Every summer Regensburg is home to countless festivals. This is not news. I imagine someone somewhere — probably an American and his native colleagues — is having this discussion.
| Random Coworker, Neigbor, Etc.: | “Are you going to the chess fest?” |
|---|---|
| Ami: | “Mmm, probably not.” |
| RCNE: | “Oh, that’s too bad. It will be hard to avoid; it’s happening all over town.” |
| Ami: | “Wow, that’s some commitment. My great-grandfather tried to teach me to play once, but I quickly lost interest.” |
| RCNE: | “But you can still appreciate it just by listening to it!” |
| Ami (thinking): | Holy cow, I’d rather watch golf on TV than listen to that! |
| RCNE, reading eyebrows raised in alarm: | “Ja, I never miss it. Especially the sax soloists — they’re my favorite.” |
And with a nearly audible click, the light bulb goes on.
I freely admit it; the above exchange never happened to me personally. But I have had countless similar exchanges, even ones in German, that get derailed by pronunciation. I’m pleased to say it’s *usually* not mine at fault.
While on the way to breakfast at Kaminski today with Tommy and Natasha and Matthias with Sarah, I noticed a huge upsurge in white pants. So I guess summer’s here. I decided to snap some of them. All of these were taken while seated at Kaminski observing the passers-by.
