A Conflicting Rant

The Ger-Man is away with work for a few days doing some professional development training.

Conflict resolution is the topic, I believe.

He said before he left that he plans to (primarily) use any newly obtained skills on the Caspi-Man and me. (I think we provide more conflict for him than his most difficult of clients. Well, it must be said, we probably just try harder.)

If I’m honest, I am a bit worried that he may come home and start with “reflective questioning” strategies, or maybe even use “reframing statements”- or - saying the good ol' "I" rather than"You" phrases such as: “I feel when you ..........” instead of the: “Stop being such a ............!” that have been used so effectively to date during our -ah – ‘matrimonial discussions’. Lord forbid –he may even be doing role plays.

Many years of working in Human Services has left me highly cynical about such practices (especially when used in one’s personal life).*

And one of the reasons (albeit not the main one) I fell in love with the Ger-Man in the first place was his ignorance of such manipulative strategies. He usually just blurts out exactly what he thinks. Upfront and without adornment. Which, it must be admitted, has more than once led to some conflict.

(Like the time early in our courting days when I stupidly -and rather vainly- asked him how come he’d never told me I was beautiful. Well, in the past others had... “Because you’re not.” was his answer – then sensing from my reaction that this wasn’t the most diplomatic of statements – he followed up with “Oh, I guess you’re attractive enough–but you have to admit - you're no Claudia Shiffer”…)

But still, there is an honesty that can be, and is often, lost when one becomes skilled in resolution-focused/ conflict minimizing communication techniques. While this may be beneficial in the workplace it does overlook the simple fact that there is a certain healthy, cathartic element in having an illogical rant-fest with your nearest and dearest - without any thought for resolution. (Just ask the Caspi-Man.)

So, being the caring people we are, and in support of The Ger-Man's professional development, the Caspi-Man and I consider it our family duty to see how far we can test the Ger-Man’s new skills when he returns home… :)


*Disclaimer for my dear colleagues and friends working in the Human Service/Psychological/Mental Health areas: Yes, Yes, I do fully understand the importance of sensitive communication strategies – and refer here only to when such strategies are being used in an overtly- somewhat manipulative- manner. I have the same deep seated cynicism when it comes to overt “political correctness” when used as an end in itself rather than a means of clear yet respectful communication. In both cases the baby far too often gets thrown out with the bathwater with the focus being on the “how” rather than the “what ”of what’s being said...

World Clock

I have spent way too much time this morning being mesmerized (actually - AGOG might be a more apt term) by this.

The so called "World Clock".

The link was forwarded by the Godfather (aka Uncle G in Sydney) & it has left me feeling more than a tad overwhelmed.

I'm aware of the doomsday clock- but I'm sure it doesn't move quite as quickly as this one. Am taking (small) comfort from the fact that bicycles seem to be produced more abundantly than cars...

Eurotrashing is not quite what it used to be...

Granted, I have a small child these days which somewhat intrudes on my ability to pack-up and head off on hedonistic adventures at a moment's notice. And there is the other small matter of the said small child's ever developing schedule: agendas and obligations that now need to be factored in. Between Kindergarten, playdates, gym classes, reading groups, occasional birthday parties etc. etc. it can be hard to find a space for spontaneous "city-breaks" . Actually, come to think of it - the Caspi-Man could really do with a personal assistant. Oh- hang on a sec - he has one...

Last weekend, encouraged by a visiting friend from OZ, I took unpaid leave from my PA position (citing phrases to the Ger-Man like "quality boy time" , "unlimited watching of Fussball on TV", "processed meat product meals" & the absolute cincher: "happy wife") and the friend and I were free to pack-up and head to the (somewhat warmer) Austrian climes of Vienna to meet up with a mutual English friend for a weekend of pure indulgence.

It was our first time in Vienna so much singing of favourite tunes from The Sound of Music was obligatory. As was Sacher-torte. (Except that we kept getting distracted by the enormous range of gorgeous other tortes). And Viennese coffee with extra cream (we're hard-core - so none of the wussy Melange [coffee with steamed milk] for us). Then between, there were the obligatory stops for carbohydrate and protein rich meals that needed to be washed down with lots of locally fermented grape juice.

I think it is fair to say we waddled around Vienna.

We managed to secure last minute tickets to see Carmen at the Volksopera. The seats didn't even have columns in front of them. (But we all agreed that if one had a vision-impaired friend these seats would be great value at 7 Euro a pop). Besides the obvious, Carmen had the added advantage of banishing our Sound of Music created ear-worms, and replacing them with Bolero.

And then there was the Sunday morning, front row tickets for the Wien Spanische Hofreitschule (Spanish Riding School). This had the English friend and myself sobbing emotionally into tissues while the Oz friend scratched her head in befuddlement, stating- "but the horses haven't even come in yet!"

Ahhhh yes. Eurotrashing. Not what it used to be. It's not how I remembered it. It's much, much better.

brilliant things about Germany no.218

Or maybe not - depending on one's personal taste....

but the fact that this Sauerkraut Juice exists is definitely an interesting thing about Germany. (And it's organic too.)

home from "the shire"

The Darss region of the Ostsee, from whence we have just returned, shall be from now on referred to as "the place where Hobbits live".


Seriously - can't you imagine that these are just the sort of dwellings that those furry footed creatures would inhabit?


While we didn't actually site any Hobbits (they must all still be in NZ and only migrate to Darss to claim their homes for the summer months) we did lay eyes on many, many numbers of a far more disturbing type of creature.

Travelling in pairs they were EVERYWHERE. Couples of a distinct age - sporting obligatory- matching windcheaters. Not just the occasional sighting - not even just a few here and there- they were everywhere! Three on the boat trip we did (pale blue, black with red shoulder feature, and a purple goretex), another four passed on the forrest hike to the lighthouse (dark green, more pale blue, very swish orange & red combo, and black with a large coloured lotto motif/advertisement on the back), and many more strolling the streets of the picturesque villages we visited.

I really fail to understand this phenomena. I currently have no desire whatsoever to dress like the Ger-Man, and if, with the advancing years it ever seems like it could be a good idea, I'm relying on you, family & friends, to revoke my clothes shopping rights.

However, the pair-spotting was an enjoyable passtime and overall, a nice time was had; the Caspi-Man spent quality time with his Godfather, the Ger-Man got to read some books, and while it would've been nice to have had it 15-20 degrees warmer, at least the sun did shine...

Roadtrip with the Ger-Man

1. Route planner (from www.Map24.de) printed out with hand scribbled notes in margin?
Check
2. Country and regional Maps?
Check
3. Hire car with a GPS?
Check

Don't think we're gonna get lost ...

brilliant things about Germany no.217

The 60 cent ice-cream in waffle cone...

(and that it is not just a summer treat)

Vocal Uprising.

The Caspi-Man is CRACKN’…big time.

He is staging a one man revolution against the evil régime that is ongoingly violating his personal freedom and liberty.

He is actively (and loudly) vocalising his discontent at the perceived injustice. Walls may have been kicked and books may have been thrown. Certain soft toys may now be considered collateral damage.

He is meant to be having his afternoon nap.

He feels (very strongly) that he should, by rights, be watching KiKa (children’s channel – or as he refers to it: “Caspi-TV”), or at the very least a Fireman Sam DVD.

This is but the latest in a long line of ongoing injustices that have befallen the Caspi-Man at the hands of the evil régime.

Why, just today, he has had to endure:

- the wrong knife being used to butter his breakfast toast,
- not being allowed to wear his favourite t-shirt to Kindergarten (as it was in the wash),
- the physical indignity of having his teeth brushed (twice),
- being made to help to clean up the milk sploshed in protest at some other major infringement of his personal freedom.

I often ring my mother- in situations like this- for moral support and a sympathetic ear.

Her soft chuckling reverberates across the 16,000 kms, and I can sense that all the historic “you’ll understand one day when you have kids of your own” are beginning to come home to roost.

“I really, honestly have no idea where he gets it from…” she says. This followed by more soft chuckling…

weather frogging

Ugh...have you seen the German weather forecast for the next 5 days?

I'm not one who usually follows such things (preferring to be surprised), and usually I don't need to as my "Schwierig-mutter" usually phones under the pretence of advising us of all things meteorological. Reminders to wear scarves, carry umbrellas, ensure the Caspi-Man has shoes on and the like. (If the weather fails then up-coming transport strikes always provide a good excuse for a call. Lately she's been calling a lot.)

But as we are actually planning a short break next weekend - meeting the Caspi-Man's Patenonkel (Godfather) & partner at the Baltic Sea- I have been taking an active interest in the long-range forecasts. And after last week's glimmer of spring, I'd been anticipating some fine warm days to compliment our beach break (and make the holiday snaps look good).

I am dismayed (truly despondent) to learn, however, that instead of inching up to the high twenties, winter seems to be returning. Dusseldorf's current prediction for tomorrow is 4 degrees and schneeregen!

I'm beginning to fear this year is gonna be like 2006... I really hope it won't be - but it is not looking hopeful. Below is an email I sent out to all and sundry back then. Proof that this obsession with the weather is not new. (Am beginning to suspect I may have some British blood somewhere in my lineage.)
__________________________________________________

From: pyjamamel
Sent: Thursday, 1st June, 2006 09:37:12 am
To: Absolutely everybody in my address book
Subject: What Global Warming?


Dear family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and that person I met briefly in Dubai airport in 2004,

I am absolutely flabbergasted (yes, really). So much so that I just have to share it...

Here I was believing the world was getting warmer but here in Deutschland there is scant evidence. Tomorrow is officially the first true day of summer. Now I freely admit that just 3 weeks ago we had 10 days of glorious sunshine and temperatures of around 25 degrees - but since then it has been gloomy and frankly, quite chilly.

And on the weather tonight I saw that they're predicting SNOW tomorrow in Frankfurt (a mere 200kms or so south of us). Yes: SNOW. IN JUNE. (Will The Caspi-Man ever get to utilise his funky togs and hip baby sunglasses?)

Something is happening with the weather, to be sure, but it certainly doesn't seem to be warming.

Yours in a winter coat for the 10th month running,

Pajamamel

techno-babble

This week, amongst other things, I have been called an unmuzzled, onion-eyed hedge-pig.

This was soon followed by the accusation that I was a pribbling, beef-witted clanker blossom. (Ahhh, sweet, who doesn’t like to be called ‘blossom’?)

Of course one must retaliate – and I was quite pleased with my particularly hard hitting “though art a wenching, folly-fallen bum-baily”. (Wouldn’t you be?)

I’d love to be able to profess that this inspired retort was of my own creation but, alas, it was the product of something called the ‘Shakesparean Insult Generator’ on ‘facebook’.

Who thinks of these things?

Also over the past week I have been invited to participate in some “mobwars” (the offer? ‘‘Start out as a petty thief and work your way up to be boss of a criminal empire.’ Hmmm…tempting...), and I have been given (what I can only assume is an honorary) "Title of Nobility" at Lady Mellypropism’s court (ahh thanks darling, you really shouldn’t have, what sounds better? Countess Pyjamamel or Baroness?).

Uggh – STOP! I have enough addictions already. (And a ceiling to vacuum.)

I refuse (beyond my humble Scrabulous games) to let facebook take over my life (that’s what I have the Caspi-Man, and my new blogging habit for). And really, at heart, I'm a Luddite, and I fear my brain is already full (hence my complete inability to master German grammar).

Sorry guys, don’t mean to be rude (and the programs offer no way to do this politely) but you’re gonna have to create your respective empires without me (The Terry Day Army might be the exception - BUT only if I get to be an honorary Derro.)

On the home front

Yesterday morning spring seemed to have finally sprung.

Returning home from dropping the Caspi-Man at kindergarten - the sun was actually shining, the birds were singing, the temperature reached double digits (for the first time this year), and the bright summery clothes featured in the display-windows of Kaufhoff didn't appear (quite)so ludicrously cruel and teasing.

Yep, I was feeling quite chipper with the sun streaming pleasantly into the front room, until I noticed three things:

1) there are dirty splatter marks all over our windows. (What is it with these countries that have so much rain and no window awnings?) Our streetscape appears as an impressionist painting.

2) there are dust-bunnies the size of large goats under the couch. (The Caspi-Man must have been feeding them.)

3) there is a clearly visible tide-mark of grot along ALL our walls at about the 60cm level.

Hmmmm - methinks it is time to consider some spring-cleaning.

brilliant things about Germany no.216

Children are still mostly welcomed, talked to, and considered 'special'.

Any trip to the supermarket, bakery, post-office will inevitably result in an offer of: slice of 'wurst' *, a sweet bread-roll, small packet of gummi-bears.

Actually, when that last item is offered just before lunch - it is not quite so brilliant...

*like cheerios were @ the deli counter in Woolies when I was a child. This seems to - disappointingly - no longer happen in Oz.

Dinner

I know I'd sorta promised not to blog too much about the Ger-Man but yesterday came this email exchange (nb. the Ger-Man claims to be too busy with his work to read the full text of the craftily worded messages of endearment I used to send him - so now I tend to just communicate via the subject line):

From: pyjamamel
Sent: Tuesday, 1st April, 2008 16:45:17 pm
To: the Ger-Man
Subject: Fish or lamb for dinner?

_____________________________________

RE: Fish or lamb for dinner?
From: the Ger-Man
Sent: Tuesday, 1st April, 2008 17:02:34 pm
To: pyjamamel

Lamb unless fish means fishfingers

the things you can't explain

Digger (or earth mover), in German, is Bagger.

But it is pronounced "Bugger".

Anyone who has had anything do to with very young boys (and their inherent fascination with all things pertaining to construction sites) may be able to guess where this is heading.

Bagger was one of the Caspi-Man's first recognisable words. Perfected just before his 2nd birthday - on the eve of a trip home to Oz.

And lordy-lord was he ever proud of it. And lordy-lord did he like to use it. And by bloody lordy-lord were there ever lots of them in Australia.

Beginning with the extension work they were doing at BNE (Brisbane International Airport) when we landed- there was not an outing - (not even a trip to the shop) - where one was not sighted. And every digger needed to be pointed out. At full volume. And acknowledged. Preferably by strangers. (Such is the way with newly articulate nearly 2 year-old's.)

"DA'S A BUGGER!"

I quickly learnt that strangers were not buying the "Bugger is German for Digger" line, and believe me, I got to use that line a lot. At one point my highly amused sister was going to have it printed on a t-shirt...

When we returned to Deutschland I phoned a fellow aussie friend who is also based here in germany (her son, the Benj, is 3 months older than the Caspi-Man) to bemoan our experience.

She was full of unexpected empathy (and at the time 2 weeks out from a trip home to Perth):

" I know exactly what you mean. I've just been wondering how I'm going to explain this?"

she then obviously held out the Benj's favourite Digger - and through the line came a distant, very cute, and very well projected voice:

"ahhh... der ya are BUGGER! I WOVE YOU BUGGER!!!"

things I will never understand

Germans, in general, have a very cautious relationship with garlic.

They will certainly often go out of their way to avoid it - especially if an important work event is scheduled the following day.

Given their enormous and whole-hearted consumption of so many varieties of cabbage - I find this more than a tad paradoxical.