Random Things

Our office cafeteria lady distributed new cards promoting her catering business. The cards were written in German and presumably proofread by Germans, but like any good promotional material, there is English on the card emphasizing certain points. Unfortunately, the third bullet point was labeled “slowfat,” thus evoking bizarre mental imagery. Presumably she meant “low fat,” as the rest of the line promoted a salad-bar option.

Friday morning in Weimar’s Marktplatz, I was confronted with something completely oversized: an enormous American stretch Chevy Suburban. It was waiting out front of the Rathaus for a newly married couple to get in. It looked extremely out of place, considering that most cars in Germany tend to the small side.

Amusingly, I voted for my Weimarian “Ausländer” representative this week. I could either vote three times either for three different people, three times for one person, or twice for one person and once for another. Unfortunately I voted the way most Americans vote: randomly. The ballot came with a list of names, citizenship, and no other information whatsoever. Citizens from Russia, Italy, and Uzbekistan, to name a few, were on the list, as well as two “stateless” people, who were further denoted Palestinian. I picked three, my principle criteria being that they had to be non-EU citizens. Nothing like an informed and educated voter, eh?

With Germany’s World Cup infection, it’s hard to avoid the disease. Last night I realized that the Rez Café, one of my favorite haunts, is proud to be a World Cup/sports free zone, something I wish were true elsewhere. This week I had two people inform me that the United States had a fußball team—I considered notifying the US House Unamerican Activities Committee to demand an investigation. One day, on my way home, somebody stopped me and asked if I was going to watch the US team play that evening—so I guess the US team really exists. (And, yes, I do know that they were knocked out after the first round, I’m not as ignorant as I pretend to be—although I will confess that I didn’t know they had lost their last game until late the next morning.)