Lately I have been in high-stress mode with projects but extremely 'gut gelaunt' (in a good mood). I have been really active with my Landeskunde project and was at a Montessori school today scheduling an appointment for visitation. Next Wednesday I will observe a classroom for my project and also out of personal interest in the school structure. I also intend to ask after assistant or volunteer positions there, either as a native English speaker or general aide. I applied to a bilingual preschool a couple weeks back but have not received an answer. Following up is absolutely required here, not that it isn't in the rest of the world. I just see the German system as far more bureaucratic and less informal than in the US, in all regards.
A major source of fear, however, is the psychology presentation I will give this coming Monday. I realize I keep mentioning this... nerves lead to redundancy? Mostly I am in paralyzing shock which comes across as indifference, and also trying to comprehend the topic while imagining how I can avoid sounding like an idiot in German.
Today was gorgeous here. Between 23-42 degrees (we never have such extreme daily variations in Portland, do we?) but brilliantly sunny. I went for a long walk with a friend through Olympia Park, a large well-known park here. The Montessori school is situated nicely in the middle and we took advantage of the surroundings afterward.
Olympiapark im Winter. Photo credit: KWalk (flickr)
I am going to Amsterdam in March, as I mentioned in a previous post and as Facebook has broadcast all over everyone's newsfeed. This is thrilling and I cannot wait. I plan to also go to Copenhagen that month, and have been messaging with many couchsurfers in the area about the pronounced bike culture in both cities. Amsterdam also has three large art museums that I am eager to see, and I have become attached the city through literature, films, and an intuitive leaning toward its sophisticated quirkiness.
Someday I will learn to play the cello. For now, however, I must settle for listening to contemporary avant-garde string quartets (that such a phenomenon exists is glorious in its own right) and dreaming. I have been dancing again, just on my own, since the past few months. Es tut mir gut. It is good for me.
Ich habe ein interessantes Gedicht über Ausländer in Deutschland gefunden und wollte es hier notieren.
Ein Imaginärer Ausländer-Generalstreik in Berlin
von Aras Ören
Die Dame im Café am Nachmittag will Kaffee und Kuchen haben aber die Tassen sind nicht gewaschen die Serviererin ist nicht da.
Wo bleibt mein Essen etwas exotisch gut gewürzt und mal was anderes. Der „Dönerkebab"-Spieb dreht sich nicht auch der bunte Gemüseladen um die Ecke hat seit Tagen dicht gemacht.
Der Patient wartet auf den netten Arzt umsonst der Alte im Krankenbett wird nicht gepflegt auch die Suppe in der Küche nicht gekocht. Die Müllabfur funktioniert nicht ganz die U-Bahnhöfe stinken.
Berliner Export hat Defizit Kongrebteilnehmer aus aller Welt haben die Nase voll ihre Betten sind nicht frisch flinke Bedienung verschwunden.
Wohnungsnot nimmt kein Ende Versprechen sind schön – wo sind die Bauarbeiter? Rentenkasse sucht dringend Zuschub weniger Beitragszahler, überall rote Zahlen Der letzt Ausländer macht alle Lichter in Berlin aus und geht.
Der Grobbetrieb schreibt ans Werktor: Wir suchen Leute! Jeder Kanaker ist angenehm. Der Mann auf der Strabe schreit immer noch: Ausländer raus!
Dieses Gedichte erinnert mich an einen amerikanischen Film, der "Day Without a Mexican" heißt. Es war eine Parodie einer Dokumentation und ziegt wie Kalifornien ohne hispanische Immigranten wäre. Nach dem achten Antrag gegen gleichgeschlechtliche Lebenspartnerschaft in Kalifornien, haben viele homosexuelle Leute in "Day without a gay," einen Streik im ganzen Bundesstaat, teilgenommen.
Last night I arrived back in Munich, half-heartedly unpacked one bag, devoured an obscene amount of chocolate-covered almonds and raisins and cooked dinner with friends. Winter break in Zürich proved very enjoyable, and I am astonished at how little English I spoke during the past two weeks. Typing in English to a friend on Skype was more difficult than it should of been and I had to sound out the words in my head for a few minutes before regaining my grasp on my first language.
Today I had my literature course and then an appointment with my professor afterwards, of course with time for a cafe break in between. I am still surprised by how unbelievably long the vacation felt, and I had an emotional happy moment in the train on the way back. I was listening to Bon Iver and contemplating so-called important topics, and it hit me really hard and very intensely, the realization that I have achieved one of my most important life goals. Learning German, being here, connecting very intimately with my family and with my heritage all solidify my Swiss and German identity. Learning and really loving both the language and culture, in spite of and in a large part due to the flaws, has taught me that understanding the ways in which a country is far from perfect is necessary. Being able to appreciate what said country offers after confronting this truth is what determines your opinion of it, and in turn its impact upon yourself.
Not having to constantly think before speaking German, being able to understand all the films, as well as many of the nuances and jokes has been very incredible. Less glorious has been accepting that I will never understand it all in the way that I do with English. It is not second nature, but it is feeling more natural. I am also over the surge of pride for being from the US that I experienced after Obama's election. It was really important to identify as an American and recognize the incredible and unique aspects of that culture while deciding that it was the one I felt most comfortable with. The happiness is still there, but the emotion has dulled down to leave room for other discoveries, other developments. I still identify as an American, but more strongly than ever as a Swiss-American.
My Oma left Germany in 1948, I learned. I thought it was 1945, directly after the war. However, she was trying to leave for a long time, and she ended up fleeing on a bicycle into the mountains as the Russians came. She lost her suitcase because the Red Cross ambulance that took it for her was blown up, as was her mother's expensive jewelry inside. She was then able to get on a train, but she wouldn't have been able to make it into West-Germany if the man next to her hadn't pretended that they were married.
I often hear the same stories from my Oma, and during my visit in October as well as the trip during freshman year, I began to learn more in depth about what she experienced. Yet it is all still very new because my Oma can speak beautifully and quickly in German. She can do this in English, too, but I believe she recalls more when we are already speaking German.
Eating vegetable soup, curried soy wurst and fresh-baked pretzels with cousins in Biberach.
I was also in Biberach, Germany, for a long weekend. I met a daunting amount of family members that I had never been introduced to before, as they were "angeheiratet" or related through marriage. They were shockingly cool, all vegetarian, super liberal, wonderfully sarcastic and well, German. I had never felt so at home in such a brief amount of time before. The whole experience left me with a vague desire to call out "You are my people!" I love the crassness that comes with large families, the unabashed discussion of politics, sex and death and the amount of love and support that is evident in the way family members gaze at one another. During that weekend I went ice-skating on the frozen lake, played a myriad of pseudo-personality divulging games, dined well, played with small children, gossiped with other young and older adults, talked politics, cooked a monstrously large and delicious vegetable soup, saw a film with a second-cousin and relaxed.
I have, as it were, become acclimated. The adjustment was insanely rapid and about 85% of it happened within the first three months, but that last 15% was as slow as molasses dripping and just now caught up.
Olympiapark im Winter. Photo credit: KWalk (flickr)
