-13 wonderful (unfassbar) things from January-

Okay, fine. I confess. YES! I am procrastinating right now. But after an ENTIRE day of surviving the StaBi (again, public library), this time the one at Potsdamer Platz, I'd say I deserve a little ice cream and some down time. And not only that, but I used my wonderful new bike to get there. Jenni, your bike could not have fit me better. I love it, and although I am very sad that you are not in Berlin anymore, it's... well, it's amazing!

Here are thirteen pieces of my month that I want to share with you. In the spirit of German orderliness they are listed in order of how great they were and are in my mind. Enjoy partaking in my January, and, of course, my procrastination.

13) Campbell's soup.

Sold for the cheap price of 5 Euros on the gourmet floor of the KaDeWe. What a deal!

12) A Fortune.

On my way to the FU one day, a craving for greasy Chinese food prompted a spontaneous stop at the Asia Box. The food quality was, as expected, questionable. But it sufficed to suppress my craving for a good long while. The best part of my meal was the fortune cookie. The following is a rough English translation of my fortune:

"Your next Fortune-cookie fortune will undoubtedly come true"

Ha! I have never heard a greater fortune, and a better marketing technique. Kudos Asia Box.

11) My favorite German names.

One would not expect for "German names" to be so different from "American names". It is apparently a bit looked down upon to use names like Jenny or Kevin for one's children, since those cannot even try to sound German. I have met a lot of Anna's, a Lisa, a Katherina, a Nora, a Robert, a Thomas, a Steffen, etc. in my time here; these are all names that we have at home, that are just pronounced differently in German. There are some names, however, that could never be said "in American", for fear of just sound incredibly, well...

(female)

Wiebke, Elke, Ulrike, Helga, Dagmar, Jutta, Gisela,

Geraldina, Cordula

(male)

Helmut, Dieter, Tilo, Klaus, Günther, Detlef, Egbert,

Karsten, Hannes, Bernhardt

10) DOGS.

I have come to hate them. Particularly when I mistakenly step on the little gifts they leave behind ALL over the sidewalk (thank goodness it is all frozen right now). Although there are many rules in German society, one entire demographic group that is completely free of restrictions: Berliner dogs. They can ride the busses, take up seats in the subway, sit cozily in cafes, and poop anywhere they please. Granted, dogs here are particularly well-trained. But still! Here are some signs that are completely ignored by dog owners:

9) Animalspeak!

More on animals, these are the sounds that animals make in Germany. I wish I could make one grand list of animal noises in all languages all over the world - how cool is it that groups of peoples simply interpret the animal sounds differently? It gives me faith in the pluralism of cultures, as opposed to the westernization of everything.

cow - Muh (english: same)
sheep - Mäh (english: same)
duck - Naknak (english: quack quack)
frog - Quakquak (english: ribbit)
dog - Wauwau (english: woof)
horse - Wiehern (english: Naaaaaay, i think)
rooster - Kikeriki (english: cockeldoodledoo)
hen - Pokpokpok (english: same)
turkey - Googlegoogle (english: gobble gobble)
bird - Piep piep (english: chirp chirp)
pig - Oink oink (english: same)

8) "American-styled" things:

I do not know what associates these places with the USA. Okay, well I can understand the pizza. American pizza probably means huge, thin crusted, and cheesy. But nails? I'll let you know the next time I get a manicure.

7) A poem that I discovered on the door of a women's bathroom at the FU.

The question posed was, "Wem gehört das Wissen?" meaning, to whom does knowledge belong? I found the response quite clever.

Wem Gehört das Wissen?
Sorry, diese Frage klingt beschissen,
doch ich will dich nicht dissen,
sollst' eine Antwort nicht missen:
'Dem, der es erlangt, gehört das Wissen,
Doch sind Freiheit und Gleichheit des Erwerbs wohl prämissen.
Zufrieden oder entsetzlich verschissen?'

6) More on toilets:

My own toilet has been flushing just about once every fifteen minutes, just for fun. I have gotten used to it, but while describing my bathroom to my mother I realized all over again that this is quite a special bathroom. A very efficient use of space, shall we say. The flush-happy toilet is located right in the middle of the very skinny bathroom, in front of the shower so that you have to walk around it to actually get to the shower. You open the lid 180 degrees before use, and then you pull a little chain to flush it. A photo, at just about its cleanest moment all winter:

5) Cool cars in my neighborhood, that must be still in use because they are not always in the same spot every day:

4) "Soziale Laden"

On my way home from the Humboldt one day, I happened upon the greatest thrift shop in my neighborhood, if not Berlin (or the world). It is essentially a place where people donate junk and then the money they make off of it goes to some form of charity. Here is what I purchased the two times that I have been there:

A turquoise belt

A purple and white tie (for Robert)
6 small white egg-holders for breakfasts
A gorgeous red and brown vase that matches my room
A bright yellow insulated lunch bag with lemons on it
A Berlin souvenir shot glass
And (best for last) a drinking game! Complete with four shot glasses and a spinner that might require you to do strange things like exchange your shirt with the person to your left.

All for the incredible price of 4 Euros.

I know, junk is probably not wise to collect, but the prices are irresistible.

3) "Grüssen"

Grüssen is one of my favorite German traditions. It isn't actually a tradition in the sense that it happens once a year. In fact, it comes up in just about every single conversation that I have here. In English the verb grüssen means "to greet". It is used in the sense of "say hello to (insert name here) for me!" And people use it all the time. Sometimes I hear people run into each other in the U-Bahn and they say "Ah, Frau Schmidt, ich grüsse dich!" When my room mate Anna said goodbye to me before leaving for Colombia (in December), she gave me a long list of people to greet for her, including my parents, my sister, and Robert. There's always someone to give greetings to, and sometimes the greetings can show various aspect of one's relationship to someone. For instance, at the end of a formal letter one writes "Mit freundlichen Grüssen", which is far less personal than "Mit herzlichen Grüssen". And guys say it just as often as girls do. Jan, Nancy's son, signs off his text messages with "Liebe Grüsse!" I just love it; it gives the impression of everybody being so connected to one another.

2) "keine Getränke, keine Speise. Alles verboten!"

I could not talk about January without complaining about the German libraries, just one more time. No drinks, no food... everything is forbidden! This is what a proud-looking security guard said to me today, as I tried to sneak a bottle of water into the reading rooms with me. Well, are there any water fountains on the other side, I asked. There's a cafeteria. You can go there, but you cannot bring your books with you and the only water is for purchase. Hmmm... my goodness. How obnoxious and marvelous all at the same time.

1) My absolute favorite wonderful thing from January is a quote from Erika, something she wrote to me in an email:

"if paper writing is too much for you, you should type your paper up in english and then copy and paste the document into the translator at dictionary.com and then go through
the text to fix the grammar. Maybe that might make things easier?"

Erika, I love it. Can't say that my professors would love it as much as I do though! Thanks for the suggestion :-)

Auf den Tisch klopfen...

A few more comments on "university-life" to add:

My favorite part of my classes comes right at the end. The question is this: how is one supposed to react at the end of a student presentation? Is it appropriate to clap, or is that a bit exaggerated for a boring ten-minute talk on Goethe’s biographical background? My experience is that Americans are particularly awkward in this area. For instance people will clap for the first presentation of a class but then forget for the next three, to the disappointment of the speakers. German (and apparently the Swiss and Austrians too) have found a great solution to this conundrum. After every presentation, or if someone makes a comment and people want to show their support, the students knock on the tables with their right hand. Knocking, for a few seconds, and then either the student takes his seat again or class ends. Sometimes people knock before class is over, particularly if the professor is going on a tangent and the students want him to quickly finish his thoughts.

Robert told me about his first day of classes in Poland. During the intro lecture at his Erasmus orientation, the Germans automatically knocked on their desks at the end; all of the other students (Brazilians, Americans, French, etc.) stood aghast and had no idea what initiated this sudden table-knocking. I’m curious how long it will take me to get out of this habit once I’m back in Chicago; either that or I will try to spread it around and see if the table-knocking-instead-of-awkward-applause-method will catch on. Clapping is out; knocking is in.

As an addendum to my last entry, it is a bit contradictory to complain about the full classes and then at the same time berate the German universities for not having enough places for all of the students who apply. As Robert has commented, not every high school graduate should go to university. Only those who are qualified should be able to study in medical school, in the same way that students cannot always get accepted to the university of their choice in the US. And good alternatives to university should be taken full advantage of. But it's still a strange concept for me as an american, especially since I think of university as a right rather than a privilege. I am not quite sure how the problem of huge classes can be resolved, other than giving universities more funding to hire more professors. That would also solve the never-getting-tenure problem, now that I think of it. But who has the money for that? No $150 billion obama-style stimulus plans for Germany...

Also, I have noticed that German students use two particular words in just about every sentence: "halt" and "quazi". I keep hearing these two words popping up more and more in class. They don't really mean anything; the best translation I can think of is "sort of". Es ist halt quazi eine Behauptung für... (It is, well, sort of an argument for...) I am hesitant to equate these two words to the way we use the word "like" in the US, since people can still sound smart when using them, and they are not substitutes for "said". They are technically called Particles, or at least that is the grammar-term used for them. The word "zwar" could be tagged on to the list too... (perhaps meaning "indeed"...?) That means that I have found the key to German fluency! It lies in the correct usage of three words that mean almost, sort of, indeed absolutely nothing. 

Also etwas IST mir halt eingefallen, und zwar, dass Deutsch quazi einfach ist!

BRESLAU: lantern lighting and more lasagna

Und wie war mein Wochenende 345 km und 6 Stunden mit dem Zug von Berlin entfernt?

Schön war's.

Breslau is a big city with a small town feel, which is something that Berlin, for better or for worse, just cannot offer. Going to Breslau for the weekend is a real escape from worries and responsibilities. Of course it helps that I have someone waiting for me at the train station (called Wroclaw Glowny) smiling and with open arms. I left Berlin on Saturday morning, and arrived in Breslau six hours later. Robert and I have repeatedly noticed that as soon as we cross the border back into Poland, the clouds clear and the weather warms up. This weekend was no exception: we had SPRING-like weather in Breslau, 6-degrees celsius and sunny. People don't usually think of Poland as the land of sunshine; if I didn't hear from Robert about the snowstorms resulting in power outages and frozen rivers, I would have a very skewed impression of Polish weather. 

I was very excited to see Robert's new apartment and meet his polish roommates. We spent a bit of time walking around the "Altstadt", the old city, stopping shortly in the medieval part to watch the man lighting the gas lanterns that border the street. 

We did a few grocery-store runs to collect ingredients for our lasagna fest, planned for the next evening. Although everything is obviously in polish, the brand for the lasagna noodles was none other than... GUESS! Of all names, Polish and Italian, the lasagna noodles were from some company named Melissa. A good sign. 

On Sunday we studied (Robert had to answer questions IN POLISH in a final exam yesterday), enjoyed the sunshine a bit, and baked two fabulously cheesy lasagnas for Kasia, Robert's polish-language partner, his roommates Damian, Mischek, and Magda, and the two of us. Vodka and ice cream to go with it. "Lecker schmecker", as they say in German. 

(Kasia and I after lasagna)    

Robert has many more details on his incredibly funny blog (robertinpolen.blogspot.com) for those who can read German. He continues to be astounded by how lucky he was in getting a room in that apartment, as his roommates are pretty awesome people. He is totally shocked by the fact that Damian cleans his dishes in the same day that he ate off of them, and more than that, yesterday he offered to wash everybody's jeans since he had some extra space in the washing machine! Oh the things that one appreciates after living in a dorm...

(Robert drinking tea in his new room)

In the meantime, I am back in Berlin, cozy in my bed on a Wednesday afternoon. I had a wonderful dinner with Jan and Nancy on Monday night. After a long day of classes yesterday (we discussed Hegel for THREE HOURS in my intellectual history class, enough to give anyone a headache), there was small cause for celebration. Diego, my roommate Anna's boyfriend, is finally back in Berlin after seeing just about the entirety of South America in five months. He brought us some Venezuelan cachapas (I think that's what they're called, sort of sweet cornmeal pancakes that are fried and delicious) and was consistently switching from German back into Spanish without even noticing. It's great to have him back. 

These next few days I am going to face the StaBi again, and perhaps finally get permission to take out books: my passport was not enough the last time I went, since it turns out that you need to bring the sheet proving that you're registered with the police at your address and only THEN are you eligible to take books out... they really could have told me that before I made a trip specially to bring them my passport... But I am really really really going to make progress now, since there is far too much going on in Berlin to be stuck in the library in the next couple of weeks. EB is coming on Friday! I already have a few museum stops planned and restaurants picked out. And next week a big film festival, called the Berlinale, will be starting downtown. Much to do, much to read, so I am sending out a big hello to those back home who have not heard from me in a while. I'm sorry that I haven't written and I will answer emails soon!

"UNIVERSITÄT"

Also “Was den Unterricht betrifft” (concerning studies) or “WiSe 08/09” or “What does Melissa actually do everyday” or “Life as a German Student” or “The Long Awaited Entry”.

Because this entry has taken me so long to write, the title names have simply collected over time. “University” is only a convenient summation of all the things I want to talk about regarding my classes and studies here in Berlin.

First off, I’m finally getting used to the many rules and regulations of how to pass in an assignment, which is obviously a good thing to learn before my research papers are due next month. This is a sample heading from a “free-write” assignment that I passed in at the beginning of the month, where I talked about my impression of German students:

Institut für Europäische Ethnologie
Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin
Tutorium Einführung in die Europäische Ethnologie
WiSe 08/09
Dozent: Sebastien Mohr
Melissa Weihmayer: „Freier Text“ Ausgabe
06.01.2009
Was den Unterricht betrifft

What do you think? Long, right? Complicated? Things that are complicated: this is a theme that will come up a few times in this entry. WiSe 08/09 is what we have to put as the third line of the heading for every paper. It must come after the course title and before the Professor (or “Dozent”, which means the person heading a class; this can be a student from a later semester as in my Ethnology Tutorium or a professor). It took me about three months before I figured out that WiSe does not actually mean anything having to do with the act of being “wise”, nor is it a secret acronym for a particular university or intro course. The big mystery is that it stands for “Winter Semester 2008/2009”. Very clever.

The entrance to the Silberlaube, a building at the Freie Universität (FU)

The Basics: University in Germany

Here’s the breakdown. One year of university in Germany consists of the Winter Semester, from mid-October to mid-February, and the Summer Semester, from mid-April to mid-July. That means people are in classes when it is warm and beautiful in the summer, but for that they have two months of vacation in the snow-is-melting-everything-is-really-gross months of February and March, and two months off in August and September. Students usually take these vacations to work full-time so that they can pay their semester fees (which is around 500-euros per semester in most provinces, but only 250 in the student-friendly city of Berlin) or to do short internships, called a “Praktikum”. A lot of students also work part-time (sometimes full-time) during the semesters.

German Universities are currently a mess. The research-universities in Germany are based on the innovative philosophies on education from Mr. Wilhelm Humboldt himself, someone whose texts we read in my intellectual history class. Up until two years ago, students would go to University to get a Magister degree, which is sort of like a B.A. and M.A. smushed together in five years. But these were very open, with few credit requirements. The goal was to allow students the freedom to study exactly what they wanted to learn within their “Fach”, or field. Some students would need ten years to complete their Magister if they were working in a job on the side, or if they simply wanted to keep taking courses for that long (something more possible if the universities don’t cost $40,000). Most people would finish in five. Robert was the last year of students to work towards a Magister degree, so he has 2-3 more years before finishing in Heidelberg.

German universities are in a total state of chaos since they are transitioning from this old, classically German system to the more internationally recognized B.A. and M.A. system. This means that the students have gone from little to no requirements to having far too many to get their degree in only three years. My roommate Anna takes 7 courses per week and works as a waitress in two different cafes on Wednesdays and Fridays. Yes, each course is only 2 hours long and meets once a week, and is either a lecture, which is huge, or a Seminar, which is hopefully smaller. But instead of really switching to an American system, what they don’t have are professors who have enough time to teach the same course twice a week. So it’s double the courses but the same amount of class time as what I would have in Chicago. That means, unfortunately, double the reading assignments. The result is very stressed students who do not do very much of their reading.

The nice part is that they usually don’t have to do that much to get credit for a course. The courses come in pairs, called “Modules”, usually with a more general lecture and then a seminar on the same topic that goes more in depth. The students can then choose to do work for 4 credit points or 2 credit points for each class within a Module (they need a total of 6 points per Module). That means that if a student wants 4 credits in the lecture, then he/she must do a presentation and write a “Klausur”, or a final exam, for that lecture. If a student wants 4 credits in the seminar instead, then he/she must do a presentation (probably) and write a “Hausarbeit”, or a final research paper, for the seminar. When one picks which one to work for the 4 points in, then one really only needs to prove that one “participated” in the other one, as in not missed fewer than 3 classes.

Are you thoroughly confused yet? The result of all this is that every student’s schedule looks dramatically different because every course and major has different requirements. And then in the classes themselves, only half of the students in a seminar really need to do the work for those 4 points, so half of the students participate, while for the other half, the most important part is signing one’s name on the attendance list. Imagine a classroom where the students in the front half of the room, around 25 of them, raise their hands to question or clarify something for whatever student presentation is being given. They also ask questions, and show interest during discussions. In the back half of the room there are a good 15 students literally with newspapers out, some sending text messages, some blatantly doing readings for other classes, and I even once noticed one student listening to his headphones for the entire 2 hours of class. While the quality of discussion is actually pretty high in the front half of the room, the fact that people have different requirements makes it rather hard to find the motivation to join those that do the work.

The Hauptgebäude (main building) at the Humboldt University (HU) on Unter den Linden

How to Survive the System

So the key to surviving in a German University seems to be to navigate the bureaucracy, to inform oneself of exactly what one must do in order to get credit for each class, and to do no more than one needs to for credit, unless one has the time and/or interest. But of those the most important is reading the fine print: how else could one learn knows what classes he must take in order to complete a B.A. in three years? Anna told me this as an afterthought, as if it’s assumed that one knows how to inform oneself about all of these things. But if I didn’t have the BCGS program giving me a little bit of advice here and there, I wouldn’t know where to start. I mean, I’m just one out of 37 THOUSAND students at the Freie Uni.

Another, perhaps surprising requirement for surviving in a Germany University is English. Just as a side-note, most German students take at least one class/lecture in English before they leave University. This is because the professor is visiting from elsewhere for a semester, because of a high-number of foreign students in the class, or because it’s just simply a field that must be studied in English. This includes Anglistik, of course, and maybe even Amerikanistik, but also things like Economics courses or Physics. So speaking English well becomes incredibly useful.

On the left, the Institute for European Ethnology at the HU

And then what?

And what happens for those students next, you may ask. That question does not have an easy answer. Whereas most Americans cannot expect a secure job without a B.A., if not a Masters, it is not quite the same in Germany. With a B.A. degree a student could either join the workforce if he/she can find a job, or go on to get an M.A. One can then stay in the university and embark on the incredibly complicated and difficult journey of trying to become a professor. As opposed to in the US, this takes a minimum of 10 years and a maximum of, well, there is no maximum. Even after 30 years of research, the university still might not have a position to offer a person that has published and made a name for him or herself. Therefore, there are a bunch of titles and honors for the between-steps. There’s something called the “Habilitation”, which is research work after one’s dissertation (I think… I don’t quite understand that part). Another thing I don't understand: my professor for my Friday class is officially titled "Dr. rer. pol. Hülya Tasci". Don’t know what that means. Too much Latin - in my opinion, these names and titles are just there to reinforce abstract hierarchies.

There’s more of an assumption here that those who study in a university will stay in academics. The reason is that there are many very high quality and well-regarded alternatives to University. This is called an “Ausbildung”, which is a two to three year internship at a business. They offer courses alongside the practical training, so people do this in retail or public relations or computer maintenance. Steffen, again Robert’s older brother who we recently saw in Dresden, began an Ausbildung at a very prestigious hotel. His plan was to become a chef, but although he is unquestionably a very good cook, he quickly discovered that had too many food allergies to make a life for himself working in a kitchen. But luckily there are other options.

People who go to Universities are either those who can afford the fees or those who completed “Gymnasium”, which is the sort of the elite high school track in Germany. Unlike in the US, parents do not put money aside for sending their kids to University; it was free when they were growing up, and the recently added fees have been a very disputed and upsetting topic for some families. Some people still go and do an Ausbildung after going to Gymnasium, but more people apply at University (I’ve met some people who did an Ausbildung, hated it, and then applied to University). If they don’t get a place after applying (which is INCREDIBLE… public universities that simply run out of places for students!), or if one’s sort of GPA after Gymnasium is not good enough for a specific field of study, then they would most likely take time off and apply again the following year.. Medical schools are notorious for requiring very high grades from high school, or, rather, very low grades since a 1 is the best and a 6 is the worst according to the German grading system.

The students in my classes, particularly in my ethnology lecture, are of all ages. I mentioned in another entry that I found it difficult to find students to spend time with on the weekends, outside of class time, even after striking up good conversations with some of my classmates. Well, as I was walking towards the cafeteria at the Humboldt with one student, I figured out why she might not have so much free time to hang out. She has two little kids, the oldest is 3 ½ years old, and she works part-time as a social worker. Her boyfriend helps a lot with the kids, and she’s much happier now that her courses are right in the center of Berlin, near where she lives. She worked for five years after high school, had her babies in the meantime, and she’s finally able to come back to school and work for her degree. I would never have guessed that she was a mother, particularly because she did not look any older than I do. But that’s an example of a student with her plate full. Now I’m finally figuring out what makes these German students seem so much more “mature” than the general pool of American college students: school is more complicated, Berlin is a big city, and real life starts a bit earlier here.

The snow-covered path towards the Freie Universität in Dahlem, a suburb of West Berlin

My week, my classes, and why I enjoy them

So after all of that background info here is the part about me. This is what my week has looked like since the start of the Winter Semester in mid-October:

----------------
Monday: German Class Deutsch als Fremdsprache Niveau B2,1 with Erasmus/exchange students at the Freie Universität from 4pm to 8pm

Tuesday: Lecture, Einführung in die Europäische Ethnologie (Introduction to European Ethnology), at the Institute for European Ethnology at the Humboldt Universität from 10am to noon

Seminar Berlin in der Zeitalter der Revolution (Intellectual History in Berlin from 1750 to 1848) at the Freie University from 2pm to 4pm (this is the course with my program, BCGS)

Wednesday: Tutorium zu der Einführung in die Europäische Ethnology (Tutorium for the Intro to European Ethnology lecture), again at the Institute for European Ethnology from 10am to noon

Yoga class at a small studio in Kreuzberg with a really nice German guy who rocks a navy-blue Mohawk (this has of late been replaced by my weekly afternoon nap)

Thursday: Seminar, Kulturpolitik und Kulturmanagement in Berlin (Politics and Management of Culture in Berlin) at the Freie Universität from noon to 2pm

Friday: Seminar, Staatsangehörigkeitsrecht und die Integration von Migranten und Migrantinnen (Citizenship-rights and Immigration Theory) at the Freie Universität from noon to 2pm
--------------------

In short I am taking three classes for credit, and four classes not for credit (the Tutorium, the Politics of Culture seminar, the German class, and of course yoga). My week is full and yet not full, stressful because the readings are really difficult for me (particularly for my Immigration Theory course), and yet not stressful because I have evenings free and the mornings to sleep in.

I’m really happy with the choices that I made. Part of the reason is that I am taking my courses with students who are in their first semester. Students measure their time in University in semesters here instead of in years. So instead of saying that one is a 2nd Year (aka Sophomore), one would say that one is in his/her third semester. Since they are “Erstsemesters” or First-Semesters, that means that they are also a bit lost, are also looking to reach out to new faces (or at least at the beginning), and are also learning the skinny on how to write research papers like I am.

I love my Intro to European Ethnology course, not because I needed an introduction to anthropology but because European Ethnology is dramatically different than what I expected. First off, it has a dark history in Germany; anthropology was used to prove that certain groups of peoples were scientifically inferior during National Socialism. The way that ethnology as a field deals with these dark origins (much as with colonial origins in France) is a fascinating reflection of how Germany reexamines its past to make better uses of its resources for the present and future. So many lectures, particularly at the beginning of the semester, mentioned some effect or limitation that German-ethnologists must deal with because of the perverted uses of Anthropology in Nazi-Germany. While we talk about colonial anthropologists, this aspect is rarely touched upon in Chicago. We’re about 100 students in the lecture, and my professor looks exactly like what one would expect an anthropologist to look like. He is furthermore approachable and has already made special considerations to fit the requirements of exchange students.

But I like my Tutorium even more than I like the lecture. I have already done a methods course in Anthropology (good times in Clare’s Eth-Meth class last spring). But in this Tutorium, I learn about how things are supposed to work here in Germany. That sounds simple, but it has been INCREDIBLY helpful. We spent an entire class going over German citation rules, and another class on how to look up books in the library catalogue. My tutor is a very cool student in his 10th semester in the Institute for European Ethnology. He’s currently working on his final Magister paper on homosexuality in the DDR, and has often shown us pieces from his research as an example for our own. He did a skit one day, showing us what the worst possible Referat (student presentation) might look like (showing up late, having a horrible Powerpoint, chewing gum, not preparing a handout, etc…) which is really the only way that I know what my professor will be looking for when I give my Referat on the 6th of February (not too far away!). I don’t know how other BCGS students are handling the work and their presentations in their classes, but I am really happy that I’ve gotten a step-by-step breakdown of it all. And we discuss with each other in small groups. That means I get to talk with other German students rather than just listen to presentations, which is one step towards getting to know new people.

My Friday seminar at the FU (Immigration Theory) is more like a typical political science course that one would take after one’s second semester. As such, it is chaos. We have around 35 students in the seminar… which is luckily twenty less than what we had on the first day of class. We only have around 30 seats in the classroom, so people that come last or late have to find chairs in other classrooms (my first two classes I had to stand near the door because there just wasn’t enough room for more chairs). This is the class in which only half of the students participate, while the party-half reads in the back (occasionally having side conversations, which is unbelievable, until the professor or another student complains about too much noise). There are simply too many students, but the teacher cannot turn anyone away (or could she? I don’t know). It’s a requirement for the seminar that everybody do a presentation. That means that just about every class consists of one or two or even three (were there four once?) student presentations. The professor, an Iranian woman who is a bit too nice for her own good, is in charge of making the reading list, and of assigning a day to those doing presentations. She seems incredibly knowledgeable, but unfortunately she does not often speak in class. I wish that she would synthesize the readings on her own more, because none of the student presentations are easy to understand. The handouts are two pages long, and they just sort of spit out every detail of the author’s argument.

Immigration rights and theory is a very heated topic in Germany. It is also a topic that constantly looks to two places for comparison: France, and, of course, the USA. Although I generally want to keep a low-profile and blend in with the German students (making friends because I am me, and not because I am American), I am occasionally expected to represent the US in that class. It is unavoidable! This means that the professor somehow assumes that I have spent time studying US Immigration policy and that I should know many more things about it than I do. I have participated on my own free will on a few occasions, with varying degrees of success. And I have been called upon to participate on other occasions, with varying degrees of embarrassment. In the second class, for instance, we were talking about two principles that differentiate French and German immigration policy. She suddenly looked around the crowded room and said, and where is that American, is she here? Oh yes. So what is the immigration policy like in the US? I was slightly more than shocked at the daunting question. Ummm, umm, well, I haven’t studied it in depth, but I do know that we have many difficulties with illegal immigrants, ummm, that cross the border from Mexico and then have to raise their kids without legal papers… (What do you think, was that a good try?) At least the other students around me, particularly those who hadn’t done the reading, were more than understanding. Apparently she tried to call on me on a day that I was too sick to go to class and was dismayed that I wasn’t there. I am researching American policy much more this month so that I can compare some aspects of German and American immigration rights in my research paper, meaning I won’t be so clueless the next time.

This is the last one, I promise. My intellectual history class is not a typical German class; in fact, it’s the opposite. It’s a typical U-Chicago style seminar where we read primary texts and try our best to learn something from them. Three great things about this class are 1) I have managed to do all of the readings, including two entire (short) novels in German and excerpts from Faust Part I, 2) I get to study history (which I love) and will get credit towards my German minor, and 3) class is often replaced with field trips, such as our voyage to the Sans Souci castle in Potsdam and our walk around the center of Berlin to talk about Prussian buildings and architecture (see entry on Die Deutsche Kunst).

I like that I have one class where I understand the way it works. We read, we take notes, we analyze, we discuss. We are a small class, only 6 students and our professor from U-Penn who knows us all well. We meet in the BCGS Seminar room, which is (I may have mentioned this before) our “home-base” at the Freie University, with a mini-library and computers/printers for our private use. I can therefore focus more on the material and worry less about whether or not I am doing the work correctly or blending in as a German student (and contrastingly, sticking out like a sore thumb as an American one).

Tibetan cloths being sold outside of the FU cafeteria

How German Students Are Different

One thing that has astounded me time and time again is the comments and questions that people bring up in class. They don’t just bring them up. They are not afraid to challenge the professors. In one lecture that I didn’t end up staying with, one student (apparently this happens especially among Freie University Political Science students) actually argued that they should not be evaluated based on class participation. In fact they should not have grades for class participation at all. She said that it was even preposterous that the Dozent was requiring them to sign an Attendance sheet for every class. She considered it an insult to the students, and requested that it be negotiated. The entire class joined in on the debate. The student prevailed. Not only that, but later the Dozent asked the students what they expected to get out of the course topic. What did they want to learn about and what did they want to read? Is there anything on the reading list that they think looks uninteresting? The students made various request on additional themes and topics they wanted covered, and the Dozent said that she would add those into the syllabus as best she could. Wow.

It is clear, from exchanges such as these, first that the students are not afraid to speak up and second that the teachers are there to teach the students what they want to learn. In Chicago, I often have the feeling that by being in a class I am working for the teacher, doing his or her bidding and just sort of passively complying with his or her list of requirements, trying to stay on his/her good side. I never imagined that a syllabus could be a departure point from which to begin arguing. I admire this because it shows a sort of intrinsic motivation to learn something interesting. Although some people may be wasting their time - doing very little work in University and getting away with it - others are really there to get something out of their classes, and not because the teachers demand it of them. Having major research papers for every seminar also works with this theory: the learning happens on the student’s own time, and on the student’s own terms.

Sunset behind the Henry Ford building at the FU

And that is what I wrote about in my “Free-write” for my Tutorium, generally speaking. I mentioned both my admiration for the students and my hatred for the complicated bureaucracy. I am also proud to add that my tutor recommended that I submit that assignment to the student magazine in the Institute for European Ethnology – I’ll get published! In German! Only a few grammatical errors to correct…. But all in all, I have learned a lot about what it is that I like and dislike about Chicago just from what I’ve experienced so far here in Berlin, in a school system that is just as challenging as Chicago but in very different ways. It’s surprising what one can learn about a culture just by trying to blend in with it.

You survived the mammoth entry! Exhausted? Still confused by all the bureaucracy? Yeah, me too.

my first poem in German

In an effort to calm Robert down at a moment of relative academic stress, I composed a little poem.

Quick summary: it’s always better not to let oneself stress, because you can simply get more done when you are calm. Easy to say, not so easy to remember when I get stressed myself (which is rather often - I am not quite the master of punctuality as many can attest to). My papers are still in the process of being researched, so my stressful time is still looming ominously. I’ll try to keep calmness in mind though, and meanwhile I should probably stop blogging so much so that I can actually get some work done!

Apparently there are two grammatical errors but I just have not found them yet. Enjoy if you can read German :-)

In der Ruhe, liegt die Kraft
(Dedicated to Robertt)

Jemand sehr klug und weise hat mir einmal gesagt....
In der Ruhe, liegt die Kraft.
Ich fand das schön, aber dann ich habe gefragt
wie man das machen kann; die Laune ist doch wechselhaft.
Aber es hat sich im Laufe der Zeit
Ständig und immer und zuverlässig gezeigt,
dass wenn man alles langsamer versucht,
Dann schafft man mehr, wenn man nicht flucht
Zum Beispiel anstatt die Arbeit zu vermeiden
Nehmt man die Arbeit mit beiden Beinen
Man bekommt zurück für seinen rühigen Gedanken
Ganz viel Erfolg, was kein Person könnte schenken.

Also in der Ruhe, liegt die Kraft
Und später wenn man alles schafft,
dann kommt man ganz Stolz raus aus der Haft!

DRESDEN: A 70th Birthday Party (and hints of "Ostalgie")

<-- Instead of an "Ampelmann", in Dresden they have "Ampelmädchen"! 

This passed weekend I was in Dresden celebrating Robert's grandmother's 70th birthday. Four days later, I am eating a breakfast on a Thursday morning of boiled eggs, malt bread and coffee, hoping eventually to muster the energy for a productive afternoon of reading and writing at the FU. But first I don't want too much time to go by before I fill you in on my weekend, if only because it meant so much to me. 

There are not too many students that go on a year abroad and get to meet family where they go. I cannot say enough how warm Robert's relatives have been to me, both his grandparents on his father's side (who live in East Berlin) and his aunts, cousins, grandparents, and everybody else on his mother's side, whom I met for the first time this weekend. Not only did I get my first exposure to serious Saxon accents (nearly incomprehensible), but I experienced first-hand the importance that east German's place on laughing together, telling stories, and spending time with family, if for at least one very lavish feast a year. 

I arrived in Dresden sneezing and guzzling cough medicine. My immune system really picks the best moments to let up the fight, but as disgusting as I was and felt, I was incredibly excited to see a new city. I had gone to my guest-sister Judith's 18th birthday party dinner the night before, but chose to catch up on sleep instead of going out clubbing so that I would have the most energy possible for Brigitte, Robert's grandmother's, party. After the two hour train ride I hibernated from the cold in a cafe near the train station. In their silver Peugeot, Helmut, Katrin, Thomas and Robert picked me up at the train station and squished to make place for me in the back seat. We went over to see his grandparents, who showed us which apartment Robert and I would be sleeping in. Meanwhile Robert's aunt who works for Lufthansa really wanted to practice some English, so we had some cute conversations as we waited. They rented three apartments in a sort of soviet-looking complex just for that night so that we did not have to worry about hotel rooms and we could all stay together. Robert and I were stationed in the "young couples" apartment, with his older brother Steffan, his girlfriend Karo (short for Karoline), and Robert's cousin Katya with her boyfriend Alex. 

Once settled, we followed Günther, Robert's grandfather's, instructions (he was clearly the boss of the operation, so there was a lot of waiting for his instructions) on how to get to our first destination. We headed via tram through the center of Dresden to the Lindenhoff Hotel way up on the big hill that overlooks the city. This hotel had a restaurant surrounded by windows so that we could see the view from our incredibly long table. More people joined us at the restaurant, so that we were a group of around 30, coming from Nurenburg, Gera, Jena, Karlsruhe, some from Dresden. 

Robert's great uncle presenting his grandmother with Hungarian wine

At the Lindenhoff we were served Sekt and coffee and had our choice of a wide array of incredible cakes, something that Dresden is famous for. I had an apple-quark cake (a new favorite) while Robert had some sort of current and berry creamy something or other. His aunt explained to me the names of each of the cake and their respective ingredients, but there were dozens, too many to remember (although this information would have been useful later on). In Brigitte's speech she explained to us why they chose this particular restaurant, which was where they had their "green wedding" dinner, meaning the original wedding dinner around fifty years ago. She thanked everyone for coming and was presented with the menu and wine that they had been served on that wedding day so long ago. This was also the time for Robert and Steffan to "present" their girlfriends to the relatives, which was a bit awkward for me and seemed very traditional. But I was surprised to discover that everyone seemed excited to get to know me, asking me where I was from and what I thought of Berlin. My goodness, those cakes and the view were amazing.

A few more pieces of cakes (Robert's younger brother Thomas had a total of three) and a couple of hours later we made our way to the Bergbahn, or the sort of gondola tram that took us down the side of the hill to the Elbe river. We crossed the famous but icy blue bridge (the Nazis had wanted to destroy it at the end of the war but were thwarted by two workers who cut all the dynamite lines) to the next hotel, the Schiller House. There the real feast began. 

The "Elk Room", very warm and with large traditional paintings on the walls, was reserved just for us, with its grand table for 30 and buffet. The spread included soup, salads, pretzels, cold cuts, cheeses, fish, an entire small pig (!), chicken dishes, pasta dishes, and more desserts. Throughout the evening (in between eating and eating and eating until we could not move) we heard speeches and jokes and poems and little songs and proclamations of admiration for Brigitte. We called this the "Cultural Program". Most members of the family (those who had time) prepared something. Robert recited two longer sketches from a well-loved comedian from the DDR. Both were about animals - I must say, although I did not quite understand the jokes, I was rather proud to see Robert acting out the sketches and hear his family members' bellowing laughter. He admitted later that he doesn't understand them much either; they must only make sense to those who grew up in the DDR. 

Robert's Grandfather reciting a poem in the Elk Room

A lot of the cultural program had to do with DDR spoofs, such as a joke about an elephant who was brought into the DDR to be Lenin's example of communism, and eventually ended up in the West with no zoo and no job. This is what I mean by "Ostalgie". Ost is the German word for East, and although the DDR certainly had its drawbacks (oppressive, cannot leave, etc...), the regime was around for fifty years. This is definitely an overgeneralization, but in that time it shaped the people who lived in it, in ways that are sometimes subtle, sometimes not, and regardless these ways are not to be forgotten, or left behind.

<-- Karo and Steffan

We played a couple of games, too. The first was a riddle. We were 

given each a sheet of paper with about 20 descriptions of nonesense things that each described the name of a German candy or dessert. I certainly was at a disadvantage in this activity, and I cheated off of Robert's sheet. But I was able to guess two out of 20 all by myself. Very exciting. Plätzchen and Schillerlocke. The first are little cookies that I had baked with Judith before Christmas and the second I had learned about when I toured Schiller's house in Weimar, although I don't know what the candy is. 

The dinner lasted from around 6pm almost to midnight. I left in Karo's car to go back to the apartment (very very well-fed but still feeling a bit sick and ready for bed) while the others waited for the trams. The "kids", meaning all between the ages of 18 and 26 stayed up late playing the most intense game of UNO that I have ever played in my life. People were laying cards out right and left and I was sure that they were making up rules (I mean, we Americans invented that game, didn't we?). Lots of fun, and I think I came in second-to-last place. 

We didn't have too much time to sleep since we were requested at 8:30 for breakfast. We packed quickly and walked to Günther's apartment for bread and cold cuts and tea. We said goodbyes and thank yous. I brought some of my favorite black tea as a gift for Brigitte, so hopefully we will meet again soon in Berlin for more tea and coffee. I still cannot believe how well they were able to organize everything, and how unbelievably lavish everything was. Chapeaux to them!

Robert and I were reluctant to part with his brother's, his mother and Helmut. Robert had flown to his hometown of Karlsruhe from Breslau a couple of days earlier to see a concert there and accompany his mother for the ride to Dresden. Robert and I decided to stay a bit longer in Dresden and then go back to Berlin together, so that he could take the train from Berlin to Breslau (much more convenient) the next day. 

So after a couple of hours of promenading around the beautiful Baroque buildings and seeing the Elbe by day (and escaping the cold with hot chocolate in a ritzy cafe), our relaxed Sunday ended back in Berlin with a cheap Italian meal, unpacking, and slowly recovering from my cold. The snow-covered fields were speckled with deer on the ride to Berlin through Lower Saxony and Brandenburg... incredibly peaceful. Dresden was beautiful and impressive, and I just know that I'll be going back there sometime, if not for another family party of Robert's then for tourism with my own family (OPERA!). 

Robert and I, the Elbe River, and the Old Bridge

Both Robert and I have a lot in store for us in these next two weeks; he has just moved into his new apartment in Breslau and I am looking for books, books, books. After the excitement of the inauguration, I guess we all need to take Obama's example and get back to work! I went on a tour of the fascinating but small Schwules Museum, the "Gay Museum", yesterday with my Ethnology Tutorium, and after I had a really interesting meeting with my Immigration Theory professor at the University cafeteria. I am all business these days, but of course being in Berlin that also means fun moments in between. I'll be joining Robert again in Breslau for this weekend, which means long stretches of train-time (I am seriously my most productive while on a train) in which I can hopefully learn a few Polish words here and there in preparation for meeting his new Polish roommates... 

!OBAMANOS!

As soon as I figure out how to upload videos, I'll get some "live footage" in here...

Kate and I left our class at the FU as soon as possible to go to Nollendorfplatz. There we stood in a line that stretched an entire block. Meryl joined us and we contemplated getting food as we waited to get in. A few Germans in line were laughing at the fact that they were suddenly surrounded by "Ami's", making them essentially minorities in their home-city. Tickets in hand, we paid the 10 Euro entrance fee and found that, unfortunately, there was no food to fill our hungry stomachs inside (grrr). Oh well, that's my contribution to the American Democrats Abroad I guess. Then we discovered that there were too many people in there to move! The venue was a rather grand-looking reception hall with chandeliers and fancy cocktail bars. We squished our way to a spot where we could nearly see the video screen, and for lack of time we stayed put. And then we heard the speech, and everything else simply did not matter. I particularly loved all the storm and clearing the water metaphors; it made me feel like we are a country at sea.

I noticed that the crowd tended to cheer at very particular moments, such as whenever Obama mentioned reducing our dependency on oil, and of course they boo-ed when Bush was mentioned. I noticed some people cringing when Obama mentioned God as the guiding light and the scriptures (Germans feel very strongly that religion plays too big of a part in US politics; this they consider rather backwards). Meryl, Kate and I celebrated with a massively delicious Dürüm Döner and some Berliner Kindl beers. The wonderful Turkish man who served us made us his special guests, and gave us chocolate, extra napkins for the never-not-messy Döners, and extra pieces of "milk brownies" that we had for dessert. 

Reading the New York Times this morning has never made me more proud to be American. I never thought I would say that, but wow, it is simply the truth. Kate, who lives in DC, was half-disappointed not to be home but half thankful to have avoided the masses trampling all over her neighborhood. Maya and Jessica, I am so so excited for you that you were right at the scene and I cannot WAIT to hear about it!

Die Deutsche Kunst

We went on a great field trip last Tuesday to the Museum for German Art. The beautiful building (sort of lost in construction sites right now) was build right after the Franco-Prussian War so that Bismarck could make a huge deal of Germany’s non-French and developing nationalistic identity. My expectations lingered somewhere between ‘what the hell is “German Art”’ and ‘I’ve never even heard of this museum before’. But I was pleasantly surprised on both counts, and really enjoyed what I saw.

Cordula, a professor of Art History at Columbia and our academic director’s wife (confusing? in any case, she has accompanied us on other field trips before) gave us our very own private guided tour of the museum. She has written 500-page books on some of the painters in there, so it clearly pained her to narrow the tour down to highlights. But what we did get to see was astoundingly different, although all under the Art History category of “Romanticism”. The Casper David Friedrich’s were amazing: existential or Protestant, random or completely imbedded with symbolism… you just do not know. 

Adolph Menzel (Friedrich the Great playing the flute at Sans Souci)

We also saw the frescoes from the Casa Bartholdy in Rome, which told Old Testament stories with a secret Christian twist that Cordula enlightened us to only after we went through the stories in depth. One of the paintings had an incredibly silly-looking camel that looked a bit like the one on the cigarette ads. And then came the later pieces by the tiny and asocial Menzel, in particular the scene of Friedrich the Great playing his flute in a room resplendent with candlelight and a warm ambience. The sketch he made of his foot was also incredible; I wish I had a picture of that one. What was special about this museum is that unlike French Impressionists or Mary Casatte, one will never really get a chance to see this art outside of Germany. That is probably why I knew so little about it before, and also why the tour was so fascinating.

Casper David Friedrich (man overwhelmed by nature)

Mondays, StaBi days, and Brownie days

Berlin in the snow, Dudenstrasse, and our kitchen in a messy, well-loved state...

My Mondays simply start late. The best thing about my week is that it doesn't officially begin until 4pm (or 16:00) on Monday afternoons. So today, I woke up at around 9:30 to my charming cell-phone ring, pulled my laptop onto my lap, and then, warm and cozy in my bed I wrote a three-page assignment for my German class about how the world heating up would not exactly be a good thing. I could have checked the grammar a bit better (as I learned later when it was corrected), but the sun was shining and it was time for my midday breakfast. The milk that I poured into my cornflakes-muesli-banana bowl was unfortunately, well, curdling, something that I noticed while pouring myself a glass after eating my breakfast (whoops, my stomach sang songs all day as a result). And the sun this morning - I hesitate in stating this for fear that it will be gone as quickly as it came - was bright and wonderful. 

So now I am in bed after attending my four-hour German class at the FU and making a dill-potato soup, that I am saving for tomorrow (somehow I was not that hungry for a 10pm dinner tonight). I am thinking about the process of writing these blogs. As compared to EB's and Jenni's blogs, I have been writing more thematically, rather than daily. That means, for one thing, that certain themes require a lot more thoughts then others. Therefore I tend to overlook the daily stuff in exchange for mammoth entries about, say, humor in Berlin (after five months I still don't understand that one), or spontaneous trips to the Baltic. And the big one, that I've been putting off until, well, let's face it I'm still putting it off, is actually getting around to talking about SCHOOL. As in classes, as in German, as in what I am doing each and every day and how I structure my seemingly abstract time here in Berlin. It will come soon, I promise. Although probably not in a timely fashion... 

Since Morgan, Aileen and Robert left (both Morgan and Aileen had various delays and difficulties due to the five-or-so centimeters of snow on the ground in Berlin) last Monday I have been steadily moving towards the road to academic accomplishment. By that I mean that I have managed to write no less than three papers in the past week, two for my Ethnology class and one for my German class. Getting practice writing "academically" in German is the most important part; topically I am not really pushing the thought-provoking frontiers of Ethnology quite yet. 

And not to worry, the StaBi has not yet consumed my soul. It did suck 25-euros out of my wallet (that's 25-euros less in my highly cherished funds, since the DAAD gives me my scholarship money in monthly increments and I am running a bit dry for January already!). And even with that I can't even take books out from there until I bring them my passport to prove that I'll be sticking around for a while. Man, these libraries are a piece of work. One would never expect the amount of work involved simply to GET to a place where one can get to work. 

I shall explain. In the StaBi (again, that's the nickname for Berlin's public library), which is an unquestionably gorgeous and regal building, with the words "Preussische Stadtbibliotek" engraved into its imposing gray stone, the first challenge is to enter the building. This may sound quite simple, but there are three unmarked entrances and the doors look so old and large that one would not expect that the strength of man could open them. The first two that I tried of course were incorrect, both "staff" entrances and closed to the public. After making it in, one is immediately overwhelmed by the complicated menu of what's on what floor. Once I got fed up, I just walked straight ahead. I was very tempted to walk up the beautiful wide staircase to the floors that I presumed held books and workspaces in some organized arrangement... but first the jacket, the bag, the purse, everything on you pretty much just has to go. There is a coat check just for this purpose (which is thankfully free, and usually has the only friendly staff member in the entire library). Then I needed to dig deep into my wallet/purse in order to find a one-euro coin, so that I could put my bagpack into a locker, that is inevitably barely large enough for a Berlin rat. 

But why, you may ask, can one not bring a bagpack into a place where one is planning on doing work? Very good question. I think the fear is stealing - either that or they think it's just fun to over-monitor everything that goes on in their libraries. One is given a plastic bag at the coatcheck, since, thankfully, one is allowed to bring other books into this prestigious building of books. Heaven help anyone who even thinks of stealing an 1800 bound theological text or something of that nature (they don't have new books in this library)... they'll just see it right through that clear plastic bag of yours. 

Okay, now I was ready to go in. But no, first I was indicated to exit the building entirely (going to where it is cold, also known as outside), and then go in a different entrance. Then the man waiting at the little useless reception desk (they don't perform usual "reception" functions here, so needless to say, to get my library membership I had to go to a different place) gave me a bookmark for every book that I brought in which he would later count when I left again. I also got a piece of paper saying that he authorized my entry for the acquirement of a pass. I asked where I could get a pass, and he said just follow the signs. Oh good. As if that would be easy. I followed, I followed, and followed, up the grand staircase, down a long hallway that smelled of hospital, into a computer room (asked at the desk there, thought i'd found it... but that would have been too easy), up another skinnier flight of stairs into a musky-smelling reading room with wood shelves and tables, contemplated just sitting and taking a break, then through two sets of doors and tadum! Anmeldung. Registration. Four more flights higher than I would have expected it to be. A desk for the purpose of taking out books and getting library passes. 

The lacking my passport thing was the only obstacle from there (and the reception guy forgot to give me a bookmark for my dictionary, which he actually apologized for on my way out). After spending a bit of time in there I was finally able to appreciate the atmosphere, and I even got a substantial amount of reading done. But unfortunately, as there was no food or water allowed in the library itself (this is another of my raging frustrations with German libraries), my gurgling tummy got the best of me. I went on the hunt for snacks. Oh how I dearly miss Ex-Libris, and the practice of bringing multiple mugs of tea as well as a fresh supply of fruit in the Reg in Chicago! To my surprise and delight there was a small cafeteria room in the basement, where I found a wonderfully cheap coffee machine. Fancy coffee. A fancy espresso-spitting vending machine for the soul purpose of appeasing people who were pissed at the over-complicated library systems. Or at least that is how that vending machine and I became friends - I vented, and it fed me warm drinks. I mean, it had three different options for the hot chocolate: with milk, with water, with cream. So the 25-euros and the maze of stairs and the coat checking and the reception guy is in some ways, worthwhile.

That was my adventure on Wednesday, after two students in my Ethnology class pointed out where the public library was on their way to the cafeteria at the Humboldt. What I am finding difficult, now that I have been here for a while and the surprise and interest of me as an American exchange student has sort of worn off, is to follow up on these friendships. I have met great people in my classes, really cool, people studying Finnish and who spent a year after high school working in meat markets in Australia and the like. People who dress well, and dress down and make it look good. People who make incredible comments in class, comments that make me think twice about what I read the night before (if I managed to understand the reading, that is). And although I did have lunch with two really nice girls at the Humboldt before break, and although I have good passing conversations with a couple of people before and after class, and although I have a couple of emails of students that I've met at the Freie Uni who study English and think it's cool that I'm American, how can I actually convey to them that I want them to become my friend? How can you turn an email from someone working on a presentation with you to a totally casual hanging-out or getting coffee on the weekends? Part of me wants to just email and say, I'm not new here anymore, but I am still an international student, and I'm here to get to know Germans, so can you let me know if you know of any parties and then can you invite me to one? Okay, now I'm venting a bit. And I'm answering my own question: I guess it does take a dose of intentionality at first. It's not such a crime to be incredibly honest and say, I'd like to meet people, please help. 

What's great about having a German class with Erasmus students (that's the big exchange-student network for people in Universities in the European Union), is that they appreciate the difficulty in making friends. One girl, an Italian named Chiara, was telling me how surprised she was at how little Germans reach out to exchange students. She sort of expected that it worked like at her University in Bologna, where people hang out for at least half an hour after class just chatting and finding out when they could all meet up again next. It's refreshing to learn that I'm not alone here. And I assume that those same problems apply for german students too, particularly those who did not grow up in Berlin or wherever town their school is in. People stay friends with their high school friends in such a way that it is not necessary to make new friends in University. It takes a while to meet people in such a huge school in such a huge city; it's not easy to find good roommates, or to find the right club or team. 

And speaking of roommates! Mine is coming back MANANA, tomorrow, from her epic month-long trip to Columbia, where she spent Christmas with Diego's family and friends. Anna was supposed to arrive on Friday, but a major snowstorm in Madrid caused her flight to be cancelled. That's crazy, right? Snow in Madrid? Then I heard that starting Sunday the plane company, Iberia I believe (?), decided to go on strike. So at least that sounds more normal for Spain than weather-related delays. But Anna has been stranded in Caracas, Venezuela for the weekend and has been trying to call her nearly frantic parents (who live in Freiburg, south-west Germany, near Heidelberg) whenever possible. Her Mom then calls me and tells me the news. The most recent update is that she's left Caracas and will be spending the night in a Hotel in Madrid, before finally flying to Berlin in the morning. I will have to juggle my time a bit to be home to let her in, but I cannot wait to see her and have another person to cook with at night again. I will have to yell at her at some point for being gone for so long, because, although it's been quiet, I am just about done with having this apartment entirely to myself. 

So the rest of the week went as follows:

Wednesday: class and library troubles at the StaBi.

Thursday: skipping my optional class (come on, I'm not getting credit for it anyways) to have tea with Gerd (my former employer? see "Rennfieber" entry from December) and Jenni (who is taking over my job in which I was supposed to get discovered by Hollywood). That was followed by similar library struggles, except this time at the Freie Universitat library. How can they possibly expect me to know my password, when they never gave it to me in the first place? Oh well. Kate, Jenni and I then met up late that night to go to the small Yorckstrasse movie-theater, where we saw the oddly exciting film Jerichow with an incredibly good-looking actor (robert, forgive me) named Benno Fuermann. The moon was full, and the walk home in the cold was quiet and peaceful. 

Friday: a non-optional class, and then a coincidental run-in with Nancy's son's girlfriend Julia, who recognized me in the small cafeteria under the Law building. Oh how proud I was to be recognized among so many on that campus! It was great to spend time chatting with her, and still a bit unbelievable that we both happened to be in that cafeteria at the same time. I then SUCCEEDED at taking out five books on Johann Gottfried Herder for my Intellectual History in Berlin class, all of which may be somewhat helpful for my research paper. That night Jenni, Kate and I met up again and ate pizza at a great (and tiny) Italian restaurant. We then went out for some cocktails (I had a... Polar Bear?) and turkish cookies around the Kottbusser Tor area. 

Saturday: Meryl King is in town! Who needs to attend Chicago when Chicago comes to visit you? She is doing a month-long German program at, surprise surprise, the exact same Uni that I am at, the Freie Universitat. We met by her U-Bahn station in the town of Charlottenburg, where she is staying with a German host. I am really glad to be able to pass along some surviving-in-Berlin wisdom to Meryl, who is steadily getting her German back from our time in Dagmar's class freshman year. Our big accomplishments were getting a month-transportation pass and then buying a sim-card for her Turkish/European cell-phone, which we celebrated with tasty breakfasts at the Kant Cafe. We then did a big walking tour all along the Kudamm and then from Potsdamer Platz to the Gates and down Unter den Linden, where we made a side-stop at the Komisch Oper's annual costume sale to check out the crazy costumes and old wooden furniture (see picture). A quiet night of resting my feet and defrosting with tea ensued.

Sunday: Skyping day, chilling day, day of finishing "The Story of Doctor Dolittle" (what a great christmas gift), movie-watching day ("Little Miss Sunshine", also a great christmas gift), a SLEDDING day, or at least a day for enjoying the frigid sunshine and taking pictures while watching kids in big puffy coats climb onto wooden sleds on the Kreuzberg, and finally, a day for dinner parties and brownie baking. Meryl came over (didn't even get lost!) to help with the brownies, and we went together to Jenni's apartment (which is not far, a walk) for a seriously gourmet feast. Pork tenderloins with delicious things stuffed inside, Quinoa-and-Fennel-Pilaf, lots of good wine, an impressive assortment of cheese, home-made caramel corn (to die for), and last but certainly not least fudgy, slightly undercooked, sweet, made-from-a-mix, real American-style Brownies.

Monday: Well, Monday is almost over. Actually it ended two hours ago. I'd like to think that I recovered quickly from the jetlag, what with the beer-tasting and fun of having Morgan here... but like I said, my Mondays simply start late. 

(By the way, I promise that I won't go day-to-day in my entries from now on. It was just a fun new experiment, and a nice divergence from typing in German)