<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182</id><updated>2011-07-30T08:59:05.223-07:00</updated><category term='holiday'/><category term='Willi'/><category term='university-squat'/><category term='recipe'/><category term='films'/><category term='favourite things'/><category term='35th of May'/><category term='choir'/><category term='holidays'/><category term='misc'/><category term='family'/><title type='text'>the life and times of Gerrit the socialist</title><subtitle type='html'>This is my private Blog. This does not mean there will be no politics... 
Still, for my political Blogs, look under my other pseudonym, Ajaw.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-151434179483322501</id><published>2011-02-20T23:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T23:57:52.509-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>chapter 5 part 2</title><content type='html'>After a short, brisk walk, they stood in front of a gigantic industrial building. Big letters on its wall read: „Livestock-processing-plant Electropolis“&lt;br /&gt;Konrad was the first through the gates.&lt;br /&gt;Seemingly endless herds of animals stood in the courtyard, waiting to be processed. They clustered, stomping and mooing in front of a giant funnel at least 20 meters across. The herd got slowly sucked into it. Oxen, cows, calfs – all vanished in the hundreds, mysteriously sucked  into the gleaming opening.&lt;br /&gt;„Why do the humans murder all those poor animals?“ asked the horse.&lt;br /&gt;„Yes, it is a pity“, answered the uncle. „But if you had ever eaten a steak, you would be more tolerant.&lt;br /&gt;Konrad ran along the side of the giant hall. From the machines rose a great din. Ringelhuth and the horse had a hard time catching up with the boy. At last they reached the backside of the plant. Long lines of rail-cars waited there, drawn by big electric engines. From chutes on the back wall of the building the products fell into the cars. Leather suitcases from one, barrels with butter from the next, leather shoes from a third. From other chutes rolled giant cheeses, combs, sausages, cans with milk, violin-strings, cream and so on.&lt;br /&gt;Once the cars were filled, a bell rang. At this signal, the trains rolled forth and new, empty ones took their place under the chutes. &lt;br /&gt;„And no living soul in sight anywhere! Nothing but oxen!“ shouted uncle Ringelhuth over the noise. „Everything electric, automated!“ &lt;br /&gt;But just as he had said that, a man came towards them across the yard. He greeted them and said: „It is my shift today. One day every month. Twelve days a year. I control and maintain the machines.“&lt;br /&gt;„Just one question, old chap“, said the horse. „What do you do on the other threehundred-fifty-three days of the year?“&lt;br /&gt;„Oh, this and that“, replied the man happily. „I have a vegetable-patch. I play football and i like to draw. You see, I have problem keeping myself occupied... oh and sometimes, I like to read history-books. It is amazing how complicated people used to live.“&lt;br /&gt;„That's true“, said the uncle. „But from where do you get these huge amounts of electricity you need to run your city?“&lt;br /&gt;„From the Niagara falls“, the man told them. „We unfortunately had unusually strong rainfall the last few weeks. I am quite concerned. The voltage has increased so much that we fear it could blow out some circuits at central distribution. Ah, look, the 4-o'clock-newspaper is just coming in!“&lt;br /&gt;„Where?“, asked Konrad.&lt;br /&gt;The overseer stared into the sky and the others followed his example. And really, in the sky appeared, in white letters on the blue background, the news. „No danger for Electropolis!“ the headline said. A report from the security-council followed. Also there were news about the ongoing diplomatic talks with Mars about a trade-agreement, the latest developments in science and the upcoming radio- and home-cinema-program. The newspaper ended with the serial novel being projected against the sky.&lt;br /&gt;Konrad was just about to start reading the novel, when a sudden, infernal noise erupted from the building. The products fell out of the chutes with increasing speed. It was literally raining shoes, suitcases, butter, milk, cheese and steaks. The cars overflowed. And now bricks, Windowpanes and parts of machines flew out of the chutes!&lt;br /&gt;„Oh now!“, the overseer screamed. „The factory consumes itself!“ And he ran off.&lt;br /&gt;The disaster began when the power-plants at the Niagara falls produced a hundred times as much power as normally due to the flooding. The machines of the livestock-processing-plant ran empty when the last herd was processed. In the end, they ran backwards, sucking all the butter, shoes, cheeses and other products back in. The original animals were spit out of the gates. The oxen, calves and cows stampeded nervously and screaming onto the street and into the city. &lt;br /&gt;The uncle and Konrad had climbed onto the horse. The panicking herds pulled them along. On the streets the moving sidewalks quickened to a sickening speed. The automated cars shot through the lanes like lightning, driving into the houses and raced up the stairs. The electric lamps melted, the artificial gardens bloomed and withered at the same time. On the sky the newspaper for the day after tomorrow appeared.&lt;br /&gt;The horse could no longer cope with all of this. It stood rooted on a driveway, its knees quivering.&lt;br /&gt;„Please excuse me, Mr Caballo!“ cried the uncle and gave the horse a slab on the back with his cane. The animal was so shocked that it forgot his fears and raced through the surrounding pandemonium as if the devil himself was on its tail.&lt;br /&gt;They left the city behind them after endless minutes and were safe.&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, they saw how lifts shot through the roofs of the houses. The roar of the trembling aluminium skyscrapers sounded like war.&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ringelhuth patted the horse's neck, wiped the sweat from his forehead and said: „Paradise is blowing up.“&lt;br /&gt;Konrad took him by the arm. „Don't be sad. When I'm grown up, we shall build a new one!“&lt;br /&gt;And then they rode on. Always straight ahead. Towards the south sea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-151434179483322501?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/151434179483322501/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2011/02/chapter-5-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/151434179483322501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/151434179483322501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2011/02/chapter-5-part-2.html' title='chapter 5 part 2'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-6997996419990661796</id><published>2011-02-18T11:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T11:50:15.942-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>chapter 5 part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Danger! High Voltage!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the exit of the world turned upside down, they found a subway-station. They walked down the stairs, saw a train and got in.&lt;br /&gt;„What a strange subway“, said Konrad. „I can't see a conductor, nor a driver. I wonder where to the trip will go.“&lt;br /&gt;„We shall see“, answered the uncle. At that point, the train started. A second later, it shot through a concrete tunnel like lightning. Ringelhuth fell of his seat and said: „OK, maybe we won't live to see it. Dear nephew, if something happens to me, don't forget – over all your grief – that you will inherit my pharmacy.“&lt;br /&gt;„And if you should happen to outlive me, dear uncle“, replied the boy, „my school books and my compasses will be yours.“&lt;br /&gt;„Thank you so much!“ answered the uncle. And then the two solemnly and moved shook hands.&lt;br /&gt;„Lets not get all soft“, said the horse and looked out of the window. The subway shot through the tunnel like a rocket and the tracks wailed and the train screamed as if it was afraid of itself.&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ringelhuth climbed back onto the seat and said in desperation: „If something happens to me now, I can forget about the night shift at the pharmacy.“ But at that moment he fell off again, because the train had just stopped as if it had rammed an ice-berg.&lt;br /&gt;„That does it! Out of here!“ cried the uncle, got to his feet jerked the doors open and stumbled onto the platform. The horse and Konrad hurried to follow him.&lt;br /&gt;After they had climbed up the stairs, they had a look around and already wanted to sit down again. They were standing right in the middle of a bunch of skyscrapers!&lt;br /&gt;„...Cor!“ the horse said after a while. Konrad started to count the storeys of the nearest skyscraper. He reached forty-six before he had to stop, for the rest of the house was concealed in the clouds. Onto one of the clouds were projected the words&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Electropolis&lt;br /&gt;the automated city&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danger!&lt;br /&gt;High Voltage!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The horse wanted to turn around on the spot, telling the other to let the bloody south sea get lost. But uncle and nephew would not have any of that and instead started to cross the big square in front of them. So Negro Caballo had to follow them, whether or not he wanted. Hundreds of cars swarmed around them. &lt;br /&gt;„No one seems to work here“, observed Ringelhuth, „everyone just drives around in their cars. Can you understand this?“&lt;br /&gt;Konrad, after having a curious look at one of the cars, came back to them, shaking his head in disbelief. „You won't believe this“, he said, „all the cars drive by themselves, without drivers or steering. I'm completely at a loss.“&lt;br /&gt;A car stopped next to them. A nice old lady sat in it, crocheting. „You're not from here, are you?“ she asked friendly.&lt;br /&gt;„This does it“, said the uncle. „Could you please enlighten us to why the cars here drive on their own?“&lt;br /&gt;The lady smiled: „Our cars are remote-controlled“, she explained. „The system works through coupling an electromagnetic field with radio control. Easy, isn't it?“&lt;br /&gt;„Ludicrously easy“, said the uncle.&lt;br /&gt;„Just ludicrous“, mumbled the horse.&lt;br /&gt;And Konrad shouted angrily: „And I wanted to become a chauffeur!“ The old lady put her crochet-work aside. „Why on earth do you want to become a chauffeur?“&lt;br /&gt;„To earn money, of course“, the boy answered.&lt;br /&gt;„Why do you want to earn money?“ asked the lady.&lt;br /&gt;„Are you pulling my leg?“ said Konrad. „If you don't work, you don't earn money. And without money, you'll starve.“&lt;br /&gt;„Those are quite the outdated views you have, my dear“, the old lady replied. „Here in Electropolis, you only work for fun, to lose weight or to learn something. We get everything we need for free, since everything is produced by machines.“&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ringelhuth thought for a moment: „But before you process them, you have to plant the foodstuffs. And the livestock does not grow like weeds.“&lt;br /&gt;„Our farmers outside the city do that“, answered the nice lady. „But even they have little mandatory work to do, since farming is thoroughly industrialized, too. Machines do most of the work there, too.“&lt;br /&gt;„And the farmers give you their produce for free?“ asked the horse.&lt;br /&gt;„The farmers get everything else they need in exchange“, the lady told them. „Everyone can get everything, because the machines and the land produce more than enough, of course. Didn't you know that?“&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ringelhuth did not and so was a little bit ashamed. „Of course we know that. Still most people are in dire need where we come from.“&lt;br /&gt;„How preposterous!“ cried the old lady. But then she was smiling again and said: „OK, I'll be off to our artificial gardens. The trees and flowers there smell of ozone. That's very healthy. Have a nice day!“&lt;br /&gt;She pressed a button and said into a speaking-tube: „To the artificial park! I want to have coffee in the café near the carbonated fountain!“ The mysterious car obediently got under way and drove off. The nice old lady sat back comfortably, resuming her crocheting.&lt;br /&gt;The three were baffled and stared after her. And the uncle said: „Now this is something. One day, the whole world will be like this! I hope you'll still be there when it happens, my boy.“&lt;br /&gt;„Just like Cockaigne“, the horse said.&lt;br /&gt;„There is one important difference“, Ringelhuth objected.&lt;br /&gt;„Which one?“, asked the horse.&lt;br /&gt;„People here actually work. They are not lazy. They just work for fun, true, but lets not hold that against them! OK, lets get a move on.“&lt;br /&gt;The turned into a street packed with traffic to look at the displays in the shops' windows. But as soon as they set foot onto the sidewalk, all three fell on their noses. Or, in the horse's case, its snout. Though they had no intention to do so, they slid along the sidewalk. „Help!“ Konrad cried out. „The sidewalk has come to life!“&lt;br /&gt;The sidewalk was, in fact, a conveyor belt, so people did not have to walk. People just stepped onto it and without setting one foot in front of the other, one could go through the whole city. If someone wanted to enter a shop or cross the street, one stepped off it and once again stood on firm cobbles.&lt;br /&gt;That crocheting grandma could have told us“, the horse complained. It rode down the main street of Electropolis on his behind and could not get up thanks to the roller skates. Ringelhuth and Konrad had to help it stand up. After that, it even had fun with the living sidewalk.&lt;br /&gt;The uncle wanted to have a look at the display of a bakery and stepped off the belt. He did not, however, have enough practice, yet and banged his head on the wall of one of the houses. They heard a strange humming sound. „Where did that come from?“ asked Konrad and knocked against the house. The humming got louder. He scratched the wall and was surprised. „What do you say to this? The skyscrapers are made of aluminium!“&lt;br /&gt;„Now this is a practical city!“ said the uncle. „we should send our mayor here, he could learn a thing or two.“&lt;br /&gt;But the most astonishing thing was this: a gentleman, who was sliding along the sidewalk in front of them, suddenly stepped off it, took a phone-speaker from the pocket of his coat, said a number into it and said: „Gertrud, listen, I'll be home about an hour later today for dinner. I want to go to the lab before. Goodbye, honey!“ Then he put the phone back into the coat and stepped back onto the belt. Once again reading his book, he resumed his trip.&lt;br /&gt; Konrad and the horse were at a loss for words. Some people passing them in the opposite direction remarked: „Those with the horse, they must be some hicks from who knows where.“&lt;br /&gt;Ringelhuth shrugged and tried to look as indigenous as possible. But, doing so, he fell over again. When Konrad tried to help him up again, he declined: „Oh, don't bother, I'll have a seat for the rest of the journey.“&lt;br /&gt;They went from one street to the next. The skyscrapers of aluminium started to sing because of a breeze.&lt;br /&gt;After a quarter of an hour, the conveyer belt came to an end. There were no skyscrapers anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Once again, they had to walk on their own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-6997996419990661796?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/6997996419990661796/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2011/02/chapter-5-part-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/6997996419990661796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/6997996419990661796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2011/02/chapter-5-part-1.html' title='chapter 5 part 1'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-7802914517348324081</id><published>2010-10-28T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T05:22:00.427-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>chapter four - part two</title><content type='html'>So Konrad and the horse quickly ran up the stairs and then along a long hallway, looking for room 28. Suddenly they heard a child's voice: „Konrad, Konrad!“ The boy turned and saw a redhaired girl coming closer. She had pigtails sticking out from her head as if woven around florist's wire.&lt;br /&gt;„Babette!“ Konrad said. &lt;br /&gt;And then the two ran and shook each other's hands.&lt;br /&gt;„What are you doing in the world turned upside down?“ Babette asked.&lt;br /&gt;„Oh, we were just on our way through, to the south sea. I have to write a paper about it. Now we are looking for my uncle. He got kidnapped at the entrance and is currently supposed to sit in the beginners' course. Do you have any idea what he is doing there?“&lt;br /&gt;„Oh dear!“ said the girl. „This sounds like a giant misunderstanding. Isn't your uncle a nice guy?“&lt;br /&gt;„He is“, replied the boy.&lt;br /&gt;„The guys at the entrance probably thought that you brought him for education!“ Babette seemed to be really angry. „Lets get him out of there, that should be easy, after all, I am secretary for education.“ She took Konrad by the hand.&lt;br /&gt;„Wait a second!“ said the horse. „What is the meaning of your world turned upside-down? I'm not stupid, you know, but there are quite a few things I don't get here.“&lt;br /&gt;Babette stopped. „It's like this“, she said. „As you know, not all parents are nice, just as not all children. Some of them are actually rather dreadfull.“&lt;br /&gt;„Yes“, said Konrad. „If these bad parents refuse to change and if they unjustly punish or even beat their children – this happens a lot -  they are commited to us. This helps most of the time.“&lt;br /&gt;The horse scratched its head with a hoof and wanted to know hwo exactly those parents were educated.&lt;br /&gt;Babette took a deep breath. „Mostly, we do the same unto them. It is not pretty, but necessary. As an example, we have here a certain Mr. Clemens Waffelbruch.“&lt;br /&gt;„That's uncle Ringelhuth's landlord!“ exclaimed Konrad. „But he was at home just now! The horse threw a flowerpot onto his head not an hour ago!“ The horse showed his teeth and laughed quietly.&lt;br /&gt;„All of us are here and at home at the same time.“ explained Babette. „This Waffelbruch has a son, Arthur by name. Arthur gets locked out on the balcony by his father for hours almost every evening. Especially if it is raining. And do you know why? Only because he is bad at math. He tries so hard! Arthur stands on the balcony, is frightened and cries and is cold. He got paler and sicker by the day. And because of all this fear, he nowadays cannot do any math at all.“&lt;br /&gt;„I did not like this guy from the beginning“, grumbled the horse. „I should have thrown a few more pots onto his hat.“&lt;br /&gt;„And now we put him on the balcony. The wind has to howl and it has to rain“, explained Babette. „We do this as long as it takes to show him how he tortures his son. Be quiet for a bit!“&lt;br /&gt;They fell silent.&lt;br /&gt;„Don't you hear anything?“ whispered Babette.&lt;br /&gt;„Someone is swearing and crying. But it is far away“, said Konrad.&lt;br /&gt;„That's old Waffelbruch“, whispered Babette. „I guess he will be ready in three days or so. Then he will of his own will swear not to torment little Arthur ever again. If he does, we will release him as cured.“&lt;br /&gt;„I see“, said the horse. „And why are you here?“&lt;br /&gt;Babette was a bit embarrassed. Finally she said: „It's because of my mum. She has not really cared for me for a while now. In the morning, i did not get any breakfast anymore, because she was still sleeping. Over noon, she is not home, so I do not get lunch, either. And in the evening, when I go to bed, she is not home, yet. The school-doctor send her a letter, which she threw in the oven.“&lt;br /&gt;„And now?“&lt;br /&gt;„Now she is send to school here and i am forbidden to care for her. Only sometimes, I have to go into her room and pretend I don't notice her. Then I have to leave again and sing in the corridor. Babette had tears in her eyes. „I feel so sorry for her“, she whispered. „She has already lost ten pounds. Sometimes, even though it is forbidden, i leave her a sandwich on the table.“ Babette sobbed and blew her nose.&lt;br /&gt;„Don't cry“, said Konrad. „When you wee hungry, she did not cry, either.“&lt;br /&gt;Babette blew her nose again. „You are right, of course“, she said, „but I pity her nonetheless. Lets just hope, the treatment is successfull. But normally, we have a great success rate.“ She tried to smile.&lt;br /&gt;„I'm happy to hear that“, said the horse. „Now let us get uncle Ringelhuth out of your sanatorium, before he becomes even nicer than he already is.“&lt;br /&gt;„That would be unbearable“, said Konrad. So they quickly left for room 28. Quite a remarkable sight awaited them there. The school-benches were filled with grown-ups. They all wore childrens' clothing, and some of them looked rather dangerous. Especially the fat ones. In the front, behind the lectern, sat a pale, serious boy. He was the teacher and when the three entered the room, he ordered: „Rise!“&lt;br /&gt;The grown-ups rose. Only a particularly fat man got stuck in the bench. The boy who was the teacher shook hands with Babette and said: „Godd afternoon, Miss secretary.“&lt;br /&gt;„Hello Jacob, did they bring in a new one a little while ago?“&lt;br /&gt;„Yes“, said the teacher, „I don't think he is particulary evil, but he seems to be a bit dim. He's laughing all the time. Come over here, please, Ringelhuth!“&lt;br /&gt;So uncle Ringelhuth ambled over from the last bench. The horse went into a laughing-fit, when it saw him. The uncle was wearing shorts, half-stockings and a sailor-jacket. On his head he had sailor's cap with the words „Torpedoboat Lower Silesia“ embroidered on the rim.&lt;br /&gt;„Blimey!“ said Konrad and held on to Babette.&lt;br /&gt;„Don't you like my outfit?“ the uncle asked, acting upset.&lt;br /&gt;Babette explained the misunderstanding to the teacher, who then send a student, a barrister named Bollensänger to fetch Ringelhuth's clothes and cane from the office.&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, the lessen continued. Babette, Konrad, the uncle and the horse stood by the door and watched the show.&lt;br /&gt;„Butcher Sauertopf!“ Jacob shouted, „rise! You are constantly beating your children around the head, is that right?“&lt;br /&gt;„Yes“, said Sauertopf. „Those are my own, personal children and it is of no concern to anyone when and where I beat them! Understood?“&lt;br /&gt;„One of the boys became sick. And our doctor said that Willi is going to suffer for the rest of his life because of the beatings he got for losing a dime.“&lt;br /&gt;„Why doesn't your doctor come here, so I can give him a few slaps, too!“ screamed the butcher. „I harden the kids.“&lt;br /&gt;„Yeah“, said Jacob, „I guess we have to harden you, too.We don't like to do this, but we will repay all the inhuman beatings you have dealt out until you understand what you did.“ He rang a bell. Four bigger boys came into the classroom, took the butcher and led him towards the door. „Around the head“, explained Jacob and the four nodded.&lt;br /&gt;„He won't see reason this way“, said the uncle.&lt;br /&gt;„Unfortunately only this way“, replied Babette. „I know these types. Luckily they're only few.“&lt;br /&gt;Sauertopf was led away. He looked rather puzzled in his Confirmation-suit, that was way too small for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;„Mrs Ottilie Überbein!“ Jacob called.&lt;br /&gt;A thin lady got up. She wore a thin dress and constantly fingered her hair.&lt;br /&gt;Jacob said: „You force your daughter Paula to lie for you. The child has to lie to her dad and the grandparents, so that no one finds out what you do with the family's money. That in fact, you do not go for walks with Paula but instead let her wait alone in a pastry shop while you lose the money playing Bridge.“&lt;br /&gt;„This is nothing you should care about. I can do whatever I want.“ Mrs Überbein replied haughtily.&lt;br /&gt;„We don't care if you lie“, said Jacob. „But we care a lot about you forcing your daughter to lie. We can no longer tolerate this. Paula can't sleep at night, has a guilty conscience and cries every time she has to tell a lie to her dad.“&lt;br /&gt;„You exaggerate, little one“, said Mrs Ottilie Überbein.&lt;br /&gt;Jacob was annoyed now. „I do not, in any way, exaggerate! The poor child does not know what to do. Who knows what could happen! Stop fiddling with your stupid hair, while I'm talking to you! We will keep you for another week. If you, by then, still don't know how to treat your daughter, we will take measures.“&lt;br /&gt;„Now I'm curious“, Mrs Überbein snappishly.&lt;br /&gt;„If you force Paula to lie for you again, we will tell your husband the truth.“ said Jacob.&lt;br /&gt;„Everything, but not that!“ cried Mrs Überbein and had to sit down from shock.&lt;br /&gt;„More about this tomorrow“, said Jacob. „Now Mr. director Hobohm!“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But at this point, Mr. Bollensänger returned and brought uncle Ringelhuth's clothes. Also the cane. The uncle changed quickly, twirled his cane and said: „And now, off we go to the south sea!“&lt;br /&gt;„Oh, I had almost forgotten that!“ explained Konrad and shook Babette's hand. „This was very interesting“, he said. „I wish you all the best. I mean, about your mum, you know...“&lt;br /&gt;„Goodbye, Miss secretary“, said the horse. The uncle was already in the corridor.&lt;br /&gt;„Always straight ahead!“ said Babette.&lt;br /&gt;„The same to you“, the confused Konrad replied and then he ran after the others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-7802914517348324081?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/7802914517348324081/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/chapter-four-part-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/7802914517348324081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/7802914517348324081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/chapter-four-part-two.html' title='chapter four - part two'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-2361300652456725764</id><published>2010-10-27T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T09:06:07.428-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>chapter four - part one</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The world, turned upside down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Behind the castle they had just left lay a toy-forest. After their experiences with Hannibal and Wallenstein, this was a welcome change. A herd of rocking-horses grazed on a sun-lit clearing. Cute little sail-boats swam on a blue stream. The trees were full of balloons. The shrubbery on the banks of the stream consisted of candy canes. Two parrots sat on a branch, leafing through a picture-book. Suddenly they burst out laughing so hard they dropped the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Konrad wanted to leap off the horse to pick up the book, but uncle Ringelhuth stopped him, gave him a little slap and said: „Stop it! We have to reach the south sea!“ And so they galloped on. The horse claimed his ball-bearings had run hot, but this was an exaggeration.&lt;br /&gt;On the side of the road, toy-trains rattled along on their tracks. Occasionally a switch changed with a snap. The engines whistled and the train drove into the forest over which the balloons waved. In front of a house made of tin foil sat five scottish terriers in silence and smoke thick chocolate cigars.&lt;br /&gt;„Let me get of!“ Konrad cried. „I have to pet the dogs!“&lt;br /&gt;But Ringelhuth said: „Why don't you take my cane for a minute?“ When the boy did this, the uncle clasped his hands over Konrad's eyes, so he could no longer see the toy forest and shouted: „Run, Caballo!“ &lt;br /&gt;They rode on like the Wild Hunt and over the toy-heath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;„OK“, said the uncle, when he finally took his hands off Konrad's eyes. The horse rolled in a steady trot. Konrad looked around. The toy-heath had come to an end. The balloon-treetops gleamed from far behind. Big paper kites flew over them.&lt;br /&gt;„Pity“, murmured Konrad.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the horse braked, stood still and said: „Everyone get off, please!“&lt;br /&gt;Ringelhuth and Konrad climbed off and looked around. They stood in front of a big building painted with fairy-tale-motivs. Countless children looked out of the windows and waved.&lt;br /&gt;„Looks like a summer camp“, said the uncle.&lt;br /&gt;„That'S what YOU think“, answered Konrad. „The sign says something completely different.“ And then he read out, what was written over the portal:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;The world turned upside down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admittance only &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the company of children&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;„Ha!“ shouted Konrad. „Once again you see how lucky you are to have me with you!“ He threw himself into posture and paraded proudly into the house ahead of the other two. They found themselves in an office. A boy sat behind the counter. He shook Konrad's hand and asked him whom he had in tow.&lt;br /&gt;„A horse, who is a superb roller skater“, Konrad explained, „and my uncle. He is an apothecary and called Ringelhuth.“&lt;br /&gt;„Is he very terrible?“ asked the other boy. „No thanks“, asnwered Konrad, „he's OK.“&lt;br /&gt;„Well, we will get him sorted out“, said the boy. „We have dealt with worse people before...“ And then he pressed a button.&lt;br /&gt;„What?“ asked Konrad. He was puzzled. But in that instant, a horde of children came piling in and pushed the uncle through a door marked „only for grown-ups“.&lt;br /&gt;„What is this supposed to be?“ asked Konrad. „We wanted to go to the south sea!“&lt;br /&gt;„Later, later“, said the boy. He asked them for their personal data. Then he send them through another door. „ask for the school!“ he shouted after them. „You'll find your uncle there. He just has to change first.“&lt;br /&gt;„Does this make any sense at all to you?“ Konrad asked the horse. „Why should the uncle have to change clothes?“&lt;br /&gt;„Wait and see“, the horse answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The street was packed. Boys in top hats with files under their arms hurried past them. Girls in fashionable suits walked by. As a matter of fact, you could only see children around!&lt;br /&gt;„Excuse me“, Konrad asked a boy who was about to get into a car. „Aren't there any grown-ups here?“&lt;br /&gt;„Of course there are, but they are all at school at the moment“, the boy replied. Then he got into his car, nodded to Konrad and said: „You have to excuse me, I have to get to the stock exchange!“ And he was gone.&lt;br /&gt;„This blows my mind.“ Konrad commented. „You'll do without“, the horse replied. „What are grown-ups doing at school and children at the stock-exchange?“ asked Konrad.&lt;br /&gt;The horse shrugged and rolled on. The boy could hardly follow. Luckily the school was not that far away. „Dedicated to the difficult parents“ said the plaque over the door.&lt;br /&gt;„Well, lets get inside“, said the horse.&lt;br /&gt;They entered. A small girl sat behind a counter and asked whom they were looking for.&lt;br /&gt;„A certain Mr. Ringelhuth“, answered the horse. The girl browsed through her notes. „Ringelhuth? He is in the beginners' course.“ „What on earth is he doing there?“ asked Konrad.&lt;br /&gt;„There he will be educated“, the girl at the counter replied.&lt;br /&gt;„I'll go mad“, shouted Konrad, „I want my uncle back asap!“&lt;br /&gt;„Room 28“, said the girl in a strict voice and closed the counter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-2361300652456725764?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/2361300652456725764/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/chapter-four-part-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/2361300652456725764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/2361300652456725764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/chapter-four-part-one.html' title='chapter four - part one'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-5751980959865792985</id><published>2010-10-27T00:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T00:40:48.894-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>Chapter three - part two</title><content type='html'>And here comes the rest of chapter three, have fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They jogged along the street, past small castle-like mansions, greeting all the different kings, knights and generals who looked out of their windows, smoked pipes or watered the plants in their gardens with their golden watering cans.&lt;br /&gt;From one of the gardens they heard shouting, but at first could not see anyone. So they stepped closer to the fence and looked over it.&lt;br /&gt;Two serious-looking gentlemen in armour were lying in the gras, playing with tin soldiers.&lt;br /&gt;„Oh no my dear Hannibal“, one of them shouted, „you must admit that the rose-bush has finally been conquered by my landsknechts!“&lt;br /&gt;„Dear Mr Wallenstein“, the other one replied, pale with anger, „I don't think so! I will have my cavalry skirt around your left wing and attack you from behind!“&lt;br /&gt;„Try, if you must“, Wallenstein, duke of Friedland jeered. „This attack will amount to nothing and cost you dearly. I will turn my reserves from the reseda-patch left and get you from the flanks!“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The battle for the rose-bush was in full swing. Hannibal led his riders into the back of the imperials who were hard-pressesd. But Wallenstein bombarded the regiments with peas from a cute little cannons and the riders fell in droves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hannibal was furious. He took new cavalrymen from a box and strengthened his vanguard.&lt;br /&gt;But Wallenstein fired one pea after another into the african units. Hannibal's losses staggered, even the dreaded elefants dropped into the gras. The battle for the rose-bush was almost over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;„Hey you!“ Konrad shouted over the fence, „Draw your frontline back! Attack again later and break through his centre, he is especially vulnarable there!“&lt;br /&gt;Hannibal and Wallenstein took a short break from their battle and looked over to the new arrivals. The carthaginian commander shook his head and said in a dignified voice: „I shall not retreat, even if it will cost me my last man!“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;„But listen“, said Konrad „Your army is too valuable for this!“&lt;br /&gt;Now Wallenstein joined the conversation: „You are a stupid little boy!“ he explained. „It does not matter, how many soldiers fall. It is only important how many you have in reserve!“&lt;br /&gt;„Aren't you two darling!“ Ringelhuth said to the two generals. „You and your kind should only be allowed to wage war with tin soldiers!“&lt;br /&gt;„Get lost!“ cried Hannibal. „If you don't have any ambition, you should keep your mouth shut! What is your job anyway?“&lt;br /&gt;„Pharmacist“, replied the uncle.&lt;br /&gt;„Of course“, said Hannibal, laughing contemptuously. „Of course a medic!“ Then he turned back to Wallenstein. „Dear duke, the battle continues!“&lt;br /&gt;They once again started to fight for the rose-bush. „To the last drop of blood!“ said Hannibal.&lt;br /&gt;„Surrender!“ shouted Wallenstein. He had by now surrounded the enemy troops and shot them to pulp with his pea-cannon.&lt;br /&gt;„Only when my last man lies dead in the gras!“ Hannibal swore. But at that point, he had to sneeze. He looked up and said: „Allright, lets stop. The gras is too wet. When will i have the opportunity for a revanche?“&lt;br /&gt;„As soon as your sniffles are over, dear friend.“ replied Wallenstein. „A cold is not to be trifled with.“&lt;br /&gt;The two generals got up from the lawn, streched their stiff legs, let their troops lie under the rose-bush and walked towards the mansion. „A year before my assasination in Eger,“ Wallenstein told Hannibal, „I had a terrible cold. I'd rather lose three battles than have to sneeze like that again.“ With these words, the two disappeared into the house.&lt;br /&gt;„Take an aspirin!“ shouted the uncle. „And drink a cup of lime-blossom-tea! And you can go to war again in no time!“ But Hannibal could no longer hear him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;„Lets get going“, said the horse, „I've had it with these heroes.“&lt;br /&gt;The uncle and Konrad once again climbed onto their steed and rolled towards the border. „What a pity“, said Ringelhuth. „Can you believe it, my dear Negro Caballo, my nephew also plays with tin soldiers!“&lt;br /&gt;„Why?“ asked the horse. „Do you want to become a general?“&lt;br /&gt;„No“, said the boy.&lt;br /&gt;„Or one of the tin soldiers who will lose their lives under the rose-bush tomorrow?“&lt;br /&gt;„I don't think so“, objected Konrad. „I'll be a chauffeur.“&lt;br /&gt;„So why do you play with tin soldiers?“ asked the horse.&lt;br /&gt;Konrad fell silent. But uncle Ringelhuth said: „Why? Because his father gave them to him.“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, they reached the border. They crossed another drawbridge and left the glorious past behind them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-5751980959865792985?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/5751980959865792985/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/chapter-three-part-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/5751980959865792985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/5751980959865792985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/chapter-three-part-two.html' title='Chapter three - part two'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-8161171700633947717</id><published>2010-10-26T04:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T04:32:25.607-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>finally - Chapter three part one!</title><content type='html'>I finally sat down to translate chapter three of the 35th of may.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hannibal sneezes on it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly after, they arrived at a gigantic medieval castle. Between them and the castle, an at least ten meters wide, water-filled moat streched in both directions. The fortress itself consisted of countles towers and turrets full of colourful flags, walls and oriel windows. A Drawbridge guarded the gate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;„I had one of those to play with as a kid“, said the apothecary. „Of course, mine wasn't as big, but it had red paper in the windows. So, how do you guess we get over there?“&lt;br /&gt;„We have to ring“, said Konrad.&lt;br /&gt;The horse laughed aloof and claimed that castles with bells would not exist.&lt;br /&gt;This indeed was the case. But after a short search they found a small sign next to the moat.&lt;br /&gt;The sign read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Castle of the glorious past&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admittance after three trumpetblows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;signed the Castle-intendant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;„And from where are we supposed to get three trumpetblows all of a sudden?“, the uncle asked angrily. „Why do they have to make crossing the border always so difficult?“&lt;br /&gt;„I could blow on my comb“, suggested Konrad and produced a comb from his pockets.&lt;br /&gt;„Don't you dare!“, the uncle cried, cupped his hands in front of his mouth, took a few deep breaths and called out: „Tadaaa, tadaaa, tadaaa!“&lt;br /&gt;For an apothecary without a trumpet, he trumpeted quite well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the drawbridge opened and the horse rolled on with his two riders. In the courtyard stood an old knight in  golden armor, leaning on his rusty sword. Through his long white beard he murmured: „From whence doest thou come, oh travellers?“&lt;br /&gt;Ringelhuth saluted with his cane and told him they came from Cockaigne.&lt;br /&gt;„And whither doest thine journey take thee?“, the knight inquired.&lt;br /&gt;„To the south sea“, Konrad answered.&lt;br /&gt;„Thou are allowed to pass“, the gilded grandfather said, „but befor thee go, give us thine names!“&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ringelhuth introduced himself and his fellow travellers.&lt;br /&gt;„I on the other hand“, the knight explained, „am the great Charlemagne, known from history books across the world.“&lt;br /&gt;„I'm honoured“, Ringelhuth said, „but now, dear Charlemagne, would you please tell us, which way to go? And please, speak a bit less pompously!“&lt;br /&gt;Charlemagne stroked his beard and said: „Just go straight on. But thou art lucky, for the Olympic games are held at this moment.“&lt;br /&gt;„We are very much looking forward to that“, the horse answered, lifted his straw hat and rolled on.&lt;br /&gt;The somewhat annoyed Charlemagne climbed noisily back into his guardhouse.&lt;br /&gt;Konrad asked his uncle to have the horse stop at the gamefields. The trumpets blazed as they neared the stadium. On the stands sat old knights and young damsels with binoculars, chevaliers with wigs and noble ladies with crinolines.&lt;br /&gt;„OK, OK“, said Ringelhuth. „Halt, my dear horse!“&lt;br /&gt;Negro Kaballo stood still. Uncle and nephew climbed off his back. Then they bought three tickets from emperor Barbarossa, who was selling them at a stone table. They bought tickets for the first row on the shady side of the court. Aside from the tickets, Barbarossa also gave them a programm.&lt;br /&gt;Konrad silently nudged his uncle to draw his attention to Barbarossa's beard, which had grown THROUGH the stone table.&lt;br /&gt;„This is an extraordinarily bearded area, isn't it?“, said Ringelhuth. „Look, they're shot-putting!“ He read from the programme: „Preliminaries in shot-putting, participants: Karl XII of Sweden, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%B6tz_von_Berlichingen"&gt;Götz von Berlichingen&lt;/a&gt;, Tzar Peter the Great, August the Strong of Saxony.“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Götz von Berlichingen was first. He used his left hand, because of his iron right. Then it was August the Strong's turn and reached 18,17 meters. Konrad said this was a new world record. Karl XII withdrew since he wanted to save his strength for the javelin-throwing.&lt;br /&gt;At this point, uncle Ringelhut received a blow to the back, almost toppling over Tzar Peter. He turned angrily. In front of him stood a young man with a camera. „Sorry“, he mumbled, „I'm the cameraman from Universal, I have to get a few shots for the newsreel. Does it hurt?“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August the Strong took him to the sideline and whispered something into his ear. Then he took the ball and threw it in a high curve into the sand, while the young man filmed him. He smiled in what he thought to be a kingly fashion, took a heroic pose and asked whether he should say a few fitting words. „As you like“, the man replied, „but I film without sound.“&lt;br /&gt;Ringelhuth and Konrad went away laughing, the horse followed them grinningly.&lt;br /&gt;They entered the stands but at first could not find their seats. Eventually they found two of them already occupied. &lt;br /&gt;„Would you please show us your tickets?“ said the uncle. &lt;br /&gt;The two men turned. They were Julius Cesar and Napoleon I. Napoleon grumpily eyed the apothecary and put his yellow face in majestic wrinkles. After this did not work, he gave in and Cesar, too moved to the side.&lt;br /&gt;„If I had my old guard with me, i would not move“, Napoleon remarked haughtily. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ringelhuth sat down next to him and said: „If you say anything stupid like that again, i shall take your tricorne and feed it to my favourite horse. Understood?“&lt;br /&gt;„You should get a new hat anyway, mister Napoleon“, Negro Caballo added.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julius Cesar wrapped his toga tighter around his shoulders and said to the french emperor: „I don't mean to incite you, but I would not allow something like this.“&lt;br /&gt;„Without an army, you cannot really do anything, dear colleague“, Napoleon replied gloomily. „Look, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theodor_K%C3%B6rner_(author)"&gt;Theodor Körner&lt;/a&gt; plays a weak backhand.“ In front of the stands the tennis-matches had begun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Friedrich_Ludwig_Jahn"&gt;Friedrich Ludwig Jahn&lt;/a&gt; sat on a high stool and refereed the men's doubles. Ajax I and II played against Theodor Körner and count Hardenberg. The ball flew to-and-fro. The two greeks played superbly together, being brothers. The german team however left much to be desired.&lt;br /&gt;„What a silly past-time, beating such a light ball around“, said Cesar. „If they would at least use a cannon-ball!“&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, he cried out in pain. Theodor Körner, who as we know played a bad backhand, had hit the ball out and, of course without any intention, right into Cesar's face. Now the roman dictator held his roman nose and was close to tears.&lt;br /&gt;„If they would at least had used a cannon ball!“, Ringelhut remarked viciously and Konrad fell of his seat in a fit of laughter.&lt;br /&gt;„You really are great heroes“, the uncle said, eying Cesar and Napoleon from head to toe and left the stands. Konrad and the roller skate horse followed suit.&lt;br /&gt;Before they left the stadium, they could hear the noise of the crowd around the running track. Alexander the Great and Achilles were just finishing the 100 metres. Alexander won, even though he had a bad start and ran 10.1 seconds. &lt;br /&gt;„That is another new world record!“, exclaimed Konrad. Negro Caballo remarked that he, while of course only being a horse, would only need 5 seconds.&lt;br /&gt;„But you have four legs“, said Konrad.&lt;br /&gt;„What a nonsense!“, Ringelhuth explained, „electricity has no legs and still runs faster than even a horse. By the way, if someone runs to stay healthy, I can understand that. But if he runs like an idiot, just to be a tenth of a second faster than someone else, than that is complete and utter tosh. That does not make one healthy, it makes one sick.“&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-8161171700633947717?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/8161171700633947717/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/finally-chapter-three-part-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/8161171700633947717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/8161171700633947717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/finally-chapter-three-part-one.html' title='finally - Chapter three part one!'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-8970113106858747111</id><published>2010-10-09T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T03:10:14.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the 2nd sun</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;what a terrible day to take up blogging again, but I feel I owe you some words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willi and I have been living in an open relationship for almost two years now. We had but one crisis a few weeks ago and that was sorted out. Now it is more or less over. Willi found a new guy, which would not be so bad, after all, this is an open relationship. But she has realized that he is so much more important to her and therefore, she spends almost all time with him and almost none with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had almost two wonderful, happy years with Willi. I still love her and I guess I will for some time. I am still convinced that she could have been "the one" for me. Her smile still makes me happy, her touch gives me comfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I do not think I can be the man in the second row, someone you only meet when the other guy has no time. She told me today that she does not think we will be seeing each other more than once a week. Which is a bit like having a long-distance-relationship while living in the same city...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a kind of last favor, I asked her to shave my hair today, in solidarity with my host-sister Becky. I love the Tunnells just as much as my biological family an the news that Becky had cancer shocked me deeply. While I lived in Snohomish, we did not have that much to do with each other, given that she was quite a few years older than me and had just started her own family. However, she was always dear to my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few hours after the shave, I had to find out that Becky had already passed away. So, instead of getting a haircut in solidarity to, it is now one in memory of Becky. &lt;br /&gt;My thoughts are with every one of her family and friends, especially with her husband Mike and her kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope, you will make it through this hard time and find solace in each other. I wish I could be with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Gerrit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: if you are wondering about the title of this entry, it is the name of a song by my favourite band, Deine Lakaien, you can find it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hqt9ZVAaKIk&lt;br /&gt;It fits my current mood very well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-8970113106858747111?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/8970113106858747111/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/2nd-sun.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/8970113106858747111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/8970113106858747111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/10/2nd-sun.html' title='the 2nd sun'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-264957825058635749</id><published>2010-06-11T04:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-11T06:18:01.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sumer is icumen in</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJvF9xucG90"&gt;Song of the week&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After spring was this year substituted by an extra round of autumn, this last week was the first without rain. &lt;br /&gt;The temperatures skyrocketed, up to 35°C yesterday. Unfortunately, it is rather humid and we spend the lst three days waiting for a thunderstorm, that so far has not come, yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had yet another students-protest-rally on wednesday and walking through the city was a pain. After two hours I felt close to passing out from the heat (a premiere for me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the upside, I finally managed to take up my summer-sports-programme again: take an hour-long bike-ride to the lake, swim for about 20 minutes, the cycle back home.&lt;br /&gt;So on wednesday, I got up at half past six, so I could cram the sport into the day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the lake is much nicer early in the morning. The pensioners have already finished their swim by the time a arrive and the youngsters are either still at school or in bed, so I have the lake mostly to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I have to share it with a bunch of water-birds. Wednesday I swam amongst a small family of coots. Almost too adorable...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I promise to update my Blog more frequently now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-264957825058635749?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/264957825058635749/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/06/sumer-is-icumen-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/264957825058635749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/264957825058635749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/06/sumer-is-icumen-in.html' title='Sumer is icumen in'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-43990095811185364</id><published>2010-05-07T02:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T02:19:58.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>спасибо, thank you, merci</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/S-Pa69Mk0PI/AAAAAAAAAEI/hn7PQDHES_E/s1600/danke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/S-Pa69Mk0PI/AAAAAAAAAEI/hn7PQDHES_E/s400/danke.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468455078952489202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8th of may '45 - only those who lost won't celebrate!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-43990095811185364?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/43990095811185364/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/05/thank-you-merci.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/43990095811185364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/43990095811185364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2010/05/thank-you-merci.html' title='спасибо, thank you, merci'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/S-Pa69Mk0PI/AAAAAAAAAEI/hn7PQDHES_E/s72-c/danke.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-3894104653481118904</id><published>2009-12-31T02:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T12:55:12.526-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Willi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Christmas at the village - Winter in the City</title><content type='html'>As every year, I went to my parents' place for the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing really interesting happened, just the usual stuff: getting up way too early on christmas day to sing at the morning service, lots of good food and seeing the family (i.e. laughing about the little ones' antics, playing cards with the others and depleting my parents' wine-cellar quite a bit).&lt;br /&gt;I went to a pub to meet some people back from school on the 23rd. Now I once again know how great Berlin is and why I moved there the first place. There were just too few nice people in Lemgo and too many that annoyed me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On christmas eve, however, a packet from the US showed up, full with honey and candles. Once again, I would like to thank the noble donor(s) and as proof that we put the present to good use, without much further ado, here are the pictures of Rachel's candles on our tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Szx5PuL8yNI/AAAAAAAAADA/TG6DzzMEytU/s1600-h/26122009123.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Szx5PuL8yNI/AAAAAAAAADA/TG6DzzMEytU/s320/26122009123.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421341362450385106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before lighting it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Szx5kE1AUJI/AAAAAAAAADI/T6XhlHIGt6o/s1600-h/26122009125.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Szx5kE1AUJI/AAAAAAAAADI/T6XhlHIGt6o/s320/26122009125.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421341712125546642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;detail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Szx518W5mGI/AAAAAAAAADQ/rGvjCzhTh7U/s1600-h/26122009128.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Szx518W5mGI/AAAAAAAAADQ/rGvjCzhTh7U/s320/26122009128.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421342019089438818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lighting it up (and switching off the lights)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather pretty, innit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today Willi and I went to visit a friend in a clinic, where he recovers from a nervous breakdown. The hospital is at the end of the world in a small village outside Berlin (actually not really IN the village as such, more OUTSIDE the village). So we took a trainride for about two hours and then hiked through the snow for about half an hour (no such thing as a bus out there). &lt;br /&gt;We had a great day outside.&lt;br /&gt;It was snowing the whole day, even inside Berlin, so now it looks more wintry than it has done in years... and I wish I had a sledge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0M8HloRpI/AAAAAAAAADY/1j-E61oDvzU/s1600-h/31122009129.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0M8HloRpI/AAAAAAAAADY/1j-E61oDvzU/s320/31122009129.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421503753392506514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Berlin in winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0NRSb8a7I/AAAAAAAAADg/ylgBzJJvjg4/s1600-h/31122009130.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0NRSb8a7I/AAAAAAAAADg/ylgBzJJvjg4/s320/31122009130.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421504117081926578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wintry Berlin again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0NtsBihsI/AAAAAAAAADo/do_IqIfDAoY/s1600-h/31122009131.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0NtsBihsI/AAAAAAAAADo/do_IqIfDAoY/s320/31122009131.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421504604986836674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arriving out in the sticks - a rather icy welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0OA1QuHbI/AAAAAAAAADw/hKf4F_voXc4/s1600-h/31122009132.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0OA1QuHbI/AAAAAAAAADw/hKf4F_voXc4/s320/31122009132.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421504933883944370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0OaHGRYOI/AAAAAAAAAD4/dzGZayxv6Yk/s1600-h/31122009133.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0OaHGRYOI/AAAAAAAAAD4/dzGZayxv6Yk/s320/31122009133.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421505368168685794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the road again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0OlUA828I/AAAAAAAAAEA/bmd1m3_QJJw/s1600-h/31122009134.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sz0OlUA828I/AAAAAAAAAEA/bmd1m3_QJJw/s320/31122009134.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421505560614591426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lake near the clinic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-3894104653481118904?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/3894104653481118904/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-at-village.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/3894104653481118904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/3894104653481118904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-at-village.html' title='Christmas at the village - Winter in the City'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Szx5PuL8yNI/AAAAAAAAADA/TG6DzzMEytU/s72-c/26122009123.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-6265695726338685990</id><published>2009-12-19T03:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T03:38:03.443-08:00</updated><title type='text'>White christmas</title><content type='html'>I know, it has been a while since I posted anything. Also, this post will be a short one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell ill last weekend and I am still not completely cured. I have a cold and my breath sounds like a rattle-snake (a mix of hissing and rattling, that is). That's why I have called off the christmas party that was supposed to take place today. &lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow's cheese-fondue on the other hand is scheduled to take place. I need people to be around me, but I do not think I could handle a party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from that, life is OK, I had a lot of stress over the last weeks, but now the holidays are approaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather turned very wintry two days ago and now we have - 12 degrees Celsius (around 10 degrees Fahrenheit) outside. Brrrrrr. Where is that bloody climate-change when you need it?&lt;br /&gt;Snow is still in rather short supply (only about 1-2 centimeters fell), though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-6265695726338685990?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/6265695726338685990/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/12/white-christmas.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/6265695726338685990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/6265695726338685990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/12/white-christmas.html' title='White christmas'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-2078132702895843559</id><published>2009-11-22T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T02:29:55.964-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recipe'/><title type='text'>Recipe: vegan strawberry-marzipan-cake</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Today will see something new on this blog: a recipe. With pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine had her birthday yesterday. So I decided to bake a cake. Since many of our friends are vegans, the cake had to be vegan as well.&lt;br /&gt;So here we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first principle of vegan baking is "Substitution".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we substitute margerine for butter. Now that was easy. Also it saves money.&lt;br /&gt;Now, how do we substitute the eggs? You could buy some really exspensive stuff made from soy. Or you could use apple sauce like I do. We will come back to the apple sauce later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second principle of vegan baking is "always read the label!"&lt;br /&gt;I did that beforehand while shopping, to make sure no animal-product smuggled itself into the cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here comes the step-by-step manual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First you assemble all the ingredients:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- 100 gramms of ground almonds&lt;br /&gt;- 100 gramms of magerine&lt;br /&gt;- 90  gramms of sugar &lt;br /&gt;- 3-4 spoons full of apple-sauce&lt;br /&gt;- some flour&lt;br /&gt;- about half a tea-spoon full of baking powder&lt;br /&gt;- about the same amount of vanilla sugar&lt;br /&gt;- some chocolate flakes&lt;br /&gt;- strawberries (I had to take frozen ones, since there are no fresh ones at the stores)&lt;br /&gt;- marzipan&lt;br /&gt;- coating chocolate&lt;br /&gt;- a pinch of salt&lt;br /&gt;- a CD. Take whatever you like. I used a great recording of Dvorak's cello concerto with Jaqueline Du Pré as soloist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Swl-lCft4vI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Cp8eR_0ZReU/s1600/Bild0019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Swl-lCft4vI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Cp8eR_0ZReU/s320/Bild0019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406992002425152242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first step, take the CD &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;carefully&lt;/span&gt; out of its case, put it into the CD-player and press "Play"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Swl_oUMpyBI/AAAAAAAAACA/1vbux7JVoYs/s1600/Bild0021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Swl_oUMpyBI/AAAAAAAAACA/1vbux7JVoYs/s320/Bild0021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406993158228264978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the music starts, mix sugar with fat. Then add the ground almonds, baking powder, vanilla sugar and salt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmDahU8kMI/AAAAAAAAACI/Vh8sJ5nBeq0/s1600/Bild0023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmDahU8kMI/AAAAAAAAACI/Vh8sJ5nBeq0/s320/Bild0023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406997319281053890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now add the apple-sauce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmGZmQqcpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/bl2Bmi4Nnis/s1600/Bild0024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmGZmQqcpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/bl2Bmi4Nnis/s320/Bild0024.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407000601960280722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then add enough flour to make the dough sticky instead of runny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmHDjs2TcI/AAAAAAAAACY/dStqgL9QxHg/s1600/Bild0025.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmHDjs2TcI/AAAAAAAAACY/dStqgL9QxHg/s320/Bild0025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407001322827697602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put the dough into a baking dish and put it into the oven for about 45 minutes with around 180° Celsius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmHvaZPeqI/AAAAAAAAACg/_68p2YrLaMA/s1600/Bild0029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmHvaZPeqI/AAAAAAAAACg/_68p2YrLaMA/s320/Bild0029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407002076243786402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the cake bakes, blend the strawberries with the marzipan and melt the coating chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;Since i could only get marzipan covered with chocolate, I had to "peel" the chocolate away. It was a bit more tedious this way, but at least I had chocolate leftovers to eat...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmJ4nRNKNI/AAAAAAAAACo/WYu7rbVzjiQ/s1600/Bild0030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmJ4nRNKNI/AAAAAAAAACo/WYu7rbVzjiQ/s320/Bild0030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407004433341819090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the cake has cooled out a bit, put the strawberry-marzipane mixture onto the cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmMl1Wh6yI/AAAAAAAAACw/oAJDpUZXOrM/s1600/Bild0033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmMl1Wh6yI/AAAAAAAAACw/oAJDpUZXOrM/s320/Bild0033.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407007409239616290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now add the chocolate coating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmNL-rsqgI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Vek7AkUpobQ/s1600/Bild0034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SwmNL-rsqgI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Vek7AkUpobQ/s320/Bild0034.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407008064579348994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then let the chocolate cool out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to do a non-vegan version of this cake, you take 3 eggs instead of the apple-sauce and a bit more sugar (100 gramms).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-2078132702895843559?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/2078132702895843559/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/recipe-vegan-strawberry-marzipan-cake.html#comment-form' title='3 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/2078132702895843559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/2078132702895843559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/recipe-vegan-strawberry-marzipan-cake.html' title='Recipe: vegan strawberry-marzipan-cake'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Swl-lCft4vI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Cp8eR_0ZReU/s72-c/Bild0019.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-637190089629029271</id><published>2009-11-13T06:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T07:27:19.566-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='university-squat'/><title type='text'>Intoxication by politic action</title><content type='html'>Over the last weeks, I have become rather sick of all the tedious everyday requirements of my office. I had to deal with way too much closed-mindedness from the university's administration, politicians and also, I have to admit, my colleagues as well as with the ever-mounting pile of paperwork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, this has changed this week. Once again, things are in motion. In the whole of Europe, over 30 universities and colleges have been squatted. We have squatted our big lecture hall two days ago after a plenary meeting of all interested students (unfortunately, only about 800 showed up). At first it looked like the university wanted to kick us out with help from the police, but by now they have accepted both the squat as well as the fact that no lectures will be held in the hall as long as we are staying there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last two days have been a lot of stress, of course and I spent pretty much all of yesterday answering phone calls from the press and giving interviews. I have only slept four hours per night and spent last night curled up on a sofa at our students' café (I really celebrated the shower I took an hour ago). However instead of stressing me out, the last two days were intoxicating. Elation comes from the feeling that things are finally in motion again and that we have comrades in the whole of Europe (though it is still mainly an austrian and german phenomenon). Knowing that you are not just some weird left-winger sitting in his office trying to work against the many faults in our educational system but that there are indeed lots of people who share your analysis of the situation and your willingness to fight is great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my american readers I will give a few basic informations about the protests:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a week of protest in summer in Germany. Unfortunately almost all we got were friendly words. A few weeks ago, students in Austria started to squat their universities in protest against the plans for new reforms of the austrian university-system. Main points were the terribly flawed change from the old system of academic grades to a perverted version of a bachelor/master-system (which basically turned university into just another type of school where you have almost no free choice of what to hear), the lack of funding for and the lack of democracy inside the universities, tuition-fees, the terribly selective school-system etc.&lt;br /&gt;Last week, german students (as well as polish, british and french) followed suit.&lt;br /&gt;We share most of the problems the austrians have.&lt;br /&gt;Also, there are of course always the specific problems of each individual university.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on wednesday, we finally decided to squat as well. We have organized into several small groups, each responsible for some specific task. There is the food-group which so far has provided us with great breakfast and dinner, the public-relations-group, which works ever more efficient as the time goes on (yesterday it still was a rather bumpy ride), the culture-group (organizing showing films, concerts, and the like) etc. &lt;br /&gt;There is a meeting of all squatters (and everyone else who is interested) twice a day, discussing everything that is on the agenda at that point.&lt;br /&gt;In the background we members of the student administration are there for everything that crops up (keeping in touch with the university's administration, or helping out with megaphone, press-contacts, computers, printers etc.).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far it all works more or less splendidly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will be a big demonstration on tuesday. We will see what happens after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just one very happy camper right now. Or at least a man in a tent who enjoys himself quite tremendously ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-637190089629029271?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/637190089629029271/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/intoxication-by-politic-action.html#comment-form' title='3 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/637190089629029271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/637190089629029271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/intoxication-by-politic-action.html' title='Intoxication by politic action'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-7673656078695198977</id><published>2009-11-11T11:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T11:26:51.312-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No new chapter tonight</title><content type='html'>I was going to translate a bit tonight, but that has been cancelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have squatted the great lecture hall of our university and now I am running around trying to organize things. &lt;br /&gt;The whole main building is surrounded by police and so far only the university's head of public relations keeps the police from storming the place. &lt;br /&gt;Also he keeps the university's president's aide from kicking us out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets wait and see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-7673656078695198977?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/7673656078695198977/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-new-chapter-tonight.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/7673656078695198977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/7673656078695198977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-new-chapter-tonight.html' title='No new chapter tonight'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-7098077982027876061</id><published>2009-11-09T14:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T14:29:21.870-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='misc'/><title type='text'>In between posts</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Today just a short update.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, I am back to more or less healthy again. Sure, my lungs still rattle like the contents of a kitchen-drawer, but I am feeling a lot better. Thanks for all the well-wishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I need your help with my translation. I need an &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Onomatopoeia"&gt;onomatopoeia&lt;/a&gt; for the sound of a blown trumpet (something like "Tada", but more trumpety). It is needed for the next chapter of the book and if you do not help me, I will have to make something up or just use the german original.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me end on a picture. Taken pretty much from my doorstep looking towards the city centre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SviXY3ulwpI/AAAAAAAAABw/RJIB-0KwFjQ/s1600-h/Bild0011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SviXY3ulwpI/AAAAAAAAABw/RJIB-0KwFjQ/s320/Bild0011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402234206562927250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-7098077982027876061?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/7098077982027876061/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/in-between-posts.html#comment-form' title='2 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/7098077982027876061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/7098077982027876061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/in-between-posts.html' title='In between posts'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SviXY3ulwpI/AAAAAAAAABw/RJIB-0KwFjQ/s72-c/Bild0011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-1923012669558319616</id><published>2009-11-08T10:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T10:27:49.952-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>The 35th of May, part four</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;second part of chapter two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Occasionally they met chickens. The chickens pulled little pans around and if they saw people coming along, they stopped and quickly laid fried eggs with ham or omelets with asparagus. Konrad declined. He was stuffed. So the chickens disappeared into the bushes, pulling their little pans behind them.&lt;br /&gt;„There seem to be no humans at all“, said the boy.&lt;br /&gt;„Of course there are some“, Ringelhuth said, „after all without humans the automate-trees would not make any sense.“&lt;br /&gt;The uncle was right. After a turn in the path they met some houses. The houses had wheels and were drawn by horses. That way the inhabitants could get everywhere while staying in bed. Also there were loudspeakers build into the bedroom-windows. If two cockaignians wanted to talk to each other, they let their houses draw up next to each other and then spoke over the loudspeakers. Without seeing each other's faces!&lt;br /&gt;Konrad pointed at two of these houses. Uncle and nephew tip-toed closer and heard a tired voice speak from one speaker. „Dear president“, said the one loudspeaker, „how is the weather today?“&lt;br /&gt;„I have no clue“, said the other one, „I have not left my bed in the last ten days“&lt;br /&gt;„Well“, the other grumbled, „you could at least look out off the window, after all you are governing us.“&lt;br /&gt;„Why don't you look out off the window, dear Hannemann?“&lt;br /&gt;„I'm lying with my face to the wall and am too lazy to turn around“&lt;br /&gt;„It is the same with me, my dear Hannemann“&lt;br /&gt;„Oh well, Mr president, I guess we have to miss out on the weather report.“&lt;br /&gt;„I agree with you, dear Hannemann, good bye and sleep well!“&lt;br /&gt;„Same to you, Mr. President, bye-bye!“ The two loudspeakers yawned. Then the houses rolled away from each other.&lt;br /&gt;„We should take a look at this president“, Ringelhuth suggested.&lt;br /&gt;They followed the slowly rolling presidential palace. When it stopped in an orchard of automate-trees, they couriously looked through the window.&lt;br /&gt;„What a fat guy“, whispered the uncle.&lt;br /&gt;„Good lord!“, Konrad exclaimed, „that is the fat Seidelbast!“&lt;br /&gt;„How do you know the president of Cockaigne?“&lt;br /&gt;„The fat Seidelbast had to repeat classes eleven times because he was so lazy.“, the boy explained. „He married in third grade and moved out off town. Rumor had it that he wanted to become a farmer. I had no clue that he became president of Cockaigne.“ Then Konrad tapped on the window and shouted: „Seidelbast!“&lt;br /&gt;The president, fat as a balloon, turned around in his bed and asked, clearly annoyed, „whazza matter?“&lt;br /&gt;„Don't you remember me?“, the boy asked.&lt;br /&gt;Seidelbast opened his small eyes, which were almost invisible in the fat face, smiled and asked: „What are you doing here, Konrad?“&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ringelhuth tipped his hat and said he was the uncle and that they were on their way to the South Sea.&lt;br /&gt;„I'll bring you to the border“, president Seidelbast said. „I just need to eat something first. Just a moment, dear sirs!“ He fumbled around in the bedside locker and pulled out a few pills. „A few piquant starters first.“ He took a white Pill and pressed a button. On the opposite wall a picture of sardines in oil and deviled eggs appeared. „Now a nice crispy duck-roast“, said the president, took a pink pill and again pressed a button. The picture of a grandiose duck-roast with baked apples and cucumber-salad appeared on the wall.&lt;br /&gt;„And now ice-cream with fruits“, Seidelbast said, took a yellow pill and again pressed on of the buttons. The wall showed a big cup full of ice-cream and peaches. &lt;br /&gt;„Why are you eating pills?“, asked the uncle. As an apothecary, he was of course very interested in that.&lt;br /&gt;„Eating would be too straining otherwise“. Claimed the president. „In the form of pills backed by slides, it tastes just as well with way less work.“&lt;br /&gt;While the two tourists were busy being baffled, Seidelbast rolled out off bed. He wore swimming trunks. All the other clothes were painted on: the shirt, the trousers, the jacket, the tie, the socks and the shoes. „Nice, isn't it?“, he asked. „My invention! All this constant putting clothes on or off takes way too much time. And is unnecessary work.“&lt;br /&gt;He groaned and sighed and left the room.&lt;br /&gt;It took quite a while before he rolled out off the house. He greeted his old school-friend quite cordially and shook the uncle's hand.&lt;br /&gt;„Before you run off to the South Sea, I have to show you our testing grounds“, he said. And then they walked slowly over a blue-grey meadow. Suddenly it started to rain. „I should have left the cane at home and instead have brought an umbrella“, said Ringelhuth.&lt;br /&gt;„Don't fret“, president Seidelbast said, „Now you can see what conveniences our country can offer!“ He was right, of course. Just as the first drops fell onto the earth, dozens of umbrellas grew on the meadow. One could step under one and wait out the rain. Or one could pull one out off the ground and carry it around.&lt;br /&gt;The three plucked one umbrella each and walked on.&lt;br /&gt;„Once the rain ends, they will fade again“, said Seidelbast. The two guests were duly impressed.&lt;br /&gt;The rain ended and the umbrellas faded like flowers. The president and his guests threw their umbrellas into the ditch.&lt;br /&gt;„The testing ground I have established“, Seidelbast said, „helps to entertain inhabitants with a lively fantasy without straining them.“&lt;br /&gt;„Please tell us more about it“, the uncle said.&lt;br /&gt;„To a normal cockaignian, the 24 hours of the day are just enough to eat and to sleep“, said Seidelbast. „You have to keep in mind that anyone under two and a half hundredweights has to leave the country. There are those who reach the national weight with ease, but who are extremely lively. What could we do? Boredom saps one's energy. The number of expelled could grow and the population density could drop. We had to find a way out. I'm quite proud to have found it. Here is the testing ground! Pay good attention!“&lt;br /&gt;They had arrived on a lawn. Around them stood beds and in the beds lay many people.&lt;br /&gt;„Whatever you think here will become real!“ said Seidelbast. „That is a great way to entertain oneself. If one has had enough, one just has to shout 'off you go' and it's gone.“&lt;br /&gt;„I don't believe you“, said Konrad, „Seidelbast, you're pulling my leg.“&lt;br /&gt;„I'll be damned!“, shouted the uncle. „Do you see the calf with two heads?“&lt;br /&gt;In front of one of the beds stood a calf with two heads and eyeballed with his four eyes the fat man who had wished it into existence. He giggled and eventually called „off you go!“ and the calf vanished.&lt;br /&gt;The three went on and came to a big lady. She was lying in a bed, too and had a thousand wrinkles on her forehead from thinking. Suddenly an old man with a vasculum stood in front of her. „Off you go!“, she grumbled and he was gone. Then she thought again and another old man with a vasculum in front of her bed. He looked a lot like the first one, he just had fewer teeth and longer white hair.&lt;br /&gt;„Off you go!“, commanded the woman, and he disappeared as well. And then a third man stood there, looking very similar to the other two. But he had a bigger nose and no hair. „Off you go!“ the woman shouted angrily and closed her eyes from exhaustion.&lt;br /&gt;„What are you doing there, Mrs Bruckner?“, asked Seidelbast.&lt;br /&gt;„Oh Mr. President“, the woman answered, „I'm trying to imagine my grandfather. But I can't get him together anymore. I have forgotten how he looked.“   &lt;br /&gt;„Don't get angry“, Seidelbast warned her. „Since last week you only weigh 255 pounds. I would be very sorry if I had to expel you from Cockaigne.“&lt;br /&gt;„I have been trying this for the last eight days“, the crying Mrs Bruckner said, „and every time I get the old man wrong. Good night, Seidelbast.“ Then she fell asleep. She had strained her brain that hard.&lt;br /&gt;„Look“, cried Konrad, „Look! Over there! A lion!“&lt;br /&gt;In front of one of the beds stood a huge blond lion with his giant mouth open, showing of his teeth.&lt;br /&gt;„Of course, ol' Borgmeier“, Seidelbast grumbled. „He thinks of wild beasts all the time. It is a fixation of his. I just hope it won't all end in tears.“&lt;br /&gt;The blond lion crept closer to the bed, arched his back and hissed terribly. Borgmeier went pale. „Back!“, he shouted, „Back off you stupid cat!“ But the lion came closer still. He was already nibbling on the blankets. „Go away!“, Borgmeier cried.&lt;br /&gt;„He is so afraid that he has forgotten that it is supposed to be 'Off you go!'“, Seidelbast said. „If he does not remember it quickly enough, he will be eaten, I'm afraid.“&lt;br /&gt;„In that case, I will just run over and shout it into the lion's ear“, said Konrad and started to walk over. But uncle Ringelhuth held him and said: „You stay here, young man. If I told your parents that you had been eaten by an imaginary lion, they would kill me.“&lt;br /&gt;Seidelbast also advised staying put. „It would not help“, he explained, „he has to say it himself.“&lt;br /&gt;In the mean time the lion had jumped onto the bed, stepped on his belly with his front paws, looked at him and was clearly moved. He had not had such a fat breakfast in a very long time. He open his mouth...&lt;br /&gt;„Off you go!“, Borgmeier cried, and the lion was gone.&lt;br /&gt;„Have you lost your mind?“, Seidelbast asked the shaking man. „I would be angry with you, if it wouldn't be that much work.“&lt;br /&gt;„I won't do it ever again!“, Borgmeier wailed.&lt;br /&gt;„You will not be allowed on the testing ground for the next 14 days“, said the president severely and went on with his visitors.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly uncle Ringelhuth began to shrink. „I'm going mad!“, he cried. „What's going on?“&lt;br /&gt;Konrad laughed and rubbed his hands. Seidelbast laughed as well and said: „You are quite a rascal.“&lt;br /&gt;And the uncle shrank more and more. Now he was just as tall as Konrad. And then just as tall as a cane. And in the end he was just as tall as a pencil.&lt;br /&gt;Konrad stooped down, took the small uncle in his hand and said: „I have imagined you to be as small as on the photograph we have at home.“&lt;br /&gt;„Stop joking around“, said the miniature-uncle. „Say 'Off you go!' at once!“ He raised his small hand as if he wanted to give his nephew a slap in the face, even though he was just as big Konrad's palm on which he was standing. „I order you!“&lt;br /&gt;Seidelbast laughed tears. The boy said to his uncle: „You ugly dwarf!“ and put him into his breast pocket. Now uncle Ringelhuth was looking out off there, waved about with his little arms and shouted until his voice was croaky.&lt;br /&gt;At that moment the horse showed up, and Konrad introduced him to the president.&lt;br /&gt;„I'm very honored“, said both. The horse praised Cockaigne to the sky. It was the ideal place to be for unemployed circus horses. And then he asked: „Where did our apothecary end up?“&lt;br /&gt;Konrad just pointed onto his pocket. The horse almost lost his straw hat out of astonishment. Now the boy told him how the uncle had shrunk and what had happened to them with Mrs Bruckner's grandfather and the lion.&lt;br /&gt;„Oh“, said the horse, „That is an idea I have to try out myself. I want my ball bearing roller skates here.“ And wham! He had four roller skates on his hooves, since he had imagined it that way.&lt;br /&gt;He was very happy about that and immediately made two eights and a pirouette. It was great joy for connoisseurs and laymen. Seidelbast said that he would applaud if he was not so lazy. The horse curtsied and thanked for the praise.&lt;br /&gt;„My dear nephew“, said uncle Ringelhuth, „please let me out off your pocket.“&lt;br /&gt;„My dear uncle“, replied Konrad, „I don't think so.“&lt;br /&gt;„No?“&lt;br /&gt;„No!“&lt;br /&gt;„Well, you wanted it this way“, said the uncle. „For that you shall get a giant head as punishment. And green hair. And instead of your fingers ten frankfurters.“&lt;br /&gt;And that's what happened. Konrad got a terribly big head with green hair on top. And on his hands ten frankfurters. The horse laughed and said he looked like something from a cheap ghost train ride. And Seidelbast gave a mirror to the boy so he could have a look at his new beauty. Konrad started to cry. And uncle Ringelhuth had to laugh so much because of the frankfurters that the pocket split.&lt;br /&gt;Seidelbast said they should have imagined something nice and wished for something good for others. „Alas, that's humans for you“, he growled wisely. „Now magic each other back, please.“&lt;br /&gt;So the uncle called out: „Off you go!“ and the nephew got his old appearance back. Now Konrad took the uncle from his pocket, put him down onto the lawn and also said: „Off you go!“&lt;br /&gt;The uncle had his old height back in no time.&lt;br /&gt;„Someone should have taken a picture of you, you looked rather stupid.“, said Seidelbast.&lt;br /&gt;„Lets get going then“, said the horse and pawed the ground with his roller skates. So they left the testing ground and Seidelbast accompanied them to the border.&lt;br /&gt;„Do you still have room in Cockaigne?“, Ringelhuth asked as they were saying good-bye.&lt;br /&gt;„Why?“, asked the president.&lt;br /&gt;„We have a lot of people who have nothing to do or to eat.“, answered the uncle.&lt;br /&gt;„Go away with those“, cried Seidelbast. „Those guys want to work! We have no use for people like that!“&lt;br /&gt;„Too bad“, said the horse. And then they shook each other's hands. Konrad and the uncle climbed onto their roller-skates-horse and rolled over the border. Seidelbast wave with the little finger to not tire too quickly and shouted: „Always straight ahead!“&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-1923012669558319616?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/1923012669558319616/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/35th-of-may-part-four.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/1923012669558319616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/1923012669558319616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/35th-of-may-part-four.html' title='The 35th of May, part four'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-3422434344069076253</id><published>2009-11-04T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T09:52:43.651-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>Back again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Welcome to Berlin. The outside temperature is way too cold and the weather is crap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last night in London was nicely quiet and surprisingly long. Going to bed before midnight has its good sides, too.&lt;br /&gt;I awoke to a great sunny autumn-morning, had one last full english breakfast and then went on my way. The flight was uneventful. But still not loving Ryanair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how was the trip? Here it comes, the blow by blow account:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got up rather early last friday. To be exact around 6. Went to the airport after some frantic last-minute packing, took the plane and showed up in Stansted around 11. The first thing I discovered was that England is a lot warmer than Berlin at this time of year. I needed not have packed my gloves after all. Bugger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found the cheapest transportation into London short of walking, a bus that dropped me off at Liverpool Street Station. A short look on the map should have told me that this was the wrong line, since I had an appointment under Nelson's column and the bus to Victoria would have suited me better. One never stops learning, right? &lt;br /&gt;That way I got to wander around a bit. After all, I was way too early anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty much exactly at 15:00 Linda and Rachel showed up. We had a short chat but postponed the real catching up until later, since Rachel wanted to go to the National Gallery. &lt;br /&gt;In the evening we met a friend of Linda and had pub-food for dinner. &lt;br /&gt;Since I had not been able to reach the people who I wanted to couchsurf with, I decided to sleep at the hostel. After we had dropped Linda off at the hostel (and stored my stuff), Rachel and I went out. We ended up driving around with busses, looking at London at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On sturday the girls wanted to go to Portobello Road market. I came along but let them to their market quickly and instead found me two shops for second hand books and CDs. I picked up a copy of Douglas Adam's Dirk-Gently-books (two books is not enough to call it a saga or cycle in my opinion) as well as a great recording of Schütz' Musikalische Exequien.&lt;br /&gt;Later we went to a completely different part of town to go to some bee-related shop Linda's friend had told us about. I got my revenge, though, by dragging them into a bookstore later on. I did not find what I was looking for ("Moab is my Washpot" by Stephen Fry, which I got this morning on my way to the airport) but instead could do some practical literary advisory for Rachel (i.e. bought her a book; "Good Omens" by Gaiman and Pratchett, which I can only recommend warmly to everyone who enjoys english humor).&lt;br /&gt;That evening saw Rachel and me realizing that we had nothing to dress up in for Halloween. So we went to the cinema to see "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus" which is a rather enjoyable little piece of fantasy-cinema. Also we could watch sexy dead people in it ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On sunday we originally had planned to go to Bath (the town, not the facility), but Linda did not feel so well and Rachel and I decided that the weather (rain, rain, rain) was more suitable to a day spend indoors, preferably a nice museum. So we were good little tourists and saw the Tower.&lt;br /&gt;After a bit more bussing around we decided to go to the movies again and ended up in "Surrogate", a quite OK sci-fi-flick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On monday we got our car and went to York (via Oxford). The trip had a bit adrenalin in it but apart from that was pleasant. I did, however, finally got sick and tired of fish and chips. It was good that Rachel and I had indian food for dinner ;-) It was really good indian food, too. Us two then took a walk through York, which was cut short by bad weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was to be my last day with the two. We poked around York for a bit. Unfortunately the minster was closed during the morning due to preparations for some big event.&lt;br /&gt;Also we go into a hailstorm during our tour.&lt;br /&gt;At this point I decided that I should take at least a few pictures, even if it was only with my cellphone. So here are the first two, from York's old abbey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG_UVdo1GI/AAAAAAAAABo/oBGKk_3w2UU/s1600-h/Bild0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG_UVdo1GI/AAAAAAAAABo/oBGKk_3w2UU/s320/Bild0003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400307784273679458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG5uIco-II/AAAAAAAAABA/gkZkKF8zf6w/s1600-h/Bild0004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG5uIco-II/AAAAAAAAABA/gkZkKF8zf6w/s320/Bild0004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400301630386665602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;notice the rather dramatic weather...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to Howard castle. After finding out that the Tunnells are a (rather disgraced) side-line of the Howard family, I had to take a picture of Linda and Rachel in front of their ancestral home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG6kYcFniI/AAAAAAAAABI/7o-tWcvpkiQ/s1600-h/Bild0009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG6kYcFniI/AAAAAAAAABI/7o-tWcvpkiQ/s320/Bild0009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400302562392251938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The park was beautiful, too and we were almost alone in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG69yBdf5I/AAAAAAAAABQ/kfstgyVXwfA/s1600-h/Bild0007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG69yBdf5I/AAAAAAAAABQ/kfstgyVXwfA/s320/Bild0007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400302998756622226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG71rnsF0I/AAAAAAAAABg/vMol-dF68Do/s1600-h/Bild0008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG71rnsF0I/AAAAAAAAABg/vMol-dF68Do/s320/Bild0008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400303959110588226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, they dropped me off at York station. It was finally time to say good-bye. I was very sad, but the world moves on.&lt;br /&gt;Over the whole trip the two made it rather clear to me that they would very much appreciate me going to Snohomish, rather sooner than later. The ways they presented their point to persuade me were a bit different, though.  &lt;br /&gt;At the ticket counter I was told that the next train to London would cost me 85 Pounds, but if I took a later one, I could get a ticket for 35. Which I of course did.&lt;br /&gt;That way, I had a chance to see the Minster and the remains of the castle. &lt;br /&gt;After waving Linda and Rachel a last good-bye, I went back into town. At the Minster, they were just preparing for the evensong service. Seeing a chance of getting into the Minster for free, I decided to attend the service. The name also promised good music to take place.&lt;br /&gt;I was a little bit disappointed. The choir sang very well, but the congregation was not allowed to sing anything. On the other hand, the service was over very quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a quick look at the castle (unfortunately, my cell-phone had just died, so no pictures) and then jumped unto the train to London.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus ends the lecture for today...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-3422434344069076253?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/3422434344069076253/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/back-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/3422434344069076253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/3422434344069076253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/back-again.html' title='Back again'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/SvG_UVdo1GI/AAAAAAAAABo/oBGKk_3w2UU/s72-c/Bild0003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-4412378675831862516</id><published>2009-11-03T14:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T08:35:21.191-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holiday'/><title type='text'>Holidays... and they are already over</title><content type='html'>First things first, I hate not being able to change the keyboard-layout at the youth hostel computers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just arrived back in London, after yesterday's roadtrip to York.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived in York alright and all in one piece. Rachel and I did have the occasional fight about where to turn, how to turn or how to not get us killed, but apart from that it was a nice trip. And she did really well, considering that it was her first attempt at left-side-driving. Don't mention the roundabout, though. At least during daytime. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is amazing how you get comfortable around people you have not seen for years almost instantly. And how sad it is to leave them again.&lt;br /&gt;I loved traveling with Linda and Rachel. I hope they see this in a similar way. I love them both tremendously and this trip just showed me again how much I miss the whole american meshpoche. &lt;br /&gt;Now I have to raise quite a lot of money to go to the States asap. I have left things there on their own for way too long ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A longer account of the trip (including precious few pictures) will have to wait until I am back in Berlin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I get home, I will also take my book-translation up again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-4412378675831862516?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/4412378675831862516/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/holidays-and-there-are-already-over.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/4412378675831862516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/4412378675831862516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/11/holidays-and-there-are-already-over.html' title='Holidays... and they are already over'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-3694840086624857979</id><published>2009-10-24T05:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T03:16:17.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 35th of May, part three</title><content type='html'>Chapter two - part one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entry for free! Children half price!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the dark inside of the wardrobe, Uncle Ringelhuth hit something hard. It was an old cane and he took it with him. After all, the way to the South Sea is long, he thought. And then he ran into the dark like an expert long-distance runner. High, derelict masonry lined the ghostly way at first. But suddenly the walls ended and the uncle found himself in a forest.&lt;br /&gt;But this forest did not consist of trees, but flowers! Gargantuan bellflowers as high as cedars, for example. If the wind blew, their stamen hit against the walls of the blooms. It sounded as if church-bells were rung. Together with the bellflowers stood irises, camomiles, columbines and roses of delightful colours. &lt;br /&gt;All the flowers in this forest were as big as century-old trees. The sun made the gigantic blossoms shine. The bellflower rang sweetly because a soft breeze was blowing.&lt;br /&gt;And uncle Ringelhuth ran to-and-fro, constantly shouting: „Konrad, where are you?“&lt;br /&gt;He ran for almost ten minutes before he caught up with the two runaways. Negro Caballo, the roller-skate-horse stood in front of a gigantic violet and nibbled on its green, carpet-like leaves. The nephew sat on the horse's back, looking up into the flower-trees and sucking on his thumb (even if he in fact was too grown up for that).&lt;br /&gt;„I'll go mad!“, the uncle cried and dried his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief. „I'll go mad!“, he repeated. „Firstly, you run away. And secondly you drag me into a forest – well, such a forest as I never saw my entire life.“&lt;br /&gt;„Incidentally, are we near the South Sea, yet?“, Konrad asked.&lt;br /&gt;„Take the thumb out of your mouth when speaking to us!“, ordered the uncle. The startled Konrad did so immediately, looked at his thumb as if he had never seen it before and was very ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;The horse said „Mount up!“ The uncle jumped onto the horse's back, held on to his nephew, slapped the horse with his cane and off they went!&lt;br /&gt;The black horse was in an excellent mood and recited Goethe: „Who rides there so late through the night dark and drear?/The father it is, with his son so dear“&lt;br /&gt;But Konrad said: „We are uncle and nephew, not father and son!“&lt;br /&gt;And Ringelhuth added: „Why night? You are exagerating. Why don't you just gallop on instead?“&lt;br /&gt;„Okay“, said the horse and ran even quicker through the forest of flowers. &lt;br /&gt;Konrad gripped the mane and the uncle gripped Konrad. And the meat salad and the raspberry-sauce got into a fight in their stomachs. The roses shone in all colours. The bellflowers rang quietly. And uncle Ringelhuth said to himself: „I wish we were there, yet!“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the horse stopped. „What's the matter?“, asked Konrad, who had closed his eyes during the ride.&lt;br /&gt;They stood right in front of a tall wooden fence. On the fence there was a sign. And the sign read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here begins Cockaigne &lt;br /&gt;Entry for free!&lt;br /&gt;Children half price!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncle Ringelhuth slid slowly off the horse, took a good look at the sign and the fence and said: „Something's wrong here!“&lt;br /&gt;„Why?“, asked the horse.&lt;br /&gt;„The fence has no entry“, explained the uncle. Now the two others also realized that there was no door. Konrad stood on Negro Caballo's back, gripped the fence and tried to climb over it. But Ringelhuth caught the boys ankle. „You are a complete fool, my son.“, he whispered. „Do you really think you can climb into Cockaigne? Everyone knows that the most lazy people on the whole wide earth. People like that do not climb!“&lt;br /&gt;But the boy was relentless. He held onto the fence's railing and slowly pulled himself up. „I can almost see over it“, he said. At that moment, a giant hand appeared out off thin air and gave him such a slap in the face that Konrad let go of the fence and fell into the grass, holding his cheek.&lt;br /&gt;„You see,“ the uncle said, „one does not have to climb everytime, just because one can.“&lt;br /&gt;He signaled them to be quiet, leaned against a tree and called out: „If these guys think we will climb over their blasted wall, they could not be more wrong. We'd rather stay here.“&lt;br /&gt;Then he yawned theatrically and went on: „I guess the wisest move now is to have a nap.“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had just finished that sentence, when a small door opened up in the fence, even though there had not been a door just moments ago.&lt;br /&gt;A voice called out: „Please enter!“&lt;br /&gt;They walked through the door. The first thing they saw was a gigantic bed. In the bed lay a fat man and said: „I'm the porter. What do you want?“&lt;br /&gt;„We are heading to the South Sea“, replied uncle Ringelhuth.&lt;br /&gt;„Straight ahead!“, said the porter, turned around in his bed and started to snore.&lt;br /&gt;„I hope the snoring does not strain you too much“, said uncle Ringelhuth, but the fat man was already fast asleep again. Or he was to lazy to answer. Who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Konrad looked at the landscape. They were obviously standing in an orchard. „Look, uncle!“, the boy shouted. „Cherries, apples, pears and plums grow on the same tree here!“ &lt;br /&gt;„It is more practical this way“, mused the uncle.&lt;br /&gt;But the horse was not yet satisfied with Cockaigne. „As long as you still have to pick the fruits yourself, this land does not impress me that much.“&lt;br /&gt;Konrad, who had looked at one of the four-fruit-trees a bit closer, waved both the uncle and the horse over. What they saw then, was really terribly practical. On each tree there was a small automat with levers and instructions: „turn left lever once: 1 peeled and cut apple“, it said. „Turn left lever twice: 1 mixed fruit salad.“ „Turn right lever once: 1 slice plum cake with cream.“&lt;br /&gt;„This is great“, said the uncle and turned the right lever twice. A bell chimed and a plate of cherry jam came out off the machine.&lt;br /&gt;Now all three started to work the trees and ate. The horse had the greatest hunger and ate everything from two trees and could not stop. Then uncle Ringelhuth wanted to go on. The horse said: „Just go, I will catch up with you later!“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so Konrad and his uncle marched on deeper into Cockaigne.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-3694840086624857979?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/3694840086624857979/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/10/35th-of-may-part-three.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/3694840086624857979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/3694840086624857979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/10/35th-of-may-part-three.html' title='The 35th of May, part three'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-1553587491347384643</id><published>2009-10-20T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T17:13:44.630-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>The 35th of May, part two</title><content type='html'>And here we go again. The second part of the first chapter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Negro Caballo laughed neighingly. And then they walked back inside to play Authors. The horse won the whole time. He knew all the classical names and works by heart. Uncle Ringelhuth on the other hand was a complete failure. As a pharmacist he knew which diseases the poets had and how they were cured or from what they died. But he had no idea about their novels or dramas.&lt;br /&gt;It was unbelievable. He thought Schiller's „Song of the Bell“ was by Goethe!&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, Konrad jumped up, threw his cards away and ran to the bookcase. He took a heavy book from the the top shelf, sat down on the carpet and started to browse.&lt;br /&gt;„We don't want to be intrusive, but maybe you could explain to us what you are doing? Why do you leave the game?“, asked the uncle. „By the way, I am still missing a comedy by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. I just know that his wife, a certain Eva König, died shortly after giving birth. The child died a day later and Lessing himself didn't have that much longer to live afterwards either.“&lt;br /&gt;„What you are telling us does not sound like a comedy to me“, said the horse. Then he whispered to uncle Ringelhuth: „Minna of Barnhelm.“&lt;br /&gt;„No! Her name was Eva König, not Minna of Bornholm!“, the uncle shouted angrily.&lt;br /&gt;„Heavens!“, murmured the horse. „Minna of Barnhelm was not Lessing's wife, but the name of the comedy!“&lt;br /&gt;„Ah!“, said Ringelhuth. „Why didn't you say so before? Konrad, hand over the Minna of Bornholm!“&lt;br /&gt;Konrad sat on the carpet, browsed the book and said nothing.&lt;br /&gt;„Would you please kick my nephew awake?“, asked Ringelhuth his four-legged guest. The horse trotted over to Konrad, took him by the collar and lifted him into the air with his teeth. But Konrad did not take any notice of this. He just browsed and browsed the book, even though the horse had lifted him into the air. He looked worried.&lt;br /&gt;„I can't find it, uncle“, he said suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;„What?“ Ringelhuth asked. „Minna of Bornholm?“&lt;br /&gt;„The South Seas“, said Konrad.&lt;br /&gt;„The South Seas?“ asked the surprised horse. Since he had to open his mouth to speak, Konrad fell onto the floor. Noisily.&lt;br /&gt;„We're lucky that Mühlenbergs' chandelier is already broken“, said the uncle and rubbed his hands with glee. „But what are we supposed to do with the blasted Sotuh Sea?“ He turned to the horse. „My nephew has to write an essay on the South Sea for school“ &lt;br /&gt;„Because I'm good at math“, Konrad explained. He was annoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The horse thought on this for a moment. Then he asked the uncle whether he had the afternoon off. &lt;br /&gt;„Sure“, said Ringelhuth, „I always work the night shift in the pharmacy on thursdays.“ &lt;br /&gt;„Great!“, exclaimed Negro Caballo, „then we can just go there!“&lt;br /&gt;„To the pharmacy?“ Konrad and his uncle asked as one.&lt;br /&gt;„No“, said the horse, „to the South Seas of course.“ And then he asked whetehr he could use the telephone. Uncle Ringelhuth nodded and the horse loped over to the phone. He took the receiver, dialed a number and said: „Hello, is this the travel agency for circus horses? I want to talk to the Big Nag personally! Oh, its you. How are you? The mane grays? Well we all are not the youngest anymore, aren't we? Can you tell me how to get to the South Seas in the quickest possible manner? I want to be back by dinner. A problem? Big Nag, stop messing around! Where am I? At a friend's place, a certain Ringelhuth. Johann Mayer Street 13. What? Now that's what I call good news. Thank you very much!“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He neighed three times into the receiver as a good-bye and turned around and asked: „Mister Ringelhuth, do you own an old wardrobe in your corridor? It is supposed to be from the 15th century.“&lt;br /&gt;„Even if that was the case, what has my wardrobe to do with the South Seas and your Big Nag?“, Ringelhuth asked back.&lt;br /&gt;„We are supposed to go into the wardrobe and then straight o. In about two hours we should arrive at the South Seas.“, the horse explained.&lt;br /&gt;„Pardon? Stop fooling around“, Uncle Ringelhuth said. Konrad however ran into the corridor, opened the jarring door of the old wardrobe, clambered into it and out of view. &lt;br /&gt;„Konrad!“, the uncle called. But the boy did not answer. „I'll be damned, why doesn't he answer?“&lt;br /&gt;„He is probably already on his way“, said the horse.&lt;br /&gt;Now Ringelhuth lost all restraints. He ran over to the wardrobe, looked into it and cried: „It's true! It has no back wall!“&lt;br /&gt;The horse, who had followed him said reproachfully: "How could you doubt that? Just get into it"&lt;br /&gt;"After you, please", said Uncle Ringelhuth, "after all, this is my home."&lt;br /&gt;The horse stepped into the wardrobe with his front hooves. Ringehuth pushed with all force, until Caballo was inside the wardrobe. Then he clambered into it himself.&lt;br /&gt;"Now doesn't this look promising", he said in desperation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-1553587491347384643?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/1553587491347384643/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/10/35th-of-may-part-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/1553587491347384643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/1553587491347384643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/10/35th-of-may-part-two.html' title='The 35th of May, part two'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-8362810054224206574</id><published>2009-10-17T07:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T14:34:10.455-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='35th of May'/><title type='text'>The 35th of may - new series</title><content type='html'>I just bought the birthday-present for my nephew, a book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is "the 35th of May" by &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erich_K%C3%83%C2%A4stner"&gt;Erich Kästner&lt;/a&gt; and one of the best german children's books ever written.&lt;br /&gt;Since it has been out of print in the english world for what seems to be decades, I decided that I would translate it and publish the translation here on my blog.&lt;br /&gt;After all, most of my american friends have children or grandchildren and might find this good reading-material for them.&lt;br /&gt;Also I am sure that most grown-ups will also enjoy this book immensely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we go with the first part of the first chapter. If you like it, tell me and I will add more chapters later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/StnlXUqSGsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/_eSzFZIUUIk/s1600-h/35Mai_o_Konrad.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/StnlXUqSGsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/_eSzFZIUUIk/s320/35Mai_o_Konrad.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393594217598687938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It was the 35th of May&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the 35th of May. It was no surprise that Uncle Ringelhuth was not surprised by anything. If that which happened today had happened to him on any other day, he surly would have thought that he or the world would be a few cards short of a deck. But on the 35th of May, one has to be prepared for everything.&lt;br /&gt;Also it was a Thursday. Uncle Ringelhuth had just picked up his nephew Konrad from school. Now they were walking down Glacis Street. Konrad looked downtrodden. His uncle did not notice and instead looked forward to lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I go on with the story, I should give you a family-historic introduction. Well: Uncle Ringelhuth was the brother of Konrad's father. And since he was still unmarried and lived on his own, he picked up Konrad from school every Thursday. They had lunch together and took coffee. Only in the evening, the boy was returned to his parents. These Thursdays always were very funny. Uncle Ringelhuth had no wife who could cook lunch and he himself had never learned it! He also had no maid. That is why on Thursdays, he and Konrad ate the weirdest food. Sometimes they had cooked ham with whipped cream. Or pretzels with cranberries. Or cherry-cake with english mustard. They preferred english mustard since it is very hot and stings like a bee.&lt;br /&gt;After lunch, when they felt really sick, they looked out of the window and laughed so hard that the neighbors thought: "Apothecary Ringelhuth and his nephew have unfortunately lost their minds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, they were walking along Glacis Street and the uncle asked: "What's with the glum face?", when someone pulled on his jacket. When the two turned around, there was a big black horse. With a straw hat. It asked politely: "Have you by any chance a lump of sugar on you?"&lt;br /&gt;Konrad and the uncle shook their heads.&lt;br /&gt;"In that case, please excuse the trouble", said the horse and lifted his hat. As it prepared to leave, uncle Ringelhuth asked: "Can I offer you a cigarette?" "Thanks but no", replied the horse, "I'm a non-smoker." It bowed and trotted towards Albert Place, halted in front of a delicatessen and left its tongue hanging from its mouth.&lt;br /&gt;"We should have invited the horse for lunch", the uncle said, "it looks hungry". Then he looked at Konrad and asked: "What's the matter, Konrad? You're not even listening!"&lt;br /&gt;"I have to write a paper on the south seas."&lt;br /&gt;"About the south seas?", the uncle said, "now that is dire."&lt;br /&gt;"It is terrible", Konrad replied. "Everyone who is good at maths has to do the blasted south seas. Because we lack imagination! Everyone else has to describe a house being built. That is a piece of cake compare to the south seas. That's what you get for being good a mathematics!"&lt;br /&gt;"You may not have an imagination", said Uncle Ringelhuth, "but I'm your uncle and that's just as well. We'll present your teacher with a south sea that he won't know what hit him!"&lt;br /&gt;Then he stepped of the sidewalk with one foot and hobbled on. Even Konrad was just a human, he got amused.&lt;br /&gt;And when the hobbling uncle greeted a man and right afterwards said: "Disgusting, that was my enforcement officer", the boy could not help himself and giggled as if tickled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the arrived at the uncle's flat, they went straight to lunch. They had chopped bacon quiche and meat salad with raspberry-juice. "The old Spartans even ate blood-soup without making a fuss", the uncle said. "How does it taste, old sport?"&lt;br /&gt;"Wonderfully terrible", Konrad answered. "One has to harden oneself", the uncle said. "As soldiers we got noodles with herring and as students rice cooked in saccharin. Who knows what they will serve you once you are older. Eat, my boy, until your stomach gets an armor!"&lt;br /&gt;With that he put some more raspberry-juice on Konrad's meat salad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lunch, they looked out of the window for fifteen minutes, waiting to feel ill. But that never happened. After that they did gymnastics. The uncle helped his nephew up onto the big bookcase and Konrad did a handstand. "Just a minute", Ringelhuth said, "keep upside down for a bit longer!" He brought his eiderdown from the bedroom and laid it down before the bookcase. Then he orderend: "Jump!", and Konrad jumped off the case onto the eiderdown.&lt;br /&gt;"Great", the uncle yelled. He took a run-up and jumped over the table. After that they heard a crack and a lot of tinkling from downstairs. Awestruck, uncle said:"That was Mühlenbergs' chandelier."&lt;br /&gt;They waited for a few minutes, but no one knocked and no one rang either.&lt;br /&gt;"Mühlenbergs are probably not at home", Konrad said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the bell did ring! The boy ran outside, opened the door and came back pale. „The big black horse is here“, he whispered.&lt;br /&gt;„Let it in!“, uncle Ringelhuth ordered. So the nephew let the animal in. It lifted his straw hat and asked: „I hope I am not bothering you?“&lt;br /&gt;„No way!“, the uncle cried. „Please, take a seat!“&lt;br /&gt;„I prefer to stand“, said the horse. „Please do not think me to be rude, but we horses are not configured for sitting.“&lt;br /&gt;„As you please“, the uncle replied. „May I ask why you honour us with your visit?“&lt;br /&gt;The horse looked at them with its big, serious eyes. It was a bit embarrassed. „You two looked so nice to me from the beginning.“&lt;br /&gt;„Thanks“, Konrad bowed. „Do you still want some sugar?“ He did not wait for the answer but ran straight into the kitchen and brought the sugar, put one lump after the next on his palm and the horse ate without pause about half a pound. Then it sighed and said: „Well, that was just in time! Thanks a lot, dear sirs! May I introduce myself? My name is Negro Caballo! Until late April, I performed my famous roller-skate-act at the circus. Then they fired me and since then I have not earned a single dime.“&lt;br /&gt;„Well, well“ said uncle Ringelhuth, „the same happens to both humans and animals.“&lt;br /&gt;„These bloody cars!“, Negro Caballo continued. „The machines ruin us horses. I even tried to work as a carriage-horse, even though I am a horse with a higher education. But even the secretary-general of the Federal Coach-Horse-Association could not help me. And he is one important nag. By the way, this rhinozeros of a mare drives a car himself!“&lt;br /&gt;„Under these circumstances you shouldn't be surprised by anything anymore“, uncle Ringelhuth explained.&lt;br /&gt;„You are a good man.“ The horse was moved and hit him on the shoulder. &lt;br /&gt;„Ouch!“, cried Ringelhuth.&lt;br /&gt;Konrad wagged his finger at the horse. „If you damage my uncle, you'll have to deal with me!“&lt;br /&gt;The horse showed his teeth and laughed noiselessly. Then he apologised. „I did not mean to harm him.“&lt;br /&gt;„It's OK“, said the uncle and rubbed his shoulder. „Be more careful the next time, my dear Negro Caballo. I am not as strong as a horse.“&lt;br /&gt;„I shal pay more attention“, promised the horse, „I give you my word as the best roller-skate-act amongst all the mammals!“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then all three looked out of the window. As it looked down onto the street, the horse became dizzy. He closed his eyes and became pale. Konrad said he should be ashamed of himself and so he slowly opened his eyes again.&lt;br /&gt;„Don't fall down“, Ringelhuth said. „I cannot have a horse falling out of my window down onto the Johann-Mayer Street.“&lt;br /&gt;Negro Caballo said: „You see, we horses seldomly have an opportunity to look out from the third floor. But I'm better now. I still would be grateful if you two would stand on either side.“&lt;br /&gt;So the horse stood between the two, put his head far out of the window and ate two fuchsias and a begonia from the neighbors' balcony completely. He did leave the pots. After all, he was a friendly horse.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly there was a huge commotion in the street. There was a small, round man waving his arms and screaming: „This does it! You take that horse out of the window immediately! You still do not know the rules, do you? It is forbidden to bring horses into the flat!“&lt;br /&gt;„Who is that?“, the horse asked.&lt;br /&gt;„Oh, that's just my landlord, Clemens Waffelbruch“, the uncle answered.&lt;br /&gt;„What an impudence“, the small fat Mister Waffelbruch shouted. „You will reimburse Lehmanns for the flowers this nag has eaten from their balcony! Got that?“&lt;br /&gt;At this the horse started to shiver. Hoho, he would not allow this man to insult him! He took one of the empty pots in his teeth and let it fall from the window. The pot fell – as if it was in an extraordinary hurry – straight down and hit the shouting landlord on the hat. Mister Clemens Waffelbruch kneeled and went quiet. He looked up again, lifted his demolished hat and said: „I'll be going then.“&lt;br /&gt;Then he hobbled back into the house.&lt;br /&gt;„If that man had not left, I would have dropped the whole balcony on his hat one piece at a time“, said the horse.&lt;br /&gt;„That would have been way too expensive for me“, uncle Ringelhuth protested, „let us go back inside!“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;next part of the chapter hopefully up on monday&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-8362810054224206574?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/8362810054224206574/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/10/35th-of-may-new-series.html#comment-form' title='2 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/8362810054224206574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/8362810054224206574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/10/35th-of-may-new-series.html' title='The 35th of may - new series'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/StnlXUqSGsI/AAAAAAAAAAw/_eSzFZIUUIk/s72-c/35Mai_o_Konrad.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-2106642236038699204</id><published>2009-10-02T01:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T01:58:07.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving on a jet plane</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: webdings;"&gt;I bought my tickets to London yesterday. Bloody &lt;/span&gt;Ryanair sold me one for 35 Euros. And then took another 30 Euros for luggage. Also they fined me 10 Euros for not using their Ryanair Master Card to pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they are still the cheapest carrier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I need to get my hands on a good travel guide to look what I want to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and also, I need accomodation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on to Couchsurfing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And before I forget: I will be in London from the 30th of October to the 4th of November.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-2106642236038699204?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/2106642236038699204/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/10/leaving-on-jet-plane.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/2106642236038699204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/2106642236038699204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/10/leaving-on-jet-plane.html' title='Leaving on a jet plane'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-2576957124172322925</id><published>2009-09-26T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T10:26:40.581-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holidays'/><title type='text'>London calling</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/13423265966091830574"&gt;Linda&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/01451047712000205942"&gt;Rachel &lt;/a&gt;are coming to Britain at the end of October, or so I have been told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have not seen either since 2004, so now I am planning a trip to London myself.&lt;br /&gt;Since I have not had a real vacation this summer (No, going to my parents' place does not count. At all.), I do not even have a guilty conscience for leaving Berlin for a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer was rather eventful in university-politics. Therefor I did not dare leave Berlin too long. But by now I reached a point at which I could not care less. Work can eat my pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I am very much looking forward to seeing the two again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I just need to find cheap tickets. Or rob a bank.&lt;br /&gt;Since London is so expensive, I will probably need to rob a bank anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now my cake should have cooled out enough so I can go to the birthday party. Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently listening to: Dvorák's Cello-Concerto in b minor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-2576957124172322925?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/2576957124172322925/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/london-calling.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/2576957124172322925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/2576957124172322925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/london-calling.html' title='London calling'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-3069729254862115678</id><published>2009-09-25T00:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T01:01:34.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>because of repeated requests from a young lady...</title><content type='html'>... here a video of our choir's Verdi-project this spring...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you can find me (but hopefully not hear me out of the choir).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="225"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3008243&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3008243&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="225"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/3008243"&gt;Verdi-Requiem&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/user1229107"&gt;Cantus Domus&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-3069729254862115678?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/3069729254862115678/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/because-of-repeated-requests-from-young.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/3069729254862115678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/3069729254862115678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/because-of-repeated-requests-from-young.html' title='because of repeated requests from a young lady...'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-4992292554586849138</id><published>2009-09-23T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T10:33:24.449-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='films'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='favourite things'/><title type='text'>I wanna tell you 'bout a...</title><content type='html'>...film, not a girl. Though a girl will play a part in it and also the song from which's introduction the header for today's post is taken...&lt;br /&gt;Most of my friends from Germany (not necessarily my friends who are german citizens) probably know by now about my obsession with the film "der Himmel über Berlin" (Wings of Desire in english), so they may safely skip this entry.&lt;br /&gt;Unless of course they want to find out about one of the best films ever made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story is told in a few seconds and - to be honest - is not so important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the Berlin of the 80es, angels walk amongst humans, but are unable to interact with them. They can hear our thoughts and feel echoes of our emotions, yet are insubstantial.&lt;br /&gt;Children sometimes notice them, but grown-ups have lost this ability.&lt;br /&gt;Through the monocrome city, two angels, Cassiel (Bruno Ganz) and Damiel (Otto Sander) walk. They fullfill their role as celestial archivists, giving testimony to the lives of humans and nature alike. They have done so for billions of years, since the beginning of the world.&lt;br /&gt;Now they grow ever more weary of their existance and ever more curious for the sensations of human life. Just knowing what it must be like to come home to feed the cat or for once not knowing everything has become an attractive prospect.&lt;br /&gt;Then one day, Cassiel falls in love with Marion, a trapeze artist (Solveig Dommartin) in a small circus.&lt;br /&gt;With the help from a stragne american filmstar (Peter Falk, basicly playing himself), who seems to know the angels are around him, even though he is long grown up, Damiel crosses over into the mortal world and eventually finds Marion at a Nick-Cave-Concert (now we have returned to the words in the header). The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds vaguely familiar? Well, there was an american remake in the 90es, city of angels. That was a revolting piece of sugary romance and I will not lose any more words on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what makes Wings of Desire into such a great film?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, it is not an easy film to get into at first. The first 20 minutes or so go on without any plot-progression at all, it is just a sort of meditation.&lt;br /&gt;But the pictures!&lt;br /&gt;The camera is controlled by &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0002162/"&gt;Henri Alekan&lt;/a&gt;, the grand seigneur of the camera and he shot some of the best shots ever done in cinema.&lt;br /&gt;As long as we follow the viewpoint of the angels, the picture is in monocrome, showing how detached the angels are from the world.&lt;br /&gt;Only when the point of view switches to humans and after Cassiel "falls", the film goes over to colour.&lt;br /&gt;Add to that the superb music (some of the best contemporary music ever written for the cello) and the composition is unbeatable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A big part of the dialogue was improvised and the rest was mostly done by playwright Peter Handke (this was before he went completely Bananas).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter Falk plays himself as a former angel, celebrating the little wonders of life. "To smoke, and have coffee - and if you do it together, it's fantastic." Even if you disagree with smoking, it does not change the point...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alltogether this is a very poetic piece of cinema.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those of you you care for this stuff: the film is rated PG-13...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now three little videos to give you an impression of the look and feel of the film:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0htOcy1QUkk&amp;amp;hl=de&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0htOcy1QUkk&amp;amp;hl=de&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The official trailer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tYEHl_fV3x0&amp;amp;hl=de&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tYEHl_fV3x0&amp;amp;hl=de&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the man on the bridge - right from the middle of the film&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZS_GagmpfvU&amp;amp;hl=de&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZS_GagmpfvU&amp;amp;hl=de&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scene at the Nick Cave concert, once again we return to the header of this posting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, go get this film and watch it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: there is a sequel, Farawy so close, which is a lot more standard fare when it comes to storytelling and not as good as the first one, but still quite OK.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-4992292554586849138?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/4992292554586849138/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-wanna-tell-you-bout.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/4992292554586849138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/4992292554586849138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-wanna-tell-you-bout.html' title='I wanna tell you &apos;bout a...'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-8190923435744498555</id><published>2009-09-22T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T17:35:35.961-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='choir'/><title type='text'>I want to siiiiiiing!</title><content type='html'>The bad news arrived yesterday. My choir's next concert will be in a rather confined place and too many basses wanted to sing it, so two had to go. Since i did not sing the last project (I did not have the time thanks to just taking over a new office with the student administration and I did not like &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_CXdfAGjeA"&gt;Brahm's Liebesliederwalzer&lt;/a&gt; that much anyway), I am out. At least for this project (and I really looked foreward to the Messiah). Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;More time for other things, one might think. But the problem is, I really miss singing.&lt;br /&gt;So now I have to embark on a quest for a new choir.&lt;br /&gt;This should be easy, we are in Berlin, after all. There are very few places on Earth with more choirs. Alas, I have a few expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The choir has to fit my timetable. A timetable I more or less build around the other choir's rehearsals.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The average age in the choir should not be too old. I have sung in three choirs in the past, where most people were 50 years old and older. While the music was good, the social life inside the choir happened without me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The choir should perform with a certain amount of quality. I am used to sing in a very good choir and do not want to lose that.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Last but not least, after singing in a rather big choir focusing on oratories, I now want a smaller ensemble for a capella works.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This narrows it down quite a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, next saturday, a friend of mine is celebrating her birthday and since she sings as well, there might be a few people there who could help me out with suggestions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will keep you informed on any new development.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently reading: "The Hippopotamus" by Stephen Fry. Review shall follow as soon as I am done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-8190923435744498555?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/8190923435744498555/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-want-to-siiiiiiing.html#comment-form' title='1 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/8190923435744498555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/8190923435744498555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-want-to-siiiiiiing.html' title='I want to siiiiiiing!'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-142672544197835230</id><published>2009-09-14T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T17:13:50.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>just a few basic things</title><content type='html'>First of all, why did I start this blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. I do post on two other blogs, with a different user-name (Ajaw). Those two blogs are purely political, both concerning themselves (one of them more so than the other) almost only with university-politics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted an own blog, mainly for the entertainment of friends (and maybe family), to keep people updated on what is going on in my life. Since I have known myself now for most of my life, I predict that I will not be able to keep away from politics completly. It is just so ingrained in my personality to think in political categories.&lt;br /&gt;I hope you can bear the occasional rant. I promise to try to keep it short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I already have a blogger-account, why do I not use that one and instead create a new one? Well, I do not want my political life to interfere with my normal life more than necessary. I know for sure that some people I consider my political opponents do read the other two blogs. In fact they comment on them. I do not want them to transgres on my private ground. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is this blog in english? Well, my friends all speak at least reasonably good english, while none of my non-german friends bar one or two speak any german at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will there be photos? Yes, but (at least in the beginning) very few.&lt;br /&gt;I will not post pictures of my friends (let alone my girlfriend - anyone who wishes to see a picture of her may email me) unless they allow me to do so.&lt;br /&gt;I will also not post many pictures of myself, simply because there are almost none (and even less good ones) which show my current appearance.&lt;br /&gt;For the moment I have no good digital camera and I certainly lack the funds to by one. Since I also have no access to a good scanner I can use privately, there will be precious few pictures of the city. At least until I scrounge up enough to buy a new camera. Then there will be pictures aplenty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is prettymuch everything for the start. A short update on my personal affairs will be online tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night,&lt;br /&gt;Gerrit&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-142672544197835230?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/142672544197835230/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/just-few-basic-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/142672544197835230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/142672544197835230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/just-few-basic-things.html' title='just a few basic things'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5616672191859438182.post-9024711533711737183</id><published>2009-09-14T11:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T11:13:38.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>here we go...</title><content type='html'>First post, nothing worth reading, yet... (More) content will come. Eventually.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5616672191859438182-9024711533711737183?l=sozigerd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/feeds/9024711533711737183/comments/default' title='Kommentare zum Post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/here-we-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Kommentare'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/9024711533711737183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5616672191859438182/posts/default/9024711533711737183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sozigerd.blogspot.com/2009/09/here-we-go.html' title='here we go...'/><author><name>DerGerd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13239155081240847400</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t-eRUf_8YVk/Sq6NveErdVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-ZbY8sGf5rQ/S220/autonom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
