.. is the name of a book by two editors of the German newspaper Die Zeit, and is their attempt at putting the pronunctiation of Deutsche Bahn's english announcements onto paper. Unlike in the UK, in Germany, when pulling into a station (certainly on long-distance trains) you get a list of connections. Then they thank you for travelling with Deutsche Bahn and wish you a plesant onward journey. Unless your guard... sorry.. Train leader... has a good knowledge of English, all you get it "Senk jü for trawelling wiz Deutsche Bahn. Goodbye."
The book tells the stories in a very satirical, very German way how to survive travelling by train in Germany. Whilst some parts are, to say the least, a little over the top, there are also some bits that tell the whole, unbridled truth.
And let's not forget the terrible announcements inside of stations. Just because German trains run from a Gleis (the track), does not mean UK trains do. There is not a single station in the U.K. which would tell you your train is running from Track 5. We use Platform!
Then there is the obsession with translating Hauptbahnhof. The idea of a main station doesn't exist. We give it a name. You don't turn Kassel-Wilhemshöhe into Kassel-Williams-high, you don't turn Hamburg-Dammtor into Hamburg Dam-gate, so why do you turn every station with the word Hauptbahnhof into "Main Station" in English?!?!?!
And then we come to actually getting on the train, but that's a different matter entirely (although slightly easier than suggested by Herr Spörle and co).
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Cycling on the flat: an ode to Schleswig-Holstein
There is one thing that I like about Schleswig-Holstein: In the main, it is as flat as a pancake. At home, I live over 100m above sea level. Not much over 100m, but still 100m. In S-H i live less than 10 meters below sea level.
Having been given quite a few cycling/walking guides when I left the school last time, I decided that I may as well use them, so after paying Royal Mail an extortionate fee to have them sent here, it was time to "get on my bike" as the saying goes, and use them.
The first trip I did, now a good few weeks ago, was to reach the Ferry at Fischerhütte. Why here? Well, living virtually next to one of the many ferries across the NOK (a.k.a. the Kiel Canal) it seemed sensible to try and reach a ferry: there on one side, back on the other. 30 kilometres direct, but why take the direct route? Going the long way around would be so much more exciting. Which is exactly what I then did. I still haven't quite worked it out yet, but I reckon that my bike and I managed 80-90km in the one day. O.K, hardly Tour de France distances (nearer 200), but in dear old hilly Kent that would be totally impossible. For me, anyway.
Then, as if that wasn't enough (coupled with cycling to and from school, the supermarket, the station, in fact, just about anywhere) I decided a few weeks later to go the other way, towards Landwehr. Only 20km this time, and significantly more direct. This was, strangely enough, harder. Yes, I know the area I was cycling through was called the Huttener Berge (i.e. hills), and compared to Kent they were hardly mountains, but a strong crosswind that spent the entire day following me around made a much harder job. That coupled with the fact that there are more villages than I thought without bakeries, so it was 15:30 before I managed lunch, and even then it was from one of Germany's finest Bio-bakeries, so not a "belegte brötchen" (bread roll with filling) in site. Oh well, Germanic it is then - bread rolls plain, followed by cake, and a bottle of water which despite saying it was still on the label, was very definately fizzy when I opened it.
The winter is setting in, and as I now won't (can't?) be doing any more cycling along the NOK without the help of a train, I think we will be leaving the furthest distances until the spring or summer... perhaps.
Having been given quite a few cycling/walking guides when I left the school last time, I decided that I may as well use them, so after paying Royal Mail an extortionate fee to have them sent here, it was time to "get on my bike" as the saying goes, and use them.
The first trip I did, now a good few weeks ago, was to reach the Ferry at Fischerhütte. Why here? Well, living virtually next to one of the many ferries across the NOK (a.k.a. the Kiel Canal) it seemed sensible to try and reach a ferry: there on one side, back on the other. 30 kilometres direct, but why take the direct route? Going the long way around would be so much more exciting. Which is exactly what I then did. I still haven't quite worked it out yet, but I reckon that my bike and I managed 80-90km in the one day. O.K, hardly Tour de France distances (nearer 200), but in dear old hilly Kent that would be totally impossible. For me, anyway.
Then, as if that wasn't enough (coupled with cycling to and from school, the supermarket, the station, in fact, just about anywhere) I decided a few weeks later to go the other way, towards Landwehr. Only 20km this time, and significantly more direct. This was, strangely enough, harder. Yes, I know the area I was cycling through was called the Huttener Berge (i.e. hills), and compared to Kent they were hardly mountains, but a strong crosswind that spent the entire day following me around made a much harder job. That coupled with the fact that there are more villages than I thought without bakeries, so it was 15:30 before I managed lunch, and even then it was from one of Germany's finest Bio-bakeries, so not a "belegte brötchen" (bread roll with filling) in site. Oh well, Germanic it is then - bread rolls plain, followed by cake, and a bottle of water which despite saying it was still on the label, was very definately fizzy when I opened it.
The winter is setting in, and as I now won't (can't?) be doing any more cycling along the NOK without the help of a train, I think we will be leaving the furthest distances until the spring or summer... perhaps.
Monday, 20 October 2008
Back again but not quite there...
Now, I know I don't make all the sense in the world sometimes, but that was no need for Google's computer (who apparently run blogspot) to flag this page as a "potential spam blog" and "remove it for review"!
Still, apprently a human has decided it isn't, so that's all right then...
It's the school holidays, so I don't really want to sit here typing for hours to bring us up to date: you'll just have to wait a bit. Plus The Black Forest and Switzerland is my destination as of tomorrow morning, which is the only reason I'm here now!
Still, apprently a human has decided it isn't, so that's all right then...
It's the school holidays, so I don't really want to sit here typing for hours to bring us up to date: you'll just have to wait a bit. Plus The Black Forest and Switzerland is my destination as of tomorrow morning, which is the only reason I'm here now!
Monday, 6 October 2008
Physician heal thyself
Onto my first full day in Germany, and it was not looking good. After a trip around the local industrial estate to find a receiver so that I can receive a TV signal (amongst other things) I took a short trip via the school to say hello (about 30 times), shake hands (about 30 times, multiplied by the number of shakes) and see what else had changed in the town.
Just as I decided that the weather was nice, and I'd walk home to continue my (wieder-)entdekungsreise the clouds came rolling in and the rain started. By the time I reached the relative safety of the ferry across the canal I was, to put it bluntly, wet. Durchnässt. Soaked.
Having dried out a little, I had to go shopping. Not that I really wanted to go and give ALDI my money, just that without going shopping I wouldn't have any dinner. The sun wasn't exactly shining, but it had stopped raining. I got my bike no further than the canal ferry (the road to the usual ALDI, just about the only thing in Schacht-Audorf that doesn't require a trip across the canal to get to, was closed, so I had to go a bit further) then the rain started, and by the time ALDI was reached I was, again, soaked.
Of course, when I got home, it stopped raining, the sun came out and was brilliantly sunny all afternoon. And I spent my first weekend in Germany with a stinking cold.
Just as I decided that the weather was nice, and I'd walk home to continue my (wieder-)entdekungsreise the clouds came rolling in and the rain started. By the time I reached the relative safety of the ferry across the canal I was, to put it bluntly, wet. Durchnässt. Soaked.
Having dried out a little, I had to go shopping. Not that I really wanted to go and give ALDI my money, just that without going shopping I wouldn't have any dinner. The sun wasn't exactly shining, but it had stopped raining. I got my bike no further than the canal ferry (the road to the usual ALDI, just about the only thing in Schacht-Audorf that doesn't require a trip across the canal to get to, was closed, so I had to go a bit further) then the rain started, and by the time ALDI was reached I was, again, soaked.
Of course, when I got home, it stopped raining, the sun came out and was brilliantly sunny all afternoon. And I spent my first weekend in Germany with a stinking cold.
Everwhere in life... (II)
It was E.B. Butler.
When I was sitting in front of my computer trying to work out when would be the best time to book my train for I allowed at least an hour from the estimated arrival time of the plane to the departure of my train from the airport. Next time, I won't be so careful.
We arrived 10 minutes early. Not that that should really be a surprise, considering the only time I have ever arrived on time is when we left 10 minutes late, and 25 minutes early and a totally unprepared Gatwick Airport being the record. Through the airport in double-quick time (again, no surprise), and I was on the train and arrived in Central Berlin before I had even planned to be leaving the airport.
So, just get the next train and arrive earlier? No. That is what happens when you book a super-special advanced saver ticket for half-price: you are limited to one train. I could have got on the one before I was booked on, and the one before the one before the one I was booked on, but no. I had to look after 21.2kg of unevenly distributed weight for nigh on two hours. At least it wasn't raining, so I could go outside and make the effort to watch some basketball roadshow. It was more exciting than the departure board.
Still, at least I managed to make Rendsburg on time, not two hours late like the last time I tried. The station is finally undergoing refurbishment (the local paper tells me it should have been done before I arrived last time), two new supermarkets have opened, and a few other minor changes, but other than those (and the weather), it was déjà vu allerseits.
When I was sitting in front of my computer trying to work out when would be the best time to book my train for I allowed at least an hour from the estimated arrival time of the plane to the departure of my train from the airport. Next time, I won't be so careful.
We arrived 10 minutes early. Not that that should really be a surprise, considering the only time I have ever arrived on time is when we left 10 minutes late, and 25 minutes early and a totally unprepared Gatwick Airport being the record. Through the airport in double-quick time (again, no surprise), and I was on the train and arrived in Central Berlin before I had even planned to be leaving the airport.
So, just get the next train and arrive earlier? No. That is what happens when you book a super-special advanced saver ticket for half-price: you are limited to one train. I could have got on the one before I was booked on, and the one before the one before the one I was booked on, but no. I had to look after 21.2kg of unevenly distributed weight for nigh on two hours. At least it wasn't raining, so I could go outside and make the effort to watch some basketball roadshow. It was more exciting than the departure board.
Still, at least I managed to make Rendsburg on time, not two hours late like the last time I tried. The station is finally undergoing refurbishment (the local paper tells me it should have been done before I arrived last time), two new supermarkets have opened, and a few other minor changes, but other than those (and the weather), it was déjà vu allerseits.
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
Everwhere in life is somewhere else, and you get there in a car (I).
I can't remember who it was who said it, but it popped up in a list of quotations or somewhere on one of those free CD's that you get offering you umpteen different sorts of dictionary.
September 11th was upon us, and that could only mean one thing: the day of departure for Language Assistantship (round 2) had arrived. Everything was going to be so easy. German Wings flight Gatwick to Hamburg, bus to station, train to Rendsburg. Oh. If. Only.
Sitting on the Internet one day, it was about time I got around to booking the flight. So, onto German Wings website. From: Gat... hang on... what do you mean you don't fly from Gatwick anymore. Oh well, let's try Stansted then. Stanstead to Ham.... oh... you don't fly from Stansted to Hamburg either, unless I want to change planes in Cologne, which I don't. Let's try it in reverse. From Hamburg to ... Manchester. Ah. Well, stuff that for a game of soldiers, let's go somewhere else.
A lot of surfing later, we eventually come up with the bad news. Gatwick to Hamburg flights don't exist anymore. Neither, it appears, do Stansted to Hamburg flights unless I want to change in Stuttgart, Berlin or Cologne, or fly by British Airways. As the Germans would say, Ja, toll.
And so to Easyjet. Gatwick to Berlin, then the train from there: much quicker than taking a connecting flight or the train from any of the other options.
I have no problems with arriving at the airport early. Check in early, get a decent seat on the plane. Plus there's no running through Gatwick's inordinately slow security, and plenty of time to relax a little first. We left home with plenty of time to get to the airport, in case one of the M23's mega-traffic-jam's was going to get the day off to a bad start. There wasn't one, and I arrived 15 minutes before check-in opened, although I spent the next five trying to find out exactly where you have to go. You follow the signs, through one door, only to be met by a security guard telling you to go the other way. Perhaps someone could explain to me why if they tell you do go through Door E, that you need to turn around and drag 21.2kg of suitcase, plus hand luggage back to go through door D, then through the terminal to a place directly behind the security guards? Answers on a postcard please.
Security, was, surprisingly, virtually empty. No long queue and two of the ten gates open. That's not to say that more were open, merely that there was no-one there. The usual palava, then you get around the corner to the show machine, so balancing carefully as you take your shoes off (I mean, providing a seat or two would be too obvious, wouldn't it!) through they go, then another balancing act around the other side. One newspaper and free bottle of water later, the gate gets called. Here is what I like about getting to the airport early. I'm not quite that insane that I would pay to get on the plane first (7 pounds), but it has it's advantages. Boarding Card number 19 - and that included the people who checked in online and those that paid. By virtue of actually listening to the loudspeaker announcements I still managed to be the first of the "normal" people on board, whilst those who thought they could sneak on and nobody would mind slunk their way back down the queue.
The flight was 8.40am. At 8.20 we were all still sitting in the departure lounge. By 8.31 everyone was on board, and by 8.37 we were already being pushed back. Service or what.
September 11th was upon us, and that could only mean one thing: the day of departure for Language Assistantship (round 2) had arrived. Everything was going to be so easy. German Wings flight Gatwick to Hamburg, bus to station, train to Rendsburg. Oh. If. Only.
Sitting on the Internet one day, it was about time I got around to booking the flight. So, onto German Wings website. From: Gat... hang on... what do you mean you don't fly from Gatwick anymore. Oh well, let's try Stansted then. Stanstead to Ham.... oh... you don't fly from Stansted to Hamburg either, unless I want to change planes in Cologne, which I don't. Let's try it in reverse. From Hamburg to ... Manchester. Ah. Well, stuff that for a game of soldiers, let's go somewhere else.
A lot of surfing later, we eventually come up with the bad news. Gatwick to Hamburg flights don't exist anymore. Neither, it appears, do Stansted to Hamburg flights unless I want to change in Stuttgart, Berlin or Cologne, or fly by British Airways. As the Germans would say, Ja, toll.
And so to Easyjet. Gatwick to Berlin, then the train from there: much quicker than taking a connecting flight or the train from any of the other options.
I have no problems with arriving at the airport early. Check in early, get a decent seat on the plane. Plus there's no running through Gatwick's inordinately slow security, and plenty of time to relax a little first. We left home with plenty of time to get to the airport, in case one of the M23's mega-traffic-jam's was going to get the day off to a bad start. There wasn't one, and I arrived 15 minutes before check-in opened, although I spent the next five trying to find out exactly where you have to go. You follow the signs, through one door, only to be met by a security guard telling you to go the other way. Perhaps someone could explain to me why if they tell you do go through Door E, that you need to turn around and drag 21.2kg of suitcase, plus hand luggage back to go through door D, then through the terminal to a place directly behind the security guards? Answers on a postcard please.
Security, was, surprisingly, virtually empty. No long queue and two of the ten gates open. That's not to say that more were open, merely that there was no-one there. The usual palava, then you get around the corner to the show machine, so balancing carefully as you take your shoes off (I mean, providing a seat or two would be too obvious, wouldn't it!) through they go, then another balancing act around the other side. One newspaper and free bottle of water later, the gate gets called. Here is what I like about getting to the airport early. I'm not quite that insane that I would pay to get on the plane first (7 pounds), but it has it's advantages. Boarding Card number 19 - and that included the people who checked in online and those that paid. By virtue of actually listening to the loudspeaker announcements I still managed to be the first of the "normal" people on board, whilst those who thought they could sneak on and nobody would mind slunk their way back down the queue.
The flight was 8.40am. At 8.20 we were all still sitting in the departure lounge. By 8.31 everyone was on board, and by 8.37 we were already being pushed back. Service or what.
A word on the title...
I seem to remember reading a book called "Tales of a Fourth Grade nothing" by Judy Blume when I was younger (I think it was one of the "Fudge" series - if anybody wants to rediscover their childhood, they can always read it and let me know), so I just adapted the title a bit. After all, us language assistants are teachers, but we're not teachers, depending on who you talk to, where we are, and what we are supposed to be doing at the time.
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