Tag Archives: Portland

Portland, Oregon: City of Roses, Rain and Microbrewed Brains


“All of Portland is a stage, and all the men and women dress in layers.”

For the holidays this year, my German wife and I returned to my hometown of Portland, Oregon. We had an absolute blast visiting our friends and family members, and just generally reliving this rainy city we left back in 2012 before moving to Germany.

It all started with the short flight from Hannover, to the Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam. Then the long, painful, 10.5-hour flight from Amsterdam to Portland. See, I hate flying, and I’d been dreading this part for months. Full-on plane crash nightmares every single night until departure. (Thank CHRIST for Xanax.)

Once we arrived in Portland, we picked up our little rental car — a Volkswagen Jetta — and hit the city. (I think it was a Volkswagon. I don’t know anything about cars. It was the kind they won’t shut the fuck up about over here in Germany because of some diesel emissions scandal.)

We walked around downtown, hit the glorious new Apple Store at Pioneer Place, and enjoyed a little pub in northeast Portland called Hop & Vine. I love little microbreweries like this; they remind me just how hard I should slap the next German guy who proclaims his country is the only one who can make good beer. (We’re talking about a very hard slap here. The kind which removes at least a year of elementary school from your brain.)


That’s a menu, by the way. Not our bill. Jesus.

After a very low-key, very nerdy New Year’s Eve — complete with frozen pizzas, Dead Guy Ale from Rogue Brewery, and binge-watching the entirety of Season 5 of Game of Thrones — we visited a small, private museum filled with animal heads and death masks. (Seriously.)

The rest of the trip was a haze of good food, strong drink, close friends and much-missed family. It was awesome. However, it is equally awesome to be back home in Hannover, Germany, where the weather is exactly as depressing as Portland’s. (It’s like we never left!)

We took a few pictures during our trip to share with you. Please click one of the thumbnails below to start the slideshow. Oh, and by the way: If you want to hang out with us on Instagram, our account name is, unsurprisingly, ohgodmywifeisgerman.

Thank you for reading and (try your best to) have an awesome Monday!




Visiting Portland, Oregon: An American Expat and His German Wife Return to the States for Spring Break


Welcome to Portland: City of beer, beards and reefer buds.

My wife is a smokin’ hot, full-blooded German woman with a killer smile and a wildly unpredictable sense of humor. I am an American expat built from the lesser parts of cyborg nerds and dragon jockeys. Together, we live in Hannover, Germany, and this blog is an ongoing account of our shared misadventures.

Now, we hadn’t visited my hometown of Portland, Oregon, since late 2013, so it was a pretty big deal for us to see our friends and family members this year. What follows is a picture gallery depicting our trip from beginning to end, complete with an epic pub crawl, a visit to the very site where I asked my wife to marry me, and everything else which makes me proud to call myself a Portlander. Or a Portlandite. Portlandian? Portlandonian! I COME FROM THE LAND OF PORTS.

 Click one of the thumbnails below to start the slideshow and read the captions:



If you would like to read another post regarding my hometown, check this one out: My German Wife’s First Encounter with ‘Kitchen Kaboodle’ in Portland, Oregon

My German Wife’s First Encounter with ‘Kitchen Kaboodle’ in Portland, Oregon


“That spoon costs $25? BAW HAW HAW HAW HAW! Oh, you’re serious…” — Photo by Thomas (http://www.flickr.com/photos/_-o-_/)

Shortly after we were married, The Wife and I opened our wedding presents and were immediately shocked into generosity-comas. We were very grateful for the gifts we received from our friends and family members, especially because we were about to move to Germany and start a new life there. We needed all the help we could get. But before we left the States, we had to make use of the gifts we would not be able to use in Germany, like the $50 gift certificate we received to Kitchen Kaboodle.

Kitchen Kaboodle is a locally-owned kitchen, furniture and bath store with five locations in Portland, Oregon. It’s actually very well known for its wide selection of quality products, all of which are so far beyond our budget they’re practically in orbit. The word ‘kaboodle’ comes from the expression, “the whole kit and caboodle,” which can be interpreted to mean, “everything and more.” It’s a funny sounding name, so you can imagine my German wife asking me, as we parked our car and crossed NW 23rd…

THE WIFE: “So what do they sell there at Kitchen Kah-Doo-Del?”

Denglish 96: My German Wife Knows How to Pimp An American Pizza

funny pizza pimp

“Take the flavor. TAKE IT.” — Photo by tacit requiem (http://www.flickr.com/photos/tacitrequiem/)

If you are familiar with our blog, you know my German wife and I like to make pizzas on Sunday nights. But we don’t actually make pizzas, we ‘pimp‘ them: We buy cheap-as-balls frozen pizzas, then add all kinds of crazy shit to make them taste fantastic.

Now, The Wife and I have different methods for pimping our pizzas. I like to go berserk and add like a pound of shredded cheese and enough salami to choke a rhino. My wife likes to add extra tomato sauce and toss a few delicate handfuls of spinach on top. She also has differing opinions of cooking methods. Namely, she prefers to leave the pizza in the oven for a mere 15 minutes, and she likes to place it on the center rack, specifically.

She is so confident in her pimping methods, she likes to remind me of their merits each and every time we stick a pizza in the oven. This is why she concluded her latest affirmation with the line:

THE WIFE: “…and remember, last time, it turned out absolutely phenomenom.”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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Denglish 95: My German Wife Gets Stuck in Traffic, Struggles Adorably to Pronounce the English Letter ‘J’

Germans hate travel delays. Hate them. This is because they belong to a culture in which efficiency is prized above all other aspects of society. In Germany, efficiency is king; a cold, unfeeling despot sitting atop a mountain of dead alarm clocks high above the heads of lesser priorities, such as passion, hope or basic human enjoyment of life.

For a German, it’s all about getting from point A to point B, and anything holding up this process is to be regarded with weaponized contempt. Late flights, tardy buses and delayed subway trains drive them absolutely bugshit. And traffic jams? Oh God, traffic jams will rocket their emotional state all the way from Eerily Stoic to Nuclear Wrath.

On an important side note: In German, the letter ‘J’ is pronounced like the English letter ‘Y’ (e.g. ‘John’ becomes ‘Yohn,’ and ‘Jazz’ becomes ‘Yazz.’)

This is why, back in Portland, Oregon, as my wife was attempting to drive west on I-84 during rush hour, she sent me the following photograph and angry text message:

Traffic on Interstate 84 in NE Portland, OregonTHE WIFE: “I am today in a very bad traffic yam!”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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Culture Shock 11: American Man Blindsided by Spring Allergies in Hannover, Germany

bee covered in pollen in a flower

Welcome to Germany, where noses run like rivers and the sneezes are free. — Photo by Lennart Tange (http://www.flickr.com/photos/lennartt/)

I have always suffered from hay fever. Every spring, between May and July, my allergies go nuts. And I’m from Portland, Oregon, mind you, which resides in the valley between the Cascade Mountain Range and the Pacific Coast Mountains like a breakfast bowl full of pollen spores.

Portlanders know all about seasonal allergies. My friend Looney Tunes moved to Portland just a few years ago and said, “I thought I was going to die.” That’s how hard our pollen count schooled him. It took him to school and fed him crackers.

My other friend, who I will call “Midnight in Wyoming,” moved to Portland and said of his resulting allergy attacks, “I wanted to shoot myself in the head.” (I’m not sure we can take this seriously, however, coming from a man who dances the Electric Slide.)

As a native Oregonian, I’m accustomed to allergy attacks. They are an annual norm for me, but I thought things might be different in Germany. Perhaps the trees will be different there, I thought. Maybe the flowers and grasses will make a kinder, gentler brand of pollen. Oh no, they have the same shit over here, and it’s working me over like it hates me. Like I slept with its mother… Ivanna Sneezeonyourwiener.

sneezing picture

“Achoo!” “Oh dear, Gesund–” “ACHOO!!!”– Photo by Inf-Lite Teacher (http://www.flickr.com/photos/87328375@N06/)

Holy mother of Joseph, I wake up feeling like hell every morning; my eyelids fused together with tears and eyeball honey. My throat is so itchy I feel like I swallowed a blond-haired, blue-eyed hairball. I sneeze like 15 times before my Earl Grey is done steeping (and yes, I put milk in it like a total fruitcake. Whatever man. I’m 1/4 English).

What in the hell, Germany. Clearly you do not respect my generic, Costco-purchased Claritin. I brought this shit all the way from the States, where we don’t have to talk to a pharmacist to buy a bottle of NyQuil. Where we enjoy so much freedom we can buy DayQuil and NyQuil and take them both at the same time.

Anybody else gettin’ nailed by allergies right now? What’s a red-blooded American supposed to do against pollen spores the size of soccer balls? Why am I mixing metaphors like an inebriated Irishman? Oh, hello beer stein full of sweet, golden Pilsner — why yes, you are just the medicine I was looking for.

And now, Dear Reader, I would like to invite you to watch this video I made. It’s a rapid-fire compilation of my sneezes over the past week. I only managed to record about half of them, since sneeze attacks come on super fast and my iPhone takes forever to switch into video mode, but here they are, in all their eye-watering, head-pounding, snot-rocketing glory. (Warning: video contains minor swearing.)

Click here to learn more about the term “Culture Shock.”

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Denglish 53: Proper German Conduct for Hawaiian-Themed Bars

Back in February of 2011, The Wife decided to join me for my German class at Portland Community College (PCC). We had a few hours to kill before class, so we stopped at a Hawaiian-themed karaoke bar on North Interstate called Alibi, where I ordered a big, steaming pile of macaroni salad. Immediately, I began complaining about the food and the fact that I didn’t feel like going to German class that night, which earned me the following rebuke:

THE WIFE: “Don’t be a dick in a tiki bar.”

Click here to learn more about the term “Denglish.”

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