“Uhh…You make sport?”

I walked into the house this afternoon around 3:30, red in the face, cold, and breathing like a chain smoking asthmatic. My host dad happened to be walking from the living room to the kitchen, and the following conversation ensued:

Note: Please read all lines marked ‘Uwe’ in a thick German accent.

Uwe: Hallo!
Me: *pant* Hey. *pant*
Uwe: *confused look* Uhh… You make sport?
Me: Yes, I was jogging.
Uwe: OH! GOOOOD! How much?
Me: *haphazard mental conversion to metric system* 7 kilometers.
Uwe: Very gooood! You look very…uhh…bad. NO! Tired. You look very tired.

I laughed and made my way upstairs to shower and recover from my weak minded physical pursuits. I have been itching for several weeks to do SOMETHING athletic. Last semester was certainly the most healthy of my college experience. I made myself run around 20 miles a week, a far cry from years past, but improvement for sure. I was surprised by the exponential returns of three dedicated hours a week of serious conditioning. It was the first semester I made it all the way through without even a cold. I slept better, worked better, found myself wanting to eat better, and just FELT GOOD. The last six weeks of sitting around and eating bread and bratwurst has done nothing for me. Sure, I walk a lot, but that only goes so far. I made the mistake of leaving my good running shoes at home, and have been unable to liberate myself from fatty foods bondage. I investigated having them shipped to me, but at $90 US, I just couldn’t justify it. So after two weeks of debating, I decided last night that I would give in and buy some shoes to last me the next two and a half months. This morning I woke up and went to Kaufhof with the burden of knowing I was about to grossly overpay for a pair of ill-fitting, uncomfortable, imported running shoes. For years I have been buying the best shoes on the market from Run-On, the best shoe store in the world. The first time you go, they develop a profile for you, so on subsequent visits they can pull up your profile, see what you have run in in the past, and choose the best shoe for you. For an extremely high-arched under-pronator like me, this is of utmost importance to prevent foot pain and shin splints (the #2 most painful experience, coming right after “Burning alive” on the ‘Worst pains ever’ list.) I found the shoes I run in at home for a mere €159, and decided to go a bit cheaper, and get these:

 

All that having been said, I have decided to start triathlon training. I have toyed with the idea for a few years, and am now officially dedicated. BEFORE THE END OF 2008, I WILL COMPLETE A SPRINT DISTANCE TRIATHLON. Sprint distance includes a .5 mile swim, 12.4 mile ride, and 3.125 mile run. This is my realistic goal, however if I can get to this point by the end of the summer, I will move on to a ‘half-tri’ which is a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile ride, and 13.1 mile run. THIS IS INSANE.

I know for a fact that, at this moment, I could ride 12.4 miles (20k), and run 3.125 miles (5k). I also know for a fact that I am a terrible swimmer. Herein lies the challenge. Don’t let me cop-out.

Now that I have committed myself to insanity, here’s the point of this post:

People here aren’t fat. They do not eat overly healthy, but their portions are moderate, AND THEY GO OUTSIDE AND DO STUFF. When I was running in the park on a sunny (yet freezing cold) Saturday afternoon, I had to employ my ninja skills to successfully dodge the hundreds of people walking dogs, jogging, ect. This was frustrating at first, being that I am used to having the whole sidewalk to myself, but after a moment of enlightenment I realized… these people care about themselves too. How refreshing.

So friends, lay down your saturated fats, and your high fructose corn syrup. Get off of your second hand floral print sofa, and enjoy some fresh air.

This post has nothing to do with Germany, I apologize. I will update about the Netherlands soon.

Bratwurst, Lederhosen, Accordians, and Sick Air. (updated)

This past weekend Gavin, Sierra, Rachel and I took an 11 hour train ride East toward the Alps and the most amazing (and only) former Olympic competition site/Bavarian ski bum town I have ever seen: Garmisch-Partenkirchen. We spent two full days snowboarding (Sierra skied, but we don’t hold that against her), one of which was spent on a glacier at the highest point in Germany, the Zugspitze, which is also the Austrian border, an invisible line I crossed on my snowboard. Sweet. I am pretty sure I pulled something in my shoulder being that I can’t lift my left arm above chest height without crying like a baby, but that, and more stories to come later. For now, I am exhausted and have to be at the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) at 8:45 am to go the The Netherlands for four days. Haha, sometimes life is just hard. To pacify you, enjoy pictures:

The Crew.

A common thread of the weekend.

‘…are we seriously about to do this?’

The glacier we boarded. Yes, those tiny things are lifts, and the big thing is the gondola down.

Looking into Austria from the Zugspizte.

‘It’s go time.’

The three boarders after a long day 2.

I said I would add stories, and I am no liar, so here we go:

Commence Story #1: Dinner

At the end of our first day, we decided to have a hardcore Bavarian dinner. We went to some crazy German restaurant where I ordered a Currywurst and Pommes. For desert I ordered the ‘Hot Love’ which was a phantasm of ice cream with raspberry goodness on top. The food was great, but the entertainment was better. The whole time there was a man and woman playing traditional music on an accordion and guitar, respectively. They were wearing lederhosen, and drinking beer from huge steins. Good times. After we got our food, a well-fed looking, older woman (who I assume was the owner) came by our table and said something in German to the effect of ‘how is it?’ We just smiled and said ‘güt.’ She laughed at us, and went on with her rounds laughing and rubbing elbows with the locals. Germans rock.

Commence Story #2: Pain

On day two, we chose to board the glacier on top of the mountain (see pictures). This was great fun, but I was already pretty beat up from falling… A LOT. About halfway through the day I was minding my own business, and was boarding across a run on my ‘toe-side’ meaning i was facing the mountain. Some schmuck on Snow blades ran over the end of my board, made me do a back flip, and end up on my back 20-ish feet downhill. Thanks for nothing. I landed hard on my left shoulder, which in turn has hurt for 10 days now. It’s almost healed up, and only bothers me if I sleep on it. Note to self *don’t sleep on bum shoulder*. Some people are jerks, but a little pain is part of the deal when snowboarding. It is just your body telling you that you are stupid for having so much fun in single digit temperatures.

All in all, Alpine boarding = success. That is all.

French Military Surrenders to Six American College Students.

Due to the German Karnival season, I had five schoolless days from this past Thursday through Monday. We took advantage of this opportunity, as did many Germans before us, and invaded France. In a matter of 96 hours, I saw years worth of Architecture History I, II, and III course material. Due to the fact that I love architecture history, and love to hear myself talk, I proceeded to play tour guide throughout Paris. It has been suggested that I record my historical babble and host a weekly podcast. This would employ technology, which I love, and would allow you to hear my fountain of wisdom as often as your heart desired. Benefits all around. Until this happens (never), I shall post a few pictures with a quick caption/summery of what it is, and why I like it (i.e. why you should like it too).

Si vous plait:

Sainte Chapelle:

 

 

A small royal chapel of the Rayonnant style of Gothic architecture. The aim of Gothic architects was to allow light to penetrate into the space. Rayonnant developed about 140 years into the Gothic period, and exemplified the idea of “holy light.” Unlike the three storied elevation of High Gothic, Rayonnant chapels have windows for the entirety of the vertical plane separated only by necessary buttressing. (See below)

The Eiffel Tower:

Designed as a temporary structure for the worlds fair in 1889 by engineer, Gustave Eiffel, and was the world’s tallest structure for 40 years. It is constructed of wrought iron, and was the first massive use of rivets in this sort of application. There are actually three colors of paint used – darkest on bottom, lightest on top – so an observer on the ground views it as being uniform.

Le Louvre:

The museum is an old palace, but we don’t care about that. The ultra modern, glass and steel pyramid that serves as the entrance to the Louvre was designed by I.M. Pei, a master of modernism based in New York, who designed some of Dallas’s finest buildings, including One Dallas Center, Dallas City Hall, and the Meyerson Symphony Center.

Notre Dame Cathedral:

The introduction of Gothic architecture, which is exemplified by the flying buttresses. Restored and preserved by Viollet-le-Duc, and one of the most famous churches of all time. The enormous rose window and tower facade at the base of the cruciform plan are standard for the Gothic style. And its just freakin’ huge.

 

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The Centre Pompidou:

Built in 1977 by Renzo Piano and Richard Rodgers, it houses a public library, a modern art museum, an exhibition hall, a fantastic bookstore, and a huge public lobby with free wi-fi. All of the structural and service areas are located on the outside “skin” of the building allowing the interior to be a completely open, monumental space. All of the systems have were painted a specific color (HVAC – blue, electrical – yellow, plumbing – green, movement – red) and can been seen both inside and out. (see image) It is a building as a machine. Fantastic.

Abbey Church of St. Denis:

 

Part of a former monastery, and simply a gorgeous piece of Gothic architecture. The church standing now is the last of several that have been built here from the 7th – 13th century. The one here today was built in the 1250’s and is considered the first church to move into the Rayonnant style (previously mentioned). Most of the kings of France are buried here.

Versailles and its amazing gardens:

Versailles started out as a hunting lodge and ‘retreat from Paris’ and became a permanent residence of the French Royal Family. The palace standing today is attributed to Jules Mansart, who was the Royal architect of Louis XIV. It includes ridiculous living areas, a throne room, and the ‘Hall of Mirrors,’ which runs about 60% of the length of this facade. The gardens (see below) are probably more impressive than the palace. See a plan of it here. To walk all the way around it would take about two hours. Woah.

Thus ends your French architecture history lesson. Hope you enjoyed it. The test is on Monday, you will need your student ID, #2 pencil, and the large gray scantron.

Tomorrow night, Gavin, Sierra, Rachel and I are taking an 11 hour overnight train ride into the Alps to go snowboarding for 2 days. We get back at 6 AM Monday morning, have class all day, and then Tuesday we leave for four days in The Netherlands. I will get back to this thing later to tell you about today’s trip to Bonn, and everything else I have done by then.

Adieu.

Distraction.

I do not have time to write about my adventures in Paris at this time.

Here is a video made by Barrett, Gavin, and I to tide you over:

Under the Weather and Talking Up a Storm.

The last two days have been fantastically sunny. There have been no overcast skies, no constant drizzle, no intense wind. Unlike days past, I wake up with the sun illuminating my room. But at 51° N latitude, where the sun never gets above 9 AM height, sunny days mean only one thing… IT WILL BE FREEZING COLD. After the departure of our cozy cloud blanket, temps plummeted, and left us with a nice frost Friday morning. For me, this leaves one option… take pictures. I left for school early, camera in hand, results as follows:

These are the kinds of things I get to see as I walk to school. At home, I drive everywhere. Look at what I would have missed out on.

Friday night and all day today I wore my infamous “toe-shoes”:

 

(No, this is not an actual picture of me. No, my legs are not that smooth.)

I have decided that these may be the best invention in shoe history since the Jesus sandal. For those of you that do not know, I have a bit of a problem when it comes to shoes. In much the same way junkies need crack, I need shoes. “But you are a guy! Certainly this can’t be true!” I hear you say. In response I can only refer you to Exodus 20:17. That having been settled, lets proceed. These shoes tend to attract a lot of strange looks, though I cannot imagine why, and despite what you think, I do not enjoy these looks. Nay! I do not enjoy them nearly as much as I enjoy catching those giving them. All it takes is a direct look in the eye, and the tiniest smile, and they know they’re busted. The best part is that in this country I don’t even speak the same language as those I bust, but they know it all the same. How joyous.

Speaking of language: I have decided that the strangest part of returning home will be understanding what is being said by those around me. I have grown accustomed to not knowing what the person next to me is talking about, or how to read street signs, or advertisements. In my room I have satellite television. 80+ channels of gibberish. Last night I watched a movie in English, and it already seemed foreign to me. Sure, those who I came with speak English, but to only be able to converse with a small group of people-THE SAME PEOPLE-everyday is strange. I tried to strike up a conversation with a girl on the bus yesterday, and she just laughed at me (which, oddly enough, didn’t seem abnormal… ). I am assuming she had no idea what I was saying, but who knows. I fear this lack of auditory interaction may be killing off the few social skills I previously possessed, though I have no way of knowing for sure. On the contrary, this conundrum has been enlightening me to the incredible possibilities of nonverbal communication. I have always had a respect for body language, particularly with good friends. There have been people in my life who, with only a look, knew exactly what I was trying to communicate. During the days of the rock ‘n roll phantasmagoria that was Not Quite 7, we communicated through eye contact, musical inflection, and body movements, making previously undiscussed musical decisions on the fly. All of this came naturally due to the impossibility of verbal communication brought on by Stix’s incessant crash cymbal use. We seem to always choose to converse verbally if the opportunity is there. Only when speaking is not an option (whether due to high decibel levels, or being in a foreign nation) do we take advantage of our silent speaking skills. Whether it be a smile on a subway, or pointing to the panini I want for lunch, sometimes we say things most effectively by saying nothing at all.