Author: Christopher-Dorset

I am now witnessing my first Minnesota storm. In the past 24 hours over a foot of snow has fallen and the wind has been terribly assertive in making its presence felt. While not yet utterly cold, that will be tonight when the temperature is set to fall to -24 C, I can now make a few observations about the weather and how it is dealt with.

The snow is nothing new to me. It snows in Germany, it snows in eastern California. The wind is notable but I have seen a number of gales in my life, nothing unusual in that. What is striking is how poorly the weather is handled. One would think that Minnesotans, infamous for living through some of the worst weather in the developed world, would have some sense in ploughing streets and pavement. None. None at all. The roads are covered with snow and the ploughs simply drive around doing nothing. In California that has never been the case, is not the case. The ploughs operate at all times during a snow storm keeping the roads clear and well-sanded.

My observations have been based on my walk to grocer’s and back, a total of just over two miles. A pleasant stroll in pleasant weather, a journey of slips and falls with a dozen eggs to think of as it is today. Naturally I have concluded that I will remain for the rest of the day in my warm flat drinking tea, looking at the snow fall through my windows, and being somewhat less than enthusiastic. A bit of good news is that I will be on a flight next week to Sacramento for Christmas before heading off to Germany and the UK.

Looking out over my balcony the snow that fell Thursday has turned into a block of ice. Cars that were not moved have been frozen in place, the neighbours resorting to salt to get their vehicles out. With any luck they can open their doors. Most have icicles hanging all around. It was cold yesterday that when I opened my door to step out on my balcony I didn’t even bother to complete the task — I promptly shut the door and sat by the fireplace and drank another coffee. Sometimes it’s not even worth trying…

That considered, I do have hope for a life in a place with better weather. I have received job leads for permanent positions in New South Wales. Should I receive a formal offer upon completion of my MA programme I will be on the next flight to Sydney.

I hate to be a bother, but I’ve recently been in contact with an old acquaintance’s sister who tutors autistic children. She is having difficulty in finding resources. Would it be too great a trouble if I put her into contact with you? Thank you.

On Thursday, as I was sitting in my little office at university, I was summoned by a professor to her office. Although I am yet to have had a course with her, we have worked together on the preliminary stages of my master’s thesis. The purpose of the summons, other than to inform me that she may be in need of my assistance on Monday, was to let me know that she will recommend me for a fellowship at one of Korea’s top universities at my leisure. Both she and my boss/supervising professor have expressed disappointment in my choice of universities. While accepting that it was the best option at the time, they have both given me warning that they will under no circumstances allow me an easy go of it. They are both determined that I will produce a work of doctoral standards. The reason why I am mentioning this is not to be a prat, but to solicit edified and erudite opinions from my academic and intellectual betters on this site on this matter.

I recently read reviews about a small tea firm in Mie Prefecture, Japan. For the most part reviews were highly favourable, though a few buyers were rather bitter that their experiences did not match their expectations. On one occasion the buyer attacked the product as tasting “cheap and not good”. The product, in this case, being a 1 pound, 1 ounce bag of gyokuro that sold for £27.00 in proper currency. Gyokuro, for those not overly familiar with Japanese teas, is a shade-grown green tea that is among the more dear. Because it is processed somewhat differently than a typical sencha, a more potent tea, brewing recommendations are somewhat different. To obtain the same strength as an average sencha, twice the amount is needed. If one does not take into account the differences, it seems readily apparent that there will be unavoidable disappointment.
Furthermore, if an average lapsang souchong runs £8.00 for just over an ounce and a tolerable Darjeeling goes for £2.00 per ounce then it should be clear that 17 ounces of a higher-tier tea for £27.00 is rather on the low end. After all, a ceremony-grade matcha costs approximately £15.00 per ounce and the inferior cooking-grade costs a mere £9.00 per ounce.

In case anyone is wondering why I am prattling on about the price of tea and the occasional idiot whingeing about not buying gold for the price of lead I will try to make my point now. The whinger was a septic; probably someone who has the pretension of being a connoisseur. I by no means suffer from this delusion, although I humbly claim to be able to note the difference between Lipton’s at a cheap American restaurant and tea at Claridge’s.

Today was another beautiful day in central Minnesota. It’s been three weeks since I moved here. In those three weeks I’ve generally got over missing California and do not miss San Francisco in the least. From my kitchen I can watch the sunset; something I often do. It’s also nice having a balcony. The view isn’t overly memorable. A car park, trees, bushes, two roads, etc. Yet the light is beautiful. In the afternoons my flat is bright, so bright that I almost have to draw the curtains.

My life has established itself into a pleasant, predictable order. I have a work schedule, a course schedule, and a study schedule. In between the three I have enough time to do something, be it listen to music, go through the St Cloud city centre, or simply go to grocer’s to buy a few things. The music, as some of you may know, isn’t to everyone’s liking. But, considering that no mob has yet lynched me, it obviously isn’t too atrocious.
The city centre is modest but pleasant. The majority of buildings date to the mid-to-late nineteenth century. Stone and brick constructions, they’ve held up against the elements well. The stores are nothing too impressive, but they’re not helpless, either. The one music store has a fair selection of things, but one that requires eBay or Amazon to complement it. The restaurants are passable. I would not say that any are especially notable, but most are not the stuff of nightmares, either.

The most remarkable things about life in Minnesota are the Mississippi River and the people. The Mississippi is really an unremarkable thing. Despite its profound length, it does not make itself known to be anything other than an average river. Still, there is something to do — there is this draw, this sense that one has seen something worth seeing.
The people have been the most pleasant. The accent is not as pronounced as one might suppose. Central and Metropolitan Minnesota do not have strong accents. The northern woods and the rural west are said to have a more pronounced Nordic inflexion, though.
The people in general have been very pleasant. While notoriously passive-aggressive, they have seemed content to treat me with respect and kindness while leaving me in peace. It’s simply now a matter of getting used to not being at war with those around me, not having to fight for every last inch. Things come together more easily here, life is more humane.

I get on with my boss well and he’s made my life much easier. He is also my main mentor for my graduate thesis — increasingly a work on Neo-Confucianism in Korea and Japan. I’ve been fortunate to have found a second professor who is eager to actively assist me both find resources, review the quality of resources, and tell me if my work is absolute and utter rubbish. Isn’t it better to learn that from a friendly source before going to the university directors for less sympathetic scrutiny?

In order to avoid having to rush about without the benefit of a car in Minnesota to make my now empty, in the process of undergoing proper cleaning flat ready for my imminent inhabitation, I arranged with the highly co-operative property management to have most of what I would need shipped to my new address. Everything from a Keurig coffee maker with the special reusable home-brew capsule to a rack for drying clothes was ordered. Then the credit card company struck…

As I’ve had to spend a fair amount of money preparing for my move, and as my credit card has a relatively low limit, I’ve been in the habit of paying for purchases within a few days of making them. Having long thought it good sense it never occurred to me that any sort of problems would arise because of this. Yet problems did arise. My account will now be frozen for the better part of a month. The reason, if it can be considered a reason at all, is that I simply paid too much money. Not only is there a limit of how much I can put on the sodding thing, there is a limit to how much I can pay. As I well exceeded the payment limit, I have a mark of “possible fraud” on my bank record now. While it does not get reported, it does mean that I can’t use the card — even though everyone from the local bank credit card agent to the director of the credit card department at the main bank find the charge absurd to the nth degree, considering my long history of  financial integrity.

The first week of August has come to its conclusion. The flight has been booked for some time. A flat has been secured, courses secured, a small job secured, books ordered. In short,
Everything seemed to be fitting together nicely. The entire process of moving to Minnesota has gone so pleasantly, in fact, that I was able to worry about tea cups, coffee makers, and even arrange for such minor necessities of life such as tooth paste, razors, and a drying rack for dishes to be delivered in advance of my arrival in order to avoid any difficulties or stresses.

Things went so well, in fact, that I did not make sure to review all my paperwork. Oh, paperwork I’ve reviewed
in large quantities. Forms I’ve filled out aplenty. Long, dull, soul-sapping heaps of legal documents have been filled in and completed, turned in well before the due date. Then something came to my attention today…
My financial documents for the next year, while turned in early, missed one minor detail… Namely, I seem to have failed to tick a button. Now this does not seem to be a matter of grave concern. It’s several weeks yet before the term starts, the university has noted that I completed the forms and has not yet cancelled my course registration. But the deadline was last Friday and only this evening did I notice that something was amiss. I ticked the button and filled out a minor form, something which I will either fax or send via express mail in the morrow.

It’s not in English, I know, I know, but I quite like the singer and the song.

Germany the odious. Germany the wealthy leper. The country that is shunned and ridiculed but has the money, the means to support the community. At least that’s what some people think. The way the German government has handled the current euro crisis certainly isn’t helpful, nor is the portrayal of countries such as Spain and Portugal in the German media remotely accurate or correct. Spain is as much a victim of the euro as Germany is a winner. Not that Germany actually wanted it, it was ultimately another one of France’s hare-brained schemes that they have subtly managed to avoid taking blame for. (How, but how, do the French always manage to cause so many problems and escape the blame so consistently? For that matter the Italians as well) Portugal is as much a victim as Spain, but more quiet, smaller, somewhere floating on the edge of the continent.

Where does that leave us? Continue reading “Germany the Odious.”