Expect the Unexpected

Adventure will find you if you just stand in its way.  I continue to find myself in unexpected, yet not unsurprising, situations.  The last couple weeks have taken me again to neighboring towns in order to participate in photo shoots as well as performing in some intimate settings here in Erfurt.  The highlight, however, has to be hearing myself on the local radio station, MDR Thüringen.

The Printing Museum

There were three of us huddled in an apartment in Weimar, awaiting the description of what and where we would be soon be “performing”.  In the last round of photo shoots, I had found myself in a very colorful costume waltzing in an open public square.  This round would include watching a lecture that was celebrating the opening of a new printing museum.  I was to wear the suit this time.

Among the olde-tyme printing presses and retired type cases, I had understood that the man who was the main proponent for a capital eszett was also in attendance.  For those non-German speakers, the eszett (ß) represents a double-s, but has a harsher pronunciation.  Prior to June 2017, there was no accepted form for capitalizing it.  The argument is that it never starts a word; but the question remains, how does one shout at someone online in German without the ability for all caps?

In June 2017, the capital eszett (ẞ) became officially acknowledged and available for frustrated blog entries and offensive social media posts.  However, I do not know if any of this was talked about during the lecture; I was being shuffled about the room and around the building for photos.

The Revue

Last Thursday, the theatre group at the Theater im Palais put on their revue for the about 20 or so people in attendance.  This was the conclusion of about two months of two-hour, weekly rehearsals.  The week prior to the performance, it was discovered that our show was only 40 minutes long, and the director wished for at least 50 minutes.  So, we decided to stretch some of the improvised scenes.  Luckily, none of my scenes were improvised.

There was not a clear theme to the skits and performances, but I am told that this revue will continue to be massaged into a longer show to be performed again in the spring.  However, as I am picking up some more responsibilities at the dance school, I am parting ways with this theatre group.  I have pieced together most of the skits for your watching enjoyment.

As is to be expected for any theatre performance, we all participated in a cast party immediately following our successful stage production.  We headed to a nearby bar where we were allowed to bring in some snacks.  I was told that since I am working at a bakery, it would be nice if I could bake some goods for our evening.  I had assumed that each cast member would also bring a bit to share – a pot luck.  However, I found out upon arriving that this request was intended to “showcase” what I can do.  Had I known this, I would have made more and would have tried to impress.  That said, my chocolate croissants, hummus, and pita bread were devoured during our long evening of celebrating.  We even broke out the ukulele and pretty much exhausted my repertoire.  In fact, requests for “Copacabana” went unanswered as I did not know the song well enough to play it.  Homework.

The Wedding Singer

Having played twice at the bakers during the Saturday evening drinking-and-music festivities, I was approached by the elder baker’s cousin, who was always in attendance.  He and his wife would be celebrating their golden wedding anniversary and would appreciate it if I could play.  I was told that there would also be an accordionist, and we would most likely be switching back and forth throughout the evening.

So last Saturday, I hopped in the car with the elder baker and headed to the 50^th anniversary party.  As one would expect, the invitees were a bit on the “wiser”-end of the age spectrum.  The couple greeted me kindly, and I was able to find my assigned seat.

In preparation for the evening of trading off sets, I had prepped a set list, which consisted of groupings of five to six songs each.  I attempted to logically group them for similar eras or themes.  I was prepared.  The husband approached me early on and asked me to sing a couple songs while we waited for the food to be served.  The audience politely listened to my first song, but turned to side conversations for the remained of the set – yet, always applauding at the end of a song.

About two hours later, after eating and speeches and the DJ playing and dancing, I was approached again to play some songs.  This seemed like bad timing, especially after hearing a DJ with thumping music, to sing acoustically again.  However, it’s his party.  So, knowing this would be my last set, I simply sang the songs that I liked to play… in no particular order.  No one really listened; few clapped after a song was complete; and kids kept running up to my microphone, yelling into it, then running away.  I had a blast.

Finally, the husband approached me and said that I should wrap it up.  After that half-hour set, I thankfully returned to my seat.  This is when the accordionist started his one-and-only set.  He began with “Es gibt kein Bier auf Hawaii” (tr., there is no beer in Hawaii).  The entire room linked arms, swayed back and forth, and sang along.  His set lasted ten minutes, and everyone was enraptured.  I jokingly turned to the lady next to me and whined that “no one sang along with me.”  She replied that that was because what I sang was “nicht schön” (tr. not good/enjoyable).  Truth bomb.

The Interview

Yesterday afternoon, I was contacted by someone in the theatre group about being interviewed.  She also works as a reporter at the local radio station and thought that my emigration out of the US post Trump’s election would make for a good sound bite during the morning news.  Even though I informed her that I was not super political, I could talk to her a bit about my departure from the US as well as what I am doing in Erfurt and Thuringia.  We chatted for about an hour so that she had enough material for a two minute piece.  Here is that interview as it was broadcast on this morning’s news.

Here is my rough translation of the transcript.  (Sorry about the radio feedback near the end.  Updated 11/11 and fixed!! (Thanks, René!))

Male Reporter: It’s been one year since the US voted Trump into office.  Many said that they would emigrate, for example Stephen King, when it came to that.  However, most people remained.  There is one that did hold true to this and moved to Thuringia.  The reporter, Lisa W, visited him.

Lisa: In the refrigerator of Mark Komiskey, it is hard to find something that he has not made himself: cheese, quark, cakes, and even homemade beer.  In his basement, the next cheese is aging.

Mark: This is because there must be an exact temperature and humidity, in order to get the right … [mumbling trying to find the right words] … the right molds to grow.  You can really smell the blue mold.

Lisa: He has really produced all of this.  In Thuringia, he hopes to learn about the regional foods and has already learned from local butchers; these are things that are absent in the US.  But there is another reason…

Mark: He was in office on the 20^th.  I was gone on the 21^st.

Lisa: Donald Trump.  After the election, this 35-year-old decided that this is not where he wants to live.  For the last ten years, he had worked as an actuary in Chicago and San Francisco.  He grew up in Wisconsin.  And after the vote, he found new opinions there.

Mark: In the US, it is objectionable to talk about politics.  With family, one does not talk about it.  But with this vote, I have heard a lot from my parents and grandparents about what went wrong.  I found that very interesting.  It was very difficult for my family; and absolutely so for my grandma.  She was really upset about it.

Lisa: From that, there is always a question:

Mark: “What do we do now?”  I have heard this often.  One doesn’t know what we can now do.  I believe we have to wait.  Also with this investigation by Mueller; we are hoping that he finds something, and this will all be over.  He’s our only hope.

Lisa: Mark Komiskey wants to stay in Thuringia.  At this time, he is still looking for more internships at a brewery, and he also wants to learn how to make Thuringian Klöße.

Mark: Klöße are really delicious.  I have tried to make it myself, but ended up with a potato soup.

Male Reporter: I find them tasty, too.  Perhaps he can find a Thuringian who can show him the secrets to making Klöße.

Keep in mind that this piece was a report to acknowledge the year anniversary since the vote; the election results were truly a minor reason in my decision to move to Europe.  In fact, I had been working on this move since the end of 2015.  The results just lit a fire to make it happen.

The Baking Homework

The next two days will wrap up my bakery internship.  As I had mentioned in the Second Baker Internship post, I am hoping to restart this internship in January.  I was able to plant that seed and was already given a preliminary yes.  I think what makes this internship so different from the others is the homework that I am given.

In addition to have been given the ingredients to make my own bread, each week I am asked what I made on my “days off”; this gives me an opportunity to make mistakes on my own and ask clarifying questions.  I have now make Mischbrot four times on my own; my latest attempt was quite near to perfect, but I now know the feel of all the steps where I could successfully make it back in the US.

I have also conquered Mohnkuchen; I have made this cake at least six times and have learned more about the process in each trial.  This week’s assignment was Obstkuchen, which involved a cake-like bottom, a layer of quark, a layer of fruit and a topping of gelatin.  I successfully made the bottom layer last evening, and spread on top of it my homemade quark.  I layered some thawed, frozen blueberries and prepared the gelatin.

The way this should work is that the quark should provide a protective layer between the spongy cake and the yet-liquid gelatin.  However, my quark failed at its one job.  Over night, the gelatin drained from covering the blueberries and into the cake.  Now my blueberries were exposed and shriveled up to resemble unappetizing raisins.  Additionally, there was no way to take a slice as the cake was waterlogged.  This was beyond frustrating as each of the individual layers was successful; it was the final cake the failed.

It is a good thing that I will be seeing the baker in a couple hours; I need some more direction on this one.  I ended up fixing this latest attempt by combining the cake with some orange peels and some used loose leaf tea, wrapping it loosely in a plastic sack, and pitching it in the compost bin.