Do you remember O. Henry’s short story of young love, “The Gift of the Magi?” In it a poor couple barely in their twenties and madly in love secretly sell their most prized possessions for the money to buy the other a Christmas gift. The man, played by John Ritter, sells his watch to buy a set of combs for his wife’s gorgeous hair, and his wife, played by Suzanne Somers, sells her hair to buy a chain for his watch. Just add Mr. Furly and oh, what a mess we have here!

In washingtonpost.com this morning I read an article about the US Olympic Committee’s mandatory cultural etiquette course for all of its Olympic athletes in preparation for their trip to China. This time around the Americans want to avoid any national embarrassments like Bode Miller in 2006. By teaching them how to use chopsticks (hint: one hand holds both), learn basic vocabulary (”xie xie” means “thank you”) and show tolerance of foreign customs, such as a culinary preference for dog, the Committee hopes their athletes will become stellar ambassadors of their country for the next two weeks. After all, have you ever tried dog before?

Meanwhile, Saxony’s own award-lacking Sächsische Zeitung (yes, I still glance at it now and again) ran a piece entitled “Dog meat and nose picking forbidden: Rules of etiquette” focusing on the Chinese authorities’ lengthy efforts to purge their citizens of habits and customs considered rude or vulgar by many international visitors. In a classic example of political correctness gone mad, the Chinese government has spent nearly 2 years training its 1.3 billion people how to speak about approved topics in English, how to stand in lines, how to dress, not to spit, pick one’s nose or dig in one’s ear in public, and, finally, to remove chopsticks and canine cuisine from all restaurants. Infractions of many of these rules come with a fine.

Enter the athletes, armed with cultural sensitivity, chopsticks and a newly cultivated yen for chow chow.

This would be the part of the show where Chrissy’s looking for her poodle while Janet praises an ‘exotic’ meal prepared by Jack, who is rolling his eyes and smirking like a rascal.

Now Chrissy, don’t be angry.

I thought you said wok the dog!

This past weekend, the fourth weekend in a row in which Katrin, Lloyd and I did not spend Saturday night in our own bed/crib, we traveled half an hour north to the small, small town of Großthiemig in Brandenburg near the Saxon border. ‘Groß‘ (or gross) is German for ‘big’. There are many examples in this country of neighboring villages sharing a root name, but discerning themselves by the size-matters prefix Groß- or Klein- (= little). I assume the prefixes are decided based on population. If so, Kleinthiemig, on the Saxon side of the same border, must have zero unemployment, as it would otherwise be difficult to imagine how a village with even fewer residents than Großthiemig (I counted seven as we drove through) could manage to keep even the most basic amenities functioning, like sewage, police, post or local watering hole.

Our friend Sven P. (we know about 17 Svens) held a belated birthday party at his parents’ house. Birthdays are a big deal in Germany, especially the ’round’ ones - those ending in zero. In polite society, responsibility for the success of a birthday celebration lies almost exclusively with the birthday boy or girl. If you spend the evening in a bar, friends and family drink on your dime. If the festivities are held at home, expect to spend the majority of the day shopping, cooking and preparing for the long evening. Younger people have discovered the budget-friendly joys of potluck, but BYOB has not yet become acceptable etiquette - and the guests come thirsty. The cheap and the apathetic can instead opt to sit home alone with a solitary candle planted obliquely in a limp cupcake on their special day, but even they are compelled to provide a good time for all on their ’round’ birthdays if they hope ever to see their friends again.

Sven and his parents thought of everything, even the good weather, and we enjoyed ourselves very much. Here is the proof:

There were plenty of kids

And plenty for them to do

Anyone for tennis?

One for the money…	Two for the show…	Three to get ready…

And away we go!

We grilled by day ... sort of,

And roasted marshmallows by night.

And in general just roughed it in the wild.