Five European Faux Pas

1. Attending a charity bazaar at the French ambassador's residence in an army-surplus jacket from the Federal Republic of Germany, flag arm-patches and all. (In Dublin, no less; coincidentally, Eamon de Valera was the only head of state in the world to mourn Hitler's suicide in 1945 - he went to the German mission to offer his condolences in person.)
   
2. Asking a Volkswagen employee in Wolfsburg if a marketing strategy that relies on phrases like "Think small," "It's ugly but it gets there," "Nobody's perfect," and "Lemon" doesn't smack just a little bit of ressentiment and the twisted inversions of Judeo-Christian slave morality.
   
3. Laughing out loud at Sasha Cohen's crude skewering of Third-World anti-Semitism, during a viewing of Borat in Berlin. (Also, not laughing at loud at the rather puerile set-piece with out-of-shape, naked, hairy men brawling in a hotel.)
4. Playing the spoons, as Mephisto, to accompany an indie-folk cover of Gretchen's lament (auf Deutsch, natürlich). Fortunately, I was not called upon to sing back-up.
   
5. Not keeping in touch as often as I should like. I will soon be finished with my last Stanford finals ever, and perhaps will get the chance to be more reflective and/or communicative. Hugs and kisses for each and every one of you across the patient ether, across these piddling ponds that separate us.