Schon die dritte Woche vorbei?!?

<---- (Heidelberg from the Schloss)
I am finding it difficult to believe how quickly the time is passing. At this point I have settled into a daily routine. I wake up around 7am, have toast for breakfast, rush out the door late as usual, run down four flights of stairs to the bike room, bike to Neuenheim, take notes in class until noon (coffee), sit in a cafe (more coffee) or a library (usually the Slavistik library, the quietest one on campus) to study and read some Deutsch, bike home, go food shopping at one of the THREE supermarkets within walking distance, make dinner, chiiiiiiiiill, and eventually go to sleep. Busy and yet relaxed, exactly how summer should be.

Since that is the general plan most weekdays, I will mention only the highlights from this incredibly fun past week and weekend... And I would LOVE some highlights from home if you have a chance to write! No pressure though :-)

Oooooooh KANADA

Around 4:30 in the afternoon Robert and I walked through the rainy Hauptstrasse after classes. When we passed a tourist shop (there are maaaaaany), he asked me, “Canada feels like a sort of home, right?” I replied a bit baffled by his question, “of course!” I had no idea why Robert insisted that we buy a Canadian flag, but 5 Euros later I had a maple leaf flag tied around my shoulders, long enough to touch the floor. A couple of hours later, we got on a train from Rohrbach. My only hint was that we would see someone I knew on the way. This person turned out to be his younger brother Tommy, who saved seats for us. We were not going in the direction of Karlsruhe, rather the opposite, towards Mannheim. Tommy and his friends, dressed in various basketball jerseys, gave away the surprise. But the real surprise came when I asked Robert, “But why did we go through all that trouble to get a Canadian flag?” He himself was wearing a German flag tied on as a cape. The answer was simple: Canada was playing Germany in the Olympic trials in the SAP Stadium in Mannheim, 30 minutes from Heidelberg. Star player for the Germans – Dirk Nowitzki, a pretty damn huge person and a really fun player to watch. Star player for the Canadians – apparently the only NBA player on the team was sitting out for this game, and beyond that there were no French names (why would anyone in Quebec play pro-basketball?). I still happily routed for them, sang the parts of the anthem that I knew, and had some great beer and Bratwurst at half-time. Unfortunately I tripped over a row of seats at one point - I came away with a big bruise on my leg but managed to save my ketchup-filled Bratwurst. Very German, Robert remarked.

the perfect lunch

This is the market in Neuenheim that happens every Wednesday. The Paedagogium is just about the only building, let alone educational institution, that I know of where they openly encourage smoking. I desperately needed fresh air during the mid-morning pause. I walked a few blocks towards the Neckar and had time to walk around in this incredible fruit market. There were some fruits and vegetables I have never seen before. I bought a few things, including a little something for Miss Morgan which I’ll send asap, and this perfect lunch: sun-kissed tomatoes, fresh ham, mild cheese and Brotchen.

sushi and Sekt

Isilay is one of my classmates from Ismir in Turkey. We celebrated her 22^nd birthday on Tuesday with an afternoon picnic on the Neckarwiese with my entire class. We all brought a little something to contribute – I brought fruit but Mika and Miki (both from Japan, apparently that’s a popular name) brought homemade rice-cakes with tuna and a homemade chocolate cake! It was a really fun afternoon, lots of pictures and playing in an incredibly intricate water-playground with Miki’s young Japanese-German daughter. The Sekt - sparkling wine - in the sun made it even better.

Was fur ein Fass! -- Der Heidelberger Schloss

On Wednesday afternoon I went with five classmates to the large castle that has some of the best views of the city. We were toured around by a slow-speaking (very important) German man who told us stories of the history since it was built in 1147. The pictures just about say it all. Two particular highlights for me: seeing one large group of Chinese tourists taking photographs near our group, and seeing the largest keg in the world (I think… it must be!), which holds 127,000 liters of wine. HUGE! Unfortunately, it was so big that they could not keep oxygen from leaking in, so it was only filled three times since the wine would spoil by the time the keg (Fass) reached full capacity.

Heidees: frisbee in deutschland

No pictures, but I’ve been to a few practices and am really excited to have so welcoming a team to play with for the summer. They had just returned from the German-nationals tournament a couple of weekends ago, so the first practice was more informal than the later ones. Lots of running...we generally start each practice with sprints. The field is perfect and well-cared for in a Sport center in Eppelheim, about 15 minutes away by car; we meet at the train station and they drive me to the field from there. We play until dark and usually have amazing sunsets during our scrimmages. I love the exhaustion that comes from a couple hours of hard running, so twice a week I really appreciate the quiet, slow bike-ride home. And, not to worry, I’ve recently purchased a bike-light to make my rides in the dark a bit less dangerous.

Babysitting!

For an entire afternoon, I joined Robert at his babysitting job. There is nothing that I find more adorable than small children speaking German, and these three girls were no exception. Felina is six, Jule is 4, and then the smallest, Amelie, is 3. I was astonished at how quickly they warmed to me. Amelie and I played dolls for a couple of hours and then joined the others for a puzzle. Robert then read aloud to us from a children’s chapter book. I must admit, I did not quite understand what was happening in the plot… it was really great to have small friends to help me with my German grammar throughout the day.

More

- Saturday’s “Schloss Beleutung” and fireworks on the Neckar

- A long walk around Rohrbach last Sunday, realizing that I don’t have to go downtown to find a nice café or a decent Doner

- Robert and friends finally finishing their exams, which we celebrated with Sekt and chocolate in the courtyard outside of the history classrooms

- A really great concert tonight at the University – some Dvorak, some more modern pieces from a composer called Herrmann, and finally some Gershwin

GUCK MAL -------->

Translation: Check it out! ---------------->

I would like to thank the many u-tube tutorials out there for helping me figure out how this slide show function works. I could not have done it without your help. I spent waaaaaaaay too long doing this, but hopefully it’ll give you all a nice sense of my surroundings here in Heidelberg. I remember Joe Swayze (happily retired Nobles photography teacher) saying never to shoot our photo assignments on our way to school. Alas, that is exactly what I did.

Some of the photos are a bit on the fuzzy side, and some are even aimed towards the ground. But I wanted to leave them in for “authenticity” – it must have been an interesting sight watching me bike one-handed and taking pictures with the other... The hardest part was breaking one-handed at stop lights (don't worry, Mom - all is well that ends well and I won't do it again). Also I pretended that I knew no German when I received bad looks from other bikers around me. They had every right to scold (cultural insensitivity on my part?) but I do feel quite proud of my accomplishment. AND, what’s more, I was only ten minutes late to class today! Perhaps Deutschland will turn me into a punctual person after all....

My day went as follows: After a good (beautiful and sunny as you can see in the photos) day of classes, an afternoon of reading Stefan Zweig (with dictionary) in the Marsteilhof, a cafeteria by the University known for being the ONLY cheap place to eat in Heidelberg, a great dinner here in the apartment, a long, sweaty frisbee practice with the Heidees in Eppelheim, and finally a quiet late-evening bike ride home, I am just about kaputt.

--------------------

The caption that I would recite to all of you while excitedly showing you the slideshow:

Die Pendelzeit

Start: Rohrbach

Finish: Heidelberger Paedagogium, Neuenheim

During my rides into town I encounter the following...

... occasionally, I see an American soldier commuting to "work" (at the barracks? training?) in full uniform, riding a tiny blue bicycle.

... two kindergartens with miniature kindergarten commuters!

... for some reason, there is a high instance of tombstone manufacturers along the way. If any unfortunate mishaps occur here in Heidelberg, I can refer you to two particularly nice headstone makers.

... while the road-rage here seems minimal, I do encounter quite a bit of bike-rage. Luckily, there are traffic lights specifically for bikers, so the cars do not bother us and we do not bother them. The other bikers on the other hand... at least I am equipped with a chirping bell to express my aggression when I need to.

… an interesting encounter: rising gas prices. It’s too small to see, but the diesel at the Freie Tankstelle is 1,44.9 Euros per liter and the super is 1,48.9 Euros per liter; at the shell the diesel is 1,45 and the super is 1,50. Hmmmmm, that makes our gas look rather cheap…I am definitely glad to be biking.

... some charming obstacles, including a large construction site. AND, the infamous charming little playground where "they" (any adult around regardless of whether they live there or not) yell at you if you do not get off and walk your bike. On a bike you are a menacing danger to the children playing in the sandbox at 8am in the morning (there aren't ever any, trust me).

... and of course, beautiful scenery, houses, and new details to notice everyday. Crossing the bridge into Neuenheim and seeing the Schloss (castle) and the river is a particular highlight.

der Klaus, Angela and the land of SCHOOLSUPPLIES

One of my big unknowns coming to Germany for the summer was my classes. I knew next to nothing about the Heidelberger Pädagogium beyond how to register. I knew from the website (there was an English translation, thank goodness) that it was quite simply a language school and nothing else, and it offered courses year round in a bunch of different languages. I signed up for the “Intensive Summer German” series. That basically means you can begin attending when you want and stop attending when you want, but while you’re there you’re committed to be in class from 8:50 till 12:15 noon each day. The school is surprisingly inexpensive to attend and also surprisingly well-established; the people who work there have been working for years.

Although not near the University, the location is perfect. Robert initially assumed that it was in Neuenheimer Feld, which is where all the fancy, rather cold, and overly air-conditioned (according to Anna) science buildings are from the University of Heidelberg. LUCKILY, he was wrong – the address on the website led us to the “Stadtteil” (or district, sort of) of Neuenheim, a few blocks away from where I lived last year. This is a rather wealthy and beautiful residential part of town, just on the other side of the Neckar (the big river that flows through Heidelberg). Since it is a fifteen minute walk from the altstadt, there are much fewer tourists, making me feel the slightest bit more attached to my surroundings.

The disadvantage is that there are bakeries and patisseries on just about every corner! The two Euro croissants before class each day (not that I’m ever there early enough to have time) are making it reaaaaaally hard to stay within my budget… AND, oh my goodness, SCHOOLSUPPLIES. People say many things about Germany, but what is all too infrequently mentioned is that Germany is, among other things, the land of UNBELIEVABLE SCHOOL SUPPLIES. Morgan, you would go insane here for all of the incredibly useless and yet so amazing array of every color pen of every width tip. I myself went today looking for index cards, thinking this would be an easy task. I went into one store on the corner of a beautiful marketplace and found, to my pleasant astonishment, index cards of all sizes and all colors, stacked neatly in its very own section of the little shop. I settled for tiny (4x6 cm) yellow index cards to write new vocabulary on. MORGAN, where were you to enjoy this moment with me?!? You would certainly love it here…

Neuenheim is almost as lovely as Der Klaus. I am very sad to say that he was only my teacher for one week. After a placement test I was placed in “Sachsen”, an advanced-intermediate class. To my dismay the classroom #48 is on the 5^th floor, meaning lots of steps in between coffee breaks and blistering heat in the noon-time sun. However, great people, and good conversation. The language classes here are so different from at school: we read Goethe, and they expect us to know all the vocab the first time we see it, a sort of “well, we assigned it to you, so you should know it” attitude. There’s just not enough time to internalize the language. Sure, we can read Zweig and we can try our best to write an essay about it, but when it comes to trying not to make a fool out of myself while trying to get a cell phone plan I am pretty much lost. That is what this class is about – discussing vocab, reviewing old grammar (as opposed to learning new grammar), and talking about so-called “German culture”.

My classmates are Merve (Turkey), Ishalai (Turkey), Mika (Japan), Lura (Ukraine), and Li-An (Taiwan). The best part is that they all have such different backgrounds; talking about cultural differences in each place dominates each conversation. One main question is population size – everybody seems to compare cities based on amount of people who live there. It makes a lot of sense, I guess, and I’ve found myself doing the same. Der Klaus asked me often to describe Boston and various preconceptions he has of Americans in general. I’ve found his preconceptions really fun – for instance, we talked about riding bicycles, and he jokingly said that if you’d plant a German in a city, like New York for instance, they’d try to bike all winter even at rush hour. I replied that I knew German graduate students that do exactly that in Chicago. He has a lot of ideas about the US but does not want to visit. He has no interest, since as he said everything in between Boston and San Francisco is overflowing with evangelicals. What did he call it? Bush-country. It’s often difficult to make sure that we don’t speak any English during class. It is THE default when people cannot understand German explanations of a vocab word, let’s say. So then Klaus says it in English and everybody, the Turkish girls and the Japanese and the Taiwanese know exactly what he’s talking about. It’s like a teaching helper for other languages. And yet our course isn’t based off of English, like my courses in Chicago were. No two translation dictionaries are alike in our class.

New teacher today: Angela Retzlaff. The great thing about der Klaus was that he spoke in a naturally slow and even tone, so that we could understand most of what he said. Angela, on the other hand, expressly tries to speak slower so that we can understand. The difference is that with Klaus I didn’t feel like the foreigner; with Angela I feel a bit condescended to. This was only day one. Now I have many index cards to fill out and much vocab to go over… too much detail in these last entries?? Alas, I apologize.

die zweite Wochenende: Durlach und Staffort

(Applaus! the end of Irma La Douce, Saturday July 5th)

I sat on my hands while waiting for the show to begin, concentrating on staying still. Nope, too nervous! Anna, can I switch seats with you? Maybe I can see from there better. No? Okay, well then Edoardo, can I switch seats with you?... Robert and I had left Heidelberg at around 5 to catch the early evening train. We were picked up at the train station by his mother who was a bit exhausted from a long week of work. She had laid out some ripe cherries in two bowls on the coffee table in her apartment – one with a paper saying Robert and one saying Melissa (so sweet!) in preparation for our arrival. We ate quickly and left for the converted barn-theater in Staffort. Robert was surely more nervous than I was. The stage was made to look like a brothel on one side and a Parisian café and bar on the other. No details were overlooked. Two strings of furry heart-shaped lights were hung on a purple velvet background, one in the shape of a heart and the other in lips. Tacky and brilliantly colored, the stage made for an incredibly fun and warm atmosphere. I could hear impressed comments from other audience members before the show began. The bathrooms were a favorite - you needed to go through the door of 'la grotte rouge' on the other side of the stage to get to them and the only light inside was a dim red. Two women were still inside when the show began, so they had to stop, wait for the two women (they received a loud applause) and then resume action.

Ten or so friends came that I knew from Heidelberg including Anna, Nina, and our good friend Edoardo. Next to Robert’s impeccable clowning and great facial expressions, “Moustache” was perhaps my favorite character. He was the all-knowing trusty bartender played by Eddie, a middle-aged man with a friendly face and a long mustache. His lines had the driest humor of the show. After the “Pause” (or intermission, as we say) he walked to the front of the audience with two champagne glasses of Sekt. The show could not resume until someone purchases the last two glasses, he said slowly, capturing attention. He walked around and of course Edoardo, sitting near the front, signaled loudly with his hand – ich, oh ich! Then Eddie looks at him and says (still to the entire audience) super, the show can go on. That’ll be 2 euros please. Edoardo, confused (his German is as good as mine), says, but I have no money. Ich habe kein Geld – I’m sorry, I’m Italian! Oh Edoardo… Eddie said ‘Schade’ and moved on to someone else.

The next evening Eddie brought a CD of French music to listen to as the cast prepped for the second show. I was waiting around and reading and jumped up as soon as the first song began – of course, French music meant Patricia Kaas, one of my favorites. Jacques Brel next – Eddie came over to me and together we sang Ne Me Quietes Pas to a room of empty seats. A little Satchmo followed along with one of Robert’s favorite singers, Frederick Mae.

I wish I could describe all of the highlights from both shows. I was incredibly nervous for the first one though I had no reason to be. The audience surprised me with their energy, and the actors, too. There were many congratulations; I myself was asked so many times for my opinion that I needed to ask Robert for synonyms for good and wonderful so that I did not keep repeating myself. Wunderbar! Echt klasse! Absolut super! Es war Scheisseklasse! (it was hot shit!) Robert and I stayed late to have pizza with the cast and join in with the warm feelings of gratification and exhaustion. The second night featured a tougher audience; the laughing was definitely got a late start although they ruptured in laughter at Robert’s I-heart-Mum boxers, particularly Katrin, his mother, who was sitting on my right. Another great reception afterwards. The director, Uli (which I learned is short for Ulrika, an interesting name) said that I should come back for their next play in the spring of 2010. I said that my German is surely not good enough for theater and she said that it absolutely was and it wouldn’t matter anyways and that she’d make a real actress out of me. With a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek that left a lipstick print, I could really appreciate spending time with this cast even just for a few rehearsals.

Since Robert and I spent most of the day walking around in Durlach, I made plans to return early to Heidelberg before the third show. That way I can prepare for the week ahead. The show – reading the script, watching it, speaking to people before and after – was a thousand times more helpful than any German class, and left me with many new vocab words to digest. Hopefully all went well tonight!

Happy 4th!

Robert and I are eating a pasta lunch after a day of classes and theater prep. We are heading to the train station to go to Durlach in a few minutes. I hope that you all have great barbeques, perhaps fireworks (maybe even in Montreal?!?), and a great fourth of july! Kind of a strange thought that I'll be out of the country for two fourth of july's in a row.

SCHLAAAAAAAND

Sunday even with the play practice definitely had a main theme: FUSSBALL. We planned where we would watch the game the night before. There was a nationalistic fervor surrounding the Europameisterschaft like I had never expected: flags everywhere, hanging off cars, larger ones off of balconies, people with red black and yellow on their faces, people wearing soccer jerseys just about everywhere. Interestingly enough, flags did not always mean “Go Germany” as much as “Go soccer!” There was a sort of unity of soccer fans that went beyond German nationalism. Some balconies had Turkish flags left over from their awesome, unbelievable 2-3 loss last week.

The radio discussed soccer news all weekend long – the headline in the Durlach paper: “Wird Ballack Spielen?” Will Ballack lead his team to victory even with his injuries? According to the papers he had some sort of torn muscle. And if Ballack doesn’t play, then is there any way that Germany can beat Spain? Robert’s mother seemed to think that the controversy was only a strategy to mess with the Spanish team. Of course, come game time he was there in what looked like good shape.

Nina and Robert bought me a Wilkommen-gift: a Deutschland jersey! Wearing our festive gear we went about four hours early to the courtyard behind a restaurant in Durlach. There were many picnic tables set up and a big TV screen at one end. Apparently, even four hours early was not early enough – the place was packed. We found a few seats right next to the bar, not a bad place to be. A bit far from the screen (hard to see since it was still bright out) but good drink access. Unfortunately people lined up for drinks and refills throughout the game, so we occasionally had to stand to see over them or gently signal to them to MOVE if there was an exciting play going on. Lamb (Robert’s favorite player, had a great goal against Turkey) and Schweiny (“Schweinsteiger”, although Schweiny is funny because it’s “porky” in English) – little by little I learned the names of the German players. Konny, Dücki and Anne-Kathrine, friends of Robert’s from Karlsruhe, joined us a couple of hours later. Anne-Kathrine (“AK”) brought boxers to sew the Mum-heart while the game was going on since she was there more for the beer and company than the soccer. Dücki brought make-up with her which we shared with the bartenders (a Spain fan! Or rather, someone who wanted to cheer for the team that would surely win). Robert was a bit upset that I drew a heart on his face but I was rather proud of my artistic skills. A deliciously filling Currywürst with fries (see picture) and a few beers later, and Enrique Iglesias finished with his pre-show entertainment. This meant only one thing: GAMETIME.

Hopefully you all know what happened next since you all watched the final. I know that Ronny did over in LA, as indicated by his very curt, short email the following day:

Spain: 1

Germany: 0

Thanks Ronny :-)

The general opinion as we got on the train to go home was that Germany did not deserve the win. There was simply no denying that Spain played better. Robert and I had the misfortune of riding home with sixty or so unbearably drunk high-schoolers. They sang soccer-songs that made absolutely no sense over and over, the same ones, screaming. One kid next to me was smoking (on a train!) and another was banging so hard on one of the walls that a florescent light fell down. Of course, he felt that it was his duty to then stomp on it so that glass chards covered the floor. Meanwhile Robert and I were struggling to balance a bike (!) that I am borrowing for the summer from his mother – a WONDERFUL bike which I have come to love dearly even though our relationship is hardly a week old. But seriously, this night gave a slight justification to a well-enforced drinking age. Between the balancing act and the jet-lag and the obnoxious drunk people, I was unbelievably thankful to be back in quiet Rohrbach.

That next morning: right to class. Needless to say, I was a bit overwhelmed at the thought of starting something new after such a hectic but really great weekend. Many pictures to add later. Luckily, alles hat geklappt.

Irma La Douce

On Sunday I woke up from a good 12 hours of sleep (on top of the six from the day before) completely refreshed and ready to try being social again. Trying to speak with Robert’s friends the night before left me feeling awkward at moments. But let’s face it, it’s funny to hear people mess up when trying to speak a new language. I seem to mix up words that sound really alike to me, even if they mean completely different things. For example, Robert said he was bringing my bags to the basement (der Keller); I thought he said Kellner, which means waiter, like in a restaurant. After a bit of explaining it made sense. If you ask me to tell you what a ‘court of law’ is in German I will go through ten different words before getting there: Dichter (poet) to Gesicht (face) to Geschichte (history/ story) to Gericht (dish) to Gesezt (law) back to Gericht (which incidentally also means court).

Katrin, Robert’s mother, prepared us all a wonderful, very German breakfast. I missed these so much while back in the States. On the table there were a few different homemade marmalades, fresh bread, butter with herbs and without, about three different salamis and hams (I can’t tell the difference), the strawberries with Schnapps from the fest the day before (a strong kick for the morning), and of course strong coffee (the second kick of the morning). My Italian friends from the Heidelberg Ferienkurs from last summer say that German coffee barely deserves to call itself coffee; it pales in comparison to ‘real Italian espresso’. After a year of massively tall cups of light coffee from the C-shop (Chicago) unlike those Italians I welcomed the small cup of dark coffee. I must confess that I have drunken on average about two cups a day since I got here. At first I was “combating jet-lag” but I’m starting to get used to an afternoon coffee after my language courses.

But now onto Irma…Robert asked me if I wanted to accompany him at his ‘Theaterprobe”, or play-practice, and I gladly accepted. His play is actually opening tonight; he’s had a hectic week of practices and dress rehearsals. We left right after breakfast and drove to a town fifteen minutes away. The place they’re doing the play is in a large barn-converted gym sort of building with a stage and kitchen on one end. The play is called ‘Irma la Douce’, a French comedy about an awkward, very uptight policeman (Nestor Patou) who falls in love with a prostitute (Irma La Douce). He loses his job while woo-ing her. He then impersonates a rich “Englishman” to impress her and keep her love, but is accused of murdering this same Englishman that he himself is impersonating. Instead of telling Irma the truth he goes to jail and in his absence Irma’s love remains true. Very sweet, and a challenge for me since of course the play is in German. Robert plays the part of the awkward policeman, of course. The company is called StageArt, a sort of community theater that people of all ages can take part in. The director, Uli, is incredibly dynamic. When I had no idea where to sit so that I would be out of the way of the actors she directed me to a bench in the center of the barn next to her and her two kids (who occasionally kicked a soccer ball in and around the actors). I began reading the script and found that the play was much easier to understand with the text in front of me.

So I became a sort of line-keeper, pointing out where we were when Uli needed to stop the actors for some reason or another. She spoke to me in English a bit to explain the plot. I wanted to thank her for making me feel at home but could not get the words out! A few of the actors also spoke to me in English and told me about their experiences in the US as we did some stage-set up. Uli seemed to be embarrassed when some of the actors did not come to the practice and thus she jumped up with my script to fill in for their lines. The acting was great, and even when I couldn’t understand, some of the adult men in the play had incredibly expressive faces that helped me with the context. Little by little, the stage was set up as the rehearsal continued, so that it came together langsam aber sicher, slowly but surely. I could not stop smiling throughout – Robert’s character is unbelievably funny. At one point he will jump out from behind a wall wearing boxers; a friend of his sewed on “Mum” in a heart in bright red velvet for the occasion. Robert is nervous even after a full week of rehearsals, particularly for the blocking (not a word they use, but that’s what it is). Many people are coming to the show. His friends from Karlsruhe, some people from the Russian department in Heidelberg, his mother, brother, roommates Anna and Nina and of course I will all be there to cheer him on at one or two or all three performances this coming weekend.

Hintergrund: the Plan!

What I think is quite unique about my experiences is that I have no set schedule or program outlining my days. Sorry to be repetitive for those of you who’ve already heard this story, but here is the background: I received money from UChicago to study German in Germany for two months. It’s called a ‘Flag grant’; the deal is that I must take a minimum of 20 hours of language courses a week and that I must bring some sort of certification back to Chicago to prove that I did in fact participate in classes. Beyond that, my time here is my own. Whether I attend an all-inclusive language course, sort of like the Ferienkurs I was in last year, or I take night classes at a University, it’s all up to me where I live and how I want to go about doing things. This gives me a strange sense of normalcy. I am a student with a student schedule just like I am in Chicago. Of course, the Frisbee practices and other extra stuff hasn’t really started yet since I’m still in the process of settling in and feeling around for what is out there to do. So it’s really not like Chicago since my days are much more relaxed.

In my case I shall fax the certificates back to Chicago at the end of these two months. I will then enroll in the BCGS program, or for the more pretentious name, the ‘Berlin Consortium for German Studies’. Through this program I will enroll directly into the Freie Universitat and the Humboldt Universitat in Berlin, depending on how I do on the German exams. The BCGS program provides us with a 6-week language course in September and October to prepare us for the ominous DSH-exam (Deutsche-Sprache-something), which I am getting more nervous for by the day. According to my current German teacher (more about him later), if 100 Germans took the test then roughly 10-percent would pass. Scheisse. It’s comparable to how a bunch of Americans would rank with the TOEFL English exams…lots of antiquated grammar and listening comprehension that nobody actually learns in elementary school like we’re supposed to. But back to the BCGS… we do a home-stay during that time in September while we look around and interview with people to find an apartment. Then we take one class with BCGS per semester – taught in German by a professor from one of those haughty American universities (this year is Cornell, I believe…?). We also can bug them for tutors when we are overwhelmed by those 15-page term papers we must write entirely in German. I plan to do this often.

The breakdown is 2 months in Heidelberg and the following 11 in Berlin. Since the DAAD (the German government’s exchange services) is helping me financially, I will also hopefully be able to travel in between. My goals as of yet (a bit ambitious, I warn you) are St-Petersburg, Paris, Budapest and eventually Istanbul. There are many friends in the area to visit… The Deutsche-Bahn will surely become a very close companion of mine… EB, from your blog it sounds like Russia is keeping you busy and treating you well (now that you found an umbrella)!

--Mein erster Tag--

Do you mind if I am thorough? Starting from the beginning will help me make sense of the present. I will confess that I am not quite sure what a ‘travel blog’ is supposed to look like, if it fits in the same category as ‘travel writing’. More like a personal narrative, but one that must maintain lots of interest so that the family visiting this site do not feel burdened by its lengthiness. I just envision a beautifully awkward situation when we spend time together next Fall or in the future: someone asks me how I liked the food, for example, and then they hesitate and think, wait, did she say that in her blog? If I ask then will it give away my negligence? I really should have kept reading it! I take absolutely no offense if when we see each other you confess to me that you have not read a single word. It’s ultimately just fun for me to write, and a way to make the distance a little less like 3,000-plus miles and a little more like a Skype-call or a letter.

Being driven by your parents to the airport with your entire life in three suitcases (in my defense, one of those three was cabin-sized) is an outlandish experience. It’s too easy to say that I was, well, excited for the trip I was about to embark on. I was in fact trying my hardest not to think about it. It’s too much to swallow, a whole 13 months without those familiar places in my life just does not make sense in my head. So after turning off my US cell phone for the last time in a while, I literally just thumbed through my flight itinerary for some sense of organization. My parents probably thought that I was holding myself together fine while they were the ones struggling. I think the struggle was equal; it sort of exploded just at the moment that I had to strip off my belt and shoes to go through security. I wondered how many crying people the uniformed crew of airport attendants with heavy Boston accents had to deal with every day. I proceeded to pass out at the gate for a full hour. Anybody would tell you that when you do an overnight flight to Europe the right procedure is to stay awake until you get on the plane so you can adjust to the jet-lag early. But the packing and the parting took so much out of me that I unfortunately strayed from protocol.

Aer Lingus is amazing for two reasons: one, they do not care if your luggage weighs over 44 pounds. Both of my bags exceeded the limit, not even counting my cabin bag. The second is the tea that they have on board. Amazing. Black and delicious. I could neither sleep nor sit tall enough to see over the seat in front of me to watch the movie, so instead I listened to music, copied down addresses into a brand new address book (exciting moment) and drank tea. When a very proper-looking blond stewardess walked by offering tea, a passenger in front of me said, “No, I’d like decaf tea please.” Uh oh, clearly the wrong thing to say. All traces of the stewardess’s polite smile were totally gone. She replied, flustered, to the passenger, “Decaf? No there is no decaf. Herbal? No! Tea is tea, I’m sorry but tea is tea. We do not have decaf.” The accent was Irish, and I could not help but feel like I was getting a little dose of Ireland in my gray plastic aer-lingus tea cup.

My roommate Nora in Chicago would not at all be surprised by what happened next. Although I had two hours in between flights, I nearly missed my connection at the Dublin Airport. In my defense, our plane from Boston sat on the tarmac for a good half hour waiting to find a parking spot, so I entered the airport already behind schedule and already stressed. Keep in mind that I had not slept at all; we landed after sunrise – I could see a little bit of the greenery beneath the fog – at around 5am. No problems in customs, unless you consider immigration negligence to be a problem. They didn’t even a look up at my face to verify that I was the same person as in my picture! The place was already a crowded mess. I found the flight to Frankfurt on the computer screens and began weaving my way to the gate. So many duty frees, one after the other, the kinds that make you go through the liquor sections in order to get through to the actual gates just so you’d stop to by something on your way. I finally get there and find a long queue but we are not boarding yet. Thank goodness; I set out to find some food. I linger back to the queue, relaxed to know that I was not going to miss my flight. I join the queue at the last minute. When I get to the front, I hand an attendant my green aer lingus ticket. I’m sorry, she said, but this is a Lufthansa flight. You’re at the wrong gate. Scheisse! I had looked at the time but not the flight number! Why would there be two flights to Frankfurt leaving at 6:50 on a Saturday morning?!? She was already busy taking other tickets so I rolled up my pants a bit and set out at a near run. Duty free after duty free. Finally back at the computer screens. I wasn’t only at the wrong gate, but the wrong “Pier”! Weaving weaving weaving and about seven minutes later I approached the other gate with maybe the last four people in line. Totally out of breath, I hand over my ticket, and a friendly Irish man with white hair offered to help me with my luggage. I collapsed in my seat and don’t even remember having landed in Germany at all.

I hate to bring up stereotypes, but of course the Frankfurt Airport was perfectly empty, spacious and well-organized. I saw exactly where to get my bags, where to give my passport, no problems. A free cart allowed me to carry all three seriously heavy bags on my own. The sliding glass doors opened and Robert was waiting for me on the other side with a big, welcoming smile.

My mother was right – it’s a completely different experience travelling somewhere when you know that someone will be there to pick you up. Someone on the other side is anticipating your arrival; this was starting to not feel like that exotic “third year abroad” experience at all but something entirely different. In Robert’s small silver car I recognized the signs for Speyer and Karlsruhe and Heidelberg and the small towns nearby. I knew the name of the Auto-route we were on. The scenery - the sort of rolling hills with pockets of small red-roofed towns - was not new, but comfortably familiar.

We climbed the stairs to the fourth floor of Robert’s apartment lugging my bags. His apartment is in the town of Rohrbach, a sort of suburb of Heidelberg, which is itself not very big. According to spotlightgermany.com (obviously I just looked this up) Heidelberg has a population of 135,000 people, 20,000 of which are students. Rohrbach is twenty minutes by bike (30 minutes by Strassenbahn since the trams are pretty slow) from the ‘altstadt’, or the old part of town. Interestingly enough, Rohrbach is where the American military bases are stationed. Mark Twain Village. A lovely place resplendent with monotonous beige barracks and barbed-wire fences. But it’s a very residential area, very quiet and inexpensive for students.

We left literally five minutes later to go to Durlach, a small town next to the larger city of Karlsruhe forty minutes from Rohrbach. Durlach is where Robert’s mother lives. She was not expecting me until Wednesday, so she greeted me with a big surprised hug. In my completely broken deutsch I explained to her that Robert wanted to surprise her on her birthday. Although I wanted to celebrate with her, she set up a bed for me and tucked me in. I woke up six hours later to find three large half-eaten tortes on the table in the living room. Fruit salad and strawberries soaked in Schnapps… She had around twelve people over for lunch and “sekt” (sparkling wine) and I had slept right through it!

After a large cup of coffee Robert and I went to a fest at the University in Karlsruhe, where most of his friends from high school are studying. There was a band playing and students everywhere. He introduced me to some friends whom I had already met and some who I had not. They were all surprised when I answered in German and were very understanding when I stumbled over my words, but one could imagine that listening comprehension is not rendered easier by large crowds and loud music. We made plans to visit Robert’s friend Sophia who goes to the University of Konstanz and camp in the Black Forest along the way; I look forward to spending more time with them not only for the German but because of how welcoming and laid back they seem to be. The rest of the story goes like this: jet-lag. There’s nothing like a change in time zones to force your body to catch up on sleep. After a hectic semester of classes and homework, arriving in Germany felt like arriving at a secluded summer house far from the distractions and stresses of normal Chicago life.

Heidelberg at 35° C

Was für ein heiBes Wetter! My mother was once surprised upon learning that Germany has great weather in the summer. I guess she envisioned Germany as rainy and cold year-round, even though the winters are milder than Chicago and the summers sunnier than Boston. Today I can hardly do anything but sit like a lizard in the apartment. I shall hopefully muster up the energy to record everything that has happened in this incredibly packed week since my Aer Lingus flight from Logan. But for now I shall ponder, reflect, look at pictures, and perhaps doze off until the sweaty sun goes down. One thing that is very clear is that AC does not fit into the ‘energy-saving’ German lifestyle… so after cooking in my course this morning (we are on the fifth floor of an old building with skylights) and going from café to café looking for an iced-coffee and some AC, I decided the most bearable place would be the shade of the apartment with a cold Pils and a nap… maybe even a little German homework. But in general: safe and sound, arrived and well.