Well it seems I am making up for lost time here... three posts in one day. But the previous two were writen this weekend and just not posted until today. Now, lets see how far I get on this before the crabby looking janiter comes and kicks me out of the school.
Before I begin the true point of this, it must be said that my feet are freezing. So cold in fact it is hard to consintarte on anything else. It is raining and dreary today in Ffm (as the locals call it - the germans find it necessary to abreviate nearly EVERYTHING). As a consiquence ofthe rain and the cold - I am freezing and wet. I fear I shall be this way for the next at least 6 months.
Anyway, so onto language....
What a facinating thing really. Since I've been here (and everytime I'm here, come to think of it) I can't help but become fixiated on language and the role it plays in our lives - in the human experience. I am facinatied by language anyway, when at home amoung other native speakers of English, but being here multiplies that facination ten fold!
On trains and in the street I find myself staring at small children and their parents as they learn to speak. I think most people in a foreign country and learning a second language have a simillar reaction on first seeing children speaking the language: "Oh my gosh! the kids can speak it too!" I think the difference is, I can't seem to get over that facination. I watcht he children and marvel at how we aquire language. These children are growing up speaking German and pronuncing sounds compelty foreign to their American peers (or frech, or chinease, or what ever) and they never think twice about it. Its facinating how the same child raised in two different countries (assuming that were possible, of course) would grow up with the cpacity to speak two different langauges. I find it uterly miraculious the way in which our brains are wired to be able to aquire what ever language we are exposed to. Its amazing how baby babble, which from what i can tell sounds just about the same in every langauge, can tthen turn into what ever langauge the chld will speak. How maluable the human mind is! Wow!!
Then there is of course the adult asspect of language. When I am here, I can never stop thinking about howlangauge is this universal interface between us and the rest of the world. It connects us and our experiences as individuals with the rest of humanity. I find it hard to believe that we could ever really connect with or understand another person without language. Thus I find comunicating endlessly frustrating because I seldom have the word I need in German to express what I am thinking or feeling. And without the words how can anyone know who I truly am.
>>>>> Ahhh and here came the crabby Janitor - 20 to 6 everything closed ok?!!" Grrrrr<<<<<<<<<<
Without langauge how can you ever connect with another person. I find it frustrating that no one else seems to notice this. They expect me to be friends with the Germans, and close ones at that, but I just don't see how at this point its possible. Aquantances, ok, I can see that, but friends. Who wants to be friends witha babling idiot who can mostly just say "ja" and "ok" and "gut"? They don't know who I am and I can't possibly know who they are. I think this is why I find the idea of dating a german almost inconcievable (past experiences not withstanding). How can I be "partners" with someone when we aren't coming to the table with the same set of rules?
Waht baffles me most is that no one else seems to notice this. Even other foreigners. They just speak and think ok, if its not perfect. But I'm not concerned with grammer and correctness; i'm concerned with ideas and concepts. How can you fully express yourself in a language that is not fully yours?
Just a few thoughts on my linguistic frustrations. Even in the event I became a fluent speaker I don't forsee myself getting over it. Anyway here comes the Huasmeister.....
Thursday, September 27, 2007
In other news...
This past week has been its expected roller never ending roaler coaster of emotions and activity. Sunday I spent the day recovering from my harrowing accidental trip several towns Southeast of here, in an attempt to visit Antje. After returning home from spending the night with her and her family I took a much needed and fairly common these days, nap. I then decided to brave the paroles of laundry doing and ask my landlord if it was alright. She insisted on helping me put the laundry in and start it, which in retrospect was probably a good idea given hat German washing machines are absolutely incomprehensible contraptions. She asked me what temperature I wash my laundry on and expecting this question I said the coolest temperature possible, knowing Germans love too cook their clothes (they wash thins on 90 degrees – Centigrade!) She then began to argue with me, as she’s want to do, and insisted I look in my clothes at the tag to see what temperature they should be washed at. I explained, no, American clothes don’t have temperatures on them our machines are different. Assuming me an idiot she proceeded to all but take off her shirt to show me where the temperature make was on the tag. I sad yes, I know German clothes say that, but mine are American and they do not. Not only do our washing machines not work the same way, we use Fahrenheit. After several minute of arguing with her and her voice getting louder and louder (if the dumb foreign girl doesn’t understand things, its best if you shout them at her, that helps her understand better) she finally coalesced and let me wash my clothes on 35 degrees.
Apparently though, her help was more necessary than I thought, because when trying to do my laundry again tonight, I nearly broke the machine and flooded the laundry room… so I guess I’ll have to ask again tomorrow and endure the showing and thoughts that I am stupid, once again.
Monday, despite my efforts I could not pull myself from my melancholy depression and found myself utterly unable to speak German. No matter how hard I tried something between the two languages came out and mostly I just confused those I tried to talk to. I did however receive the phone number of a potential apartment offered from one of my teachers. The family was Russian and leaving for America so that the husband could teach at Harvard for a year and needed someone to rent the apartment. The hope was that it would be me and a Spanish girl renting it. That nigh , though, I couldn’t seem to muster the German energy necessary to call I planned to make the call the next night. In addition I had hoped to go to Marburg for a brief visit that afternoon, but after n hour and a half of running all over the city trying to contact my friend Clinton, I gave up when I missed the train.
I then arrived home to learn that the phone was off the hook and I couldn’t make any calls. Thing my landlord was gone and had just accidentally left the phone off the hook I went downstairs to find her napping in the living room where she seemed very annoyed that I was disturbing her and told me that, Yes the phone was off the hook as it is every day from 1-3 during her afternoon nap. This meaning I am unable to receive or make calls during this time. This is added to 9:45010:15 at night when I am also not allowed to make calls, and any other time I am on the phone and she happens to pick up and I am expected to hang up so that she can use the phone! Thank goodness I finally got a cell phone.
Oh and how you should see the cell phone. How trendy and modern and sleek it looks. Hardly wider than a credit card. And then you turn it on, see its digital display (like a clock), and realize it is slightly higher on the technology scale than Zach Morris’s Saved by the Bell phone. It makes me laugh. Its accessible for all people – says the box – which means it takes 10 min to read a text because only half a word at a time fists on the screen. For example, in my phone book my friend Jessica’s name is Jessic –scroll, scroll, scroll – a.
Tuesday evening I made an appointment to see the afore mentioned apartment and tow other WGs, as they are called. WGs Wohnungsgemeinschafte, which are houses or apartments where sever not necessarily acquainted people live together and share the rent (usually young people). After being a half an hour late to see the apartment as a result of missing my train back into the city – stupid 45 min ride into the city – and getting lost twice, as I am quite commonly known to do, I finally made it to the apartment. With some perspective now, I can say it was wonderful. Furnished beyond belief (these people are hard core clutter bugs) and included internet, phone, cable, a printer, and a scanner!! The problem: they wanted 400 Euro a month for it which is over half of the meager 700 I earn a month. That would leave me 75 a week to live on and would preclude any traveling. Not knowing, though, what the other two WGs would look like I told them I wasn’t sure. They needed to know NOW though, b/c they were leaving in 5 days for America (this is not my fault – someone should have gotten on the stick with this one). Anyway, they told me I had to call them that night… So After a trip across the city and more time spent lost and confused I saw my second WG. A basic apartment, with an unfurnished room and a somewhat unfriendly perspective roommate, for 317. I was not impressed – mostly by the girl I’d be living with. Then it was back across the city, now in the dark, thus causing more lostness, to see the third WG. This one had the greatest location I had seen. In Bochenheim, near the Uni, and in an adorable part of town. The building was beautiful and over 100 years old. The 2 girls living there with whom I’d be living were… interesting though. When I walked in they sat me down and began drilling in German. By this time I was exhausted from all my traveling and getting lost, and my German skills were running on empty. They asked me a list of questions while exchanging knowing glances. I then found out they were 19 and 33 and there were 2 others that would be living there as well. The apartment was simply 5 very large rooms with a small hall connecting them all, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Seeing as the room was not furnished, I am not wild about sharing a single bathroom with 5 girls, and the residents seemed… well, a little strange; I rode the train home disappointed and dreading calling the Russian apartment family. I was simply too exhausted and malnourished (I literally had eaten only a croissant that day) to make such a decision and I needed time to think. I called the family though and wound up telling them yes, I’d love to take the apartment. After a talk with mom, though, some tears shed on the train ride home, and a sleepless night it became abundantly clear I could not afford 400 a month. So I called them back the next morning and told them no. So here I am, back at square one.
The rest of my week was uneventful, aside from my first very awkward day of teaching on Thursday. Teaching the declaration of independence to non-native speakers is… well.. hard. Surprise surprise they have no idea what its about – hell American kids don’t know what its about.
I did, however, get 7 of my 12 hour weekly schedule set, which was nice to know. And made good acquaintance with another teacher named Karin.
Friday and Saturday my friend Jessica from Marburg came to visit and we shopped a bit and saw the city. For the most part though we exchanged Fulbright stories of frustration and success. And we ate some much needed good food. After she left this afternoon, I came home and reheated some Indian food for super. Yay for the hot plate – oh what I’d give for a microwave.
Apparently though, her help was more necessary than I thought, because when trying to do my laundry again tonight, I nearly broke the machine and flooded the laundry room… so I guess I’ll have to ask again tomorrow and endure the showing and thoughts that I am stupid, once again.
Monday, despite my efforts I could not pull myself from my melancholy depression and found myself utterly unable to speak German. No matter how hard I tried something between the two languages came out and mostly I just confused those I tried to talk to. I did however receive the phone number of a potential apartment offered from one of my teachers. The family was Russian and leaving for America so that the husband could teach at Harvard for a year and needed someone to rent the apartment. The hope was that it would be me and a Spanish girl renting it. That nigh , though, I couldn’t seem to muster the German energy necessary to call I planned to make the call the next night. In addition I had hoped to go to Marburg for a brief visit that afternoon, but after n hour and a half of running all over the city trying to contact my friend Clinton, I gave up when I missed the train.
I then arrived home to learn that the phone was off the hook and I couldn’t make any calls. Thing my landlord was gone and had just accidentally left the phone off the hook I went downstairs to find her napping in the living room where she seemed very annoyed that I was disturbing her and told me that, Yes the phone was off the hook as it is every day from 1-3 during her afternoon nap. This meaning I am unable to receive or make calls during this time. This is added to 9:45010:15 at night when I am also not allowed to make calls, and any other time I am on the phone and she happens to pick up and I am expected to hang up so that she can use the phone! Thank goodness I finally got a cell phone.
Oh and how you should see the cell phone. How trendy and modern and sleek it looks. Hardly wider than a credit card. And then you turn it on, see its digital display (like a clock), and realize it is slightly higher on the technology scale than Zach Morris’s Saved by the Bell phone. It makes me laugh. Its accessible for all people – says the box – which means it takes 10 min to read a text because only half a word at a time fists on the screen. For example, in my phone book my friend Jessica’s name is Jessic –scroll, scroll, scroll – a.
Tuesday evening I made an appointment to see the afore mentioned apartment and tow other WGs, as they are called. WGs Wohnungsgemeinschafte, which are houses or apartments where sever not necessarily acquainted people live together and share the rent (usually young people). After being a half an hour late to see the apartment as a result of missing my train back into the city – stupid 45 min ride into the city – and getting lost twice, as I am quite commonly known to do, I finally made it to the apartment. With some perspective now, I can say it was wonderful. Furnished beyond belief (these people are hard core clutter bugs) and included internet, phone, cable, a printer, and a scanner!! The problem: they wanted 400 Euro a month for it which is over half of the meager 700 I earn a month. That would leave me 75 a week to live on and would preclude any traveling. Not knowing, though, what the other two WGs would look like I told them I wasn’t sure. They needed to know NOW though, b/c they were leaving in 5 days for America (this is not my fault – someone should have gotten on the stick with this one). Anyway, they told me I had to call them that night… So After a trip across the city and more time spent lost and confused I saw my second WG. A basic apartment, with an unfurnished room and a somewhat unfriendly perspective roommate, for 317. I was not impressed – mostly by the girl I’d be living with. Then it was back across the city, now in the dark, thus causing more lostness, to see the third WG. This one had the greatest location I had seen. In Bochenheim, near the Uni, and in an adorable part of town. The building was beautiful and over 100 years old. The 2 girls living there with whom I’d be living were… interesting though. When I walked in they sat me down and began drilling in German. By this time I was exhausted from all my traveling and getting lost, and my German skills were running on empty. They asked me a list of questions while exchanging knowing glances. I then found out they were 19 and 33 and there were 2 others that would be living there as well. The apartment was simply 5 very large rooms with a small hall connecting them all, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Seeing as the room was not furnished, I am not wild about sharing a single bathroom with 5 girls, and the residents seemed… well, a little strange; I rode the train home disappointed and dreading calling the Russian apartment family. I was simply too exhausted and malnourished (I literally had eaten only a croissant that day) to make such a decision and I needed time to think. I called the family though and wound up telling them yes, I’d love to take the apartment. After a talk with mom, though, some tears shed on the train ride home, and a sleepless night it became abundantly clear I could not afford 400 a month. So I called them back the next morning and told them no. So here I am, back at square one.
The rest of my week was uneventful, aside from my first very awkward day of teaching on Thursday. Teaching the declaration of independence to non-native speakers is… well.. hard. Surprise surprise they have no idea what its about – hell American kids don’t know what its about.
I did, however, get 7 of my 12 hour weekly schedule set, which was nice to know. And made good acquaintance with another teacher named Karin.
Friday and Saturday my friend Jessica from Marburg came to visit and we shopped a bit and saw the city. For the most part though we exchanged Fulbright stories of frustration and success. And we ate some much needed good food. After she left this afternoon, I came home and reheated some Indian food for super. Yay for the hot plate – oh what I’d give for a microwave.
Falling down the Rabit Hole...
Nearly every day that I am here I have the distinct sense that I am Alice. Somewhere along the way I slipped, tripped, or took a wrong turn and now much to my dismay I have fallen down the rabbit hole into a surreal world where nothing but sheer madness is rushing on around me. Though my wonderland lacks Cheshire cats and Queens of hearts, every day is like waking up in a circus.
The most commonly found and most troublesome rabbit holes are those at the various U-Bahn (subway) stops. They are multi-layer underground labyrinths of sounds, smells, and utter pandemonium. Aside from nauseating smell of rubber, fuel, and thousands of people too close together; the U-Bahn stations are dreary mind numbing mazes of escalators, platforms, shops, street performers, and baby carnages. Making matters worse, though, is the way in which each of the many sections of the stations connect. From what I understand each of these large stations is a designed like a series of spiders stacks on top of each other – one central body with many bending legs of hallways, exits, and platforms, growing our from all sides. So often I read a sign (if I can see it) go down a level come, back up an emerge in whole new word. Heartache is one of the largest stops in the city and the one through which I have to travel to get anywhere. Not only does ever U-Bahn in the city go through, but every S-Bahn does as well. Thus creating three layers of absolute madness, one layer for U-Bhans, one for S-Bahns, and one for the seedy underground labyrinth of shops and venders. Each of these levels and the street above are connected by a countless number of escalators and staircases. The problem is, however, none of them take you where you expect to go. Just when I think I have things figured out, I try a new exit to the street and wind up in a part of the it I’ve never seen. Some platforms have two exits to the upper level, but only one entrance down to them. Stairwells and escalators are randomly scattered across the platforms with absolutely no rhyme or reason to their placement. So often I have descended to platform labeled with the train I need, only to discover I am on the platform going the wrong direction. So I head back up the stairs walk several hundred yards in a direction that seems it would lead me to the opposite platform, and run down the stairs only to discover I have ended up exactly where I started. In the most heavily trafficked area of the station there are 3 platforms and six tracks. It is still an utter mystery how one gets to the middle platform. I pray daily that I will never need a train leaving from there because I think I will simply have to jump the tracks from below, because I am convinced there is no stairwell leading to it.
Many harrowing rabbit holes of the public transpiration system, the city its self if is full of them as well. One moment I am walking a long, enjoying a the present sunny day on a crowded but relatively normal city street, and then I turn a corner or enter a shop and I’ve landed in a dream world. Every single day Zeil (the main downtown shipping street of Frankfurt) explodes with new venders, stalls, performers, baggers, evangelists, salespeople. Given this, I am convinced that I have taken up residence in a circus. Today I went to the city to buy some shoes and was greeted with several men on stilts one of whom was riding a bike and showing as part of a promotional display for the city transpiration system. I then found that some sort of transient market had set itself up in the middle of the streets, making the fussgangerzone nearly impassible. Men with Turkish accent yelled fruit prices from stands, Gypsies played music in the streets, and angry crazy Germans whished by on bicycles. Sometimes its all just too much and I have to sit down and just watch it all go by for a while. It is no wonder the Germans find absolutely necessary to vacation at beaches, in the forests, and on mountains – if they didn’t the visual, olfactory, and auditory stimulation of their daily lives would push them into madness.
I do not know why people choose to live like this. Give me the corn fields and cow shit aroma of Nebraska any day, instead of this madness.
The most commonly found and most troublesome rabbit holes are those at the various U-Bahn (subway) stops. They are multi-layer underground labyrinths of sounds, smells, and utter pandemonium. Aside from nauseating smell of rubber, fuel, and thousands of people too close together; the U-Bahn stations are dreary mind numbing mazes of escalators, platforms, shops, street performers, and baby carnages. Making matters worse, though, is the way in which each of the many sections of the stations connect. From what I understand each of these large stations is a designed like a series of spiders stacks on top of each other – one central body with many bending legs of hallways, exits, and platforms, growing our from all sides. So often I read a sign (if I can see it) go down a level come, back up an emerge in whole new word. Heartache is one of the largest stops in the city and the one through which I have to travel to get anywhere. Not only does ever U-Bahn in the city go through, but every S-Bahn does as well. Thus creating three layers of absolute madness, one layer for U-Bhans, one for S-Bahns, and one for the seedy underground labyrinth of shops and venders. Each of these levels and the street above are connected by a countless number of escalators and staircases. The problem is, however, none of them take you where you expect to go. Just when I think I have things figured out, I try a new exit to the street and wind up in a part of the it I’ve never seen. Some platforms have two exits to the upper level, but only one entrance down to them. Stairwells and escalators are randomly scattered across the platforms with absolutely no rhyme or reason to their placement. So often I have descended to platform labeled with the train I need, only to discover I am on the platform going the wrong direction. So I head back up the stairs walk several hundred yards in a direction that seems it would lead me to the opposite platform, and run down the stairs only to discover I have ended up exactly where I started. In the most heavily trafficked area of the station there are 3 platforms and six tracks. It is still an utter mystery how one gets to the middle platform. I pray daily that I will never need a train leaving from there because I think I will simply have to jump the tracks from below, because I am convinced there is no stairwell leading to it.
Many harrowing rabbit holes of the public transpiration system, the city its self if is full of them as well. One moment I am walking a long, enjoying a the present sunny day on a crowded but relatively normal city street, and then I turn a corner or enter a shop and I’ve landed in a dream world. Every single day Zeil (the main downtown shipping street of Frankfurt) explodes with new venders, stalls, performers, baggers, evangelists, salespeople. Given this, I am convinced that I have taken up residence in a circus. Today I went to the city to buy some shoes and was greeted with several men on stilts one of whom was riding a bike and showing as part of a promotional display for the city transpiration system. I then found that some sort of transient market had set itself up in the middle of the streets, making the fussgangerzone nearly impassible. Men with Turkish accent yelled fruit prices from stands, Gypsies played music in the streets, and angry crazy Germans whished by on bicycles. Sometimes its all just too much and I have to sit down and just watch it all go by for a while. It is no wonder the Germans find absolutely necessary to vacation at beaches, in the forests, and on mountains – if they didn’t the visual, olfactory, and auditory stimulation of their daily lives would push them into madness.
I do not know why people choose to live like this. Give me the corn fields and cow shit aroma of Nebraska any day, instead of this madness.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed...
It would seem I'm not particularly good at keeping up on this thing, but this does not suprise anyone, I'm sure.
The last week has been simultainiusly both unbelievably busy and creepingly slow.
Last Saturday I had planned to join one of the teachers at my school, Antje, and her family at the market, but I woke up at noon. And it would seem though she said call any time, she really meant anytime before 9. Dissipoited in myself for being so lazy I proceeded to mope about wallowing in self-pitty and dwelling on my lack of friends. I finially convinced myself I should probably go to the grocery store so that I could eat something more than grapes and gummy bears. I can not express the energy it seemed to take to put on shoes and a coat and walk the 15 minuite walk to the grocery store. However, by the time I made it I was feeling better and had decided not only was I going to buy food but pehraps even cook it!
Afer a lengthy selection process of my purchases, I waited anxiously in line to pay. Now, you may wonder why anxiously. In germany paying for something is almost always a stress inducing activity especially at the grocery store. When paying it is necesary to first unload your purchases onto the conveyer belt, then emediately begin bagging them as they are scanned, and simultainiously be ready to pay - and you surebetter have correct change. It may actually be illieagl for grocery store clirks to smile. They simply never do. They bark your total at yu and then when you hand them a 20 for an 11:50 purchase they ask if you have smaller bills. No, of course I don't, if I did I would have given them to you! Finially, you sure better be done bagging your stuff before the next persons' items are scanned, because if not, they just get slid along into yours and the next customer scowls at you. All of this happens at an incredible break neck speed. Sometimes I feel compelled to strech or warm up before lining up to pay, just to be sure to be ready. People think Germans stay skinny from walking so much, but really its because they have to condition to pay for things!
Given this, you can imagine the horror and fear I felt whe, while preparing to pay, I discovered to my horror I had managed to leave my wallet at home. There I was - everything rung up and a line forming behind me and absolutely no menas to pay. In America, while this would be of course embarassing, you would smile and laugh sheepishly and explain the situation to the clirk. He or she would thenlikely laugh with you and say to go retrieve your money and they'd keep you things behind the counter for you. Not so in Germany. In addion to be mortifyingly embarassed, I have now committed a major ofense against the store clirk. Who scowls deeply and say. "ok-go!" I mutter something about coming back and esentally run from the store trying not cry. By the time I reached th parking lot I was deffinately in teers (a fairly common state for me - I'm a cryer, what can I say).
I waked the longest walk of my life home, to retirieve my wallet only to meet my crazy land lord and have her tell me I should lock the door when i leave (which I'm pretty sure I do) and then ask why I was back so soon. I was then forced to explain the horrible situation to which she replies "Remember when you did that when I took you shopping?' (I had also forgotten my wallet on the first day I arived when she took me to the store and I had to pay her bck). My favorite asspect of my landlord is that she repeats everything at least three times. "Remmeber? Remember when you forgot it? do you remember?!!" "Yes, yes, ok I remember what an ass I amde of myself, thank you." In explaining things to her, I did not know the owrd for wallet, which then led to a 15 minuite discussion on what the word was in w hich I had to write wallet down for her and she had to look it up. When she couldn't find it, I showed her my wallet and said what is thi called. Finially she got it, and found it necessary to repeat the name 3 tiems louder and louder. At this point I didn't care any more. And she kept asking "Do you understand?" "Yes I understand, or I wouldn't keep saying yes!" Her oppeating plan in interactions with me seems to be repeat, repeat, repeat - lounder if necessary - because the american girl is an idiot. She also really enjoys correcting my shitty german at very inappropriate junctiers in the conversation. Oh Mann! this woman!
Afer my wallet and door locking lecture I returned to the store with my tail between my legs, where when I asked the cilrk where my stuff was, I recieved a grunt and a point for an answer.
When i returned home a second time, my land lord said again "lock the door when you leave. Do you understand?" I said yes, then read the note she had writen about Antje (the teacher calling) on which she had also writen I should lock the door. Geminey chirstmas lady, How do you imagine I even have enough intelligence to function on a daily basis.
Glad, however, that Antje had called, I ran upstairs to return her call. She invited me over for super and said "bring your toothbrush in case we drink too much wine." (perhaps a new supply for English Wine Night when I get back). I listend soooo carefully to her directions and wrote them down, so as not to get lost on the way there.
I sucessfully made it to my first subway stop where I needed to change trains and even then found the propper street train. Lucky me, however, I chose the car with the several loud, scantly clad, 14-yearolds who thought it might be nice for everyone to enjoy the teenybop music loudly played thorugh their cell phone speakers. Aside from being fascinating creatures to observe and ultmately annoying, their music and sould gabbing made it impossible to hear the train stop announcements. At one stop at which I couldn't here the stop name, I thought "hunh maybe this is it, I should ask. Nah, its too soon" And yep, as one might expecct, that was the stop I needed. I twasn't until 20 min. later that I found the courage to ask someone if I had missed the stop. His laugh an d "oh yeah!" where not reassuring. So there i was, now in a competly different town, standing on a train platform, an hour late for dinner, with no phone, and wondering where the hell I was.
Luckly I found the coougage to ask a very stressd out buisness man if I could barrow his cell phone to call Antje and he ablidged. (Not a small thing given the incredible expense of phone calls of any kind in Germany). Between the two of them, Antje and buisness man, they figurd out where I was and where I needed to be. 20 min later I was able to meet Antje's husband at the train station, ashamed at my stupidity and propencity for getting lost but glad to be found.
Antje reheated dinner for me and I talked with her and her husband and their 4 and 1/2 year old son. God bless them are these good people! They talked to me the whole evening in German and listened to me stammer through and butcher the language without ever giving up on me and speaking English. I soo appreicate it when people allow me to butcher the langauge to them and don't get frustrated. I know how doumb I must sound, but if I don't speak it I will never learn it and will never get better.
I did indeed spend the night (not from too much wine though, they simply insisited) and then spent the next morning speaking german with them and playing with Finnion (their son) who has Downs Syndrome.He is absolutely adorable and soo much fun to play with. He's nonverble and I'm esentally nonverble in german, so we get along great. We just look at eachother and play and make noises! It would seem my german soul mate is a 4 year old.
So at days end, I supose I could say it finally payed to wake up, but it was deffinatly touch and go for a while.
The last week has been simultainiusly both unbelievably busy and creepingly slow.
Last Saturday I had planned to join one of the teachers at my school, Antje, and her family at the market, but I woke up at noon. And it would seem though she said call any time, she really meant anytime before 9. Dissipoited in myself for being so lazy I proceeded to mope about wallowing in self-pitty and dwelling on my lack of friends. I finially convinced myself I should probably go to the grocery store so that I could eat something more than grapes and gummy bears. I can not express the energy it seemed to take to put on shoes and a coat and walk the 15 minuite walk to the grocery store. However, by the time I made it I was feeling better and had decided not only was I going to buy food but pehraps even cook it!
Afer a lengthy selection process of my purchases, I waited anxiously in line to pay. Now, you may wonder why anxiously. In germany paying for something is almost always a stress inducing activity especially at the grocery store. When paying it is necesary to first unload your purchases onto the conveyer belt, then emediately begin bagging them as they are scanned, and simultainiously be ready to pay - and you surebetter have correct change. It may actually be illieagl for grocery store clirks to smile. They simply never do. They bark your total at yu and then when you hand them a 20 for an 11:50 purchase they ask if you have smaller bills. No, of course I don't, if I did I would have given them to you! Finially, you sure better be done bagging your stuff before the next persons' items are scanned, because if not, they just get slid along into yours and the next customer scowls at you. All of this happens at an incredible break neck speed. Sometimes I feel compelled to strech or warm up before lining up to pay, just to be sure to be ready. People think Germans stay skinny from walking so much, but really its because they have to condition to pay for things!
Given this, you can imagine the horror and fear I felt whe, while preparing to pay, I discovered to my horror I had managed to leave my wallet at home. There I was - everything rung up and a line forming behind me and absolutely no menas to pay. In America, while this would be of course embarassing, you would smile and laugh sheepishly and explain the situation to the clirk. He or she would thenlikely laugh with you and say to go retrieve your money and they'd keep you things behind the counter for you. Not so in Germany. In addion to be mortifyingly embarassed, I have now committed a major ofense against the store clirk. Who scowls deeply and say. "ok-go!" I mutter something about coming back and esentally run from the store trying not cry. By the time I reached th parking lot I was deffinately in teers (a fairly common state for me - I'm a cryer, what can I say).
I waked the longest walk of my life home, to retirieve my wallet only to meet my crazy land lord and have her tell me I should lock the door when i leave (which I'm pretty sure I do) and then ask why I was back so soon. I was then forced to explain the horrible situation to which she replies "Remember when you did that when I took you shopping?' (I had also forgotten my wallet on the first day I arived when she took me to the store and I had to pay her bck). My favorite asspect of my landlord is that she repeats everything at least three times. "Remmeber? Remember when you forgot it? do you remember?!!" "Yes, yes, ok I remember what an ass I amde of myself, thank you." In explaining things to her, I did not know the owrd for wallet, which then led to a 15 minuite discussion on what the word was in w hich I had to write wallet down for her and she had to look it up. When she couldn't find it, I showed her my wallet and said what is thi called. Finially she got it, and found it necessary to repeat the name 3 tiems louder and louder. At this point I didn't care any more. And she kept asking "Do you understand?" "Yes I understand, or I wouldn't keep saying yes!" Her oppeating plan in interactions with me seems to be repeat, repeat, repeat - lounder if necessary - because the american girl is an idiot. She also really enjoys correcting my shitty german at very inappropriate junctiers in the conversation. Oh Mann! this woman!
Afer my wallet and door locking lecture I returned to the store with my tail between my legs, where when I asked the cilrk where my stuff was, I recieved a grunt and a point for an answer.
When i returned home a second time, my land lord said again "lock the door when you leave. Do you understand?" I said yes, then read the note she had writen about Antje (the teacher calling) on which she had also writen I should lock the door. Geminey chirstmas lady, How do you imagine I even have enough intelligence to function on a daily basis.
Glad, however, that Antje had called, I ran upstairs to return her call. She invited me over for super and said "bring your toothbrush in case we drink too much wine." (perhaps a new supply for English Wine Night when I get back). I listend soooo carefully to her directions and wrote them down, so as not to get lost on the way there.
I sucessfully made it to my first subway stop where I needed to change trains and even then found the propper street train. Lucky me, however, I chose the car with the several loud, scantly clad, 14-yearolds who thought it might be nice for everyone to enjoy the teenybop music loudly played thorugh their cell phone speakers. Aside from being fascinating creatures to observe and ultmately annoying, their music and sould gabbing made it impossible to hear the train stop announcements. At one stop at which I couldn't here the stop name, I thought "hunh maybe this is it, I should ask. Nah, its too soon" And yep, as one might expecct, that was the stop I needed. I twasn't until 20 min. later that I found the courage to ask someone if I had missed the stop. His laugh an d "oh yeah!" where not reassuring. So there i was, now in a competly different town, standing on a train platform, an hour late for dinner, with no phone, and wondering where the hell I was.
Luckly I found the coougage to ask a very stressd out buisness man if I could barrow his cell phone to call Antje and he ablidged. (Not a small thing given the incredible expense of phone calls of any kind in Germany). Between the two of them, Antje and buisness man, they figurd out where I was and where I needed to be. 20 min later I was able to meet Antje's husband at the train station, ashamed at my stupidity and propencity for getting lost but glad to be found.
Antje reheated dinner for me and I talked with her and her husband and their 4 and 1/2 year old son. God bless them are these good people! They talked to me the whole evening in German and listened to me stammer through and butcher the language without ever giving up on me and speaking English. I soo appreicate it when people allow me to butcher the langauge to them and don't get frustrated. I know how doumb I must sound, but if I don't speak it I will never learn it and will never get better.
I did indeed spend the night (not from too much wine though, they simply insisited) and then spent the next morning speaking german with them and playing with Finnion (their son) who has Downs Syndrome.He is absolutely adorable and soo much fun to play with. He's nonverble and I'm esentally nonverble in german, so we get along great. We just look at eachother and play and make noises! It would seem my german soul mate is a 4 year old.
So at days end, I supose I could say it finally payed to wake up, but it was deffinatly touch and go for a while.
Friday, September 14, 2007
In the beginning...
Well, it would seem I've finially arived. Afte rmuch stewing and anticipating, I'm finially here in Germny (how long I will remain here is yet to be seen).
Thus far my life has been filled with attempts to aquire needed things like, housing, food, internet, and a cell phone. None of which are prroving to be easy tasks.
For the time being I am living an hour from the city center and from my school and an elderly woman's house - on her top floor. As a whole she is very nice and accomidating, but rather opinionated and seems rather intent on us keeping our bounderies. She's landlord and I'm renter. This is particularly awkward since I have to walk through her enitre house inorder to reach my room and have to then trapce through again in order to shower in the bacement. There is also a fairly strong chance she is a which doctor. As for my accomidations they're ok. The room is nicely furnished, but has no reall kitchen - just a hot plat, an easy bake oven (esentllly), and a frig. The greatest problem posed by this set up is that there is no where to do dishes. I have only a bathroom sink, so nothing an di mena nothing, will go down the drain without clogging it. This makes doing dishes difficult. there is also no where to keep food and little room to prepare it.
In addition to cooking troubles I have no internet access in the house. This is particularly importnat to me becuase when I do have access I will be able to use Skype as my phone to call back to the states, and right now to do so is cossting me a fortune. It also seems that everything that needs to be done in Germany is best done online. Registering at the Uni, registering with the city, registering with the comunity college, finding another place to live, reading importnat fulbright e-mails, the list goes on and on. So internet is a top priority.
Which brings me to a funny story about one of the many ways the germans are crazy. My first day I asked my landlord if she had a microwave. She, somewhat hottily, replied no, she didn't believe in them. (Yep she's idealogically oposed to microwaves). I assumed this was because she felt they were an artificial way of cooking and she prefered thing homemade. Oh but was I wrong... later I asked her about getting wireless internet. Not knowing what that was she called her internet guy who explained it to her. She then very proudly reported to me that there was absolutely no chance we would get wireless.. and said something about Funk and likened it to her disbelief in microwaves. I was confused. Afer finding out the meaning of Funk (waves, as in electric waves) the pieces all came together for me. she doesn't believe in either wirelless or microwaves beause she think the electric waves are bad for you and will hurt you. Mind you she has a radio, TV, and cordless phone in her house! So I wrote this off as ideosyncratic querk of an old german which doctor. Oh, but was I wrong. At school the next week I learned that there is no wireless in the school becuase there is a law in Frankfurt that wireless can not be used anywhere there's children. So it turns out a significant pernctage of the german population believes in "electrosmog" and they all think we're going to dy from all the electric waves around us. Mind you most of them still have microwaves, cordless phones, raidos and cell phones. Whether its true or not - the electrosmog buisness, I mean - we're surrounded by waves all the time, wheather or not we own the devices. Not to mention most of them SMOKE LIKE CHIMINES! WeKNOW smoking will kill you, but no lets worry about electrosmog that MIGHT kill you! Germans are so wierd!
Ok, there you have it for now, more to follow.
Thus far my life has been filled with attempts to aquire needed things like, housing, food, internet, and a cell phone. None of which are prroving to be easy tasks.
For the time being I am living an hour from the city center and from my school and an elderly woman's house - on her top floor. As a whole she is very nice and accomidating, but rather opinionated and seems rather intent on us keeping our bounderies. She's landlord and I'm renter. This is particularly awkward since I have to walk through her enitre house inorder to reach my room and have to then trapce through again in order to shower in the bacement. There is also a fairly strong chance she is a which doctor. As for my accomidations they're ok. The room is nicely furnished, but has no reall kitchen - just a hot plat, an easy bake oven (esentllly), and a frig. The greatest problem posed by this set up is that there is no where to do dishes. I have only a bathroom sink, so nothing an di mena nothing, will go down the drain without clogging it. This makes doing dishes difficult. there is also no where to keep food and little room to prepare it.
In addition to cooking troubles I have no internet access in the house. This is particularly importnat to me becuase when I do have access I will be able to use Skype as my phone to call back to the states, and right now to do so is cossting me a fortune. It also seems that everything that needs to be done in Germany is best done online. Registering at the Uni, registering with the city, registering with the comunity college, finding another place to live, reading importnat fulbright e-mails, the list goes on and on. So internet is a top priority.
Which brings me to a funny story about one of the many ways the germans are crazy. My first day I asked my landlord if she had a microwave. She, somewhat hottily, replied no, she didn't believe in them. (Yep she's idealogically oposed to microwaves). I assumed this was because she felt they were an artificial way of cooking and she prefered thing homemade. Oh but was I wrong... later I asked her about getting wireless internet. Not knowing what that was she called her internet guy who explained it to her. She then very proudly reported to me that there was absolutely no chance we would get wireless.. and said something about Funk and likened it to her disbelief in microwaves. I was confused. Afer finding out the meaning of Funk (waves, as in electric waves) the pieces all came together for me. she doesn't believe in either wirelless or microwaves beause she think the electric waves are bad for you and will hurt you. Mind you she has a radio, TV, and cordless phone in her house! So I wrote this off as ideosyncratic querk of an old german which doctor. Oh, but was I wrong. At school the next week I learned that there is no wireless in the school becuase there is a law in Frankfurt that wireless can not be used anywhere there's children. So it turns out a significant pernctage of the german population believes in "electrosmog" and they all think we're going to dy from all the electric waves around us. Mind you most of them still have microwaves, cordless phones, raidos and cell phones. Whether its true or not - the electrosmog buisness, I mean - we're surrounded by waves all the time, wheather or not we own the devices. Not to mention most of them SMOKE LIKE CHIMINES! WeKNOW smoking will kill you, but no lets worry about electrosmog that MIGHT kill you! Germans are so wierd!
Ok, there you have it for now, more to follow.
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