Portraiture

Apparently passport photos aren't kind to anyone.

However, our trip to the friendly neighborhood portrait photographer yesterday reminded me of another strange German phenomenon (we're on a roll, kids!): Hanging on the walls and in the windows of every little photo shop in Germany, amongst the normal baby, wedding and happy family portraits, there are always several massive, dramatically lit black and white prints of buck naked people. Sometimes you see faces, sometimes you don't. Sometimes the "special areas" are disguised, sometimes they're not. OK, usually they're not. Sometimes it's just a three foot wide poster of someone's butt or provocatively arched and greased up torso, man or woman.

It's not so much that these pictures are on such prominent display that I find strange — rather the fact that, apparently, people regularly pay money for naked pictures of themselves. What in the world does one do with a gigantic black and white, soft focus photo of one's own bosoms draped in a long strand of pearls? Hang it over the fireplace? Really? And when company comes, what are they supposed to say? "Ah! Are these the bosoms we've heard so much about? They're wonderful! You should be very proud. But of course you are. You have a massive print of them hanging in your living room."

Yeah, OK, so maybe you have a significant other who is particularly fond of your bosoms or can or what-have-you. And let's say this significant other happens to have a void of taste so dense that it swallows planets. I guess I could see getting a little something made up for him or her. I guess.

So, I suppose, for me, the most baffling naked pictures are the ones of couples together, entangled in some dramatic pose. What are you supposed to do with that? Send it out with the wedding invites? Hang it up so you can see how hot you are together every day? How in love with yourself does a person have to be to say, "Hey, Babe, you know what that blank wall in the entry way needs? A big naked picture of the two of us. Maybe on a bearskin rug."

Wait a second ... that is exactly what the blank wall in our entry way needs! Couples Brazilian bikini wax, here we come!



JEM

Further Quirks

This one is for M, who "love(s) posts on German quirks", according to her comment on my last post. Here are a few more I've been sitting on:

— Sane, ordinary people talk to themselves out loud in public all the time. They discuss which tram or bus route would be the quickest to their destination. They debate which brand of cotton balls to buy in the cosmetics aisle. And they muse aloud about advertisements. And, no, they're not just on hands-free cells. I check every time.

— I know this is contrary to the last one, but Germans, by and large, are incredibly quiet. When riding a crowded tram I often feel the need to whisper, that's how quiet they are. I forget how strange this is until we have guests from America who are shocked by the silence in crowded public places. I'm positive this will be one of the hardest things to leave behind when we return to the U.S.

— Males, but especially elderly men, often walk with their hands clasped behind their backs, which doesn't sound like a strange thing until you notice how many people are doing it in a crowded area and realize that doing so makes a person look very, very suspicious.

— Germans are FANTASTIC drivers. One of the greater thrills of my life has been riding on the Autobahn with a German behind the wheel. They drive so fast and so precisely that it's almost artistic. I usually spend the first part of the ride feeling like I'm going to die and eventually surrender myself to that and then am able to enjoy the real skill that goes into driving like that.

— East Germany has an inexplicable love affair with strange hairstyles. You see ultraviolet hair on housewives and attitude lines on every other male on public transit. People often don't believe me when I tell them how bizarre the hair is here. So here are a few photos I've compiled (you'll have to forgive the blurriness, I'm a bad spy):








Nothing defines East Germany for me more than this photo, concrete block housing and a grim-looking little old woman pulling her wheelie bag ...


... with hair the color of Care Bear fur.


Sometimes it works. I once saw a pretty young woman with what I can only describe as a sideways mullet — clipped really close to the head on one side and then blended longer and longer until the other side ended past her shoulder. She wore it so well, I briefly considered getting one myself. Ultimately the risk of it not working on me was too terrifying. I mean, really, where do you go from there?

There are certainly more (Germans are rife with deliciously subtle quirks) but I think I'll save them for another dark and dreary German day. However, if you want more, go here: germanyfromanamericanperspective.blogspot.com. It's full of juicy stuff from another American girl living in Dresden's sister-city, Leipzig. I recently met her IN REAL LIFE. It was awesome.



JEM

Clap Your Hands

Last October our ward had a party to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the completion of Dresden's beautiful LDS church building, which also serves as a stake center. Interesting fact: The Iron Curtain was still standing when it was built. Our church was only the second LDS church building constructed in East Germany. Anyway, I was asked to play two "American folk songs" at the party, which had a sort of international theme. So, please enjoy this video of an 8-months pregnant JEM playing a couple of old country songs.



You'll notice a fascinating cultural phenomenon at the end of the video. Rather than whoop and whistle the way Americans do when enjoying a musical performance, Germans are a chronic clap-in-time-to-the-music people. It's like an epidemic. If you don't believe me, watch the runway segments of the season 2 finale of Germany's Next Topmodel at the beginning and end of this video:





JEM

Happy Trails

Say what you will about ol' W, but I'm going to miss him.

**I apologize for the overlap in these videos. Unfortunately I couldn't find a single video with all my favorite moments.**









JEM

I've Always Thought He Had Nice Hair

It's scary enough to have your husband tell you that your hair "looks kind of like He-Man".

But it's an entirely different level of horror to look at your reflection in the window and realize that he's absolutely right.




JEM

Blessed

In the LDS Church, we don't baptize infants. We save that for the "age of accountability", which we believe to be 8. But we do perform a ritual for infants called, simply, the baby blessing, which is performed during Sunday services. It is performed by a priesthood-holder, usually the father or another relative of the baby. He takes the baby before the congregation and, with the aid of several other priesthood-holders who place their hands on the baby in the blesser's arms, pronounces a blessing on the baby. He gives the baby a name and blesses him or her with gifts and promises, following the spiritual promptings he receives.

Where we're from (the Mormon-heavy American West), the baby blessing is usually a pretty big affair. Relatives travel to be there and every priesthood-bearing uncle, cousin, brother, and friend in attendance stands in the circle to bless the baby. It's a nice metaphor, I guess, for the support system the child can expect going into life — being surrounded by all those strong arms and hands. But in our ward here in Dresden, which is the only LDS congregation in a city of about 500,000, baby blessings don't play out like that. The most men I've seen in a circle here is four or five, usually just the father, the grandfathers, and a member of the bishopric. I like this, as well. Compared with the spectacle American baby blessing can sometimes become, this version is very intimate and humble. I especially appreciate this tradition given our situation of being so far from our loved ones. I knew that the small blessing circle Jethro was bound to get here wouldn't look pitiable the way it would in the States.

Not a fan of the blessing tuxedo, apparently.

As it played out, though, the blessing wasn't as small as we'd anticipated. We managed to work it so that Jake could bless Jethro while my mom and our friends Ben and Missy were here, and Ben was able to stand in on the blessing, along with two members of our bishopric. Our guests also gave us a good excuse to have the blessing in English, which was probably sort of weird for most of the ward, but meant the world to me. Jake was more nervous than I'd ever seen him before the blessing, but it was beautiful. Among other things, Jake blessed Jethro with sharpened senses, heightened perception, discernment between good and evil, influence over others and a keen intellect balanced by a compassionate heart.

These things have been floating in the back of my mind ever since the blessing. I get so busy cleaning up after, soothing and playing with this little guy, I sometimes find myself thinking of him almost as a pet. I forget that he's an actual, distinct, brand new person. This baby (still making sense of his small body) will eventually grow into a man who will go into the world and do great things. It makes me feel like I'm holding a fantastic secret, that, for the time being, is all mine to enjoy.




JEM

Christmas '08

And now behold, two weeks after the fact — the Christmas post.

My mom wasn't our only guest over Christmas. We also took in our good friends Missy and Ben, who are currently living in Finland. For more on their roadtrip through the BALTICS (not the Balkans, as I had previously posted here ... oops) to get to our doorstep, go here.

We spent the week of Christmas napping ...


obliterating one another with rocket launchers ...

Please don't call DCFS.

planting the seeds of diabetes American-style ...


enjoying one another's company ...

and reveling in our Christmas booty.

Jethro and his new La-Z-Boy.

Hope everyone else had as much fun.



JEM