In German, "einen Augenblick," or literally "an eyeblink" is used to mean "just a moment." Well, it turns out that two months are little more than a few eyeblinks in the context of a year, or a career. The Burns fellowship is at an end already; this is my last official day at Reuters (though I may take on a few more assignments before I leave the country in two weeks).
As with most conclusions, I greet this one with mixed feelings. It's a bit sad, because I feel as though I've just barely gotten settled. It's satisfying, because now I can look back and see how much I've learned and accomplished in a relatively short time. And it's scary, frankly, because I have no idea where I will live or work next. (Maybe I should call that exciting?)
My parents arrive on Tuesday for a two-week European adventure before we all head back stateside together. I'm looking forward to this chance to show them some of my favorite places, and to discover new ones together. Do any of you who have traveled in this region (broadly including southern Germany, Switzerland, Italy and Austria, since we'll be renting a car and are flexible about our route) have any suggestions about must-see places?
Friday 28 September 2007
Thursday 27 September 2007
Stories published
The main reason I applied for this fellowship in the first place was to explore the German side of the story about AMD, a major semiconductor manufacturer that currently has two plants in Dresden and plans to build a new one in upstate New York. Here's what I discovered:
In the Times Union:
http://timesunion.com/AspStories/story.asp?storyID=624000&category=BUSINESS&newsdate=9/22/2007
And a version for Reuters:
http://www.reuters.com/article/companyNewsAndPR/idUSL2469055520070924
In the Times Union:
http://timesunion.com/AspStories/story.asp?storyID=624000&category=BUSINESS&newsdate=9/22/2007
And a version for Reuters:
http://www.reuters.com/article/companyNewsAndPR/idUSL2469055520070924
Monday 17 September 2007
A weekend in the east
I went to Dresden on Friday for the Burns fellowship "midterm meeting" (technically, more like the three-quarter-term meeting, since there are only two weeks left!) and was startled by the city's beauty. Knowing how badly it was bombed during World War II, I was expecting something bleaker. There is still some evidence of that senseless destruction, to be sure, but the lavish Baroque architecture has been restored to splendor in several key places.
We were lucky enough to get a private tour of the Green Vault from its effusive curator on Friday night. This was literally like walking through a treasure chest, and I appreciated the simplicity of the displays, which kept the artifacts safe and yet approachable. There was a dazzling array of diamonds, silver, gold, crystal, pearls, porcelain and ivory in the collection, but I think my favorite piece was a humble cherry pit. Somehow, an artist had managed to carve over 100 faces onto this miniscule natural canvas! I asked the curator why someone would have bothered to do this, and I liked his answer: "To astonish you."
On Saturday we moved on to Leipzig, where the highlight was wandering through an area called the Spinnerei -- an old, abandoned cotton mill that now houses artists' studios. I loved this combination of ruin and creativity; the tired old brick walls seemed to welcome the burden of fresh ideas and colors.
In two places during the weekend, we learned about the Stasi and its astounding breadth and impact in the former East Germany. I was struck by the sinister brilliance of some of the agency's schemes -- they literally drove some people crazy, by systematically destroying their professional and personal lives in a way that left the victim wondering if it was their own fault -- and the utter stupidity of others, such as "collecting" people's smells in jars as part of surveillance. We met with the director of a modern-day agency that helps people seek reparation for their losses due to oppression by the Stasi, but he said it can be very hard to prove this legally. He himself was once a victim, and said it was personally liberating to gain access to his Stasi file and finally see exactly who had accused him of what, and why certain things had happened to him, such as losing his job and failing to graduate from school. I can only imagine what that must be like...certainly puts my own problems into perspective.
He said the question that he and many other east Germans are now asking is no longer "What did the Stasi do?" but instead "How could this happen? How could humans have been convinced to do such inhuman things?"
We were lucky enough to get a private tour of the Green Vault from its effusive curator on Friday night. This was literally like walking through a treasure chest, and I appreciated the simplicity of the displays, which kept the artifacts safe and yet approachable. There was a dazzling array of diamonds, silver, gold, crystal, pearls, porcelain and ivory in the collection, but I think my favorite piece was a humble cherry pit. Somehow, an artist had managed to carve over 100 faces onto this miniscule natural canvas! I asked the curator why someone would have bothered to do this, and I liked his answer: "To astonish you."
On Saturday we moved on to Leipzig, where the highlight was wandering through an area called the Spinnerei -- an old, abandoned cotton mill that now houses artists' studios. I loved this combination of ruin and creativity; the tired old brick walls seemed to welcome the burden of fresh ideas and colors.
In two places during the weekend, we learned about the Stasi and its astounding breadth and impact in the former East Germany. I was struck by the sinister brilliance of some of the agency's schemes -- they literally drove some people crazy, by systematically destroying their professional and personal lives in a way that left the victim wondering if it was their own fault -- and the utter stupidity of others, such as "collecting" people's smells in jars as part of surveillance. We met with the director of a modern-day agency that helps people seek reparation for their losses due to oppression by the Stasi, but he said it can be very hard to prove this legally. He himself was once a victim, and said it was personally liberating to gain access to his Stasi file and finally see exactly who had accused him of what, and why certain things had happened to him, such as losing his job and failing to graduate from school. I can only imagine what that must be like...certainly puts my own problems into perspective.
He said the question that he and many other east Germans are now asking is no longer "What did the Stasi do?" but instead "How could this happen? How could humans have been convinced to do such inhuman things?"
Friday 7 September 2007
More articles published
I contributed to three Reuters articles on the IFA electronics convention last week, which felt good given my general lack of productivity on this fellowship so far. One of the articles, about consumer attitudes toward so-called green products at the fair, got picked up all over the Web, by everyone from Boston.com to the Washington Post. Here it is...
Public indifferent to green overtures at IFA fair
By Georgina Prodhan and Amanda Bensen
Mon Sep 3, 1:47 PM ET
Manufacturers at Europe's biggest consumer electronics touted their green credentials in vain to customers more interested in bigger and brighter screens.
Exhibitors at IFA including Philips, Sharp and Fujitsu-Siemens tried to entice consumers with lower power use, more environmentally friendly production methods and recyclability.
Philips, Europe's biggest consumer electronics maker, uses a self-certified green logo on its more energy-efficient products. At IFA, the company said it would be making new energy-management targets public in the next few weeks.
And Sharp, the world's biggest maker of solar cells, said its new LCD televisions would offer "unprecedented" environmental performance.
Fujitsu-Siemens launched its first green personal computers for consumers, the Scaleo Green PC, which boasts energy efficiency, extremely quiet operation and a halogen-free motherboard, which will go on sale this autumn.
The company cited a Greenpeace study that puts environmental concerns third on buyers' lists of priorities after value for money and brand.
But most visitors to whom Reuters spoke at IFA seemed uninterested or even confused when asked what importance green concerns had in their buying choices.
Richard Lee, a 35-year-old electronics engineer, shrugged when asked whether he preferred green products. "I prefer Japanese products," he said, prying the back off a high-definition TV monitor to peer at the inner components.
Lee said he wanted to buy a 42-inch (107-centimetre) plasma HDTV and was prepared to pay about 3,000 euros ($4,100) for it.
Plasma has suffered in its battle with rival technology LCD from the fact that it uses far more power, and top makers of both plasma and LCD TVs told Reuters at IFA they aimed to reduce their models' power consumption by about 20-25 percent per year.
But the size of today's TV screens means that they easily draw three to five times as much power as smaller, older models, even if they are more efficient.
Frank Schmitz, 23, who came to look for a guitar audio processor, said he did care about environmentalism but questioned whether it was really possible to combine energy efficiency with some of the luxury-sized TVs on display.
"I saw one big one showing images of the Arctic and the melting ice caps, and I thought: This is a bit ironic, because probably it is part of the problem," he said.
IFA runs until September 5.
Public indifferent to green overtures at IFA fair
By Georgina Prodhan and Amanda Bensen
Mon Sep 3, 1:47 PM ET
Manufacturers at Europe's biggest consumer electronics touted their green credentials in vain to customers more interested in bigger and brighter screens.
Exhibitors at IFA including Philips, Sharp and Fujitsu-Siemens tried to entice consumers with lower power use, more environmentally friendly production methods and recyclability.
Philips, Europe's biggest consumer electronics maker, uses a self-certified green logo on its more energy-efficient products. At IFA, the company said it would be making new energy-management targets public in the next few weeks.
And Sharp, the world's biggest maker of solar cells, said its new LCD televisions would offer "unprecedented" environmental performance.
Fujitsu-Siemens launched its first green personal computers for consumers, the Scaleo Green PC, which boasts energy efficiency, extremely quiet operation and a halogen-free motherboard, which will go on sale this autumn.
The company cited a Greenpeace study that puts environmental concerns third on buyers' lists of priorities after value for money and brand.
But most visitors to whom Reuters spoke at IFA seemed uninterested or even confused when asked what importance green concerns had in their buying choices.
Richard Lee, a 35-year-old electronics engineer, shrugged when asked whether he preferred green products. "I prefer Japanese products," he said, prying the back off a high-definition TV monitor to peer at the inner components.
Lee said he wanted to buy a 42-inch (107-centimetre) plasma HDTV and was prepared to pay about 3,000 euros ($4,100) for it.
Plasma has suffered in its battle with rival technology LCD from the fact that it uses far more power, and top makers of both plasma and LCD TVs told Reuters at IFA they aimed to reduce their models' power consumption by about 20-25 percent per year.
But the size of today's TV screens means that they easily draw three to five times as much power as smaller, older models, even if they are more efficient.
Frank Schmitz, 23, who came to look for a guitar audio processor, said he did care about environmentalism but questioned whether it was really possible to combine energy efficiency with some of the luxury-sized TVs on display.
"I saw one big one showing images of the Arctic and the melting ice caps, and I thought: This is a bit ironic, because probably it is part of the problem," he said.
IFA runs until September 5.
fíne wine by the Rhine
My boyfriend arrived Wednesday for a ten day visit. This is his first foreign adventure (I don't think going to Canada counts, especially since he grew up in Buffalo), and it is refreshing for me to see things through a new traveler's eyes...he is amazed by little things I might consider ordinary, like old stones, and good croissants, and the sound of certain German words.
Yesterday, we took a day trip to the villages of St. Goar and Bacharach, along the Rhine river. They are the kind of places you see in postcards, with tiny train stations and narrow cobblestoned streets that seem ghostly quiet in the evenings, but life pulses inside the walls of little wine cellars and cafes if you know which doors to open.
In the afternoon, we climbed the hill above St. Goar to explore the ruins of Burg Rheinfels castle, where I had been once before with my grandmother but certainly did not mind seeing again. The misty weather seemed to suit the place, I felt like I might discover a knight or a watchful archer peeking through a slit in the stone wall. Instead, all we discovered was an old man selling postcards...oh well.
We took a train a few minutes south to Bacharach for dinner, and enjoyed some of the fine local wine with our meals. For only 3 or 4 dollars a glass, you can get some delicious whites, especially Riesling! If I lived there I might drink a lot more...I am guessing most of the locals do, since the place is named after the Roman god of wine and revelry (Bacchus)!
Yesterday, we took a day trip to the villages of St. Goar and Bacharach, along the Rhine river. They are the kind of places you see in postcards, with tiny train stations and narrow cobblestoned streets that seem ghostly quiet in the evenings, but life pulses inside the walls of little wine cellars and cafes if you know which doors to open.
In the afternoon, we climbed the hill above St. Goar to explore the ruins of Burg Rheinfels castle, where I had been once before with my grandmother but certainly did not mind seeing again. The misty weather seemed to suit the place, I felt like I might discover a knight or a watchful archer peeking through a slit in the stone wall. Instead, all we discovered was an old man selling postcards...oh well.
We took a train a few minutes south to Bacharach for dinner, and enjoyed some of the fine local wine with our meals. For only 3 or 4 dollars a glass, you can get some delicious whites, especially Riesling! If I lived there I might drink a lot more...I am guessing most of the locals do, since the place is named after the Roman god of wine and revelry (Bacchus)!
Monday 3 September 2007
The future has red hair
The consumer electronics convention (called the IFA) in Berlin must have been heaven for gadget geeks, since even my not-so-tech-savvy self found it interesting. There were at least a dozen exhibit halls, packed with everything from the biggest, flattest, most high-definition TV screens to odd little items like a toothbrush sterilizer.
The prize for weirdest exhibit could easily have gone to the "high-tech clothing" display, which consisted of a creepy-looking army of white plastic mannequins decked out in outfits that included built-in controls for personal electronic devices. My favorite was the lederhosen with an iPod holster -- you could adjust the volume by pressing a button on your thigh.
I guess it is normal at conventions like this, but I was amazed at how blatantly sex and sales are tied together. Nearly every exhibit included a beautiful woman in a slinky dress (or at least a tight shirt) who, frustratingly, was unable to answer most questions I asked about the products. And then there was "Miss IFA (click for photo)," a pretty young woman in a cherry-red dress with hair dyed to match. The press materials said she "was transformed from a virtual figure into a real-life one" in 2005. Wow, that is quite a trick! Is she related to Pinocchio?
The press release also said that Miss IFA's look is meant to represent "the latest innovations and technology." Yeah, a hot girl in a red dress...very innovative indeed. Why couldn't they at least invent some more comfortable shoes for the poor woman, who spent her week trekking through endless concrete halls on painfully spiky heels while maintaining a perky smile at all times. If I were her, I might want to go back to being virtual!
The prize for weirdest exhibit could easily have gone to the "high-tech clothing" display, which consisted of a creepy-looking army of white plastic mannequins decked out in outfits that included built-in controls for personal electronic devices. My favorite was the lederhosen with an iPod holster -- you could adjust the volume by pressing a button on your thigh.
I guess it is normal at conventions like this, but I was amazed at how blatantly sex and sales are tied together. Nearly every exhibit included a beautiful woman in a slinky dress (or at least a tight shirt) who, frustratingly, was unable to answer most questions I asked about the products. And then there was "Miss IFA (click for photo)," a pretty young woman in a cherry-red dress with hair dyed to match. The press materials said she "was transformed from a virtual figure into a real-life one" in 2005. Wow, that is quite a trick! Is she related to Pinocchio?
The press release also said that Miss IFA's look is meant to represent "the latest innovations and technology." Yeah, a hot girl in a red dress...very innovative indeed. Why couldn't they at least invent some more comfortable shoes for the poor woman, who spent her week trekking through endless concrete halls on painfully spiky heels while maintaining a perky smile at all times. If I were her, I might want to go back to being virtual!
Thursday 30 August 2007
Smile! You're on...well, we can't tell you that.
(Sept. 3: Sorry for the delay in posting this, which I actually wrote last week, but I ran out of coins and time at the Internet cafe!)
I am in Berlin for the week, allegedly to cover a consumer electronics convention. But there isn't much to cover until the actual consumers arrive tomorrow, so today I am just seeing the sights. When the flocks of tourists and pigeons (sometimes I don't see a huge difference, to be honest) started to get annoying, I sought respite in a quiet-looking cafe.
From the moment I walked in, I had the sense that there was something strange going on. Everyone seemed to know something I didn't. People sat at a few of the tables with coffees in front of them, but no one was taking a sip. The man at the table across from me was wearing headphones and had a heavy box of audio recording equipment slung around his neck. He was ostensibly reading the newspaper, but his eyes were directed over the top of the page, toward the front door.
A woman sat alone at another table, smiling and waiting. She seemed to be looking a lot at a white box in front of her, beside the front door. A chalkboard with the list of specials covered one side, and what looked like a television screen faced her. But I could see some dim motion and shape in the screen -- a hand pressing against it, a murky face? It reminded me of a magic 8 ball, with something mysterious bobbing around beneath the opaque surface.
The two guys in the corner seemed nervous and out of place, too. They were smoking and talking, but keep getting up and down from their chairs. A staircase made to look like flames covered the wall across from me, and behind the orange frosted glass I could make out the face of a waitress, crouched and curious, peering something I couldn't see. When she noticed me watching her, she scurried away. I ordered eggs and coffee and decided to stay put and see how this scene played out.
Suddenly, one of the guys jerked to attention and ran to the front door. He made an almost imperceptible gesture toward the white box and returned to his seat. A moment later, a middle-aged man entered the cafe, sat down with the woman, and . The audio guy began buttons and fiddling with a pole that I realized was an extendable microphone. After a minute or two, the woman ran out of the cafe. The man looked down at something in his hands, then back at the door, obviously befuddled. When he got up to run after her, the audio guy dropped his newspaper and followed, no longer attempting to hide his equipment. A cameraman popped out of the white box.
Wow, I thought, is this a taping for a television show? A journalistic expose? An elaborate joke?
Well, yes to all three, in a way. I hung around and asked some questions, since that is what journalists do, after all. I discovered that this was a taping for a pilot TV program along the lines of the American show "Candid Camera," but with a public-service spin. They wouldn't tell me the name of it or the network it would air on, since it isn't officially sold yet, but they explained the premise.
"It is about hustlers, or -- what do you call it? Scams?" the audio guy explained to me. In this particular episode, the unsuspecting victim had purchased a laptop on eBay, and the seller said she would need to deliver it in person. So they arranged to meet at a cafe, and the woman showed him a real laptop, then distracted him with friendly conversation (it didn't hurt that she was pretty, I bet) and switched the real thing with a wooden laptop.
"This is a common problem," one of the producers told me with a straight face.
Hmm. I'd kind of like to see this show. Maybe next they will trick someone into buying a wooden car? That would require a very, very pretty woman indeed.
I am in Berlin for the week, allegedly to cover a consumer electronics convention. But there isn't much to cover until the actual consumers arrive tomorrow, so today I am just seeing the sights. When the flocks of tourists and pigeons (sometimes I don't see a huge difference, to be honest) started to get annoying, I sought respite in a quiet-looking cafe.
From the moment I walked in, I had the sense that there was something strange going on. Everyone seemed to know something I didn't. People sat at a few of the tables with coffees in front of them, but no one was taking a sip. The man at the table across from me was wearing headphones and had a heavy box of audio recording equipment slung around his neck. He was ostensibly reading the newspaper, but his eyes were directed over the top of the page, toward the front door.
A woman sat alone at another table, smiling and waiting. She seemed to be looking a lot at a white box in front of her, beside the front door. A chalkboard with the list of specials covered one side, and what looked like a television screen faced her. But I could see some dim motion and shape in the screen -- a hand pressing against it, a murky face? It reminded me of a magic 8 ball, with something mysterious bobbing around beneath the opaque surface.
The two guys in the corner seemed nervous and out of place, too. They were smoking and talking, but keep getting up and down from their chairs. A staircase made to look like flames covered the wall across from me, and behind the orange frosted glass I could make out the face of a waitress, crouched and curious, peering something I couldn't see. When she noticed me watching her, she scurried away. I ordered eggs and coffee and decided to stay put and see how this scene played out.
Suddenly, one of the guys jerked to attention and ran to the front door. He made an almost imperceptible gesture toward the white box and returned to his seat. A moment later, a middle-aged man entered the cafe, sat down with the woman, and . The audio guy began buttons and fiddling with a pole that I realized was an extendable microphone. After a minute or two, the woman ran out of the cafe. The man looked down at something in his hands, then back at the door, obviously befuddled. When he got up to run after her, the audio guy dropped his newspaper and followed, no longer attempting to hide his equipment. A cameraman popped out of the white box.
Wow, I thought, is this a taping for a television show? A journalistic expose? An elaborate joke?
Well, yes to all three, in a way. I hung around and asked some questions, since that is what journalists do, after all. I discovered that this was a taping for a pilot TV program along the lines of the American show "Candid Camera," but with a public-service spin. They wouldn't tell me the name of it or the network it would air on, since it isn't officially sold yet, but they explained the premise.
"It is about hustlers, or -- what do you call it? Scams?" the audio guy explained to me. In this particular episode, the unsuspecting victim had purchased a laptop on eBay, and the seller said she would need to deliver it in person. So they arranged to meet at a cafe, and the woman showed him a real laptop, then distracted him with friendly conversation (it didn't hurt that she was pretty, I bet) and switched the real thing with a wooden laptop.
"This is a common problem," one of the producers told me with a straight face.
Hmm. I'd kind of like to see this show. Maybe next they will trick someone into buying a wooden car? That would require a very, very pretty woman indeed.
Tuesday 21 August 2007
I should have wished for a yacht
Last night, I met up with the group of expats that tries out a different cafe in the Bornheim neighborhood each Monday evening. (Though I don't know if expats is really the right term, because there are a lot of Germans that show up as well. Basically it is an international mix of people eager for an excuse to do something besides sit at home watching documentaries about things like the history of bricks because that's all they could find in English...oh wait, that's what I am doing tonight! Nothing wrong with that at all.)
Anyway, my point is, they are wonderfully nice people. (And I'm not just saying that because one of them has discovered this blog.) I already knew that, but it was tangible last night, as I got into a conversation with a German guy about transportation in the city. I said the subway system was great, but I wished I had a bike.
"Do you want a bike? I have a spare one," he responded, and a few hours later, I was pedaling my way home! It is old-fashioned and a bit magical looking, I think, although fortunately most potential thieves would just see it as old. I particularly like the sound of its little bell clanging gleefully whenever we encounter cobblestones, as if it is agreeing with me that the streets look better that way.
Anyway, my point is, they are wonderfully nice people. (And I'm not just saying that because one of them has discovered this blog.) I already knew that, but it was tangible last night, as I got into a conversation with a German guy about transportation in the city. I said the subway system was great, but I wished I had a bike.
"Do you want a bike? I have a spare one," he responded, and a few hours later, I was pedaling my way home! It is old-fashioned and a bit magical looking, I think, although fortunately most potential thieves would just see it as old. I particularly like the sound of its little bell clanging gleefully whenever we encounter cobblestones, as if it is agreeing with me that the streets look better that way.
Friday 17 August 2007
Finally!
So, I have officially published my first story with Reuters. Nothing fascinating -- just a brief news story about a survey of executive pay in Germany, which I compared to executive pay in the US -- but for me, it represents jumping over a lot of hurdles.
The press conference was in German, so I waited until everyone but the speakers had left and begged them to answer a few questions for me in English. The hardest part for me was digging through financial documents online and doing math for three hours to come up with few simple paragraphs. Fortunately, a very nice editor here took time to help me doublecheck things and make the story presentable.
Here it is, if you care:
18:46 16Aug07 -Top German CEO salaries advance 7.3 pct, says survey
FRANKFURT, Aug 16 (Reuters) - German executive pay rose rapidly in 2006, according to survey results released on Wednesday by DSW, a shareholders' activist group.
The survey examined the salaries and bonuses earned in the past two years by CEOs of companies listed on the DAX, the 30-member blue-chip stock index.
Chief executive officers were paid an average of 3.4 million euros ($4.6 million) in salary in 2006, 7.3 percent more than in 2005. Deutsche Bank CEO Josef Ackermann had the fattest pay slip at 9.4 million, up 9.3 percent, it said.
Factoring in compensation linked to share price performance, CEOs' pay increase was twice as steep, rising from an average 3.75 million euros in 2005 to 4.4 million euros in 2006 based on those companies providing figures for both years.
Last year was the first that German companies had to detail what individual executives earned.
"In Europe, we are in the top quarter in terms of pay, easily comparable to France and Britain," said Gunther Friedl, a professor at Munich Technical University who helped present the survey results and spoke with Reuters after a news conference.
"American pay is still the highest in the world, but in the last few years, we are filling the gap more," he added.
In 2006, CEOs of the 30 U.S. companies included in the Dow Jones Industrial Index earned an average salary of $1.5 million, according to SEC filings. However, the executives' total compensation packages averaged closer to $17 million each when stock options and all other payouts were included in the calculation.
(Reporting by Amanda Bensen) ($1=.7421 Euro)
The press conference was in German, so I waited until everyone but the speakers had left and begged them to answer a few questions for me in English. The hardest part for me was digging through financial documents online and doing math for three hours to come up with few simple paragraphs. Fortunately, a very nice editor here took time to help me doublecheck things and make the story presentable.
Here it is, if you care:
18:46 16Aug07 -Top German CEO salaries advance 7.3 pct, says survey
FRANKFURT, Aug 16 (Reuters) - German executive pay rose rapidly in 2006, according to survey results released on Wednesday by DSW, a shareholders' activist group.
The survey examined the salaries and bonuses earned in the past two years by CEOs of companies listed on the DAX, the 30-member blue-chip stock index.
Chief executive officers were paid an average of 3.4 million euros ($4.6 million) in salary in 2006, 7.3 percent more than in 2005. Deutsche Bank CEO Josef Ackermann had the fattest pay slip at 9.4 million, up 9.3 percent, it said.
Factoring in compensation linked to share price performance, CEOs' pay increase was twice as steep, rising from an average 3.75 million euros in 2005 to 4.4 million euros in 2006 based on those companies providing figures for both years.
Last year was the first that German companies had to detail what individual executives earned.
"In Europe, we are in the top quarter in terms of pay, easily comparable to France and Britain," said Gunther Friedl, a professor at Munich Technical University who helped present the survey results and spoke with Reuters after a news conference.
"American pay is still the highest in the world, but in the last few years, we are filling the gap more," he added.
In 2006, CEOs of the 30 U.S. companies included in the Dow Jones Industrial Index earned an average salary of $1.5 million, according to SEC filings. However, the executives' total compensation packages averaged closer to $17 million each when stock options and all other payouts were included in the calculation.
(Reporting by Amanda Bensen) ($1=.7421 Euro)
Thursday 16 August 2007
Heidelberg unwrapped
Feeling restless (and unwilling to go to the office with no work to do) on Wednesday, I took a spontaneous day trip to Heidelberg, a historic university town about an hour south of Frankfurt by train.
Heidelberg is one of those places that seems to inspire strong love or hate in most Germans, so I was curious to check it out and form my own opinion. Since I didn’t have a guidebook, I stopped by the tourist information building when I arrived.
“Do you speak English?” I asked the girl behind the desk, who nodded. “Okay, I am only here for one day, what do you recommend seeing or doing?”
“You want one? Five Euro,” she replied.
Hmm. This must be what it’s like in reverse for the Germans when I try to speak their language.
It turned out that she was trying to sell me a one-day public transit pass, which I bought, thinking I was purchasing a map (in the end, I got one of those as well). I took the bus to the center of town and decided to explore on foot.
The main street has the same retail chains one would see in most major cities – H&M, The Body Shop, Benetton, etc. – and a plethora of overpriced sidewalk cafes. It also had at least two shops devoted exclusively to gummi bears, which I found a bit odd (can you really turn a profit on such a minor thing in what appears to be prime commercial real estate?).
At the end of the main drag, I found a large old cathedral building, which was disappointingly ordinary inside. I mean, it was certainly better than the modern warehouse-style megachurch architecture in parts of the U.S., but I’ve seen a lot of old European churches with more character.
On to the most obvious sight, then – the castle ruins looming above the town. By the time I climbed all 808 stone steps uphill (no, I didn’t count, there was a sign), I was hot, tired and getting a bit grumpy. It didn’t help that there were packs of Asian tourists in every nook and cranny of the castle grounds, usually blocking pedestrian traffic by posing for 12 variations on the same photograph.
The hill proved a nice spot for getting a birds-eye view of the red-roofed town below, but the ruins themselves didn’t fascinate me. Once again, I felt like I was looking at something I had already seen in a dozen other European towns.
But Heidelberg redeemed itself at the last minute. My view of the town (and the world in general) was much improved after a brief respite involving ice cream, coffee and some shade. Then I noticed a sign for the Deutsche Verpackungs Museum, set back off the main street a bit. The German…Packaging Museum? Was I reading that right?
As it turns out, I was. This small, three-room museum is a fascinating detour from the traditional tourist sights. Some of the things behind glass include century-old bonbon tins;1950s style dollhouses full of miniature products; still-unopened canned goods dropped over Berlin during World War II; a “Titanic” cigarette tin (they killed that brand name after the ship sunk, though in a way it’s a nicely subtle take on the classic surgeon general’s warning); and a Tic-Tac dispenser that I think I actually saw in stores as a kid. I took some cool pictures; will post them soon.
The woman at the admission desk was thrilled to have a visitor – I guess the museum hasn’t made it onto the classic tour group circuit. When I left, she looked up from the curtain she was crocheting and asked plaintively, “Will I see you again?”
Um…probably not. Sorry. But I'll be thinking of you the next time I throw out a candy wrapper!
Heidelberg is one of those places that seems to inspire strong love or hate in most Germans, so I was curious to check it out and form my own opinion. Since I didn’t have a guidebook, I stopped by the tourist information building when I arrived.
“Do you speak English?” I asked the girl behind the desk, who nodded. “Okay, I am only here for one day, what do you recommend seeing or doing?”
“You want one? Five Euro,” she replied.
Hmm. This must be what it’s like in reverse for the Germans when I try to speak their language.
It turned out that she was trying to sell me a one-day public transit pass, which I bought, thinking I was purchasing a map (in the end, I got one of those as well). I took the bus to the center of town and decided to explore on foot.
The main street has the same retail chains one would see in most major cities – H&M, The Body Shop, Benetton, etc. – and a plethora of overpriced sidewalk cafes. It also had at least two shops devoted exclusively to gummi bears, which I found a bit odd (can you really turn a profit on such a minor thing in what appears to be prime commercial real estate?).
At the end of the main drag, I found a large old cathedral building, which was disappointingly ordinary inside. I mean, it was certainly better than the modern warehouse-style megachurch architecture in parts of the U.S., but I’ve seen a lot of old European churches with more character.
On to the most obvious sight, then – the castle ruins looming above the town. By the time I climbed all 808 stone steps uphill (no, I didn’t count, there was a sign), I was hot, tired and getting a bit grumpy. It didn’t help that there were packs of Asian tourists in every nook and cranny of the castle grounds, usually blocking pedestrian traffic by posing for 12 variations on the same photograph.
The hill proved a nice spot for getting a birds-eye view of the red-roofed town below, but the ruins themselves didn’t fascinate me. Once again, I felt like I was looking at something I had already seen in a dozen other European towns.
But Heidelberg redeemed itself at the last minute. My view of the town (and the world in general) was much improved after a brief respite involving ice cream, coffee and some shade. Then I noticed a sign for the Deutsche Verpackungs Museum, set back off the main street a bit. The German…Packaging Museum? Was I reading that right?
As it turns out, I was. This small, three-room museum is a fascinating detour from the traditional tourist sights. Some of the things behind glass include century-old bonbon tins;1950s style dollhouses full of miniature products; still-unopened canned goods dropped over Berlin during World War II; a “Titanic” cigarette tin (they killed that brand name after the ship sunk, though in a way it’s a nicely subtle take on the classic surgeon general’s warning); and a Tic-Tac dispenser that I think I actually saw in stores as a kid. I took some cool pictures; will post them soon.
The woman at the admission desk was thrilled to have a visitor – I guess the museum hasn’t made it onto the classic tour group circuit. When I left, she looked up from the curtain she was crocheting and asked plaintively, “Will I see you again?”
Um…probably not. Sorry. But I'll be thinking of you the next time I throw out a candy wrapper!
Monday 13 August 2007
Little women
My mom sent me a note asking why this blog is titled "Frau Amanda" and not "Fraulein Amanda," since she thought that was the difference between Mrs. and Miss, and last time she checked, I wasn't married.
Well, surprise, Mom!
No, I didn't get married. But I have heard/read from several reliable sources that most Germans decided to stop using "Fraulein" about 20 years ago, because it was seen as rather condescending (literally means "little woman"), and there was no equivalent for men (everyone is "Herr," married or not). So "Frau" is more like a generic "Ms." now.
But as long as we're being technical, I should point out that no one would ever call me Frau Amanda -- the proper form of address would be Frau Bensen.
Well, surprise, Mom!
No, I didn't get married. But I have heard/read from several reliable sources that most Germans decided to stop using "Fraulein" about 20 years ago, because it was seen as rather condescending (literally means "little woman"), and there was no equivalent for men (everyone is "Herr," married or not). So "Frau" is more like a generic "Ms." now.
But as long as we're being technical, I should point out that no one would ever call me Frau Amanda -- the proper form of address would be Frau Bensen.
Saturday 11 August 2007
language practice
Last night I went to dinner with a coworker (can I use that word when I don't really do any work there?) and we ended up sharing a table at a crowded restaurant with a friendly young German couple who struck up a conversation. We exchanged phone numbers at the end, and the woman invited me to a party tonight. So, finally I have made some friends here who are actually German (before this I only had Americans and Brits)!
When they realized I was new to their country and trying to improve my language skills, they started pretending they didn't understand anything I said in English...it was a bit terrifying but quite helpful. I wish more people here would do that, but instead, most people switch to English whenever I hesitate to find a word in German, and so I stop trying.
Best German word I have learned so far: schicki-micki. Used to describe particularly preppy/posh people and places. As in, "I can't go to that schicki-micki club wearing this! Let's stay in the beer garden."
When they realized I was new to their country and trying to improve my language skills, they started pretending they didn't understand anything I said in English...it was a bit terrifying but quite helpful. I wish more people here would do that, but instead, most people switch to English whenever I hesitate to find a word in German, and so I stop trying.
Best German word I have learned so far: schicki-micki. Used to describe particularly preppy/posh people and places. As in, "I can't go to that schicki-micki club wearing this! Let's stay in the beer garden."
Thursday 9 August 2007
Too many foreign languages!
My first assignment for Reuters was to cover a press conference where an accounting firm released the results of a study about the economics of European soccer leagues. Right...soccer and European economics...probably the two subjects I know least about in life. Oh, and did I mention that the press conference was in German? Make that three foreign languages!
I only understood about 20 percent of what the speaker was saying (blah blah blah "soccer clubs"...blah blah "stock exchange"...blah blah "that's a good question," etc.) Fortunately, there were written materials available, which I took back to the office and translated fast and furiously with the help of online dictionaries. I also stuck around after the press conference and asked other reporters, then eventually the bemused-but-patient speaker himself, if they would mind summarizing the main points in English for me. I got the sense from the other journos that it wasn't a major story, just something sports nerds might care about.
Back at the office, a senior reporter helped me decipher the stack of charts and graphs I had gathered, and suggested I write a brief story about the finding that France has a more exciting (i.e. there are a lot of close matches, rather than the same teams winning constantly) league than the rest of Europe. So I wrote about six paragraphs...he cut it down to three, and took the lead off because it was "too featurey," and then in the end, the London office decided the subject wasn't quite broad enough to pass muster for the international wires. (But it may end up on their soccer blog.)
You might think that a day of hard work with no tangible results would leave one feeling frustrated, but I was actually just relieved it was all over! Plus, even fake work is better than no work...good practice in terms of language skills and deadline reporting.
I only understood about 20 percent of what the speaker was saying (blah blah blah "soccer clubs"...blah blah "stock exchange"...blah blah "that's a good question," etc.) Fortunately, there were written materials available, which I took back to the office and translated fast and furiously with the help of online dictionaries. I also stuck around after the press conference and asked other reporters, then eventually the bemused-but-patient speaker himself, if they would mind summarizing the main points in English for me. I got the sense from the other journos that it wasn't a major story, just something sports nerds might care about.
Back at the office, a senior reporter helped me decipher the stack of charts and graphs I had gathered, and suggested I write a brief story about the finding that France has a more exciting (i.e. there are a lot of close matches, rather than the same teams winning constantly) league than the rest of Europe. So I wrote about six paragraphs...he cut it down to three, and took the lead off because it was "too featurey," and then in the end, the London office decided the subject wasn't quite broad enough to pass muster for the international wires. (But it may end up on their soccer blog.)
You might think that a day of hard work with no tangible results would leave one feeling frustrated, but I was actually just relieved it was all over! Plus, even fake work is better than no work...good practice in terms of language skills and deadline reporting.
Monday 6 August 2007
View from a park bench
I've just discovered the most beautiful little park on the edge of the Bornheim district, full of sweet-smelling exotic flowers and placid people exchanging whispered conversations or kisses, or simply staring thoughtfully at the beauty around them. Part of the park is modeled after a Chinese garden, with an old stone pagoda and a pond full of lotus. It makes me walk more slowly, wondering what my own rush is in contrast to such stillness.
I'm on my way to a cafe to meet up with a group of ex-pats whose social calendar I noticed in an online community. I have no idea if we'll have anything in common or not, but it's nice to know they will at least be fluent in English. I'm okay at having basic conversations in German, but it takes more fluency to convey a sense of humor or wit, so I'd rather make friends in English.
Everything looks lovely in this slanting evening light, even old men; baseball caps; cell phones; shoulders; stray cats. A few yards in front of me, an Arab man in a business suit pauses by a large pot of trumpet-shaped orange flowers. He lifts one to his nose, and his mouth lifts into a blissful grin beneath his mustache. I admire men who smell flowers in public.
I'm on my way to a cafe to meet up with a group of ex-pats whose social calendar I noticed in an online community. I have no idea if we'll have anything in common or not, but it's nice to know they will at least be fluent in English. I'm okay at having basic conversations in German, but it takes more fluency to convey a sense of humor or wit, so I'd rather make friends in English.
Everything looks lovely in this slanting evening light, even old men; baseball caps; cell phones; shoulders; stray cats. A few yards in front of me, an Arab man in a business suit pauses by a large pot of trumpet-shaped orange flowers. He lifts one to his nose, and his mouth lifts into a blissful grin beneath his mustache. I admire men who smell flowers in public.
Sunday 5 August 2007
Weekend wanderings
Gorgeous weather throughout my first weekend here makes it easier to like this city. Yesterday, I stumbled across a street fair beside the river, packed with tourists and locals enjoying amusement park rides, beer gardens, ice cream, bratwurst and some terrible-looking fried concoctions. I took a lot of pictures, and will post some soon.
In the evening I went to a party at a coworker's house, loosely termed a barbecue (actually she just had one of those 12-inch hibachis with a handful of charcoal in it, but managed to at least warm some sausages and cheese). It was a good opportunity, the first I've had, to get to know some of the people that seem so intimidating in the office. Turns out they're quite nice when not on deadline, actually. Many of them reassured me that they, too, didn't know much about financial reporting -- or German -- when they first started. I went out with a few of them after the party to their favorite neighborhood bar, and didn't get home until 4 a.m.! So much for getting into the right time zone.
This afternoon, I joined the hundreds of people sprawled on the soft, sloping lawn of the local park, sleepily watching the squealing children play in the small waterpark in the center. For a few minutes, I actually felt like a local...or at least not concious of my own foreignness for the first time in days.
Now I'm at another sidewalk cafe, wearing a tank top and cotton skirt and enjoying the feel of the breeze and sunshine on my skin. (It was quite cold the week before this.) I ordered an "eiskaffee" from the menu, thinking it was simply iced coffee, but I forgot that "eis" actually means "ice cream" in German...a delicious mistake!
In the evening I went to a party at a coworker's house, loosely termed a barbecue (actually she just had one of those 12-inch hibachis with a handful of charcoal in it, but managed to at least warm some sausages and cheese). It was a good opportunity, the first I've had, to get to know some of the people that seem so intimidating in the office. Turns out they're quite nice when not on deadline, actually. Many of them reassured me that they, too, didn't know much about financial reporting -- or German -- when they first started. I went out with a few of them after the party to their favorite neighborhood bar, and didn't get home until 4 a.m.! So much for getting into the right time zone.
This afternoon, I joined the hundreds of people sprawled on the soft, sloping lawn of the local park, sleepily watching the squealing children play in the small waterpark in the center. For a few minutes, I actually felt like a local...or at least not concious of my own foreignness for the first time in days.
Now I'm at another sidewalk cafe, wearing a tank top and cotton skirt and enjoying the feel of the breeze and sunshine on my skin. (It was quite cold the week before this.) I ordered an "eiskaffee" from the menu, thinking it was simply iced coffee, but I forgot that "eis" actually means "ice cream" in German...a delicious mistake!
Saturday 4 August 2007
Isolation
I'm in a little tea cafe on some street in Frankfurt where I ended up after a long walk, driven by a combination of loneliness, restlessness and general disorientation. Somehow I would rather be out among strangers than alone in my utterly impersonal apartment on a too-quiet street.
The same archetypal characters keep strolling down the sidewalk past me. There goes another pair of young hipsters, another businessman on a bicycle, another dapper middle-aged couple with ice cream cones that they seem to be trying hard not to enjoy too much. There's a workman in paint-splattered blue overalls, looking pleased about going home for the day. It seems like everyone here fits into the scene as if cast there, and I'm simply the invisible audience.
I know this is only temporary -- I'll either make some friends and start to fit in, or simply endure, but either way it will end in a few months. A foursome of friends just walked into the cafe, loud and laughing, and I feel grateful for their presence. It reminds me that there is such a thing as being a local, comfortable with the language and surroundings. It reminds me that someday, I'll be one of them again (and probably start feeling the urge to sneak away for some solitude, or embark on another adventure, funnily enough).
The same archetypal characters keep strolling down the sidewalk past me. There goes another pair of young hipsters, another businessman on a bicycle, another dapper middle-aged couple with ice cream cones that they seem to be trying hard not to enjoy too much. There's a workman in paint-splattered blue overalls, looking pleased about going home for the day. It seems like everyone here fits into the scene as if cast there, and I'm simply the invisible audience.
I know this is only temporary -- I'll either make some friends and start to fit in, or simply endure, but either way it will end in a few months. A foursome of friends just walked into the cafe, loud and laughing, and I feel grateful for their presence. It reminds me that there is such a thing as being a local, comfortable with the language and surroundings. It reminds me that someday, I'll be one of them again (and probably start feeling the urge to sneak away for some solitude, or embark on another adventure, funnily enough).
Wednesday 1 August 2007
Hier bin ich
Well, here I am. Frankfurt (technically, the city is named Frankfurt am Main, to distinguish it from the other, much smaller Frankfurt in northeast Germany).
I arrived on Monday morning after an overnight flight, and managed to stay up most of the day by getting wrapped up in the new Harry Potter book. So, now I'm pretty much in the right time zone, though still feeling a bit groggy.
I'm renting a flat from one of the German fellows (he is spending the next two months in Atlanta and New York) in a nice neighborhood called Nordend, where the century-old buildings are painted peaceful shades of beige, pink and yellow. It's a bit lonely not having roommates for the first time in years.
As I walked to the subway station today, an old lady in a wheelchair was slowly rolling herself backward along the sidewalk, singing loudly and cheerfully in German. A strange sight, but it made me smile.
Now I'm at my desk at Reuters, where I'll be spending the next two months. I don't know enough to be very useful yet, unfortunately -- I hope that will change by the end of my time here.
I arrived on Monday morning after an overnight flight, and managed to stay up most of the day by getting wrapped up in the new Harry Potter book. So, now I'm pretty much in the right time zone, though still feeling a bit groggy.
I'm renting a flat from one of the German fellows (he is spending the next two months in Atlanta and New York) in a nice neighborhood called Nordend, where the century-old buildings are painted peaceful shades of beige, pink and yellow. It's a bit lonely not having roommates for the first time in years.
As I walked to the subway station today, an old lady in a wheelchair was slowly rolling herself backward along the sidewalk, singing loudly and cheerfully in German. A strange sight, but it made me smile.
Now I'm at my desk at Reuters, where I'll be spending the next two months. I don't know enough to be very useful yet, unfortunately -- I hope that will change by the end of my time here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)