As you may know, I took a trip to Idstein, Germany in July. I went with my brother, Greg, and our friend Tom to visit Jim, the father of Greg and myself. Below are a few photos from my Flickr stream. Clicking on any photo will take you to Flickr and once there, you can click on the 'all sizes' link to see the large size of the photo. Going to the Flickr stream directly will let you view all of the almost 200 photos.

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One of the lovely ladies to wait on us at the Brauhaus.



( Many more photos of Germany behind the cut )

Off to Copenhagen for a week to attend YAPC::EU. My brother Greg (of Vimeo fame) will be there on Friday and staying for the weekend. This should be a blast.

Getting ready for my trip to Germany tomorrow and will be staying in the little town of Idstein. I'll only be there over the weekend. I'll be watching my brother Greg make a fool out himself at a log sawing contest and seeing my father again. It was supposed to be a a surprise, but someone let the Katze out of the bag. Damn.

Hopefully I'll remember to take pictures. I'm disappointed to be missing OSCON, but this will be a nice consolation prize.

I can't yet say why I'm doing video (it will likely be a few months before I can say anything), but here's a quick video of my brother Greg and myself doing a sound check.



Interestingly, this is the tone of most of our conversations.

I just found out that my brother yossarian69 is moving to West London on Thursday. I knew it would be happening, but I didn't know it would be happening quite this soon. He's going to live only about a mile from my place. This should be great :)

Yesterday's run was 5 kilometers (3.1 miles). That's not too bad, but it's not where I used to be. Still, it's good to be getting back to where I was. I think I'll stick to this run for a while to help avoid injury. I don't need any more shin splints or ankle problems, thank you.

(There was also a pretty serious -- for me -- upper body workout, but I'm convinced I'll always be skinny as a rail up top)

And my (UK) sister and I will be jointly celebrating our birthday this weekend. What the hell do I get her? I always stress about this bit.

This is a rather long post of little interest to anyone outside of my immediate friends. I'm recording it here mainly so that I can write it down immediately after it happened lest I forget too many details.

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This was my first Christmas in twenty years spent with my family. Watching my half-sister, Lynne, introduce her mother and father to one another — only appropriate since they had never met — gave me a sense of just how difficult our family history has been. Of course, while it seems strange to me, it might even seem incomprehensible to the casual reader, so with the permission of the parties I spent Christmas with, I've decided to finally write out what little I know about how this strange situation arose.

Unfortunately, what I do know is often filled with strongly contradictory accounts. Some differences may arise from maliciousness, but most, I suspect (hope?) are merely due to memories fading over time. I'll never quite know the truth of any of this, but I'm close enough to it to be content. Or perhaps I'm merely tired of guessing. Who knows? What follows is what I think happened. Some of you know bits of this, so my apologies for being repetitive (and you might recognize bits I've left out).

( A Family Christmas )

So I started writing a post about my "fantasy" Christmas list. One idea was the idea of buying a bottle of cheap whiskey and a pack of fags for the elderly mother of my long long adopted brother and sister. However, my present list got offensive enough that it offended even me! So I'll just say that after wrapping a few presents for family members, I am having a thoroughly pleasant evening drinking rum and Coke and working on Perl 6. All I can say is that Perl 6 rocks!

  # P12 (**) Decode a run-length encoded list.
  #
  #     Given a run-length code list generated as specified in problem P11.
  #     Construct its uncompressed version.
 
  sub decode(*@list) returns Array {
      gather {
          for @list -> $elem {
              take $elem.isa(Array) ?? $elem[1] xx $elem[0] !! item $elem;
          }
      }
  }
  decode( [4, "a"], "b", [2, "c"], [2, "a"], "d", [4, "e"] ).perl.say;

And if you don't think I'm totally cool, just check out my "current music".

In other news, why the hell do I feel so guilty for not doing more to promote Perl 6?

Probably the most memorable thing said to me in my weekend trip to Scotland was a gentleman saying "I like your cock". He was instantly horrified by what he said, but in the context of the conversation, it was a perfectly innocent comment. However, it's so delicious that I refuse to explain the circumstances. Don't ask because I won't tell.

When my friend Paul invited me along to his weekend trip to Scotland, I was only too happy to accept. However, I confess that I felt a bit odd about it. You see, though I was born in Texas, I was conceived in Scotland. Had my mother not had to leave the country under circumstances I've heard at least three contradictory versions of, I would have been born there. I'm not the sort to attach any mystical import to such an event, but it weighs on my mind all the same. I felt like I was going home, in some nonsensical fashion.

The drive, not surprisingly, was beautiful. This is a rather common sight in the English midlands.

( Many more pictures )

As some of you know, my full name is Curtis Allen Poe (note the middle name is spelled differently than the famous Edgar). I was named after my great-grandfather, Curtis Allen Tom. Naturally, given the last name, I'm constantly asked if I'm any relation. I've always answered "no" because Poe was adopted as a child, never fathered children (that anyone knows of) and died with no known living relatives.

Cut to my paternal great-grandparent's tombstone:

Great grandmother Birdie Poe apparently claimed that we were related to "the" Poe. I knew this was preposterous, but in doing a little digging around, it appears that Poe's mother gave birth to three children and if that's true, my understanding of the situation was wrong. I doubt I'll be able to find anything out over the Web and since Birdie Poe is dead, I can't ask why she thought we were related, but it's interesting nonetheless (in a "trivia" sort of way. It's pretty damned useless).

At work, so this must be brief.

1. Went to Leeds on business yesterday. Their "Mexican" restaurant didn't have tacos or enchiladas. When I commented on this, one of my colleagues asked me what a taco is. And the waitress pronounced "guacamole" with three syllables (wince).

2. Hopefully will have DSL turned on today. Crossing my fingers.

3. Since my brother in Staffordshire posted it, I suppose I can link to his entry with a photo of three brothers (I'm on the left, Staffordshire brother in the middle and London brother on the right).

I'll be in Staffordshire helping my brother celebrate his graduation from college, but I'll try to remember to take photos.

In other news, here's handy list of books you should buy. If you have the slightest clue about me, you know that this is a list of books which people have tried to ban. What sets it apart is that it lists the reasons people have tried to ban them. Much of the following text is lifted verbatim from the Web page, so here are a few examples.

(Yes, I know book titles are supposed to be underlined, but people will think they're hyperlinks and try to click on 'em).

"1984" is "pro-communist".

Har, har, har! Obviously those who tried to ban the book didn't even bother to read the damned thing. Though Orwell definitely leaned to the left and at times supported communism, that is not what this book is about.

"Fahrenheit 451". This one I just have to repeat without comment.

Students at the Venado Middle School in Irvine, Calif. received copies of the book with scores of words--mostly "hells" and "damns"--blacked out. The novel is about book burning and censorship.

"The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe." Macmillan. Challenged in the Howard County, Md. school system (1990) because it depicts "graphic violence, mysticism, and gore."

Mysticism? Hello, Vanna, I'd like to buy a clue.

"Where's Waldo?"

Challenged at the Public Libraries of Saginaw, Mich. (1989), Removed from the Springs Public School library in East Hampton, N.Y. (1993) because there is a tiny drawing of a woman lying on the beach wearing a bikini bottom but no top.

Now I'm really irritated. Seems someone phoned ahead and told the British I'm coming. Shops in the city center generally only remain open while I'm at work. I have this fantasy of me riding the bus home and shop doors getting locked in a continuous wave about 100 feet in front of the bus.

This shouldn't have surprised me as it's actually fairly common in Europe, but it's frustrating nonetheless. There are, as I understand it, historical reasons for this, but those reasons are gradually fading away. First, I'm told that it used to be rather uncommon for people to live in the city center, so there wasn't as much call for shops to be here. Second, the male traditionally worked while the female did the housework. Thus, she had plenty of time (ha!) to go out and shop during the day. The shopkeepers, too, wanted to go home in the evening and this arrangement worked out well for all concerned. (Please chime in if you have a better knowledge of the background here.)

( Tesco, my Hero )

Perhaps what most intrigues me about the UK are the inevitable cultural issues which will arise. Culture, when viewed without context, can be a curious thing. I've had women get very upset with me for holding a door open because I'm being patronizing to women. What??? I could equally argue that women in the deep South were the ones in the wrong for expecting men to run around and open doors for them. Give me a break, folks. Culture is culture and so long as all parties are consenting, no harm, no foul.

While culture is frequently exhibited in behavior (I still don't feel comfortable wearing a hat indoors but it's no longer universally considered rude), more often than not, the issues arise through language. When my brother in London told me he was getting pissed, I felt very uncomfortable until I realized he was "getting drunk". When I first moved to the Pacific Northwest, I couldn't help but laugh the first time a lady offered me a "pop" because I was used to little kids referring to "pop" and adults referring to "soda". I heard a grown woman talking like a little child.

Perhaps one of the worst issues with culture arose in Texas when I first realized that my friends' use of the word "nigger" was offensive. Vowing to not be a racist, I altered my vocabulary to show proper respect. This shocked my mother. She, to her credit, informed me that the word I was looking for was "black", not "negro". That I could have thought "negro" was acceptable tells you a lot about Texas culture (and perhaps why so many Texans like Bush).

I hugged Roger and Carolee goodbye last night. Due to scheduling difficulties, I might not see them before I leave. In fact, I might not see them again. The night before, I hugged Silke goodbye. That was tough. I love Silke dearly and she's a wonderful friend but I might not see her again, either.

A few days ago, I filled my car with gas, realizing that it was the last time that I was feeding this loyal beast. At just under 100,000 miles, she's never let me down. I've cared for her tenderly and fixed her few ailments and she's rewarded me by taking me hither and yon without complaint. Now I'm selling her to Schwern and it almost feels like betrayal.

I just bought my last bag of coffee beans over here. I walk by buildings and wonder if I'll see them again. I don't remember going through this years ago, when I moved to Amsterdam. But then, I wasn't a regular blogger at the time and this pseudo-memory wasn't available to me.

Unlike my rather disastrous adventure in Amsterdam, I've prepared carefully this time. All of the legal "t"s and "i"s are crossed and dotted. I've carefully built a solid resume, continuously improved my craft and blogged relentlessly with the intent of keeping my name out there. I volunteered for the Perl Foundation, wrote articles and, by a curious stroke of luck, have my name on the cover of a book.

It's not blind luck, though. Lady Luck has keen eyes and if you keep working at something, breaks come your way from time to time, so long as you're paying attention. And I have. Years of dreaming and always keeping this possibility in the back of my mind have paid off; I'm moving to the UK. I'm also getting rid of most of my possessions and have already started thinking about how my retirement will work out, decades from now. That will probably be my next big goal.

But what's a goal? Why do we have them? Many folks think that their purpose in life is to achieve their goals. They're wrong. Once you achieve your goals, then what? Is it time to die? No! They have it backwards. Their goal in life should be to follow their purpose and each person's purpose is to understand their driving needs and pursue them with integrity.

My driving needs are adventure, learning, and challenging assumptions (rebellion, if you will). Those are a dangerous combination and if I didn't know what they were, I'd still follow them, but perhaps in an unhealthy manner. How many people, not consciously understanding their driving need for adventure wind up cheating on a spouse? If they consciously knew that adventure was so important to them, there are plenty of ways they could satisfy this need without being dishonest.

Others have different driving needs. Some need security or comfort (and not in the Maslow's Hierarchy sense) and find themselves too timid to take risks. Others have a driving need for justice and that, particularly when combined with a sense of adventure or rebellion, can lead them to do stupid things. Witness the Earth Liberation Front.

So my needs for adventure and learning have led me to pursue moving to Europe with a focus which has surprised me. It took me years to find my brother; it's taken me years to move to Europe. Anyone familiar with me knows that I'm often not a good "long-term project" kind of guy. I have a huge library of partially read computer books. I have tons of unfinished software projects on my computer. I have a screenplay I should rewrite but probably won't. But somehow I've pulled it all together enough to relentlessly pursue Europe.

The beast of my purpose, however, is only temporarily sated. It's gorging itself on the prospect of new adventure and learning but my rebellious streak is a separate creature altogether and it's one I've not entirely tamed. If anything will be my downfall, it's the latter.

I have just over a week left in the US and most of that time will be spent with Sean and Lil, the two people in my life who mean the most to me. They're both brilliant and wonderful people and leaving them is going to be the most difficult part of all of this. I don't mean that to slight the others who are close to me, but without Sean and Lil, gallivanting off to a new life would be much easier.

I'll keep blogging and letting people know what I'm up to. I'll read your blogs and keep track of your lives. I'll miss all of you -- a phone call or a blog entry isn't the same -- but I'll make new friends, too. Life is going to get very interesting soon.

Ich verstehe nur ein bisschen Deutsch: "I only understand a little German."

Given that two of my best friends, pdx42 and coradee, are fluent in German, as is my father (who's lived in Germany for the past two decades, I might add), it seemed only natural that I should want to learn the language. There's really no reason I need to learn the language, though, other than a love of learning. Still, being trilingual can't be a bad thing.

I purchased the Pimsleur "German in Ten Days" course. Having already learned French, I'm not so naïve as to believe that I'll be speaking German in ten days but hopefully I'll pick up enough to be able to terribly embarrass myself.

Feeling rather nervous about this, I wasn't planning on telling coradee since she's German and I was certain I would butcher the language, but I had dinner with her last night and had some questions about pronunciation which I couldn't exactly ask the Pimsleur course. Fortunately, she informed me that my pronunciation was excellent, so there were no worries there.

I'm rather torn about the Pimsleur course. Since it focuses exclusively on spoken German, there are no written materials. I'll not be able to read or write German while I'm learning to speak it. On the plus side, it means less of a distraction and I can focus on the spoken part more readily. Still, it would be nice to have transcripts. The word for "only", nur, sounded like "nua". When spoken quickly the distinction is subtle and can be lost. I had to look the word up since I couldn't quite hear what was being said.

The introductory course is a series of ten half-hour lessons. The course promises that I can "spend just thirty minutes a day on each lesson." Uh, nein. That's a crock. I'm doing one lesson a day (I'm on lesson four today) and I have to repeat each lesson four or five times to get it down. Maybe I'm a bit slow, but unless one is phenomenally gifted, I doubt anyone is going to get by on a half-hour a day. I knew that "spend just thirty minutes a day" was a lie when I picked it up, but it still irks me that they would be deliberately deceptive.

Assuming I finish the ten lessons and feel comfortable, I'm going to buy the "Pimsleur German Level 1" course. It's thirty lessons and should give me a good start.

Auf Wiedersehen.