Room for Rent

There is an article on the BBC website this morning about landlords in Paris who are exploiting the very serious housing crisis there by offering apartments for rent in exchange for sex. Anything Paris can do, however, Berlin can do better.

As far as I can tell from the BBC article, these are landlords with apartments to rent. This means that they don't actually live with these women, rather they will stop by with varying frequency to "collect" the rent. In Berlin, which doesn't have a housing crisis that I'm aware of, the situation is a bit different. The horny guys placing these ads are looking for roommates. So conceivably, paying the rent could be a full-time effort.

I stumbled across these ads while searching for a roommate, and they're pretty straightforward:

M55, will nicht mehr allein wohnen

Region: Berlin Berlin Tempelhof Erstellungsdatum: 04.03.08 suche nette Partnerin,die bei mir wohnen und mit mir leben und lieben will.Haus mit Garten,nicht zu gross,vorhanden.Kind oder /und Tier kein problem.Bis bald,hoffe ich.L G

Rough translation: Male 55, doesn't want to live alone anymore. Seeking a nice (female) partner who will live with and love him. House with garden, not too big, available. Child and/or pet is no problem. See you soon (I hope), warm regards.

The next one even offers a trial period of a few nights to test the chemistry, so to speak:

Meine letzte WG-Erfahrung hatte ich (M/40) im Studium, aber Region: Berlin Berlin Erstellungsdatum: 02.03.08 ich habe ein separates Zimmer in meiner schönen Wohnung am Kurfürstendamm frei und könnte mir vorstellen, dass dort eine junge Frau übernachtet, mit der ich auch mal den Abend verbringe, wenn ich in Berlin bin und in der Wohnung übernachte. Zunächst ...quasi zur Probe (ob wir uns verstehen), könntest Du am Montag zu mir kommen und ...wenn Du willst ... KOSTENLOS Mo/Di bei mir übernachten. Klar gesagt: Auch wenn ich "M" bin und dieses Angebot bewußt nur an "W" richte, dränge ich mich garantiert nicht auf !! Ich bin also kein "verklemmter Typ". Das ich unkompliziert und unkonventionell bin, zeigt wohl schon meine Anzeige. Das bedeutet also auch, das bei beiderseitigem Interesse "Vieles" möglich ist ...ganz natürlich, selbstverständlich und ungestreßt. Okay, this guy had his last roommate experience when he was in college, but he has an empty room in his lovely apartment in Kufürstendamm and could imagine having a young lady living there, who would also occasionally spend the evening with him when he's in Berlin and sleeps in the apartment. Therefore, he suggests a test run...Interested parties could come to him on Monday and spend the night FOR FREE. But to be clear: although he's a man looking for a woman, he won't force himself!! At the same time, he's not repressed. That he is uncomplicated and unconventional is obvious from the ad. This means that with mutual interest "a lot" is possible...but naturally and without stress. There are quite a few people who work in Berlin during the week and go home on the weekends. This includes many civil servants who didn't want to move to Berlin when the capital moved here from Bonn. This second ad just screams civil servant/businessman with an adoring wife and three kids somewhere in another city. In both of these ads, the rent is "free." Ah well... There is so much I could say about these ads, but if I think too much about them I get annoyed. I guess it's enough just to make it clear that when it comes to sleazy...well there's Paris-style, and there's definitely Berlin-style. And yes, I have found a new roommate. I did not, however, find him at the site where I found these ads. But more about my new digs and my new roommate later.

And the others?

Now that Eliot Spitzer has resigned for getting caught, I think this would actually be a really good time for all other public officials, who are involved in conduct unbecoming, to do the same. A sort of en masse, "I'm sorry, I fucked up," abandonment of duties.

You know you're out there, and you also know it's just a matter of time. Quit now and no one will even notice...unless of course, your indiscretions involve farm animals. Honestly, I think we've seen just about everything else.

But they won't take my advice, of course. The arrogance associated with power makes them careless, and quicker than you can say "I have a wide stance" they're all over the blogosphere.

Ah well, I tried.

Der Himmel über Berlin & My Exit from DC

The day I took this photo I was moving from Hartmut's place to Silke's place. I shot it behind Hartmut's building when I went to take out the trash.



I've been in Berlin a month now, and before too much time passes, it's important to say Thanks to some lovely people in DC, without whom the only move I would have made would have been to a padded room while dressed in a very long-sleeved jacket.

First, Sarah Jane gave up two weekend days to help me pack. This involved not only packing, which seems obvious, but convincing me to throw out things I really did not need to ship across the pond. I won't go into details here, if you know her, she probably told you about my little "treasures" already anyway... SJ I really appreciate your help and your patience. Thanks again.

Then there was Josh, who responded to my panicked request (read: demand) that he get his ass over to my apartment the night before I moved out, in order to take a bunch of stuff I was going to simply throw away. You know who your friends are by that look they give you when you're totally freaking out and they know it, and you know they know it, but you both act like it isn't happening... Josh, I hope you're using the salad spinner... I miss your face.

Moving on...

It was a simple idea: get a valid driver's license before moving to Europe. Well, what did Steinbeck teach us about the best-laid plans of mice and men? Without going into the details (which beggar belief), let's just say that Mercury was in retrograde and as a result, what began as a brief little excursion to the DMV, ended up in John having to take a day off from work to make sure I actually made my flight. Further evidence of the madness of this day, is that my last meal in DC was at Burger King... Okay, it wasn't so bad, this was also the day that John rode a metro bus for the first time. God, that was hilarious. Dude, I owe you BIG time.

Special thanks also to Sue and to Terry for their beautiful (and oh so practical) going-away sentiments. Sue, my mom tried to steal those gloves, but since I was expecting this, I was ready for her.

Gosh, had I known how much some people in DC cared, I might have stayed... Just kidding, but you get the point.

Thanks my dears!

Inez's Questionnaire

Since Vanity Fair probably owns the copyright to "Proust Questionnaire" I'll just call my version "Inez's Questionnaire," alter the questions slightly, and hope that keeps me out of some sort of intellectual property dispute...like they are sooo worried about this blog...whatever...just saying...

In any case, here goes:

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
...and justice for all.

What is your current state of mind?
Bemused.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Berlin.

Which living person do you most admire?
Aid workers around the world.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
Courage, closely followed by a sense of humor.

What s the quality you most like in a woman?
Same.

What is your greatest extravagance?
Travel.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Cowardice.

What is your greatest fear?
The Ausländerbehörde in Berlin.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
"Virtue itself is offensive." --Nietzsche

Which living person do you most despise?
I don't have the energy to truly despise anyone.

When and where were you happiest?
2000-2001 in Berlin.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
"Fuck!"
"What the fuck?!"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"That's hysterical!"
"My brain is melting."

Which talent would you most like to have?
To be able to play the guitar I own.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
To be brave enough to fall in love again.

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
A handsome and well-endowed man.

What is your most treasured possession?
My grandmother's pearls.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Hopelessness.

What do you most value in your friends?
Loyalty, intelligence, and humor.

Who are your favorite writers?
DH Lawrence, William Trevor, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Keri Hulme, and John Le Carré among others.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
George Smiley.

Who are your heroes in real life?
Aid workers around the world, like Doctors Without Borders.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Nina Simone.

How would you like to die?
In my sleep, like most people.

What is your greatest regret?
Because we didn't have a lot of money when I was growing up, I had to choose between ballet and piano, and I chose ballet. Years later after surgery on both ankles, it was too late for the piano.

What is your motto?
"You get what you settle for."

My New Year Haiku

as the new year comes
i prepare myself for the
wonders it may bring

Is it just me or is this stupid?

My mail service pharmacy recently sent me a prescription refill and enclosed was a letter I was supposed to sign.

Enclosed please find our Notice of Privacy Practices. Under the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996 (HIPAA), we are legally required to distribute this policy and obtain the signature of each family member who receives prescriptions through our mail service pharmacy acknowledging that they have received it. Parents should sign on behalf of their minor children.

Please take a few minutes to review the policy, and then have each adult member listed below sign their names in the appropriate spaces.

No problem, except of course that the policy wasn't enclosed. So I called and said that I would be happy to sign the letter as requested, but the policy was not enclosed and that being the case I couldn't sign the letter to say that I had received and reviewed it. I was told by the very confused Customer Service representative, that the policy is never enclosed and that I just needed to sign the letter and send it back.

Seriously...

I refuse to believe that I'm the only person who ever pointed out the lunacy of sending letters to customers asking them to acknowledge receipt of a document they have in fact NOT received.

A bit frustrated with the woman on the telephone, I sent a fax to the company.

No response...

So here we sit in some kind of perverse stalemate. I'm not signing their stupid letter and they're not sending the bloody policy. Of course they can opt to stop sending me my medicine, but I am prepared to fight this. Okay, I'm prepared to fight it for the next six weeks, then it's a moot point anyway.

Stay tuned for developments...

The Facebook Effect

Good grief, it's been a while...

Well it's not like I wasn't warned, I just didn't want to believe it: Facebook can have a disastrous impact on a blog. So in my case, though my Facebook profile is quite developed, my poor blog is looking like a neglected child...

Obviously, I'm enjoying my Facebook self. I've got a decent amount of friends and since most of them are people I actually know and like, I have no complaints about that. There are also some cool applications that could take up quite a bit of my time, if I allowed them to. Actually, I'm thinking of the Movies application and the night I spent hours searching for cool clips from my favorite films and adding them to my profile. Time well spent, I assure you...

The thing with Facebook is that there the applications do the talking for me. God knows what I'm saying about myself with Filthbook, but Virtual Bookshelf and iLike perhaps balance my image. And then there are the postings from my friends that may give some hints about me based on whatever it is they're saying to me or sending me. Then there are the Questions I ask, the Groups I belong to, and the Causes I support, which must also offer a glimpse into my soul. Or maybe not, who knows??

I suppose I have finally returned to my blog because I just need to speak for me myself; and not speak for me by displaying applications or groups that i find interesting. I'm not sure I have anything particularly interesting to say here these days, but I'm back nevertheless and let's just see what happens, shall we?

Shirley Bassey

I was shocked to discover that at 46, I am closer to 70 than I am to 20. How on earth did that happen, I ask you? So forgive me for being on the lookout for amazingly hot septagenarians, who seem to show that life needn't be one long painful slide into the grave.

That said, imagine my utter delight at finding Shirley Bassey's interpetation of Pink's Get the Party Started. Now that's a role model I can live with.

Enjoy!

Um... NASA, WTF????

Now I really have heard EVERYTHING: Astronauts flying under the influence of alcohol. I mean give me a break.

I truly can't be bothered to look up the name of that mallet-wielding, pepper-spray carrying, and possibly diaper-wearing jilted lover chick who caused NASA to conduct the internal review that led to this most recent embarrassment, but at least she waited to act a fool (as Barbara Jean would say) once she was back on the ground. And though I wish alcohol could explain what she did, apparently she crossed a few state lines ready to kick some love rival ass while she was stone cold sober. But lifting off into space while so obviously drunk that colleagues are concerned for their safety? That just about rips it. Try piloting an America West flight that drunk and see what happens.

Along with the shameless increase in public nosepicking, yet further evidence that we are truly witnessing the decline and fall of western civilization.

Sigh...

Cruel and Unusual?

Holy Shit!

I can't tell if this is "cruel and unusual punishment" or a very cool way for prisoners to get their exercise while locked up. In any case, I offer for your consideration, a bunch of inmates in the Philippines "doing" Thriller. Tja, and there you were thinking Turkish prisons were hellish...

Lost Treasures

Say what you will about the wonders of email and all the speed and convenience associated with this type of communication, I miss letters and postcards.

So here I am in DC (still) unpacking my stuff, which up until now has been a rather joyous task. I repeat, until now. Now I am going through the boxes of letters sent to me over the years; the biggest stack by far arriving the first year I ran off to Europe (1994-1995). People I no longer have contact with, writing to offer moral support for the wacky adventure that was (and is some sense still is) my life. Some of these people I no longer remember, and some I am happy to unremember, if I can get away with using that word, which is definitely NOT the same thing as forgetting.

Then there is a huge stack of letters from people I met in Europe, some who are still near and dear to me, and some I apparently loved deeply (or thought I loved deeply and what's the difference anyway?) though no longer have any contact with. How is that possible?

These letters give me insight into my life then, as I read comments and advice on problems or situations I had apparently written about. [Note: My future biographers will be thrilled with Efrat's 14-page letter. So will hers for that matter...] Or they were just ordinary communications about life and work and love, etc.

My heart is threatening to break over the loss of letters and postcards from my life: a few lines scribbled on a postcard, or volumes poured out on graph paper torn from a notebook, or that so-thin-that-you-can-see-through-it airmail stationery. It was all good. Some of these gems also include photographs taken of me by the letter-writer, which would now be just an email attachment. One such photograph--taken in 1991 on a train between New Orleans and Phoenix by a Dutch guy--reminds me that I actually used to take the time to have my eyebrows waxed. Good grief, who was that woman?

I suppose it doesn't help that I watched Central Station last night. The role that letters play in that film is truly staggering, and of course, heartbreaking.

When I was a freshman in college, one of my friends got drunk and told me (in front of all my other friends) that I was "an abstract bitch living in a concrete world." He meant it as an insult of course, but it was probably one of the nicest mean things anyone ever said about me to my face. And in many ways it's reassuring to know that some things haven't changed too much since I was 18. I mean how else could you describe someone who is seriously upset about the fact that no one writes letters anymore?

I tried to remedy this situation a couple years ago when I was living in Scotland by sending postcards. Though I did receive a few postcards in response, inevitably, I received responses via email saying: "Wow, thanks for the card! Very cool." And yes, I have a ton of emails stored in my archives, BUT IT IS JUST NOT THE SAME, OKAY??

There is hope, however. Since I've been in my new apartment, I have received a few cards and letters, and for that I should publicly thank my brother John, and three good friends from Germany: Ina, Tina, and Sabine. And I suppose I should be happy that people think of me, in whatever form it occurs. Still...

Creep Factor: 7.3

I'm sorry, but a headless torso with an arm that I'm supposed to curl myself up in is just creepy. At least 1000 single women in Japan, however, find the new boyfriend pillows the practical alternative to snoring cheats.

Good grief, what does it say about Japanese men, when a one-armed stuffed pillow is seen as a welcome alternative to the "real" thing?

I know what you're thinking: "Hey hypocrite, what about Goldfinger?"

Different matter entirely...

Lieber Jörg

Gute Besserung wünsche ich Dir aus Washington.



Und viele liebe Grüße an Leyla, Rosa, und Jan!

Kein Zurück

Okay, now I’m musically stuck in the summer of 2003.

During the heatwave that took many lives in Europe that summer, I was meant to be doing the fieldwork for my PhD. Leaving the apartment everyday was an act of courage because it was so hot. Moreover, I was terrified that I’d get the whole ethnography thing wrong and my research project would be a complete failure. As the days ticked away, and my field notebook remained dismally empty, inspiration came from a melancholy song about life from the synthpop duo Wolfsheim.

The song, Kein Zurück (loosely translated as No Return), is a reminder that life has no rewind button; you can’t return to the past, you just have to keep moving forward. It’s also a reminder that what you’re doing can’t ever really be undone: “was getan ist ist getan.” And finally, it is a reminder that life is what is happening now, and not in some magical future when you imagine you'll have all your shit together:

Deine Träume schiebst du endlos vor dir her
Du willst noch leben irgendwann
Doch wenn nicht heute, wann denn dann?
Denn irgendwann ist auch ein Traum zu lange her.

I was also moved by the crazy woman in the video, who seemed to embody all of the frustration I felt that summer. But let's not pretend that the song belongs to my past, I still listen to it at least once a day.

Enjoy.

Merhaba

Okay, so I'm doing my Turkish homework and I've got Istanbul on the brain. So I let my mind wander back to the summer of 2003 when I was living in Little Istanbul (Kreuzberg/Berlin) and Turkey won the Eurovision Song Contest with this entry:



Can I tell you how much fun it was to be living with a Turkish nationalist in a Turkish neighborhood in Berlin when Turkey won? Mind-boggling...

The artist, Sertab Erener, also released a music video for the track, which gives an idea of what the harem girls got up to while the sheik was away:



As for belly dancing, it is important to note that some Turkish men are also quite talented. Particularly the nationalists...

Okay, back to work.

Iyi geceler.

Duh

Apparently the US is losing out on the global tourism market, and according to a recent Associated Press article, Congress aims to do something about it.

Hmmm...

Well they could poll some of my friends around the world who have declined my invitations to come visit. Chief among the reasons they give for passing up on my generous hospitality include the eyeball scans and fingerprinting they would have to endure at US customs.* I mean really, is this any way to treat guests?

What kind of arrogance rules the land when the government appears to be surprised that many tourists are willing to pass on the opportunity to be abused by US Border Patrol agents? Frankly I'm surprised we've managed to hang on to as many visitors as we have.

According to the article, "the United States is the only global destination without an ongoing program to promote itself." Did I mention arrogance? Whatever. Senate Bill S.1661 proposes a new corporation to help promote the United States as a destination to travelers around the world. Visitors from the 27 Visa-waiver countries will be taxed to help pay for it.

Sigh...

________
*Okay, okay, a lot of them also doubt that I'll still be living in the US by the time they schedule their trips.

Men at Work

I'd like for you to meet Luke.



Luke is the graphic design intern in my office this summer. After getting to know me a bit, Luke suggested that I re-think the manner in which I represent myself on this blog, so he took a crack at designing the new image that has replaced my photo.

I like it. It's abstract but honest; childlike but sophisticated; gray but also red. Luke may only be 20, but he's quite discerning. He saw right through me and captured my very soul in the complicated medium of Etch-a-Sketch.

Keep your eye on this kid: he's definitely going places.

The Hustler Challenge

It's a rainy Sunday in Washington. The perfect kind of day to enjoy a pot of coffee and the Sunday paper. So I'm reading the Washington Post, which isn't the most stimulating newspaper on the planet, but it will suffice for a day like this.

Given how dull the Post is, you have to imagine my utter delight at the full-page ad I have just come across:

"Larry Flynt and Hustler Magazine announce a cash offer of up to $1 Million"

All you need to do is prove that you have had sex with a "current member of the United States Congress or a high-ranking government official."

What about wives and husbands, you ask? It says that the encounters need to be of an "illicit" nature, so I guess that rules out the marital bed.

The ad goes on to say that the "relations" need to "documented" and I guess for $1 million you're going to need more than a semen-stained linen dress from The Gap...as if they even do cute dresses anymore.

In any case, if this ad speaks to you, please call 1.800.251.2714 or email hustler@lfp.com with your hotel receipts, racy pics, etc.

I'm guessing the Blackberries around town are heating up with counter-offers...

Have Your Say

My new favorite pastime is truly demented: I scan controversial news items just to read the other readers' comments. Trust me, this is a perverted wasted of time.

That said, it's also utterly fascinating. You can learn more than you want to know about the state of human consciousness by seeing what gets people really riled up. For example, David Aaronovitch has written a fairly unsympathetic account of the media circus surrounding the abduction of Madeleine McCann, a four-year old British girl who was taken from her bed in a holiday resort in Portugal, while her parents ate dinner in a nearby restaurant. In his article, Aaronovitch explores both the outpouring of grief and the intense media interest the case has generated. Given that the website set up for Madeleine has already experienced over 60 million hits, it's safe to say that there are a lot of people out there who feel very strongly about this little girl. And quite a few of them didn't appreciate having their motives questioned by some pesky journalist.

On the other hand, there is apparently another group which has apparently been suffering in silence. Pissed off because at least 40 other children have gone missing in the UK since Madeleine's disappearance without a call to arms for their safe return from David Beckham or Gordon Brown, these folks were more than happy to hear Aaronovitch hint at the fact that Madeleine is a big deal because she's pretty and white.

So, these two groups squared off in the Have Your Say section at the end of the article. Fascinating. The really cool part isn't when they diss Aaronovitch, but when they start dissing each other. To be fair, they also give positive feedback to the commenters that they agree with. But still, I go there for the dirt, not the props. As this was an article in the Times Online, it was all pretty civilized. If you want real nastiness, however, check out the Reader Comments at TMZ.com

Given that TMZ is a gossip site, let's just say that the readers posting comments there aren't quite as reserved as the readers at Times Online. Far from it. At TMZ the abuse comes fast and furious. Even the N-word gets tossed around with abandon. In fact, the comments become racial fairly quickly. I'm not sure why, but having read my fair share of them, I'd say that there's a lot of not-too-pent-up racism flourishing out here in Web 2.0...

In fact, it is pretty bad out here in cyberspace. CBSNews.com had to do away with reader comments in stories dealing with Barack Obama because of the racist content. If you want to get a mild idea of what I'm talking about here, here is a link to a blog posting from the Chicago Tribune discussing CBS' decision, followed by readers' comments.

I'm sure all of this means something. As for why I bother to read this stuff, I have a pretty good idea, but I'll have to get back to you about it later.

In which our heroine rediscovers the love of her life and makes an impulsive purchase...

With all due respect to George Smiley, whom I so deeply love, I have just reconnected with my one true love: Don Quixote.

When Edith Grossman's translation was released in 2003, it was instantly hailed as THE definitive English translation. I was in Berlin at the time, knee-deep in my field work, and though I read the reviews in the New Yorker, the Guardian, and a billion other publications, simply had no time to curl up with my own copy. So it was also added to that list of books I would read when I finally finished my *@#!!% Ph.D.

Well, somehow after I finished my studies, I couldn't find the list, and I just read a bunch of random stuff: Austerlitz, The Medici: Godfathers of the Renaissance, The Plot Against America, Bleak House, The Man who Smiled, Snow, Blindness, The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loann, and some freaky Ruth Rendell thrillers, which put me right off dating.

Earlier this week I finished The Wonga Coup, which is a great read about the failed coup in Equatorial Guinea in 2004. (It's the one in which Maggie Thatcher's son was implicated.) After I finished that book I felt the need to retreat to classic literature and allowed myself to be inspired by the shelves in the bookshop around the corner from my office. And there, as i wandered through the C's I found it. Thank goodness Cervantes wrote this and not some guy named Saramago, because I was tired and ready to go home. Beyond the thrill of remembering that this was a book from my list, the wonderful cover and soothing internal design were like icing on the proverbial cake. I was so excited that I couldn't even wait to order it from Amazon. I paid full price!

I'd read Don Quixote while I was at Carolina. I took a Spanish class during summer school that met for three hours every day for six weeks and Don Quixote was what we read, discussed, and wrote about--inside and out. I'm guessing though, that reading Don Quixote at 21 is a completely different exercise from reading it at 46. Well in my case at least; at 21 I was an optimist and now I'm.... Gosh, I'm not sure what I am. Let's just say that the world makes me very sad and very happy at the same time.

In any case, I think it's the perfect time to curl up with one of literature's most compelling characters. But as soon as my stuff arrives from Berlin (and New York, and Rocky Mount) I'll reread all of my George Smiley novels. Wouldn't want to hurt his feelings...