I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.
~3 Doors Down – “Kryptonite”
Or more like a train ride around Europe. With classes over, I put my EuRail Pass to good use, and began going everywhere from Rome to Stockholm. But even though I saw a lot, there was still so much I just didn’t get to see. Europe looks small on a map, but there is just not enough time to see it all. And it was a bit of a shock when my pass expired and I was once again limited to free travel within Hesse. Though I theoretically could have traveled around Hesse, I was busy with other things.
With just under two weeks since returning home, it seemed like the right time for an update on my life—a post about the last few days in Germany, my first few days in the U.S., and the process of readjustment to my old life.
My last few days in Germany were filled with a mad dash to get everything packed up, shipped off, or otherwise ready to be thrown out or sent home. Though my room was small, it held a surprising amount of things that needed to be sorted through. And of course, I had to clean the entire room—windows and everything. Because you know those Germans love cleanliness and wouldn’t be giving me back my deposit on the room (a whopping 200€) unless I did. (I’m not joking—the letter I got said they charge 10€ for dirty windows, 30€ for “normal” Verschmutzung, and 60€ for really dirty rooms. That’s a buttload of money just to clean those tiny things, and I wasn’t prepared to be handing back even one cent of that ridiculous deposit.) Unfortunately for me, those bastards at the student housing office don’t give you back your 200€ in cash; only through Überweisung (transfer of money to a bank account). And since I had to close my German bank account that day, they obviously couldn’t send the money there. So instead I had to give them my email where they could tell me my options of how to get my money back. Having had a very limited internet connection since being home, I haven’t been able to check my emails on a regular basis. Though when I did log on to my emails today, I was dismayed to find that I had not yet received any note from the Studentenwerk, and now I’m worried I’ll never get my damn money back—yet another way the Germans have managed to screw me over. But I digress.
I spent the rest of that last day going to the post office to send off the packages of things I couldn’t fit in my suitcase, going to my advisor’s office to hand in my grades, and going to the Ausländerbehörde, only to find out that I was supposed to have gone to the Stadtbüro in order to tell them I was leaving Germany. I needed to go to that office, because, in the words of the guy who was working with me, “If you evah come beck to Chermany, you need zis pay-pah.” I don’t know why he decided to say that one sentence in English when everything else we were saying was in German, but his accent was so cute, that I had to share it.
Even when he handed me the green sheet of paper that I was supposed to hang on to, the reality of leaving Europe hadn’t fully set in. That could have very well been the last time I ever have to deal with German bureaucracy, but in my mind, I somehow felt that sooner or later I would return.
As I could no longer return to my room, I wound up spending much of that evening in my hall’s kitchen, where I watched a lot of TV and took a lot of naps on the couch, just waiting until I could leave for my 4:30 AM train to Frankfurt.
I got to the airport with time enough for the guy at the Air India counter to ask me if I was sure I was on the Air India flight to Chicago, and not the United Airlines flight (what, just because I’m not Indian, I can’t fly Air India and would somehow confuse United for Air India?!), and for the two passport controllers to take their good old time looking through my passport and comment that the pictures in my passport and Aufenthaltserlaubnis were “sweet” (I don’t know if they meant “sweet” in the American form, as in “cool,” or “sweet” in the German form, as in “cute,” but either way I was flattered). Even after checking in, getting through passport and baggage control, and sitting in the waiting area, it still hadn’t hit me that I would soon be in yet another country—and this time, I wouldn’t be coming back via the Deutsche Bahn.
Luckily for me, I hadn’t really gotten much sleep the previous two days, what with all the packing and cleaning, and so I easily fell asleep and stayed asleep for most of the 9 hour flight, waking up more or less refreshed, and ready to start the day and my new life back in my Old Country. I didn’t even have a major jet-lag problem…though it was weird that time seemed to have been suspended or at least really slowed down for about seven hours between the time that I left Germany to the time I arrived in Chicago. The plane left at almost 9 AM German time and got in at around 11 AM Chicago time. So you can imagine the weird tricks such a flight plays on one’s mind.
When I finally got in, I had to wait an hour and a half to get my damn bags back, and go through the passport controller who looked bored out of his skull and the customs agent who didn’t seem to understand English. It struck me as odd that in all the places I went in Europe, people actually spoke a lot of English, but in a country where English is supposed to be a major language, even the customs agents couldn’t seem to understand what I was telling them. This is Chicago O’Hare, is it not? I didn’t oversleep and wind up in India or something, like the guy at the ticket counter in Frankfurt seemed to suggest I might do, did I? Anyway… once I got through the American security people, I was home free, no more to roam, and greeted with the hugs and smiles of loved ones.
It seemed strange to be surrounded by English (well, and Spanish too) again. I had gotten used to being surrounded by either German or foreign languages I didn’t understand, with English only used sparingly in advertisements, and by hostel owners, train personnel, and the like. But even so, it seemed more that I was just temporarily stopping by, than home to stay—like it was another one of my trips.
The reverse culture shock didn’t even really hit me until a few days ago. Though I call it “shock,” I don’t know that that word really classifies what I felt. I don’t know if it was shock or if it was just plain acceptance, moving on to a different stage of life without even thinking much about it. Or perhaps it’s even denial. And it was the same story with coming to Germany. To be honest, I didn’t really think about where I would be going—not before I went to Germany and not now that I’m back at start. I didn’t start thinking about my semester in Germany until the day before I left for the airport. And it’s the same way now. I never really got to the point where I was going crazy with anticipation over all the fun I was supposed to have in my semester abroad, nor did I get really excited about going home.
I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs on this journey in Giessen, which I suppose doesn’t make it any better or worse than anywhere else I’ve lived. People often talk about their study abroad experiences as though they were magically enlightened over the course of a semester and had a hell of a time in the process. So why don’t I feel the same?
I can’t say I hated Germany, though I often let on as if I did. When asked if I would want to come back, I most often said no. Now that I’ve left, I don’t know that I feel the same. It’s as if the two lives, the two worlds, have fused together, and now it’s difficult to sort out where one ends and the other begins. Maybe this was the enlightenment people always talk about? I don’t know… Was this the best semester of my college career? No. But would I do it again? Probably. This poor wayfaring stranger has returned home, and yet longs for the open road once more. Auf Wiedersehen, dear Readers; auf Wiedersehen, Deutschland.
Oh that I was where I would be
Then I would be where I am not
Here I am where I must be
Go where I would, I can not
Oh diddle day, oh diddle lie o day
~American folk song, “Katie Cruel”
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Memories
As the school year here in Giessen comes to a close and we start taking our final exams, as I begin to pack up my things and everyone begins with their goodbyes, I find myself here once again writing my observations and perhaps baring a small part of my soul.
In the weeks leading up to this post, I have not been online as much as I normally am. In fact, I have tried to stay away from the computer altogether. I would rather not divulge the sordid details of my life and the reasons for my absence, but I will say it was a painful series of situations that attacked from more than one angle. A painful series of situations that on my worst days, still seem will never end. And maybe they never will. But at least I’ve somewhat come to accept that. As a friend of mine very recently told me, the Russians have a saying. It goes something like “if someone has a knife to your back, it means you’re ahead.”
It was one part of the situation that prompted someone to urge me to just “go home.” And go “home,” I shall. Go home, I must. For even though it’s sad to go, if one never leaves, it is impossible to come back. And therein lies the bigger tragedy. (Besides, I don’t really have $22,000 just lying around to pay back the scholarships and grants that funded my time here in Germany, but were contingent upon me finishing my time at Denison.)
I will admit I am to blame for the pain caused from a few of those angles. And for that, I am truly sorry. I am sorry for everything from the truths I’ve not revealed to the scars I’ve etched on another’s cheek. Maybe in America I’ll get a second chance. After all, it is the land of opportunity and second chances, is it not?
Several people have asked me if I am happy to be going home. I don’t know what to tell them. Strange as it may seem, I don’t want to go back. But on the other hand, I don’t want to stay here. Though I don’t have any particular love of Germany, and couldn’t see myself as willingly coming back for more than a few weeks, there’s something about the thought of leaving one of my adopted second “homes” that strikes a bit of sadness in my heart. (And if this is hard, I hate to imagine what it will be like this time next year when I’m leaving Denison.) And though I’ll be going back to a land where milk doesn’t taste like coffee creamer, where one doesn’t have to pay to go to the bathroom, and where the skies are not cloudy all day, it was in Germany where I met people, forged memories, and complained about crazy Germans being their crazy German selves. And to have to leave all of that behind and start over again will be tough. It seems I have caught myself in the classic “you-can’t-go-home-but-you-can’t-stay-here” syndrome. (That’s not a real disorder; I made it up.) I may have messed up in Europe, but if there’s one lesson I’ve learned from The Great Gatsby and from life, it’s that you can’t run away from, cover up, or forget your past. It’s a part of you, for better or worse. And maybe that’s where some of my sorrow at my impending departure from Germany stems from. It’s the bittersweet memories that bind me to this place.
In the weeks leading up to this post, I have not been online as much as I normally am. In fact, I have tried to stay away from the computer altogether. I would rather not divulge the sordid details of my life and the reasons for my absence, but I will say it was a painful series of situations that attacked from more than one angle. A painful series of situations that on my worst days, still seem will never end. And maybe they never will. But at least I’ve somewhat come to accept that. As a friend of mine very recently told me, the Russians have a saying. It goes something like “if someone has a knife to your back, it means you’re ahead.”
It was one part of the situation that prompted someone to urge me to just “go home.” And go “home,” I shall. Go home, I must. For even though it’s sad to go, if one never leaves, it is impossible to come back. And therein lies the bigger tragedy. (Besides, I don’t really have $22,000 just lying around to pay back the scholarships and grants that funded my time here in Germany, but were contingent upon me finishing my time at Denison.)
I will admit I am to blame for the pain caused from a few of those angles. And for that, I am truly sorry. I am sorry for everything from the truths I’ve not revealed to the scars I’ve etched on another’s cheek. Maybe in America I’ll get a second chance. After all, it is the land of opportunity and second chances, is it not?
Several people have asked me if I am happy to be going home. I don’t know what to tell them. Strange as it may seem, I don’t want to go back. But on the other hand, I don’t want to stay here. Though I don’t have any particular love of Germany, and couldn’t see myself as willingly coming back for more than a few weeks, there’s something about the thought of leaving one of my adopted second “homes” that strikes a bit of sadness in my heart. (And if this is hard, I hate to imagine what it will be like this time next year when I’m leaving Denison.) And though I’ll be going back to a land where milk doesn’t taste like coffee creamer, where one doesn’t have to pay to go to the bathroom, and where the skies are not cloudy all day, it was in Germany where I met people, forged memories, and complained about crazy Germans being their crazy German selves. And to have to leave all of that behind and start over again will be tough. It seems I have caught myself in the classic “you-can’t-go-home-but-you-can’t-stay-here” syndrome. (That’s not a real disorder; I made it up.) I may have messed up in Europe, but if there’s one lesson I’ve learned from The Great Gatsby and from life, it’s that you can’t run away from, cover up, or forget your past. It’s a part of you, for better or worse. And maybe that’s where some of my sorrow at my impending departure from Germany stems from. It’s the bittersweet memories that bind me to this place.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Tiger Juice Solves Everything
This evening I was in the kitchen making soup for dinner, and the one guy who last week asked me why I don't hang out with anyone on the floor came into the kitchen. And although I was snippy with him just a few days ago, you'll never guess what he did. He came into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator, where he pulled out two Capri Suns. Then he set one down on the counter next to where my soup had been cooking (at that moment, I was just washing out the pot), and asked me in a somewhat timid voice, "Excuse me, do you want this?" I was just shocked a little. Here I was, just washing out a pan after having snubbed him just a few days earlier, and he offered me a drink! "Oh no, it's ok," I said. But he insisted, saying "I've got two. You can have this one." I immediately felt bad for having been so rude to him earlier. It seems he really is a good guy. Maybe a bit loud at times, but at least he's not a jerk. I accepted the drink and we smiled at each other, and he left to go back to his room, while I stayed to finish washing the pot.
On a side note, either German Capri Suns aren't as tasty as the American variety, they've changed the recipe a lot since I last had them, or my tastes have changed radically since the days when I would refer to them as "tiger juice."
On a side note, either German Capri Suns aren't as tasty as the American variety, they've changed the recipe a lot since I last had them, or my tastes have changed radically since the days when I would refer to them as "tiger juice."
Monday, June 14, 2010
Toooooooor!
It's World Cup (that's like the Super Bowl of soccer) season in Germany and everyone's catching the fever. And with the American team tying against England in the match on Saturday evening, even Americans are getting into it. I myself was ready to cheer on the American team on Saturday, then turn around the next day and cheer on the German team to a stunning 4:0 victory over Australia. Well done, Germany!
watching the game on a big screen outdoors at Ulenspiegel
Probably the best part of the Germans winning Sunday night, was the huge, spontaneous "party" everyone decided to throw in the middle of the street. It was like going through a Puerto Rican neighborhood on Puerto Rican Independence Day times ten. I can't even imagine what it would be like here if Germany won the whole competition. Probably annoying for the people who don't like that sort of thing, but as for me, I like the company.
Watch as the Germans go crazy over a simple qualifying game. It's beautiful:
Saturday, June 12, 2010
*Really* Crazy German
A week ago today, I posted about a so-called "crazy German" who sat down square in the middle of a busy intersection.
Well, I may have found someone crazier. Today, I decided to take the bus into town to go shopping. As I was getting on the bus, I saw a crazy bag lady walking down the street, yelling at a group of young boys (about 10 years old, I'd say), calling them "assholes." I thought it was weird, but got on the bus, and found an empty seat...which was pretty easy to do, since there were only like 5 people on the bus. Then I heard the crazy lady getting closer and closer, and finally, to my horror and amusement, I saw her climbing on the bus. And she really did have to climb; she had so many bags attached to various parts of her body, I don't know how she moved at all.
And of course, as all crazy people seem to do, she sat down in the seat across the aisle from me. Figures. Though, I can't say I was too upset about it. Although she scared me a little, I think I was more intrigued by her, and was glad to have the opportunity to see her up close. She eventually got up to go back outside and try to chase those boys who were staring and pointing at her. In the meantime, some other girl got on the bus and sat in the bag lady's seat. So where do you think the bag lady sat when she finally got back on the bus? That's right. She moved even closer to me. This time, she sat in the seat facing me. So from Eichendorffring to Berliner Platz, I got to listen to her crazy ramblings about dentists. At some point, she was rambling about how lines in dentist offices are unbearably long. "You wait for hours and hours...and sometimes two!" It was quite an experience. One which I'm sure you'd like to share with me. Lucky for me I again had my handy-dandy Handy and was able to record some of her ramblings for you...though remember, this is Germany and this woman was rambling in German. So sorry if you can't understand it. I'd translate for you, but that would take too much time, and I don't feel like doing the work. =P
SM_A0002.mp3
SM_A0003.mp3
SM_A0004.mp3
SM_A0006.mp3
SM_A0007.mp3
**Edit: I'm not saying I didn't feel sorry for the woman. Really I did...but it wasn't something you see every day, so it was a bit shocking and scary (seeing her chasing after the boys and yelling that she'd kill them, how was I to know how she would react toward me?) but also intriguing.
Well, I may have found someone crazier. Today, I decided to take the bus into town to go shopping. As I was getting on the bus, I saw a crazy bag lady walking down the street, yelling at a group of young boys (about 10 years old, I'd say), calling them "assholes." I thought it was weird, but got on the bus, and found an empty seat...which was pretty easy to do, since there were only like 5 people on the bus. Then I heard the crazy lady getting closer and closer, and finally, to my horror and amusement, I saw her climbing on the bus. And she really did have to climb; she had so many bags attached to various parts of her body, I don't know how she moved at all.
And of course, as all crazy people seem to do, she sat down in the seat across the aisle from me. Figures. Though, I can't say I was too upset about it. Although she scared me a little, I think I was more intrigued by her, and was glad to have the opportunity to see her up close. She eventually got up to go back outside and try to chase those boys who were staring and pointing at her. In the meantime, some other girl got on the bus and sat in the bag lady's seat. So where do you think the bag lady sat when she finally got back on the bus? That's right. She moved even closer to me. This time, she sat in the seat facing me. So from Eichendorffring to Berliner Platz, I got to listen to her crazy ramblings about dentists. At some point, she was rambling about how lines in dentist offices are unbearably long. "You wait for hours and hours...and sometimes two!" It was quite an experience. One which I'm sure you'd like to share with me. Lucky for me I again had my handy-dandy Handy and was able to record some of her ramblings for you...though remember, this is Germany and this woman was rambling in German. So sorry if you can't understand it. I'd translate for you, but that would take too much time, and I don't feel like doing the work. =P
SM_A0002.mp3
SM_A0003.mp3
SM_A0004.mp3
SM_A0006.mp3
SM_A0007.mp3
**Edit: I'm not saying I didn't feel sorry for the woman. Really I did...but it wasn't something you see every day, so it was a bit shocking and scary (seeing her chasing after the boys and yelling that she'd kill them, how was I to know how she would react toward me?) but also intriguing.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Life in Scheissendorffring
**Caution: the contents of this blog post are caustic in nature. Do not let contents come into contact with skin. If you do come into contact with the subject matter, rinse affected area in cool water and contact a poison control center immediately... i.e. this post might have some foul language because I'm kinda irritated right now. I generally try to keep my cool and keep my blog posts clean for the Kinder and faint-of-heart in my reading audience, but at the moment, I can't take it anymore. Maybe it's the weather. Just warning you all, so you don't call the FCC on me for poisoning your children's minds with (gasp!) swear words, or whatever.**
So, I went into the kitchen to get the last of my apple juice from the fridge, and there was a guy there who was opening a can of tuna. He turned to me, and the following dialogue ensued (I've translated it to English; it was in German originally):
Maybe I wouldn't have been so snippy with him if it hadn't already been a rough night for me. See, there's this one guy on my floor who kinda bothers the hell out of me...well they all kinda bother the hell out of me. But this guy kinda intimidates me too. It's like this: at the beginning of the semester when I first moved in here, I tried to be friendly toward my new neighbors. When I saw them in the kitchen or in the hallway or whatever, I'd smile and wave or say "hi," and most of them would do the same. Or at least they'd fucking nod or show some sort of acknowledgment that I had greeted them. Well this one dude who lives on my floor and whom I've seen since the very beginning (when I first moved in here, there weren't so many people, so I didn't see many people) must hate me or something, because every time I would try to be friendly and smile/wave/say "hi" to him, he never said or did anything other than give me a look like he was disgusted I would dare try to be friendly to my new neighbor (heaven forbid!). But still I persisted, hoping that one day he'd come to accept me as fellow resident and neighbor, if not friend, in this shitty excuse for a dorm, we call Eichendorffring. Because Lord knows it can be rough when you have to live next to, and share common living space with, people who apparently think you're the scum of the earth.
Well eventually, we had to have a floor meeting, because the retards on my floor didn't seem to understand the fact that they are not the only ones who use the kitchen. i.e. you need to clean up after yourself when you're done in the kitchen, dumbasses; neither I nor anyone else wants to deal with your dirty shit laying everywhere. And so there were fliers posted on the door leading outside and the door leading into the kitchen and the door to the bathroom and even inside the kitchen itself. Well, one day, I was going into the kitchen to get something from the refrigerator, and that dude that always gives me dirty looks, along with a few other residents of the floor, was in there. They were all doing various things; I think our local shithead was cooking dinner or something. And when he sees me, he gets all pissy with me: "Did you see the fliers about the meeting this Wednesday?" he demanded to know (not asked; demanded). What a stupid question! Of course I'd seen them, fuckwad; I'm not blind. I was taken aback by the forcefulness of his voice and face, and I just answered that yes, I had seen them. And he continued to harass me: "You MUST be there!"
"Ok," I answered. "I'll be there."
He continued, even more forcefully, with such anger in his voice and on his face: "Do you understand me??! You MUST be there!!!"
What part of "Ok, I'll be there" do you not understand, shitbag? And doing this in front of several people who could have potentially been friends of mine? Obviously this was some sort of intimidation tactic. Or some stupid dick-waving contest.
So, I've avoided that stupid motherfucker like the plague when I can help it--I don't go in and cook dinner when he's in the kitchen; hell, I don't even go into the kitchen when he's there, if I can at all help it. And when I can't help it, I either ignore him or act rude to him. Once, during that stupid floor party that I wouldn't have condescended to attend even had I not had to give a presentation the next day, I made sure to elbow him out of the way when he was blocking my access to the refrigerator. Serves him right, the shitfucker! Think you can fuck with me and get away with it? Think again, fuck face.
Anyway...so, that guy was in the kitchen tonight when I wanted to make dinner... and when he's in the goddamned kitchen, he's in there for hours. Takes his sweet old time cooking a shit ton of food and then gleefully eating it in front of the TV, while yelling "SCHEISSE!!!" at the top of his lungs. So I didn't eat much tonight. Therefore I'm hungry because of idiots on this floor who piss me off, and when I finally go back to kitchen to get something from the fridge, and some little shit (who I'm 95% sure is responsible for at least a third of the noise that goes on at unreasonable hours in this hall) has the balls to ask me why I'm so quiet and why I don't hang out with the other people in this hall, how the fuck do you think I was going to respond???
Let's see...someone from this floor has stolen from me, not once, but TWICE; the fridge and practically everything else here is a piece of crap that doesn't work properly; I get yelled at by an asshole for not even doing anything; you fuckers threw a huge party that could be heard from 5 floors above and that lasted until at least 4 in the morning on the night before I had to give a presentation; and random people go screaming down the halls. Yeah, I don't like you. You people piss me the fuck off like no other. I hate this overpriced, tiny-ass shitbox of a room (two-fucking-hundred-and-thirty euros a month for this kennel...and look, it comes with its own dog shit!!!). You can all shove this building up your ugly asses and go fuck yourselves in Hell.
So, I went into the kitchen to get the last of my apple juice from the fridge, and there was a guy there who was opening a can of tuna. He turned to me, and the following dialogue ensued (I've translated it to English; it was in German originally):
He: Can I speak with you briefly?Ok, so I didn't say the "dickweed" part. But I definitely thought it, and all the rest of the dialogue actually happened.
I: (blank look that said, "really, bitch?") ...um, yeah.
He: Why are you so quiet?
I: Why should I be loud?
He: I mean, why do you never hang out in the kitchen with the other people on this floor?
I: ("bitch, please" look) ...
He: I mean, you're never here with the other people on this floor. Do you not like us or something?
I: Actually no.
He: I mean, so, the people on this floor--you don't like them or what?
I: No, actually, I don't like the majority of people on this floor. They make me mad. (I start to walk out the door)
He: Ok, just wanted to ask. Have a good night.
I: (walking out the door) Yeah, you too, dickweed.
Maybe I wouldn't have been so snippy with him if it hadn't already been a rough night for me. See, there's this one guy on my floor who kinda bothers the hell out of me...well they all kinda bother the hell out of me. But this guy kinda intimidates me too. It's like this: at the beginning of the semester when I first moved in here, I tried to be friendly toward my new neighbors. When I saw them in the kitchen or in the hallway or whatever, I'd smile and wave or say "hi," and most of them would do the same. Or at least they'd fucking nod or show some sort of acknowledgment that I had greeted them. Well this one dude who lives on my floor and whom I've seen since the very beginning (when I first moved in here, there weren't so many people, so I didn't see many people) must hate me or something, because every time I would try to be friendly and smile/wave/say "hi" to him, he never said or did anything other than give me a look like he was disgusted I would dare try to be friendly to my new neighbor (heaven forbid!). But still I persisted, hoping that one day he'd come to accept me as fellow resident and neighbor, if not friend, in this shitty excuse for a dorm, we call Eichendorffring. Because Lord knows it can be rough when you have to live next to, and share common living space with, people who apparently think you're the scum of the earth.
Well eventually, we had to have a floor meeting, because the retards on my floor didn't seem to understand the fact that they are not the only ones who use the kitchen. i.e. you need to clean up after yourself when you're done in the kitchen, dumbasses; neither I nor anyone else wants to deal with your dirty shit laying everywhere. And so there were fliers posted on the door leading outside and the door leading into the kitchen and the door to the bathroom and even inside the kitchen itself. Well, one day, I was going into the kitchen to get something from the refrigerator, and that dude that always gives me dirty looks, along with a few other residents of the floor, was in there. They were all doing various things; I think our local shithead was cooking dinner or something. And when he sees me, he gets all pissy with me: "Did you see the fliers about the meeting this Wednesday?" he demanded to know (not asked; demanded). What a stupid question! Of course I'd seen them, fuckwad; I'm not blind. I was taken aback by the forcefulness of his voice and face, and I just answered that yes, I had seen them. And he continued to harass me: "You MUST be there!"
"Ok," I answered. "I'll be there."
He continued, even more forcefully, with such anger in his voice and on his face: "Do you understand me??! You MUST be there!!!"
What part of "Ok, I'll be there" do you not understand, shitbag? And doing this in front of several people who could have potentially been friends of mine? Obviously this was some sort of intimidation tactic. Or some stupid dick-waving contest.
So, I've avoided that stupid motherfucker like the plague when I can help it--I don't go in and cook dinner when he's in the kitchen; hell, I don't even go into the kitchen when he's there, if I can at all help it. And when I can't help it, I either ignore him or act rude to him. Once, during that stupid floor party that I wouldn't have condescended to attend even had I not had to give a presentation the next day, I made sure to elbow him out of the way when he was blocking my access to the refrigerator. Serves him right, the shitfucker! Think you can fuck with me and get away with it? Think again, fuck face.
Anyway...so, that guy was in the kitchen tonight when I wanted to make dinner... and when he's in the goddamned kitchen, he's in there for hours. Takes his sweet old time cooking a shit ton of food and then gleefully eating it in front of the TV, while yelling "SCHEISSE!!!" at the top of his lungs. So I didn't eat much tonight. Therefore I'm hungry because of idiots on this floor who piss me off, and when I finally go back to kitchen to get something from the fridge, and some little shit (who I'm 95% sure is responsible for at least a third of the noise that goes on at unreasonable hours in this hall) has the balls to ask me why I'm so quiet and why I don't hang out with the other people in this hall, how the fuck do you think I was going to respond???
Let's see...someone from this floor has stolen from me, not once, but TWICE; the fridge and practically everything else here is a piece of crap that doesn't work properly; I get yelled at by an asshole for not even doing anything; you fuckers threw a huge party that could be heard from 5 floors above and that lasted until at least 4 in the morning on the night before I had to give a presentation; and random people go screaming down the halls. Yeah, I don't like you. You people piss me the fuck off like no other. I hate this overpriced, tiny-ass shitbox of a room (two-fucking-hundred-and-thirty euros a month for this kennel...and look, it comes with its own dog shit!!!). You can all shove this building up your ugly asses and go fuck yourselves in Hell.
Fuck you, Scheissendorffring!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Keeping Clean
One stereotype of the Germans is that they're a very clean people--always washing things, and even sweeping the sidewalk. So you'd think washing clothes in Germany wouldn't be such a pain in the Arsch. Au contraire. "Why?" you might ask? Well, because I do it by hand.
Oh, there are washers and driers in Germany. But it costs 2 euros to operate the washers, which are only about half the size of an American washer (even at Denison, it only costs $1.75 to wash, if my memory serves me, and the washers are twice as big). The dryers are only slightly less of a ripoff. The small ones that are half the size of an American dryer will cost you 1 euro and the big ones that are about the size of an American one, if not slightly larger, are 1,50 (Denison dryers are only 75 cents).
Even more frustrating is the fact that when I told my friend who has studied in both Hungary and the Netherlands about the outrageous cost of washing in Germany, he seemed a bit shocked. Guess how much he paid for washing clothes at the dorm he lived in in the Netherlands? Nothing. And in Hungary? Also nothing. Not a penny. The reasoning he gave? Being able to wash clothes is a matter of personal hygiene. You wouldn't charge someone for the toilet paper they use when they go to the bathroom, nor the soap from the soap dispenser when they wash their hands afterward (but then again, this rule doesn't apply to the Germans either. It's actually another one of those things you have to pay for yourself--the bathrooms in the dorms don't have soap. You have to buy your own. Not knowing this, I lacked soap on my first night in Germany and had to wash my hands with shampoo--gross.). You don't make someone pay to use the showers; that would just be tacky (unless you're in the Grand Canyon. Showers there are expensive!). So why, he argued, would you make someone pay to use those tiny, old washers and dryers that probably don't even use 2euros worth of electricity to operate?
I'll answer that: it's because they're Germans and they're ridiculous about nicking you for every pfennig they can lay their hands on. Probably because they don't charge enough for students to actually go to school or something, and they're running low on Geld because of it; I don't know. All I know is that it sucks. It sucks big time. It sucks so much, in fact, that after having washed my clothes in the washer/dryers here just once, I resolved that those greedy s.o.b.'s weren't going to get another euro cent from me, so long as I could help it. So, for the past three months, I've been washing my laundry out by hand in huge Ziploc bags brought from home and in the sink. And to those who say "you can't wash everything out in the sink," I say, "watch me."
Oh, there are washers and driers in Germany. But it costs 2 euros to operate the washers, which are only about half the size of an American washer (even at Denison, it only costs $1.75 to wash, if my memory serves me, and the washers are twice as big). The dryers are only slightly less of a ripoff. The small ones that are half the size of an American dryer will cost you 1 euro and the big ones that are about the size of an American one, if not slightly larger, are 1,50 (Denison dryers are only 75 cents).
Even more frustrating is the fact that when I told my friend who has studied in both Hungary and the Netherlands about the outrageous cost of washing in Germany, he seemed a bit shocked. Guess how much he paid for washing clothes at the dorm he lived in in the Netherlands? Nothing. And in Hungary? Also nothing. Not a penny. The reasoning he gave? Being able to wash clothes is a matter of personal hygiene. You wouldn't charge someone for the toilet paper they use when they go to the bathroom, nor the soap from the soap dispenser when they wash their hands afterward (but then again, this rule doesn't apply to the Germans either. It's actually another one of those things you have to pay for yourself--the bathrooms in the dorms don't have soap. You have to buy your own. Not knowing this, I lacked soap on my first night in Germany and had to wash my hands with shampoo--gross.). You don't make someone pay to use the showers; that would just be tacky (unless you're in the Grand Canyon. Showers there are expensive!). So why, he argued, would you make someone pay to use those tiny, old washers and dryers that probably don't even use 2euros worth of electricity to operate?
I'll answer that: it's because they're Germans and they're ridiculous about nicking you for every pfennig they can lay their hands on. Probably because they don't charge enough for students to actually go to school or something, and they're running low on Geld because of it; I don't know. All I know is that it sucks. It sucks big time. It sucks so much, in fact, that after having washed my clothes in the washer/dryers here just once, I resolved that those greedy s.o.b.'s weren't going to get another euro cent from me, so long as I could help it. So, for the past three months, I've been washing my laundry out by hand in huge Ziploc bags brought from home and in the sink. And to those who say "you can't wash everything out in the sink," I say, "watch me."
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Crazy German
Back in the first few weeks of my time in Giessen, I saw something unusual, but didn’t get a chance to post about it until now. Partly because I couldn’t get the picture onto my computer from my phone (my computer doesn’t have Bluetooth, so I had to wait until I could by a microSD card and transfer the picture from phone to microSD card and from SD card to computer), and partly because I forgot about the picture until now. But now I found the picture I’ve been wanting to show you all for a while…
Can you tell what it is?
Look closer.
It’s a guy sitting in the middle of a busy intersection. While I was out for a walk on one of my first few weeks here, I saw a bunch of people just staring at something. I couldn’t tell what they were looking at, but then I saw it too: a man walking out in the middle of this intersection, probably one of the busiest ones in the city. And I mean he walked straight into the middle. And with no regard for traffic either. What he did next was crazy. He actually sat down in the middle of that intersection. I overheard someone saying something about how he was protesting something or other. Unfortunately I hadn’t been carrying my camera that day, but lucky for me, I had already bought a cell phone that was capable of taking pictures. So I tried to snap the guy’s picture…this was as far in as I could zoom. Well, of course it didn’t take long for the Polizei to show up and cart the guy off. I still to this day don’t know what he was protesting or what happened to him. But I thought it was an amusing story that you would all like to share.
Can you tell what it is?
Look closer.
It’s a guy sitting in the middle of a busy intersection. While I was out for a walk on one of my first few weeks here, I saw a bunch of people just staring at something. I couldn’t tell what they were looking at, but then I saw it too: a man walking out in the middle of this intersection, probably one of the busiest ones in the city. And I mean he walked straight into the middle. And with no regard for traffic either. What he did next was crazy. He actually sat down in the middle of that intersection. I overheard someone saying something about how he was protesting something or other. Unfortunately I hadn’t been carrying my camera that day, but lucky for me, I had already bought a cell phone that was capable of taking pictures. So I tried to snap the guy’s picture…this was as far in as I could zoom. Well, of course it didn’t take long for the Polizei to show up and cart the guy off. I still to this day don’t know what he was protesting or what happened to him. But I thought it was an amusing story that you would all like to share.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Bier and Drinks
On Wednesday I went to a little cookout with my Denison exchange buddies, Jenny and Katharina. That was a lot of fun, and a good opportunity to practice German. So let me take the opportunity to thank both of them for the great time I had. :)
Wednesday was one of those few days when, despite the fact that it was a bit chilly and the possibility of rain hung over our heads, I didn't despise Germany's climate. It was that day that I realized that the Wise Guys were right: summer is what's in your head. It is what you make of it. So, the best strategy is to just have fun anyway, and hope that you don't get rained on (it also helps if you have a little a little alcohol to help keep you warm...now I know why Europeans are all alcoholics: their weather sucks; they need the alcohol to keep them warm/forget about their crappy weather. ;) ).
Speaking of alcohol, when I went to the big party at the sports complex Wednesday night (right after the cookout), I tried something I'm pretty sure you can only find in Germany: beer with cola. I only recommend this for the adventurous and those who love beer. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking when I ordered it, other than "no way this is beer. It's probably some kind of cola drink with some other kind of alcohol." Wrong. It was beer and cola. The first sip was a shock. The next few sips weren't so bad. After that, I just kind of wanted to throw up. But I forced myself to drink it down...and then I bought another one. I have no idea why I did that. I'm not much of a beer person anyway, and mixing beer with anything else was just a bad idea for me. Luckily, I didn't get sick that night or the morning after. But it left my stomach feeling like it had been turned upside-down all day Thursday. Not pleasant.
It didn't help that I'd only gotten about 3 hours of sleep that night. I went to bed around 4am, and woke up around 7am because it had gotten really hot and stuffy in my room and because I felt awful.
Well, at least now I know not to drink that stuff again. You would think the Germans would be purists about their beer, and not let it mix with other drinks. I would have thought that mixing beer with cola would be sacrilegious in this beer-loving society. But I guess the opposite is true. Maybe they think our flavored beers like Mike's Hard are disgusting. I already found out that root beer doesn't exist in Germany. And the Germans who have tried it, don't like it. Who'd have thought?
Wednesday was one of those few days when, despite the fact that it was a bit chilly and the possibility of rain hung over our heads, I didn't despise Germany's climate. It was that day that I realized that the Wise Guys were right: summer is what's in your head. It is what you make of it. So, the best strategy is to just have fun anyway, and hope that you don't get rained on (it also helps if you have a little a little alcohol to help keep you warm...now I know why Europeans are all alcoholics: their weather sucks; they need the alcohol to keep them warm/forget about their crappy weather. ;) ).
Speaking of alcohol, when I went to the big party at the sports complex Wednesday night (right after the cookout), I tried something I'm pretty sure you can only find in Germany: beer with cola. I only recommend this for the adventurous and those who love beer. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking when I ordered it, other than "no way this is beer. It's probably some kind of cola drink with some other kind of alcohol." Wrong. It was beer and cola. The first sip was a shock. The next few sips weren't so bad. After that, I just kind of wanted to throw up. But I forced myself to drink it down...and then I bought another one. I have no idea why I did that. I'm not much of a beer person anyway, and mixing beer with anything else was just a bad idea for me. Luckily, I didn't get sick that night or the morning after. But it left my stomach feeling like it had been turned upside-down all day Thursday. Not pleasant.
It didn't help that I'd only gotten about 3 hours of sleep that night. I went to bed around 4am, and woke up around 7am because it had gotten really hot and stuffy in my room and because I felt awful.
Well, at least now I know not to drink that stuff again. You would think the Germans would be purists about their beer, and not let it mix with other drinks. I would have thought that mixing beer with cola would be sacrilegious in this beer-loving society. But I guess the opposite is true. Maybe they think our flavored beers like Mike's Hard are disgusting. I already found out that root beer doesn't exist in Germany. And the Germans who have tried it, don't like it. Who'd have thought?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Horst Koehler Resigns
Despite the pleas of Chancellor Angela Merkel, Germany's president, Horst Koehler, resigned Monday, due to criticism of remarks he made regarding the German army in Afghanistan. If you were curious to hear what he said, here it is:
What's that? You don't speak German?? Well, ok...here's the translation:
Don't understand what's so offensive in that? Well, essentially what he was saying, is that Germany is in Afghanistan for its own economic gain...so basically, he quit his job for saying what 99% of the population already knew. You don't see American politicians resigning over that kind of stuff... though they accuse each other of it constantly.
Then when I was walking home from the Abendkurs tonight, I was listening to the radio on my phone. They were playing some kind of joke--called up somewhere in Washington and asked in broken English/German, "Can we have Obama?"
"You want Obama?"
"Yeah, we don't have a president. Can we borrow Obama for four weeks, maybe five?"
"You calling the wrong place!"
"Yeah, but see, we need to borrow Obama."
"You calling the wrong place!!!"
That was basically how the conversation went, and it made me laugh.
Meine Einschätzung ist aber, dass insgesamt wir auf dem Wege sind, doch auch in der Breite der Gesellschaft zu verstehen, dass ein Land unserer Größe mit dieser Außenhandelsorientierung und damit auch Außenhandelsabhängigkeit auch wissen muss, dass im Zweifel, im Notfall auch militärischer Einsatz notwendig ist, um unsere Interessen zu wahren, zum Beispiel freie Handelswege, zum Beispiel ganze regionale Instabilitäten zu verhindern, die mit Sicherheit dann auch auf unsere Chancen zurückschlagen negativ durch Handel, Arbeitsplätze und Einkommen.
What's that? You don't speak German?? Well, ok...here's the translation:
In my estimation, though, we—including society as a whole—are broadly on our way towards understanding that a country of our size, with its export-led and hence export-dependent nature, needs to recognize that in cases of uncertainty or emergency, military deployment, too, is necessary if we are to uphold our interests such as ensuring free trade routes or preventing regional instability which is also certain to impair our ability to safeguard trading-related jobs and incomes.~Horst Köhler, Interview with Deutschlandradio, 22 May 2010
Don't understand what's so offensive in that? Well, essentially what he was saying, is that Germany is in Afghanistan for its own economic gain...so basically, he quit his job for saying what 99% of the population already knew. You don't see American politicians resigning over that kind of stuff... though they accuse each other of it constantly.
Then when I was walking home from the Abendkurs tonight, I was listening to the radio on my phone. They were playing some kind of joke--called up somewhere in Washington and asked in broken English/German, "Can we have Obama?"
"You want Obama?"
"Yeah, we don't have a president. Can we borrow Obama for four weeks, maybe five?"
"You calling the wrong place!"
"Yeah, but see, we need to borrow Obama."
"You calling the wrong place!!!"
That was basically how the conversation went, and it made me laugh.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Germany Wins Eurovision 2010!
Yesterday marked the final round in the 2010 Eurovision Song Contest. For those of you who aren't familiar with Eurovision, it's a contest that was originally started in the 1950s by a handful of western European countries, and has gradually expanded so that now basically every European country (and even some non-European countries, like Armenia, Israel, and Georgia) take part. Each country enters a song/singer and then the countries vote (you can even vote by text message--just like American Idol!). And the country with the most votes wins. Voting often goes along geopolitical boundaries (i.e. people often vote for the countries they like, not the songs or singers they like), and some countries have used the song contest for political purposes. For example, Ukraine's entry for Eurovision 2007 supposedly sang "Russia, goodbye" (The song was called "Dancing Lasha Tumbai"--apparently the Russians think "lasha tumbai" sounds like "Russia goodbye"...I still think it's nonsense. =P ) and Georgia's entry for 2009 sang "We don't wanna put in" ("We don't want a Putin"--get it?).
Well, this year, the voters decided they liked Germany the most (Tell you what, Germany: we vote you in number one in Eurovision, and you bail out the EU. Deal?), and voted Lena (not to be confused with Nena) and her song "Satellite" (we've moved passed the 99 red balloons; now we have actual satellites) to the top.
In case you wanted to see this award-winning performance, but missed the competitions, Eurovision posts videos to YouTube.
Here's Germany's song (Don't worry; it's not in German. It was actually written by Americans, and it's in English...which probably also explains both the annoying intonation of this girl when she sings and why she won. What can we say? Americans are just awesome when it comes to writing music):
And here's Lena's reaction after the competition (also in English, but at least her voice isn't quite as nasally here):
So congratulations to Germany on their win!
As to my own personal experiences during Eurovision, I totally forgot it was on...and even had I known it was going on, it's not like I could really watch it anyway, since I don't have a TV here. I would have had to go to a friend's or something. But either way, no one here in Giessen seemed too terribly excited about Germany's win. Sure, I saw a few more German flags than normal when walking to the Mensa today, but those flags have been out for a while now, and I figured they probably have more to do with soccer than with Eurovision. But I didn't see or hear any big celebrations yesterday or today--no cars honking, no drunk people singing the national anthem or anything like that. Maybe someone will mention something at the Landeskunde Aktuell class tomorrow. But other than that, it's just business as usual here in Giessen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
official Eurovision website: http://www.eurovision.tv
Well, this year, the voters decided they liked Germany the most (Tell you what, Germany: we vote you in number one in Eurovision, and you bail out the EU. Deal?), and voted Lena (not to be confused with Nena) and her song "Satellite" (we've moved passed the 99 red balloons; now we have actual satellites) to the top.
In case you wanted to see this award-winning performance, but missed the competitions, Eurovision posts videos to YouTube.
Here's Germany's song (Don't worry; it's not in German. It was actually written by Americans, and it's in English...which probably also explains both the annoying intonation of this girl when she sings and why she won. What can we say? Americans are just awesome when it comes to writing music):
And here's Lena's reaction after the competition (also in English, but at least her voice isn't quite as nasally here):
So congratulations to Germany on their win!
As to my own personal experiences during Eurovision, I totally forgot it was on...and even had I known it was going on, it's not like I could really watch it anyway, since I don't have a TV here. I would have had to go to a friend's or something. But either way, no one here in Giessen seemed too terribly excited about Germany's win. Sure, I saw a few more German flags than normal when walking to the Mensa today, but those flags have been out for a while now, and I figured they probably have more to do with soccer than with Eurovision. But I didn't see or hear any big celebrations yesterday or today--no cars honking, no drunk people singing the national anthem or anything like that. Maybe someone will mention something at the Landeskunde Aktuell class tomorrow. But other than that, it's just business as usual here in Giessen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
official Eurovision website: http://www.eurovision.tv
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Jetzt ist Sommer
As I see the Facebook statuses of my friends update to tell about how they’re finally getting out of school for summer break (or in some cases, getting out of school for good and graduating) or how they’re spending their summer vacation, I get a bit jealous.
Firstly, because I’m still stuck going to classes…not that they’re extremely difficult classes. It’s just that I’m a Faulenzer.
And secondly, because as we move on into summer, I read more statuses about how the weather over there sucks and is rainy or something stupid like that. Which, if you’re only complaining about that once in a while, leads me to believe that normally the weather is, well, normal—sunny and warming up. And so when I come across one of those “Aw man, why is it raining today?” statuses, it makes me want to punch someone. You think having a couple rainy, cloudy, cool days here and there is bad? Try living with it FOR THE PAST THREE MONTHS, jerks! Now I know why the cowboys sang about their home, where the skies are not cloudy all day—because having a home where the skies ARE cloudy all day is really friggin depressing.
Naturally, the Germans have learned to adapt to their habitat, and created a song that perfectly reflects their attitudes toward this crap they call “Sommer.” Take a look:
Here’s my attempt at a translation of the lyrics, for those of you who don’t know German:
Sunglasses on and off to the café,
Where I see pretty women on the street
Then plunge into the middle of the cold pool
And a caipirinha, pretty cool.
Suntan lotion on and down to the sunbathing lawn,
Where I lease a sunning bed for me and Lisa
We let ourselves go and we let ourselves burn
Everything else can wait a while.
And if nothing comes of it because it’s 7 degrees,
Then we’ll pour two sacks of sand in the bathroom.
On the radio they’re playing the summer hit,
We’re singing along in the bathtub:
Now it’s summer, no matter if you sweat or freeze,
Summer is what happens in your head,
It’s summer, I’ve made it clear:
Summer is when you laugh anyway.
Sunroof down, and into the convertible
I don’t really have one, but that’s ok.
Because the fun fades away quickly,
If it only stays in the garage the whole summer.
Sometimes when I see the weather,
I get fantasies of violence, and the weather girl
Would be the first victim of my aggression [No wonder Hitler snapped! It’s this damn weather! ;) ]
Though I know: What good would it do
If one took her word and forced her,
To jump in a bikini into the North Sea
I’d rather make my own weather situation,
When I again and again say:
Now it’s summer, no matter if you sweat or freeze,
Summer is what happens in your head,
It’s summer, I’ve made it clear:
Summer is when you laugh anyway.
I’m mad, when someone steals my bike.
I’m mad, when someone smacks me in the face.
I’m mad, when someone steals my dream woman,
And lies with this woman on my towel by the pool.
Otherwise, I take everything fairly easily,
Because I’m mentally mighty
I just press the little green button,
And the sun comes on in my head:
Now it’s summer, no matter if you sweat or freeze,
Summer is what happens in your head,
It’s summer! Off to the rubber boat—
Winter is now on house ban.
To hell with the weather, no matter if one freezes:
Summer is what happens in your head.
Firstly, because I’m still stuck going to classes…not that they’re extremely difficult classes. It’s just that I’m a Faulenzer.
And secondly, because as we move on into summer, I read more statuses about how the weather over there sucks and is rainy or something stupid like that. Which, if you’re only complaining about that once in a while, leads me to believe that normally the weather is, well, normal—sunny and warming up. And so when I come across one of those “Aw man, why is it raining today?” statuses, it makes me want to punch someone. You think having a couple rainy, cloudy, cool days here and there is bad? Try living with it FOR THE PAST THREE MONTHS, jerks! Now I know why the cowboys sang about their home, where the skies are not cloudy all day—because having a home where the skies ARE cloudy all day is really friggin depressing.
Naturally, the Germans have learned to adapt to their habitat, and created a song that perfectly reflects their attitudes toward this crap they call “Sommer.” Take a look:
Here’s my attempt at a translation of the lyrics, for those of you who don’t know German:
Sunglasses on and off to the café,
Where I see pretty women on the street
Then plunge into the middle of the cold pool
And a caipirinha, pretty cool.
Suntan lotion on and down to the sunbathing lawn,
Where I lease a sunning bed for me and Lisa
We let ourselves go and we let ourselves burn
Everything else can wait a while.
And if nothing comes of it because it’s 7 degrees,
Then we’ll pour two sacks of sand in the bathroom.
On the radio they’re playing the summer hit,
We’re singing along in the bathtub:
Now it’s summer, no matter if you sweat or freeze,
Summer is what happens in your head,
It’s summer, I’ve made it clear:
Summer is when you laugh anyway.
Sunroof down, and into the convertible
I don’t really have one, but that’s ok.
Because the fun fades away quickly,
If it only stays in the garage the whole summer.
Sometimes when I see the weather,
I get fantasies of violence, and the weather girl
Would be the first victim of my aggression [No wonder Hitler snapped! It’s this damn weather! ;) ]
Though I know: What good would it do
If one took her word and forced her,
To jump in a bikini into the North Sea
I’d rather make my own weather situation,
When I again and again say:
Now it’s summer, no matter if you sweat or freeze,
Summer is what happens in your head,
It’s summer, I’ve made it clear:
Summer is when you laugh anyway.
I’m mad, when someone steals my bike.
I’m mad, when someone smacks me in the face.
I’m mad, when someone steals my dream woman,
And lies with this woman on my towel by the pool.
Otherwise, I take everything fairly easily,
Because I’m mentally mighty
I just press the little green button,
And the sun comes on in my head:
Now it’s summer, no matter if you sweat or freeze,
Summer is what happens in your head,
It’s summer! Off to the rubber boat—
Winter is now on house ban.
To hell with the weather, no matter if one freezes:
Summer is what happens in your head.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Long time, no post
Tut mir leid, dear readers, that I haven't written in over a month. A bad combination of illness, busyness, and pure laziness prevented me from writing. My bad.
Firstly, I had a presentation about the Berlin Blockade and Airlift, and I spent a good week preparing for that. It turned out well, though. The teacher really seemed to like it, anyway.
The next week, I got lazy.
The week after that, I got sick with a cold. Damn the rainy, cold German springs! And later that week, I had yet another presentation. This one didn't go as well, because it was a big, information-filled topic--the foreign policy, economic policies, and building up of the army in the Nazi era. We wound up speaking for almost an hour in a presentation that was only supposed to last 20 minutes. And no one seemed quite as enthusiastic as in the first presentation we did. But with that done, I was much happier.
The week after that, I got lazy again...
Which brings us to the present day. So, I think some updates are in order.
A few weeks ago, I returned to Marburg. This time, no pseudo-police tried to get our IDs. And I got to see a lot more of the town, since it was day. I also took another day-trip on another weekend. We went to Cologne, or as it's known in German, "Köln." The trip to Cologne was highlighted by a trip to the big, beautiful, old cathedral and, of course, the chocolate museum, where you can get free chocolate samples--any kid's dream.
Firstly, I had a presentation about the Berlin Blockade and Airlift, and I spent a good week preparing for that. It turned out well, though. The teacher really seemed to like it, anyway.
The next week, I got lazy.
The week after that, I got sick with a cold. Damn the rainy, cold German springs! And later that week, I had yet another presentation. This one didn't go as well, because it was a big, information-filled topic--the foreign policy, economic policies, and building up of the army in the Nazi era. We wound up speaking for almost an hour in a presentation that was only supposed to last 20 minutes. And no one seemed quite as enthusiastic as in the first presentation we did. But with that done, I was much happier.
The week after that, I got lazy again...
Which brings us to the present day. So, I think some updates are in order.
A few weeks ago, I returned to Marburg. This time, no pseudo-police tried to get our IDs. And I got to see a lot more of the town, since it was day. I also took another day-trip on another weekend. We went to Cologne, or as it's known in German, "Köln." The trip to Cologne was highlighted by a trip to the big, beautiful, old cathedral and, of course, the chocolate museum, where you can get free chocolate samples--any kid's dream.
Marburg, Frankfurt and Giessen ain't got nothin on Cologne and its chocolate museum.
And the Cologne Cathedral ain't bad either.
For more pictures of Cologne, click here.
For pictures of Marburg, click here.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Essen, Essen, Horosho!
Back during my first week here, I commented that I didn't like cheap German food. Well, I perhaps made that judgment in haste. The thing is, not all cheap German food is gross; I just didn't particularly like that type of meat. Indeed, since those first few bites of German food, I have come to realize two things which actually contradict my previous assumptions: (1) the vast majority of German food is of high quality, and (2) food in Germany tends to actually be cheaper than a similar product bought in the US. A grocery bill that would cost $30 in the US will only cost 10€ here. There have been days when my grocery bill was as low as 3€, and I think the most I've ever spent on groceries was 16€.
Yes, cheap, good-quality food exists in Germany. At least, that's the case with most food here. The price of peanut butter, however, is an exception...if you can even find the peanut butter, that is. It's not that easy to find, and when you do find it, it's sold only in small, 350 gram jars. And for those tiny jars, the price is something like 1.60€ (that's currently about $2.13). But of course, they give the peanut butter a good, American-sounding name and print the label in English. With it being so difficult to find peanut butter and the price being so high for such small quantities, I've begun to wonder for what, if anything, real Germans use peanut butter.
Milk, while reasonably priced, tastes strange. At least, that was my first thought when I first tried it. (And you won't believe how long it took me to actually find milk! I must have kept overlooking it the first couple weeks here.) At first I thought maybe it wasn't pasteurized, but then I realized that that couldn't have been the case, since I could clearly read "pasteurisiert" on the carton (that's another thing--milk in Germany only comes in cartons; no big plastic gallon jugs here!). I suppose maybe it's because I was drinking 1.5% milk. Milk over here only seems to come in the whole and 1.5% varieties. I think maybe if I had grown up drinking the milk over here, and were to go to the US and drink some of that stuff, I would be saying American milk tastes bland and flavorless. But having come from the other side, I think German milk is too rich and creamy. It almost tasted like coffee creamer when I first tried it, and I was afraid that I'd actually bought half-and-half. But now that I've been drinking the stuff for a few weeks, it's not so bad anymore.
Another interesting drink the Germans have: Apfel Schorle. Basically what it is, is sparkling apple juice. Weird, right? Of course, that's not the only apple-based drink which is plentiful in Germany. This region around Frankfurt, as I learned from a friend, is famous for apple wine. Apple wine, Apfel Schorle, and just plain apples...so basically, as far as food is concerned, Hesse is the Washington of Germany.
While we're on the topic of fruits, oranges are pretty reasonably priced, and are very juicy and just absolutely delicious. I like them even better than most American oranges I've had. Strawberries are a different story. I've tried buying strawberries on two separate occasions while in Germany, and I've never been satisfied with that purchase. Along with generally being more expensive, at least half of the strawberries in the pack are always soft and mushy. Today I even bought one pack that had a strawberry that was already rotting. Quality-wise, grapes are only slightly better. A lot of the grapes were going soft by the time I got them, and they're rather expensive--over 3€ for one of those plastic cartons of grapes that will last one person for maybe three meals. So for now, as far as fruit intake goes, I'm probably going to stick with oranges for the most part.
Well, that's all the food-related cultural wisdom I can think of at the moment. So until the next post, chow--I mean, ciao!
**Note for those who didn't understand the title of this post: "Essen" is German for "food" or "to eat" and "horosho" is Russian for "good." It's a reference to a Verka Serduchka song...don't ask.
Yes, cheap, good-quality food exists in Germany. At least, that's the case with most food here. The price of peanut butter, however, is an exception...if you can even find the peanut butter, that is. It's not that easy to find, and when you do find it, it's sold only in small, 350 gram jars. And for those tiny jars, the price is something like 1.60€ (that's currently about $2.13). But of course, they give the peanut butter a good, American-sounding name and print the label in English. With it being so difficult to find peanut butter and the price being so high for such small quantities, I've begun to wonder for what, if anything, real Germans use peanut butter.
Milk, while reasonably priced, tastes strange. At least, that was my first thought when I first tried it. (And you won't believe how long it took me to actually find milk! I must have kept overlooking it the first couple weeks here.) At first I thought maybe it wasn't pasteurized, but then I realized that that couldn't have been the case, since I could clearly read "pasteurisiert" on the carton (that's another thing--milk in Germany only comes in cartons; no big plastic gallon jugs here!). I suppose maybe it's because I was drinking 1.5% milk. Milk over here only seems to come in the whole and 1.5% varieties. I think maybe if I had grown up drinking the milk over here, and were to go to the US and drink some of that stuff, I would be saying American milk tastes bland and flavorless. But having come from the other side, I think German milk is too rich and creamy. It almost tasted like coffee creamer when I first tried it, and I was afraid that I'd actually bought half-and-half. But now that I've been drinking the stuff for a few weeks, it's not so bad anymore.
Another interesting drink the Germans have: Apfel Schorle. Basically what it is, is sparkling apple juice. Weird, right? Of course, that's not the only apple-based drink which is plentiful in Germany. This region around Frankfurt, as I learned from a friend, is famous for apple wine. Apple wine, Apfel Schorle, and just plain apples...so basically, as far as food is concerned, Hesse is the Washington of Germany.
While we're on the topic of fruits, oranges are pretty reasonably priced, and are very juicy and just absolutely delicious. I like them even better than most American oranges I've had. Strawberries are a different story. I've tried buying strawberries on two separate occasions while in Germany, and I've never been satisfied with that purchase. Along with generally being more expensive, at least half of the strawberries in the pack are always soft and mushy. Today I even bought one pack that had a strawberry that was already rotting. Quality-wise, grapes are only slightly better. A lot of the grapes were going soft by the time I got them, and they're rather expensive--over 3€ for one of those plastic cartons of grapes that will last one person for maybe three meals. So for now, as far as fruit intake goes, I'm probably going to stick with oranges for the most part.
Well, that's all the food-related cultural wisdom I can think of at the moment. So until the next post, chow--I mean, ciao!
**Note for those who didn't understand the title of this post: "Essen" is German for "food" or "to eat" and "horosho" is Russian for "good." It's a reference to a Verka Serduchka song...don't ask.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Eins, Zwei, Polizei
Last weekend was an adventure, yes it was. It all started when a new friend of mine invited me over to her floor's kitchen so that we could have a little pre-game party before we all went to the ERASMUS party. So I and my fellow Denisonian walked to the pre-game party. It took us a long time to get there because we didn't know about the shortcut. We went up to the party, did a lot of talking with the group of friends gathered around there before we all went to the ERASMUS party. The whole night, I and my friend were trying to escape from the crazy guys who were practically trying to dry-rape us on the dance floor. =P I eventually decided to go back to my room at around 3 or 3:30 after having been followed by one of them, despite my repeated protests that "no, it's fine, I don't need you to walk me back to my room; I live close anyway"...creepy. At least nothing bad happened...but I really need to think up some better exit strategies.
So after getting to my room at around 3 or 3:30, I got some sleep. But not much. I had told my friends that I would meet them at 10 the next morning so we could take a trip to some other cities in Hessen, since we can travel for free within this state with our student IDs. Saturday morning I got to their dorm at around 10, but as I had predicted, no one was up or ready. We didn't leave until around 11 or 11:30. And when we got to Frankfurt, we decided to just stay there the rest of the day there instead of going on to any other cities. We went to a store to buy some lunch and ate our lunch on the Main River. After eating lunch, we walked around the city a little more. At one point, a couple members of our group wanted to get some things at the grocery store, Lidl, so the rest of us went to go sit on a bench outside a store across the street, since it's too crowded in the Lidl for everyone to go in, and since we didn't need to buy anything, why would we go in? But an angry-looking woman came out of the store and told us --first in German-- that we were not permitted to sit on that bench. We pretended that we didn't understand, and so she said, in English, "This is our bank. You are not permitted to sit on our bank!" (The German word for "bench" is "Bank," but she must have not realized that "bank" was a false cognate. :) ) Eventually we got on a train back to Giessen. Once we were nearing Giessen, however, we decided it would be fun to stay on the train and go to Marburg instead.
I have heard that Marburg has the most bars per capita in Germany. After being there, I can believe it. We found an interesting bar called "Spock" which didn't have any entry fee. So we went there and we stayed there for a few hours. At around 2 am we left to go to the train station. We planned to find some club to go to, but instead we wound up staying at the station, waiting for the first train to Giessen in the morning. We were sitting in the train station when two young men came up to us, yelling at us to show them our Personalausweise (ID cards), asking us questions about our age and what we were doing in the train station, and saying that they were some sort of police-in-training. The one guy showed us his so-called ID card that supposedly proved he was some kind of trainee cop, but I really doubt it was any real ID, as he didn't even show it to us fully; it was mostly covered by some other card. We told them to leave us alone, that we weren't showing them anything since they weren't in uniform or had any badge or anything like that. But they kept yelling at us and telling us that they were going to call the police, while pulling out a cell phone and pretending they were calling the police. We told them we were just waiting for out train, and once our train came, we were going to get on it and go home. But they kept telling us that we won't be getting on that train because we would have to wait for the Polizei to show up. And we just kept telling them to leave us alone. Then two other men who had been sitting across the station came up and tried to get those "cops" to calm down and leave us alone. Then those guys and the "cops" started shoving each other and had to be held back by these other guys who came walking into the station right then. I gotta say, it was pretty cool. Definitely the most exciting night of my time in Germany.
In the end, the police never showed up, and at 4 am, we were back on a train to Giessen. And that's the story of my big night-out.
So after getting to my room at around 3 or 3:30, I got some sleep. But not much. I had told my friends that I would meet them at 10 the next morning so we could take a trip to some other cities in Hessen, since we can travel for free within this state with our student IDs. Saturday morning I got to their dorm at around 10, but as I had predicted, no one was up or ready. We didn't leave until around 11 or 11:30. And when we got to Frankfurt, we decided to just stay there the rest of the day there instead of going on to any other cities. We went to a store to buy some lunch and ate our lunch on the Main River. After eating lunch, we walked around the city a little more. At one point, a couple members of our group wanted to get some things at the grocery store, Lidl, so the rest of us went to go sit on a bench outside a store across the street, since it's too crowded in the Lidl for everyone to go in, and since we didn't need to buy anything, why would we go in? But an angry-looking woman came out of the store and told us --first in German-- that we were not permitted to sit on that bench. We pretended that we didn't understand, and so she said, in English, "This is our bank. You are not permitted to sit on our bank!" (The German word for "bench" is "Bank," but she must have not realized that "bank" was a false cognate. :) ) Eventually we got on a train back to Giessen. Once we were nearing Giessen, however, we decided it would be fun to stay on the train and go to Marburg instead.
I have heard that Marburg has the most bars per capita in Germany. After being there, I can believe it. We found an interesting bar called "Spock" which didn't have any entry fee. So we went there and we stayed there for a few hours. At around 2 am we left to go to the train station. We planned to find some club to go to, but instead we wound up staying at the station, waiting for the first train to Giessen in the morning. We were sitting in the train station when two young men came up to us, yelling at us to show them our Personalausweise (ID cards), asking us questions about our age and what we were doing in the train station, and saying that they were some sort of police-in-training. The one guy showed us his so-called ID card that supposedly proved he was some kind of trainee cop, but I really doubt it was any real ID, as he didn't even show it to us fully; it was mostly covered by some other card. We told them to leave us alone, that we weren't showing them anything since they weren't in uniform or had any badge or anything like that. But they kept yelling at us and telling us that they were going to call the police, while pulling out a cell phone and pretending they were calling the police. We told them we were just waiting for out train, and once our train came, we were going to get on it and go home. But they kept telling us that we won't be getting on that train because we would have to wait for the Polizei to show up. And we just kept telling them to leave us alone. Then two other men who had been sitting across the station came up and tried to get those "cops" to calm down and leave us alone. Then those guys and the "cops" started shoving each other and had to be held back by these other guys who came walking into the station right then. I gotta say, it was pretty cool. Definitely the most exciting night of my time in Germany.
In the end, the police never showed up, and at 4 am, we were back on a train to Giessen. And that's the story of my big night-out.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The First Week in Review
Okay, people listen up. This is going to be a long post, since I've been lazy this past week and haven't written anything. So if you have to go to the bathroom, go now. I don't want you getting up and leaving in the middle of my blog entry. ;)
I guess we'll start with last Saturday, where I left off. As you may or may not recall, I went on a little "field trip" on Saturday. On that excursion, we visited the nearby towns of Wetzlar and Braunfels. I would post pictures, but I figure it's just easier if I give you all the link to the photos, since they're already online. So...here ya go:
Wetzlar and Braunfels
I was tired and wasn't feeling so well at some points of the journey, but still had fun. We saw beautiful old buildings, a cathedral that serves both Catholics and Protestants, and even a castle. These towns might have even been cuter than Butzbach. Though it's still a tight race. Speaking of tight, in these tiny, medieval streets, claustrophobia isn't an option.
The castle in Braunfels is especially interesting, because the family still lives in that castle. They have little kids who go to school just like normal kids...but they live in real castle. When I thought about it, as cool as it would be to tell people that you live in a castle, I don't think I would ever want to live in a castle myself, as it's rather chilly, due to the lack of heating. While at that castle, I had to keep reminding myself how old and historic this building is. How many generations of European nobility have walked those same corridors. It's an amazing concept to think about. I would have loved to have taken pictures inside the castle, but unfortunately, no photography is allowed on the inside. So you'll all have to just visit it personally if you want to see what the inside looked like. ;)
I can't remember doing anything noteworthy on Sunday, so we'll skip that day.
Monday began classes. I only had one class, but it was a bit of a disappointment. Well, no, I can't really say "disappointment," because it was about what I expected it to be--a German literature course, much like the one I took last semester. But the teacher (I'm pretty sure he was just a TA) seemed really bored and didn't look like he wanted to be there himself. He didn't project a lot of energy, and the class was probably just as bored...bored, or perhaps intimidated. Talking with several other students after the class, I got the impression that I may be the only one left taking that course. Scary.
On a positive note, I finally got my chipcard on Monday. Now I can ride the regional buses and trains for free. Hooray! I can also now wash my clothes in the washers downstairs, get food from the Mensa (cafeteria), and check out books from the library.
Tuesday I took one of two placement tests. I walked into the test late (I was told it didn't start until 12:30, but apparently I was misinformed, and it seems it started at 12:00 or 12:15...). But even though I came late, I still finished in 15 or 20 minutes. It was just that easy. And the placement test the next day, on Wednesday, was not much more difficult. Also on Wednesday: the meeting with the people from the Ausländerbehörde. Everything went so smoothly and easily. And the best part is we didn't even have to pay the 60 Euros I was told we were going to have to pay...unless we pay tomorrow (actually today) when we pick up our passports.
And then there were the two classes I had today (actually yesterday now). Both of them also taught by a TA. But at least this one seemed a lot more interested in the subject or a lot more interested in teaching. She was just much more energetic and seemed more approachable than the first guy.
But all work and no play makes Jill a dull girl. I couldn't write about my first week back without talking about the parties. Almost every night this week there has been some kind of party or social gathering. On Monday night, I met with my old Denison exchange buddies, Jenny and Katharina, along with several of their friends, for a party in their apartment, and afterward we went to Ulenspiegel...again. Having consumed a few drinks before going, and having met even more friends, it was the most pleasant experience at Ulenspiegel yet. And what's more, I somehow got in without paying a cover charge...I guess they weren't charging that night. Tuesday night, I went with Henry to go meet his study buddy and her friend at a restaurant and then later the four of us went to a restaurant/bar. Much more low-key than the previous night. Then Wednesday night there was some other party, which I didn't go to. I don't know if there was anything tonight, but I do know that there's something going on Friday night. The party never ends in Europe.
I was going to write in some more cultural notes that I've observed. But I think I'll save that for another post. Again, it's getting late (why am I writing all my posts at 3 am now?), and I think I should be getting to bed. Besides, I figured it would make more sense to separate the "events" posts from the "notes" posts. So keep on checking back; I'm going to try to update more frequently, though I can't guarantee anything, since I already have three "Referatte" (like a speech) due in the next several weeks. I don't know how busy I'll be kept, but I'm pretty sure I'll still have plenty of time for updating this thing semi-frequently. Stay tuned!
I guess we'll start with last Saturday, where I left off. As you may or may not recall, I went on a little "field trip" on Saturday. On that excursion, we visited the nearby towns of Wetzlar and Braunfels. I would post pictures, but I figure it's just easier if I give you all the link to the photos, since they're already online. So...here ya go:
Wetzlar and Braunfels
I was tired and wasn't feeling so well at some points of the journey, but still had fun. We saw beautiful old buildings, a cathedral that serves both Catholics and Protestants, and even a castle. These towns might have even been cuter than Butzbach. Though it's still a tight race. Speaking of tight, in these tiny, medieval streets, claustrophobia isn't an option.
The castle in Braunfels is especially interesting, because the family still lives in that castle. They have little kids who go to school just like normal kids...but they live in real castle. When I thought about it, as cool as it would be to tell people that you live in a castle, I don't think I would ever want to live in a castle myself, as it's rather chilly, due to the lack of heating. While at that castle, I had to keep reminding myself how old and historic this building is. How many generations of European nobility have walked those same corridors. It's an amazing concept to think about. I would have loved to have taken pictures inside the castle, but unfortunately, no photography is allowed on the inside. So you'll all have to just visit it personally if you want to see what the inside looked like. ;)
I can't remember doing anything noteworthy on Sunday, so we'll skip that day.
Monday began classes. I only had one class, but it was a bit of a disappointment. Well, no, I can't really say "disappointment," because it was about what I expected it to be--a German literature course, much like the one I took last semester. But the teacher (I'm pretty sure he was just a TA) seemed really bored and didn't look like he wanted to be there himself. He didn't project a lot of energy, and the class was probably just as bored...bored, or perhaps intimidated. Talking with several other students after the class, I got the impression that I may be the only one left taking that course. Scary.
On a positive note, I finally got my chipcard on Monday. Now I can ride the regional buses and trains for free. Hooray! I can also now wash my clothes in the washers downstairs, get food from the Mensa (cafeteria), and check out books from the library.
Tuesday I took one of two placement tests. I walked into the test late (I was told it didn't start until 12:30, but apparently I was misinformed, and it seems it started at 12:00 or 12:15...). But even though I came late, I still finished in 15 or 20 minutes. It was just that easy. And the placement test the next day, on Wednesday, was not much more difficult. Also on Wednesday: the meeting with the people from the Ausländerbehörde. Everything went so smoothly and easily. And the best part is we didn't even have to pay the 60 Euros I was told we were going to have to pay...unless we pay tomorrow (actually today) when we pick up our passports.
And then there were the two classes I had today (actually yesterday now). Both of them also taught by a TA. But at least this one seemed a lot more interested in the subject or a lot more interested in teaching. She was just much more energetic and seemed more approachable than the first guy.
But all work and no play makes Jill a dull girl. I couldn't write about my first week back without talking about the parties. Almost every night this week there has been some kind of party or social gathering. On Monday night, I met with my old Denison exchange buddies, Jenny and Katharina, along with several of their friends, for a party in their apartment, and afterward we went to Ulenspiegel...again. Having consumed a few drinks before going, and having met even more friends, it was the most pleasant experience at Ulenspiegel yet. And what's more, I somehow got in without paying a cover charge...I guess they weren't charging that night. Tuesday night, I went with Henry to go meet his study buddy and her friend at a restaurant and then later the four of us went to a restaurant/bar. Much more low-key than the previous night. Then Wednesday night there was some other party, which I didn't go to. I don't know if there was anything tonight, but I do know that there's something going on Friday night. The party never ends in Europe.
I was going to write in some more cultural notes that I've observed. But I think I'll save that for another post. Again, it's getting late (why am I writing all my posts at 3 am now?), and I think I should be getting to bed. Besides, I figured it would make more sense to separate the "events" posts from the "notes" posts. So keep on checking back; I'm going to try to update more frequently, though I can't guarantee anything, since I already have three "Referatte" (like a speech) due in the next several weeks. I don't know how busy I'll be kept, but I'm pretty sure I'll still have plenty of time for updating this thing semi-frequently. Stay tuned!
Saturday, April 10, 2010
German-Americans or Germans in America?
Tonight I decided to go to the "Amerikanischer Kochabend" (literally "American cooking-evening") at the Lokal International--a meeting point for Giesseners and students from all over the world to come and meet. I wasn't particularly hungry, as I'd had my first Döner kebab only a couple hours earlier. I just wanted to see what the German take on American food was. As I had predicted, their idea of American food was cheeseburgers, chicken wings, and French fries...and rice? Well okay, the rice I didn't really expect. But the fast food-style stuff was pretty predictable. Though no one seemed that impressed with it. I for one didn't hate it--the buns were stale and they used some weird sauce on the cheeseburgers that tasted like nothing I've ever had before...but I guess it wasn't the worst food I've ever had. And certainly not the worst food I've ever had in Germany (I still gag even thinking about the 0.99 EUR meat).
After everyone had finished eating and cleared away the plates, some people began playing games, while others went home and still others began conversations. One young man from Israel told me I looked like Avril Lavigne...not quite sure what to make of that. I guess that's a compliment?
Then I spent a lot of time talking to one girl "from" California...actually, she's a Korean-German (born in Germany to Korean parents). And from what I understood, she was raised mostly in Germany. But she spent some time in Canada in high school as an exchange student. And then she attended college at the University of California, and now she's back in Germany, studying medicine. The weird thing is that her English was perfect. I didn't even notice any accents. And she kept calling "Cali" her home, and saying she was "from Cali" and a "Bay-area girl."
Then after we got bored of the Lokal International, we went to Ulenspiegel. Waited in line for around 2 hours just to get in. It was worse than the last time I went there. Except that this time I wasn't as tired as I was the first time, and this time I was with a few more friends than last time. I also knew more of the songs. So it was slightly more enjoyable the second time around...but only slightly. I take points off for the long wait.
This time was also more interesting because as we were waiting in line, some people started talking to us. One somewhat drunk German guy came up to us and asking us all if we were ERASMUS students (Henry and I are, the other two girls we were with are not), and where we were from. Having had to answer this question so many times already, I decided it would be more fun to have the other person guess. After a long struggle of trying to explain that I wanted him to guess (he thought I was telling him the name of a town, and he kept saying "I've never heard of that city. Where is it?"), he looked me over a couple times before making his judgement. "Chicago!" he pronounced. We all thought that was really funny that he was able to get it right on the first try. I wonder what it was that gave me away.
Then later on we met another guy in line. This guy had a really strange accent--he almost sounded like he was from Minnesota or some backwater town in Canada. But claimed to be from Wisconsin. I later found out that he too was actually a German (though his parents were from Poland) who went to college in the US, and more specifically, in Wisconsin.
One would think that meeting other Americans--even pseudo-Americans--here in Germany would be comforting. Like knowing you're not alone. But I just feel like staying away from Americans. Some of the other Americans I've seen or sort of met just seem like the sort of people I don't even want to hang out with when I'm home. So why would I hang out with them here? And aren't we supposed to be meeting Germans anyway?
But one thing that particularly got to me on this night, that probably would never have bothered me in the past, was all these Germans who were saying that they were "from" America. I imagine it to feel a bit like the irritation some Chicagoans feel when a suburbanite claims to be from Chicago. (I've known some who get really upset when this happens. I've never really fully understood why, though.) But though I've never had any major problem with a suburbanite saying they're from Chicago, tonight, for some reason, it just irritated me a little that Germans were saying they were from America, even though they are not American citizens and had only lived in the US for a couple years at most. I go to school in a small town in central Ohio. But when I graduate next year, if I move to another country, I'm not going to be telling people that I'm from Ohio. Nor would I tell them that I'm from Giessen, Germany, just because I happen to be living there currently. But it's just so strange that I felt this irritation toward someone claiming to be from somewhere else. I don't normally care where people want to call their home, since it's such a trivial thing and it's really all about what you personally consider to be your "home".
And as I was standing in that long line in front of Ulenspiegel thinking about these German-Americans or Germans in America, I couldn't help compare it to my own experiences of people I know living in the US. As I said, I would never consider myself an Ohioan, even though I've sort of lived, worked, and went to school there for most of the past two and a half years. Growing up, we often moved every couple of years, and it never took long before I considered myself a part of the new town or new school or whatever else it was that I was being introduced to. But now I feel so much more sedentary. And one of my German professors once told the class that he always tells people that he comes from Pennsylvania, which is where he grew up, even though he's been living and teaching in Ohio for many years.
Well, I wanted to say sedentary, but not really. Because it's not that I want to live my entire life within the Chicago area. But at the same time, I don't know that I could ever call any other city, state, or country my true "home." Yet these Germans were ready to latch on to another country entirely and claim to be "from" there. Maybe they just wanted to make us feel at home. Maybe they wanted to seem cool. Or maybe they really do adopt new homelands quickly.
One would think that of any people, it would be the Americans who wouldn't become so attached to any one city. After all, it's often pointed out to me that Americans generally move more frequently than Europeans. And Americans also have that history of being a nation comprised mostly of people who left their own homelands. To stay within one's own town his or her entire life would make that person seem incredibly provincial, almost medieval. But yet, it seems that so many of us just choose the region in which we grew up to call our "home," even when we live somewhere else for 20 years.
I just don't know what to make of these differences in mentality. I think I need to sleep on it a little. It's getting late, after all (nearly 3:30 am...so just ignore any weird typing I might have done tonight, since I'm not really in my right mind; I just had to write this before I went to bed.), and I have to get up early tomorrow (field trip!). But I'm going to continue to think about this question. Any input from my dear readers is appreciated as well. So if you have any information on what you consider to be your homeland and what exactly do the words "home" and "homeland" mean for you or what you think could be the reason for the difference in mentalities between Americans and Germans, then write me an email, leave a comment, or contact me directly (for those who know me personally).
After everyone had finished eating and cleared away the plates, some people began playing games, while others went home and still others began conversations. One young man from Israel told me I looked like Avril Lavigne...not quite sure what to make of that. I guess that's a compliment?
Then I spent a lot of time talking to one girl "from" California...actually, she's a Korean-German (born in Germany to Korean parents). And from what I understood, she was raised mostly in Germany. But she spent some time in Canada in high school as an exchange student. And then she attended college at the University of California, and now she's back in Germany, studying medicine. The weird thing is that her English was perfect. I didn't even notice any accents. And she kept calling "Cali" her home, and saying she was "from Cali" and a "Bay-area girl."
Then after we got bored of the Lokal International, we went to Ulenspiegel. Waited in line for around 2 hours just to get in. It was worse than the last time I went there. Except that this time I wasn't as tired as I was the first time, and this time I was with a few more friends than last time. I also knew more of the songs. So it was slightly more enjoyable the second time around...but only slightly. I take points off for the long wait.
This time was also more interesting because as we were waiting in line, some people started talking to us. One somewhat drunk German guy came up to us and asking us all if we were ERASMUS students (Henry and I are, the other two girls we were with are not), and where we were from. Having had to answer this question so many times already, I decided it would be more fun to have the other person guess. After a long struggle of trying to explain that I wanted him to guess (he thought I was telling him the name of a town, and he kept saying "I've never heard of that city. Where is it?"), he looked me over a couple times before making his judgement. "Chicago!" he pronounced. We all thought that was really funny that he was able to get it right on the first try. I wonder what it was that gave me away.
Then later on we met another guy in line. This guy had a really strange accent--he almost sounded like he was from Minnesota or some backwater town in Canada. But claimed to be from Wisconsin. I later found out that he too was actually a German (though his parents were from Poland) who went to college in the US, and more specifically, in Wisconsin.
One would think that meeting other Americans--even pseudo-Americans--here in Germany would be comforting. Like knowing you're not alone. But I just feel like staying away from Americans. Some of the other Americans I've seen or sort of met just seem like the sort of people I don't even want to hang out with when I'm home. So why would I hang out with them here? And aren't we supposed to be meeting Germans anyway?
But one thing that particularly got to me on this night, that probably would never have bothered me in the past, was all these Germans who were saying that they were "from" America. I imagine it to feel a bit like the irritation some Chicagoans feel when a suburbanite claims to be from Chicago. (I've known some who get really upset when this happens. I've never really fully understood why, though.) But though I've never had any major problem with a suburbanite saying they're from Chicago, tonight, for some reason, it just irritated me a little that Germans were saying they were from America, even though they are not American citizens and had only lived in the US for a couple years at most. I go to school in a small town in central Ohio. But when I graduate next year, if I move to another country, I'm not going to be telling people that I'm from Ohio. Nor would I tell them that I'm from Giessen, Germany, just because I happen to be living there currently. But it's just so strange that I felt this irritation toward someone claiming to be from somewhere else. I don't normally care where people want to call their home, since it's such a trivial thing and it's really all about what you personally consider to be your "home".
And as I was standing in that long line in front of Ulenspiegel thinking about these German-Americans or Germans in America, I couldn't help compare it to my own experiences of people I know living in the US. As I said, I would never consider myself an Ohioan, even though I've sort of lived, worked, and went to school there for most of the past two and a half years. Growing up, we often moved every couple of years, and it never took long before I considered myself a part of the new town or new school or whatever else it was that I was being introduced to. But now I feel so much more sedentary. And one of my German professors once told the class that he always tells people that he comes from Pennsylvania, which is where he grew up, even though he's been living and teaching in Ohio for many years.
Well, I wanted to say sedentary, but not really. Because it's not that I want to live my entire life within the Chicago area. But at the same time, I don't know that I could ever call any other city, state, or country my true "home." Yet these Germans were ready to latch on to another country entirely and claim to be "from" there. Maybe they just wanted to make us feel at home. Maybe they wanted to seem cool. Or maybe they really do adopt new homelands quickly.
One would think that of any people, it would be the Americans who wouldn't become so attached to any one city. After all, it's often pointed out to me that Americans generally move more frequently than Europeans. And Americans also have that history of being a nation comprised mostly of people who left their own homelands. To stay within one's own town his or her entire life would make that person seem incredibly provincial, almost medieval. But yet, it seems that so many of us just choose the region in which we grew up to call our "home," even when we live somewhere else for 20 years.
I just don't know what to make of these differences in mentality. I think I need to sleep on it a little. It's getting late, after all (nearly 3:30 am...so just ignore any weird typing I might have done tonight, since I'm not really in my right mind; I just had to write this before I went to bed.), and I have to get up early tomorrow (field trip!). But I'm going to continue to think about this question. Any input from my dear readers is appreciated as well. So if you have any information on what you consider to be your homeland and what exactly do the words "home" and "homeland" mean for you or what you think could be the reason for the difference in mentalities between Americans and Germans, then write me an email, leave a comment, or contact me directly (for those who know me personally).
Friday, March 26, 2010
We're All Living in Amerika!
We're all living in Amerika. Amerika ist wunderbar!
So sang famous metal group "Rammstein" in their song entitled "Amerika". Now having spent some time in Rammstein's native land of Germany, I can begin to see their point. America is everywhere--from the American military personnel I saw in the Frankfurt airport (question: do we really need army bases in Germany? Are we trying to stop the Nazis from coming to power again, or something?) to the numerous signs in English which I mentioned in a previous post.
And our "food" (if you can really call it that) is everywhere. What, you thought having a McDonald's, a Subway, a Burger King, and a KFC in every city was enough? Think again. There is a small restaurant chain here called "American Fried Chicken." I also was fortunate enough to find "American sandwich bread" in the local grocery store. (Unfortunately, after that first loaf of sunflower seed bread, I don't have enough teeth left to actually eat the American bread. ;) )
To be fair, there are other international restaurants here in Germany as well. There's a sushi restaurant (which has a sign, in English, that reads "All you can eat"), a number of Italian restaurants (one has a sign that advertises "Coffee to go"), French restaurants, and Chinese restaurants. But I guess it's the type of food that's advertised as being particularly American that irritates me a little. I'm not saying I don't enjoy so-called "American" food every now-and-then, but do they really think all we eat is fast food and chicken?
I was told once, that when it comes to certain cultural knowledge, only certain pieces of information get exported. Take, for instance, a conversation I had with a girl from Belarus a few months ago. She was talking about how she likes her English class, and how they read all kinds of articles about interesting facts about English-speaking countries. One article in particular was all about Americans' love-affair with hot dogs. I learned from her that there actually exists in our fair country a "National Hot Dog Month." I don't know if any of you have ever heard of said month before, but I know I hadn't, and I'm not quite sure why she needed to be taught that. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think most Americans would particularly want to actively advertise to the world how many hot dogs they stuff their faces with every year. So either it's the receiving country that decides which cultural information they will let their students learn, or else the hot dog companies have a large stake in indoctrinating Belarus's youth to buy their products. (Oscar Mayer, you devil, you!)
Then there's the story I heard from a Russian boy who told me that chicken legs are sometimes called "Bush's legs" (that's Bush as in former president George Bush Sr.), because apparently after the fall of communism, Russian markets became flooded with American chicken. So the Russians think we eat a lot of chicken here-- er, I mean in America. Oh the wonders that are capitalism and globalization!
I guess if it's true that you are what you eat, then we can all be Americans. But the "Americolonization," as it's sometimes referred to, doesn't stop with food. Now we have them listening to our music, watching our films, and yes, even wearing our clothes. Just down the street from the American Fried Chicken in Giessen, there's a small clothing store that specializes in making you look like a rapper. In the words of Ali G, "Booyakasha!"
If you don't like gangsta clothing, you can also shop at T.K. Maxx, the German version of T.J. Maxx:
Yes, Germans watch The Simpsons.
Not necessarily American food, but a few of many restaurants with at least some English words in the names.
And of course, the ubiquitous McDonald's:
In Germany, a lot of other shops have taken the "Mc" prefix from McDonald's and attached it to other English words in an effort to make it seem like their service is quick and efficient. This shop sells paper, notebooks, envelopes, etc.
So, there you have it. Proof that Rammstein were not just being whiny little b*tches when they complained that America is taking over the world. I think my next task will be to figure out why American things are so popular, other than the fact that America is totally awesome.
So sang famous metal group "Rammstein" in their song entitled "Amerika". Now having spent some time in Rammstein's native land of Germany, I can begin to see their point. America is everywhere--from the American military personnel I saw in the Frankfurt airport (question: do we really need army bases in Germany? Are we trying to stop the Nazis from coming to power again, or something?) to the numerous signs in English which I mentioned in a previous post.
And our "food" (if you can really call it that) is everywhere. What, you thought having a McDonald's, a Subway, a Burger King, and a KFC in every city was enough? Think again. There is a small restaurant chain here called "American Fried Chicken." I also was fortunate enough to find "American sandwich bread" in the local grocery store. (Unfortunately, after that first loaf of sunflower seed bread, I don't have enough teeth left to actually eat the American bread. ;) )
To be fair, there are other international restaurants here in Germany as well. There's a sushi restaurant (which has a sign, in English, that reads "All you can eat"), a number of Italian restaurants (one has a sign that advertises "Coffee to go"), French restaurants, and Chinese restaurants. But I guess it's the type of food that's advertised as being particularly American that irritates me a little. I'm not saying I don't enjoy so-called "American" food every now-and-then, but do they really think all we eat is fast food and chicken?
I was told once, that when it comes to certain cultural knowledge, only certain pieces of information get exported. Take, for instance, a conversation I had with a girl from Belarus a few months ago. She was talking about how she likes her English class, and how they read all kinds of articles about interesting facts about English-speaking countries. One article in particular was all about Americans' love-affair with hot dogs. I learned from her that there actually exists in our fair country a "National Hot Dog Month." I don't know if any of you have ever heard of said month before, but I know I hadn't, and I'm not quite sure why she needed to be taught that. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think most Americans would particularly want to actively advertise to the world how many hot dogs they stuff their faces with every year. So either it's the receiving country that decides which cultural information they will let their students learn, or else the hot dog companies have a large stake in indoctrinating Belarus's youth to buy their products. (Oscar Mayer, you devil, you!)
Then there's the story I heard from a Russian boy who told me that chicken legs are sometimes called "Bush's legs" (that's Bush as in former president George Bush Sr.), because apparently after the fall of communism, Russian markets became flooded with American chicken. So the Russians think we eat a lot of chicken here-- er, I mean in America. Oh the wonders that are capitalism and globalization!
I guess if it's true that you are what you eat, then we can all be Americans. But the "Americolonization," as it's sometimes referred to, doesn't stop with food. Now we have them listening to our music, watching our films, and yes, even wearing our clothes. Just down the street from the American Fried Chicken in Giessen, there's a small clothing store that specializes in making you look like a rapper. In the words of Ali G, "Booyakasha!"
If you don't like gangsta clothing, you can also shop at T.K. Maxx, the German version of T.J. Maxx:
Yes, Germans watch The Simpsons.
Not necessarily American food, but a few of many restaurants with at least some English words in the names.
And of course, the ubiquitous McDonald's:
In Germany, a lot of other shops have taken the "Mc" prefix from McDonald's and attached it to other English words in an effort to make it seem like their service is quick and efficient. This shop sells paper, notebooks, envelopes, etc.
So, there you have it. Proof that Rammstein were not just being whiny little b*tches when they complained that America is taking over the world. I think my next task will be to figure out why American things are so popular, other than the fact that America is totally awesome.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
learning to party, German-style
**Warning: The following entry contains a lot of talk about alcohol. The purchase of and consumption of this entry is prohibited in the U.S. to people under the age of 21...but this is Europe, so go ahead and have a couple drinks, minors!**
Last week, I received a few questions on the subject of St. Patrick's Day. Originally I had planned to be out of Germany and exploring the rest of Europe by train (gotta use my EuRail pass sometime!), and had thought it might be cool to go to Ireland for St. Patrick's Day. Unfortunately, fate and German bureaucracy were against me. So, I'm still in Germany and haven't left once. So how do the Germans celebrate St. Patty's Day? Answer: they don't. At least, they don't seem to celebrate it in this town. I saw no one wearing green or shamrocks. There were no paper leprechauns adorning office halls and windows. No parades. No green beer. Nothing. It's not that I expected there to be any mention of the holiday. I'd always heard that it's a far bigger holiday in the U.S. than even in Ireland itself, so why would anyone in Germany care about the 17th of March? After all, they're probably still hungover from all the normal-colored beer they had at Oktoberfest. So, to answer your questions: no, St. Patrick's Day is not celebrated in Germany... or at least not in Giessen.
Though I may not have been celebrating Irish-style on the 17th, I did hear about a club, which I visited this past Saturday night. It was rather crowded, cost 3 EUR to get in, and I didn't know half the songs they played. Not the worst party I've ever been to, but I think I prefer American college parties. I might give the place another shot in a few weeks, though, after I've met some more people in the area.
On a non-German alcohol note, I tried Tokaji wine for the first time this past Saturday. (It's Hungarian.) Now, I'm not much of a wino...but that Tokaji is some good stuff!
Last week, I received a few questions on the subject of St. Patrick's Day. Originally I had planned to be out of Germany and exploring the rest of Europe by train (gotta use my EuRail pass sometime!), and had thought it might be cool to go to Ireland for St. Patrick's Day. Unfortunately, fate and German bureaucracy were against me. So, I'm still in Germany and haven't left once. So how do the Germans celebrate St. Patty's Day? Answer: they don't. At least, they don't seem to celebrate it in this town. I saw no one wearing green or shamrocks. There were no paper leprechauns adorning office halls and windows. No parades. No green beer. Nothing. It's not that I expected there to be any mention of the holiday. I'd always heard that it's a far bigger holiday in the U.S. than even in Ireland itself, so why would anyone in Germany care about the 17th of March? After all, they're probably still hungover from all the normal-colored beer they had at Oktoberfest. So, to answer your questions: no, St. Patrick's Day is not celebrated in Germany... or at least not in Giessen.
Though I may not have been celebrating Irish-style on the 17th, I did hear about a club, which I visited this past Saturday night. It was rather crowded, cost 3 EUR to get in, and I didn't know half the songs they played. Not the worst party I've ever been to, but I think I prefer American college parties. I might give the place another shot in a few weeks, though, after I've met some more people in the area.
On a non-German alcohol note, I tried Tokaji wine for the first time this past Saturday. (It's Hungarian.) Now, I'm not much of a wino...but that Tokaji is some good stuff!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
You're not from around here, are you?
I have returned from the Ausländeramt. It was so much clearer and easier than I had been worrying about.
The good news: I still have plenty of time to get everything in order (I need passport-style photos, German health insurance (apparently American insurance isn't good enough for them =P ), proof that I can support myself while in Germany, 60 EUR, and some sort of notification from the university).
The bad news: I have to get passport-style photos, because apparently the ones I brought from home weren't good enough.
The upside: they're only 6 EUR.
The downside: they're 6 EUR. =P
Not to mention that I have to pay ten times that just to be able to register with the stupid office. And then there's the damn health insurance. Grr, Germany. Though I guess there's probably a similar procedure for foreigners in any other country...except maybe Spain. I heard their immigration laws are really lax... Oh Europe, the land of contrasts.
The good news: I still have plenty of time to get everything in order (I need passport-style photos, German health insurance (apparently American insurance isn't good enough for them =P ), proof that I can support myself while in Germany, 60 EUR, and some sort of notification from the university).
The bad news: I have to get passport-style photos, because apparently the ones I brought from home weren't good enough.
The upside: they're only 6 EUR.
The downside: they're 6 EUR. =P
Not to mention that I have to pay ten times that just to be able to register with the stupid office. And then there's the damn health insurance. Grr, Germany. Though I guess there's probably a similar procedure for foreigners in any other country...except maybe Spain. I heard their immigration laws are really lax... Oh Europe, the land of contrasts.
Thank you, God. Thank you, Sparkasse. F you, Postbank.
German bureaucracy is killing me. It took me forever to open up a bank account. Word to the wise: if you have to open up a German bank account, don't go with Postbank. You'll keep going back to check when your account is open, but as soon as you go back, they'll ask you for yet another document. Sparkasse is so much quicker and easier. I wish I had tried them when I first got here, instead of waiting a week. =P
And today I have to go to the office where they handle foreign residents who will be living in Germany temporarily. Gotta go register there to get a residency permit. Ugh, I hate having to go to all these offices, talk with all these people, fill out all these forms. Thank God I have a "study buddy" who's helping me with this stuff. I don't know how I'd manage without her. But even with her help, I'm so sick of this bureaucracy. Is any other country this crazy about paperwork?
On a happier note, the weather seems to be getting better. That, or I'm getting used to it. But it's not so bitter anymore. And from what I heard, we're supposed to have good weather by Friday or this weekend.
And today I have to go to the office where they handle foreign residents who will be living in Germany temporarily. Gotta go register there to get a residency permit. Ugh, I hate having to go to all these offices, talk with all these people, fill out all these forms. Thank God I have a "study buddy" who's helping me with this stuff. I don't know how I'd manage without her. But even with her help, I'm so sick of this bureaucracy. Is any other country this crazy about paperwork?
On a happier note, the weather seems to be getting better. That, or I'm getting used to it. But it's not so bitter anymore. And from what I heard, we're supposed to have good weather by Friday or this weekend.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Peace of Nothing?
So, I walked past that one building that had the funny graffiti on it today, and found out what it really said...it didn't say "peace of nothing"...it said "peace of fuck"...yeah. Still not sure what that's supposed to mean.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Butzbach
Today I woke up really early to get on a train to meet my "study buddy"/friend in Butzbach. This adorable city is a 20 minute train ride from Giessen. I would have taken pictures, except that I was an idiot and forgot my camera at home. But maybe I'll go back there later and take some photos then. But really, it was like a town from a fairy tale. We walked around the town, visited a church or two, and a went into a museum with all kinds of artifacts, some dating back to Roman times. Really an amazing little place.
Coming home from the train station, a girl asked me for directions to the train station. Score for looking like a local!
Five minutes later, a guy I passed on the street stared intently at me and said, "ciao, bella!" Lose a point, go back to start.
Coming home from the train station, a girl asked me for directions to the train station. Score for looking like a local!
Five minutes later, a guy I passed on the street stared intently at me and said, "ciao, bella!" Lose a point, go back to start.
Lazy Sunday
After all the walking I've been doing this last week, I'm taking today to rest and just not go anywhere. Just letting my legs heal a bit, and trying not to deal with this scheiss weather. Cloudy, gray, and coooooold! It's already March 14, and the temperatures are still hovering in the 30s and 40s (Fahrenheit).
Interesting thing I've noticed meanwhile: even on my own laptop, it seems to have realized that we're not in Kansas --er, America-- anymore, and has changed everything to German settings. Like when I type something in my Google search bar, it takes me to google.de, not google.com. Even the advertisements I see on Facebook are in German. One unfortunate consequence of this is that I can no longer watch shows from hulu or any other websites that are only meant to be used by people in the US. So if anyone knows any German equivalent of hulu or whatever, just let me know...
Interesting thing I've noticed meanwhile: even on my own laptop, it seems to have realized that we're not in Kansas --er, America-- anymore, and has changed everything to German settings. Like when I type something in my Google search bar, it takes me to google.de, not google.com. Even the advertisements I see on Facebook are in German. One unfortunate consequence of this is that I can no longer watch shows from hulu or any other websites that are only meant to be used by people in the US. So if anyone knows any German equivalent of hulu or whatever, just let me know...
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Cultural Notes from the End of the Third Day
The following was written on my computer, but not published to my journal immediately because I didn't have internet access in my room until just tonight:
So, I've come up with the idea to start a sort of "travel journal" for my time here in Giessen. I'm starting on my third day, because I was too lazy to start either of my first two days. And what a hectic first two days those were!
If we go back even further, to Monday, we can see that it's just been an all-over stressful week. Monday I got up from a somewhat restless night, took a bath, and made sure I had all my last-minute items together, before heading to the airport. We spent a lot of time at the airport, just hanging around, because it didn't take much time to get checked in. Funny story: when I was checking in, the woman working at the counter asked me if I spoke Polish because she noticed I had a Polish surname. There was a Bosnian girl standing next to me, who had already been checked in, so the woman at the counter asked us if we wanted to sit next to each other, since she figured we might have something in common. After getting checked in, we sat at the food court for a while, got some lunch there. And then I went through security and was just waiting around for a long time. Finally we could start boarding, but even the boarding procedure took a long time. It was a rather large plane, after all.
The flight was also rather restless. I wound up spending most of those eight hours on board by watching various movies (Harry Potter 6), TV shows (Dexter's Lab, The Big Bang Theory, and some interesting taping of a concert/circus performance), and music videos (mostly Bollywood; I flew Air India). I tried to get some sleep, but I would only sleep for half an hour to an hour at most before I would wake up to watch more music videos or listen to music and watch the screen that showed where our plane was located at that moment. On a side note, Air India's food was surprisingly good...except for the little snack they serve. Instead of peanuts, they have some sort of Indian treat: Chana Dal. It's not bad, but I prefer peanuts personally.
But despite these two sleepless nights, I was full of energy when I got to Germany. I had so much energy, in fact, that I had no problem speaking German with everyone I encountered or who encountered me. I don't know...maybe I was so full of energy that I looked like I was more confident than I was, which made me look like a local who knew what they were doing, or something, but I had all kinds of people just coming up, speaking in German. The woman who exchanged my dollars for euros, for instance. Actually, it seemed like she could decide if I was a native or not. After greeting each other, she asked me (in English): do you speak English or German? I answered "beide" (both). She seemed really happy with that answer. Even a guy on the S-bahn asked me for directions. Yeah, the S-bahn. I took the train from Frankfurt to Giessen.
And I was confused about which train to get on. So I asked some guy for help. A black guy, actually. He was nice...almost too nice. Helped me carry my bags on the train...then when we got to the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, where I had to transfer to the Giessen train, he gave me a hug and his phone number...I just chalked it up to cultural differences and was only a little creeped out.
And then just today I met another black German guy...I was walking from the main campus back to my room, and was limping a little because I was wearing my new shoes, which were hurting me a little. I didn't think the limp was too noticeable, since my feet weren't all that sore at that point. But apparently, I was wrong, because he noticed it and actually stopped me to ask if I was "verletzt" (injured). We then had a whole conversation, at the end of which, he too gave me his phone number and his email. I don't know... these black Germans really seem to like me for some reason. Or are they this friendly with everyone? At least this one didn't hug me. %)
The friendliness of black guys in Germany is not the only thing I've come to notice. I've noticed a lot of other things. For instance, how damn small everything is in this country. I mean, I knew before I came that things tend to be smaller in Europe. But you don't really realize the extent of this until you get here.
Then there's the streets, oh the streets. I don't know how it is in other towns, but in Giessen, it seems the city planners couldn't decide which way they wanted the streets to go or even decide on one name for a street. You'll be on a street called one name, and then once you cross an intersection or go around a curve, it's called something totally different. It's almost as bad as Boston. Almost. ;) (And yes, I know they didn't really have city planners in the middle ages, when this city was probably originally built. But you'd think that after the Allies bombed this city flat in WWII they'd be able to rebuild the city in a way that actually made sense... apparently the Germans aren't as efficient or ingenuous as we give them credit for.)
Another thing I've noticed: I don't much like German food. Correction, I don't much like cheap German food. I got some meat and cheese at a store on my first day here. The cheese was ok...the meat made me gag. But I spent a whole two euros on it, so why let it go to waste? =P Next time I want meat, I think I'll spend the extra couple euros for something of a little better quality.
I paid a little more for my bread, but it was worth it. Though I'm not quite sure whether I like the bread yet or not. It's really no wonder the Germans are so hearty when they eat bread like this. Most of us like our bread to be light and fluffy (Except rye bread. Rye bread is not supposed to be light or fluffy. Ever. Sadly, in many places in the US, it is.), but even the thickest bread in the USA couldn't compare with the brick of a bread I bought from that Bäckerei. I swear to God, that thing was as heavy as a brick. No joke. Also, while most Americans will tolerate poppy seeds or sometimes even rye seeds on their bread, this bread was covered inside and out with sunflower seeds. I've never seen or tasted anything like it. But once you get past the tooth-cracking outer crust of this bread, it can actually be tasty. Not something I could eat every day, but certainly better than the cheap meat that wasn't worth the 0.99 € I spent on it.
Another food-related shocker? You can get alcohol even in the small, cheap grocery stores. And I'm not talking about wine and beer. You can find vodka, Jaeger, and other hard liquors in regular grocery stores, and not in any special room off to the side of the store, where the person behind the counter eyes you closely and scrutinizes your ID/asks you 500 questions before they'll let you buy something. And while we're on the topic of drugs, cigarettes are for sale everywhere here too... and you only need to be 16 to buy them. You can even buy them from these special machines that are on practically every street corner.
But even with this seemingly rampant alcoholism and drug use, crime must not be a huge issue, since I haven't noticed any of those blue light emergency telephones you can find on nearly any American college campus. But there are plenty of T-Mobile phone booths. That's right: pay phones still exist in Germany (and they all seem to be owned by T-Mobile). I guess not everyone wants or can afford a "Handy" (cell phone).
Another thing I've noticed is that despite it's relative small size, Giessen seems to have a lot of foreigners, and not just international students either. When I was shopping at the Penny Markt yesterday I heard an older couple speaking English. And today there was a mother and a young son speaking Russian. Who knew Germany could be such a melting pot?
Speaking of languages, it's true that the Germans use a lot of English words in daily life. I can't count the number of times I've seen posters advertising "coffee to go" (and no, this was not in a McDonalds. A lot of the McDonald's menu was translated into German, believe it or not.) or some other business or service or product. I'm somewhat reminded of how random French words seem to appear whenever someone wants to make their product or service look beautiful or classy (I have a shirt that says "Le Jardin" - "The Garden") or how people seem to like getting tattoos of Chinese symbols. Except that I think English in Germany is a lot more prevalent than French or Chinese in the United States.
And still one more thing: graffiti is EVERYWHERE. And no one seems to bother to wash it off. Whereas in some areas of the US (Denison immediately comes to mind, for some reason), any graffiti is immediately washed off as soon as it's discovered, especially if it's on some building like a school. But here, they just don't really seem to care. I'm constantly amazed that the graffiti "Scheiss Deutschland" (shit Germany) has been up since at least before I got here. I'm not sure they'll ever bother washing that off. Apparently, nationalism isn't a big problem here. Then there's the "Bildung ist, was Du draus machst!" (Education is what you make of it!) with a big X through the Euro sign (€) underneath, spray painted on the university library. That's been here since before I got here too, and it doesn't show any signs of going away. Some of the graffiti is rather amusing, using odd grammatical structures or incorrect spellings (one piece of graffiti used the word "peace" when I think they meant to write "piece." I don't remember the whole message, but I think it was something like "peace of nothing"...wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean, no matter whether they meant "peace" or "piece"). But most of the graffiti is so uninspired, and more of an eyesore than art.
Well, if there's one thing we can take away from these experiences, it's that Germans really don't fit even half of the stereotypes we've come up with for them...then again, with all the English being spoken, one must wonder if they really are Germans at all. ;)
Meiner Meinung nach.
This is the bread that will break your teeth.
So, I've come up with the idea to start a sort of "travel journal" for my time here in Giessen. I'm starting on my third day, because I was too lazy to start either of my first two days. And what a hectic first two days those were!
If we go back even further, to Monday, we can see that it's just been an all-over stressful week. Monday I got up from a somewhat restless night, took a bath, and made sure I had all my last-minute items together, before heading to the airport. We spent a lot of time at the airport, just hanging around, because it didn't take much time to get checked in. Funny story: when I was checking in, the woman working at the counter asked me if I spoke Polish because she noticed I had a Polish surname. There was a Bosnian girl standing next to me, who had already been checked in, so the woman at the counter asked us if we wanted to sit next to each other, since she figured we might have something in common. After getting checked in, we sat at the food court for a while, got some lunch there. And then I went through security and was just waiting around for a long time. Finally we could start boarding, but even the boarding procedure took a long time. It was a rather large plane, after all.
The flight was also rather restless. I wound up spending most of those eight hours on board by watching various movies (Harry Potter 6), TV shows (Dexter's Lab, The Big Bang Theory, and some interesting taping of a concert/circus performance), and music videos (mostly Bollywood; I flew Air India). I tried to get some sleep, but I would only sleep for half an hour to an hour at most before I would wake up to watch more music videos or listen to music and watch the screen that showed where our plane was located at that moment. On a side note, Air India's food was surprisingly good...except for the little snack they serve. Instead of peanuts, they have some sort of Indian treat: Chana Dal. It's not bad, but I prefer peanuts personally.
But despite these two sleepless nights, I was full of energy when I got to Germany. I had so much energy, in fact, that I had no problem speaking German with everyone I encountered or who encountered me. I don't know...maybe I was so full of energy that I looked like I was more confident than I was, which made me look like a local who knew what they were doing, or something, but I had all kinds of people just coming up, speaking in German. The woman who exchanged my dollars for euros, for instance. Actually, it seemed like she could decide if I was a native or not. After greeting each other, she asked me (in English): do you speak English or German? I answered "beide" (both). She seemed really happy with that answer. Even a guy on the S-bahn asked me for directions. Yeah, the S-bahn. I took the train from Frankfurt to Giessen.
And I was confused about which train to get on. So I asked some guy for help. A black guy, actually. He was nice...almost too nice. Helped me carry my bags on the train...then when we got to the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, where I had to transfer to the Giessen train, he gave me a hug and his phone number...I just chalked it up to cultural differences and was only a little creeped out.
And then just today I met another black German guy...I was walking from the main campus back to my room, and was limping a little because I was wearing my new shoes, which were hurting me a little. I didn't think the limp was too noticeable, since my feet weren't all that sore at that point. But apparently, I was wrong, because he noticed it and actually stopped me to ask if I was "verletzt" (injured). We then had a whole conversation, at the end of which, he too gave me his phone number and his email. I don't know... these black Germans really seem to like me for some reason. Or are they this friendly with everyone? At least this one didn't hug me. %)
The friendliness of black guys in Germany is not the only thing I've come to notice. I've noticed a lot of other things. For instance, how damn small everything is in this country. I mean, I knew before I came that things tend to be smaller in Europe. But you don't really realize the extent of this until you get here.
Then there's the streets, oh the streets. I don't know how it is in other towns, but in Giessen, it seems the city planners couldn't decide which way they wanted the streets to go or even decide on one name for a street. You'll be on a street called one name, and then once you cross an intersection or go around a curve, it's called something totally different. It's almost as bad as Boston. Almost. ;) (And yes, I know they didn't really have city planners in the middle ages, when this city was probably originally built. But you'd think that after the Allies bombed this city flat in WWII they'd be able to rebuild the city in a way that actually made sense... apparently the Germans aren't as efficient or ingenuous as we give them credit for.)
Another thing I've noticed: I don't much like German food. Correction, I don't much like cheap German food. I got some meat and cheese at a store on my first day here. The cheese was ok...the meat made me gag. But I spent a whole two euros on it, so why let it go to waste? =P Next time I want meat, I think I'll spend the extra couple euros for something of a little better quality.
I paid a little more for my bread, but it was worth it. Though I'm not quite sure whether I like the bread yet or not. It's really no wonder the Germans are so hearty when they eat bread like this. Most of us like our bread to be light and fluffy (Except rye bread. Rye bread is not supposed to be light or fluffy. Ever. Sadly, in many places in the US, it is.), but even the thickest bread in the USA couldn't compare with the brick of a bread I bought from that Bäckerei. I swear to God, that thing was as heavy as a brick. No joke. Also, while most Americans will tolerate poppy seeds or sometimes even rye seeds on their bread, this bread was covered inside and out with sunflower seeds. I've never seen or tasted anything like it. But once you get past the tooth-cracking outer crust of this bread, it can actually be tasty. Not something I could eat every day, but certainly better than the cheap meat that wasn't worth the 0.99 € I spent on it.
Another food-related shocker? You can get alcohol even in the small, cheap grocery stores. And I'm not talking about wine and beer. You can find vodka, Jaeger, and other hard liquors in regular grocery stores, and not in any special room off to the side of the store, where the person behind the counter eyes you closely and scrutinizes your ID/asks you 500 questions before they'll let you buy something. And while we're on the topic of drugs, cigarettes are for sale everywhere here too... and you only need to be 16 to buy them. You can even buy them from these special machines that are on practically every street corner.
But even with this seemingly rampant alcoholism and drug use, crime must not be a huge issue, since I haven't noticed any of those blue light emergency telephones you can find on nearly any American college campus. But there are plenty of T-Mobile phone booths. That's right: pay phones still exist in Germany (and they all seem to be owned by T-Mobile). I guess not everyone wants or can afford a "Handy" (cell phone).
Another thing I've noticed is that despite it's relative small size, Giessen seems to have a lot of foreigners, and not just international students either. When I was shopping at the Penny Markt yesterday I heard an older couple speaking English. And today there was a mother and a young son speaking Russian. Who knew Germany could be such a melting pot?
Speaking of languages, it's true that the Germans use a lot of English words in daily life. I can't count the number of times I've seen posters advertising "coffee to go" (and no, this was not in a McDonalds. A lot of the McDonald's menu was translated into German, believe it or not.) or some other business or service or product. I'm somewhat reminded of how random French words seem to appear whenever someone wants to make their product or service look beautiful or classy (I have a shirt that says "Le Jardin" - "The Garden") or how people seem to like getting tattoos of Chinese symbols. Except that I think English in Germany is a lot more prevalent than French or Chinese in the United States.
And still one more thing: graffiti is EVERYWHERE. And no one seems to bother to wash it off. Whereas in some areas of the US (Denison immediately comes to mind, for some reason), any graffiti is immediately washed off as soon as it's discovered, especially if it's on some building like a school. But here, they just don't really seem to care. I'm constantly amazed that the graffiti "Scheiss Deutschland" (shit Germany) has been up since at least before I got here. I'm not sure they'll ever bother washing that off. Apparently, nationalism isn't a big problem here. Then there's the "Bildung ist, was Du draus machst!" (Education is what you make of it!) with a big X through the Euro sign (€) underneath, spray painted on the university library. That's been here since before I got here too, and it doesn't show any signs of going away. Some of the graffiti is rather amusing, using odd grammatical structures or incorrect spellings (one piece of graffiti used the word "peace" when I think they meant to write "piece." I don't remember the whole message, but I think it was something like "peace of nothing"...wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean, no matter whether they meant "peace" or "piece"). But most of the graffiti is so uninspired, and more of an eyesore than art.
Well, if there's one thing we can take away from these experiences, it's that Germans really don't fit even half of the stereotypes we've come up with for them...then again, with all the English being spoken, one must wonder if they really are Germans at all. ;)
Meiner Meinung nach.
This is the bread that will break your teeth.
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