German Joys

Get Pie-eyed the Paris Hilton Way!

Italians are not pleased that an Austrian company is using Paris Hilton to advertise Prosecco, the Italian white sparkling wine which Germans on limited budgets drink as a substitute for Champagne, which can only legally be called "Champagne" if it comes from the Champagne region of France (no slur implied, good prosecco is quite tasty):

Hotel heiress Paris Hilton dressed provocatively in a skimpy leopard print outfit and showing off her bare legs is not an image Italian winemakers feel is fitting for their Prosecco white sparkling wine.

Yet Hilton, in various high-heeled stages of undress, graces the ads of Rich Prosecco, an Austrian company selling the bubbly in 27 countries. What's worse, in the eyes of Prosecco producers, Rich Prosecco also comes in cans and in two fruit varieties.

"Hilton hotels are a sign of quality; Paris Hilton is not," said Fulvio Brunetta, president of the wine growers association of Treviso, the northern Italian city in the Veneto region where Prosecco is made.

Prosecco in cans?!  Heaven forfend!  To get more control over how Prosecco's marketed and made, Italian prosecco makers are turning to the tried-and-true European solution: registering "Prosecco" as an appellation controlee.  Doesn't seem to have helped the Greeks much, who trademarked 'feta cheese' in 2005 but are still fighting (what they consider to be) knockoffs.  By the way, getting camember or feta trademarked is a very, very big deal in Europe -- you make light of this at your peril.  When I was in Greece this summer, practically every container of Greek feta cheese was labeled "100% authentic official Greek feta cheese" or something like that.  And it was delicious, as was everything else I ate in Greece.

A Week's Groceries Around the World

From a series of photographs showing the weekly food shopping of families around the world, here's what the Melander family of Bargteheide, Germany eats in a week [h/t James R.]:

Three kinds of beer, plenty of mineral water, meat, and of course gallons of yogurt and fruit juice.  All of which is probably delicious: German consumers have high standards, so even ordinary groceries are usually quite tasty.  Follow the link to see other pictures from Japan, Ecuador, Mexico, Bhutan, the U.S., and Italy. 

From a cultural comparison perspective, the food's interesting, but so is whether any (or all) of the people in the photo are smiling.  Note to those unfamiliar with Germany: The Melanders are probably quite nice people, even though their facial expressions in this photo seem to range from sullen hostility to detached melancholy.  Germans are just like that.

Landliebe Cream Pudding is Ambrosia

Landliebe brand "Sahne Pudding mit feinem Kakao" (Cream Pudding with fine Cocoa): 

is the most delicious consumer product I have ever tasted.  Plus, it comes in an environmentally-friendly cardboard container.  Excited Germans join in the praise here, here and here (G).

Miraculous Self-Splitting Case of Beer

Ahh, glorious German beer. Bought most cheaply in crates of 18 to 24 bottles. The only problem is that these crates can be heavy and unwieldy, especially when they're full of beer.

If you dropped one on a small child, for instance, tragedy could strike -- you could lose several bottles, if not the entire case. Fortunately, German ingenuity has left its mark here. Behold the Paulaner 20-bottle crate (here, full of Kristallweizen):

When you liftt up the golden handles on either side of the top, something charming happens:

It splits safely into two halves, which are not only stable but easier to carry (in the above photo, I have returned the carry-handles to their "locked" position to make the separation mechanism clearer). The only problem is that for the uninitiated, like me, there is no warning this will happen. I picked up the handles of this case of beer at the store, and suddenly the bottom seemed to drop out of it. I quickly reached under the crate to stabilize it before I took a closer look, and saw that, indeed, the crate was designed to split apart in precisely this manner.

After that dawned on me, I was filled for admiration for the designer of this beer crate. Anyone happen to know who it is?

Japanese Toilet Sound Effect Questionnaire

I stopped visiting women's bathrooms at least a decade ago, after there were some misunderstandings and an incident. Let us draw a veil across these matters.

Now I only go into the women's bathroom so when some cafe owner decides to replace the good old traditional German letters (D for Damen; H for Herren) with something pretentious and confusing. This is, unfortunately, not rare. One bar in my town features a picture of a sun one one door, and a picture of a moon on the other. WTF? Unless you know German, you're not going to catch on that in German, "sun" is a feminine noun, and "moon" masculine. (No, there was no "neutral" bathroom, even though German has a "neutral" gender).

But now, there's a chance to go into the womens' bathroom without fear of misunderstandings or injunctions. A friend recently sent me a questionnaire distributed by a graduate student at the Kyushu School of Design. She wants to know -- well, I'll just quote the thing.

Questionnaire Survey on Attitudes
toward a Sound Masking Device for Toilet

In Japan, there is a unique sound effect device in many women's restrooms: a sound masking device for toilet. This device functions to produce the sound of flushing water without the need for actual flushing. To mask the sound of bodily functions, women tend to flush public toilets continuously while using them. As a result, they waste large amounts of water in the process. If a sound masking device is used instead of flushing the toilet several times, then a large amount of water can be saved. Therefore, this sound device was introduced to public toilets to preserve water.

Non-Bear Shaped Gummi Bears

Sex toys have been a topic on this blog before, albeit in the context of taxation. Now they're back: a trip to the store turns into a journey of erotic self-discovery when Harald Martenstein discovers (G) that his local department store now sells sex toys.

Special Offer

Harald Martenstein discovers an “erotic goods” section in the department store

I’m not really a lady. That’s why I rarely visit the ladies’ underwear department in the Karstadt department store. However, it came to pass one day that I got lost. I wanted to go to the CD section. Do not buy the so-called new Beatles CD Love, by the way, it’s horrible. I didn’t find the CD-section. Instead, I was suddenly standing before a gigantic, knobby dildo. The term dildo denotes a stylized recreation of the male reproductive organ. It is designed for leisure pursuits. There are ones with and without motors, just like with boats and two-wheelers. I explain the word because once, when I was a young man, I had to admit at a party that I didn’t know the word, and that was embarrassing. I actually thought “dildo” was that large, extinct Australian bird. It also wouldn’t be such a bad name, when you come to think of it. Dildo DiCaprio. Dildo Jetengine. Suddenly it came to be that if Ildikó von Kürthy tried to pep up a Franz Kafka novel with sex scenes, you would have something that would be about as patchy as the Love CD.

Amerikanische Burger-Verhaeltnisse

Visit the Waldgeist Restaurant in Hofheim, where you can eat "probably Hessen's largest schnitzel" or the XXXXL-burger pictured below, which seems to be inspiring shock and fear in the poor bastard who's been condemned to eat it ("uff!"). [Hat-tip SebSchu]

In Praise of Nasty Dutch Licorice

A few months ago, I visited the "Sugar Shop" in Heidelberg. In the storefront windows were elegantly-dressed, somehow perverted-looking mannequins. (see picture!)

After entering the store, I walked past some display copies of Nazis on Speed and made a very special request to the heavily-tattooed woman working behind the counter. She responded with a knowing wink, and turned around and delved deep into a drawer. She brought out something and gave it to me in a plain brown wrapper. She told a few curious children they couldn't have any of what I'd just bought. No, I hadn't bought an "erotic guide" featuring (G) Paul McCartney's wife. What I bought was more dangerous: Salzlakritz, or salt licorice.

This is a Northern European specialty I've never seen in the States. It's made with licorice, all right, but it's licorice mixed with big doses of salt and, sometimes, sage. These bitter additives multiply the normal tanginess of licorice exponentially. You pop a black, coin-shaped piece of Salzlakritz into your mouth and it's as if you've begun chewing on a mixture of brimstone and melted car tires. You begin salivating like a dog; not so much because it's so "delicious," but because your body wants to dilute the poison you've just stupidly begun to eat. After a few minutes, it feels as if someone's taken a pipe-cleaner to the inside of your sinuses.

Thus, it wasn't just be chance that the woman at the Zuckerladen called it richtig fieser Salzlakritz (really nasty salt licorice), and really, honestly wouldn't let the children try it. Why spoil their innocent childish dreams of sweet, harmless licorice coils with the tongue-thrashing XXX masochism of the real thing?

And somehow, it's delicious, and you want more. If you want more, visit this online shop. Not only can you order any sort of licorice you'd like in all shapes and sizes (from cats to houses to keys to crayons), you also get to delight in poetic product descriptions (slightly edited):

Soft salty Hindelooper diamonds,

pithy sweet Snekers

and real full sweet ship's knots.

Very exclusive!

Make your choice when

you check out (3 or 1/1/1).

Tips for World Cup Tourists

So you're thinking of coming to Germany for the World Cup? Fabulous! I'll probably be leaving for Rome. If you'd like advice on how to behave, here's an archive of tips written by foreign residents of Germany for you, courtesy of the Spiegel magazine.

But why rely on foreigners? Instead, I'd advise looking at page 36 of this month's Titanic, which contains valuable hints written by actual German Mark-Stefan Tietze. What follows is my slightly abridged, and very very loose, translation, of this important contribution to cultural understanding:

Don't even think about it!

As a World Cup tourist from some underdeveloped region of the world, you should know: not all Germans are Nazis, some of them just want to make a nice profit from you. Nonetheless: there are also tourist traps in Germany, and plenty of behaviors you're better off avoiding:

Blathering on pointlessly

In Germany, communication is always goal-oriented ("Out of my way!" "Show me your papers!" "Give me the money!").  Things that might count as charming banter in your culture ("May I help you cross the street?" "What glorious rainy weather!" "By the way, I come from Burundi") will be regarded in Germany as superficial blather and a waste of time.

Turning down invitations

If a German actually manages to invite you to his home to show you his own personal recycling system, you must never turn down the invitation. Otherwise, you'll make another enemy, and what it means to make enemies of Germans you can learn from any history book.

Speaking during meals

It is considered improper to speak during meals in Germany. According to old German custom, you should poke around the plate gloomily for a while, then suddenly choke it all down in one fell swoop. As soon as you see the German national dish, "Sludge with Goo and Meat," before you, you'll know why.

Conceal your fears

In Germany, culture, economy and cuisine are traditionally based on fear. Germans are accordingly proud of their fears and delight in spreading them. Currently, Germans are afraid about their pensions, dying-out as a nation, and being eliminated in the first round. Don't be afraid to talk about your own fears (floods, nuclear war, sauerkraut) -- but always admit that your hosts' fears are more important.

Inappropriate Appearance

An inappropriate appearance can injure religious feelings in Germany. Of course, nobody will complain if Catholic Brazilian girls visit churches in their traditional costume of sequined bikinis. However if you happen to be in East Germany, you should avoid provoking the natives by having an unusual skin color. The ancient Germanic gods that are worshiped in these areas strictly forbid it.

Remaining sober during the evening

During the day, Germans like to appear lifeless and stony. During the evening, however, they drink several liters of beer and then suddenly go out of their minds and begin screaming like banshees. You should absolutely join in! Anyone who doesn't will quickly get smacked in the chops. Of course if you join in, you'll also get smacked in the chops, but you won't notice it as much.

Forgetting to mention the war

Never forget to mention the war to Germans! Germans love to prove, in hours-long conversations, that they know a lot about the rather unfortunate parts of their history, and that they've learned important things from it. As a follow-up, they'll be happy to explain to you all the things that suck about your country, and which genocides you should feel responsible for.

I hope this helps apprehensive tourists.  Welcome to Germany, and don't forget to root for Togo if Germany gets eliminated!

Fear and Loathing and Pizza and Mayonnaise

I'm not the first to report that for Americans and Brits, European intellectuals take some getting used to.  Many of them seem to take themselves awfully bloody seriously.  Many Western Europeans, for example, believe the odd notion that a person cannot be simultaneously witty and profound. Because a lot of people have internalized this odd idea, plenty of Europeans who wish to be considered profound completely lose their sense of humor, if they ever had one.  This particular thought-virus seems to have buried most deeply into German society.  Have you ever heard Juergen Habermas, for all his achievements, tell a really funny joke?

Of course, many French intellectuals would have to be exempted, including, perhaps Jean-Claude Kauffmann.  Mr. Kaufmann recently wrote a book about, as he calls it, "an instrument to perform an existential rupture."  What is this instrument?  You're probably thinking something like an intercontinental ballistic missile, or a powerful dose of LSD, or a 20-day fast.  But you're wrong; it is, in fact...a cookbook. 

Kauffmann's characterization of the cookbook as an instrument for existential rupture is just one of the many deliciously dry witticisms he fires off in his recent book-length anaysis of France's changing eating habits.  He finds them in sore need of repair: Half of the French watch TV while eating; dinner-table conversation is a thing of the past, and more and more families are resorting to McDonald's).  For more, just click here: The French table: Theater of the absurd?