Christmas Chocolate and Dogs

So if anyone was wondering where I'd disappeared to instead of posting, I found my true love and ran off to lick its chocolaty goodness into the sunset. Then I got a stomach ache and found myself back in reality...

This picture was taken at the symphony gala. As an actual-factual (I did not just quote my psycho-overly-caffeinated college music theory professor) guest at this fine event, thanks to donors paying for principal symphony members to attend (instead of having to pay the $150 ticket ourselves), I got to get all dressed up to spend the evening gnawing on dry salmon and making small talk with fancy and important retired community members. When I wasn't worrying about spilling my wine, knocking my fork off my plate or dripping chocolate onto the white table cloth, I was having a good time. It was generally a successful evening until the band starting warming up during the speech (welcoming a stern reprimand from the speaker) and subsequently playing so loudly that our table mates had to take out their hearing aids to avoid the squealing and fuzz. They ended up just leaving, ears all worn out, poor souls. And they actually had to pay the $150...

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My German Connection (since my blog is supposedly still somehow German-theme-related and all) will be arriving next week Thursday for a 2 1/2 week Iowa holiday adventure. Matthias, my former long-term boyfriend, also joined us for Christmas with his German friend, Markus, in 2003 after their exchange semester to my alma-mater, where Matthias and I had met as "global buddies."

This Christmas, in addition to singing Christmas carols along with the family woodwind trio, a car ride to look at fancy Christmas lights, a brunch with all the old school friends and a post-Christmas trip to Iowa City and Ames to see Megan and her husband for New Years, Matthias will get to stay busy with my attorney's dogs. We will be dogsitting the two Westies for 3 weeks while my attorney and his family go to China over Christmas. We actually just dogsat for them over Thanksgiving, and I, already desperately longing for a doggy of my own, had the time of my life entertaining, walking the fluffballs and being followed around by my little shadows for 4 days. Actually, the whole family fell in love with the sweet, easy-going pooches, even if it was clear the dogs loved me the most... Nevermind I was the one to feed them and let them sleep in my bedroom instead of in their crates. Unfortunately living at home still shows no signs of a dog of my own anytime soon, as my parents have made it quite clear that there won't be a puppy in my stocking this year. So at least I have the dogsitting to bring me my Christmas cheer!

In addition to looking forward to seeing Matthias, I am also very excited for the goods he will be transporting with him, namely the rest of the treasures from my apartment in Berlin I couldn't afford to send back when I moved home 16 months ago. A few days before my departure from Germany, realizing just how much I had to get back to America, I schlepped 5 boxes and a suitcase into a taxi and then to the Post to send home. But upon realizing just how many hundreds of euros it would cost to send my overly-stuffed boxes overseas, I opted to send 2 boxes and the suitcase to America, sending the other 3 boxes to Matthias' house within Germany at a much more affordable rate. However, back at the Berlin post office, having no idea what was in each of the boxes, I ended up of course sending the boxes with the least amount of useful things in them to America, including my least favorite clothes, some of which I ended up disposing of as soon as they hit American soil, while leaving all of my oboe music, pictures, CD collection and clothes I could really have used behind.

I wasn't sure when I'd ever see that stuff again, but was planning on wiring Matthias money to send them eventually. Now that he's coming, he's conveniently bringing the important stuff with in in suitcases. So hopefully I will see my old goodies soon, as well as some fresh Christmas edible treats - because yes, I did write an extensive list of things to bring from Germany. Magenbrot, anyone?

Night on the Town

"So how old do you think I am," I asked, immediately regretting my question. He looked quizzically at me, examining my face, cocking his head from one side to the other in serious study.

I looked away laughing, but feeling suddenly self conscious. It had all started out as a joke, anyway. Martha, my co-worker turned friend, joined me and our new gay bartender friend, Chad, back at our seats at the bar.

"He's trying to decide how old I am," I said, "and I don't think I want to know what he's thinking!"

Chad turned to Martha for assistance and I heard him mutter, "28?"

I groaned and Martha laughed. "So you actually think she is a year older than me?" Martha asked, amused. Earlier he had guessed she was 27 or 28. She is actually 41.

She attempted to comfort me. "Heidi, you can't trust him. He is horrible at guessing people's ages." Her attempt was unconvincing since she was obviously enjoying the fact that Chad thought she was younger than her actually 26-year-old friend. It was too late; my night had been jilted. Despite the fact that I had inflicted this torment on myself, I wailed, "I look that much older than I am?"

Our new companion decided to milk the situation for all it was worth and continued smugly, "You just don't have the sparkle in your eyes. Look at Martha," he began, "She just has a sparkle in her eyes. You just look stressed... It makes you look older!"

"I live at home with my parents and have no responsibilities," I countered, "I have no stress! Besides," I added in my own weak defense, "I probably look tired - I just played a symphony concert!" Martha, trying her best to support me through suppressed giggles added, "I'm the one with stress! I am a single mom with tons of responsibilities!"

"Exactly," the man said, nodding more in agreement with his own analysis than with what we were saying. "You live at home with your parents, Heidi. You act stuffy; you need to loosen up. You're not living life!"

"But I did live alone," I replied defensively, "For a long time, in fact! I moved home to pay back student loans!" I was being psychoanalyzed by a very drunk bartender whom I had just met, but for some reason I felt the need to prove I wasn't a total loser to this guy.

"Look at Martha," Chad said, turning to my amused friend. "She's taking her life in her own hands. She's living life! But you," he said, pointing at me, "you tried living on your own. It didn't work, so you moved back home to mommy and daddy." This man was obviously having way too much fun riling me up and Martha and I looked at each other, laughing through dropped-jaw amazement.

"You need to loosen up," he prompted me again. "Have fun! You sit over there acting bored, like you think I'm an idiot. Have another Amstel Light!"

It didn't matter that I had just spent the last hour talking to him and laughing at his pathetic jokes. This man had dubbed me a stuffy, arrogant bar patron. Martha, still shocked by the positive analysis she was gaining from the whole conversation, said introspectively, "I'm usually the one people tell to loosen up. I'm usually the one people think is stuck up. This is good news for me!"

Quickly realizing her own good news came at my expense, she added her own touch of analysis the conversation. "But I think Heidi just looks sophisticated. She appears educated and suave. You don't see girls like her in the bars here often. It makes her look intimidating."

This analysis was also news to me, though I appreciated her attempt to make me feel better. I felt pretty unintimidating, but Chad nodded in contemplated agreement. "You're right. That could really be it," he said. Feeling satisfied he had reached a sufficient conclusion, he ordered us a round of shots to "loosen me up," which had apparently become his goal of the evening.

Later, after he had thrown back all three shots he had bought us (rejected by Martha and me since we still had to drive quite a distance home) and chased them down with another cocktail, he decided that I was satisfactorily "loosened up." He looked hard at me and said with infinite wisdom, "Now you have the sparkle in your eyes." Feeling proud of his obvious therapeutic skills, he said decisively, "See, you opened up. Now you're livin' life!"

"Oh, there's no sparkle. I have no sparkle," I muttered cynically, happy to remain in the arrogant role. Martha laughed, but Chad was already gone, off mingling with the "loose" bar girls. His mission had been accomplished with us and he was off to to enjoy the company of the less stuffy patrons of the evening. So, this is is the nightlife at home, I thought. Grrreat.

Haunting Me...

So after nearly 14 months of moving out of my apartment in Berlin, guess what I receive? A bill for 330 euros for payment for water and electricity costs!!

In Germany I think it's pretty standard to pay a certain "flat rate" electricity and water bill each month, roughly calculated based on what appliances you have, how many people live there, etc. Then at the end of the year, the respective utility companies come check the your gauges for the actual amount you've used for the year. You either get charged for using more than that estimated amount, or get reimbursed if you've used less.

But 14 months later? Are the Germans really that insane? And slow?? Not that I'm surprised, but come on - even they must know it's excessive. To make matters even worse, if I do a wire transfer to Germany with this money, it will be exorbitantly higher than 330 euros. With the exchange rate as terrible as it is, it will come to almost $476. Plus, add another $50 to that with the international wiring charge from my bank. That means giving $526 of my very hard earned cash to a stupid apartment agency who thinks they can charge a former tenant who has moved to America over a year ago. Is that right??

Unfortunately, it seems, under German law, it is legal. I moved out on August 31, 2006. Apparently from the December after I moved out to this December, they are allowed to charge me. I also knew there was a possibility of being charged, but hello, I was present when the meter guy came to read the meter right before I moved out. It could be that he really did read it and let it sit for 14 months, or it's also possible they have added costs on from the guy who moved in after me.

So I'm facing a moral dilemma. I don't want to lie, but I would love to just to just ignore it and not pay it at all. I didn't even receive the bill personally. I was forced to give the apartment agency a German contact address since I was leaving the country, so I gave them Matthias' address, so he's the one who received the bill. He's being gracious enough to help take care of this, and it is tempting to have him call them and say he doesn't know where I live anymore. But I certainly don't want them to go after Matthias for the money if they don't get it from me! Like I said, I really don't want to lie (and possibly run the risk of getting arrested the next time I try to fly to Germany!). But, I also know how easy it is for businesses to take advantage of people by demanding unreasonable or inaccurate payments and many people just give in and pay it because it's just easier than fighting it. So the companies win and even though they were dishonest in the first place.

Believe me, I know this based on personal experience since this happened to me for a whole year with the leading German telephone company, Deutsche Telekom. I kept getting charged around 5.50 euros (around $7.75) a month for an Internet security package I did not have or want. So not only did I waste time and money on the phone with Deutsche Telekom (around $2 per minute for "customer service" calls), I also went into the Deutsche Telekom store every month and asked that the charge be removed and that I be reimbursed since they took the payment directly out of my bank account. Each time I talked to them, they reassured me it had been changed permanently in the system, but in actuality, it never was removed. So I, the poor college student, was helping to make it possible for top Telekom execs to live in greater luxury through the dishonest way they ran their company!

I will probably just pay the dumb utility bill, plus all the extra money with the wire transfer and exchange rate. I mean, I could just trust that it is legitimate, just annoyingly slow. It's just so depressing to think a huge chunk of my next paycheck will be going towards this when I'm struggling to get ahead as it is! How appropriate that it's almost Halloween and I'm being haunted by a utility bill ghost! Any suggestions on what I do?

New Set of Wheels

Well, I did it. I bought my very first car. It's a used ( '95 to be exact) Ford Contour but it seems to run fine and despite the scratches, a few minor dents, and broken cup holders, it's not half bad. And, it's mine!

I actually wasn't really in the market for a new car. I had been happily using my mom's little Ford Focus since I've been home. Actually, when I first started working in Sioux City I would regularly ride into work with my dad, who also commutes to around Sioux City. But now with my current job where I work 8-5 instead of 8:30-4:30, it doesn't work as well with his teacher schedule; he would end up waiting for me over an hour each night. So, instead he's been dropping off and picking up my mom from work and I got her car to use.

Well, I guess enough was enough and they decided it was time for me to have my own mode of transportation. The stipulations were that it had to run and be affordable enough for me to pay cash for it since I can't add a monthly car payment to my loan repayments. Also, I really didn't want it to be ugly. My dad proceeded to research some cars online, and after spotting a possibility, we headed to the used car dealership on Monday. After a little negotiating by my dad, I wrote the check and drove my new car home, with bank account feeling more than a little depleted. I will still need to find a solution for my morning coffee mug since cup holders are non-existent, and I also need to have a general inspection to make I'm not driving a time bomb on wheels, but so far I'm happy with my new car.

After my big purchase, I was understandably more than a little irked yesterday as I prepared to get out of my car at the Wal-Mart parking lot. Reaching over to grab my purse from the passenger seat, I noticed a young girl in a sporty car pull into the parking spot next to me. As she flung her car door open and jumped out, I watched the wind whip her car door right into the side of my car. She paused to look at the potential damage on both our vehicles but then hurried off towards the store, with not so much as a look in my direction.

I sat in my car, puzzled, not knowing if I should chase after her or wait and to see if there was any damage. I got out and looked. Sure enough, there was a white paint smudge from her car and the gleam of a fresh dent. I scratched away some of the paint residue and was left with a smaller, but nonetheless noticeable, speck. Uncertain how to react in such a situation, I debated whether or not to leave a note. I didn't know if it was worth making an issue over. So despite being bothered by her rude, indifferent attitude towards the situation, I resisted.

I came back out to the parking lot a little later and drove off to do another errand. I left reluctantly, still feeling frustrated that this rude girl would think she could just get away with turning a blind eye to the situation, even if it had been an accident. Reaching my dad on my cell phone, he suggested at least getting her license plate number.

So on my way back past Wal-Mart, pride for my new little car directed me back into the still-empty spot next to the sports car, which was still there. I scribbled out a short note, letting the girl know I had seen her hit my car and walk away and that I had written down her license number, should I need it. I finished off by suggesting she be more careful next time. A zinger it was not, but I didn't want to be mean, just firm....scare her a little by knowing I could do something. I'm sure I will never pursue fixing the little dent - it's not the first dent on the car and I'm sure it won't be the last one, especially after daily parking in the parking ramp downtown - but it all goes back to the principle. I just felt better knowing the little brat knows she got caught!

The Soundtrack of Life

Since I started commuting to and from work, the car stereo has taken a significant role in my day and I rely on it to accompany my particular mood of that moment of each day.

To start the day, my reluctant early morning drive is the perfect time for NPR's Morning Edition. Like clockwork, I turn the program on right after the headlights as I'm backing out of the driveway. Not one for hectic radio advertisements and peppy DJs, and especially not in the early a.m., my morning drive is the perfect time of the day to listen to the world news and interviews with the calm NPR voices.

After work, often I enjoy the silence as I let my mind run freely after a cramped day in cubicle conformity. Or I crank up a symphony or a Bach cantata and exercise my vocal chords by joining with the rich melodies and choruses as I enjoy the freedom of driving alone, away from the routine, into the sunset. At night, driving home after closing at my department store on-call jewelry sales job or after going out, the car becomes transformed into Heidi's Disco Car as I crank some techno or house mix tunes even louder.


Tonight as I drove home after the first conductor search committee meeting for the symphony, Brahms 3 poured loudly but gracefully through the speakers. Paired perfectly with the cool, but clear air of the early fall night, the emotion of the piece drew to the fore thoughts that have been circling through my head in a back and forth pattern for the past year.

I realized that I have just past the one year anniversary since my plane touched American soil. That landing had transported me back to a life living at home, with my parents, after being so independent. As my thoughts continued to swirl around this point, I thought of this blog, how its name "Destination Germany" is somehow so inappropriate, yet hard to change. Does it mean finally giving up my last bit of independence? Surrendering, at least temporarily, that part of me who took the plunge and moved abroad, not worrying what might happen if I didn't get accepted into a music conservatory?

I still don't know what the near future holds. Frankly, a lot of these things decide themselves simply because of my situation - paying back loans and gaining precious orchestral experience. But how long will I stay in this part of Iowa? Will I take a large leap and move to a big city elsewhere with no secure playing opportunity lined up (after saving up more money, of course)? Will I ever move to Germany again? If I stay in Northwest Iowa, will I finally get an apartment in Sioux City? Will I ever use my music or German degrees in a day job? How long will I be a legal secretary? Would I ever be interested in studying a new subject completely different (yet perhaps more practical...)?

Constantly different scenarios play through my mind going back and forth like a furious "he loves me, he loves me not" flower petal plucking session. One moment I come to a solid conclusion and the next minute, I chuckle to myself as I realize how it couldn't work right now or maybe not at all. Like with the decision to put in Romantic Oboe Sonatas or the soundtrack from Le Divorce, sometimes the decisions of my future change just as easily as what CD to stick in the stereo at that particular moment of the day. But last night with Brahms 3 filling every inch of the car, emotion spilling out of the speakers like the yolk out of a cracked egg (I know...a stretch), somehow none of those decisions matter and for that moment it's okay to just keep doing what I'm doing. I am content.

Then I wake up early the next morning, turn on NPR's Morning Edition as I'm backing out the driveway, still half-asleep. I sip my coffee, listen to the news and morning interviews, and prepare myself for a new day where the whole thought process will just begin again.

Wedding Bells...

(....not mine) rang last weekend.

A high school and later Univ. of Iowa friend of mine got married Saturday. Not only was the wedding and reception beautiful, and Amanda and her new husband were walking on clouds, it was a great chance for the rest of the high school gang to get together and socialize, as well as meet some new people. While stuck on another continent, I went to a couple interesting and fun weddings (one in Germany, one in Poland) but missed out in weddings of three good friends at home, which I still regret. So I had a really nice time...

That was, however, until they called us un-married folks down to the dance floor for the necessary bouquet-tossing. Nestling myself safely into the back row, I believed I would be safe from catching the dreaded bundle that may as well have had thorns. Little did I know that there might be other singles trying desperately to avoid the flowers like the plague, as well. I found that out the hard way when a (heavier) young lady standing next to me jumped out of the way of the bouquet, which, incidentally, was not even heading in our direction. Losing her balance, she landed squarely on my foot with her high heel. I yelped in pain and hobbled off the dance floor over to the bartender who indulged me in a plastic cup of ice to set on my throbbing foot. A few days later, I still can't bend my toes all the way, but at least I can walk normally on it again...

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More later...symphony rehearsals this week will dominate my evenings (and means for reed making and practicing now!)...

Broken Up Routine

The drive from home to Sioux City, where I work, is a 35 minute drive. I generally take the same, dull route each time I drive in and out of Sioux City. Unfortunately, the main road through Sioux City has been torn up and is down to one lane because of construction all summer, bringing a certain amount of aggression out in me. This is especially so when I get stuck behind a slow semi-truck in the one lane not blocked off with construction cones, or, heaven forbid, a train during rush hour.

So my morning rush down the highway comes to a slow grind upon entering the city when the traffic line-up begins. By the time I turn out of the construction zone and whiz into downtown, I zip in and out of traffic, fly into the parking ramp and slam to a screeching halt into a parking space. Then I grab my coffee and my lunch and run down two flights of stairs in the parking ramp before jaunting across the street and up the elevator (of which I have gotten stuck two times in two months) into the our third-floor office. Why not leave a little bit earlier and not be so rushed every morning? Good question.

Anyway, comparatively, my drive home in the evening is much more relaxed without the time pressure. So with the extra-relaxed feeling after a sporadic yoga session after work the other night, I decided to change things up a little by taking a different route out of town and thus avoiding the usual industrial view.

Aside from a few picturesque sections of town, the city is more functional than handsome, so I was happily transported into another world as I took the hilly tree-lined drive past historically-preserved huge brick houses with their sprawling porches, lovely huge cathedrals, and even past a enchanted cream-colored building with a perfectly manicured lawn which could have been convent out of a European picture book. I peered to see what the building was and upon seeing the sign, I learned that it is the cathedral and elementary school where my deceased boss's children attend school.

Little did I know that this other world existed in the industrial city. As I crept along, craning my neck in this direction and that, not wanting to miss anything in my new found wonderland, I contemplated moving into the city for the first time. It would make sense, eliminating my stressful morning commute. Also now that the symphony season is starting next week, it would be nice to be able to go home instead of listlessly occupying myself for the two hours between work and rehearsals. I'd be closer to almost everything, including a bit more action, and best of all, I could finally get a dog. Maybe I could even live on a bus line so I could avoid having to buy a car.

I had always avoided the idea of moving to Sioux City first of all because living at home is the best money-saving option. Also, I felt if I were ever going to get away from Northwest Iowa again, I would rather not throw money out the window by paying rent in a city I don't particularly like. But, now that it appears spending another year here at home is again the best option, I have again mulled over the possibility of moving into my own place. Truth be told, I'm happy at home. It's comfortable and it's cheap. But I've more than established myself in Sioux City for the time being and it might be nice to be closer to everything and not spend so much on gas. Did I mention I could get a dog then?

But unless I find a roommate, which for a day sounded like it could maybe be my brother, I don't think this will come to fruition. Because despite the convenience, I still refuse to waste money on an expensive studio apartment if I can live at home for free. At least now if I do decide to make the move, I know a neighborhood I want to live in!