Men - the weaker sex?

I led another walk on Saturday: nine kilometres in Himmelgeist, through the nature reserve. A bit of rain halfway through, but nice (and very flat) countryside.

Ten people showed up: 9 women (including 3 Italians and 1 Russian) as well as one man. Yes, one single, solitary man.

Andreas said that his record was 44 women and just him, as the token man, just to prove that the group isn't sexist. This was on a walk with Lieselotte, who, at 81, is our oldest walking guide.

Even if a few men show up to a walk, it's rare that they make up more than 25% of all walkers. Heavens, one quarter of the walkers are normally foreign-born.

And if the weather looks a bit iffy, with the prospect of rain, then you really don't get many - if any - men.

The only conclusion one can draw is that men must be the weaker sex. They can't walk so much and are at risk of shrinking like some woollen pullover when it rains.

A nice thought

 I was just looking through some blank books that I have been given and bought.

In one book that I bought for a good cause, there is a little pocket in the back cover that contains a bookmark, and on that bookmark, the following message is printed:

"I am a reader, not because I don't have a life, but because I can have many."

That sums up very nicely why I like reading. I can travel through time and space just by poking my nose in a book. 

Right now, I'm having an adventure in the Grand Canyon whilst doing some crochet, thanks to David Baldacci. 

Freedom-loving Brits - or just morons?

Alexander Boris de Pfeffle Johnson (to give him his full name) said yesterday that the reason why the daily number of new infections in Germany was so much lower than in the UK was that the British were, in contrast, 'freedom-loving' so they couldn't be expected to follow rules.

Yes, it seems the British love their freedom so much that the few freedoms they had are now being taken away from them on account of their irresponsible - but freedom-loving - behaviour.

When I compare my life here in Germany to the lives of my parents and sister back in Wales, then I must say that life here is practically back to normal.

I can sit in the German library and university library and read. In all libraries, borrowing books etc. is back to normal. We can go to the cinema. ZAKK is putting on cultural events again. Even the local concert hall is back in business (with fewer seats obviously).

The shops are all open. People can get medical and dental treatment. We can travel freely round the country. Evening classes are up and running again. We can go to cafes and restaurants. Gyms are back to normal.

We may have some rules such as the so-called AHA rules (Abstand [distance], Hygiene and Alltagsmaske [everyday mask]) and registering your presence in, say, libraries, cinemas, cafes and restaurants, but the fact that most people stick to these rules and wear a mask when asked to do so (and often even when not required) means that....we keep these freedoms.

What can one conclude from all this? Basically, the more we stick to the rules in these strange times, the greater our freedoms are. Here in Germany, we really love and appreciate our freedom.

Giggle peas

I think one of the funniest words in the German language has to be 'giggle peas' or in German 'Kichererbsen'.

Sadly, the German word for 'chickpeas' has nothing to do with giggling (or 'kichern'), just as the English word has nothing to do with baby chickens.

The German and English word have the same root: "early 18th century (earlier as chiche-pease ): from late Middle English chiche (from Old French chiche, cice, from Latin cicer ‘chickpea’) + pease."

Basically, therefore, the word means 'pea pea'. 

Which is not half as funny as 'giggle pea'.

Now they tell me!

 I dropped into the English library on Saturday morning as I was also meeting someone there for a chat and a coffee afterwards.

The shelves are full of unread magazines, journals and papers and no readers are allowed to take them and sit on the sofas in the back room and read them.

I asked the staff on duty that morning when it was going to be possible to use the back room sofas and armchairs for reading. They were very concerned that the area would be hard to monitor.

"This is seriously affecting my quality of life," I whined. "All these journals and no-one to read them. You know that my Saturday mornings here are one of the high points of my week."

Then W. pipes up: "I thought you were allowed to read in the back room. You did it once, didn't you?"

"Yes," I replied. "But I thought that that was a special dispensation because I was supposed to be doing the children's story time hour that day."

"Ah, but I thought the special dispensation applied to you every Saturday," W. said.

Now they tell me!

Unfortunately, I won't be able to make use of this special dispensation for a month, what with a walking holiday, a public holiday and a walk and book sale planned during that time.

As soon as it is possible, though, I shall gather an armful of journals, magazines and newspapers and firmly ensconce myself into the corner of my favourite sofa for four hours. It'll be sheer bliss.

People's misconceptions of translators

 When I tell people that I translate on a freelance basis, I get comments such as the following:

1. "Translating? But machines do that these days, don't they?"

Well, yes, translators often use translation memory (TM) programs, but they come with no content inside. You upload the text, translate it and then you decide which words and sentences you want to store for future use. These programs are only useful with texts that are often repeated, such as contracts, data protection statements or privacy policies, instructions for use.

And as for online translation programs, well... They are still far from perfect and they cannot understand when the human author has made a mistake in spelling or grammar. *I* can often sense what an author is actually trying to say, but not a program. It translates what it sees. And if there is a pun, the poor online translator hasn't got a chance. 

Humans are still required.

2. "You work freelance? Oh, how lovely. You can work when you feel like it."

Um, no. I work when my customers work. I keep the same office hours as they do. My translation agencies start work at 9 and finish at around 5. I start work at 8 (to have an hour of peace and quiet to check work) and finish at around 5 (a bit earlier on two days a week to start evening classes on time). You don't get an enquiry from an agency and half a day or so to respond to it. 

3. "You work freelance? Oh, that's nice. You can go out during the day and do things, and then do bit of work in the evening."

Again, no. I can't be too far away from a computer, because I often translate texts within a couple of hours (or less) of receiving them, as one thing that a lot of managers can't do is manage time. This means I often get a text with a very short deadline. Mind you, I enjoy the challenge of a deadline.

4. "You translate? What kind of books do you translate?"

I haven't translated a book in ages. When I did, though, they weren't novels (unless you include a couple of Jerry Cotton books that were made into 'easy readers'). Books that I have translated include one on Nolte Kitchens and "90 Years of Braun", i.e. the history of companies.

Only about 12% of the novels read in the UK are translated books. 

5. "You translate only into English? But if you translate a letter into English, why doesn't the person at the other end ask you to translate the response into German?"

I do very, very little correspondence. That's what 'Fremdsprachenkorrespondentinnen' are for. Basically, in Germany, there used to be (don't know if there still are) courses that trained people to be bilingual secretaries and the like. I know - I used to help train them in private English classes.

And here is a great description of what one Guardian reader thinks it's like to work from home: 

Wake naturally after a good night's sleep
Take a walk, do some exercise, make a nice coffee, get ready for the morning
Go to your "desk" for the day, perhaps a cafe with a sea view, your spare room, or a coworking space
Knock out a couple of hours of concentrated work
Take a break, clear your head, have a proper lunch break
Wander back to your desk, finish up the rest of your tasks for the day (chances are due to less distractions you finish several hours early)
Meet with friends and family, be there for your kids, enjoy your free time, and get the proper rest you need

Some people have a great imagination but little grasp of reality (and grammar in this case). A civil servant I knew in Berlin also thought that I should have a lunch break every day. This from a woman who spent her whole working life filling in forms with a pencil - in a job she couldn't be fired from. 

People's misconceptions, eh?

A domino effect

 I reported earlier on the closure of most of the department stores in this town (although Karstadt has now got a three-year stay of execution - hurray!). What I didn't realise, though, was that it would also affect Carsch-Haus. That is also going to close - and with it the place where I go to eat my red Thai curry with tofu on Saturdays, when I spend the morning in the English Library.

I picked up some boxes of chocolate for my 'aunt' (Patentante) in Berlin and my aunt in Wales - both with birthdays this weekend - and was shocked to see that the place looked as though it had been raided. The woman at the till said they'd been told that they had until the end of the month to move out. And all the food outlets and shops would also have to go. They were only tenants there; they didn't own the property as they do with the flagship department store on the Kö.

Before class started, I rushed over to the Asian fast food restaurant I go to on Saturdays and asked the people there if they knew where they were going. "No idea," said the husband. "And we'd just spent money on this place." They had moved to this area of the basement about two years ago, spending money on more space and a new design and fittings. At least I now have a business card so that, if they leave with no notice, I can always ask where they are.

Ah, what a shame. In the past, there used to be a tram line that went from practically my front door right into the main station of the Altstadt. It was so convenient for getting to the English library and getting home after a night on the town. I had hopes that, when I was old and retired and could no longer toddle into town, I could take the tram there and I'd have my books, newspapers and red Thai curry with tofu all within easy reach.

Now the English library has to move out as the SPD mayor wants to sell the building to cover some of the debts he racked up getting the Tour de France to start from this town a few years ago. The tram line no longer goes through the Altstadt but a few hundred metres away. And now the other one of my favourite places to eat in is moving out. (Buon Giorno closed down at the end of 2018, when the building was sold for rebuilding.) 

If things carry on like this, then I won't be retiring as I am counting on getting a pension from the UK when I reach 67. Just like I was counting on the tram taking me to the club-like atmosphere of the English library and on enjoying my favourite lunch in retirement. 

Things do not bode well.

The more I do, the more I can do

 It's a strange thing, but with the lockdown, life became rather restricted and my options for going out and doing things likewise. I did and achieved less and less - basically only doing my work and a bit of reading. My thoughts were sluggish. 

Now that most of my six evening classes are up and running and I have started leading walks again (three are scheduled for this month), I feel more energised again. And I'm even sleeping better now that the days are drawing in. 

It seems the less I do, the less I can do. And vice versa. It's as though perpetual motion takes over.

Gruesome gardens and the downfall of bees

Some parts of Germany are going to bring in legislation to ban 'Gärten des Grauens' or 'gardens of horror', the gruesome garden of my heading. What are these things? They're the kind of 'garden' that are simply covered with large stones or chippings with no - or very, very few - plants sticking out of the sea of stones.

And why do some districts want to ban these gardens? Because the pollinators of the world - those insects, including bees, that go from plant to plant in search of nectar, getting covered with pollen in the process and then taking that pollen to other plants of the same species so that they can then reproduce and fruit... well, those pollinators, on whom we depend for our food, are already dying out and a garden full of stones and a dearth of plants does nothing to help or correct this situation.

And as every fool knows - if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem.

Here is a short article from The Daily Wail that illustrates what a world without pollinators would mean for our dining tables:

The stark reality of a world without bees: Thought-provoking images show what a pollinator-free picnic would look like - with no tomatoes or lettuce and no Pimms with strawberries and mint

• Shocking images show how bleak a meal without pollinators could look for Brits
• Rowse created thought-provoking pictures to highlight the importance of bees
• Without pollinators, Britons would not be able to get their summertime favourites - such as ice cream sundaes, strawberries and cream and cider

By LYDIA CATLING FOR MAILONLINE

PUBLISHED: 08:30 BST, 5 September 2020 | UPDATED: 08:54 BST, 5 September 2020

Shocking photos show the stark reality of a world without bees - and the bleak, colourless picnics we would experience.

It is difficult to imagine a summer where burgers lack lettuce, tomato, onion, relish and ketchup, or a glass of Pimms without a couple of strawberries and a sprig of mint. 

So, honey manufacturer Rowse has created a series of thought-provoking images, which depict a pollinator-free outdoor hamper, in a bid to highlight the important part bees play in the food we consume every day. 

Without the buzzing workforce, Brits would not be able to consume some of their favourite summertime food and drinks. 

Honey manufacturer Rowse has created thought-provoking images to highlight the effect a world without bees would have on Briton's much-loved picnic favourites. Pictured left, with bees, and right, without

Without bees, and other pollinators, people would be forced to eat bland and colourless food and forgo their summertime favourites - including - ice cream sundaes, strawberries and cream and cider - which all rely on bees. Pictured left, with bees, and right, without

Instead of picnic baskets filled with a rainbow of nourishing treats, we would be faced with the prospect of bland looking food, or worse, none of our must-have items. 

Gone would be the days we could enjoy freshly squeezed orange juice with our fruit salad or avocado breakfast, while the top three favourite British summertime foods and drinks - ice cream sundaes, strawberries with cream, and cider - would not exist.

Many people are unaware of the crucial role the miniature heroes play in our diets, with a staggering three-quarters of food crops reliant on pollinators. 

Well-pollinated plants produce larger, more uniformed and tastier fruit and vegetables. 

+1

Dinner plates would be beige and tasteless without pollinators, forcing Britons to serve up bread, mushrooms and potatoes alongside meat and fish. Pictured, stock image

In comparison, those with inadequate plant pollination can result in crops being misshapen or bland - or none at all. 

Things we would miss out on without bees 

• Fruit - including apples, strawberries, lemons, grapes, watermelon, avocado, tomato, oranges and limes 
• Vegetables - including broccoli, carrot and celery
• Herbs
• Tea and coffee
• Honey and jam
• 
  
• Even meat and dairy products benefit from bee pollination, as cattle often rely on insect pollinated plants, like clover.  

Without bees, plates would be beige and tasteless - dishing up bread, mushrooms and potatoes alongside meat or fish.  

Popular seasonal traditions would look completely different, with afternoon tea off the menu too. 

Bees pollinate tirelessly to help create our delicious plates of food every day.

For instance, a honey bee typically has a foraging radius of three miles —  venturing far away from home every day for work. 

They are so dedicated, it takes as many as 12 honey bees' entire lifetimes to produce just one teaspoon of honey.  

The number of British beehives has declined by nearly 75 per cent over the last century, and the UK is missing nearly 40 per cent of the beehives needed to future-proof honey sustainability..  

In order to protect the tireless workers, Rowse is recruiting a new generation of British bee farmers through its 'Bee a Bee Farmer' apprenticeship to create a more sustainable future for the creatures. 

And here's a brief list from the same article of what we would miss without bees and other small flying insects:

Things we would miss out on without bees 

• Fruit - including apples, strawberries, lemons, grapes, watermelon, avocado, tomato, oranges and limes 
• Vegetables - including broccoli, carrot and celery
• Herbs
• Tea and coffee

Say bye-bye to strawberries and cream, apple crumble, avocado on toast, orange juice and Buck's fizz, and elevenses as you now know it.

And here are some pictures of 'gruesome gardens'. 

https://www.google.com/search?q=g%C3%A4rten+des+grauens&safe=active&rlz=1C1WZPI_enDE457DE684&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjcq8OuoNLrAhUO-qQKHbhRDvsQ_AUoAXoECAsQAw

If your garden is like this, you're part of the problem. If you don't want to garden, get a flat with a balcony and let people who do want to garden garden. If you are privileged enough to have part of this planet under your control, you should be ashamed to even think about just covering it with stones. People who do things like this are probably the same kind of people who complain about foreigners coming to live in the country, saying "W'e're full. The country is already concreted over with buildings and roads." And yet.. they do this to the planet.

Shame on them.

Save an insect. Plant a flowering plant today.

It's great to be back in the classroom

 Two evenings ago, I found myself in a familiar place, one that I'd not seen since mid-March: a classroom at the VHS, the local adult education centre.

Five people had signed up in advance; two walked into the classroom, unregistered, on the evening. The full course can go now go ahead, without any cuts in the number of classes because the minimum number of participants, six, hadn't been achieved.

We have to wear face masks to move through the building; disinfectant and paper towels are available for cleaning your desk; and you are encouraged to keep the windows open to ensure plenty of fresh air, but once you're sitting at your desk, you can take your face masks off. Oh, and I have to fill in a plan of the seating arrangements. Everyone has to stick to the same desk for the rest of the term. If they do change, a new plan has to be completed.

These are all minor annoyances. Everyone who came back again was delighted to see each other. We all agreed that it was fantastic to be doing something normal again - something that was more than just sitting at home staring at one's own four walls all the time.

When will we get back to normal? To a life lived without fear?