It's been snowing here for the past 24 hours or so and I can see the cold sitting in the sky like a heavy cloud of smoke. I've been riding my bike through this thickness for days now, trying to stay upright as I slide along the ice and snow. Last night was the precipice of punishment when it comes to bike riding in Germany: 20 degrees, dark, hoodlums left and right, ice instead of pavement, and to top it off a BROKEN LIGHT.
To give you a better visual, I thought it might be helpful to first illustrate the kinds of things I accomplish with the two-wheeled devil machine. Well, that list includes pretty much everything that you probably do with a car: grocery store trips, driving to the airport/train station for a trip, driving to school with books and computer...and I've had to take all of the goodies you need for those trips along with me. Some of the things I've carried on my bike (no basket, people!) include:
--a yoga mat with groceries and an overnight bag
--a rug, among other household supplies
--a week's worth of groceries (this may seem an impossible feat at first, but imagine...shopping bags hanging from handle bars, shoulders, neck...)
--two week's worth of clothes in a duffel bag
--and most recently a violin (this one was scary, if Mr. Fear, my orchestra teacher saw that, he would probably rip off his normal human costume and turn into the Batman villain that his name implies).
The rules of biking in Germany are strict, mainly I think because there are so many of us (that's right, Germany, you have to claim me as one of your bikers for the next few months!!) There are bike paths everywhere, as many as—if not more than—sidewalks. Now, seeing as I am a really cute and charming American girl, I figured that the rules don't apply to me. This is not true. Last week I was stopped by the police for having a light out and riding on the wrong side of the road. I was totally stunned. One, because I am pretty sure that I have already caused a few nearly-fatal crashes that have gone unnoticed, and two, because its the POLICE! The police officer was nice, but needless to say I walked that baby the rest of the way to school, and took the next day as a personal day to get the lights fixed. (In case you were wondering, the lights are broken again.)
By the way, a great way to learn the rules is to just ride your bike around. The citizens here would be just pleased as punch to tell you everything you might be doing wrong on your bike. I commonly get such comments as “HEY-NO headphones allowed!” or “The rules say no riding on this sidewalk!” Being the rebel rider that I am, I pay no heed.
I am pretty sure that all of Dinslaken has an alert out for me: the girl with the oversize black coat on, who can commonly be seen weaving around with broken lights and can be heard from a mile away, as her bike wizz-wooshes along the sidewalk. If they listen closely enough, the can also hear the sharp American tongue, putting all sorts of hexes and curses on the man/woman who failed to mention that living in Germany really just means a lot of freaking bike riding.
We do have our arguments, but that sorry excuse for transportation has never failed to get me to my destination. I want to be extremely clear that I hate that thing more than should be described in a public forum. It's awful...I can't wear cute clothes, I can't buy tons of crap and throw it in my trunk to take home, and I clearly have no real clue about what I should really be doing with it. Lets be honest, its a miracle that I haven't been taken to bike jail yet. But it is from this plastic and metal throne that I spend most of my time. With the needles of wind hitting my face and the squeaking of my seat and wheels, I can at least gain some comfort in the fact that I am on my way somewhere.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Onomatopoeia
The day to day in Germany has become a mostly familiar thing for me by now. You can see pictures of the beautiful vistas and read this blog in order to hear my side of the story. But, living here I have more senses that are constantly being battered with either the new or the newly familiar. I've always been sensitive to smell, I may get that from the Orlowski side of the family, all of whom are allergic to any substance that can enter through the nasal cavity. But I think it would be quite rude to go into detail about the smells I experience on a daily basis (EXCEPT for the bakery...mmm pretzels!)
So I will try my best to add a bang to this post and take you through my day with your blindfolds on and your ears ready for something new and different.
Early in the morning, the air turns metallic and the ears are battered with clinking and clanging. The people are pulling up their blinds: metal sheets on the outside of houses that guard the windows each night, protecting the families from nighttime terrors. There is a wizz wizz of the ropes that keep them in place, and then a bang-clank-bang-clank until they are ALL finally rolled up on top of the windows. If you didn't have the benefit of waking up to the usually beep beep of an alarm, this is the sound that greets you in the mornings. There have been many a times during peaceful morning runs that I have honestly thought some angry robot was running after me, but after a moment of contemplation, realized that it was those damned blinds.
So then its off to school, after a battle with a fridge that sounds like an airplane engine and a asthmatic coffee maker. For some reason, there is a rooster on my way to school. I am not the only one who has a rooster in her town, either. Picture a quite ride through the woods, past the refugee camp, with the proud morning soloist, the German rooster. My new route to school also involves a bumpy ride over the train tracks and sometimes waiting for a train. This is nothing but noise! Pure agitation fills my head as I try to at least reduce the amount of data entering my brain. Its a low boom boom, rumbling the ground from far away. But when a cargo train passes, watch out! It's like in those razor commercials, a sonic boom where there are ripples in the air and your hat blows off your head.
If you're not awake yet, let me take you through a collection of noises through out the school day. The school bell is actually quite nice: an electronic church bell...ding dong ding...like a fancy doorbell. But mix that in with children, little ones, running through the halls, throwing things, and LIGHTING FIREWORKS!! I seem to be the only person in the school who seems to think that this is not a noise appropriate for school, so all I can do is my best to avoid them. (At least we know its not guns going of, right?...Germans have GREAT gun control...)
Oh, and I must insert here the most important and abundant sound you may ever hear in Germany. The kling kilng of a bike bell is the only defense you may have against the dreaded biker. The bike in Germany is a force that can not be reckoned with. You must move out of the way, and you must never WALK in the BIKE lane. Luckily, I am usually the one doing the klinging on my way to school, and I must confess that I take full advantage of this power. Klinging left and right, making innocent people jump out of my way for the sake of their lives!
On my way home, I usually see another train (take cover!), hear that rooster, and then reach the safety of my apartment. It is here where things get predictable. Dinner, pots and pans, the low purr (or growl if its a bad day) of the fridge. At the fall of darkness comes the other parenthesis to conclude another day in Dinslaken. The bang-clash-bang-clash is the cue to settle in against a cold January night, turn down the lights, and appreciate the notes that you contribute to the score.
So I will try my best to add a bang to this post and take you through my day with your blindfolds on and your ears ready for something new and different.
Early in the morning, the air turns metallic and the ears are battered with clinking and clanging. The people are pulling up their blinds: metal sheets on the outside of houses that guard the windows each night, protecting the families from nighttime terrors. There is a wizz wizz of the ropes that keep them in place, and then a bang-clank-bang-clank until they are ALL finally rolled up on top of the windows. If you didn't have the benefit of waking up to the usually beep beep of an alarm, this is the sound that greets you in the mornings. There have been many a times during peaceful morning runs that I have honestly thought some angry robot was running after me, but after a moment of contemplation, realized that it was those damned blinds.
So then its off to school, after a battle with a fridge that sounds like an airplane engine and a asthmatic coffee maker. For some reason, there is a rooster on my way to school. I am not the only one who has a rooster in her town, either. Picture a quite ride through the woods, past the refugee camp, with the proud morning soloist, the German rooster. My new route to school also involves a bumpy ride over the train tracks and sometimes waiting for a train. This is nothing but noise! Pure agitation fills my head as I try to at least reduce the amount of data entering my brain. Its a low boom boom, rumbling the ground from far away. But when a cargo train passes, watch out! It's like in those razor commercials, a sonic boom where there are ripples in the air and your hat blows off your head.
If you're not awake yet, let me take you through a collection of noises through out the school day. The school bell is actually quite nice: an electronic church bell...ding dong ding...like a fancy doorbell. But mix that in with children, little ones, running through the halls, throwing things, and LIGHTING FIREWORKS!! I seem to be the only person in the school who seems to think that this is not a noise appropriate for school, so all I can do is my best to avoid them. (At least we know its not guns going of, right?...Germans have GREAT gun control...)
Oh, and I must insert here the most important and abundant sound you may ever hear in Germany. The kling kilng of a bike bell is the only defense you may have against the dreaded biker. The bike in Germany is a force that can not be reckoned with. You must move out of the way, and you must never WALK in the BIKE lane. Luckily, I am usually the one doing the klinging on my way to school, and I must confess that I take full advantage of this power. Klinging left and right, making innocent people jump out of my way for the sake of their lives!
On my way home, I usually see another train (take cover!), hear that rooster, and then reach the safety of my apartment. It is here where things get predictable. Dinner, pots and pans, the low purr (or growl if its a bad day) of the fridge. At the fall of darkness comes the other parenthesis to conclude another day in Dinslaken. The bang-clash-bang-clash is the cue to settle in against a cold January night, turn down the lights, and appreciate the notes that you contribute to the score.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
You Might be German If...
Some of you might be confused about why it is so special that I am over here living like a German. You might say, "Well Sadie, I am not sure you're justified in presenting your experience as exotic. You're in a first world country with educated people...bla bla bla!". Well first of all, if you're saying that, then you haven't been paying attention to a THING I've been saying so far (time travel, Stuhl der Einsamkeit, broken bikes...). Secondly, I can understand why you might still insist that humans are humans, and despite everything living in Germany shouldn't be so different. To really get my point across, I'll outline a few things that make Germans sooo...German. You may be well aware of most of these differences, but I would like you to take a minute and assess your own life. Are you German? Would you fit in over here? If so, as always, I say come on over! We can bike to school together in the freezing cold then come back and watch some bad German TV until we pass out on my couch/bed full of chocolate and beer.
You might be German if...
1. in order to park in your garage, you must first turn your car off, open your garage door, start the car and drive in, then climb out through the sunroof due to the maxium garage width of ~8 feet.
2. your house or place of work is either as cold as or colder than it is outside.
3. your windows open in a minimum of three ways (tipped, wide open, both wide open, open from the top...), and have a minimum open time of 5 hours per day.
4. your shower head points out towards the direction that the shower is the most shallow, so that your bathroom floor is a small wading pool by the end of the shower. or the other option...
5. your shower head is broken
6. you never learned the horrible implications of breaking in line in elementary school, therefore you commonly use your shopping cart as a weapon in the grocery store and your elbows as crowbars in department stores in order to be the first in line.
7. your concept of up and coming techonology is the Internet
8. you've never drawn a line without using a ruler
9. you have at least one trash can per type of disposable material, including: paper, plastic, paper with plastic on it, trash, biodegradable.
10. you think dating the boy/girl down the street is a long distance relationship
11. your grasp of the english language includes the words "f*ck", "Bush sucks", and "Barack Obama"
12. you have an incomprehensible love for Cowboys and Indians
13. you and your boyfriend/girlfriend wear the same cologne and/or have the same haircut
14. You think placing the item divider after your stuff on the belt at the grocery store is one of the most important things you could do for your well being and you will stop at NOTHING in order to put it there.
So read through these carefully, and decide for yourself if you're living in the right country. You may be happier in the land of beer and potatoes. It is different over here. I have come to embrace some things, while others I still have trouble with (breaking in line is NEVER ok!). To say the least, I am glad to get to know where I stand as an American, and I am glad the Germans are willing to share their way of life with me.
You might be German if...
1. in order to park in your garage, you must first turn your car off, open your garage door, start the car and drive in, then climb out through the sunroof due to the maxium garage width of ~8 feet.
2. your house or place of work is either as cold as or colder than it is outside.
3. your windows open in a minimum of three ways (tipped, wide open, both wide open, open from the top...), and have a minimum open time of 5 hours per day.
4. your shower head points out towards the direction that the shower is the most shallow, so that your bathroom floor is a small wading pool by the end of the shower. or the other option...
5. your shower head is broken
6. you never learned the horrible implications of breaking in line in elementary school, therefore you commonly use your shopping cart as a weapon in the grocery store and your elbows as crowbars in department stores in order to be the first in line.
7. your concept of up and coming techonology is the Internet
8. you've never drawn a line without using a ruler
9. you have at least one trash can per type of disposable material, including: paper, plastic, paper with plastic on it, trash, biodegradable.
10. you think dating the boy/girl down the street is a long distance relationship
11. your grasp of the english language includes the words "f*ck", "Bush sucks", and "Barack Obama"
12. you have an incomprehensible love for Cowboys and Indians
13. you and your boyfriend/girlfriend wear the same cologne and/or have the same haircut
14. You think placing the item divider after your stuff on the belt at the grocery store is one of the most important things you could do for your well being and you will stop at NOTHING in order to put it there.
So read through these carefully, and decide for yourself if you're living in the right country. You may be happier in the land of beer and potatoes. It is different over here. I have come to embrace some things, while others I still have trouble with (breaking in line is NEVER ok!). To say the least, I am glad to get to know where I stand as an American, and I am glad the Germans are willing to share their way of life with me.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Time Travel
OhhhhK. So, the past few weeks:
Last week in Germany before Christmas. Nothing much happened, so lets just move on already.
My time at home was short and sweet, but not without the initial awkwardness of returning home...like stepping into a canoe before you sit down. Time change always gets me. It is due to the jet lag that I have slept a total of 6 hours in the past two days. And it was due to jet lag that I spent the first half of my Christmas vacation waking up at 5 or 6, ready to go. I got some good runs in around Strawberry Hill before the birds got up. I also explored the world of yoga with my sister, which has become an essential ingredient in the recipe for Happiness in Germany. I would love to tell you all sorts of stories about the wonders of Charlotte, North Carolina, but I think we are all here for tales of adventures of a far away place, so lets go there now...
I am currently sitting in my new apartment, glued to the computer, as usual. I will put up pictures as soon as I figure out how to utilize the internet properly.
There are some secrets that I have been keeping from you, readers, and one of them is about to be revealed. -->Living in Germany is like living in another time!<-- I have a wonderful new apartment with a beautiful natural wood ceiling, furniture that IS NOT from Ikea, and a TV with a satellite that gets all sorts of interesting English channels (including Al Jazera). But there is no internet. In fact, there is no internet in this whole area of town (in the prospective pictures of my area that you may possibly see, you will notice satellite dishes on everyone's houses.) I have a nifty little 3g stick (cell phone internet that can plug into your computer) that occassionally allows me access to Gmail's simple version of email and that sometimes, albeit reluctantly, relents to give me access to AIM or Skype. But otherwise during my first four days back, I have been adjusting to living in the equivalent of the stone ages.
As testiment to my time spent in the olden days, I can honestly say that I had to go to school, two miles, in the snow, up hill. Except instead of walking barefoot, I rode my bike. Virgin snow is pretty; road snow is gross, dirty, and not something you want all over you when you arrive jet lagged at school. But luckily, I had it all over me this morning, and I am able to brag about it here now. I do realize that most Germans have cars that they drive in the snow, but my personal experience here is one that is especially ancient.
I took a beautiful run along the ice cold river near my new home. All bundled up, it was quite a treat to see vistas of fields covered in snow, to breathe in crisp air, and most importantly to have a warm aparment to look forward to. But time did seem to reverse for a few moments as I saw such sights as a little old lady walking alone through a field of snow on her way to her little house in the middle of the country. And also, Germans don't seem to have to modern concept of snow plowing in thier full graps, either. (This aspect is supported by another's experience, way up in Muenster, where the roads are pretty much dense sheets of snow/ice at this point).
Living here really does feel like living in a different time. There are a lot of technological conveniences that I take for granted in the United States. Germans don't really do credit cards for reasons of tradition more than anything. Classrooms are without computers or projectors, and most of the tv's I've seen around here are the same size of most of the cars I've seen around here...(big old tube TV's...) So, if you squint your eyes and use your imagination, its like being in a magical land. Where the time passes a little more slowly, and the people are very suspicious of new things.
Last week in Germany before Christmas. Nothing much happened, so lets just move on already.
My time at home was short and sweet, but not without the initial awkwardness of returning home...like stepping into a canoe before you sit down. Time change always gets me. It is due to the jet lag that I have slept a total of 6 hours in the past two days. And it was due to jet lag that I spent the first half of my Christmas vacation waking up at 5 or 6, ready to go. I got some good runs in around Strawberry Hill before the birds got up. I also explored the world of yoga with my sister, which has become an essential ingredient in the recipe for Happiness in Germany. I would love to tell you all sorts of stories about the wonders of Charlotte, North Carolina, but I think we are all here for tales of adventures of a far away place, so lets go there now...
I am currently sitting in my new apartment, glued to the computer, as usual. I will put up pictures as soon as I figure out how to utilize the internet properly.
There are some secrets that I have been keeping from you, readers, and one of them is about to be revealed. -->Living in Germany is like living in another time!<-- I have a wonderful new apartment with a beautiful natural wood ceiling, furniture that IS NOT from Ikea, and a TV with a satellite that gets all sorts of interesting English channels (including Al Jazera). But there is no internet. In fact, there is no internet in this whole area of town (in the prospective pictures of my area that you may possibly see, you will notice satellite dishes on everyone's houses.) I have a nifty little 3g stick (cell phone internet that can plug into your computer) that occassionally allows me access to Gmail's simple version of email and that sometimes, albeit reluctantly, relents to give me access to AIM or Skype. But otherwise during my first four days back, I have been adjusting to living in the equivalent of the stone ages.
As testiment to my time spent in the olden days, I can honestly say that I had to go to school, two miles, in the snow, up hill. Except instead of walking barefoot, I rode my bike. Virgin snow is pretty; road snow is gross, dirty, and not something you want all over you when you arrive jet lagged at school. But luckily, I had it all over me this morning, and I am able to brag about it here now. I do realize that most Germans have cars that they drive in the snow, but my personal experience here is one that is especially ancient.
I took a beautiful run along the ice cold river near my new home. All bundled up, it was quite a treat to see vistas of fields covered in snow, to breathe in crisp air, and most importantly to have a warm aparment to look forward to. But time did seem to reverse for a few moments as I saw such sights as a little old lady walking alone through a field of snow on her way to her little house in the middle of the country. And also, Germans don't seem to have to modern concept of snow plowing in thier full graps, either. (This aspect is supported by another's experience, way up in Muenster, where the roads are pretty much dense sheets of snow/ice at this point).
Living here really does feel like living in a different time. There are a lot of technological conveniences that I take for granted in the United States. Germans don't really do credit cards for reasons of tradition more than anything. Classrooms are without computers or projectors, and most of the tv's I've seen around here are the same size of most of the cars I've seen around here...(big old tube TV's...) So, if you squint your eyes and use your imagination, its like being in a magical land. Where the time passes a little more slowly, and the people are very suspicious of new things.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Tools of the Trade
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!
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!
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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