Extraordinary Day

16. November 2010

Saturday night I stayed up late at Alina and her cousin’s goodbye party. (Alina is the intern at the newspaper who did my interview for the paper…if you want to see the article, let me know and I can send you the link…anyways, we ended up becoming friends after that.). As we made our way groggily out the front door the next morning, we blinked in surprise at the bright, blue sunny sky and fluffy wisps of clouds. It had been rainy for days, but the lack of moisture wasn’t the only difference – it was warm. “What is this? It’s like Spring!” we exclaimed. It was the middle of November, and we were astonished.

The day was so nice that I couldn’t not be outside, so I went out on my bike. (I know, it’s surprising.) The Elbe was calm and deep as I pedaled across the bridge and coasted down the ramp onto the path on the flood plain. Soft gusts of wind purred across the path and filled the sails of several kites floating overhead. “What a day!” I thought vaguely as I let my mind wander and my feet spin. Legs burning, I raced across the level plain and felt as thought I might take off at any moment. Entering the forest, I paused for half a second before pedaling pell-mell down a dappled path to my right, wet leaves making an odd swish-squishing under my whirring wheels. Navigation was slightly trickier through the mud and puddles, which still lingered on the leaf-strewn paths, but I relished the slight thrill of not knowing quite where my wheels would land. After a final hill, I coasted down towards the bridge that marked the opening of the Luisium. Even at 3:30 P.M., the sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky, so I just took a leisurely tour of the bike paths around the square-looking castle, leaf-bare trees and the lake – now barely recognizable, so covered over was it with the debris of autumn.

As I made my way back, I was consumed by my own pensive thoughts and veered left towards home at the fork in the path. As I continued, the leaves covering the ground got stickier with mud, and finally I had to stop altogether when my front wheel lodged itself in a sinkhole. Only then, with a panicky flutter in the pit of my stomach, did I realize I didn’t recognize the path. It was getting dusky and I didn’t want to be caught in the forest after dark. Wild pigs are native to the area, and it’s also full of hunting stands, not to mention the pitch black that would surely descend here far from the glow of street lights. I turned back towards the main path and was plagued by nightmarish images of all the things that could happen to me in the forest after dark. At the crossroads once again, I paused for a moment and had the epiphany that maybe I’d turned too early, that I actually needed to go further away from the main road to connect with the path that would lead me back to it. This did indeed turn out to be true and my bike burst from the forest into the open meadow. The church tower of Roßlau appearing in the distance restored my previous feeling of euphoria, and my intense relief at being found again fueled my furious pedaling towards home.

Deine,
N*

London Lights

8. November 2010

Our tour guide told us that 11-16 million people are in London on any given day. I never thought that such a big and bustling city could still have a certain charm, or that I would like it so well. After a 14-hour bus ride complete with a ferry trip from Calais to Dover, we arrived in London. I was still really tired, but 48 hours is not such a long time, and there was no way I was wasting more time sleeping than I had to.

The group set right out to sightsee, and I can’t believe how much we did manage in the time we were there: Trafalgar Square, Westminster/the changing of the guard, St. Paul’s, the Globe Theatre… One of our events was a presentation in the Globe, and it was all about what plays and attending a play was like in Shakespeare’s time. Id’ studied a lot of it in my English classses before, but the actor who led our presentation was super cynical, and it was interesting to watching how the students reacted to the information and his attitude.

I also visited three museums: The British Tate, The Tate Modern and the National Gallery. Many of the museums in London are free, which was really convenient because it allowed me to at least take a look inside, even if I didn’t have a lot of time. The British Tate has a lot of Turner and Pre-Raphaelite art, which I enjoy, but they’re currently redoing some of their exhibits, so some of the works I most wanted to see weren’t on display. (Excuse to go back?)

At the Tate Modern there was a piece, “The Unilever Series” by Ai Weiwei, in the large exhibition hall made up entirely of millions of hand-painted porcelain sunflower seeds. When it first opened, you were allowed to walk on/play in the seeds, but they stopped letting people because too much porcelain dust was getting tracked around the museum. It’s really a shame that you can’t do it anymore because I think the interactive nature of the exhibit and being able to turn the visible enormity of the work into a more tangible (literally) enormity would add an element of relatable empathy to the artists’ meaning for the piece. The main exhibition at the Tate Modern was also grand. I love the movement of Braque and Picasso’s works as they pushed artistic boundaries towards abstraction. There is something so poetic and oddly musical about the way some pieces of the subject are visibly discernible and how the subjects of the painting, when juxtaposed, create a visually stimulating, unsolvable, yet somehow coherent puzzle. And I saw works by Rineke Dijkstra live. I find that her photos really capture the subjects’ essences. They are stripped bare (sometimes literally), raw and in your face. I like art that brings true emotion (the way I see it anyways) right up to the surface, so that it’s undeniable and unavoidable. In short: Tate Modern is definitely worth a visit.

My favorite place, possibly of the whole trip, was the National Gallery. It’s ginormous, and there is some well-known work of art hanging almost everywhere you look. As I entered the gallery through the high-arching doorway, my pulse began to race, and I felt vaguely dizzy. So much art…so little time. I think I wandered around with my eyes glazed over in a state of catatonic art shock for about five minutes before I was able to pull myself together. I managed to view most of the art from the 1800s as well as the Impressionist collection. I also made a brief foray into the medieval art to view the “Arnolfini Wedding Portrait”! I hate “fame jumping” in galleries, but sometimes it can’t be helped.

Very impressive. Seeing all these works that I’ve studied over the past four years lends a whole new dimension to the lectures I’ve attended. Sure I’ve seen the slides, but there’s just no way to emulate the barely-visible, yet illuminating brush-stroked details and their heart-stopping delicacy, which unite themselves into a coherent, monumental piece of work. Mmmm, it makes me a little giddy just thinking about it. Someday I hope I will be able to help others see art in a way that moves them this tremendously.

I also met with two long-time friends – one from high school, who I’ve known forever, and one from Britain, who was one of my closest friends in middle school. We always said we’d see each other when I came to England one day, but I never thought it might actually happen. Both nights involved good food (I have yet to be disappointed by a restaurant in Europe), great company and strolling past the fantastic London lights. So far European cities are taking the cake for nighttime brilliance.

Sunday morning I suggested an early-morning walk in Hyde Park before we had to board the bus to head back to Germany. Since I was going out at 6 A.M., I was surprised when not only the teacher I was with joined me, but also two of the students on the trip. It was dark when we set out, and seeing the sky lighten as we strolled through the park was sublime. It was slightly nippy – you know, that funny not-quite-cold temperature, where your breath nearly freezes in the air before you? – but perfect. To top the morning off, I spent the whole ferry ride, rain and all, watching the white cliffs of Dover evaporate into the mist and the green countryside of Calais emerge across the channel. One of the students, Mark, also braved the rain outside with me, and we agreed it was the perfect ending to the England portion of our trip

The bus ride to Bremen took all day, but it felt faster. I finally finished Les Miserables, and I made significant progress on my knitting project. The students spent a lot of the trip playing add-a-line story games together. They all came from different cities in the state of Saxony-Anhalt, and seeing how well they got on and laughed together made me smile. It’s really heartening to see that even in our technologically driven age, some young people are still able to use simply things like words, laughter and good company to pass the time.

We arrived in Bremen too late that night to see anything, but four of us – Mark, Lexi, Jean and I – agreed to stay a little longer the next morning. Mark had visited Bremen before, so he showed us some of the Old Town and Downtown areas. The central part of the city is very historic; it’s nice to look at, and I’m certain I’d like to learn something else about the town besides the Bremen Town Musicians connection. We did see the Bremen stacked animal statue, though.

The train ride home was rather eventful. Jean and I got to hang out with Mark and Lexi longer than we expected. The four of us took the same train. Mark and Lexi were supposed to switch trains in Hannover, while Jean and I were to ride the whole way to Magdeburg, where she lives, and I would switch trains. We said goodbye to Mark and Lexi in Hannover, but ten minutes later, we were greeted by peals of laughter. They had failed to notice that the train they needed to take from Hannover was the one we were already on. Just wait, it gets better. By the time we got to their real stop, the train was running about ten minutes late. Mark and Lexi took their sweet time getting off the train, which shouldn’t have been a problem because we were scheduled to stop for several minutes. Well, because of the delay, the train didn’t stop for as long as it should’ve and Mark and Lexi were stuck on the train! Secretly, this is something I’ve always worried about having happen to me, so I was sympathetic, but it was also kind of funny (sorry, Mark!) The whole train car knew this was the second time they’d come back, too. Oops. Now watch something like that happen to me next time now. I’ve probably gone and jinxed myself.

Our little group REALLY said goodbye in Magdeburg, which was sad because the trip was so unreal that actually realizing I was headed home was a harsh jolt back to reality. We want to meet again, though, so hopefully this won’t be the last time I’ll relate you stores about the adventures of the fantastic four. I’m sure they’ll be interesting.

Deine,
N*

P.S.  Remember me telling you about "Janchen"?...He was on this trip too...that story still makes me laugh.

Prague Reflections

Sorry for the lag-time on this last Prague post...I know it was a while ago, but I still want to put it up.  Also, London is coming soon!

20. Oktober 2010

Just some things I thought about or found interesting on my trip:

1. I loved Prague. It’s a beautiful city – so full of culture and character – and the history, good, bad, beautiful and devastatingly moving lurks everywhere, just waiting to be remembered. What a place it is that can hold it all with such grace. I hope to go back someday! Being ¼ Czech myself, I’d like to have a greater knowledge of the language and history before I go, and I’d also like to venture away from the capital to see another side of the country.

2. Here are some things that made me react emotionally on my trip: Jewish History and Holocaust remembrances, beggars kneeling on the streets at night with their foreheads to the ground, their hats outstretched for almost before them, street musicians who play brilliantly, but can barely eke out a living, the willingness of so many Czech people to help me however they could in whatever language they could (even their language, when I couldn’t understand), even though I can barely speak five words in their language, the history – it’s everywhere and from every time period – and to me, the care and preservation of so much in spite of all that’s happened there gives me hope for the future. I’ve never seen a city that is so alive – not just the people’s visages, but the face of the city itself is alive with the past, present and future all at once.

3. Traveling alone suits me. I was apprehensive about it, but I shouldn’t have been. It’s freeing to not answer to anyone and experience a new place completely on your own terms. I never once was bored or lonely. Occasionally I was anxious, but that’s not so unusual for me. It was nice to have the company I had, and I’ll always be glad for a travel buddy, but now I’ll feel good should I decide to be independent. I think everyone should try taking a solo vacation once. If you haven’t…do it!

4. Having a student ID is awesome; it saved me so much money. Also, I found out I don’t like having to stop for lunch. It takes too long when I could be seeing things, and it’s too expensive. I took a bunch of fruit with me from home, and I will also bring small snacks with me next time. I honestly wasn’t that hungry because I’d eat a big breakfast at the hotel and by dinner when I was hungry, I’d really enjoy the meal. Win.

5. Prague “things”: colorful patterned scarves imported from Cashmere, Matryoschka dolls hand-painted in the area, ornately patterned, hand-decorated eggshell ornaments, hand-made marionettes, hand-made jewelry made by street vendors on the Charles Bridge, Czech glass and glassware items, hand-carved toys and Christmas ornaments.

6. The Metro: easy to use, fast and awesome. I’ll miss that.

7. It’s hard to get veggie food in Czech restaurants. Many have fixed menus and substitutions aren’t smiled upon. The Czech cuisine in general is meat-based, so it’s not easy. I’d really have liked to try some dumplings, but it really wasn’t feasible. Luckily for me, I can also get something similar in Germany, so I’ll have plenty of other opportunities. The food I did eat was all excellent. If you go to Prague, go to the Lesser Town area by crossing the Charles Bridge, go up Bridge Street turn right as if you were going to go to Prague Castle, and then turn left up Neruda Way. About halfway up the street, you’ll find a sign on the right side “All you can eat vegetarian food”. The restaurant is through the art gallery, across the courtyard and down the steps in the cellar. If you enjoy ethnic food, I promise you won’t be disappointed! The owner and atmosphere are authentic and you can’t beat the price!

8. Pick pockets were a large concern of mine…I wore a waist-belt for my money and passport. It worked great, and I never had to worry!

9. Prague is beautiful at night. Even though I was nervous about being out alone at night, there were tons of people around, and I felt relatively safe. (Minus the gypsy episode!) The lights on the castle, water, bridges and theatres are dazzling, and I wouldn’t have missed my night strolls for the world.

Hope you enjoyed my Prague saga! Get ready for London in two weeks!

Deine,
N*

Nashledanou Praha

20. Oktober 2010

My train didn’t leave until 12:30 today so I decided to stow my bags at the train station and visit the library at the Strahov Cloister. I found my way easily and even used the streetcar for the first time, but my happy mood was punctuated by the cashier who failed to give me the 50 crowns change back after I bought my ticket. I didn’t realize it right away and about 30 seconds later (literally) when I asked her about it, she insisted she had given me my change and tried to tell me that the 50 crown bill already in my wallet was it…even though a second before she said she gave me a coin. Hmmmm… I’m one hundred percent sure that I didn’t get my change because last night I counted my money and calculated everything for today down to the last penny. I don’t know what made me the angriest: the loss of the 50 crowns (about 2 Euros), which I was going to use and was the last of my Czech money, the fact that she couldn’t admit she was wrong, or the way she looked at me like I was some kind of criminal. It was humiliating. I was on the verge of tears for the next half hour because I was so frustrated. Oh well. Worse things happen in life.

The Cloister’s library was magnificent, though. Unfortunately the Philosophical Hall was being renovated, so the books were all covered by sheets of plastic, but you could still see the majestic frescoes on the vaulted ceilings. The books made a ring about the room, often stacked two deep on the shelves, and the second story aisleway left both floors open to the heavenly ceiling. What a place to philosophize! I wonder if rooms like that affected the people who used them every day as dramatically as they do me now. I like to think so. The other room was the Theological Hall, where there were over 18,000 leather-bound tomes in Latin and German. There is also a copy of the oldest book in the collection – a highly decorated Evangelical Bible from the 9th century, which is too delicate to be kept on display. The room also features a reading wheel used by translators so they could have several versions of the Bible, for example, open for consultation at the same time. Then all the translator would have to do was turn the wheel to bring another book to the front. Super cool! I can think of some times when that would’ve been mighty convenient for writing papers. There were also lots globes, one of which does not show Australia because it wasn’t discovered yet. Imagine that!

Before heading back to the train station, I took a final stroll over the Charles Bridge to bid the city farewell. I couldn’t have asked for better weather; it was nippy (40s), but I had mostly blue skies and only a smattering of rain on the trip. Nashledanou Praha, hope to see you again!

Deine,
N*

In Good Company

20. Oktober 2010

Yesterday morning I met up with my good friend from high school, the Violin Man, in Old Town Square. We may not have too many opportunities to see each other again in the next few years, so it was really perfect how my Fall Vacation lined up with when he’d be in Prague. We decided to visit Vyšehrad Castle as some of the Violin Man’s classmates had said it was nice, and a couple of them were also planning to visit that day. Sure enough, when we got there, Logan and Chris were sitting up on a bench on the hill with all of their stuff, just chilling. They looked like they were waiting for a bus or something. The Violin Man introduced me to them and we all proceeded to make a rather haphazard tour of the grounds. We sought out Dvorak’s grave, peeped into the doors of the still-closed cathedral and enjoyed the vistas from various points throughout the grounds, including a few we found by accident when we were trying to find our way out.

After that The Violin Man and I went to the National Gallery in the Messepalast to view the 19th and 20th century art collection. We were there for about five hours straight and managed most of the museum in our marathon stretch. I could’ve lingered much longer in many places had there been time, but I got to see the French and International exhibits as well as lots of Czech Art, which I rather liked, so I really can’t complain. I’ll definitely be reading up on Kupka, Mucha and others in the near future. If you’re a Modern Art enthusiast, don’t overlook the Czechs! They’re worth more than a second look.

We were pretty hungry (read: ravenous) when the museum closed at six. It’s probably a good thing it closed then because otherwise I don’t think the Violin Man or I would’ve had the will to leave the art, no matter how famished we were. Earlier we had agreed to go my veggie restaurant and had mentioned to Chris where it was. After our chance meeting that morning, I wasn’t surprised when the Violin Man and I saw him standing outside the restaurant as we rounded the corner. Once again both the food and the company were excellent; Chris even wanted to go back the next day. It was nice to be able to show people an awesome place in a town where I don’t live and get commended for it – especially since the restaurant was vegetarian.

After dinner I was telling the Violin Man and Chris about my Pied Piper experience. They told me that apparently Prague has a gypsy problem, and they were convinced that I’d nearly been taken by gypsies. They thought it was a great story, and now that I’m not totally freaked out, I think so too. Finding the gypsies was kind of a running joke as we strolled through the streets. Chris took the Violin Man and I to the Lennon Wall, where people continuously paint/write quotes from and homages to John Lennon, and then to the lock gate, where people lock locks to the wrought iron bars – there are literally thousands of them. Then the Violin Man wanted to show me the “peeing statues” “if I was into it.” I’m not really sure “into it’ is really the right phrase, but I’m not going to turn down a piece of culture, no matter how strange, without a pretty good reason. Up the street from there a little ways, we found a book shop and perused the selection for about an hour. I could’ve bought several books (most of them about the Czech Republic), so I wrote down their titles for later. The book I started reading was a wrenching biography called Under a Cruel Star by Heda M. Kovály and was a Jewish woman’s story of her experiences in the Holocaust and later in Soviet-occupied Prague. It is definitely worth seeking out and finishing. The guys walked me to the metro station afterwards since it was getting late. It was nice to spend a day with travel buddies, and I just want to thank them for letting me be a part of yet another pleasant day in Prague!

Deine,
N*

Monumental

19. Oktober 2010

Since most museums are closed on Mondays, I thought that it would be a good day to visit the Jewish Quarter of Prague. The Jewish Museum there is organized into a tour of several synagogues, which house displays about Jewish culture and Czech Jewish history, and a path winding through the old Jewish cemetery. The Jewish cemetery alone is quite impressive with 12,000 headstones and many more graves which are unaccounted for. It was used from the 15th to the 18th century and since the cemetery couldn’t get any bigger, they just kept adding new layers of dirt and graves on top of the old ones, causing the headstones to keep being pushed upwards, creating the picturesque wall-to-wall headstones leaning every which way onto each other that you see today.

In the Pinkas synagogue you can see more than 77,000 names written on the walls. These are the known names of all the Jews just from Prague and the surrounding areas who were murdered in the Holocaust. The impact that had on me was monumental; when you hear “77,000,” you realize it’s a large number, but you have no real way of quantifying it. Seeing those names of real men, women and children, of families, there gave me a lurching feeling in my stomach. I just can’t fathom housing so much hatred for other people within me.

The historical and cultural information in the other synagogues was interesting, and it was interspersed with intricately designed artifacts. Jewish people have such rich culture and traditions, and I enjoyed learning about them. I had no idea how many the implements are associated with displaying the Torah properly, not to mention the various special dress customs and traditional food. I also never realized the full extent of continual Jewish persecutions throughout history. It leaves me with an indescribable ache to know that there has been so much intolerance.

The synagogues were all beautifully decorated, but the Spanish Synagogue with its intricate wall-to-wall decorations and motifs is certainly a standout. The decoration was dark green and red with gold interspersed, so the contrast between light and dark was quite striking. I would highly recommend the museum trip because besides being a place of beauty, history and emotion, I think that a trip to Prague without visiting the Jewish Museum would be a trip that would be missing a piece essential to understanding the city itself.

After I finished at the museum, I meandered through the streets and needed up at Old Town Square. I saw yet another National Museum building (they are all over, and I wish desperately to visit all of them!), the church near the square and the city hall with the Astronomical clock. At the top of every hour, the clock comes to life. The figures on the outside move and the windows open and other figures rotate behind them. I’ve always been a fan of clocks with moving parts, so I thought it was neat. I wandered around the streets some more and had a Döner with cheese of course and some ice cream before catching the metro home for the evening.

Deine,
N*

Castles and Cameras and Hippies, Oh My!

18. Oktober 2010

 



St. Vitus Cathedral - front view





Sunday was a supremely enjoyable day spent at Prague Castle and Lesser Town. I regret to inform you that the only thing marring an otherwise perfect day was the death of my camera. It met a sudden, stony death on the stairs of the St. Vitus Cathedral. Maybe it can be fixed, but I’m doubtful. Buying a new camera in Germany was obviously not in the agenda, but I can’t live in Europe without a camera, now can I? I’ll see what I can do when I get back, but for now I’m doing without since disposable cameras here cost 12 euros…highway robbery. Not happening. Especially not when I’m surrounded by handmade Czech heaven wherever I look; I’d prefer to support the arts if I’m going to indulge in consumerism. Now on to more important things…





Prague Castle and Charles Bridge

 

As mentioned, I decided to visit Prague Castle. I opted for the long tour ticket so the art galleries were included. There was so much to see and read that it was quite overwhelming after a while, but well worth it. In Prague Castle itself, I enjoyed learning about the history of the place, especially about the way records were kept and how central heating was achieved for royalty. The castle experienced many changes along its history, which made the artifacts many and varied. St. George’s Basilica’s austere architecture coupled with well-placed artworks made it a good representative of its time period. Next came two galleries, each housing 19th and 17th c. artworks respectively. I saw my first live Titian in the second – a copy of which actually resided over my desk at school for several years – as well as works by Cranach, Manés and many Czech artists of whom I’d never heard, but whose works I found sweetly moving. If there’s one thing I’d like to



St. Vitus Cathedral - back view

have more time for on this trip, it is art galleries. Then I climbed the tower of the St. Vitus Cathedral (almost 300 steps), saw the complete panorama of the city before me and took many photos prior to my camera’s untimely death shortly thereafter. When I walked into the cathedral itself, what I saw left me breathless. The most exquisitely rendered stained-glass windows line the walls. The colors are so vibrant you can hear them. Looking at the church’s majesty from without, you would never imagine the veritable rainbow of pictures and patters that dazzle your eyes and imagination as you saunter along the perimeter. My penultimate stop was the Rosenberger palace. The set-up of how the rooms used to look was interesting, and it was amusing to imagine a friend of mine’s ancestors living there because he has the same last name. One of the portraits did bear a resemblance, haha, maybe he really is related to these Rosenbergers.

 

 

View down the hill from the castle



The palace tour took me all day and I neglected to eat lunch, so I walked through the Lesser Town Circle in search of victuals. I am a vegetarian, which is a bit of a shame while in the Czech Republic because eating a traditional meal is almost entirely out of the question for me. I’ll admit I was stressing a little about what to eat when the answer appeared around the corner as if by magic: All You Can Eat Vegetarian Restaurant, 150 crowns (About 6 Euros). Score. I walked down the stairs into the cellar restaurant and poked my head nervously around the doorframe. The restaurant owner, a man with long dreads and a young hippy-looking couple were the only ones occupying the small space below me.

“You hungry? Good. I make you the menu,” grinned the restaurant owner as he went over to the country to fill me a plate. In the meantime, the man with the dreads started an intent conversation with me. It turned out he was also from the U.S., but had been living in the Czech Republic for the last ten years. He’s a German lit. loving poet, who honestly stated that the skill to work at a language with enough ardor to speak it fluently is not a gift that everyone has. He said he “barely spoke Czech,” but that he loves the culture, and the people love him for trying. He also gave me the website of a woman who does a technique called touch drawing when he heard that I’m interested in using creative channels to get students interested in learning about Art History. He was quite the philosophical thinker, so I was sorry when he had to leave. It was only when he offered me his left hand to shake and introduced himself to me as Etienne that I noticed his right hand was missing. Etienne gave me his number in case I needed to find another veggie restaurant or wanted to get tea with him and told me where I could read his work. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more brazenly direct person in my life, and after two days alone, such an intellectual and earnest conversation was more than welcome.


 

View of Prague from St. Vitus Cathedral

 After that, it was just me and the owner in the restaurant. I ate delicious food – spinach and potato soup, cooked veggies in a tomato cream-based sauce with rice, a salad with corn kidney beans and olives, spicy apple chutney and yogurt sauce with cinnamony dough balls all accompanied by a cool apple tea. All the while the owner would smile at me and say “Yummy, yummy” or “It’s very tasty.” He also asked me if I’d met any Hare Krishna in Colorado. I had seconds of everything and when I told him it was one of the best meals I’d ever had, he just said, “I know.” So modest. After I finished, I went to pay and he cracked some jokes and then said, “Give me something.” I paid and gave him a tip. Then he gave me a “crunchy snack.” He said this while making chewing motions. I was really sorry to leave.

For the rest of the evening, I strolled through the Lesser Town area and explored the shops there before walking across the Charles Bridge and catching the metro home. The Prague lights make the cityscape into fairyland.

Deine,
N*

The Pied Piper of Prague

17. Oktober 2010

I started my first trip to a foreign country other than Germany with a half an hour of sleep and an hour-earlier-than-anticipated start. Being the brilliant individual that I am, I booked my train ticket from Dessau instead of Roßlau. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but until yesterday (of course, the last day), the bridge between the two parts of the city has been under construction, so you have to take a bus. Naturally, that bus runs less often on Saturdays, resulting in said unforeseen early departure. It’s 4:15 A.M.; do you know where your passport is?


  

Landscape from the train



The train ride was uneventful. I slept most of the way, even though I tried desperately to keep opening my eyes because the countryside between Dresden and Prague is heartrendingly picturesque. The only other thing of note during the trip there was that I couldn’t sit in MY reserved seat because a Czech man, who looked like Severus Snape from Harry Potter, kept waving his arms at me, said who knows what in Czech and absolutely refused to move even when I showed him the ticket. In the end I gave up because there were other seats, and frankly I was just too tired to put up a fight. I seem to have really bad luck with reserved seats. I’m strongly considering not getting them anymore, no matter how much the Germans swear by it.

When I arrived in Prague, I got cash, bought train tickets and found the metro with relative ease. Finding the hotel was a different story. My instructions were to exit the metro station, turn right and go up the hill. Well, it sounds simply enough, but it turns out that depending upon which way you exit the metro station, there are about three ways that could be correct. Guess who chose the wrong two first? After the second attempt, I tried asking for directions from a cute, little old lady. Unfortunately she only spoke Czech and also had no idea where the hotel was. She kept trying to tell me things in Czech and looked at me questioningly to see if somehow I understood. I didn’t. Finally she hailed a little old Czech man over. He also didn’t speak English, but once he had donned his glasses, it turned out he did know where the hotel was. He started trying to explain it to me slowly in Czech, but thankfully right at that moment, two middle-aged ladies, who spoke English AND knew where the hotel was walked by and took over. Once I found out where to go, I also found out that there isn’t really a great way to get there by foot. There are many paths, but none of them are direct, and several are dirt trails through a wooded area – pretty, but inconvenient when you’re carrying your luggage.


View of Charles Bridge and castle

After checking into the hotel, I went into the city to explore. As easy as I find the metro to navigate is how difficult I find the street directions here. I have a poor internal compass without mountains as a reference point, and in a city with winding ways like Prague, well, I spent a lot of time finding out exactly where I'd gotten myself. Oy with the poodles already! I managed to find myself from the Wenceslas Square (too many people and touristy/mall shops!) to the Charles Bridge. Wow. Prague is known for its bridges for a reason. The view over to Lesser Town and Prague Castle accentuated by the river and bridge is unforgettably classic. I strolled over the Charles Bridge and “window shopped” by the open air vendors selling handmade jewelry and artwork. I will certainly be doing some shopping there before I leave. As I finished crossing the bridge, it started to drizzle, so I opted to head to the museum I particularly wanted to visit.



National Gallery



By the time I reached the National Gallery in the Messe Palace – the location where 19th and 20th century

art is housed – there wasn’t a ton of time before closing (I got lost), but there was enough time for the “Monet to Warhol” exhibit visiting from the Albertina Museum in Austria. Fine by me. I thoroughly enjoyed the exhibit and then stopped by an Italin restaurant for pizza on my way back. I had the waiter teach me to order in Czech, but I forgot by the time I got home...I wanted to write it down too - oops.



Charles Bridge and castle by night

 Cue, the night gets a little more interesting. The Germans have continually reassured me that it’s safe to walk around at night ever since I’ve gotten to Europe, so I decided to take the metro to the Charles Bridge to view the magnificence of the night lights. All was well until I was about three fourths of the way across the bridge, when a girl about my age with a guitar on her back started talking to me in Czech. When I was unresponsive, she asked me if I spoke English. My first mistake was acknowledging that I did and my second was probably letting her keep talking at all. She wanted me to come to the end of the bridge with her for something that she wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me and gave me this green branch that had been in the flowers she’d sold. She was with a boy who’d also been playing guitar a few minutes before, and she said they were living on the streets, but doing this was better than doing something else. Whether by design or because she just couldn’t say what she wanted to in English, the whole conversation was very convoluted. Needless to say, I didn’t feel good about it. Why was she so insistent and why me in particular? Her ambiguity and the boy’s music all had a Pied Piper type feel, so I pretended to follow them and then I turned around and left the green branch on the bridge in case it was some sort of a gang sign (…yes, that’s where my mind went). Maybe her intentions were honest, and if they were I’m truly sorry for doubting her, but I can’t exactly afford blind trust alone in a country where I don’t speak the language. Honestly the whole thing creeped me out…there was just something “off” about it. In self-defense I learned that if your gut senses that, it’s usually right, so I went back to the hotel as quickly and unobtrusively as I could. I was worried about being followed then, so unfortunately my otherwise great day ended with a bit of a negative spin.

Deine,
N*

A Piece of Paradise

I’ve been meaning to write about my apartment for a while now, but I was holding off until I got the appropriate photographic documentation. Now that I have it, here goes:

I LOVE my apartment. I got so lucky; it’s both super-nice and super-affordable. I live on the second floor (American third floor) in the rental apartment above one of the teachers at my school’s houses. Her daughter lived here at one point, and as H says, “Stine ist zu gut für diese Welt” (“Stine is too good for this world.”), so it’s absolutely gorgeous. The main room is large and has a kitchen area with a long table that can seat eight, a living room area complete with couch, coffee table, two chairs and a TV, and a little working niche under the eaves where my desk is. Since I’m on the top floor, all of my ceilings slope inwards, and some of the dark wood structure is visible, which I love. I spend most of my time in this room because the light and the view are so lovely. The front window looks out on a small park in front of a church (bells!), red roofs, the grocery store where I often shop, and another church steeple, visible in the distance. The view out the back is my favorite, though…the houses on my block surround its outer edge, and the middle is reserved for people’s gardens. The hodgepodge of trees, bushes and flowers surrounded by quaint, red roofs is my permanent mental picture of “real” town Germany. In the evening as I sit and watch the sun set over it all through nearly my whole western wall, I feel like I’ve found a piece of paradise. As if that all wasn’t enough, I also have a HUGE bathroom with a shower and a bathtub, as well as a nice-sized bedroom with a full bed and a nice view. Like I said…I’m really very lucky, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better. The one humorous thing is the indoor stairway…not the stairway itself, but the five, yes five, nude torsos sculpted from bronze. They’re very well-made, but I’m just used to seeing something like that only in a museum. As an Art History major, it really didn’t faze me after the initial surprise, and the Germans don’t even blink twice. Nudity is much more accepted in this society, I guess. Anyways, enjoy the pics!

Deine,

N*

What's Your Problem?

In the two months my 5th graders have been in English class, they have learned the phrase, “What’s your problem?” It’s adorable the way they read this in dialogues in our English lessons. They always sound slightly serious when they speak because they are thinking so hard about speaking correctly. I am of the opinion that a serious question needs a serious answer, and as the student teacher is teaching the class at the moment, I find myself dreaming up answers. Right now I am feeling content, so “problem” is really a relative term…but if I had to answer the question…

My problem is yarn. Wonderful, soft, nice German yarn that seems to flaunt itself prominently wherever I go. Grocery store, department store, clothing store, dollar store, drug store, you name it, it’s there! I’ve not been in an actual yarn shop since I’ve been here, but it might be dangerous considering how much yarn I’ve accrued over the last four weeks. Granted, it’s all be ridiculously well-priced (I <3 sparangebote! (Special sale deals)), and a lot of it’s for gifts, but still. Many days you might as well call my bike the yarn taxi, since yarn is one of the few consumer items that can lure me to make a special bike trip to Dessau (one hour round trip) to buy it.

At the risk of painting myself as a bad knitter, I’ll admit that I never really got why people have yarn stashes before. Somehow I retained a strange yarn-rationale that I should only buy yarn when I needed it until now. That rule’s been officially busted, and I am now on a self-imposed yarn diet. Thankfully I can binge-knit at will since I have enough projects planned. Here’s what’s on the agenda:

1. Kitten mittens (Mietze Katze Handschuhe).

2. Many normal Handschuhe (Don’t you love German imagery...hand shoes. Why isn’t it hand socks?!).

3. Knitted cardigan (Strickjacke) with the sparangebot yarn from the Aldi (grocery store chain).

4. Super cute pullover sweater made with the 20 minute alpaca yarn. (Seriously, I made a second trip in three days to go back and get this yarn. I just know it’s going to knit up awesomely!)

Super! And now I think I’ll end this post before I wax poetic about alpaca yarn, or something equally embarrassing.

Deine,

N*

P.S. Please enable me with awesome knit ideas!

The Bicycle Love-Hate Binary

Ever since I learned to ride a bike, I’ve had a bizarre relationship with the activity. I learned how to ride a two-wheeler when I was five or six, and I loved riding fast...all speed, little good judgment otherwise. Most of the time things would start out fine, but by the end of almost every ride, I’d fallen off at least once. Considering how well-honed my sense of balance is in just about every other athletic activity I do, this bike-tipping propensity doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

Sensible or not, I have diligently avoided bike riding whenever possible ever since a certain *ahem* incident in 4th grade. Yes, I do own a bike, but it’s probably been about four years since the last time I even took it around the block. I knew that coming to Germany probably meant embracing the bicycle, but believe me, it wasn’t a prospect I relished.

Sure enough two weeks after I got here, I “wanted” to ride my bike. I’ll do a lot for independent transportation, and I have to say that it’s nice to be able to go into Dessau when I want to without depending on someone else or having to pay for the bus. H, J and I practiced bike-riding, and honestly, it’s not the actual riding that is the problem, rather starting and stopping because my bike is a little too tall for me. I’ve finally managed bike riding with some grace, even if I spent the first couple of weeks looking fairly (read: completely) ridiculous because I’d hop off my bike at almost every stop light and walk with it across the road before awkwardly wavering back and forth when I’d try to start back up.

Thankfully I usually get a ride to school and only have to bike to the city when I want to because my one bike ride to school this year (early on in the bike-riding saga) was a complete disaster. How bad can it really have been?...monumentally bad. It commenced with me getting the heel of my shoe stuck in the pedal, so that the ride ended abruptly with me awkwardly hopping off on one foot before I even really got a chance to get started! “Ok, nobody saw that,” I thought to myself and tried again. After that the ride was fine again...up until when I got to the city. My bag somehow lodged itself in my wheel, and once I dislodged it, my bike began screeching. Not just a little squeak. I mean loud, obnoxious, fingernails-on-chalkboard screeching. Of course it was right then that I ran into one of my students. Embarrassing. I half-rode, half-walked the rest of the way to school and arrived there soaked in sweat (I had to leave my sweater on in class, that’s how bad it was) and about fifteen minutes later than I intended. Lucky for me, H always plans for us to be there early. I explained to her that my bike was making an odd noise, but I couldn’t bring myself to own up to the real reason why. Hadn’t I already lost enough of my dignity between 6:30 and 7:30 A.M.? Luckily J fixed my bike with little hassle, and I’m happy to report that the return trip was mercifully uneventful. Since then, my skills have improved immensely. If I can just learn to keep myself up by holding onto the walk-signal boxes at the intersections, I just might pass for a German.

Although I can honestly say that I’ve felt the most culture frustration in the last four weeks while I was on a bicycle (anything else that’s ruffled my feathers seems to be intensified by my bike “hate”), I can also say that during my last few bike trips, I’ve experienced some of my greatest elation. There’s nothing quite like pedaling up the hill to the bridge and seeing the church towers of Roßlau across the Elbe river, and feeling astounded and warmed by the idea that this is the place I’m calling home. At these times, my capacity for love overcomes my bike “hate”, and I pedal furiously forward with a kind of reckless abandon. The situation becomes a metaphor for the way in which I can start to see the good in many foreign experiences that I found disarming at first, as well as a clue to why I’ve always been prone to falling off my bike.

Deine,
N*

Question Machine

I’m usually not the kind of person who asks a lot of questions. Sometimes I can’t think of any, or I figure I can just work through whatever it is myself, but living in a foreign country has completely changed the game; I’ve never had so many questions in my life.

Take grocery shopping, for example. Sounds quite mundane, right? But there are so many things we take for granted when we grow up somewhere. At first just walking into a grocery store was intimidating. Here is a snippet of my internal running dialogue: Is there special grocery store etiquette that I’m not privy to? Where are the carts? Oh no! Do I have a euro so I can get a cart? (Thankfully at the stores I frequent most often, you can just take a cart; once I even saw a man take his cart across the street to his house, unload his groceries and bring it back!) Does this store want you to pre-weigh and price your produce before checking out? (This is actually really neat...at the bigger stores, you put your produce on a scale and select the item type, and the scale prints out a price sticker for the item right then. I like knowing right away what something will cost me, especially since everything is in kilograms!) Oh great I'm here...now how will I recognize what I want? You never realize how much you count on packaging and labels to find the food you want until they're all different. Oy. One day I had to ask where the butter was and then where the sour cream was. But hey...just a few weeks here and I’m already starting to feel more at home.

Deine,
N*

P.S.  You don't even want to hear about me learning to use a washing machine here...

O.W.L.: Exceeds Expectations

11. September 2010

Köln was, in short, awesome. I was not expecting to have as much fun as I did, or that hearing about all the other teaching assistants’ similar experiences would be so reassuring. As I’ve already had quite a bit of teaching experience, the lesson part of the week was interesting and good practice, but didn’t really put me in a new situation. What was really helpful, though, was hearing my work group’s teacher speak about what she does in the classroom that she thinks is the most important and the implications of the differences she’s noticed between German and American schools. We also learned more about the bureaucracy we’ll be dealing with, so that was good too.

What surprised me the most was how much I enjoyed the social element of the week, which is not typical for me. We were separated by the areas we’ll be working in for our working groups to help us meet people we could potentially see frequently/plan lessons with/travel with, and I think that was really a good idea. There are only three FSAs (Fremdsprachenassistenten) in Saxony-Anhalt, but there are also many people in Leipzig, which is in Saxony, but isn’t so far away. Overall, the people seem nice and are also dedicated to our work here, and I’m so excited to continue building the relationships I started this week. For the first time, maybe ever, I felt like I was in a group of people who are like me, and being that I’m alone in Germany it was comforting.

Two people there were particularly easy for me to relate to: one of my roommates, a girl from Texas who will be working in Leipzig, and one of the others from the Saxony-Anhalt contingent, a guy from the D.C. area, who is actually the closest FSA to me location wise. I’m really looking forward to seeing them again soon, as well as the other girl who’s working in Saxony-Anhalt (I didn’t get to talk to her as much, but I think we could be good friends.).

In case you’re wondering, the train trip was uneventful...I went alone, but returned with good company. It was a good thing that everything went smoothly since I was locked out of my phone for the return trip since my attempt to change my pin number malfunctioned, and I didn’t have the original with me to turn it back on...oops!

The orientation took place at the beautiful Haus Altenberg...here’s a picture.

Deine,

N*

Flight of the...Bauhaus?

7. September, 2010

Last week, the color fest was happening in the Dessau, and this year, the color was green. The first day I got here was the opening day of the fest, and this large installation “landed” in the main square. The combination of the mechanical with plant life is strangely beautiful to me, and it reminds me of Around the World in 80 Days for some reason. It was fun to visit on Saturday evening when H and I went back again with J, her husband, to see it again and to see the other parts of the festival.

There was in opera concert in front of the Anhaltisches Theater and then we followed the semi, on which the Jugend Big Band was playing, over the bridge, past the train station to the Bauhaus. There wasn’t a lot to see along the way as H told me there normally is, and at the Bauhaus, there were also only a few green lights. The main attraction was the installation that the Bauhaus was a part of. There was a countdown clock projected on the ceiling of two rooms that was visible from the outside to tell when the Bauhaus was going to “take off”. When it did, there were several neat visual effects projected on the side of the building and interesting sounds and music to go with it (see video!), but after awhile, it just kept doing the same thing, so we weren’t sure if there was something else we were supposed to be “getting”, and we ended up leaving because it was late and also a little cold. Maybe the newspaper* will explain something more, or maybe it wasn’t meant to be understood in a concrete way, which would be typical Bauhaus. Hmmm...I guess we’ll see.

Deine,

N*

*Nope, there was no explanation given, so it will remain a mystery.

First Day

3. September, 2010

Usually the first day of school is the day you find out how your classmates are doing, meet your new teachers and determine what you’ll need to do to be successful in the coming year. Today was the first time that the day was a little different. I still did all those things, but backwards. I met my new colleagues as well as many of my students. I even did exercises with many of the classes I was in. But right away I recognized that knowing exactly what I’d need to do to be successful was much less quantifiable than in previous years. I worked with different students on reading, pronunciation and grammar, but who knows if what I did made a difference. It was strange being at the front of the classroom even though I’ve taught a lot of times before. I think the first day is always a little disarming for me. Sitting on the other side of the equation was something I was incredibly good at, and I got the results to show it. Now I wasn't get that instant feedback, I had been puzzling over this conundrum throughout the afternoon, so you can imagine my relief when I checked my mail this evening and had a message from a teacher-turned-friend asking me how I was feeling about this exact issue. I still may not know the “right” way to proceed with each of my students, but knowing that I’m not alone in this perpetual (already) questioning of methods and ideas makes me feel a whole lot better. The best thing I can do is to try to be aware: aware of needs and sensitivities; aware of the things that make my students “tic”; aware of how I can make them open to me thus making myself accessible to them. All in all, ponderous undertones or not, it was a good day. Here are a couple of memorable moments before I close:

Seeing the eager faces and welcoming smiles of the fifth graders melted my insecurities. They’re new at the school too and fairly new to English on top of that. Most of them seemed thrilled to have someone to whom they could ask the few questions they’ve learned so far and were happy to be understood. They’re still at the age where they are a little more carefree with their emotions and because I could see that spark in them today, I already know they will bring light to my days here. In a way, they’re also a mirror to my situation. In our mutual first year, we’ll experience the largest noticeable amounts of growth in our respective roles. I’m sure each of my classes will be rewarding in its own way, but there is just something about being a part of students’ first experiences with a new challenge that is very special.

Memorable moment two is slightly snarkier. (Not on my part, haha.) In the 8th class we were working on the construction “used to” today. Each of the students was to write five sentences. The standout sentence was by a boy in the front row, we’ll call him Max, who wants to be cool. He contrived to achieve this reputation with the following remark: “When he was young, Phillip (that’s what we’ll call his friend) used to be a girl.” Of course, they both thought it was hilarious. What do you even say to that? Figuring the best way not to encourage it was to continue without being perturbed, H and I focused on the grammar mistake that occurred in the original sentence instead. Oh teenage boys. I’m sure I can look forward to many unexpected statements from students this year; it just comes with the territory.

Well, I’ve not had a lot of sleep since I’ve been here and the opportunity is presenting itself, so I’ll end this here where there’s (somewhat of) a stopping point.

Deine,
N*

Grüße aus Deutschland!

2. September, 2010

So, I’ve finally arrived in Germany! The flight was long, but it was fairly uneventful with the exception of the three hour delay on my international flight. I actually spent most of the flight sleeping since the movies weren’t working. (Sad day because they had old movies that would’ve been so much fun to watch in any of the various language options!) It’s probably for the best that I got some sleep, though, since I had a white night the night before and H wants me to come into school with her tomorrow. Before I start in on that, I have one final airplane note. So I flew from Denver to Newark for the first leg of my trip, and they gave us breakfast. I was so shocked! I was thinking, “They want to give us WHAT on a domestic flight?” Who would’ve thunk it.

Anyways, I’ve really just been hanging out with H since I got in. I’m staying at her house for a couple of days before orientation and then I’ll move into my apartment. We looked into cell phones and internet, which turned out to be more difficult than we originally thought it would be. The problem is that most plans require that you sign a two year contract and show evidence of permission to stay in Germany for that whole time. Since I’m only here for a year, that obviously won’t do. We think we found a couple of reasonable solutions, though, so crisis averted. Later, Heike and I cooked some dinner (a nice salad with zucchini and tomatoes in a tomato-based sauce with cheese on top and then baked in the oven). And now I’m going to go to bed because I’ve elected to go in to school tomorrow despite the jetlag, so I have to be up at 5:30 AM. Gar, jetlag.

Deine,
N*

And Without Further Ado...

After an epic wait for internet in my apartment, it has arrived.  I wrote several posts during my first weeks here, so I'll post those now, and then I'll try to start posting regularly hereafter!  Thank you for your patience.

Deine,
N*

Coming Soon...

Hi guys!  I just wanted to let you know that I've arrived in Germany safely, and I'm having a wonderful time so far...but I don't have internet yet.  The technology problem is turning out to be more difficult than previously anticipated, and I will also be at an orientation in Cologne all week, so I probably won't have internet until after I return.  However, I have been writing posts, and I will put them up as soon as I have internet access on my own computer.

Some teasers about what is to come:

The trip (long and with a significant delay, but otherwise smooth).
My first day of school experience (it went smoothly...the kids are friendly and the teachers are welcoming).
My new apartment (Can I just say it's gorgeous!...and big!  I moved most of my stuff in, but I'll wait to tell you about it until I have some pictures to accompany my description).
The Green Fest in Dessau (Complete with something landing in the town square and a virtual flight of the Bauhaus building).
Vegetarian cooking (We've cooked every night and it's so much fun!)
And of course, my experience at the orientation this week.

Ok, so that's about all I have time for at the moment, as I need to help prepare dinner for our guests tonight!  I promise to update more regularly and in more detail soon.

Deine,
N*

"Janchen"

Speaking in a foreign language requires a degree of social intrepidity that is unprecedented in comparison to any speaking situation in your native language. Essentially, anytime you open your mouth to speak, a risk is incurred. Did you understand the thread of the conversation correctly? Is your response sound? And if it is, are you accidentally employing slang or euphemisms? Even though I am typically diffident around people I don’t know well, my penchant for foreign languages has fortuitously bequeathed me with the audacity to speak up in foreign tongues. Sure, I still feel the twinge of hesitation and ponder silence, but my itch to hone my skills usually wins out in the end. Thankfully, I haven’t knowingly ended up saying anything compromising or offensive to a stranger, but I’ve had my share of awkward speaking moments and misunderstandings.
Ironically my favorite language mishap actually happened to be at a seminar for German students who were gifted in speaking English. In the three days of the program, there wasn’t very much German spoken, and it was actually my brain still being in “German mode” that created the circumstances for my miscomprehension.

The students all arrived at the hostel where we were staying at different times, and Janchen* was one of the first to show up. The teacher who invited me to the workshop as a native speaker, H (also my supervising teacher next year), said to me, “Oh, there’s Janchen, he’s the only boy here.” I inferred that the student’s name was Jan (pronounced, “Yahn”), but I was confused about why H and the other teacher kept calling him ‘Janchen’. In German, the ending “chen” (pronounced “hyen” with a hint of “ch” between the ‘h’ and ‘y’) is either used as a diminutive or as a term of endearment when added onto the end of someone’s name. Understandably I was puzzled that both teachers were referring to Jan so informally in comparison to the other students, but I went with it, figuring there was a missing link somewhere.

There was. The next day, the students reintroduced themselves since one girl arrived late. When it was Jan’s turn, instead of simply saying that his name was Jan, he put on his most serious face and said, “My name is Jan. Jan Chen.” My confusion quickly dissipated. His name was Jan SPACE Chen; he was Chinese-German. The teachers were pronouncing his last name as it would be spoken in German. Oy. I had to wear my best teacher face to keep from having a laughing fit. Not only because of my own mistake, but also because the inflection of Jan’s sentence had matched itself precisely to the statement, “My name is Bond. James Bond.” Sometimes students make the funniest, most endearing remarks without knowing it.

I never did discover why the teachers had called Jan by his first and last name smashed together, but I did share the story with them later, and we all had a good laugh about it. I guess that no matter what the reason is behind a language mistake, the two most important things are that you learn from it and that you can laugh about it later so it doesn’t stop you from putting yourself out there again.

Deine,
N*

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Fortuitous Coincidences

Just when you think you’re going to be thousands of miles from home with no chance of randomly bumping into someone you know...you find out how small the world really can be sometimes. As I’ve been preparing for my trip to Germany, it hasn’t surprised me to discover that several of my friends and acquaintances will be spending time abroad as well. It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence among college students and recent college grads. In fact, I’ve had tentative plans for months to meet a close college friend of mine in Italy next spring. What I wasn’t expecting were the two following scenarios:

1. One of my best friends from high school (who also happens to be one of the few I still keep in touch with regularly) is going to be in Prague (a reasonable train ride from Dessau) for school in October...and one of my weeks off actually falls at the end of his visit.

2. A friend from high school who I’ve known almost my entire life, is studying abroad in Germany this year. Of all the places she could be, she’s in Leipzig. That’s only about two hours by train from Dessau.

Crazy, no? My motto for mentally preparing myself for all the situations I will inevitable encounter in the next year has been, “Expect the unexpected.” My reasoning behind this was to hopefully mitigate the shock factor of odd events in my life. I’m sure this mantra will serve me well, as nothing ever happens exactly how you plan it, especially when you are planning in a foreign language. But isn’t it nice that my first unexpected news has arrived in the form of two fortuitous coincidences? It certainly brought some light to my day!

Deine,
N*

Time After Time

Last weekend, I attended the wedding of two of my good friends from high school. The ceremony was beautiful in so many ways, and I am so glad for both of them. Afterwards, I was at the reception, where I spent time with many people there who I knew from high school. Since I was there alone, I ended up getting to catch up with all of them throughout the evening. At the end of the night, I started a conversation with a friend with whom I had a lot of classes in high school, but I haven’t seen since graduation. He recently moved to a new city for his job, so he’s in a similar situation to what mine in Germany will be, and we talked about it a little. Neither of us is particularly outgoing, so while moving may be exciting, it also means having to put ourselves out of our comfort zone to meet people. I can’t speak for him, but I don’t really mind spending time alone; however, it’s nice to have some friendly people around when I’m away from my family. The problem is finding them.

We agreed that making friends was easier (relatively...friendship is never easy) in high school. Until I left school, I never thought about how hard it can be to meet people when you don’t have chances to interact with others in classes or in a dorm-type setting. Making friends has been something that has been weighing on my mind lately, and it was reassuring to know that my college roommate and I are not the only ones who have been feeling this way. This summer, I’ve been working on my “people meeting skills,” so I’m excited to be a little more confident about being outgoing enough to meet some people my age in Germany. That being said, working through all of this for myself has made me all the more thankful for the friends I already have because finding friends who stick with you through it all is so rare. I just want to take a minute to let all of my friends know how much I do appreciate them. I’m looking forward to continuing to grow together, even though our lives may lead us far away from each other.

It was pretty much the end of the night by the time my friend and I started talking, and when the DJ announced the last song, he (my friend) asked me if I would like to dance with him. It was unexpected and struck me as very thoughtful of him, which meant a lot to me after coming to the wedding by myself. As we were dancing, I realized how much all of us have grown up through college. Four years ago, my friendships were limited by how much I was capable of letting people in, which meant I missed out on some friendships that I’m now open to having. Until I learned more about who I am, I wasn’t ready to have those friendships, or at least not certain aspects of them. Part of growing up is becoming who we always have been inside, so I’m sure I’m not the only one who has experienced this. The really great thing is that friendships from so long ago can change to take on who we are now because there is already a strong base of common experience upon which to build. I want that to happen, so I hope that you’ll take the time to get to know me again, and I’ll do the same for you. Even though so much is different now, some things aren’t and never will be. One of those things is how we’ve been lucky enough to have each other...then and now.

Deine,
N*

Limbo Land

I’ve been putting off writing for awhile because I’m feeling a little unsettled. The point of the summer has come where I have to focus on the future instead of living in the moment. Ever since college started, I haven’t stayed in one place for more than three months at a time. This constant impermanence in my life has gradually taken a larger toll on me as my desire to be home and to stay in one place has grown. This time, it’s even more difficult because my time away from home will significantly eclipse the amount of time I’ll be at home. I know it’s going to be alright; I never would’ve chosen this if I had doubts about that. It’s just the transition period that gets to me...the waiting.

Up until last week, it was easy for Germany not to seem real because there are so many unknowns. Now that it’s hitting me that I only have a month and a half left at home, the clock has started ticking in my mind. There’s so much that I need to accomplish before I leave, and thinking about leaving my family hurts too much to even contemplate. All I can really do is try to make the most of the time I have now.  The good news is that getting started is the hardest part for me. Instigating and handling change is a personal challenge for me, but at least once I accept that change is inevitable, I do adapt to new situations quickly. Next year has so many exciting possibilities that once it starts, I’ll be open to taking life as it comes.

So, the really great news that brought on these musings: My host teacher, H, thinks she’s found a place for me to live! A colleague of hers has an apartment on a separate floor of her house that she’s looking to rent. I’ll have my own bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, and it’s super-affordable (a quality that is not easy to come by in apartments in Germany). It’s between H’s house and the school where I’ll be working, so getting to either one will be no problem. I also like the idea that I will not be alone in an apartment complex, and that H knows the family also makes me feel comfortable, since she’s someone who I trust. It’s almost too good to be true. Keep your fingers crossed that it all works out!

Deine,
N*

Bring the Fire

It often happens to me that the things I swear I will NEVER do are what I end up enjoying. I claimed I would never play in an orchestra, go to the high school I graduated from, or go to school in the South, yet all of those things came to be in my life and were positive experiences that became very important to me. I should know by now not to make blanket “never” statements because they seem to play into the destiny of my life, and in my usual fashion, it’s happened again.

When I was younger, I decided I was never going to be a teacher. I also never thought I’d work with middle and high school students, but both of those things will become part of my reality in about two months. Of course, I’m at a point where I’ve had to eat my words because working as a teaching assistant is something I’ve wanted more than anything else for the past year, and I’m excited. Honestly, I’m also scared out of my mind. Since I’m technically a teaching assistant, it’s not like I’ve been training for this. It’s just me, and the experiences that made me pursue this opportunity in the first place, getting thrown off the deep end. That’s actually alright with me because I think sometimes the best way to learn is to do. I’m prepared to learn as I go, and even though mistakes are inevitable, what’s more important is how I deal with them.

In the last week, I’ve been lucky enough to discuss teaching with two people who shaped my high school experience positively. They both gave me welcome words of advice. The first was simple but so important: Start by learning all of your students’ names and something about them. If your students feel like you are really interested in them, they are more likely to invest in you. You have to make yourself accessible and make that connection to reach them. This ties into the other piece of advice nicely: You have to carry the passion for what you are teaching in you and figure out how you can help students understand why they too want to carry that passion. This is what I call “bringing the fire.” If you don’t like or don’t care about what you do, the students will know. It’s crucial to success that you come into class with a spark. It doesn’t matter how technically well you understand teaching methods if there’s not soul to back it up. The teachers I have admired the most have all had a passionate drive and that is what allows them to relate to and motivate their students to succeed. They want every student to understand why they love what they teach and so they go out of their way to make themselves relevant to even the most resistant students. This is the kind of teacher I want to be. The more you put in, the more you get out.

Deine,
N*

Let it Snow!

Don’t let the title fool you, summer is in full swing here. 98 degree days without AC (and thankfully also without too much humidity) are plenty hot enough for me. Of course, despite the heat wave, my knitting is anticipating the winter season. After four years in South Carolina, I’m thrilled to be preparing for a real winter, complete with real snow and maybe even some subzero temperatures. I haven’t been completely devoid of winter, since I spent all my breaks at home, but it’s just not the same. I like living where there are four distinct seasons, and some of the cutest knits are only appropriate somewhere where the temperature actually stays below freezing consistently.

Coincidentally, I received some yarn perfect for winter wear just when my urge to do some winter knitting kicked in. I knitted on pair of socks and there was still half a skein remaining, so I worked a pair of cabled, fingerless gloves. I’ve never knitted cables (or gloves for that matter) before, but they were a quick and easy knit. In addition to these two recent conquests, I rediscovered an old project that I’ve never gotten to wear due to said stint in mild weather. Maybe I’ll actually have occasion to wear this shawl in the next year.

Since winter is in my fingertips, I’m contemplating a new scarf (to match the work coat I don’t have yet) and maybe even a cardigan (since I’ve been looking for one since last year and haven’t found one that was just right). I’ve never knitted a sweater before, but I think I’m up for the challenge. Somehow this will all have to happen in between the several pairs of gift socks I’m working on at the moment, but it’ll all work out. I rarely keep what I knit, so some selfish projects will be a nice treat.

It’s not often that I get the chance to be this knitty, so I’m embracing it. If you have any awesome ideas about what I should work on in the future, please enable me, believe me, I appreciate it.

Deine,

N*