All In A Saturday's Work...

Make. Make. Make.

Talk. Talk. Talk.

Sell. Sell. Sell.

Shop. Shop. Shop.

The Holidays can be so predictable. Luckily, they are only once a year. I miss them when they are not around. I try to take full advantage of them when they arrive. The best way to do this is with an early start. (Man, this sounds like a bad pitch for Black Friday...or Cyber Monday...)

I'm not changing the subject here, but it is going to sound like I am......

What do police, riots, and soccer rivalries have in common with an artist's market? Nothing. Why do I ask? Because not only was today my first German bazaar in Fürth, but it was also the day (long time) soccer rivals Fürth and Nürnberg went toe-to-toe. As luck would have it; there is a violent history there, and the streets of Fürth were barricaded just in time for our market to open. The buzz around the bazaar was that the soccer game, or the avoidance of the soccer crowd, was going to influence attendance at the artist's market, severely.

The bazaar was in the Volkshochschule in Fürth. A Volkshochschule is a building of continuing education. Adults go there and take classes on anything from language, to cooking, to yoga. This school plays an active role in its city's community. So it would only make sense for the school to host a bazaar during the Christmas shopping season. Normally the event is well sought, and has many shoppers. In the past the vendors have benefited greatly. Today I think it was a bit different.

For me it was obviously a victory, as it has been a priority of mine to sell in a German bazaar. (It ranks up there with while we live in Germany I want to ski in the Alps, see Paris, and shop in Italy) I did it. It happened much sooner than I thought it was going to. The whole scenario was pretty normal; despite what I was anticipating. I had no trouble finding the venue; thanks to the GPS. Parking was annoying because it was in the city, but that is to be expected. I am happy it was as close as it was. I only had to schlep my merchandise two blocks. Many of the other vendors were chatty. This was great for getting more (culturally) familiar with my peers. I sold a handful of scarves too; not many, but a few. Could this have been better? Yes. I think my sales would have benefited from a better knowledge of the language. As you know, Katharina came with me, and she seems to differ in this opinion. She seems to think many Germans do not want to be engaged in conversation. They just want to look, and if they have a question they will ask. Maybe Americans like to shop more, and want to be convinced of their purchase. (or wooed) Whatever the case, I believe it was a great start to a relationship between me and the German handmade consumer.

My knowledge of the language got me farther than I thought it would. I spoke to almost everyone that stopped by the table. If I got confused Katharina was there to back me up. Do Germans love Florida? Yes. Have they been to Florida? Yes. Do they make the same joke that Americans do...that Florida is too warm for scarves? Yes. Do they, despite that fact think that my work is lovely, and fun, and colorful, and unique, and awesome anyway? Yes. I think my little scarf business is still in good company here in Deutschland.

I received two other invitations to participate in more handmade markets. I think I will refrain from anymore last-minute sales opportunities. I would love to get more settled in the culture, and more acquainted with the language, and then “sell my socks off.” (as my father in law would say)

Actually, now that I mention it. I did sell my hoodie off today. That hasn't happened in a while, but it is quite customary for someone to like what I am wearing so much, that they ask to buy it off my neck. I am always surprised, but I always say yes. So anyone that was familiar with my current hoodie (the blue one lined with the bright floral print, with sweater on one side and a fake flower brooch) It's gone, but not lost. It is owned by a lovely vendor from the bazaar who made very cute items herself (including little knitted rings with shiny buttons for gems.) Her work was pretty adorable. I hope I see her again at another market.

If anyone in this area is interested, there is something called the Oscar Selbstgemacht. Oscar Selbstgemacht is (obviously) a character that makes all of his wares himself, by hand. This character heads up a one-day, indoor, artist market that tours a couple of cities. It will be in Fürth on 12/8 and in Nurmberg in the Hauptbahnhof 12/15 and 12/16. You can find information at www.oscar-selbstgemacht.blogspot.com

The flyer is featured above.

Lots of people today were talking about www.dawanda.de. It is a place, on the German Internet for small businesses to set up shop. I don't know if my German is ready for this. But my point was to pass the info along to you, my German-American community, in the event you would like to check it out.

I continue to ramble on, about Germany, here.

Bali: The Adventure of Imitation

There's a Starbuck's in Ubud, but we didn't go. We went to the Kafe instead. They claim to have true espresso. I'll never know what that actually means. I think something just got lost in the translation. True Espresso must be an Indonenglish word. It's surprising to me how many Balinesians actually speak great English; and none of them claim to have learned it in school. Is my language really that simple to learn? Why is it the only one I know?

I'm having a beet-ginger-carrot juice and we are watching a dog fight in the street. We followed the juice up with another round of coffee. We're slow this morning. Last night we went to a restaurant called Casa Luna. I think there are three or four restaurants in Bali called Casa Luna, but we went to the one with bad martinis, no spare ribs, and over cooked chicken. It was the first dinner Phil did not enjoy. Ironically, this was a restaurant that chose to handout comment cards at the end of dinner. Phil wrote down his honest opinion. As if that was not a bold enough maneuver; our waitress returned volley by taking the comment card and reading it in front of us. I expected her to say something about it, in defense, but she didn't. She just walked away with the card and showed it to all the other employees that walked by. Despite the fact that we watched everyone read our critical comment card, then stare at us, we were unable to discern any emotional reaction. Did they care? They must have. When the waitress brought our bill we looked it over. Something about the math didn't make sense. There were two charges on the bill that were for things we didn't eat. We had the mistake corrected and left. Was that one last attempt to screw with us? Chuckling to ourselves about how uncomfortable the whole situation was; on the way out we thanked them for nothing.

That night Phil and I combed the streets of Ubud. I was talking on and on about how this trip was inspiring me to write my own guide book. I was listing all the things I would have loved to have known about Bali before I came; stuff that you'd not find in a typical guide book. I want a guide book that would entice me to travel, yet not send my expectations soaring. I wanna know if something might be dirty. I wanna know if a museum is going to be dark, dusty, and cheap. I'm still gonna go, obviously, I picked up the guide book. Actually, this is probably not something anyone would pay money for. If it were free however, like a blog online, then many people would read it.

Phil thought a movie would be better than a book. We had each other in stitches over our imaginations. We laughed our throats dry and had to stop for a drink. Luckily we found a cozy little joint with 5 for 1 shots. Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you ever heard? Of course not, we're in Bali. I couldn't tell you the name of the bar or what street it was on. At this point it wouldn't matter anyway. There are three to four other establishments with the same name and the street has a few nicknames too. I do remember however, that the band was awesome!!!!! I've got to try to paint you this picture. I hope I'm up for the task. They were (seriously, no lie) an Indonesian Guns and Roses, or Aerosmith. They were all incredibly skinny, wearing tight ripped jeans, some wore vests instead of shirts, and they all had stringy long hair that hung in their face. All but one actually; the guitarist had hair like Slash. It may have been a wig; Asians don't have curly hair. Two of the band members sang, but the one that sang (screamed) the loudest looked too much like a young (male) version of Yoko Ono. No kidding. They were such a spectacle. This band was one of the most intriguing things I saw the entire time in Bali. The songs they covered totally rocked. They had the sounds perfect.

This perfection actually got me thinking. They were the best cover band I have ever heard. How were they so good at imitation? Maybe it's part of their society. Similar to this music situation; I also found the Balinesian recreations of Western food to be spot on. They brew a great beer, but it's not traditionally their thing. And, unfortunately, every other shop on the strip was carrying bootleg goods; purses, sneakers, DVD's, paintings. Why not live music too? Damn it they're good.

Of course we stayed the night, to see the band. Between sets Phil tried to talk to the band. They sang in English so clearly, of course they'd be able to speak it. Nope. He complimented them, but received only a smidgen of an answer. He asked, “So man, what's your favorite band?” Literally the guy had no answer. Phil was definitely disappointed, but he didn't let it ruin his evening. There's not much that could spoil an evening of 5 for 1 rainbow colored shots.

That was our last night in Ubud. This is our last day at Hotel Puri Garden. Our driver from yesterday, Dewa, told us that it is the hotel owned by the current King's family. Is that why I feel like royalty every time I stare out the window at the serene rice paddies and scarecrows blowing in the breeze?

After breakfast we went to the infamous Ubud markets. The market is basically two-in-one. On one side you have the traditional market with food, snacks, home décor, and supplies. It's mostly for the people that actually live there. On the other side is every tchotchky and souvenir you can dream up, priced just right for tourists. As a tourist, you are welcome to go anywhere in the market you like. It is two stories tall, and absolutely overflowing. You want to purchase something just to make a dent in the merchandise. Haggling is the only sales technique practised in the market. The salespeople will, literally, give you an asking price of ten times the object's value. If you take it, no one has fun. You gotta ping-pong the price back and forth so you both feel you've accomplished something. This was the first time I actually witnessed Phil enjoying shopping. He had an absolute blast haggling and making friends. We laughed our way into being the proud new owners of fabric, bracelets, key chains, penis-shaped bottle openers, and puppets. It's all purchased at a very reasonable price; The Good Luck Price we say. At one of the stands we were the vendor's first sale of the day. He proceeded to touch all of the rest of his merchandise with our money. This was done to bless it with the same good fortune of the bracelet we bought. Totally awesome; I hope to remember to use this same practice at my next bazaar.

We had a late lunch that day, with some early cocktails. They were delicious; the cocktails. They had fresh fruits and vegetables in them along with liquor. My drink was fresh ginger, basil, cucumber and rum. I could have drank those beverages all day, but I refrained. The service in Balinese restaurants cracks me up. It is hilariously slow. You have to wait a long time for everything; and this restaurant was a shining example. Two hours after sitting down, after only one round of drinks I asked for the check. The waitress replied, “Not yet. In a little while.” Why does she get to decide when I pay and leave.? If she had told me that I needed to have another drink I may not have been too surprised. Oh well, it's all good when you're on vacation.