Seeing as the summer semester in Konstanz had its kick off yesterday, I thought it fitting to get back into the blogosphere with less geeky posts than this.
A week ago I went to get a haircut. Being a student means one a) has limited finances and b) doesn't worry about one's looks the same way as some of the more respectable classes in society do (that is not to say one doesn't worry about one's looks at all, it's just that on average one's worries can be satisfied without the help of a high-class haircut). Considering these two things I went to the cheapest barber in town, Coco's Friseur. In case some of my readers are actually from the area, here is a GoogleMaps link showing its location.
In this establishment one can get quite a presentable haircut for only 5 euros, if one asks for a "dry" one. Since a "wet" haircut is essentially just getting your hair washed before getting it cut, I don't see the point in spending more money on it instead of washing one's hair at home right before hitting up the barbers.
The downside to Coco's being so cheap is that it is insanely popular. Out of the two times that I have been there, the wait always exceeded an hour.
This was one of the two times, so I did not at all regret bringing my a notebook with me along with a tome of Oscar Wilde.
I did, however, have time to make some observations in the place during those almost two hours that I spent there.
Observation 1:
It is amazing what ladies from the older generation want done with their hair. Almost every one of them wanted her hair redyed, recurled, rewashed and God knows what else. Almost every one of them had a head covered in rollers or tin foil at some point during her stay. I suspect (though I have no conclusive proof, I wish someone would do a study), they were the ultimate cause of the long wait times.
Observation 2:
The behavior of the older gentlemen complimented that of the ladies in a strangely gallant way. Their hair situation seemed to be the opposite of the ladies: most of their heads possessed only a fraction of that which originally covered them completely I am sure (or else there was a whole generation of bald young men, but I have never encountered any supporting evidence for this). And yet these fellows braved hours of stupefying wait while the ladies beautified themselves endlessly only to sit themselves in a barber's chair and ask for their sole remaining lock of hair to be shortened by one centimeter.
At the time I found the whole picture slightly annoying. The next day I thought it touching.
Observation 3 (unrelated):
I never really noticed until last Tuesday how strange a conversation between a barber and their client appears to an on-looker. Somehow one forgets that normally one converses with a barber through the mirror in front of one's chair. To someone looking from the side (as I was doing for a good portion of the day), the picture is reminiscent of a Duo Interp skit, where both of the participants cannot make direct eye contact and so are staring and making faces at the space in front of them, pretending that their partner right there too. Seeing barbers and their clients perform this was a bit unusual to me, for some reason.
Showing posts with label Bodensee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bodensee. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Friday, September 2, 2011
First Post (couldn't think of anything better at this point)
This is my first entry in this blog in which I hope to describe with varying extent of detail what happens during the year that I will spend in Konstanz (Constance in English), Germany. The opinions expressed in this blog are my own and do not reflect any positions or opinions of the International Office at Umass or Uni Konstanz. If you find any inaccuracies or offensive entries, please let me know. If you find the blog boring, also let me know, because I tend to get carried away with details sometimes and forget that brevity is the sister of genius.
Day 1 (September 1st)
After a safe and uneventful flight from Boston (the most exciting things that happened were me spilling a glass of orange juice on myself after breakfast and a lion chasing a rhino on the TV screen in the back of the seat before me), I arrived at Zurich airport around 10:30, local time.
I disembarked from the plane, showed my passport to some Swiss official with a huge black tooth-shaped earring, who recommended that I get a German visa if I plan to stay there for more than a month, assured him that this was in fact my plan, and went in search of my luggage. It so happened that my flight arrived at a terminal that was separate from the main airport building, so I had to take something called SkyMetro to reach my stuff. This SkyMetro turned out to be an "unpiloted" (there was no conductor to be seen) chain of two or three subway-like cars that cruised between the terminal of my arrival and the main airport building. It accompanied this cruising with showing in its windows holograms of traditionally-dressed Swiss girls yodeling something about cheese at the passengers from the tunnel. This awesome (literally) device delivered me to the main terminal, where I was able to find all of my luggage and haul it over to the conveniently adjacent proper train station.
There I ran into one unexpected and ultimately insignificant problem with money. I had forgotten that Switzerland was not in the Eurozone and was still using its own franks. I was strongly discouraged by everyone I talked to in Zurich from exchanging dollars for euros there because that would involve changing them for Swiss franks as an intermediary step and since that would incur an additional transaction fee, I would lose a considerable amount of cash. It would make more sense, I was told, to exchange currencies upon my arrival at Konstanz. Thus my only hope was that the Swiss railroad accepts dollars as payment for a train ticket. The thought of this hope being in vain (and my possible courses of action if it were so) occupied me most of the time that I spent in line (which was fairly long) at the ticket booth.
When it was finally my turn I came up to the counter and said:
"This will most likely sound like a very American question, but can I pay for a ticket to Konstanz with US dollars?"
The ticket booth lady, however, seemed unphased by this and replied "Yes, sure." with a smile. She then proceeded to break my $100 bill by giving me change from the ticket price in a mixture of three Swiss coins ("souvenirs from Switzerland" as she called them) and dollar bills that she brought from some recesses of the booth. I was surprised to discover that the dollar portion of the change contained a $50 bill with the stern face of Ulysses Grant peering at me from it. I do not remember ever encountering this denomination in the US. I thought it would be amusing (and definitely not realistic) if the Swiss railroad ordered a special package of bills every time the US Treasury printed a batch.
The train ride to Konstanz, much like the flight to Zurich, consisted mostly of restless napping with occasional peeking at the scenery that was flying by in the window (for some reason no yodeling maidens showed up this time).
I was greeted at the Konstanz train station by Sabrina, one of the tutors at the International Programs Office at Uni Konstanz. She took me and my two heavy bags first to the currency exchange, then to a bus station. From there we rode a bus (naturally) to my dorm on Schürmann-Hoster-Weg, where I met Jannis, one of my suite-mates. He kindly offered to take me on a tour of the area (points of interest mainly being grocery shops) and I accepted. After we had seen all there was to see in our neighborhood, Jannis went home to continue working on his bachelor thesis and I crossed the Rhine into the center of town in my first attempt that day to get lost in Konstanz. I find that getting lost in places and then discovering your way back home is the best way to learn the lay of the land and encounter spots and people that would have otherwise remained unknown if one just stuck to one's regular commute routes. This might also be an elaborately practical and mundane excuse for my love to wander around somewhat aimlessly, but I like to pretend it's the real reason. In any case, despite my efforts, I did not get lost and was back home around 4:30 pm.
Sabrina mentioned that a gathering of international exchange students was happening at a biergarten called Hafen Halle (Harbour Hall, because it is located on the waterfront of Konstanz harbour) at 8:00 that evening, so I unpacked most of my stuff, made a 'to-buy' list and went grocery shopping with Jannis and Clair (my other suite-mate who showed up in the evening). I got myself some black bread, butter, Gouda cheese (I didn't want to start experimenting with German cheeses just yet), oatmeal flakes (these took some time to find because none of my suite-mates had heard of oatmeal porridge), a box of Earl Grey and a bag of some local version of dumplings called Maultaschen. By my calculations, that would last me the first couple of days or, in the case of oatmeal, weeks.
Clair had a car for all of our groceries and after we were done with them dropped me off at the train station (amazing cyclicity: my day at Konstanz began at the train station and ended practically there too) , from where I walked to Hafen Halle. It was a short walk, because the place was directly next to the tracks, I just had to make a bit of a loop to get to the other side of them.
Even though I got there about five minutes after 8, I turned out to be the first one on the spot and made several loops through the biergarten before noticing a group of English-speaking young people arrive at the establishment. I joined them, had my first non-imported German beer in years (it was some brand of Edelstoff) and, as I'm beginning to find increasingly typical for international youth gatherings, learned/taught some curses and obscenities from languages, the speakers of which were present at the table (me included). We were interrupted once by an unusual occurence.
On the waterfront next to the biergarten is a youth theatre building, the foyer of which has floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors. I had noticed its neon red sign while I was searching for the group, but didn't pay much attention to it afterwards. Suddenly, we heard commotion from that direction and when we looked there we saw a man banging on the windows and shrieking as if trying to get in or express utter despair at something. Inside the building a woman jumped up from the desk and started actively gesticulating something to the man, pointing in some direction as if directing him to a door (or just away from her?). She might have been yelling too, but we couldn't hear anything because of the glass. The man seemed to ignore her and kept throwing himself at the glass as if he was actually trying to break it. We couldn't understand what he was saying and after at most five minutes he ran away, leaving us all perplexed as to what had happened. Personally, I suspect this might have just been a staged act, maybe even an audition. I mean, I'd take anyone for a play that was willing to put up a row like that in public and do it in a believable way.
After this brief interjection from a rowdy stranger, we continued our discussion, though I do not remember what it was about at that point. I walked home through the area called Paradies because some of the students at the table lived in the dorms Europahaus and Paradies (everything in the Paradies area is called 'Paradies': dorms, cafes; I find that confusing). As all my new acquaintances left me, I decided it was time for a second attempt at getting lost in Konstanz.
This time it was night and I was a bit more tired which should have made things harder. In addition, I had a beer to drink at the cafe. "This will be fun" - I thought to myself. But it wasn't. I knew pretty much the whole way where I was and aside from an immense desire to go to visit a bathroom (beer will do that to you) experienced no discomfort whatsoever during the journey. I came home at midnight, blissfully pilgrimaged to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and went to bed.
Day 1 (September 1st)
After a safe and uneventful flight from Boston (the most exciting things that happened were me spilling a glass of orange juice on myself after breakfast and a lion chasing a rhino on the TV screen in the back of the seat before me), I arrived at Zurich airport around 10:30, local time.
I disembarked from the plane, showed my passport to some Swiss official with a huge black tooth-shaped earring, who recommended that I get a German visa if I plan to stay there for more than a month, assured him that this was in fact my plan, and went in search of my luggage. It so happened that my flight arrived at a terminal that was separate from the main airport building, so I had to take something called SkyMetro to reach my stuff. This SkyMetro turned out to be an "unpiloted" (there was no conductor to be seen) chain of two or three subway-like cars that cruised between the terminal of my arrival and the main airport building. It accompanied this cruising with showing in its windows holograms of traditionally-dressed Swiss girls yodeling something about cheese at the passengers from the tunnel. This awesome (literally) device delivered me to the main terminal, where I was able to find all of my luggage and haul it over to the conveniently adjacent proper train station.
There I ran into one unexpected and ultimately insignificant problem with money. I had forgotten that Switzerland was not in the Eurozone and was still using its own franks. I was strongly discouraged by everyone I talked to in Zurich from exchanging dollars for euros there because that would involve changing them for Swiss franks as an intermediary step and since that would incur an additional transaction fee, I would lose a considerable amount of cash. It would make more sense, I was told, to exchange currencies upon my arrival at Konstanz. Thus my only hope was that the Swiss railroad accepts dollars as payment for a train ticket. The thought of this hope being in vain (and my possible courses of action if it were so) occupied me most of the time that I spent in line (which was fairly long) at the ticket booth.
When it was finally my turn I came up to the counter and said:
"This will most likely sound like a very American question, but can I pay for a ticket to Konstanz with US dollars?"
The ticket booth lady, however, seemed unphased by this and replied "Yes, sure." with a smile. She then proceeded to break my $100 bill by giving me change from the ticket price in a mixture of three Swiss coins ("souvenirs from Switzerland" as she called them) and dollar bills that she brought from some recesses of the booth. I was surprised to discover that the dollar portion of the change contained a $50 bill with the stern face of Ulysses Grant peering at me from it. I do not remember ever encountering this denomination in the US. I thought it would be amusing (and definitely not realistic) if the Swiss railroad ordered a special package of bills every time the US Treasury printed a batch.
The train ride to Konstanz, much like the flight to Zurich, consisted mostly of restless napping with occasional peeking at the scenery that was flying by in the window (for some reason no yodeling maidens showed up this time).
I was greeted at the Konstanz train station by Sabrina, one of the tutors at the International Programs Office at Uni Konstanz. She took me and my two heavy bags first to the currency exchange, then to a bus station. From there we rode a bus (naturally) to my dorm on Schürmann-Hoster-Weg, where I met Jannis, one of my suite-mates. He kindly offered to take me on a tour of the area (points of interest mainly being grocery shops) and I accepted. After we had seen all there was to see in our neighborhood, Jannis went home to continue working on his bachelor thesis and I crossed the Rhine into the center of town in my first attempt that day to get lost in Konstanz. I find that getting lost in places and then discovering your way back home is the best way to learn the lay of the land and encounter spots and people that would have otherwise remained unknown if one just stuck to one's regular commute routes. This might also be an elaborately practical and mundane excuse for my love to wander around somewhat aimlessly, but I like to pretend it's the real reason. In any case, despite my efforts, I did not get lost and was back home around 4:30 pm.
Sabrina mentioned that a gathering of international exchange students was happening at a biergarten called Hafen Halle (Harbour Hall, because it is located on the waterfront of Konstanz harbour) at 8:00 that evening, so I unpacked most of my stuff, made a 'to-buy' list and went grocery shopping with Jannis and Clair (my other suite-mate who showed up in the evening). I got myself some black bread, butter, Gouda cheese (I didn't want to start experimenting with German cheeses just yet), oatmeal flakes (these took some time to find because none of my suite-mates had heard of oatmeal porridge), a box of Earl Grey and a bag of some local version of dumplings called Maultaschen. By my calculations, that would last me the first couple of days or, in the case of oatmeal, weeks.
Clair had a car for all of our groceries and after we were done with them dropped me off at the train station (amazing cyclicity: my day at Konstanz began at the train station and ended practically there too) , from where I walked to Hafen Halle. It was a short walk, because the place was directly next to the tracks, I just had to make a bit of a loop to get to the other side of them.
Even though I got there about five minutes after 8, I turned out to be the first one on the spot and made several loops through the biergarten before noticing a group of English-speaking young people arrive at the establishment. I joined them, had my first non-imported German beer in years (it was some brand of Edelstoff) and, as I'm beginning to find increasingly typical for international youth gatherings, learned/taught some curses and obscenities from languages, the speakers of which were present at the table (me included). We were interrupted once by an unusual occurence.
On the waterfront next to the biergarten is a youth theatre building, the foyer of which has floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors. I had noticed its neon red sign while I was searching for the group, but didn't pay much attention to it afterwards. Suddenly, we heard commotion from that direction and when we looked there we saw a man banging on the windows and shrieking as if trying to get in or express utter despair at something. Inside the building a woman jumped up from the desk and started actively gesticulating something to the man, pointing in some direction as if directing him to a door (or just away from her?). She might have been yelling too, but we couldn't hear anything because of the glass. The man seemed to ignore her and kept throwing himself at the glass as if he was actually trying to break it. We couldn't understand what he was saying and after at most five minutes he ran away, leaving us all perplexed as to what had happened. Personally, I suspect this might have just been a staged act, maybe even an audition. I mean, I'd take anyone for a play that was willing to put up a row like that in public and do it in a believable way.
After this brief interjection from a rowdy stranger, we continued our discussion, though I do not remember what it was about at that point. I walked home through the area called Paradies because some of the students at the table lived in the dorms Europahaus and Paradies (everything in the Paradies area is called 'Paradies': dorms, cafes; I find that confusing). As all my new acquaintances left me, I decided it was time for a second attempt at getting lost in Konstanz.
This time it was night and I was a bit more tired which should have made things harder. In addition, I had a beer to drink at the cafe. "This will be fun" - I thought to myself. But it wasn't. I knew pretty much the whole way where I was and aside from an immense desire to go to visit a bathroom (beer will do that to you) experienced no discomfort whatsoever during the journey. I came home at midnight, blissfully pilgrimaged to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and went to bed.
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