Sächsische...Silly!

19. Mai 2011

On occasion I have been known to be silly. Silly mixed with a healthy dose of the comic events that seem to saunter along in my wake. Combined with the fact that I'm super busy and a little stressed at the moment, a good friend of mine, my salsa buddy from university (and current penpal), T, is coming to visit me in Germany this week, and I'm so excited I'm practically spinning. All this crazy energy has certainly made for an interesting past week or so.


I shouldn't be allowed a bike.

 It all started two weekends ago when the inevitable happened. I finally fell off my bike. I can't really explain it any other way than by saying this: I have no fear. And on my bike, if you know me at all, you know that I SHOULD have fear. But apparently not. Here is the inner monologue I had with myself in the five or so seconds prior to crashing:

"Gee, look at that car parked half way in the bike lane. It's pretty narrow. Can I fit there? Sure, why not? Well, maybe not, but I could take that curb, right? Um, bad call. AHHHHHHHHHH!"

In my attempt not to look stupid by having to do the awkward hop-run off my bike, I effectively willing rode into a seven inch curb, resulting in a stunning display of my side-hopping abilibes as my bike rebounded off the curb into me before I took it over with me into the rock bed surrounding a tree. Fantastic. I landed on my hands, knees ricochetting painfully off bike bars. Somehow my knees and my dignity were the only parts that came out bruised. I guess I wasn't going that fast. In what world did hitting a curb seem like a good idea? No fear, I tell you.

Come to think of it, this isn't the only recent bike disaster of mine. A week or so prior to the curb incident, I inadvertently let all the air out of my tire when I was trying to pump it up five mintues before I needed to head to Wernigerode. It came rushing out at record speed, which I wasn't expecting, and I really wondered how it could be so hard to pump up a bike tire. Granted I did end up having a flat, so I wasn't totally to blame, but it still added insult to incompetency. It turned out to be lucky that I went forth sans bike because, aside from the fact that my tire probably would've died on my trip, my train to Dessau was so late that I had to run two flights of stairs to change platforms, which I never could've managed while lugging my bike.



Hiking in the Sächsische Schweiz
The Bastei

 Last weekend was spent with a fellow ETA, Emily, in Leipzig because we wanted to visit the Saechsische Schweiz for a hike. We got out at Kurort Rathen and took the ferry over the river to climb the hundreds of stairs up to the Bastei. The view was magnificent over the blue-skied, fertile valley and the fresh air and enticingly eerie magic specific to German forests gave me the getaway I'd been craving. ä



You can probs see the Czech Rep.
from here



To get back to my main point, though, my mind works in mysterious

ways, linking from one thing to the next at the speed of light, and in part because she thinks this way as well, Emily and I are epic conversationalists. When she and I get together or talk on the phone, you can guarantee that no work will actually get done as we bounce from topic to topic, with each one increasing the nerdiness quotient of the conversation, the longer we talk. Usually we subject bounce



Literally right out of
Caspar David Friedrich



simultaneously, but it has been proven that we are NOT indeed telepathic. In a rare silent moment as we descended scores of metal squares on the Schwedenloecher (Swedish holes) Trail, my energetic frenzy helped me take about ten gigantic mental steps away from the previous conversation we'd had before saying, "There are a lot of German verbs that start with 'e'," in a quippy yet contemplative tone. Emily just laughed. I would've too, honestly.

The night of the Castle season finale was not better...it was perhaps the so-called icing on the cake, in fact. The particularly wrenching finish to the third season did not help make me any calmer, and post-Castle that evening I was pouring my energy into my favorite new activity: travel enabling. I got on g-chat to enable Emily.

Me: We have to go through Leipzig on the way to Weimar. You should come with T and me.

E: Well, I'd like to, but I have to see about money.

Me: We all go on a Sachsen-Anhalt Ticket, then it's 10 Euros each.

E: Oh, well I should be able to handle 10 Euros.

We proceeded through a variety of tangents before landing on the topic of if getting to Croatia in July is feasible. WE were discussing potentially flying with EasyJet from Hamburg.

Me: I'm trying to figure out where they fly...It looks like they fly to Zagreb from Hamburg on EasyJet.

E: but we'd have to get to hamburg

Me: Querdurch ticket.

Emily: ah, right. i feel like that's just your comeback now

Me: :)

E: i could make a "your mom" joke and you would find a logical way to say "querdurch ticket."
 
At least my energy's being put to good use. And that brings me to today, Monday, where I am sitting antsily in school, waiting for the moment when I can throw the 80s tunes on now my Ipod and suppress the urge to dance down the street (I should be banned from the 80s when I'm excited...they don't do anything to help that situation!), so I can get home to pack a bag and then hop on a train to the Berlin airport, where at 21:30 this evening, if all goes as planned, I can start putting all my frenetic energy into being a good hostess!!

Deine,
N*

American Cooking 101

3. Mai 2011

My “Russian” friends plus Elise, Lara’s good friend and one of the 11th graders I know from the dance group at school and the ski trip joined me for dinner and English movie night. In true N* fashion, I planned far too many things to do and through a well-honed combination of over-procrastination and under-estimation, my apartment was clean, but the cooking portion of the evening was left egregiously lacking in doneness by the time Lara, Ben and Elise arrived. In fact, of the three things to be made, none were finished. The doorbell rang just as I poured the quark layer over top of the chocolate dough for the Russische Zupfkuche (literally: Russian pluck cake) I was baking.

“Dinner’s not ready, but I’m baking a cake,” I told my friends as we walked up the stairs. They “ah’d” appreciatively at the prospect of cake and appeared to be more concerned with the art in the stairwell than with the fact that it was 6:30 P.M., and they had a delinquent cook on their hands. Granted the art in the stairwell is quite…startling (It’s not mine, lol!), but more on that at a later date.

Once in my apartment, they politely offered to help, and as much cutting was required, everyone had plenty to do while I finished making the remaining cake batter into flat, pulled-off pieces over the top of the cake. Much like me at that age, my students don’t have so much experience in the kitchen, but they are fast learners. The kitchen was a friendly bustle of chatter in English and German.

“What can I do next?” Elise asked, as I pulled a bunch of green onions from the fridge.

“Green onions,” I replied.

“What?”

“Um…these…I can’t remember the word in German.”

“Das ist doch Lauch, wahr?” interjected Ben. (That’s green onions, right?)

“Was ist dann Schnittlauch?“ said Elise. (What’s chives then?)

“Wann es geschnitten ist,“ replied Ben (When it’s cut.)  (I love this story...and included it because when I was looking through a German cookbook I was given as a birthday present, I thought the same thing at first!)

“Nee, stimmt gar nicht. Der ist dünner,“ Lara cut in. (That’s not true. Chives are thinner.)

“Ach sooooo, das stimmt,“ conceded Ben. (Ohhhhh, that’s right.)

“You mean chives?” I guessed.

“Was denn? Chi…was?” Three puzzled faces looked over at me.

“They’re skinny and green.”

“What means skinny in English?” was the next question.

“Thin. Not fat,” I suggested.

“Ach so,” said Lara, who promptly got her list and made a quick note. Being me, I happened to have a bag of dried chives in the cupboard.

“These things?” I inquired.

“Yes,” said answered Elise decisively, as she held onto one end of the bunch of green onions, “but which part of the Lauch do we eat?”

After successfully identifying and cutting up the Lauch (and the three of them crying from a combination of hysterical laughter and green onion fumes – who knew they could be potent enough to draw tears?), we were ready to make salad dressing and mix the seasoning for the oven fries. This was an experience in itself because none of them had ever seen American measuring cups and spoons.

Finally the cake came out of the oven, smelling of cocoa, the fries were put in to bake in its place, and the four of us crowded around my laptop with plates of tortellini salad to watch “Singing in the Rain” in English. I have seen the movie enough times that I can practically quote it, and it was even more fun than usual to be able to watch my companion’s reactions. “…but you have to talk into the mike first. In the bush!” and the song, “Moses Supposes,” were particular favorites.

The perfect cake

The fries were also a hit, as was the cake with its perfectly creamy quark sinking delectably into the moist chocolate layer which had a slightly crunchy crust – something that I find to be the pinnacle of cakey perfection. Surprisingly, the three different dishes, not normally served together mad ea satisfying trifecta. Lara even made the tortellini salad again with her family.

I only hope that Lara, Ben and Elise had as much fun as I did and that they didn’t mind the cooking lesson. I so much prefer cooking with people, and there’s something magical about sharing a meal that connects us to each other in a different, but just as vital way as our verbal interactions.

Deine,
N*

P.S.  My German friends are FANTASTIC!

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



 

Always Check the Parking Space

19. März 2011

“Did you check the parking space?” my sister screams almost frenetically as we leave every location on family trips. Someone always answers that of course they have, even if they haven’t and then looks guiltily back to make sure karma doesn’t have her way with them for it. This frenzy of my sister’s stems back to our family’s first camping trip when she was four and I was nine. On such trips, our family station wagon is always packed so full that just opening a door leaves you in danger of having something tumble out. In that case, an Eeyore baseball cap belonging to my sister was the offending item. We replaced it later, but even 13 years afterwards, she’s never forgotten the incident. So that’s the rule: No matter what, you check the parking space.

Perhaps you are wondering what exactly this has to do with Germany. Well, now comes the part of the story where N* is stupid…very stupid…twice. Towards the end of our stay in Dresden, Michelle’s wisdom teeth started acting up. Badly. Now as I am prone to losing things, being careless and generally “not thinking” about all things common sense related, I can by no means say that what happened next was a result of that situation, but I can guess that having worry as a distraction did not play in my favor. Something had to give. And so I broke the rule: I did not pass go, I did not collect $200, and I definitely did not check the “parking space”.

About 30 minutes after leaving the train station, I noticed that I did not have my gift bag – a cause for great concern, since all my purchases from the trip were in it. I had already felt a little guilty, worrying that I had spent too much, so of course my first thought was that this was karma “getting me”. My second thought was accompanied by an empty ache because aside from at the Christmas markets, I haven’t really bought myself much in Germany, and the items I purchased in Dresden were effectively irreplaceable. My third thought was, “Please God, don’t let anything happen to my camera.” (If you missed that story, you can catch up on it here).

By some stroke of luck, the conductor had seen my poor abandoned bag all lonely and yellow on the platform, and it was still there when someone came up to fetch it. She gave me a number to call, and I managed to arrange to have my belongings sent back to me. For the nominal fee of (drum roll please…) €20, of course. Way to add insult to injury, but at least I received everything back intact yesterday. So please don’t pull an N* and leave things on train platforms, but of you should…ASK! The Deutsche Bahn just might have put its exacting efficiency into play and rescued your abandoned belongings.

Now this really should have been enough, but apparently it was just that kind of day. On our way to Berlin, we spent a couple of hours in Roßlau so I could grab some groceries since everything would be closed on Sunday when I cam back. While I was shopping, I was also on the phone with my Mom, talking about what was going on with Michelle. As we have just seen, distractions and I do not mix. As far as I can figure out, I must have forgotten to take my German debit card back out of the reader, or I accidentally dropped it on my way back. Either way, I didn’t need it in Berlin, so I didn’t notice it was gone until I was trying to buy my train ticket back to Roßlau.

Of course by the time I managed to change the €50 bill I luckily had with me into smaller bills, I had missed the only direct train to Roßlau for two hours and had to take one via Wittenberg, thus undergoing a three-hour trip while worrying about identity theft, rather than an hour and a half one. I was able to call the bank hotline and lock my card, and on Monday I called the bank and ordered a new one (there goes another €10). Like my package, I also received that yesterday.

While the whole situation was incredibly frustrating and stressful, at least my debit card was protected by a pin number and I didn’t lose any money, and I did get everything back, even if I had to pay (literally) for my carelessness. So as I continue on my travels, I will try to return to the decent track record I had held of not losing things in Germany up until last weekend, and I will always, ALWAYS check the parking space.

Deine,
N*

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*

Go-Go German Gadget!

When I walk into a German house, I am often charmed by the “European” look of everything. If you’ve ever walked into an Ikea, you’ll know what I mean; there’s just a staunchly European feel to it – a perfect triad of minimalism, appropriately welcoming (and often bright) colors and a certain chicness that differs distinctly in feel from American modern deco. Even if the furnishings are vastly different from what I’d choose myself, I always feel at home in these houses. Though I’m at no means ready to abandon my traditional sense of style, there are parts of this lifestyle that I could definitely see incorporating into a house someday.

The way houses are built here is also different. Sometimes the walls here are incredibly thick (greater than 1 foot), which makes sense from an insulation point of view, since energy is more expensive here and there’s no air conditioning. Multi-family homes are also common, so different levels of the houses are often occupied by different families, or different generations of a family. The “attic” part inside an A-frame is sometimes a “rental apartment” (like the one where I live), so all possible living space is used. Even the houses are connected together in city areas, with a green space only behind them. Of course, there are many single houses, big and small, in addition to the connected homes and apartments, so just like in the U.S., living situations can vary greatly.

While we’re on the topic of German houses and lifestyle, the thing I am continually fascinated by are the interesting and useful “gadgets” that can be found in my apartment/are used frequently in Germany. Since I’ve finally gotten a new camera since the tragic camera accident of 2010, let me show you what I mean!

1. We’ll start in my apartment. Check out these windows…they swing in with the left or right side attached to the wall AND tilt in, so there's just an opening at the top. I love the flexible options, and it makes cleaning on the higher floors of houses so simple.  (I wanted to put a picture here, but you just couldn't capture it.  Use your imagination!)

2. My heating system is in the floor and on the walls. It’s run by water pumps, so whenever the heat kicks in, the floors click which really freaked me out the first time I heard it and didn’t know what it was. It’s easy to use and allows me to heat different rooms to different temperatures, plus my feet are always warm.

3. Trash cans are kind of confusing, but the green aspect of them makes it worth it. I have separate containers for compost, paper, packaging and trash, plus there’s a separate place for recycling glass (bins for each of three colors) in town. There’s also a place to return certain plastic drink containers (in many grocery stores), which scans them individually and gives you back the appropriate bottle deposit.

4. Speaking of grocery stores…in large stores produce that is priced by weight is weighed in the produce section, where you then choose the product type and print a sticker with the weight and price already on it. It’s great not to have to guess what I’ll actually have to pay, not to mention it’s especially convenient here where I deal with the metric system and the Euro.  




Someone has been snacking!



5. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a German with a lunch box. Since sandwiches are standard lunch fare, they

typically use boxes like these in varying sizes, as well as smaller ones for fruit, snacks, etc. Cute, convenient and durable, as well as eliminating the use of aluminum foil or saran wrap. I’m a fan. I do have to admit that I still keep my box inside a lunch box, though.



 
 

Erasing function in action

6. Now you see it…now you don’t. I’ve taken up the fountain pen – the writing instrument of choice for many Germans. I love the way the writing looks and the way the weight of my pen feels in my hand. As a lefty I’m usually not a fan of pens for several reasons, so that I love the fountain pen is saying a lot. Plus, I feel nostalgic for the days before computers when fountain pens were a widely used writing instrument when I use it. Of course the fountain pen itself is cool, so the fact that you can actually erase it is even better. My students all come to class armed with both fountain pens and the so-called “Tintenkillers” (literally “ink killers”), which have a white tip for erasing on one end and a blue tip for writing over the erased areas on the other. Who knew?

7. I think bread slicers exist in the U.S., but I’ve sure never had one, so I’m quite enamored by mine. The bread here is superb, too. I always visit a bakery instead of buying in the grocery store, and I have the luxury of buying bread by the loaf, so it’s always freshly sliced at home. My favorites are the Kurbiskornbrot (Pumpkinseed Bread) and Dreikornbrot (Three grain bread).



Check it out...air vent!

 8. My bathroom actually features two interesting items. The pull-down window has a special tab at the top that opens to allow the humidity from the shower out of the room without letting the air outside into the house. The glass shower stall is also complete with its own squeegee for clearing the inner walls after showering. The water here is extremely hard, so if you don’t have a scraper, you constantly have to scrub off the limey residue left behind by the drying water drops after even one shower.



...note the crack in the middle!



9. Right now I actually like the idea of individual duvets with easily washable covers, especially from the standpoint of convenience. My full bed is actually two mattresses in one bed frame, so each has its own sheets and blankets. I do miss top sheets, though. The duvet is really the only blanket aside form the bottom sheet, so there’s actually nothing attached at the bottom of the bed! I was a little disappointed not to be able to sleep in the whole big bed, though…the crack in the middle sort of puts a damper in that!

Well, I think those are the most notable gadgets I can think of at the moment. Hope you’ve enjoyed them; I know I do! If you’ve ever found things like this during you’re time abroad, I’d be interested to hear about them!

Deine,

N*

  



Let Them Eat Fish!

15. Januar 2011

Long, long ago I promised an update on what it’s like to be a vegetarian in German. Here’s the skinny: Definitely doable, albeit periodically frustrating.

Here’s why:

1. Most traditional German food involves meat and some kind of gravy with potatoes, dumplings, or the like, or it involves some kind of sausage. Of course, there are many other things to try, but I do think it’s a shame that it’s very difficult for me to bond with people here over their favorite meals. Food ties us together in so many ways, so it’s a shame to miss out on part of that aspect of the culture.

2. Right now, being a veggie in Germany is like being a veggie in the U.S. about ten years ago. (Granted it is not always easy in the U.S., but certain steps forward have been made). Many people’s first reaction is to try to feed me fish. I know that it’s meant well, so I’m not offended, but I am not a pescatarian, so I don’t actually eat fish, and I also happen to be allergic to seafood. Oy. Try explaining that in German three times fast. Sometimes people also don’t realize that I also can’t eat broth made with meat products – an honest mistake – but then they feel badly and I feel badly, plus I don’t like to put anyone out, so it just turns into an awkward.

3. And possibly the worst: “Well, you can eat X because you can’t eat Y, too…but you could…” I find this distressing. I’ve never asked anyone to be veggie. I’m not even asking for a special meal; there have been occasions where I’ve offered to eat bread and cheese. All I want is for everyone to enjoy a meal together, whatever we have to do to make that work, so please, don’t try to change my beliefs without knowing my reasons. I promise to respect yours.

Thankfully I have a very understanding network in Dessau, not to mention that I mostly cook just for myself, so in everyday situations, it’s really not a problem. Most people are really flexible and helpful, and my German friends all seem to enjoy my recipes. I even got a veggie cookbook from the English teachers at school for my birthday, which I’m looking forward to using when I get back to the U.S. I’ll just have to get fast at metric-to-English conversions!

Deine,
N*

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*

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 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...

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*

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*