Yesterday I rode home from tutoring in my big fluffy black jacket. The girl I tutor lives on top of what might be the only hill in the Ruhrgebiet, so I have a heck of a time getting up to her. And if you know me, you know that I am usually late, so I book it up that hill in order to be German (on time). Anyway on the way up, I was super hot and tired, and going so slowly that I didn't even notice the brisk air. But on the way down that hill, whew baby! The wind in my face and the gravity pulling me down would have been just about enough to turn me into a different state of matter. But I was inside of this shell of goose feathers wrapped in nylon, living life in the fast lane (well, bike lane) on a cold winter night in Germany. And it made me think: there are some very essential tools that have allowed me to survive the first 3 months or so, and I thought I might share them with you so the next time you (lose your mind, or...) decide to move abroad and immerse yourself in boredom and foreignness, you can be better prepared than I.
Good Jacket:
As I stated before, the importance of being warm in this country can not be emphasized enough. Germany is cold, Germans like being cold, and Americans are not used to this (qualifier: this thin-skinned NC girl is not used to this.) But regardless, Germans really like this thing called "frische Luft" (fresh air) and will not be convinced to close the window even when its below 40 outside. So bring a cute coat. One that can be worn in the classroom, at the breakfast table, immediately after the shower, while cooking dinner...you catch my drift. Its COLD!
Good Bakery:
Life in Germany means lots of carbs--any American's arch enemy. But here, they have all sorts of complex sugar filled goodness...cakes, breads, tortes, rolls... That being said, it is clear to understand why there is a whole culture around bakeries here. Actually, today as I took my break at my favorite corner bakery, I heard a song that pays homage to either a Christmas Bakery or a Christmas Butcher. (Please note: the two words have extremely similar endings in German and both make sense culturally for Germans to sing ballads about. I hope this helps you to understand my confusion.) So this corner bakery has become an essential part of my happiness over here. It was the first place I ate a breakfast in Dinslaken and I have been back almost once a week since. They know my name and they appreciate my business just like an old fashioned place! I grab a breakfast roll, a little pot of coffee, and dig into a book for an hour or so. I have yet to have their cakes, but, oh man, if you saw a picture of their display case, you would be on a plane ASAP to come join me.
Good Book:
This leads me to my next tool. The good book. I came over here hoping to read all of these intense books that I would never read when actually doing something with my time. These titles included "Crime and Punishment", among others. This was not the best of ideas. When I say good book, I mean a story that is all-encompassing. Something that takes you straight up through the gray clouds and on top of the world with the sunshine warming you up from outside in. Germany can be a scary place and my school can be...frustrating, to say the least. So as soon as I open up one of those great books, I feel safe and hopeful. Books also help with the feeling of isolation that can become consuming over here. Of course I have internet, I'm actually chatting with my sister right now, but reading a book that I can smell and touch makes me feel like I have a friend at my side. And I must say, that my human friends have been really helpful in the books department. Because I brought such serious books, I have been on the hunt for more uplifiting titles. We have started a sort of book exchange. How great--what a romantic idea: a book exchange with Germans and fellow Americans living abroad. Its the little things.
Good Friends:
This is obvious. And I am not sure I can describe how exactally the people here have absolutely, positively, beyond any doubt made my time here worthwhile. This is clear by the tribute they received in an earlier post, but also in the fact that I am still in Germany. Emmersing myself in German culture is important, sure. Participating, embracing, enjoying a new world...yeah of course. But there comes a time when I need to shout out loud "Their water gets so f*#@ing HOT here!!" or "Where is the CHICKEN in this country??" Those little things build up and my friends help me release the pressure. It isn't all complaining, either. It is also so much fun to discover new things with familiar people. My American and Germans friends alike hold my hand and help me to keep my center as I reach for new experiences in my life here.
Good Sense of Humor:
It is really hard to decide which of these tools is most essential. Onc could argue that two mediocre coats would keep you warm, that a bakery is excessive when they have frozen rolls in the grocery store, or that friends can be found online, too. But there can be no concessions when it comes to a good sense of humor. I can not begin to fathom the number of awkward, scary, frustrating, sad situations I've been in since my arrival. The ONLY reason I am here is because I have been able to see (or someone else has been able to show me) the humor in the situation. An example of this that I keep in mind every day is the "Stuhl der Einsamkeit", or "Chair of Loneliness". A friend from Dortmond along with some British kids in the program came up with this title to describe our experience in the schools. It may sound a little dark, but it so perfectly describes the feeling of an English teaching assistent fighting against a tsunami of sterotypes and stuborness. Just picture me, sitting in the back of the class room. My eyes widen as I hear such phrases as "Not all Americans have equal rights." Despite my desperate hand waving, the lesson moves on and I swallow the bitter truth that my voice will not be heard on that matter. That is the chair of loneliness. It becomes something to laugh about with other people. Because when we all sit together in our lonely chairs, it becomes a circle of friends venting and smiling.
I hope you feel better prepared as you being to pack your bags to come live abroad. You see, there is no need for concern. With a few tricks up your sleeves, you'll be ready to hit the road and come join me in beautiful Germany!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Thursday
Thursdays are good days. They always have been. I love the anticipation. On Thursday evening, they usually play the funniest shows, nowadays I am usually on my way to somewhere new, and the entire weekend is right around the corner. By the time Friday morning comes, sometimes I feel like I've already spent all of my excitement; each minute ticking by is one less ounce of weekend. But on Thursdays, there is always something to look forward to.
This morning I got up early to run...I've been doing this lately for a few reasons 1. to make room for more German cake 2. to see a different view of the world 3. i love early mornings. The tale end of darkness has such an effect on my mood. A dreary December sky is just black before the sun has a chance to point out its bleakness. The gradual changes in light, each moment a little brighter, each step a little lighter bring a feeling of hope to my soul. The feeling of starting off into darkness and ending in a dull, gray light, silent except for wind, is something only a morning can give you. Its' as good as a good long stretch before getting out of bed. My mind breathes deeply as my lungs fill with the sharp morning oxygen.
There is something sacred about mornings, too. Universal I might dare to say. Sleepy eyes, bad breath, scratchy voices...all of these things make me feel so human (Although, now that I think about it, Annie the dog usually had some pretty serious bags if she was awoken before her desired hour). And at the breakfast table, even 9 year olds are usually quite subdued (comparatively). Sitting around the table, silently munching on good bread with home-made jam, the only language anyone speaks before the sun rises is tiredness. It's a comprehensive language and culture. The morning culture. Running past lovers saying good bye before work or a trip, I see only sleepy hugs and baggy eyes whispering sweet nothings, as to not disturb the holy silence before the bird's first chirp. Morning quiet in Germany. There are dog walkers, trash collectors, lone wolves--each one with a head full of fresh thoughts for the day, or memories of turbulent dreams that may have aroused them at such an early hour. An ungodly hour? How about a humanly hour. Where my human-ness, my Menschlichkeit, shines like a morning star.
So I sit here in my red couch, looking out into the frosty sky with a cup of coffee in my hands. I am excited for the day: another pumpkin pie presentation for the 11th graders this time. I am about sick of pumpkin pie...The sun has already risen, but the sky is still a dull gray. Maybe later the clouds will part and let that big ole star show off a little bit.
This morning I got up early to run...I've been doing this lately for a few reasons 1. to make room for more German cake 2. to see a different view of the world 3. i love early mornings. The tale end of darkness has such an effect on my mood. A dreary December sky is just black before the sun has a chance to point out its bleakness. The gradual changes in light, each moment a little brighter, each step a little lighter bring a feeling of hope to my soul. The feeling of starting off into darkness and ending in a dull, gray light, silent except for wind, is something only a morning can give you. Its' as good as a good long stretch before getting out of bed. My mind breathes deeply as my lungs fill with the sharp morning oxygen.
There is something sacred about mornings, too. Universal I might dare to say. Sleepy eyes, bad breath, scratchy voices...all of these things make me feel so human (Although, now that I think about it, Annie the dog usually had some pretty serious bags if she was awoken before her desired hour). And at the breakfast table, even 9 year olds are usually quite subdued (comparatively). Sitting around the table, silently munching on good bread with home-made jam, the only language anyone speaks before the sun rises is tiredness. It's a comprehensive language and culture. The morning culture. Running past lovers saying good bye before work or a trip, I see only sleepy hugs and baggy eyes whispering sweet nothings, as to not disturb the holy silence before the bird's first chirp. Morning quiet in Germany. There are dog walkers, trash collectors, lone wolves--each one with a head full of fresh thoughts for the day, or memories of turbulent dreams that may have aroused them at such an early hour. An ungodly hour? How about a humanly hour. Where my human-ness, my Menschlichkeit, shines like a morning star.
So I sit here in my red couch, looking out into the frosty sky with a cup of coffee in my hands. I am excited for the day: another pumpkin pie presentation for the 11th graders this time. I am about sick of pumpkin pie...The sun has already risen, but the sky is still a dull gray. Maybe later the clouds will part and let that big ole star show off a little bit.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Scatterbrained Happiness
So...recently I've been very excited about the weather changing (since that last post it hasn't rained a DROP!) to real winter and Christmas right around the corner, and I just want to shout it from the rooftops! We had that amazing Turkey dinner, and things have been picking up full speed since then. However, if you asked me to list the interesting things that have happened since then, you would get a bunch of mundane tiny events that just remind me of home (By home, I mean the one in the heart...the one that I am finally finding again over here. The real physical home can wait for a few weeks more).
I am pretty sure something mundane/interesting happened yesterday...OH! Yes, I gave a presentation on Alice's Restaurant, the song, yesterday after that crazy school post. The kids LOVED it. This crazy dude just saying a bunch of crap about some trash and something about Alice. They couldn't get enough of it and really cherished the sarcasm. So it got me asking myself: the idea of storytelling---do you guys think its an American thing? I was listening to an NPR broadcast about the newest Disney movie about Tiana, the New Orleans princess, with the 18 year old I tutor on Mondays. Her first comment was that the story was just so typical of Americans to talk about something as silly as the line outside the Disney store to buy merchandise for the new Black Disney princess. She asked me what consequence it has on American culture...why do Americans need to tell this story? Why do they STILL need to talk about race like that? It was so hard to explain, and it made me realize that "Erzaehlungen" or stories are part of who we are; it is how we understand ourselves and each other. Of course Germans like to talk too (I mean come on, Grimms' Tales...), and of course everyone has a history and a story to tell...it's human. But what about American stories make them so unique? The happy ending, to optimism, the sarcasm? The honesty? The song Alice's Restaurant is a giant, slightly annoying, 20 minute-long JOKE. The whole thing is an exaggeration, but it still speaks to so many peoples' true life stories. Just his everyday stuff keeps people listening to those few guitar measures over and OVER. It's funny ("Kill, Kill KILLLL"). It's serious (the draft, the arrest, the "criminal behavior"...). Above all it's life. It is an American life. And so this silly little NPR story is really about the many little girls who get to see a portrait of one of the many facets of American Life. We are understanding our country and our people through the day to day. A short trip to the mall that will inevitable change those little girls' lives forever because someone thought it was important enough to make their small steps a part of the great American culture.
So as I build my life over here, I hope to keep collecting my own small stories. My favorite place to do this is in my head, or into space as I talk to myself on my bike. I enjoy my anonymity over here for that reason specifically: it's OK if people think I'm a nutzo, because I'll be on the other side of an ocean soon enough. But the thought occurs to me often that my adventures here are not just mine to say creepily on my bike, but ones that can and should be told. They are important, not because I am important, but because telling of experiences can only foster wisdom in the teller and the tellee.
Speaking of the mundane, you know how like ever day in Winter you have to scrape ice off your windshield? Ok...now think about doing that but with a BIKE SEAT. I had FROST on my BIKE SEAT. Oh yeah, and I rode that baby home from the STUPID train station tonight. By the time I got home, both of my legs were completely numb. I am going to have to council with some Eskimos about how to stay warm.
One last thing I wanted to stay because its NUTS! The movie, American Beauty, is on the final exam for English students! Can you believe it! They have worksheets, tests, essays, analysis...all of this crap for one of the craziest American movies I can think of. Now here is where I would like your opinion...do you think this movie does a good job representing the American Dream? Do you see aspects of yourselves as Americans (if you are Americans...not sure what my reader population is), and, being completely honest, do you think this movie represents our society well? I look forward to your comments.
I am pretty sure something mundane/interesting happened yesterday...OH! Yes, I gave a presentation on Alice's Restaurant, the song, yesterday after that crazy school post. The kids LOVED it. This crazy dude just saying a bunch of crap about some trash and something about Alice. They couldn't get enough of it and really cherished the sarcasm. So it got me asking myself: the idea of storytelling---do you guys think its an American thing? I was listening to an NPR broadcast about the newest Disney movie about Tiana, the New Orleans princess, with the 18 year old I tutor on Mondays. Her first comment was that the story was just so typical of Americans to talk about something as silly as the line outside the Disney store to buy merchandise for the new Black Disney princess. She asked me what consequence it has on American culture...why do Americans need to tell this story? Why do they STILL need to talk about race like that? It was so hard to explain, and it made me realize that "Erzaehlungen" or stories are part of who we are; it is how we understand ourselves and each other. Of course Germans like to talk too (I mean come on, Grimms' Tales...), and of course everyone has a history and a story to tell...it's human. But what about American stories make them so unique? The happy ending, to optimism, the sarcasm? The honesty? The song Alice's Restaurant is a giant, slightly annoying, 20 minute-long JOKE. The whole thing is an exaggeration, but it still speaks to so many peoples' true life stories. Just his everyday stuff keeps people listening to those few guitar measures over and OVER. It's funny ("Kill, Kill KILLLL"). It's serious (the draft, the arrest, the "criminal behavior"...). Above all it's life. It is an American life. And so this silly little NPR story is really about the many little girls who get to see a portrait of one of the many facets of American Life. We are understanding our country and our people through the day to day. A short trip to the mall that will inevitable change those little girls' lives forever because someone thought it was important enough to make their small steps a part of the great American culture.
So as I build my life over here, I hope to keep collecting my own small stories. My favorite place to do this is in my head, or into space as I talk to myself on my bike. I enjoy my anonymity over here for that reason specifically: it's OK if people think I'm a nutzo, because I'll be on the other side of an ocean soon enough. But the thought occurs to me often that my adventures here are not just mine to say creepily on my bike, but ones that can and should be told. They are important, not because I am important, but because telling of experiences can only foster wisdom in the teller and the tellee.
Speaking of the mundane, you know how like ever day in Winter you have to scrape ice off your windshield? Ok...now think about doing that but with a BIKE SEAT. I had FROST on my BIKE SEAT. Oh yeah, and I rode that baby home from the STUPID train station tonight. By the time I got home, both of my legs were completely numb. I am going to have to council with some Eskimos about how to stay warm.
One last thing I wanted to stay because its NUTS! The movie, American Beauty, is on the final exam for English students! Can you believe it! They have worksheets, tests, essays, analysis...all of this crap for one of the craziest American movies I can think of. Now here is where I would like your opinion...do you think this movie does a good job representing the American Dream? Do you see aspects of yourselves as Americans (if you are Americans...not sure what my reader population is), and, being completely honest, do you think this movie represents our society well? I look forward to your comments.
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