Many beers, we have yes

It's interesting how easy someone can start to feel like they're a set-extra on Lost in Translation, but without the pretty blonde. I haven't mentioned it before, but I think I've discovered an understated gergariousness in myself, albeit at an inopportune time. Either that, or when you're placed in a country where few speak enough English to have more than just a utilitarian conversation, it's nice to be able to prattle on in English idioms and banter.

Working in Germany for the last two weeks has bought me to the conclusion that human conversation is an important tool for maintaining one's sanity. I feel like every time I ask a question I just get looked at with that 5 second goldfish memory look. It behoves English speakers moving to most European countries to use plenty of “Whats”, “Whens” and “Wheres” when you decide to amputate information from your conversational compatriot. Often extracting this information is as tough as a gangenous leg amputation – hacking through different sides and using several tools to try and detach the offending appendage.

This week is Frankfurt book fair, and I'm told there is an insurgence of over 300,000 book enthusiats at the event. I bumped in to a couple of people here at the fair who were going to check it out. One girl was a book binder. It took a bit of convincing before I thought you could possibly make a living from something that would be equivalent of the Save As -> PDF in the IT world. However it wasn't just the binding itself. It was the cover art, the book outlay and paper. Thus making it more of an artform... or something. I have put a pox on the book fair and all the tourists it brings. This is due to the fact that pretty much no hotels that were available that week that costed less than what Caesar would taxes from the peasants of Rome. At least they would have got some cash-back vouchers in the form of entertainment by watching hungry Lions ravage gladiators in the Colloseum. I came, I saw, I lucked out. Another was a dude from Berlin named Octavia who is a cartographer come database admin. He had come to Frankfurt in search of gainful employment, before he would embark on a holiday to Thailand for the second time. He was one of the tens of people who always point out how nice New Zealand is based on Lord of the Rings so he might try and get work in Australia or New Zealand.

I was supposed to go to France and catch up with Jaharmes this weekend, but had to get some work (actual work) and sort out my accomadation for the next few months in Frankfurt. I was too late to regress my foolishness in hoping there would be businesses open after 2pm on a Saturday who would be sympathetic to my cause of wanting an apartment for rent. If you want to buy some thongs, jandals, or pretzels on a Saturday you can go ahead. If you need to purchase something vaguely related to the greater commerce, you're out of luck. Well, luckily it's not one of the biggest money-related capitalistic cities in Germa... oh wait. It's like a preparation for the following day, which I'll launch my own private Jihad on in the next few sentences. Pretty much the only thing you can buy on a Sunday is a pretzel (chocolate-coated ones, plain rock salted-ones, or something with swine sprinkles) from the local pretz-cart. This is not the pulling of any legs (or carrying one on one's bicep as the Germans aparently say); the city is not open on Sundays. So while here in Frankfurt right out of my front door is the largest prostitution and littering of sex-shops in the world outside of Amsterdam, they drew the line of engaging in any funny business of Sunday trade. Perhaps Timaru could teach them a thing or two. At the end of the weekend, I still haven't been able to find any apartments (you've really got such a small window of time to shop around). I have been given a web site with aparements I can browse that are for rent, so I think I'll try the electronic tack now.

In other news, I've also signed up with Inlingua doing French classes on a Thursday night for an hour and a half, and German classes twice a week. It's a bit different in the French classes over here finding the students drop back in to German for a bit if they don't understand things to get some elaboration. Although, I guess you had to be there.

Today I was able to get my first game of squash in after five or six weeks of abstinence (not by choice mind you). There are three court centres in Frankfurt and at the end of the couple of hours I spend there, I've managed to rekindle lost friendships with my old mates Sore Quad and Strained Back. Hopefully by next week I would have walked it off well enough to get past the cobweb brushing stage and back to where I was before I left. It was fantasic to get back in to the swing of things - werd up to the Hane and Dairmuid massif.