When you don’t speak the language, everything’s an adventure.

Fortunately, Cologne is American-friendly to the extreme, and even the locals who “don’t speak much English” have been able to offer menu suggestions, lead us to a post office, and help Jeff settle on the right haircut (or, length).

But it’s more than words, it’s also the metric system! Jeff’s hair dresser asked him if “12 millimeters” was the right length for the top of his noggin; we were asked our heights by a “German authority” in centimeters (uhhh…); we order beers by the liter, not the pint; distances are often given in meters, not in fractions of a mile. Forget the speed limit. Let’s just be glad I don’t drive.

All of these differences make even the mundane a bit more interesting. Today, for instance, picking out laundry detergent was an exercise in deciphering laundry soap from fabric softener (and the dish soap threw me a bit, too). This morning, logic told me that “sandwich cream” is, in fact, mayonnaise. And when the German word for “condensed milk” sounds a lot like the English version, that is likely what you’re putting in your coffee.

Regardless, things are going pretty well. I’ve been getting back into the work groove again (not sure if I’m “permitted” appropriately, but that’s a story for another day), and Jeff just left on his first trip (Athens-Tel-Aviv-Paris-Tel-Aviv-Munich-Cologne, I think), so it’s just me, the dogs, and our huge king-sized bed.

The pooches are feeling pretty settled, and they’re loving the Germans’ affinity for dogs. After just 10 short days, they’ve joined us indoors at a Thai restaurant, trotted through an indoor mall, ridden a commuter train, shopped for used appliances, and even gone apartment hunting. Pretty wild.

Speaking of apartments, we’ve settled on a place. It’s in an area called Lindenthal. We’ll be about a block from the main road with lots of shops, restaurants, bars, bakeries, and basic conveniences, and we’ll literally be overlooking a huge park. The place is new — built in 2003 — and is pretty sophisticated, especially for us. It is, of course, expensive. And we need to buy the kitchen (a strange custom here that Jeff mentioned in his post). Fortunately, the asking price is about a third of the value of the kitchen, which is pretty new and modern, and we were able to negotiate down a bit. The goal is to sell it to the next tenant before we leave. We’re pretty happy with our choice — and the pooches will have a fenced-in back yard they can run laps in.

So, once Jeff’s back from his trip, we’ll have some sort of grand outing to IKEA to furnish our new place. I’m so glad IKEA still means “cheap” in German.