I’ve written about 2,000 words on my thesis this week, don’t ask me how. There’s so much distraction: the purple flower-studded trail by the 
river, the bike ride to the Waldorf School, the kuchen and coffee at a local Konditorei. (I have to show you pictures 
and make you jealous, it’s in my nature.)
We ended the day at ye old Marburg University, founded in the 1500’s, the oldest Protestant University in the world. Among a gathering of anthropologists drinking champagne. (The topic of this year’s conference is South American indigenous cultures.)
At our clutch of reception attendees, C. mentioned his difficulty understanding the keynote speaker, a French woman who delivered her speech in English from a written script. I was caught off guard.
“In English? To a German audience? Is this common?” I asked in English (naturally.)
“Excuse me? Common … ?” Bless his heart.
“I mean, is it normal, that you have to listen to lectures delivered in English?”
“Well, yes, of course. Everyone understands English. But this translation was from the French, and it was a bad one. But this is, how you say, also common.”
I am trying to speak German, but as you can see, my life is not so tough.
On the walk home, in a fantasy land of lantern-lit pedestrian passageways, we stop outside an old apothecary to stare at the ghouls, reminding me it’s almost October.
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