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.
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