Wonderful Cable or: Why do we have to dub everything in Germany?

I have always loved TV. Already as a small child I used to watch Disney Cartoons (preferably Donald Duck) with my Dad, and who thinks saying that 1-and-a-half-year-old Anna really wanted to watch it was just my Dad's excuse to watch his favourite TV shows is wrong: Colors and moving pictures attract me. I adore movies, I would like to go to the cinema at least once a week (if there were enough good movies showing here... Brazil only shows blockbusters) and I like to watch TV series on a lazy afternoon as long as its not too hard to follow them without seeing every episode. Here in Brazil its easy and so much fun, as Cable TV is not only affordable but movies and series are shown in the original with subtitles and there is really a channel for everyone, so WB Channel shows all his series, Universal all it's own, and so does Sony. You can choose whatever you like according to your humor or likings without depending on the stations to chose for you what is worth to be dubbed and what isn't. They are funnier this way, and way easier on the eye and ear.

In Germany on the other hand, a lazy sunday on the couch with the TV on is hell(since I am not that much interested in Disney and other kids series anymore). First of all, many many good series and shows just never make it onto German Television (Dexter, Big Bang Theory, 30 Rock, Saturday Night Live, Jimmy Fallon, Conan, etc.) and the few good ones that are dubbed to death (Friends for example: the mouth movements never fit, all voices are annoying as Janice's, the jokes are badly translated or completely lost,...) or show (still badly, yet not as horrendously dubbed) at stupid hours (Seinfeld, Prisonbreak, ...)

But really, what annoys me most of all is the dubbing. A TV show loses so much of its momentum and fun by dubbing it. The price for the dubbing is pretty high, so for series that might not make it to the top as they aren't understood by everyone's humor (Big Bang Theory) it is apparently not worth it so they aren't showing at all. It also takes a lot of time. While House runs in the 2nd next season in the USA, they restart from the beginning in Germany to bridge the gap until the next season is translated and recorded. Same for movies, by the way.

I mean, we live in a globalized world. English is absolutely mandatory for everyone in the working world and I would say that for people younger than 50 the series in English would not be a problem as our school English is good enough to actually listen and the few lost jokes would get lost in translation anyways. Reading along the subtitles would be totally fine to know exactly whats going on, and lets face it: listening and reading the translation does help one's English a lot and is thus only helpful (best example: the Netherlands never dub, and thanks to good school english like the German's it gives them a little extra in terms of vocabulary and accent). For the people that do not speak english, subtitles would still be okay I think, as I can see here in Brazil that even people that do not speak a word of english get along well with subtitles. They have no learning effect, sadly, but still the movies and series are understood, as much fun, and out at the same time as in the USA.

Seriously, we should stop dubbing and stop importing only the mass-compatible crap. Really.

And here the promised hint for someone: "No, I don't want you to buy me journey... I circle journey! It's a metaphor, Daddy!"

On my way back...

In two hours I will start my wonderful annoying 26-h
our trip back to Goiânia. To get a little back into the Samba Feeling, here a nice clip from Vanessa Da Mata and Ben Harper. =)

Clipe VMB 2008|MTV from Paraphernalia on Vimeo.

Recap: Holidays at Home

So that was nearly it. My first real holidays at home. By saying this I do not mean staying at home over the holidays, or visiting my parents just for a weekend. No, this time I really spend a 2-and-1/2-week holiday in Germany to visit everyone and to get all pampered and celebrated by friends and family after living in Brazil for now more than 7 months.

So how was it? Holidays at home? First of all, it is weird to use the word home. Even though in many languages, such as the German or Brazilian language, we make a difference in words for the home where we live and the home where our heart, our soul, our history lies, I do not find specific words for that in English. Maybe I could ask Lucky, or Amber, or best maybe Kristen who studies that kind of stuff. But really, I think the fact that in English, which is the language I use more and especially more regularily than German by now, I can call 5 or maybe even 6 places home makes moving in between them a lot easier. The word home gives a warm feeling, a sense of "I am going where I belong".

My parents house, Leverkusen, where I spent these Christmas Holidays is more than home and those holidays were really awesome. My parents house is not "where I belong". Not anymore. But it is the place where I can always go, the place that always will be there, and the place where I can hide when things go rough.

These holidays were passing really fast and everyday there was something I needed to do. Somewhere to party. Friends to visit. Family to see. I probably saw more of my friends and family, I partied more and I was out more than any other random two weeks I have spend in Germany ever in my life and I had a blast.

I arrived on Saturday night, delayed, in Cologne, and already my parents, my sister and my closest friends were waiting for me at the trainstation and took me right away to a nice, typically colonian bar at the Rhine river. Later on I moved on to my friends Christmas Party and in the end I had managed to travel 27 hours, party another 8 hours and then finally sleep for 12.
The next days I had fun in the snow, enjoyed the lovely cold, picked up my grandfather at his place (280km south of here), had coffee with the family, enjoyed Christmas Eve, met with my aunt, uncle and cousins, saw a Rock Concert (Die Toten Hosen), went to my friends birthday party and was surprised how easy and unproblematic it was despite my ex being there, I played what felt like 100 games of Scrabble with my family (and a dictionary), I drove 230km to my best friends house, saw a Ska-Concert (The Busters), drove another 360km spent a wonderful, snowy New Years Eve with a bunch of really great (new) people in Berlin, had a nice walk on the river Spree, went back to my best friends house and talked all night, drove then back home to my parents, met with a kindergarten friend, went for dinner in Cologne with my parents and my sister, stopped on the way back at Lucky and Toni's place, happened to spend the night there because of the snow, back to my parents the next day with the train and one hour walking as there are no buses on sundays (what a tiny poor little village!), I had Cheese Fondue for the second time and well, now its already monday and I leave this house in 24 hours.

The time passed fast, and it was stuffed with fun. But it won't be long before I am back, as I think it is reasonable to at least show up at home for a couple of days every half a year, and Hurricane Festival in June is just the right spot to mingle with all my friends.

That being said, it also fits into my Resolution for 2010: Travel. Travel. Travel.
First travel for this year: Back home to Goiânia, Brasil.

Ein Post für Lucky und Björn

Nein, nein, natürlich ist dieser Post nicht nur für Lucky und Björn, ich bin ja froh über jeden meiner dreieinhalb regelmäßigen Leser. Aber Lucky ist mit Abstand die Hartnäckigste wenn es darum geht mich ans Schreiben zu erinnern und Björn hat gestern den süßesten Kommentar überhaupt gebracht... und ausserdem regnets und nachdem ich ja in Brasilien behauptet habe das brasilianische Fernsehprogramm wäre schlimmer als alles bisher dagewesene habe ich jetzt doch wieder meine Meinung geändert und behaupte das Deutsche Fernsehen wäre noch schlimmer.
Was also machen? Schreiben. Damit ich jetzt nicht wieder ganz von vorne anfangen muss hier mal ein Sommer Highlight vom Dezember.

Die Büro-Weihnachtsfeier
Auch in Brasilien wird Weihnachten gefeiert, ist ja klar. Auf den ersten Blick zu erkennen war dies für mich in der Adventszeit in Brasilien aber nicht. Sicher, ich hatte die kitschige Deko überdimensionaler Plastikweihnachtsmänner die den ganzen Tag E-Gitarre spielen oder Doughnuts essen in den Shoppingcenters bemerkt, auch die falschen Weihnachtsbäume die mit glitzerndem Obst bestückt sind habe ich gesehen. Aber schon allein die Tatsache dass es draußen 38°C hat und ich mit einem Eis, in Shorts und Flips-Flops daran vorbei laufe liess alles nur noch kitschiger und so falsch aussehen, dass man glauben könnte der Innenausstatter der Galeria Kaufhof hätte sich einen Scherz erlaubt um das Sommerloch zu füllen.
Als ich mich einmal dazu hinreissen liess, zu sagen für mich wäre das doch alles sehr unweihnachtlich, denn bei dieser Hitze würder der Weihnachtsmann in seinem Mantel ja sofort einen Herzinfarkt bekommen und die armen Schneemänner ausserhalb des Gefrierfachs nicht überleben, da bekam ich strafende Blicke zu spüren denn immerhin sei jawohl Weihnachten und das wäre ohne ohne "Papai Noel" jawohl nichts und die Schneemänner und Tannenbäume seien ja eh nicht echt. "Eben." war meine Antwort dazu. Das war dann aber auch wieder nicht richtig denn ich wurde belehrt dass man Weihnachten die Geburt Jesu' feiert und damit hätte jawohl der Baum garnix zu tun, wo das herkäme wüsste eh keiner, denn in Brasilien gibts ja nichtmal Tannen und bei Weihnachten muss es warm sein. Punkt. Aus. Keine Disskussion. Nao tem jeito.

Ich erwartete also ähnliche Deko für die Büroweihnachtsfeier, wurde aber enttäuscht. Es gab bunte Luftballons, einen elektrischen Rodeo-Stier im Luftkissen zum drauf reiten, ein Trampolin für die Kinder; und ja, tatsächlich, ich sollte zum vierten Mal der selben Sertanejo Band zuhören. Kellington e Anderson. Ich glaube es gibt keine andere Band die ich 4 mal in nur 6 Monaten gesehen habe, schon gar keine die ich nicht besonders leiden kann (ich empfehle hierzu den letzten Blogpost). Natürlich gab es auch Fleisch vom Grill und Bier. Was sonst?!
Vor dem Essen aber wurde gewichtelt. Wir hatten im Büro alle Namen gezogen und während man bei uns schonmal raten soll von wem es kommt, müssen in Brasilien alle raten wer gezogen wurde. Dazu erzählt der Schenkende eine kleine Geschichte oder stellt Fragen, bis es raus ist.
Mein Chef war irgendwann dran und fragte: "Wer ist denn hier blond?" Einige Hände schnellten in die Höhe, ich schaute mich um... Tatsache, waren einige blond, das würde noch etwas dauern. "Nein, wer ist denn richtig blond. Von Natur aus?" Nur zwei Hände blieben oben, aber beide hatten schon ein Geschenk in der Hand. Das kann ja nicht sein. "Wer ist echt blond und hat noch kein Geschenk?" Keiner meldet sich. "Wer ist blond und hat blaue Augen?" Keiner meldet sich. "Mensch Leute, wer im Büro hat denn blaue Augen!?!" ANNA! Achja, ich. Oh. Blond?! Ich nahm mein Geschenk entgegen und entschuldigte mich erstmal mit den Worten, dass mich in Deutschland sicher niemand als blond bezeichnen würde... Mein Chef schenkte mir Noten für traditionelle brasilianische Musik (Samba, das Mädchen von Ipanema, etc.). Ich fand das eine sehr schöne Idee.
Einige Zeit später mussten dann die Kinder auf dem Rodeo Stier platzmachen. Der Chef wollte aufsteigen. Danach alle Männer. Wer nicht wollte wurde dann doch vom Chef überzeugt (ich möchte nicht wissen wie). Sie hatten alle mehr oder weniger Spaß, und unser Chef kommentierte jede Bewegung und hätte mit seiner Euphorie in der Stimme jeden Fussballkommentator neidisch gemacht. Zum Glück tat sich keiner weh, obwohl das ein oder andere Manöver bei den zuschauenden Ehefrauen spitze Schreie und hektische Griffe an den Kopf hervorriefen.

Weil es draußen schüttete wie verrückt gab die Band Zugaben und der Whiskey (immer gern genommen, ob mit Kunden oder Kollegen, siehe dieses Foto der letzten Messe http://www.twitpic.com/qxtps) wurde ausgepackt. Um zwei Uhr morgens wurden dann aber auch die letzten Kinder quengelig und so wurden die Familien nach und nach mit riesen Sonnenschirmen durch den anhaltenden Regen zu Ihren Autos geleitet.

Ich war Fahrer einer Truppe und sollte uns alle wieder hoch auf den Hügel, auf dem die Stadt liegt, fahren. Die Straßen waren so überflutet dass man nicht sehen konnte wie hoch das Wasser stand. Überall waren schon Autos geparkt bzw. abgesofffen, die Mofafahrer drängelten sich auf den kleinen Verkehrsinseln.
Ich dachte, ich bin ganz schlau und fahr einem ähnlichen Auto langsam hinterher. Wenn er durchkommt, komm ich auch durch. Bei einem U-Turn allerdings lag ich etwa 5 Sekunden hinter ihm, und während der Fahrer des Wagens vor mir eiskalt durch das Wasser düste, bremste ich in der Kurve. Ein fataler Fehler, denn schon kam eine Welle und mein Auto stand bis zu den Lichtern im Wasser. Ich dachte jetzt ist es abgesoffen... Dann bin ich aber doch noch mit Warnblinker im Rückwärtsgang wieder rausgekommen; nach vorne wurde es nur immer tiefer.
Wir brauchten eine kleine Ewigkeit nach Hause, denn die meisten Straßen waren gespertt und auch vor meiner Haustür lief das Wasser in Strömen. Selbst die Temperaturen waren um 16°C auf kühle 22°C gefallen und somit war es fast weihnachtlich: Kühl, regnerisch, dunkel, und nass. Eigenltich so wie heute in Leverkusen.

Alles in allem ein echtes Abenteuer, so eine Weihnachtszeit in der Fremde. Aber Spaß hats gemacht! Und wie!

...und es klang, als wäre er seiner Katze auf den Schwanz getreten. Mehrmals. Im 4/4-Takt.

Diese Gedanken hatte ich gestern, als wir hier bei der großen Konferenz in Cuiabá zusammen zu Abend gegessen haben und dabei einer Live Band lauschen durften.
Der Klang jedoch ist beabsichtigt. Es nennt sich Sertanejo und ist die lokale und hier in der Gegend erfolgreichste Musikrichtung.

Wer sich darunter noch nichts vorstellen kann: Es ist lokale Volksmusik. Ein recht fröhlicher Beat eigentlich. Aber jammrigre Texte. Xavier Naidoo fällt mir dazu ein; und auch Florian Silbereisen. Ja, so in etwa. Es klingt wie Xavier Naidoo klingen würde, würde er zusammen mit Marianne und Michael (Akkordeon und Gitarre) bei Florian Silbereisens Volksmusikantenstadl-zdf-rentner-hitparade auftreten. "Diese Trennung wird keine leichte sein, diese Trennung wird steinig und schwer... drum' loss uns oardentli oan uffn grill lega un kräftig oan trinkn"...

Zwei Männer, zwei Gitarren. Einer kann spielen und macht die komplizierten Parts oder nimmt auch mal das Akkordeon zur Hand, der andere streicht nur hin und wieder mal über die Seiten und singt dafür. Sie grinsen. Grinsen in die Runde. Warten das endlich jemand tanzt, aber ich bin die einzige Frau unter 38 Männern und wenn es jemand gibt der in dieser Musik keinen tanzbaren Rhythmus findet, dann bin das ganz sicher ich.
Meine Kollegen grölen die Texte mit, sie kennen sie alle, freuen sich wenn sie auch mal ins Mikro jaulen dürfen.
"Du wirst schon noch lernen diese Musik zu mögen" sagen sie mir. Sicher bin ich mir da nicht. Eigentlich will ich auch gar nicht lernen diese Musik zu mögen.

Doch dann wippt plötzlich mein Fuss im Takt. Nur ganz kurz. Ich schaudere, grusel mich fast ein bisschen vor mir selbst... Haben sie doch recht? Kann man "lernen" eine Musikrichtung zu mögen? Ich grinse auch. Mit dem Sänger um die Wette. Nein, ich glaube bisher hab ich noch nicht viel gelernt. Aber für den Anblick meines Chefs der aus voller Überzeugung und mit Inbrunst die traurigen Texte ins Mikrofon singt das er dem eigentlichen Sänger entwedet hat, wie er sich bei den langen Tönen nach hinten beugt und mit seinen Händen der Tragik ausdruck verleiht... Wie alle Kollegen mit singen, das Bier in der Hand... Dafür kann man gut auch mal Katzenjammer-Kammermusik ertragen.

Was für ein schöner Abend denke ich, nehme einen Schluck Bier, suche den Takt des Akkordeons und wippe nochmal kurz mit dem Fuss.

Chile! - Part 3: Concha y Toro Vineyard

On Monday I met with Franziska and Alastair early in the morning. Carlos and Consuelo had to work, so they could not join us for our vineyard tour at the Concha y Torre Vineyard, just 45 minutes out of Santiago’s City Center.

I met them in their hotel for breakfast, we put our luggage in storage and stopped a cab on the street. We were lucky. The driver accepted to drive us to the vineyard and back for a reasonable price and would wait there for us. Also, he was the funniest taxi driver I have ever met. He made the whole tour into a sightseeing tour, but not showing us the best sights of Santiago, but things like his old elementary school. He was laughing the whole time and even took some wrong turns and laughed about it.
In the end, we made it to Concha y Toro 5 minutes after our reserved tour was supposed to start, but we could still join. We decided to chose the big tour which involved more wine and a little introduction to how one recognizes good wine.
The tour itself was cute, but nothing to what I had remembered from the wine tasting tour my parents once did in France (with me and my sister following them around the wine cellar, totally impressed by what we saw (which was totally as described in Asterx in Rome) but not understanding anything the guide says nor being able to taste). We saw the wine barrels and learned about the differences of American oak and French oak, why it is lying in the cellar and that the old cellars are naturally cooled and with the optimal humidity, while the new ones above ground need to be constantly monitored. The oldest cellar of Concha y Toro is called “Casa de Diablo” as the legend tells that bottles were stolen from the cellar by employees, to which Don Melchior (founder of the vineyard) reacted by telling the people that the devil lived down there and that every month he came and took a bottle of the finest wine. The story made up was so powerful that the Christian and superstitious people that lived and worked on the vineyard got scared of that particular cellar and called it “Casa de Diablo”. No more bottles were stolen.
After the tour we had a wine tasting, where we were able to test 4 different wines of one of the top brands of Concha y Toro. Concha y Toro, being one of the biggest vineyards in the world with more than 8000ha, has many brands for all kinds of segments, prices and tastes. We tasted a Merlot, a Carmenère (Concha y Toros specialty), a Shiraz (Syrah), and a Cabernet Sauvignon. I liked them all but the Merlot, however, Carmenere and Shiraz were my favourites with the cheese and crackers we had. The really really good Cabernet would have been great if it had come with a heavy meal…
We learned about the colors, the smelling, taste and the way it sticks to the glass and I found it so interesting that I would do a wine course just to get to know more about it, but unfortunately, Goiania is not really the right place for it.
Our funny cab driver brought us back to the city center where we had a good lunch at a Peruvian restaurant with a cabernet sauvignon which allowed us to try out what we just had learned. We walked back to our hotel to pick up our luggage and stopped a cab to drive us to the airport. On the way we stopped at a wine store where Alastair and Franziska bought some wine and then we had to go to the airport quickly.
As always, lines were really long, and when it was really really time to check in I was 2nd in the line and one of the ladies from the counters came and started picking out people from behind me in the queue that had a flight that left 5 minutes before mine. I tried to talk to her, because out of a sudden there were ten or more people in front of me and my check-in was closing. She didn’t hear and so I started bitching at her in Spanish and finally she heard me. Franziska and Alastair who just needed to drop off baggage as they were able to check in online were already at the counter and made me signs to hurry, as it was closing (the lady told them they were lucky arriving 2 minutes before closure). So I just pushed the lady aside and went over to the counter where Franziska and Alastair were standing and checked in there. Of course the LAN-Airline girl wasn’t happy, but really: what do I care in that moment…

We had to fly a big detour over the Andes due to bad weather conditions and only got out of the airport with our luggage around 1:30am. My flight to Goiania would leave at 8am, so it really did not make any sense to go into the city to sleep on Franziskas couch and go back at 5am. Instead I took one of the free hotel transfer cars and slept in a very rundown, hostel like hotel in Guarulhos. But that was okay. At least I had some light hours of sleep (not much though, there was a very loud group of young, drunk, male Brazilians). I arrived in Goiânia on time and drove directly to the office. I was a little late, but noone noticed and I had had a really great weekend!

Chile! - Part 2: The Seaside

The next morning we got up early to go to the beach. Originally I had planned to go skiing with Franziska and her boyfriend, but the weather forecast predicted heavy snow and I figured this would not be the best surrounding to stand on (snow)skis for the first time in my life.
Driving out of the city was really nice and, again, looked a lot like south Germany / Switzerland… Unfortunately the view was blocked many times by clouds and rain. The street wound nicely through the mountains and after a while I saw the sea! The first time I see the sea on the other side of the equator happened to be in Chile!
We stopped in a small town where they had a few huts making a little market with fresh fish, sea food (among them the freshest scallops ever!) and some hand made clothing. It was really cute, but the most amazing part were the Pelicans that sat all around, waiting for some fish to fall off the tables.

We had lunch in a cute little restaurant by the sea, where I had an amazing dish with crab meat in a claypot and of course: Pisco Sour. Pisco Sour really advanced to one of my favourite drinks on that weekend.
The clouds slowly cleared and after lunch was over, one could see the coast line, and the town with its colored fisher boats and pretty houses built into the cliffs, still partlz hid in low clouds, gave a magical view.
I was so “awwww-ed” by the view, that I forgot to look on the ground and a view seconds later was lying on the same. My feet had gotten caught in a fishers net… Fortunately I was able to safe my camera by holding my arms up high, which, on the other hand, is anything what I have learned from falling as a child and protecting ONE SELF. Ah well, the knee shall shut up, the camera was saved…

We moved on along the coastline in order to reach Vina del Mar and Valparaíso, which by now can be considered twin cities.
Just before reaching Vina del Mar we passed a big rock, just off the cliff, where at least 50 sea lions were gathered with many young ones playing in the water. So cute! I could have watched forever! A little later I think I even saw some penguins…

In Valparaíso we parked the car and took a nice walk around the city. To get to the upper part, we took the “elevator” which reminded me of a San Francisco Cable car, but with a steeper slope.
The view across the city, which is a UNESCO World Heritage by the way, was very nice. Mountains and sea, and in between cute little houses in all kinds of colors, most of which reminding me of candy. Rose, baby blue, yellow, white, indigo… the list could be endless, really.

Back in Santiago we were really hungry and thus rushed into Consuelo’s favourite Pizza Place, with the best Pizza in town. It was crowded with young people but we were lucky to find a little table close to the wine display.
I had not reached Franziska the whole day, and as we overheard that there had been a big Avalanche across the road of the ski resort Franziska and Alastair wanted to go to, I got a little worried. Fortunately they had decided last minute that they rather take another, bigger tour of the city instead of skiing in the snow because 2 days later there were still around 1300 tourists trapped upon the mountain.