Fair warning: I’m traveling in Europe for a couple of weeks and am posting some thoughts at the end of the day. Disjointed and random will be my MO—it’s not a high enough priority to form into stories fit for public consumption, I apologize. I hope to post once a day. You may want to unsubscribe.
Surprised by how much not being able to understand what is being said around me is disorienting. It keeps firing some competitive impulse to try and learn the language, completely, tonight. (Makes me much more concerned for France since I can conjure at least some German comprehension, whereas I don’t grasp any French.)
The difference between common, colloquial German and what is in the phrase books can be miles apart. Sorry, kilometers.
Lots of döner joints to try. Yummy.
Forget the Portland/Austin comparison, I’d take Portland/Berlin. So many people in coffeeshops on the sidewalk, enjoying 3pm on a Wednesday. Every block has new hole-in-the-wall or three to explore. (I need to work up a spot of courage on that one.)
Repeat after me:
Es tut mir leid. (I’m sorry.)
Ich spreche wenig Deutsch. (I speak little German.)
Sprechen Sie English?
5th floor walk-up flats are good times. My elevator has made me soft.
Graffiti is everywhere, lots of it visually arresting. (Shown is the firehouse.)