Fairy tales, black ties, and Elvis

I’m actually writing in the Semester in Regensburg office today instead of my usual spot at the foot of the bed or the kitchen table. Last night’s lame post has been gnawing at the back of my mind. Ya’ll deserve at least a little better than that, after all. And I was a little tired, but mostly lazy.
So now I’ve just finished German 201 for the day. We have our first of 4 tests (not counting the final) this Friday. Since our tests are 1/3 of our grade, that makes this something like 6 or 7 percent of it. The difference in an A and a B, most likely. So I’m a little worried about it.
On the bright side, we’re learning the vocabulary for Märchen (fairy tales). I had always wondered where Rumpelstilzchen had gotten his name, now I know. The German Kobold (mischievous gnome/hobgoblin is about the best translation) spells his name a little differently, but I suspect there’s a meaning that we never brought over in the translation (like Schneewittchen – snow white—who actually got her name translated when Grimms came to English). I’m eager to get a copy of Grimms’ Fairy Tales in German, preferably the old German it was originally written in. Tiff’s not quite as enthusiastic about this little quest of mine, but I might just get one off the German Amazon.de and get it before I have to pay overseas shipping. I might be able to find one in the states, but I imagine it’d be cheaper here. We’ll see.
I’m off track, I was trying to tell you about yesterday.
Stammtisch was nice. I talked my German teacher’s ear off in my poor German/Denglish (Deutsch+English=Denglish), stumbling my way through most of the average bits of conversation. I managed to once again bumble out “ich habe keine Anzug” (“I have no suit”) instead of “Ich habe keine Anjung” (“I have no idea”). I’m going to break myself of that weird slip if it kills me, but in the meantime everyone can have a good laugh at my confusion. They got more of a laugh when I tried to say “Schwartz kravatte” (black tie) and instead said “Schwartz Kartoffeln” (black potato).
Live and learn, right?
Tiff and I are still hunting for a card reader that reads XD memory. Of the three Photoshops in Altstadt, only one carries them. The guy I talked to last week about one (before we had any money to try and purchase it) said they had one, but another man told us yesterday that they didn’t have any. His English wasn’t very good, and since I can’t say “XD Card Reader” in German I’m not sure he connected all the English we gave him. We’re going to try and go back today to talk to the fluent salesman. I may try and look up a few German phrases on it if that fails.
We’re still trying to make plans for this weekend. Each time Tiff gets to looking for prices to stay in Nurnburg she ends up looking somewhere else. I suspect it’s a subtle hint about her opinion on the trip, but since the group is now planning on just a day trip, all Tiff and I have to do is agree on something to see. Given our tastes, that might not be as easy as I had thought.
I wonder how Aschenputtel got translated into Cinderella. Or whether that’s a double-translation and Aschenputtel is a translation of our word. I guess it sort of makes since: Ashcen is similar to Cinders, which would imply her role under the oppressive step mother. I wonder what puttel translates as… well, putzen’s “to clean,” so it could have once been something along the ways of Ash-cleaner. Heh. That’s mildly amusing, even if it has no factual basis. Just a little idle pondering.
Yesterday, right.
What else did we do yesterday? Kaffeestunden. That’s our afternoon meeting over Coffee, which is the fuel that keeps more than half our group going each day. Kaffeestunden had a few minor announcements, none of which will seem of much significance to you. I’m going on a scavenger hunt Sunday, assuming I’m not back in Nurnburg. If I do go on the hunt (which is most likely, since I’ll be returning to Nurnburg in late November/early December for the Christmas festivities), I’ll take pictures of each goal. I don’t think it was written to be a photo-scavenger hunt (which I think has always sounded like fun, and is more plausible now that digital cameras are cheap), but I’m turning it into one.
I’ve got 250 or so pictures on my camera that I’ll upload as soon as I figure out how to. The image server’s being a little stubborn at the moment. I think I over-stuffed it already, and so it’s load time has slowed down to the point that ie times out every time it tries to connect. That’s just a theory, though. Once again, no factual basis. I hope to have that problem solved by this weekend, though, because I’ve got to label or rename all these pictures. With the Dom St. Peter tour tomorrow I’m going to have plenty to label.
I also need to pick out a photo for the picture contest. One’s due on the 12th, which is…Sunday! I hadn’t realized how soon that was. Ick. I’ll have to find some quick. I’m not sure about all the details, but I know I can win $100, $50, or $25 much-needed dollars. Every bit helps.
By the way, there’s a paypal link coming, too. Those of you feeling extra generous, feel free to donate to this educational adventure. It is, of course, totally optional, but you’ll get the added benefit of me gushing gratitude in your direction as often as possible.
Just a cheap plug there. :D
Well, it’s almost lunch time, but I think I have time for one more little story. Let me tell you about Elvis. That’s right, Elvis.
Elvis rides the bus with us at least once a week. Usually two or three times. He’s a stout man, maybe 2 inches taller than me, always in a yellow jacket. He’s not exactly the cleanest fellow, and his eyes are a little sunken in from either too much stress or too many adventures. His hair is greased back in a somewhat American-Elvis like way. I’m not sure if it’s an intentional association or not.
Elvis introduced himself to us a couple of days after we were in town. “Amerikanish, yes?” he asked, then promptly launched into the decent, German-accented English that everyone here learns in Middle and High School. “Money for a phone call? Euro-fifty? Kannst du spare change for a phone call?”
We gently refused, wondering how he paid the Euro-sixty bus fee or afforded the 15 Euro bus pass.
Since that day, we’ve spotted Elvis around most of town, and often on our bus. He watches us now, but I don’t think he’s asked us for money again. It seems like he gets off on our stops, though, and we think his daily circuit has overlapped with ours.
I hesitate to call Elvis a bum. I don’t think he’s homeless, and bum’s just one of those terms with too many connotations. I’m not sure what to classify him as, but he’s definitely unique. There is a lack of homeless people in this city, and even the meaner-looking street-dwellers aren’t as rough as ours back home. His brooding silence is disconcerting, but I think it’s a sign of the rule-abiding formality ingrained in this place. We didn’t offer him any money, so he’s going to respect that and not force the issue. It’s like he’s accepted his role, and will go on riding the bus each day, possibly asking other Americans for money.
Whatever his lot, Elvis is a strange fellow to ride the bus with each morning.