conservation of surveillance

Though I am in no position to make some unbreakable Law out of policy or a cache of politically wilting realities, it does seem that disillusionment forgets compromise.
There is no excuse for intense and indiscriminate spying or having one's innocent details scrutinized but at least partially the reform that led to more celebrated departures and commitments to end occupation or torture necessitate some kind of reciprocity elsewhere—that lost intelligence is made up for by details served up on a platter and easily captured. Such give and take, of course, has precedence and may certainly be disabusing but perhaps not the sole basis. I do wonder if such a violation might really change the landscape of America's pseudopodia and make its presence less welcome in defending some indefeasible belief.

muzak or ambiance

One cultural difference that I have noticed due to conditioning and expectation between Hessian and Bavarian Frankonian behaviours is a minor but one that I find myself always walking away from with an experience—the kind that nearly pushes one towards leaving a customer comment card but since it's positive, few bother though the feeling is nagging.

Because of the hectic pace of employees manning the check-out lines back home, I have myself prepared well in advance, ready to hand off the fiat Geld and little cloth bag ready to pack with not more than I could handily manage and a bevy of apologies if I could not keep pace and held up the line. There is a certain regional deftness that was never really rude but lent to this daily sort of transaction a sense of urgency not to waste any more time of this chore than necessary—plus I imagined that this poor youngish class of cashiers were under pressure, the time that cash drawer was open counted, and constantly rated and expected to go back to stocking the shelves when business was slow. The same chains and the same tyranny of barcodes exist of course elsewhere, however, in Hesse there is less rush expected on the part of the customer, with even divided padded and inclinded lanes behind the register for shoppers to collect their purchases and make room for the next customer, like a plinko game. I wonder what these small but forgiving considerations mean in the broader sense. Still trained to gird myself otherwise, I walk away always a little surprised and with a feeling of accomplishment, however coloured by marketing and etiquette.

speaking with forked-tongue

Well, that escalated quickly. In the latest revelations to come out of the NSA scandal, it has been revealed that not only does the American intelligence service snoop on German communications to a much higher degree, the NSA has also utilized America's outposts, within and without, to spy in the old-fashioned sense on European Union institutions.
Not only were the diplomatic safeguards of EU business violated to conduct in the US subject to bugging but also back at home in Brussels by safe-houses within the neighbouring American controlled portions of the NATO Supreme Command. It would not be surprising if all such outposts, the lingering bases and consulates, were not retrofitted for the same purpose, since the attitudes of younger and older veterans remain, Cold War thinking and opinions that judge Germany's immigration policy as too liberal and too forgiving and made the country the locus of the 9/11 terror attacks in some minds. The spying on the EU and Germany cumulatively, however, suggests that America wants to head-off more than terror and anticipate policy and business changes, especially taking into account where such listening-posts are situated. Such a valuable upper-hand is not easily surrendered, despite the shrinking footprint of occupation and its public rationale for staying.

sunday drive: a jury of one's peers or next exit

Seeing that there was going to be a fleamarket in the town of Linsengericht on the way back to my workweek apartment, I decided to stop and find out what there was to discover in that place with the funny name.

Although the name probably refers to a “dish of lentils” like the biblical cookbook for surviving in the wilderness, I had heard of medieval ad hoc tribunals held in other towns and villages in this area in groves—called Zentgericht—and there's another place not far from here called Freigericht, which I don't think suggests something not a la carte. So I took Gericht for its other meaning, court, as in one has the right to trial by jury of one's lentils.

The fleamarket was a sad affair and it seemed that all roads led out of town and to the more picturesque city of Gelnhausen—I did not try very hard and I apologize to the Linsengerichters for not finding all what their town had to offer.
Discouraged I returned to the Autobahn but got off again at the next exit to marvel at Burg Ronneburg, dominating the gently ascending foothills that it lends its name to. The castle, first documented in 1231, played an important role in the protestant reformation for the region but also hosted the persecuted from other confessions, and ownership is still being swapped among royal houses to this day. Next time passing by, I think that this is another place for H and I to explore together.