Real Quotes by Real Students – Credulous

Ever since my first day teaching, my students have said some pretty unpredictable, strange or just downright hilarious things. In class you learn to expected the unexpected, and I’ve found that a either snappy reaction to turn a comment on its head or good acting skills are my best friends in the classroom when put in a situation that leaves the classroom precariously on the edge of disorder. Funny, awkward or otherwise, these moments in class never cease to make me remember why I adore working with each and every one of my students (although sometimes the situation is not funny until afterwards) and having the chance to get to know them and their vibrant personalities.
As such, I’d like to share these snippets with you. I’ve been keeping track of them, and I’ll post them from time to time. Of course, they are all anonymous for the protection of the innocent. Here we go.


Since the beginning of the school year, I’ve maintained a masquerade with my students. H had me pretend not to speak German, and mostly I succeeded at masking my actual knowledge. Sometimes, however, I wasn’t terribly successful. It can be awfully hard not to react automatically to a language you’ve been learning for thirteen years. And thus arose situations like the following:

Remember, Richard from this story? Well, he set the stage here as well.

Richard: “Kannst du bitte herüber rutschen?” (Can you please scoot over?)

(I do it.)

Meng (the girl who sits in front of him): “Sie versteht dich?” (She understands you?)

(Richard shakes his head “yes” and I shake mine “no.”)

Meng believed me even though I had reacted to what she said in German.

Or like this one in the 9th grade:

As I was walking around the classroom, I overheard this snippet.

Joey (the class clown): N* kann sehr gut Deutsch! (N* can speak German very well!)

Uwe: Nein! (No!)

J: “Doch!” (Literally “however”, but functions as the fantastic one-word German comeback for expressing disagreement)

U: Nein!

The emphatic refusal to believe that I might speak German on Uwe’s part was priceless.

Many of my students now know I speak German…it’s not hard to figure out if you think about it, but there is still a sizeable population that remains unconvinced. Regardless of their opinion, they all speak only English to me, so I guess H’s strategy worked.

Deine,
N*

Real Quotes by Real Students – Everything but the Kitchen Sink

Ever since my first day teaching, my students have said some pretty unpredictable, strange or just downright hilarious things. In class you learn to expected the unexpected, and I’ve found that a either snappy reaction to turn a comment on its head or good acting skills are my best friends in the classroom when put in a situation that leaves the classroom precariously on the edge of disorder. Funny, awkward or otherwise, these moments in class never cease to make me remember why I adore working with each and every one of my students (although sometimes the situation is not funny until afterwards) and having the chance to get to know them and their vibrant personalities.


As such, I’d like to share these snippets with you. I’ve been keeping track of them, and I’ll post them from time to time. Of course, they are all anonymous for the protection of the innocent. Here we go.

Dessau has a good-sized Vietnamese population, and the parents of these families very often run shops that are full of just about anything you can imagine, from scarves to thread to tablecloths to cards to tools. One of the 8th grader’s parents has such a shop, and during the unit about jobs, he was trying to describe the store.

He said, “My parents store sells EVERYTHING…clothes, garden…Dingen…”

“Ding” is akin to “thing” in English. And this was one of those perfect situations where Dinglish* (no pun intended) came to the rescue perfectly.

Deine,
N*

*For those of you who don’t know, “Dinglish” refers fondly to situations where German (Deutsch) and English are mixed together.

Russian in Germany

19. März 2011

Over the past few months, I have been trying to learn Russian (with varying degrees of diligence). I sit in a 9th grade class a couple times a week, meet with a Russian teacher and a GT student after school and meet with two Russian students for Russian-English conversation hour on Fridays. Despite this, I often find it difficult to stay motivated without actually having a consistent class at my level. Not to mention that I’m learning in German. Oy. I have made a decent amount of progress, though, and it’s fun. I love the way the language sounds, although my pronunciation is terrible. At least the grammar makes sense to me.



Check it out!



I anticipated that my learning curve might be steeper than with previous languages I’ve learned because first I

had to learn to read and write Cyrillic (and of course, cursive and print are fairly different, just to make it more confusing), so I’ll just keep trying. If nothing else, I can speak (very) simply and I learned to read and write, which is an accomplishment in itself! Also, I find myself being able to pick the limited words I know out of conversations in Slavic languages while I’m traveling…cool!

What I really want to talk about here, though, are the relationships that I’ve gained in my attempted to learn Russian in Germany.

First, there’s my Russian teacher, Frau Doktor T (Don’t you love the German titles?). She has so much passion for the Russian language, and I actually thought she was Russian for a while. It turns out her Mom did a Russian radio show during DDR times, so she grew up with the language. She’s been really helpful in the learning process and is now a friend in the teacher room. There are around 100 teachers at my school, and I really only have a relationship with a few because people are in and out so much, so making a new friend was definitely positive. Plus, she’s really full of life and fascinating to talk to. We speak German together, and she tries out the English phrases she knows sometimes, too.

I’ve also gotten to know “der kleine Kostya,” the GT student learning Russian. I actually knew him from my time at T’s (my former host mom) school during my previous visits to Germany, so it’s funny we’ve been brought together again. He’s very shy, but lately we walk together to the train station after Russian lessons, as he goes that way to walk home. He talks and I talk – mostly in German – and it’s interesting to hear what he has to say. Sometimes you can tell that there’s so much going on in his head at once that he can’t express it all quickly enough. You can almost see wheels spinning and gears whirring – adorable. His Mom has even said that he can’t read before bed because he starts thinking about so many things that it’s impossible for him to sleep afterwards.

Perhaps some of my favorite people are my Russian-English speaking partners, Lara and Ben. They’re 9th graders, but in the U.S. you’d never believe it because they’re so smart and mature. Lara always comes to our sessions armed with a notebook to write down any words we talk about that she doesn’t know. Smart really since she and Ben are two of the 16 students from our school who will participate in the month-long exchange program in Texas this fall. Since I know them primarily from outside the classroom setting (Lara is also in the dance group I teach in at school), I’ve really gotten to know them on a much more personal level, and I think we’ve all been able to benefit from the exchange. They’ve taught me about a myriad of things in Germany from Bleigießen (lead figures that are melted over a candle on a spoon and then dropped into cold water before their shape is “read” to show what is the come in the new year) to how to tell someone their zipper is unzipped in German (valuable information, I tell you…if someone tells me that, I need to know!) to everything under the sun about the German school system to when you should (and shouldn’t) ring your bike bell. Not to mention that they’ve helped me feel truly integrated in both the school and the culture. I only hope that I’ve been able to share as much of my culture with them as they have their culture with me.



Making guac



One night they came over and we made burritos and guacamole. They’d never had guacamole before (gasp!), and we had a lot of fun mashing the avocados. In true Chipotle fashion, I helped them learn how to roll a burrito and they really managed it quite well. I was pretty sure that they enjoyed their first foray into the realm of Mexican food, and sure enough a couple of weeks later, they told me that they made burritos with their families one weekend. That really made my day.

Who would’ve thought that such fantastic relationships would come out of learning Russian in Germany? My life here is full of wonderful people, and I am so thankful for their warmness and acceptance.



Rolling like a pro...note the pinky!



Deine,

N* 



Beautiful flowers they brought me



 

A Series of Random Topics

13. März 2011



Berliner Dom and blue skies...finally!

 This week, Michelle finally got to come visit me. We’d been waiting for this trip for months, especially since we hadn’t seen each other since graduation in May. I started out by surprising her at the airport (we’d arranged to meet at the train station), and we headed to the main train station, locked up her bags with a fair amount of hassle, and set off for the Berliner Dom. It had been a few years since I’d there, and Michelle never had, so the monumental greatness and beauty of the massive church was not lost on either of us. After that we walked past the Synagogue, noting a surprising number of Mexican restaurants along the way, before heading back to Roßlau to prepare for two full days at school.

Mondays and Tuesdays are always crazy to begin with, and the teachers I worked with all wanted to integrate Michelle into class work and take advantage of having another native speaker around. Even I didn’t quite anticipate how much they’d want to integrate her, and I think it was a bit overwhelming at times (sorry, Michelle!). She stepped up with ferocity, though, for topics ranging from a debate about whether gun control would lower violence in schools, to the American West, to life in small-town America, to life in the South, to small talk and teenage pregnancy. It was enough for me without the jetlag, and Michelle and I were seriously exhausted. I hope that she enjoyed experiencing the Gymnasium, even if it was hectic and stressful at times.



Salsa demo

 The big reward came at the end of the day on Tuesday when we got to teach three Salsa classes! We started in my afterschool group of 9th and 10th grade gifted English students – five girls – and decided to work on the Samba line dance before teaching a few steps of partner salsa. We only had 45 minutes, but the girls learned very quickly.

Then we worked with the 6th grade dance group on the basic salsa steps through a follow-along warm-up, reviewed the Samba line dance I’d taught them the week before and then learned some new dance steps to help them with their “Salsa personalities”. It was so good to have a chance to work with them separately from the older students because they really blossomed. Usually some of the 8th graders come at that time too, so it’s really difficult to keep a balance between the levels.

The last group included the more advanced students, ranging from 6th to 11th grade. Surprisingly they all meshed together really well. The girls seemed to enjoy the salsa, and I was also glad to see a few of my English students from 9th and 11th grade join us for the day. Since most of them are already dancers, counting was not a problem, and I couldn’t believe how quickly they picked up the steps and the Spanish names for them. An hour and a half later they could dance a full song of “Micaela” and do about six steps. Wow! Half of them had to be guys, but because there were not actual guys in attendance, it wasn’t so much of a problem. They also requested to dance the Samba line dance I taught them last week again.

I could see they were having fun, and Michelle and I certainly were! It made me so proud to see how versatile they were as dancers and how willing to take on the challenge of dancing in English and Spanish they were. I’m fantastically proud and thrilled to be lucky enough to continue working in a dance group like that!

Deine,
N*

Whirlwind

2. März 2011

In February, Erin and I traveled to Lisbon over our Winter Break. The trip really started in Greece, though. Well, at least the idea did. We thought we’d go somewhere warm for our February winter break, but it turns it turns out that winter in Greece actually is winter and not the mild temperatures we were seeking. Plus many places are closed in the off-season. With some German directions, we settled on “Lissabon” without actually knowing a lot about it. The trip was simultaneously one of the most thrilling, albeit it one of the must frustrating culturally I have yet to encounter. 



Gateway by dusk



Neither Erin nor I spoke a word of Portuguese prior to the trip, although I can understand a substantial amount of the written language. Portuguese is the ultimate language mash-up, so my varied amounts of background knowledge in Italian, French and Spanish served me well for reading. The problem is that the spoken word often sounds much different than you’d think because, as I was told, all of Portugal’s many colonial holdings during the empire have shaped the vocabulary and pronunciation of the language, so really speaking any Portuguese in a way that wasn’t completely degrading the language or my pride was a lost cause. We settled for being able to say “thank you” – “obrigado(a).” If you can only say one word in a language, I think that’s a pretty good choice.

“Pastéis de Nata”



Trying to find decent meals was difficult with a vegetarian in tow, so from that standpoint, our experience with authentic food was not fantastic, although the pizzeria next to our hotel had an unbelievable spinach and mushroom pizza. The pastries were out of this world, though. Lisbon is filled with little cafés where locals go in the late afternoon to enjoy coffee and pastries, often while standing right at the counter. We tried square-shaped doughnuts, flaky spiral breads and something made from quince among others, but perhaps the most sensational were the “Pastéis de Nata” which we abstained from getting until the last day, so we could eat them at their place of origin, the “Pastéis de Belém”. There you can enjoy these custard-filled tarts, still hot from the oven, outside with a view of the water. The day was warm at about 60° Fahrenheit, and we basked coatless, thus securing our image as tourists, while the creamy custard and crusty crunch of the tart cups was a perfect compliment to the weather.



Typical mosaic ground



That day wrapped up a whirlwind of sightseeing encompassing the main sights of the mosaic-sidewalked city, as well as a day trip to the cities of Sintra and Cascais, with a stop at the Cabo da Roca – the westernmost point in Europe. The countryside was a veritable jungle of verdant trees, bushes and flowers, which was juxtaposed with the indescribable turquoise depths changing to roiling white breakers which graced the still-green coastline. In Cascais I narrowly escaped a sneaker wave as it rushed in suddenly to engulf my legs to the knees, above which rested the blissfully dry inside-out edges of the jeans I had so fashionable folded up over themselves to the thigh mere seconds before. It was a lucky break indeed to be wading in the Atlantic in February with relative comfort.

   

Jerónimos Monastery



The mild temperatures allowed us to roam the ruins of a Moorish castle in Sintra and the Castello de San Jorge in Lisbon itself. Both were full of giant stairs, parapets paralleling those I had only read about in books as a child, and picturesque panoramas. The latter was also filled with cats and peacocks. The National Palace in Sintra was a lavish meshing of colorful patterned tiles, paintings and regal-looking furniture, complete with the most enormous kitchen I’ve ever seen in my life. Each gigantic pot had room underneath it for a decent-sized blaze, and one of the ovens was like a giant closet! The architectural feats in Lisbon are bolder and more varied than I’ve ever seen, in main part due to the fact that the city is so old that something from nearly every time period and from many cultures – Moors, Romans, Visigoths, etc. (we saw a real aquaduct!) can be found. The famous Belém Tower and Jerónimos Monastery are actually quite young in comparison with many sites, but they are no less spectacular; both are feats of grandeur with ornate stone decorations that we can only dream about in the U.S.



Typical mosaic tiling





Belém Tower



Cathedral Memorial



A 3 hour turned 5 hour tour with our guide and just one other Italian man allowed us more glimpses of the city’s spectacular diversity. In 1755 an earthquake destroyed most of the city and along with its resulting tsunami caused the deaths of a large percentage of the population. The city regenerated quickly with the first earthquake-proof housing, leaving the towering, crooked vertebrae of a ruined church as a remembrance, and allowinga new, modern layer of the city to be born. Most buildings were ravaged, but the parts of the city build on bedrock such as the Alfama Quarter remained virtually untouched. Walking here was like entering a completely different world where laundry is left unattended and no one locks their doors. It only takes ten minutes to reach the city center on foot, but somehow this world of quaint houses, public baths and Fado restaurants has maintained a spirit of its own.



View into Alfama



I was fascinated to learn how people from all economic backgrounds coexisted in Alfama. Life there seems to be about LIVING. This tolerance for differences carries out into the city’s easy multiculturalism as well. I had noticed how culturally diverse the city was, but I was surprised to hear how, unlike other diverse cities, there was no “Chinatown” or “Little Italy” there. Our tour guide, an immigrant himself, explained that this integration is something else that stems back to colonial times. When the Portuguese were trying to build their empire, each soldier sent to a foreign land was required to take a wife as a way to gain rapport with the people and make their holdings more stable. As a result when people from these colonies came back to Portugal, they were already integrated into society via their Portuguese family members, so there was no need to move into a separate area of the city. There wasn’t any pressure to do so anyways because so many people had foreign family members themselves. Ironically, out of the country’s efforts to colonize – something that usually involves taking someone cultural else’s identity and pushing your own upon them – the Portuguese immersed their own people in multiculturalism. This has given birth to an immeasurable spirit of tolerance in the city. “We have our problems,” our guide told us, “but racism isn’t one of them.” Hearing this from the lips of an immigrant, who feels able to identify in part as Portuguese, gave me so faith in humanity. I’d like to live somewhere where people are seen first as people, rather than as colors, religions or countries.



Elevator!



We invested in a Lisboa (name for Lisbon in Portuguese) Card – a wise choice since it afforded us numerous discounts and free entries to museums and monuments in addition to unlimited use of all public transportation systems in the city. This included buses, the metro system, street cars, old-fashioned San Francisco-like trams, as well as the elevators. You could ride up several stories and climb to a panoramic view of the city, but at first I was a bit confused as to why they were considered a mode of transport. This is until I realized hat high up on the back side was an aerial pathway connecting the towering structure with the hill behind it. We tried it once, and although the line took about 20 minutes, the trip in the giant wrought-iron encased box was a much-needed escape fro the winding uphill path through the streets we would have otherwise taken. It was a shame I didn’t have my pedometer, but based on previous experience I can tell you we probably walked 6-8 miles (and sometimes more) each day.

Our last night in Lisbon was dampened by our unsuccessful pursuit of food, as we sort of ended up in the middle of a feud between two restaurants hosts. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and we should have chosen neither establishment, but we were so hungry and frustrated that we caved. To top it all off, we ended up missing our bus-stop at the airport because the bus stopped at only one of the three that were advertised (you probably have to know when to press the button to tell the bus you want to get out there), and we ended up trekking our bags the half mile back to the airport. Oy. This curbed our mood significantly on the return trip, but once we were back in Dessau for the weekend, it was easy to remember the overall positive feeling of our time there as we scrolled through hundreds of fantastic photos!

With that, I will leave you with one final anecdote that illustrates just how crazy some aspects of the trip became. Erin and I needed stamps, as several of the postcards she was sending were headed for Germany, so she couldn’t just send them when we returned. Unfortunately, she ended up with stamps for Europe on all of her postcards and some needed to go to the U.S. in Portugal you have to take a number and get in line at the post office because the Portuguese like to be able to enjoy coffee if it’s going to be a long wait. So, when Erin came over to the counter where I was still being helped, the attendant noticed the error, removed the stamps and replaced them with new ones, telling us in broken English that she couldn’t resell them, but we could give them away.

We didn’t want the stamps to go to waste, so we decided to try to give them to people who we saw were mailing postcards. Our first victims were an older man and woman. Unfortunately their English wasn’t so good, but when they said they were sending the card to Italy, I jumped in without thinking, “Parla italiano, Lei?” After they replied in the affirmative, I finally managed to explain about the stamps and how they were free because we couldn’t use them. That worked with some minor language hang-ups on my part (my Italian is a bit rusty, and I’ve never had the chance to speak to a lot of native speakers), but then the postmaster came over and started telling us (in Italian!) that it was illegal to sell stamps, which we explained wasn’t what we were trying to do, as did the couple. He still looked angry, so we left a “free stamps” in Portuguese with the help of our dictionary and made our exit. We’re pretty sure the postmaster probably took the stamps away as soon as we were gone, but at least we tried.

I caught Erin completely off guard with my quick transition into Italian, and the two of us laughed about the incident later, although while it was happened, it wasn’t so amusing. And with that, I shall close the door on Lisbon and wait for the next adventure!

Deine,

N*

Columns on Belém Tower

Moorish Castle ruins

Westernmost Point in Europe

       

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*

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*

"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.