Consulate adventures.

I got there right at 9 - would have been earlier but went
on a wild goose chase for a Fotoautomat - every station
has one, but every one I saw was out of order. I eventually
gave up and headed straight there, taking the subway to
Oskar-Helene Heim and walking back a block toward the city.

The place has a fortress aspect and is guarded by some
rent-a-cops who, once they finished being fascinated by
a bunch of silly rules, were pretty helpful. I described
the situation and was led to the front of the line (most
people were looking for visas, so they were being given a
difficult time, and I'm betting it's going to get harder.
But I was in there pretty quickly and out a couple minutes
after 10 (the English of the guards gets better as you run
the gauntlet, and the one closest to the entrance is in
fact English English). It didn't hurt that I had done all
the paperwork, which got riffled through, and I was given a
half-hearted grilling and then was told to come back at 2.

Back to the hotel, took a bit of a walk as it was a somewhat
nice day, then back at 2 (the guard remembered me and let me
in early), and got this cute little one-year passport along
with an application for a free renewal (since I'd already
paid full boat).

Afterward I was kind of hungry, and there was this pizza
stand at the S-Bahn station that smelled pretty good.
Well. They probably spray pizza smell from an aerosol can.
The actual slice was almost completely tasteless, rather
like what you might have got back 50 or 60 years ago if
your mother was short of cash and sense and bought a box
of instant pizza for a dime or two at the supermarket
(this actually happened to me, once, around 1960).

As I'd budgeted all day for this, and it was 2:30, and
dinner at Hans-Erich and Christiane's was set for 7, I rode
the buses around and rubbernecked a bit. I've done the 100
and 200 tourist buses in the past, but riding the local
ones through the neighborhoods can be kind of interesting.

Over the years, I've stayed a few times with Hans-Erich
and Christiane, but she has a nephew using the spare room
at the moment, hence the hotel thing.

We started with a pleasantly biting Touraine Sauvignon
Blanc without so much pee in it - actually a lot of
tropical fruit aroma and some glycerin to balance out
the natural acidity. It was a pleasant but squash-heavy
meal; I was told that it was vegetarian day in the
rotation, how lucky was that, it happened only once
a week or so.

A curried pumpkin soup was quite good, something you
might see in a house-and-garden-type magazine. The
secret, and the saving grace of the dish, was that it
had been made with chicken stock.

The Meyer-Nakel Spatburgunder 2005 was very savory,
with plenty of spicy notes to go with the ripe (but
fading) fruit. A mature wine and a good match with
veggie food.

The next course was spaghetti with roast tomatoes,
carrots, olives, and zucchini. Mmm. I choked down my
serving of zucchini thinking "what a good boy am I"
and was rewarded by more. I sat back and thought of
England.

A shredded romaine salad with honeydew and avocado
was welcome relief.

Florida brand chocolate rum raisin ice cream was on
offer, and I demurred, saying I'd had enough food,
but Hans-Erich said that this ice cream company was
the only redeeming feature of Spandau - apparently a
grim town where he had been the chief of the psychiatric
department of the local hospital. After hearing that
recommendation I relented and accepted a small taste,
which was indeed quite good.

Noting my relatively nondairiness, Christiane sprung
to and made me a bowl of fresh raspberries and sliced
pear, garnished with some incredibly sweet Pinot grapes.

We talked unto the large hours, and Christiane said
good night as she had an early day, and Hans-Erich and
I chatted unto the small hours. My hotel was locked up
when I returned, but luckily there was someone in the
office to let me in.