Vol. 1, No. 5 — “Thank you for waiting, this time of year is so busy with everyone trying to land a Fall birthday. First of all, great news: all three of the embryos are viable! One will have blue eyes and the other two green. One of the green-eyed candidates has a predisposition to Alzheimer's but will be in the 95th percentile for height and lean muscle mass.

We will edit out the Alzheimer risk of course but the rest is up to you. Let us know your preference on stature and eye color, then we’ll move through any catalog options for appearance and intellectual capacity you’re interested in.”

While the world wrings its collective hands over the implications that highly intelligent computers may have on us in the future, a quaint little technology named CRISPR has been making headways since its invention in the early 2010s. Never heard of it? It’s a programmable genetic editor which works on living organisms. Yeah, that old chestnut.

CRISPR stands for Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats. That doesn’t mean anything to me either and it doesn’t really matter. Unless you’re a genetic biologist, any technical article about CRISPR is basically inscrutable. Let’s stick to the basics: what can it do and what makes it special?

First of all, genes are just sequences of DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid), a molecule that is unique to every living organism. Some of these sequences are short and some are long. There are different ways to measure it but humans have about 20,000 genes.

DNA consists of only four different ingredients: adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine and we represent those with the letters A, G, C, and T. Everything that has ever lived can be represented by a (very) long series of these four letters. Human DNA is several billion letters in length. While that sounds big, it’s still less than one gigabyte of data.

This makes DNA our “software” so to speak. But where a computer is programmed with ones and zeroes, we are programmed with A, G, C, and T. In some circles, it’s referred to as “wetware”, the software of the body. If we have blue eyes, that specific piece of our DNA code might read “GATCC” but if our eyes are green it reads “GACTT.” The same goes for our metabolism or our ability to fend off the flu, etc. These are all represented by sequences of letters in our DNA.

Now, wouldn’t it be nice to be able to modify bits of DNA to elicit some desired change? Like eliminating a person’s predisposition to Parkinson’s? Or erasing male-pattern baldness? Science has been pursuing this goal since the 1960s with initial successes in the 1970s. However, the methods developed were highly specific, always targeting a single gene to modify for a single purpose. Every time a new gene was targeted, a completely new method needed to be devised. This is like building a new computer from scratch for every application you want to run. It can be done, but it doesn’t scale. Enter CRISPR.

Jennifer Doudna and Emmanuelle Charpentier invented CRISPR in 2012 while researching how bacteria fight off viral infections. They noticed that a certain type of protein, Cas9, would cut and modify DNA structures in the bacteria to remember which viruses it had seen before. Then they figured out a way to instruct the actions of the protein. After that, nature takes its course. Unleash a pre-programmed CRISPR-Cas9 payload into some cells and you can do whatever you want with their DNA.

CRISPR can be programmed to recognize any specific gene sequence and replace it with a different sequence. It is a general tool to modify DNA and does so with extreme precision. Previous methods could replace sequences successfully but would always modify unrelated codes inadvertently. Not desirable, to say the least. No one hires a home renovation crew that does excellent work on kitchens and living rooms but will always accidentally turn another random room into a reptile terrarium.

Their invention netted them the Nobel Prize but also ignited a huge ethical debate around genetics. Having advanced in capability much quicker than expected, they themselves called for a moratorium on its use in 2015. Debate increased but work continued. In 2018, it was announced that two babies were born with CRISPR-modified genes. The biophysicist behind it had modified the DNA in twin girls to immunize them against HIV. One of their parents was an HIV carrier and had given consent to perform the procedure. The scientist involved in the HIV case went to prison. Little is known about the children’s health.

In 2019, the scientific community called for another moratorium. Now, more specifically, on editing heritable traits. Editing one human’s DNA should not be passed on for generations. This is an important distinction as well to the work that made the COVID-19 vaccines possible. These operated on mRNA. RNA is not permanent. DNA is.

Outside of humans, what else has CRISPR been used for? It was used to modify tomatoes so they had higher levels of GABA which can lower blood pressure. It was also used to decrease leptin in a species of fish. Leptin is a hormone that signals the brain when you’re full. Without it, the fish grew much larger than they normally would. Both of these products have been for sale in supermarkets since 2021.

Many other examples exist where CRISPR was used to eliminate disease susceptibility in a certain crop or increase its resistance to cold or heat, etc. In general, to make better use of resources and increase the profitability of crops.

So how close are we to designer humans? Well, the fictional example up top contains less fiction than you think. Fertility clinics are already sequencing the DNA of viable embryos to let you pick eye color and screen for things like Downs syndrome. Now, editing the embryos? That’s still a ways off…at least through official channels.

The beautiful thing about CRISPR is also what makes it a bit scary. It’s quite easy to use. Research labs around the world now have a reliable tool to research cures for genetic disorders. For example, treatments using CRISPR are already available for sickle cell anemia. Patients with this disease currently have a life expectancy of less than 55 years. There are cancer treatments in the works. Neurodegenerative disease treatments and the list goes on. The upside is tremendous!

The real question is: how long before we have DIY DNA kits? Like a chemistry set from the toy store. The instructions might not show you how to build anything dangerous but if all the ingredients are there, it’s only a matter of time.

Vol. 1, No. 4 — On November 18, the most powerful rocket ever constructed was launched from a sleepy peninsula on the US/Mexico border in southern Texas. By one calculation, it produced over 40 million horsepower during the first second of full burn, enough to raise the 11,000,000 lb vehicle about 25 feet off the ground.

After clearing the launch tower, it accelerated to nearly 15,000 mph and reached an altitude of 485,000 feet in just over eight minutes. A few seconds later, its control systems decided to self-destruct the vehicle after guidance failures.

This is only the second flight for SpaceX’s full Starship design and it bested the first flight’s performance in every aspect. But, predictably, headlines about the event were decidedly negative: Musk’s rocket blows up again.

Let’s take a look at SpaceX’s progress with a bit of context. We should be jazzed about how quickly space travel and transport are becoming a reality.

Ten years ago, all rockets were single-use. “Rockets are impossible to land” was the generally accepted opinion. Makes sense too: how do you even go about landing a wingless silo tumbling back from the edge of space? Turns out, it was unthinkable before computers caught up to the task. The calculations and sensors involved have so many different variables to consider, that it was impossible to design a solution in advance. It had to be honed by an artificial intelligence.

In 2015, after many attempts and several near successes, SpaceX successfully landed their Falcon 9 booster. They managed to stall the 135 ft long rocket and flip it around 330,000 ft above the Earth, then power it back to the launch site. It comes in pretty hot, about 5,000 mph. So it fires again to scrub down to subsonic speeds. And then again, at the very last second to land the 50,000 lb vehicle undamaged and upright. The ultimate egg drop test. Oh, and this is done with such accuracy that the rocket legs don’t deviate more than 30 ft from their intended target. That’s quite the trick. A trick they’ve now pulled off nearly 250 times. So often, it’s old hat.

Now the Falcon 9 is not a “super heavy lift” launch vehicle. It can only put 41,000 lbs into orbit. A super heavy distinction means at least 110,000 lbs. The Saturn V which took us to the moon could heave 311,000 lbs into orbit. This was the most powerful rocket ever flown and held that title for over 50 years. Until Starship. Starship is rated to carry over 440,000 lbs into orbit on crewed missions and over 660,000 lbs when operating autonomously.

Did SpaceX just strap a bunch of Falcon 9s together to achieve this? No, but they did try that too. It’s called the Falcon Heavy, uses three boosters, and still only reaches 141,000 lbs to orbit. So how did they now nearly 5x that result? SpaceX started from scratch on Starship. They threw away their workhorse and designed a new system from the ground up.

Starship is 400 ft tall and 30 ft wide, nearly three times as large across both dimensions compared to the Falcon 9. Its body is made of cheaper stainless steel instead of a complex aluminum alloy. And perhaps most importantly, it uses a brand new engine, the Raptor, moving away from the ultra-reliable Merlin engine used in Falcon 9.

The Raptor is an engineering marvel. It produces twice as much thrust as the Merlin. Its chamber pressure is a record-setting 5,100 psi, blowing away Merlin’s 1,400 psi. Now maybe those numbers don’t mean much to everyone but here is one that should: how many engines does each vehicle use? The Falcon 9 uses, unsurprisingly, nine Merlins. Starship has 33 Raptors. Thirty-three engines, each of which weighs 3,500 lbs. A total beast.

What is this beast for, though? Well, it has one metric that hardly any other super-heavy launch vehicle has: payload capacity to Mars orbit. Starship wasn’t designed to just slingshot satellites into orbit. It was designed to deliver heavy payloads to Mars and the Moon. It was designed to allow us to build infrastructure on other heavenly bodies and do so with full reuse like the Falcon 9 so these missions are affordable.

So important was this objective for the design that the new engine burns a completely different fuel as well. It uses liquid methane and liquid oxygen also known as methalox instead of the more traditional RP-1 fuel used on the Saturn V and Falcon. Why? Methane and oxygen are much easier to produce on Mars than highly refined kerosene, the basis of RP-1. Some say that travel to Mars will be a one-way trip, either due to danger or expense. Could be. But it definitely will be if we can’t make any fuel once we’re there. Same goes for the choice to use stainless steel. Much easier to produce.

Seeing all 33 engines light up on Starship and rocket away from Earth last week was a huge moment for me personally. I herded my four-year-old, Nikola into the living room to watch it. I’d imagine, by the time he’s fortysomething like me, all of it will seem quite quaint. We’ll nearly certainly have a Moon base and a Mars base. But will we already have a hotel up there somewhere? I’m already saving my pennies to take a trip. Forget the retirement Winnebago, let’s check out the neighborhood!

Vol. 1, No. 3 — It had become common practice. A slightly degrading but ever-so-necessary ritual before the start of any in-person competition. A quick wave of an oval wand across the ears, once up the back of the neck, and then a neon pink beam of light into each eye. Done. No leaks or bugs. From chutes and ladders to blackjack to chess, each participant has to be sure they are playing against another human. Well, against another human mind at least.

Computers have been really good at games for quite a while. Already in 1952, a tic-tac-toe simulator was programmed which could play perfectly against a human opponent. The computer it ran on filled an entire room and required 11 kW of power to operate.

To get an artificial intelligence to “play a game perfectly” is also called “solving” the game. It can play a game at the highest possible human level and will never make a mistake because it already knows every possible game. There are 255,168 possible games in tic-tac-toe. If you go first, you have 131,184 ways to win. If you go second, there are only 77,904 ways to win. A draw occurs in 46,080 additional cases.

Those are already pretty big numbers for such a small game, right? A quarter-million different games from nine positions with two different pieces? It’s surprising. But computers are great at this kind of task. They know every possible game and look up a path to the next best move which leads to a win.

What about Connect Four? It also involves two different pieces but the grid is 6x7, not 3x3. So we’ve increased from nine to 42 positions. Maybe five times more complex? Not quite. Connect Four has 4,531,985,219,092 possible games. It’s nearly 18 million times more complex than tic-tac-toe.

Computers can still easily play a perfect game of Connect Four. Even at 4.5 trillion combinations, it’s well within their reach. And checkers? Checkers has 500 quintillion possible games. Still solvable. If you play against a computer, it will just look up which game it’s in and know the next best move.

But what happens when we cross the line into games so complex that we cannot know all possible outcomes? Chess is one such game. It is estimated to have between 100 quindecillion and 100 quinvigintillion combinations. Those are unimaginably large numbers that flirt with the number of atoms in the known universe. The computer can no longer know beforehand which move is best. It needs to decide independently. It needs to learn to play the game.

In 2010, a little research lab in England named Deepmind showed up to help do just that.

Previous attempts to “teach” a computer a certain skill, such as playing a game, required the programmers to explain all the rules of the game, known strategies, etc. Deepmind built a new system that enabled the computer to learn by doing. Their program would play a game over and over and eventually got better after thousands and thousands of rounds. And here’s the kicker, it wasn’t built for a single specific game. It was a general game playing intelligence.

By 2013, their gaming AI could play a handful of classic Atari games (think Space Invaders, Pong, Breakout) at superhuman levels. In 2020 they announced that it had now surpassed human performance on 57 Atari games. It had learned how to play games in general and done so simply by playing them.

Now the world has seen successful chess computers at this point. Already in the late 90’s the famous matches between Garry Kasparov and IBM’s Deep Blue computer proved that AI could topple even human grandmasters. However, Deepmind set their sights on unconquered territory: the game of Go. They would use their self-learning technology to build an artificial intelligence capable of beating the Kasparovs of Go.

The game of Go is infinitely more complex than chess. Add a couple hundred zeroes to the number of possible moves in chess and you’re getting close to the complexity of Go. It’s wild.

There were several versions and improvements to Deepmind’s technology to accomplish this but in 2016, their AlphaGo system beat world champion Lee Sedol in a series of five games. Lee Sedol is a 9-dan ranked Go player, the highest possible rank in the game. There are less than 200 in the world. This was an incredible outcome. Until this point, the best Go computers in the world could be beaten by amateur Go players. The sudden advancement in computer capability sent shockwaves through the community. It was not expected to happen for another decade. Something truly new had been unlocked.

Self-learning is the natural way to learn. We try something, we see a result, and we learn. We try again. However, once a computer is capable of self-learning, the playing field is tipped very steeply in its favor. It comes down to speed.

A human can get good at chess by playing chess. One estimate to achieve the top rank of Grandmaster in chess places it at an investment of 12,480 hours. So if it were your job, you would play chess for eight hours per day, five days per week, 52 weeks per year for six years to reach that level. Now how long would that take a computer?

The Deepmind computer began with no information about chess at all, only being told if it had won or lost a game. In nine hours it had played 44 million games against itself and learned enough to play at a superhuman level. Time and experience have a different relationship when it’s a silicon brain doing the thinking.

So far these “general” intelligence agents have still been limited to related tasks. But what happens when they become truly generalized? What happens when we have a single AI that can play chess, write a song, file your taxes, be your therapist, and tell you how to cook a mean omelet? That’s not AI, it’s AGI: Artificial General Intelligence. Once we crack AGI, the singularity may be peaking around the corner.

The ability for a computer to learn anything nearly instantaneously walks the thin line between exciting and terrifying. Good thing they’re tied to our desks and power outlets, right? As long as no one loads this stuff onto a robot or a drone we’ll be fine. Wait…what’s that? You did what now? Oh boy…

Hello Dear Subscriber,

Since Midwestern Europe: Vol 1 was published, many things have been happening behind the scenes. Here is a quick rundown of what’s up:

• The final entries for Midwestern Europe: Vol 2 have been written and are being prepped for the publishing process.

• As they move through the editing phase, I will start posting them here as well. New content for all you lovely people who purchased the book! A heartfelt thanks to everyone who did that. It has been so much fun hearing about people receiving the finished product.

• Volume 1 content will be resume publication weekly to catch up the archive.

• Finally, I’ve moved the site from midwestern.eu to michaeliedema.com so I can publish different subject matter as needed.

• What kind of subject matter? Well…it’s a new set of columns about the future and I call it Singularity Dispatch. The full announcement will be sent tomorrow. I’m pretty excited about it and wanted you to know it’s from me, not some beep boop garbage spam bot.

That’s it. Thanks for your time. Hopefully you’re having a lovely fall day.

Regards,
—Michael

Vol. 1, No. 2 — Yes, the light was red. Yes, you were a bit distracted but wow that was a fast yellow. No, it didn’t really endanger anyone. And now, a minute later, it looks like you got away with it. No harm, no foul. Lesson learned for another day.

But wait, what’s that?

Those familiar red and blue lights, approaching with some urgency from behind. You know the routine: pull over, engine off, dome light on, and hands on the wheel. Some things never change.

The officer approaches your window and asks your name. As soon as you respond, you can just make out a tiny green light as it briefly flashes behind her sunglasses. “Is this your vehicle?” “Is it insured?” “Where are you going?” Each time a little green flash after your answer.

But then, the formalities are over. “Do you know why I stopped you?” You hesitate, unsure if she actually saw the infraction. An orange glow starts behind the glasses and she slowly reaches up to squeeze a button on the brim of her hat, never breaking eye contact. “Did you run a red light?” A small chime sounds and she moves on to the next question before you can answer. And the next. And the next. Each more specific than the last.

Then with a bit of whiplash, she thanks you for your time and is gone, back in her car and driving off. As the patrol car disappears around the corner your bank notifies you of a $215 transfer to the local authorities: THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.

Humankind has been able to read minds since 1875. Only rabbit, monkey, and dog brains to start with but then in 1924 the first human mind reading was performed with the invention of the electroencephalograph or EEG. You’ve probably seen one in movies: a hairnet full of wires glued to your scalp with an umbilical cord attached to a briefcase-sized device. As it operates, the electrical signals from your brain are recorded onto a roll of paper.

So can we deduce the thoughts of the person using an EEG? No. Not really. But wait, aren’t EEGs lie detectors? I thought so too but, no. Polygraph machines look similar but don’t read electrical signals from your brain. They instead measure your pulse, respiration rate, blood pressure, and perspiration. Telling lies should cause discomfort and a polygraph is designed to track that discomfort.

The fictional situation above is about withholding information, lie detection, and ultimately genuine mind reading all being accomplished without any physical contact. How much if this is already possible?

Digital cameras have advanced so rapidly in the past decade that completely new uses for them are being discovered. Reading someone’s pulse and respiration rate are two of them. Modern camera sensors can deliver such high fidelity images that it’s possible to accurately track fluctuations in a person’s skin color as their blood circulates. Impossible for the naked eye, these fluctuations previously went undetected. And while we may be able to see someone’s silhouette change as they breathe in or out, it becomes impossible if they’re moving. Not so for a computer. It can estimate someone’s pose and chest shape many times per second. Combine all of this with a forward-looking infrared camera (FLIR) and you get skin temperature as well.

We’re mostly there for our lie detecting Judge Dredd scenario. What about true mind reading? Within the last year, there have been two major breakthroughs in this area. When they were announced, the artificial intelligence and neuroscience communities collectively freaked out. Let’s see if there’s reason to.

In late 2022, a research group from Osaka, Japan published a paper that described how they had reconstructed “visual experiences” from human brain activity. Participants in their study looked at images while hooked up to an fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) scanner. These scanners work by tracking blood flow changes in the brain. Having more blood in an area means it has higher activity than neighboring areas. The scanner data was then fed back through an artificial intelligence model they had developed which generates an image trying to guess what the person saw.

Their results are astounding. The original vs recreated comparisons are jaw-droppingly accurate. And these aren’t the typical Zener cards used in telepathy experiments (think black and white shapes and wavy lines from that famous Bill Murray scene in Ghostbusters). No, these are color photographs of real things like a posed teddy bear, an airplane taking off, a snowboarder doing a trick, etc.

Human views image, we scan their brain, we ask an AI what the human saw, it generates a color image. Incredible.

The other Earth shaker happened in May of this year. In a process similar to the Osaka visual group, a team in Austin, Texas developed a method to turn brain scan data into speech. And unlike the Japanese imaging group, it wasn’t limited to a single word or sentence that the participant had heard. It managed to create continuous speech for extended periods of time. In addition to recreating the words a person was hearing, it also worked on original imagined speech. When the subjects were recorded as they watched silent films, it even generated a logical narration for what was happening on screen. The research group believes they’ve stumbled on something deeper than language which is hidden in our brains.

A couple of gotchas and a reassurance. These most recent breakthroughs require an MRI machine which is room-sized and not very budget-friendly. Work is being pursued to achieve these results with more portable equipment such as fNIRS (functional near-infrared spectroscopy) but has so far been unsuccessful. It simply can’t measure deep enough into the brain. Also, they have only been tested on a limited population. Perhaps their results are not as effective as we think. Oh and in case you’re worried: participation is always required. Attempting to read a subject’s mind against their will failed spectacularly.

Now Webster defines telepathy as “communication from one mind to another by extrasensory means.” That doesn’t necessarily mean paranormal woo woo charlatans. We may not be able to directly sense someone else’s brainwaves but they’re there and we’re starting to accurately interpret what they mean. As Arthur C. Clarke so famously wrote: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

Imagine a slightly different scenario than our opener: you running the red light has caused an accident and the victim is on their way to the hospital aware but unable to speak. The EMT can ask “Can you hear me?” “Do you want me to call someone?” “That’s your mom?” “What is her number?” The victim can communicate. They can be reassured.

Extend that for all neurodegenerative diseases. All stroke victims. Anyone with speech difficulties. The medical applications alone convince me of the value of this kind of research. The future is not inherently dystopian or authoritarian. To me, it will be magical.

Vol. 1, No. 1 — The future is going to be extremely weird and will arrive way before we’re ready for it.

This being the opening line of a new set of columns, I wanted to punch it up a bit with some slick synonyms. For “weird” you find things like “unnatural” and “eerie.” You could also pick “spooky” or “uncanny” but I don’t think they’re accurate. It’s just going to be really really weird.

Example from the present: it’s probably weird to someone born in the late 20th century (umm…1982) how we listen to music now. Back in the day, the most direct route to hear your favorite song might be to call Magic 93 and convince John Ford to play it or hope Mr. Kasem already had it on his countdown. If you were really on top of your game, you’d then stand by and hover over the play/rec buttons on your boombox to save a copy for yourself.

Not even 150 years before that the ability to record sound hadn’t been invented. Period. Let alone have that technology available to everyone at a reasonable price. Listen to the music live, make it yourself, or nothing.

Now what can we do? In mid-breakfast-mouthful, we can grunt out a song name, and a speaker in our room will play it in spectacular fidelity. Any song you can think of. Nearly the entirety of all music, ever, as fast as you can say “Hey, ding-dong, play The Safety Dance.” That’s weird!

No? Not weird for you? You’re young and hip? How about if you didn’t have to name the song? What if you could just hum it silently to yourself and your stereo would jump in? Or while brushing your teeth say “Hey, ding-dong, play that song I heard in my dream last night.”

You may be wondering about the title: Singularity Dispatch. The Technological Singularity is an oft-debated idea in computer science and science fiction. There are several versions and interpretations out there but basically, it boils down to what happens when our technology becomes so advanced that we’re not able to comprehend it? And by “we” I don’t mean the users or even the inventors. What happens when we, as a species, become completely outpaced by our own creations? What happens when our technology is capable of improving its own design?

To me, this hypothetical “intelligence explosion” event feels like “the internet” did in the mid-’90s. Back then, I was a teenager pouring over a book by Bill Gates called “The Road Ahead.” It attempted to explain various technological advances in relatable ways. What is digital vs binary? What can using e-mail change for us? Is it better than a fax? What is online shopping? These things were not clear at the time. It was all brand new.

My aim with this series of columns is to do the same for our freaky, inevitable future. How good is Artificial Intelligence (AI) getting? Which jobs may or may not be going away? How many of all these “advances” are truly game-changing and how many are snake oil? (The media plays pretty fast and loose with “AI Armageddon” headlines.) And what external factors are we missing? Remember the recent (and continued) global chip shortage? It's pretty hard for the disembodied AI voices to take over the world if their silly human day laborers can’t make enough chips or generate enough electricity to keep their brains on.

Also, why does this all seem to be happening so suddenly? An unrelated set of technological improvements has come together in serendipitous ways resulting in a drastic adjustment of timescales. Estimates for certain capabilities have been shortened by decades and then shortened again. We’re already doing things with AI, robotics, energy production, and space travel which were considered pure science fiction a mere 20 years ago.

It’s not the first time this has happened. In 1903, the New York Times wrote “the flying machine might be evolved…in one million to ten million years.” Less than three months later, the Wright Brothers had their first manned flight. In 1910, the opinion was that flight would remain only for the rich and never be faster than a train or car. By the 1930s, commercial airlines with hundreds of thousands of passengers were up and running. Then we orbited the Earth in 1961, landed on the moon in 1969, and three years later it became so mundane that people stopped tuning in to watch it happen.

It goes without saying, I’m no Bill Gates. But I will attempt to bring this high-flying techno hype train back down to Earth. One prediction for the singularity places it before 2045, let’s see how far along that road we are. If not for you, then for me. I mean, how else will I know when to expect my jetpack and flying car? The Jetsons promised us those, you know. Long, long ago!

So what is my first topic? I briefly mentioned what sounds like telepathy a few paragraphs back. That’s what we’re going to look at next week: How close are we to actually reading someone’s mind? And since we’re likely using a computer to help us read that person’s mind: how long until they can do it on their own?

Vol. 1, No. 24 — My supply was good. It was quality American-made stuff. But it began to wane, and soon enough on a trip through Spain, I needed to find some more. Time to go buy some Tylenol.

After canvassing every aisle in a small supermarket, I finally had to buck up and ask someone where I could find the medicine section. Well, there wasn’t one. In Europe, all medicines, even over-the-counter products, are sold in pharmacies.

Off I went to the pharmacy with my trusty native speaker (a.k.a. my future wife) to find some pills. She asked what I wanted and parroted the request to the pharmacist. You could see the wheels spinning for a while before he asked “I think you want TEAL-EN-OHL, right?” Using the Spanish pronunciation rules, yes, that’s exactly what I was after. Mission accomplished.

My experiences with pharmacists in Spain and Germany have varied widely. For the most part, Spanish pharmacists have reminded me more of their American counterparts. If I’m after a specific medicine, they ask some clarifying questions, fill the order, and I’m on my way. As long as I’m not trying to buy prepper quantities of Sudafed, things go swimmingly.

The German pharmacists took a little getting used to. Let me try to convey their shtick with a couple of examples:

ME: Hello. I am going on a trip and need something for jet lag once I arrive. Do you have melatonin or maybe Tylenol PM?

PH: Yes, of course, but have you tried chamomile tea? We recommend chamomile tea.

ME: Good morning. I have had a persistent headache for over a day. Do you have any Ibuprofen?

PH: Yes, of course, but have you tried ginger tea? We recommend ginger tea. Don’t overdo it though, it is quite strong.

ME: Help. I woke up unable to hear and my femur has spontaneously shattered like a CD bent too far. I am the saddest face on the perceived pain scale. What is the strongest medicine you can give me?

PH: *hands over a decorative wicker basket filled with tea leaves* “Oh, and rest well. Rest is very important. Auf Wiedersehen.”

After a few of these interactions, I learned to always explain that I had already tried the natural remedy before seeking such seriously illicit substances like NyQuil or Benadryl. As frustrating as the back and forth could be sometimes, I must admit that the Germans’ approach to health is admirable and there is something to be learned. If drinking a big glass of water can cure your headache, that’s preferable to covering it up with a painkiller. The root problem could be dehydration, so let’s try to take care of that first.

I was once lectured by a pharmacist after requesting more than 20 tablets (the standard generic box size) of sleep aid for a long trip. She had picked up on my accent and accused me and all fellow Americans of treating medicine like candy and not thinking about the consequences. Considering on my last trip to the US I purchased a bucket of 500mg Tylenol for less than $20, she might have a point.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

They were made with much love. Pick up a copy, you won’t be disappointed.

If you’ve been enjoying these entries, please consider dropping by the product page and leaving a star rating based on what you’ve read here. Your investment of a minute or two would totally make my day! Many thanks.

Vol. 1, No. 23 — It seems every American fast-food franchise has found its way to Europe, from the ubiquitous McDonald’s to the unicorn Taco Bell. But while you will see a Domino’s Pizza once in a while, “the Hut” remains elusive. But I found one!

A few days later, I organized a group to go dive into baskets of breadsticks and stuffed crust pizza. We sat down and placed our order. Start the countdown, this is going to be great.

A dozen minutes later, some luster had been lost. They had forgotten the water and hadn’t brought our drinks. I flagged someone down to ask about the water pitcher and their forehead wrinkled up. “Oh, you want a large water to share? What kind?” Now it was my turn to be confused. “Ummm... the watery kind?” I mean, I didn’t expect them to cash in my BOOK IT! award certificates, but some ice water seemed like a low hurdle to clear in the name of Pizza Hut verisimilitude. (That’s a BOOK IT! word, kids. The program works.)

In Europe, restaurants generally do not equip your table with water of any kind unless you request it. And if you request it, they will bring you bottled water by default. You must ask, in hushed tones out the side of your mouth for “some tap water” and confirm with “yes, like, just straight from the wall into my glass like a peasant please.”

In Spain, if you go for the bottled option, you will be asked if the water should be cold or room temperature. This is so common that nearly every venue, be it a coffee shop, bar, concert, or corporate cantina, will offer the option.

In Germany, carbonated water is the default. Unexpectedly downing a few massive gulps of soda water on a hot day is a mistake not made twice. At least it warns you with a hiss when you crack open the bottle.

There is actually a historic reason that Germans prefer sparkling water. In times when the water supply may be contaminated, such as rebuilding post-war, a bottle of sparkling water was guaranteed to be safe and healthy. Tap water couldn’t be so readily trusted.

It is this same concern that led to the dueling faucet situation in Britain. While now it has become less common, there are still plenty of sinks in Britain that have two physically separate faucets for hot and cold water. Cold water was always from a safe municipal supply whereas the hot tap was connected to a potentially less hygienic cistern. If you want something that’s not scalding or freezing but merely comfortably warm, you’ll have to quickly move your hands back and forth between the two streams.

While water continues to have its own diverse norms within Europe, there is one thing that the Old World can agree on. Ice cubes are mysterious intruders from the modern world that should be kept at arm’s length. They’re bad for your stomach, they cause piercing dental agony, they slosh down onto your face at inopportune moments to cramp your style. Obviously, with such a rap sheet, ice is never included and might not even be available.

Only at a bar can you expect ice to be close at hand. But be careful in Spain, the words “hielo” and “helado” are pretty similar but mean very different things. I discovered this when proudly ordering a cocktail “with ice cream please.” The brow-furrowing never stops sneaking up on you when living abroad.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

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Vol. 1, No. 22 — A few days after settling into my student apartment in Germany, it was time to take out the trash. I tied up the plastic bag, brought it to the building’s dumpster, and went off to class. When I arrived home later that evening, I saw the same bag lounging on the ground next to the dumpster with a handwritten note stuck on top. I took the note upstairs and after a short session with my German dictionary decoder ring, I realized what had happened. The sanitation workers heard glass inside and refused the bag.

Germany recycles glass, plastic, aluminum, paper, and organics. What remains after all of this has been sorted out is the only stuff actually considered garbage. It sounds intimidating, but they do make it as easy as possible. What a surprise, the Germans have found a way to efficiently organize such a system.

On street corners at regular intervals, there are different colored bins to put your recycling in. Some buildings have dedicated trash dumpsters, but the recycling containers are out in public.

Paper and cardboard go in the blue bin. There will probably be a sign on it instructing you to break down any boxes so they pack flat. This has a very “be kind, rewind” vibe, and I will admit to not doing this on occasion.

Glass goes into either the green or white bin depending on if it is clear or brown glass. Spain only has a single glass bin as modern sorting systems can deal with this now. Take off the lids and rinse out the containers or else bad karma will come your way.

The yellow bin is for containers made of either plastic or metal. Every pop bottle and soup can in Europe has a little emblem on it to indicate if it belongs in this bin. There is also a container type called a “Tetra Brik” in use all over Europe which goes in here. It feels like a mix between cardboard and plastic and is used for absolutely everything. It has become so synonymous with “container” that people commonly say “get a brik of whatever” from the store.

The last bin is the brown bin. The brown bins smell lovely. It’s a treat to pass by them basking in the hot summer sun, giving off a bouquet of the organic food waste percolating inside. OK, so they’re not usually that bad, but when you find a ripe one it makes an impact. They can be full of coffee grounds and expired bread, or chicken juice and fermented fruit. It’s quite the spectrum.

It all might sound overwhelmingly complex but after a few days of playing pick-the-bin, it becomes automatic. You can also choose to ignore all of it and toss the entire rainbow of waste into a dumpster. Just make sure your jar and bottle noise strategy is on point or it may find its way back to your front door like a haunted Hefty poltergeist.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

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Vol. 1, No. 21 — I present to you yet another brow-scrunching word to stumble over. This little jumble of letters sounds roughly like “OH-SAH-KEY-DEBT-SUH” and is the name of the Basque public healthcare system. Like many things in Spanish Basque Country, the Basques have managed to set their own course. The public healthcare system in Basque Country is completely independent of Spain.

As with all worthwhile things in adult life, there is paperwork to be filed to start your coverage in the public system. It was, however, less than I had imagined. To become a card-carrying member of Osakidetza, I needed to provide: proof of residency in Basque Country, a copy of my Spanish ID, and proof of employment for the past three months. Proof of employment was only needed because I am not a citizen, merely a resident.

After validating and dropping those documents off at a local clinic, I was given a short letter that could be used as proof of coverage if I had any medical needs before receiving my card. I was also assigned a doctor at that clinic and given login information to the healthcare portal to set up appointments, check test results, etc. A few weeks later, my medical card arrived in the mail. It is the size of a credit card with a magnetic strip and my ID information embossed on the front.

My medical history and prescriptions are associated with the card, so everyone involved is kept on the same page. Any pharmacy can dispense the medication I have been prescribed. I receive periodic reminders about checkups and screenings associated with different ages. All-in-all it is quite familiar and boring.

I realize public healthcare is highly political in the US. You can pick and choose metrics to paint any picture you want comparing the vastly different systems. But in the end, how does it feel compared to private healthcare in the US? I would say it is at least as good if not better.

To me, there are two things which really make it feel better. The first is that hardly anything is paid out of pocket. Public healthcare is definitely not free. It is paid for with taxes. However, our tax brackets are comparable to back home, and once your taxes are paid, they’re paid. You are never worried that an unexpected medical cost will come along to derail your life.

The second thing is that coverage is not associated with your job. It’s still bad enough to be let go, but at least you’re not out in the cold health-wise. Changing jobs is also easier to navigate without the “benefits” question hanging overhead.

Basque Country does not have a 100% pure single- payer healthcare system, and we choose to additionally pay for private insurance. To put a number on it, it works out to about $80 per month per adult. This is frowned upon by many people here because they fear a slippery slope to more privatization and eroding quality in the public system. I understand the sentiment but many mechanisms are in place to avoid this.

The public system offers wider ranging coverage. Doctors earn more in the public system. The public system has newer equipment for certain specializations. However, having both public and private gives you some flexibility in facility location, doctor preference, elective scheduling, etc. It is a luxury we are fortunate to be able to afford, but it is not essential. Less than 20% of the population here has any form of private insurance.

You may wonder how private insurance can be so cheap here. It’s not that the insurance is cheap, it’s that there are regulations in place so the medical industry is forced to charge realistic prices. You may have seen that certain operations in the US cost less if you pay cash than if you have insurance? That only makes sense if the prices being charged are completely artificial. An MRI does not cost $1000-2000; that’s just what they can charge your insurance company. We had a completely elective MRI done via private insurance here and it was $22 out of pocket.

Our most expensive public system episode was the birth of our son in 2019. He needed to spend a week in the NICU, was released, then returned to the emergency room a day later with an infection. He stayed another three days in the NICU. Our total cost was about $200 worth of sandwiches, snacks, and parking meters. To me, that’s healthcare. It’s peace of mind.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

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Vol. 1, No. 20 — We’re a few weeks away from the start of Spain’s school year, but we are already gathering our son’s supplies for the first day of his first year of school. He will be 2.5 years old when he walks through the doors in September. School starts later in the year but much earlier in life in Spain.

While I don’t believe he will need a book on orbital mechanics to survive the semester, it was a bit of a shock that public school starts so early. When you look at their weekly agenda though, it’s much more familiar. We would call this daycare or preschool. There are public options for even younger-aged children, but with 2020 being what it was, we were all at home anyway.

Maternity leave in Spain lasts for 16 weeks. Paternity leave is also 16 weeks. If you’re a single parent, you get both! After this period has lapsed though, many families look for childcare options. Anecdotally, private childcare in our area is about $200 to $300 per month depending on the hours you need between 7 a.m. and 4 p.m. While 4 p.m. may sound early as a closing time, Spain also has a law that allows one parent to elect to work a 50–80% day (for 50–80% pay) during the first 12 years of the child’s life so they can get home sooner. The government supplements this pay cut for a while to help cover costs associated with childcare but it is not a directly proportional adjustment.

So, what awaits our little dude once he has passed this preschool age? When he hits six years old, he will enter primary school. It consists of grades 1–6 for kids aged 6–12. Already, during both preschool and primary school, English is taught as a foreign language. This being Basque Country, his classes will not be taught in Spanish but Euskara (Basque). As strange as it may sound, he will be learning Spanish as a subject, like math or history. He will round out his Spanish skills during daily life around town and interacting with family members, etc.

After primary school, there is secondary school which consists of grades 7–10 for kids aged 12–16. This is like middle school plus freshman and sophomore years lumped together, if you line it up with the US system. It is also where mandatory education ends in Spain. But, as in the US, the vast majority continue on to finish high school.

In Spain, the equivalent to the junior and senior years of high school are “the baccalaureate” or “post-16 education”. These final two years are required if you plan to go on to vocational school or college.

I haven’t even attempted to dive into the private school landscape here. It is both impressive and intimidating. Would you like your child to be in a school surrounded by the forest and have access to an Olympic-sized pool and eat homemade meals made from local produce every day? Pay and it’s possible. Would you like your child to be in a school taught completely in American English? Or French? Or German? Or British English? Pay and it’s possible.

We are lucky enough to live in an area with a good school within walking distance. He will be in a class of about 20 kids, and there’s only one class per grade. It is a very small school. No pool. No personal chefs. But Nora and I both grew up in small schools with the same group of classmates for the entire K-12 run, and I think that is why we both feel this is a “good” school. They’ll all get to know Nikola and maybe even eventually, hopefully, be able to pronounce his last name.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

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Vol. 1, No. 19 — Europeans use the euro to pay for things in Europe. There you have it, folks. My work here is done. If I were writing this at any time before 1999, you would be in for a two- or three-parter to cover all of the currencies in use in Europe. This complexity is the primary reason a common currency was adopted; It greatly simplified commerce and travel.

Spain used the Peseta and Germany used the German Mark as their currencies before the introduction of the euro. One euro was equivalent to 166.39 Pesetas or 1.96 Marks when they switched over. The Germans had an easier time converting prices back and forth in their heads when suddenly shopping with euros. The Spanish, not so lucky.

The euro is not in use in all of Europe. Some countries are not members of the European Union. Other countries want to have control over their issuance policies. Regardless of the reason, visiting one of these countries is always an adventure in the same mental gymnastics mentioned above.

On a visit to Norway, which uses the Krone (crown), Nora and I sat down at a pizza place to refuel for more sightseeing. About halfway through the ordering process, we realized that the pizza was going to cost us €33.50 (the equivalent of $35) and each beverage another €8 (~$9). As a couple of students on a very tight budget, this was a comically impossible sum. We had a chuckle, abandoned ship, and apologized our way out the door.

These outliers aside, the euro is used everywhere over here. The coins have denominations of 1¢, 2¢, 5¢, 10¢, 20¢, 50¢, €1, and €2. Some countries have discontinued minting 1¢ and 2¢ coins as they cost more to manufacture than their face value. The bills have denominations of €5, €10, €20, €50, €100, €200.

There was also a €500 bill but it was discontinued in 2019 due to concerns about money laundering and criminal activity. In Spain, this bill was nicknamed “the Bin Laden.” Was this because of its potentially illicit uses? No, it’s because everyone knew they existed but no one could find one.

When I first moved to Europe, I had to buy a different wallet, as euro bills have different sizes depending on their denomination. The first time I put a €50 bill in my wallet, it peeked out the top. This led to a realization a few days down the road: how do blind and visually impaired people distinguish between denominations of paper money in the US?

Coins are a different story for accessibility. They are quite easy to distinguish based on touch in both Europe and the US. However, the States has another quirk here. There aren’t any numerals printed on any of our coins! At best, there is an English word for the number. The penny has “one cent” and the nickel has “five cents” written on their faces. But what does “one dime” mean to the average non-English speaker?

We’ve all seen someone at a store holding out a handful of random coins and the clerk picking out what is needed. A German friend visiting the US for the first time told me he had to do the same thing. He had no idea what any of the coin values were. It’s easy to forget how much shared secret knowledge we all carry around in our daily routines.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

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Vol. 1, No. 18 — In Europe, nearly everyone under 40 speaks English with varying degrees of fluency. Perhaps an oversimplification would be to say the average fluency increases the further north you are. There are exceptions to this rule, of course, but in general, it holds.

In countries like the Netherlands, Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, you can have a fluent conversation in English with nearly anyone you meet, regardless of age. While there are many reasons for this, one of them always strikes me as particularly interesting. In some countries, English-language television programs are broadcast with the original audio but subtitled in the native language. I’m not sure if this is a cultural choice or merely a budgetary decision. Re-recording and dubbing dialog into another language is expensive. Regardless of the reason, it results in a meaningful percentage of the population listening to native English speakers for potentially hours every day.

If you have people from several different countries at a meeting or convention or simply grabbing a coffee, the conversation will default to English. As nearly everyone learns it as a second language growing up, it’s now the common denominator in Europe.

Keep in mind though that it is mostly British English that is being taught. So no one is “swinging down to the coffee shop to grab a donut” but rather “popping over to the cafe for a spot of breakfast.” And if someone asks you where the nearest “hole in the wall” is, they’re not looking for a dive bar. They’re looking for an ATM.

Spelling is also a minefield when comparing American vs British English. It’s almost as bad as hitting your tyre on the kerb while manoeuvring your car at the theatre near the centre of town and travelling back home to analyse your defence and dialogue for the insurance agent.

While in Germany, I moonlighted a bit correcting English papers for other students. Every time I loaded a document up, my Word window filled with an army of red-squiggled words.

As a native English speaker, you will also often be asked questions about the language itself. I must warn you, even though you want to be helpful, it’s perhaps preferable to flee from any and all such requests. If you attempt to give advice, you may quickly lose confidence in your language abilities. People who have studied English as a foreign language have learned the rules behind that language. A native speaker’s knowledge of the rules of their own language usually pales in comparison. You will know something is wrong or right but cannot explain why.

My favorite example of this is adjective word order in English. These are the rules that describe why “the big red car” sounds fine and “the red big car” sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Turns out there is a set order to how adjectives must be placed in English sentences. That order is opinion, size, age, shape, color, origin, material, purpose. You know this by instinct but would never be able to explain it.

Why are all of these countries teaching their students English from a very early age? English is the language of business all over the world. If you would like to participate in that world, you need to speak English. This is an advantage that many native speakers, unfortunately, do not fully appreciate. If you are a native English speaker, you have already cleared a huge hurdle to be able to study or work abroad. If you’re interested in doing either of those, don’t count yourself out. You’re much more prepared than you think.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

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Vol. 1, No. 17 — If you’ve interacted with any Europeans, you may have found them a bit on the rude side. When this topic comes up among friends here, the Europeans usually feel Americans come across as fake. So, who is right and who is wrong? I’ll hedge and say everyone and no one. If you’re an American in Europe, you might come across as fake but what you’re doing is being polite. If you’re a European in the US, you might come across as rude but what you’re doing is being direct.

These two expectations in society, politeness and directness, are at odds with each other. Growing up in South Dakota, it was most certainly politeness that won out. Suddenly living in a place where directness takes a front seat is disorienting.

When I first moved to Germany, I was living with an exchange student who I had met stateside. While out with his friends, all Germans, someone asked if we should stop by a gas station and grab snacks. I didn’t understand a thing. He translated for me and said “Do you want to get something over there?” My response was something like “If we’re going to stop, something to drink wouldn’t kill me.” When they passed by without stopping, I was surprised. I had sent such a clear signal that I wanted to stop, right?

These types of exchanges went on without comment for a few days before he finally said “Hey, if it’s a yes, it’s a yes. If it’s no, it’s no. No problem. I asked what you want, so just tell me.” This is basically what it boils down to in Europe. Tell me what you think; don’t make me decipher it.

A few months down the road at a backyard barbecue, the host asked me if I’d like him to make another bratwurst. I simply answered “yes, please” and that was that. German logic and order. Questions and answers. It kind of does make sense.

People in Basque Country are also quite direct. Within your own family, it’s fair game to comment negatively on the meal being served. The first time I witnessed this, my father-in-law had asked us what we thought of a particular dish. Someone piped up immediately and said, “It’s too salty.”

While I wasn’t concerned that this might start an incident or anything, I was taken aback. However, I was more surprised by my father-in-law’s reaction, which was one of curiosity. He talked about the last time he had prepared the meal and if he’d done anything differently. Someone else chimed in that it seemed almost the same to them. The idea was floated that maybe it was because of the different drinks we were having with the meal.

He’d wanted to know how the food tasted. Some honest feedback was given. He considered it useful and thought about what it meant. The same thing couldn’t happen if he took the feedback too personally or if everyone just said “Oh, this is delicious!”

After being here for so many years, I’ve certainly been influenced by this approach. Whereas before I might have declined a concert invite by inventing an excuse, now I’m more likely to simply say “That band isn’t really my thing.”

One area where politeness and directness have impacted me professionally is meetings. In the Midwest, showing up to a meeting a bit early is on time. That’s polite. In Europe, showing up early is rude.

My favorite anecdote about politeness and directness and meetings in Germany has to be from a German friend. He was working at a German company that had some US investors visiting. His boss had learned that some “small talk” was customary at the beginning of meetings in the US. Wanting to be polite, he made sure to not jump right into business. As the printed meeting agenda was handed to everyone shuffling in, sure enough, right at the top, was the first item: “9:00 to 9:05 – small talk.”

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

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Vol. 1, No. 16 — I’m writing this on a tray table, tethered to my phone for internet access, in the small town of Noja, Spain about an hour away from our home. We are here for a week of vacation outside the usual stomping grounds, but it is also quite familiar. My wife’s family has vacationed here for the better part of 40 years. This sleepy town’s population jumps from less than 1,000 in the winter to more than 50,000 throughout August. Many of them have been returning for years, with the parents, kids, and now grandkids reuniting with their neighbors from years past. It feels pretty special.

While taking a summer vacation is not unique to Europe, the sheer number of people who take them and the concentration around the month of August has some interesting side effects. This home-away-from-home is a positive side effect. The negative one would be, to put it bluntly: don’t plan on getting anything major accomplished in August. Everyone is on vacation.

When school is out and the warm weather hits, it is common to see “summer hours” posted on all types of public services and businesses. Some are only open in the morning (9 a.m. to 2 p.m.). Some are only open Monday to Friday. Many small businesses close for a period of vacation, giving everyone at that store a break: “We’ll be back on the 15th, see you then!”

This is so common in Spain that some jobs pack in a couple of extra hours per week during non-summer months. Then, in July and August, everyone is able to take off in the early afternoon some days. Spain also has a peculiarity in salaried positions. Instead of dividing the year into 12 monthly payments, it is divided into 14. One of these extra payments comes at the end of June to cover summer vacation expenses and the other right before Christmas. Budgeting built in.

I said that Europeans can take a lot of time off, but what does that mean? It means at least a month. All jobs allow for at least four weeks of paid leave by law. This isn’t only for salaried specialists or project leaders or middle management. It’s for all jobs. Not everyone can foot a fancy trip, but everyone can take time off and relax. Paid leave can be taken throughout the year, usually not all at once though. Anecdotally around me, I see a week for Easter, a week and change for summer, and a week at Christmas. Pepper in a few days here and there and you’ve hit the four-week mark.

So, back to August specifically. When I was tasked with laying out a months-long software development project in Germany, my first draft was met with instantaneous derision. My boss waggled his finger across the entire August block and frowned. “Oh, just slide all this back. That’s never going to happen.”

I heard the same thing again and again while planning some small renovation projects for our apartment. There is painting, some carpentry, and a couple of windows involved. Three different companies and three identical conversations.

August is on everyone’s calendar, but it’s just not for work. There’s something nice about that. My Midwestern brain says not to take a vacation just because everyone else is and making a habit of “summering” somewhere sounds like something for Mr. and Mrs. Howell. But practically speaking, with everyone switched off, it just makes more sense to take a breath and join them. No use getting frustrated. Productivity resumes in September.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

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Vol. 1, No. 15 — Men with purses. There, I said it. Let’s not bury the lede here. Any chapter covering fashion in Europe has to address the most common stereotype that Americans have about European fashion. So is “the murse” a common sight on European streets? Indeed, it is. However, it’s probably not what you think.

European guys definitely own and carry more bags than their American counterparts. For the most part, the selection on display is similar to the US: backpacks, messenger bags, etc. But there is a distinctly European option as well. It’s about the size of a fanny pack but worn Rambo style like a bandolier. So the “murse” moniker isn’t really fair. Hardly any guys are walking around with a handheld bag.

These fanny-packs-as-sashes are even more ubiquitous in Basque Country, where both men and women wear them. I personally don’t own one but completely understand the practicality. Because most outings are done sans car, you need to carry a few more items when leaving home. That little bit of extra storage means you don’t have to walk around with stuffed pockets.

Where I live, it’s also wise to always leave your house armed both with sunglasses and an umbrella. As South Dakota is to temperature swings, this area is to storms. Because we’re tucked between some mountains and the ocean, huge pressure differences can build up and result in sudden, quite violent wind and rain. The umbrella is a must-have if there’s even the rumor of an inkling of precipitation, and even though they’ve become impressively small, they’re still not pocket friendly. More reason to join the small-bag crowd.

Before moving to Europe I had never owned an umbrella. I just did a quick tally. We currently have 11 umbrellas in various states of health.

While snow is a rarity here, in Germany it was more common. Whenever walking through some flurries there, I noticed a lot of umbrellas deployed on the street. What for? Well… it seems many Europeans treat snow like rain. It makes perfect sense, water is water. But it feels a bit like overkill. They’re friendly little fluffs of snow. Enjoy them.

It may have something to do with stocking caps not really being a thing when snow isn’t a way of life. Whereas I would wear a stocking cap through most of the cold months out of habit, the Germans preferred a scarf and umbrella.

Scarves are everywhere in Europe. I’m still easily identified as a foreigner for not wearing one during distinctly scarf-weather days. Likewise, if you see someone wearing flip-flops on a cloudy day, they’re probably American or Australian. Germans are easily identified around Europe by looking prepared for a treacherous hike in the middle of the city. If someone is sporting socks in sandals, they’re probably American or German. If you’re at the beach and a guy is wearing a Speedo, maybe Italian, maybe Eastern European, definitely confident. If you see a family strolling around in T-shirts during cold weather, definitely Nordic.

I knew shortly after arriving in Europe that some shocks were in store for me. One came during a break at the research lab. My boss, Vigo, walked in and sat down. Another guy in my project, Sebastian, took a sip of his coffee and said, “Hey, Vigo! Your collar is all messed up.” It was true. Vigo’s polo shirt had one half of the collar standing straight up alongside his face like Dracula’s cloak. Vigo took a glance and laughed. “Oh, thanks. At least you’re good enough to tell me.” He popped the other half of the collar up, double-checked both sides were precisely even and smooth, and got back to his pastry.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

They were made with much love. Pick up a copy, you won’t be disappointed.

If you’ve been enjoying these entries, please consider dropping by the product page and leaving a star rating based on what you’ve read here. Your investment of a minute or two would totally make my day! Many thanks.

Vol. 1, No. 14 — “The most important meal of the day” is the mantra I learned growing up in South Dakota. A quite discordant message in the ’80s and ’90s when it was plastered onto the side of every colorful box of sugar clumps with a mascot. The standard disclaimer being “as part of a balanced breakfast” was equally comical in that all those wonderful breakfasts depicted in the ads would have been healthier if the cereal were simply thrown out the window.

But that’s not the breakfast I’m talking about here. I’m talking about Shorty’s breakfast1. A breakfast where you order the whole page: two eggs, ham, hash browns with cheese, and toast. This was definitely the most important meal of the day for me on select Saturdays growing up.

I quickly learned in Europe that such a breakfast is not easy to find, at least not before noon. The closest analog I’ve found here is in England. But like most things British, it’s similar but just different enough to feel like there may be a hidden camera waiting to capture your reaction.

At a hotel in London, I skimmed the breakfast menu and thought I had found a taste of home. When it arrived, I found my eggs sunny side up and surrounded by baked bean juice. Two fried tomato slices had soaked the potatoes. I picked up a piece of toast and found chunks of blood sausage hiding beneath. So close.

German breakfast is straightforward and pretty enjoyable. You will see a basket of fresh hard rolls and a bunch of sweet and salty toppings. Pick up a crusty bread bun, saw it open, and put on some sliced meat or cheese, or spread some jelly or Nutella. Mixing toppings is allowed but does take some explanation to your hosts as this may be considered explosively experimental.

While living there, I bought a breakfast sandwich at a little stand three or four days a week on my way to work. Each time they asked “meat or cheese” and I responded “meat and cheese.” Each time they’d ask if I wanted two sandwiches. No, I want one sandwich with two toppings. The same set of workers, same conversation, same grimace of agreement to my radical terms, for years.

The Germans have one breakfast worth calling out specifically: Feuerwehr Frühstück (firefighter’s breakfast). While it was not common everywhere in Germany, in Lower Saxony it was a special occasion. Firefighter’s breakfast used the same hard rolls but the topping was (drumroll please) raw hamburger meat, slices of onion, and spicy mustard. This was a breakfast my research lab would have on days of someone’s final report. If you showed up late, it wasn’t tough to deduce that someone had a final report that day. Just… something in the air.

The Spanish, I’m afraid to say, are living their best lives. Most of the world has an unwritten rule that sugar-fueled breakfasts are not intended for fully grown adults. Not so in Spain. You can walk past any café and see a 50-year-old man in a suit reading a financial newspaper and eating a chocolate-filled croissant with a knife and fork, or dipping a sugar-topped muffin into a saucer of milk.

This may also be the reason that they have a second breakfast before lunch. My wife would frown but ultimately agree: there is a bit of Hobbit culture around here.

On our first visit to Platte, she and I were ordering from Shorty’s infamous breakfast menu. A big fan of pancakes after a visit to an IHOP in Los Angeles, she was debating between one or three pancakes. When my dad gestured to a neighboring table and explained that you need a shovel to flip the pancakes, she decided one might be enough. This was not a fluffy West Coast affair. Shorty’s is our fireman’s breakfast. Not everyone can handle it.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

They were made with much love. Pick up a copy, you won’t be disappointed.

If you’ve been enjoying these entries, please consider dropping by the product page and leaving a star rating based on what you’ve read here. Your investment of a minute or two would totally make my day! Many thanks.

Vol. 1, No. 13 — After getting my feet underneath me in Germany, I had the opportunity to take part in that grand tradition of adulthood: looking for housing.

Furnished or unfurnished? Warm or cold? Individually or in a group? Some of these choices in the listings made sense to me and others did not. Let’s try that first one: furnished or unfurnished.

My living situation at the time was a rented room in a traditional half-timber house from the early 1800s in downtown Wolfenbüttel, Germany. I was at the top of four flights of narrow, steep, creaky stairs and shared a bathroom with another student whose room was perched next to mine. Without a coaster to my name, I knew my next place had to be furnished.

During my first visit to a property in my budget, I noticed one small detail that differed from my understanding of “furnished.” While the living room and bedroom were unsurprising, the kitchen did deliver a bit of a shock. It was empty. Plumbing exposed and wires dangling, this was a bring-your-own-kitchen listing. While I could have probably survived with a microwave and paper plates, it was time to keep looking.

Another viewing was set up, this time to an unfurnished apartment. My expectations were already set, so I went in with open eyes. As I cracked the door, I saw that more surprises were in store. It was a literal concrete box. No flooring. No paint. Power outlets and wall switches were installed, but only some lonely copper was to be found hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. Bring your own sockets and bulbs.

While I have since learned that this level of “unfurnished” is not exactly common, it is also not unheard of. Strangely enough, in this particular listing, a complete kitchen was already installed. Words began to have no meaning. I put the brakes on this search and ended up moving months later to a mini-apartment in the same old house. It was perfect.

The terms “warm rent” and “cold rent” were also new to me. They are roughly equivalent to having utilities included or excluded. For the money I’m spending, is this place going to be warm or cold? It makes sense.

Rental terms are not entirely different either. Approximately three months of rent are expected upfront to sign an agreement. This covers the actual first month of rent, a refundable deposit in case of damage, and then your final month of rent.

After moving to Spain, there were some differences to note. One big change is that most people will buy apartments in Spain instead of renting them, so choices are limited. In Germany, it is common to share a multi-room apartment amongst several people. Not so much in Spain. These living situations are so common in Germany that people remain in shared apartments many years into “adulthood” (whatever that means).

Spain has the distinction of kids living with their parents longer than the average American or even German family. They also move far less often. When public universities are within reach of your parents’ house and tradition expects you to buy instead of rent, it’s easy to see why this is the case.

As with all things in Europe, it is unfair to generalize across all countries. They are all very different places much in the same way that each state in the US is unique. One thing is true everywhere at the moment, though: the housing boom is quite real. I’m glad my apartment search is in the rearview mirror for now.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

They were made with much love. Pick up a copy, you won’t be disappointed.

If you’ve been enjoying these entries, please consider dropping by the product page and leaving a star rating based on what you’ve read here. Your investment of a minute or two would totally make my day! Many thanks.

Vol. 1, No. 12 — I can’t remember how long I lived in Germany before piloting a car on the infamous Autobahn. But I do remember the one visual I had my eye out for: the legendary no-speed-limit sign. Once I saw it, the expectations were clear. It had to push this sled to its absolute limit. I floored it. My rental car’s 3-cylinder, 61-cubic-inch diesel engine gasped as if I had just told an off-color joke.

The standard interstate/Autobahn speed is 120 km/h (~75 mph) in Europe. When you hit one of those unlimited sections and aren’t in an appropriately equipped car, move over. You will soon have very proud Audi, Porsche, and Mercedes Benz owners overtaking you at well north of 100 mph. In Europe, it is always illegal to pass on the right, so if you’re dawdling in the left lane, you will see ever more urgent headlight flashes from approaching cars sending you the message to get out of the way.

One oddity in Europe that you don’t first notice is that traffic lights are located on the same side of the intersection as your car when you stop. In the US they are across the intersection. Because most intersections in the US are grids, it is easy to pick out your light. Urban European intersections are much more… organic, let’s say. Because the light is on your side and directly above your car, it’s now clear which one to pay attention to. However, it is also tough to see. There will usually be a small version of the light lower on the pole so you can see it without craning your neck.

In some European countries, the traffic light pattern is ever so slightly different but in a delightful way. When the light is about to turn from red to green, it illuminates the yellow indicator in addition to red for a second. This way if you’re approaching an intersection at speed, you will see it is about to cycle back to green and can avoid braking unnecessarily.

Roundabouts are probably the biggest hurdle to American drivers over here. I promise you though, it only takes a couple dozen hundred practice runs to feel the flow. Oh, and each country treats them a little differently. Some yield on entrance, some on exit, some on both, some on none. I mean, the laws are identical as far as I can tell, but driving culture is all over the place. Jokes aside, they aren’t really that tricky and keep traffic flowing more efficiently than any other junction.

Do you know the one thing that Europeans are jealous of when I explain it to them? Right on red. It doesn’t exist over here save for at the rarest of rare, specially marked intersections. Right on red is fantastic. Don’t take it for granted.

The other thing they are dumbfounded by is how cheap driver’s licenses are in the US. In Europe, the license process borders on racketeering. Long story short, it usually costs €1400- €1900 (~$1500-$2000) to get a license over here. When the locals found out that I had converted my $8 South Dakota license into a European one for a €‎35 (~$37) fee, I saw some involuntary eye twitches.

England is famous for driving on the “wrong” side of the road. Unfortunately, I don’t trust myself to drive there because of a traumatic experience I had while visiting South Africa in 2008, another left-hand traffic country. (Fun fact: they call traffic lights “robots” in South Africa.) I had very little non-US driving experience under my belt at this point and suddenly found myself tossed into a two-lane roundabout connecting a half-dozen streets. With everything in reverse, all of your instincts are wrong. I pulled over, froze wide-eyed, and admitted defeat. We fire-drilled around the car and I swapped spots with my chuckling navigator. Limits were met that day.

As with most differences between the US and Europe, driving here is not decidedly better or worse, just different. It takes a while to get an intuitive feel for the roads and traffic culture, but it’s not different enough that you should shy away from taking a nice European road trip yourself.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

They were made with much love. Pick up a copy, you won’t be disappointed.

If you’ve been enjoying these entries, please consider dropping by the product page and leaving a star rating based on what you’ve read here. Your investment of a minute or two would totally make my day! Many thanks.

Vol. 1, No. 11 — During the past week, I have probably seen more headlines and stories about golf than in the rest of my time here combined. While it is certainly a popular sport, it doesn’t even come close to the prominence of soccer, and finding live broadcasts of events is nearly impossible without a dedicated subscription.

So, why is golf suddenly on everyone’s minds? Usually, an event and its winner will grab a headline or two, but this year is different. A local hero has won the U.S. Open. Jon Rahm is from Barrika, a town of about 1500 people located ten minutes from where I live. There is a weather-worn vinyl banner on one of the local sailing schools with a slightly more youthful-looking Rahm, emblazoned with the words “ZORTE ON, JON!” Basque for “Good Luck, Jon!”

Having Jon Rahm win the U.S. Open is a big deal here. It elevates the sport of golf in the locals’ minds the same way that Pau Gasol landing in the NBA suddenly shone a spotlight on basketball in Spain. Some comparable figures for South Dakota from my vintage might be Mike Miller or Brock Lesnar. One person’s success can quickly translate into a surge in that sport’s popularity.

Golf is different in Europe. It is seen as more of an elitist activity than some casual recreation. For starters, you have to obtain a license to play golf in Spain. Seriously.

The license application process involves recording several rounds with a witness to establish your handicap. There is also a test on the rules and protocols involved in the game itself so that you can be expected to “successfully execute” a round of golf.

If you’re visiting from another country, not a problem. Simply bring a certificate from your home club stating your official handicap and you’re good to go. You have one lying around, right? Watch out though, if it’s above 28 for men or 36 for ladies, you may be asked to bring a more competent chaperone from the club on your round.

While this all sounds super joyous, there is a kernel of a good idea here. I have no objection to all the golfers on a course knowing how to play the game and observing some semblance of pace-of-play. We’ve all played behind one of “those groups” and been tempted, even if for only a weak moment, to launch a friendly warning shot.

However, once you actually get on a course in Spain, it all feels quite familiar. Friends shooting a round after work, weekday leagues, sports on TV in the club bar, drink holders in the carts, and every make of car in the parking lot. It is not exceptionally expensive, but it still feels out of reach.

This is the uphill battle for golf in Europe. It is not seen as a common hobby and some traditional red tape isn’t helping. Think of the vibe that playing tennis or squash gives off in the US. That’s the aura around golf over here. Anything that brings golf into the mind of everyday people will help. Jon Rahm has done that, even if only for a season.

Midwestern Europe: Volume 1 with the first 52 entries in this series is available now on Amazon US, Spain, and Germany in hardcover, paperback, and Kindle formats!

They were made with much love. Pick up a copy, you won’t be disappointed.

If you’ve been enjoying these entries, please consider dropping by the product page and leaving a star rating based on what you’ve read here. Your investment of a minute or two would totally make my day! Many thanks.