth, where the recipient covers the cost anyway? Maybe someone can enlighten me. In America, you can call free 1-800 numbers from any public phone booth, use "Call Collect," or call the police at 911--no change or card needed.

Clearance sale! That's an everyday occurrence in America. US stores practically have a "Sale" sign with in the window all year around. There isn't an official clearance sale; rather, it runs all year long. Or those boards with the current special offers written in chalk. That seems to be a German specialty.

As far as my impressions as a stranger in my own country go -- in short: I really enjoyed it, and above all, Angelika and I were thrilled to meet you all, dear newsletter readers! It was truly an exciting time for us, and you enriched it so pleasantly. See you in four years! Make way for Angelika!

Angelika Hooray! It's finally my turn. First, let me quickly remind you that during our stay in Germany, I was not only in Southern Germany but also in Northern Germany (specifically in Oldenburg). Just so that doesn't get overlooked. Michael has already shared one or two German adventures with you, and this time, I generously had let him take the lead, as he hadn't breathed German air for four years. Nevertheless, I will delight you with a few remarks. You'll just have to bear with me.

TODO

Berlin is on everyone's lips; even the American AAA magazine (the AAA is somewhat like the ADAC in Germany, and the magazine corresponds to the "ADAC Motorwelt") dedicated several pages to the German capital. During my Sturm und Drang period, I often visited Berlin for love. Of course, that was still during the time of the Wall, and even then, this city fascinated me. I had long wanted to visit again, but as is often the case when you only come to Germany for a short visit, there is no time for such excursions. However, since Berlin can be easily reached from Oldenburg in four hours by train, my mother and I followed the example of the Americans who travel through Europe in 14 days and went to Berlin for two days. I can warmly recommend this to every newsletter reader. Berlin is not only in motion but also in transition, as evidenced by the numerous construction sites. Naturally, we also completed the standard tourist program: the Reichstag (the new dome is a delight for anyone who enjoys photography), the Brandenburg Gate (currently wrapped in T-Online advertising because it is being renovated), Unter den Linden, Friedrichstraße, Berlin Cathedral, Museum Island, Hackesche Höfe, Potsdamer Platz, and the New Synagogue. But we also simply strolled through the streets. I was particularly drawn to the contrasts. Often, a freshly renovated building stands next to one that is on the verge of collapse. Precisely because much in Berlin is so questionable, one approaches it similarly to New York: either you love this city or you hate it. The newly designed Potsdamer Platz, which appears hyper-modern like something out of a science fiction film, is, for example, a project worth discussing. It is also worth questioning whether it was right that no piece of the Wall remains standing directly behind the Reichstag. I really struggled to imagine exactly where the Wall once ran. However, I am full of praise for the colorful variety of restaurants, pubs, and cafes. And since the weather in Berlin wasn't exactly warm and I still had a bit of San Francisco weather in my bones, constantly feeling cold, my mother and I made extensive use of these offerings.

The highlight was the hotel "Künstlerheim Luise" on Luisenstraße, where we stayed for one night. Each room was designed by a different artist. Ours was called "Baustelle Deutschland" by Oliver Jordan. We slept like logs, surrounded by the predominant colors black, red, and gold, and the portraits of Dutschke, Böll, Grass, Brecht, and Anna Seghers (the ghost train of German literature! Note from Michael). It's also amusing that the hotel is located right next to the railway tracks, allowing you to watch the S-Bahn, ICE, etc., pass by. Now you might exclaim in horror: "Oh no, then you can't sleep because of the noise!" But that was really not the case, as the windows were triple-glazed, and for those sensitive to noise, earplugs are provided as a precaution. The breakfast was also lovely, waiting for you in a communal kitchen in the morning. If you want to take a closer look at the hotel, just click on

What amused me greatly in Germany, by the way, are the Anglicisms that you encounter at every turn. German advertising seems unable to do without English phrases anymore. When you enter a bookstore, you feel like you're in an English-speaking country, as titles like "Fit for Life" immediately catch your eye. Now, you shouldn't think that I'm as extreme about language purity as the French, who even have their own word for "computer," but there's no need to overdo it, especially just to give the impression of being cosmopolitan. That ends up feeling really forced.

Michael has already written that we shopped diligently in Germany. We stocked up on everything: Cliff shower gels, Kneipp baths, German books, Milka chocolate. We just didn't think of the good old Tempos. And that immediately came back to bite us, as both Michael and I caught a cold right after our return. When it comes to tissues, America is really behind the times. Perhaps some of you who have traveled to America have noticed that tissues are usually only available for purchase in boxes. But it's extremely impractical to carry a box around when you're going somewhere. By now, there are packages that look like Tempo, but the tissues are so bad that they make you want to cry on top of having a cold. Not only are they as hard as anything, so that after blowing your nose three times you end up with a sore nose, but they are also so thin that you might as well take three at once to prevent the snot from suddenly spreading on your hand. It really can't be that hard to sell decent tissues that you can easily put in your pocket! The solution to the mystery, of course, lies in a cultural peculiarity: Americans stay home with a box full of tissues when they have a common cold. In these cases, all appointments are canceled, because nothing is worse for Americans than going out with a cold and spreading their germs. By the way, it's also considered impolite to blow your nose at the table in a restaurant -- for that, Americans go to the restroom. That's why you don't need tissues to take with you, it's as simple as that!

My latest story deals once again with one of my "favorite authorities," namely the American Immigration Office. They are always good for an adventure. As you all already know, we had to renew our visas some time ago. That went relatively smoothly, so we can now safely stay until October 2002.

In the USA, there is a somewhat absurd regulation that allows you to apply for a visa extension while in the country and receive all the official documents, but you can only get the stamp (which is now a self-adhesive label) in your passport outside the USA. Without it, you can leave the country but cannot re-enter. You might remember that during one of my visits to Germany, I had to go to the American consulate in Frankfurt for this reason. There is one exception: under certain conditions, you can send your passport and the original confirmation of the visa extension, along with some other paperwork, to the State Department in Washington, wait 10-12 weeks, and if you're lucky, you'll get the stamp in your passport.

We decided this time to choose the Washington option, as we hadn't had time to visit the American consulate in Frankfurt. And what a miracle, it even worked: The mail didn't get lost, and even my first name was spelled correctly (with a "k" and not a "c," as is common in America). Happily, we boarded the plane to Germany and had no worries about returning. Upon our return, we stood a little tired in the long "immigration line" at the airport in San Francisco and ended up with a female immigration officer whose correctness would have made any German official turn green with envy. After she looked at our passports and asked Michael where he worked, she actually wanted to see the original Form I-797. This is the document that confirms how long we are allowed to stay in the country, and according to the rules of the immigration office, it must be kept at the company, in this case, AOL. I knew this and immediately started to argue, earning disapproving looks from Michael, who already saw us spending the rest of Saturday surrounded by immigration officers at the airport. As I said, it was Saturday, otherwise, we could have quickly called AOL to have them fax this stupid form. Michael was diplomatic, confirming to the woman that she probably knew the legal situation better than we did and that we were sorry we couldn't show her the said paper. Grumbling, she let us go. As it turned out after consulting with our lawyer later, the immigration officers at the airport do indeed have the right to ask to see the paper. Unfortunately, the lawyer had forgotten to inform us of this (grumble!!!). However, the lawyer was also a bit confused, as the paper is usually not requested. It was probably the stamp issued in Washington that threw the lady off in our case. I tell you, without the immigration office, my life would be downright boring.

Until the next newsletter!

The translation of "Angelika und Michael" to English is "Angelika and Michael.

P.S.: As always, the newsletter is available live and in color on the internet -- with images that can be enlarged. Just visit http://usarundbrief.com !

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• More topics you might be interested in:

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