Sook in Germany

Up On the Roof

2008-04-30T09:32:00.000-07:00

The Air Is Fresh and Sweet

Magdeburg is being smiled upon by the weather deities. We finally have spring! Today is gorgeous. Blue sky, gentle breeze, 65 degrees or so. Instead of going to the park, where my fresh air would be ruined by ubiquitous cigarette smoke and bees and ants and all sorts of icky crawling things, I am sunbathing on the roof of our building.

It's a very nice roof, full of character. It's L shaped and sloped, which gives me a woozy feeling whenever I stand up. There are nine old chimney stacks (or some sort of stacks) and one satellite receiver. The roof itself is not a uniform black; the vertical portion of the L is a rough grey with black tarring, whereas the foot is more charcole-colored. We have a nice view of the Magdeburger Dom and various church spires, the railway tracks, and a bit of the Hundertwasserhaus. I like this roof and am proud to call it mine. Our wlan is also strong enough to get up here, which is wonderful.

Row Row Row Your Boat

Since Jeanne has begged me to let go of any aspirations I may have had of playing rugby, I need to find something else to occupy me at Mount Holyoke. She mentioned that crew, riding, and lacrosse do not require one to have played in high school. I like animals and did a brief stint of summer camp riding, but I have a feeling I'd be pretty lousy on an equestrian team. Lacrosse could be neat, but I am worried about that which NO incoming college student worries about: losing weight! Lacrosse involves a lot of running, and while that's super for cardio and all, I have heard that running is good for weight loss. Admittedly I don't really know what I'm talking about, but it seems logical, and I really don't want to lose any weight. Just the opposite.

Now as to crew, I don't look at myself in the mirror and see "rower" written all over me. I'm small and elbowy and not very strong (which can change, of course, but the small and elbowy is there to stay, I think). Then I think to meself, "Self, there is one person who sits in the boat and doesn't need to be big and unelbowy! The cox!" And I'd be terrific at yelling at people at 5am. :-P But seriously, I've been getting up earlier recently and really enjoying it, so that wouldn't be an issue.

It's a strange feeling though, thinking about being a cox. My aunt coaches crew and I know next to nothing about the sport. I do know, however, that the cox is responsible for controlling the boat and rowers; it is not just motivation -- it is also the technical aspects. Why should anyone put that trust in me? It seems a mighty lot to think I could learn enough about it in time for practices, let alone a race.

And if this is me thinking about Division III Junior Varsity Crew, imagine how I feel about possibly becoming a doctor. At least that's not for a long time, if it is to happen at all.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

I am very happy that my parents are coming in a few weeks. I love them very very much.

I will also be doing something that, at the beginning of this year, I never would have thought possible: missing the school and co-workers and kids. The year isn't even over yet, but what with MHC excitement, parents visiting, and sommer coming, it is certainly winding down. Just under four months left.

You Can Make Me Really Happy...

2008-04-12T12:13:00.000-07:00

... by getting me Irish Gaelic textbooks and CDs. Or by sending me to Ireland for an introductory course. Or both! And I wouldn't mind anything that has to do with Ireland, really, especially if it involves pretty pictures of the land.

More on Med School

2008-04-10T10:48:00.000-07:00

I'm Weird

When I ride the trolley to work early in the morning, there are often many students who take the same trolley. One batch of them gets off at Liebknechtstraße and the second batch at Spielhagenstraße. At each of these stops is a school and the students are all on their way to class. They carry backpacks and textbooks and posters and lunchboxes. They talk about teachers and courses and tests and grades and planning prom.

Dear God.

It's so annoying.

Not because the students are disagreeable, but because when I ride with them, I feel distinctly at a loss. I like school. I am a good student. I do the learning thing pretty well. And after 14 years of class, suddenly not having homework or papers or textbooks is baffling. It's difficult not to be a student. Really difficult. I mean, I'm looking forward to finally getting my summer reading assignment from Mount Holyoke, whereas most high school grads can't wait to never again have summer reading. Freak.

I think this is one of the reasons I want to go to medical school. If asked to write a sentence containing the phrases "medical school" and "safety net" a reasonable outcome would be something in the order of, I have a safety net set up in case I get rejected from medical school. Why, oh why, is my sentence, I want to go to medical school because it is a safety net to protect me from never needing to actively study again.

Of course it isn't that simple. But the idea of planning my future in a series of educational gradients is quite attractive. High school, college, med school, residency, CMEs... Yep, sounds great.

How weird am I?

Two Neat Med School Programs

1. Mount Sinai Humanities & Medicine Early Acceptance Program sounds as if it were created just for me. Sarah's Special. Go read. It's super-duper cool.

2. The Atlantic Bridge Program is also attractive, though really it is just an application service to apply to Irish medical/dental/veterinary schools. Hmmm. I doubt my folks would be so thrilled at my spending four years in Ireland, and to be honest I'm not entirely sure how I would feel, but... I really do want to go back to Galway. If I get into the Mount Sinai program, I could probably do a semester/year abroad there, but if I don't, then the premed courseload will be in all likelihood too intense to take the time "off."

When I Grow Up...

2008-01-30T12:36:00.000-08:00

...I want to be an orthopedic surgeon.

Occupation 101

2008-01-19T14:21:00.000-08:00

Every year on this weekend, Magdeburg observes a memorial day in honor of those lost in the WWII bombing of the city. Every year on this weekend, the Neo-Nazis demonstrate, publicizing their claim that bombings such as these were the "true Holocaust," and that the Germans ought to revere the men who fought to defend their land. There are, of course, counter demonstrations, ranging from organized, peaceful groups, to roudy antifa punk cliques.

I had considered going to the demonstration, but I slept in and it was raining (ain't I a great activist?), so I lazed about for the morning reading a cookbook. Late afternoon, I settled on Stir Fried Chicken with Chinese Cabbage and Death By Chocolate Torte. The rain had let up, so I ventured out to go buy the ingredients. By this time, I figured, the protests must be over, as they had started around 9:00am.

How wrong I was.

Walking through the city was surreal. It was still dark and wet, spritzing a bit, and hardly anyone was on the street. And then I saw the blue lights flashing up ahead. Another block. One more block. And then, there they were. The Nazis.

The wore all black, and carried black flags with them. This was their "Trauermarsch" - a Mourning March. And all around were police. So many officers in olive green, white helmets on or at their sides. Cars, vans, trucks. Ambulances and motorcycles.

It was surreal. At first, I didn't realize they were the Nazis, because they were so quiet. I thought it might have been a counterdemo. But then I got close enough to read the signs. Disgusting messages and thoughts covered up to seem simply 'patriotic' or 'conservative'. On a few of the buildings, big signs were hanging from windows, saying things like, "Magdeburg doesn't want any Nazis" or "Nazis? No, thanks." The people on the street, the others like me, were mostly standing on the sidelines, watching the demonstration. Some were intrigued, some unconcerned, some clearly revolted.

Having passed by the marchers, I reached an intersection that is generally bustling to the point of frustration. Here is a mall, the market, and several big department stores. Normally, you need to elbow your way across the street or into a building. Not today. It was so still, so bleak. More police. Trolleys were running on a holiday schedule, and rerouted around the march, and cars were almost non present. A few groups of people, huddled under an awning to avoid the drizzle, smoking cigarettes.

I went to the store and bought the food. Inside, it was busy, but not jammed. I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that it was horribly strange to be buying delicious things when the Nazis were, at this point, probably marching right past my home. I walked back, and by now it was dark. Police, everywhere, green and white with blue lights and there in the distance the black silhouettes of the Nazis with their damned flags.

I came to a street I needed to walk down in order to get home. There was a police barricade there, vans blocking the street, officers standing guard, with more cars off to the side of the road. I asked an officer if I was allowed to walk down the street.

-"This area is blocked."
-"Oh..." Because, really, that wasn't obvious at all.
-"Where do you need to go?"
-"Kepler Street."
-"Do you live there?"
-"Yeah, but if it's blocked, then it's blocked... I don't want to cause any trouble." Maybe playing it sweet and innocent will get me past the otherwise stoic German police. They really are sticklers for rules.
He consults with his partner: "I guess we could let her through, right?" "Yeah, I suppose."
-"Okay, you may enter. Stay off the street and go directly home; no wandering off."
-"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Although the marchers had passed this particular part of the route, the street was still empty, devoid of passersby. I was constantly on edge, looking this way and that, creating impossible scenarios of being jumped and warding off the offender with chicken thighs and heavy cream. Glancing back at where I had come from, the police were still there, solid and unmoving, and so many of them, even though the protest was no longer there. I have no doubt they remained well into the night.

In all the buildings, hardly any lights were on. Those rooms that were illuminated had the curtains drawn. I don't know if this was coincidence or paranoia. I had left my curtains open, but it felt somehow wrong, what with all the other shades drawn everywhere I looked. I closed them, and left the lights on as low as practicable.

All day, I had been trying on and off to reach the Buchmanns, who were away at a Quaker business meeting for the day. As the day turned to evening and then to night and I still had no reply from them, I got really agitated. I had expected them to be back this evening, as they mentioned doing something together tomorrow. Given the day's atmosphere, I was very nervous, the type of nervous you get when you have a fixed idea of how something should be in order for it to be 'correct' or 'right', and then it doesn't happen, and you wait, and it doesn't correct itself. The type of nervous I get when I expect to see Dad online, and he doesn't come on and I justify it, saying "Oh, he's busy," or "Oh, he has lunch," or "Oh, maybe he's at the new building." But because I know he's almost always online, these excuses don't do much to console me, because, damn it, that doesn't fit my cosmic vision and I'm forced to make mountains out of molehills. Why isn't he on? Did the electricity go out? Is there a storm in Philly? A fire in his building? Where are the Buchmanns? Are they in bed already? Did they have to drive through Mageburg to drop Johanna off, and get caught in the demonstrations? Was there an accident? Are they okay?

They are okay. They are staying overnight where the meeting was and will be back tomorrow afternoon. But, God, those minutes of pure "Ahhh!" are horrifying. Hearing the police sirens every now and then, afraid for some unknown reason to open my curtains, unsure of where my family was, having spent the day walking through a ghost town crawling with cops...

I can't help but wonder what it's really like to live in a region occupied by the military. To be unsure of the fate of your loved ones. To see officers on every corner of an empty city. To wait at the red light even though you're the only one waiting to cross and there are no cars or trolleys or bikers - to wait, simply because there are several police officers standing there or sitting in cars, and you are too spooked out to cross against the light and attract attention from them, because you're wearing a long black coat and black boots, and didn't know the Nazis were doing that, too, when you set out that afternoon, and even though you're a pacifist bisexual female American Jew and most definitely not a Nazi, they could still give you trouble, cause they're the cops, and this day, the whole city belongs to them.

Mwhahaha!!

2008-01-18T14:41:00.001-08:00

A 4th grader challenged me to a chess game. It being Friday afternoon, and me feeling generous, I agreed. After all, what better way to send the girl off into her weekend than being able to say she beat the teacher? 'Cause I'm horrible at chess.

I won!

*evil laughter*

Poor girl. She couldn't even challenge me to a rematch, because it was time for me to leave.

Oh, yes. Schadenfreude.

Back from Ireland

2008-01-13T06:25:00.000-08:00

Ireland was fantastic. I have pictures posted on my Shutterfly site, but it is being obstinate and won't show the captions. I'm working on it. Here's a brief run-down of my time there:

Thursday: I got into Dublin late and took a bus to Galway. The drive was about four hours, but that's with several stops along the way. Driving straight through is closer the three hours. The hotel in Galway was lovely. A small guesthouse, very cozy. My room there was very comfortable, and there was even a palm tree outside the window! Ireland has an ideal climate for palm trees, it turns out. Especially in a small city like Galway, the effect is rather odd. It felt like Cape May meets Northampton meets Florida.

Friday: My main mission was to pick up my ticket for the concert. This meant going downtown. Wow! Galway is beautiful. My hotel was about fifteen minutes walking from center city. At first it was horrifying crossing streets. The Irish drive on the left side of the road and sit on the right side of the car. I kept looking in the wrong direction when I wanted to cross, or waiting for a car to wave me across the street only to look for the driver, puzzled as to why I couldn't see anyone. And oh! It's really scary watching a car turn and thinking, "Oh no.... he can't turn there.... that's the wrong lane.... shit shit shit.... don't crash... don'tcrashdon'tcrash!!" Once I made it, safe and sound, to the center of town, my breath was stolen. There is a river, the River Corrib, that runs through the middle of Galway and into a bay, and eventually the sea. And then the small cobble stone streets! And the rain! Did I mention the rain? I don't like rain, but in Galway it's unavoidable. It rains almost constantly, with short intermitences in which the sky clears and the sun shines. I wouldn't say that I enjoyed the rain in Galway, but it fit somehow. The concert itself that evening was scurmptious. As was the Guinness. :-)

Saturday: I spent Saturday walking around and exploring Galway. I would mention at this point that I am enamoured of the city, and can see a year abroad during MHC, but Jeanne already told me that was a no-go...

Sunday: My original plan for Sunday was to go on one or two guided tours of the Connemara countryside, but that fell through when I overslept. So, entrepid adventuress that I am, I stopped at a hotel downtown and asked the receptionist to recommend an activity for the day. She's from Limerick and suggested I take a bus down there. Nice city, good for a day trip, and the bus ride is about two hours of pretty countryside. Well... The bus trip sure was nice. There are small little stone walls held together by nothing but their weight, green hills and fields, cows and sheep and horses. Limerick was not as lovely. I was unimpressed and took the bus back pretty soon after, but because it was still light out, I got to enjoy the country side panorama again. When I got back to Galway, I bought tickets to go to the Aran Islands the following day.

Monday: I readied myself for my Island Excursion with rain gear. The forecast was, predictably, rain. And rain it did. Thank gosh I wore rain pants and a jacket, or else I would have been soaked by the time I reached the bus to Rosseveal, from where you get a ferry to the islands. In Rosseveal, the weather was still overcast and dark, but it had stopped raining. As we got closer to the islands, it became almost sunny. The sight of Ireland's coast drawing further away from us, the sky brightening, the rich purples and blues and greens... Wow. On Inis Mor, I ... drumroll please ... rented a bicycle! And actually biked, too! Crazy, huh? Me, voluntarilly *paying* for the privilage of riding a bike. I can't really describe Inis Mor. Beautiful. Old. Raw, somehow. I wanted to see all the famous things, especially the Dun Aonghasa cliffs and the fort. I couldn't figure out how to get up there, though, even with the maps. I saw where I needed to go, and I saw where I was and where the roads were, but somehow it just didn't work. So I spent the time biking and walking around the coast and further inland. I met a cat and a dog. That evening, back in Galway, I was far too tired to go out and celebrate New Year's Eve, so I watched reruns of Gaelic Football matches on TV. Gaelic Football is an incredible mix of soccer, football, rugby, and basketball.

Tuesday: Check out from Galway, bus to Dublin. Driving from Galway to Dublin is depressing. It starts out gorgeous. Those stone walls and green grass and animals... but about an hour and a half away from Dublin, the stone walls turn to wood fences, and then to chain-link. The grass turns yellow and brown and the animals are scarce. I was overwhelmed by this feeling of city. Big and dirty and impersonal. The only nice thing I saw in Dublin that day was the River Liffy, which runs right through the city. There are many bridges going over it, and at night they are all illuminated, making the river an ideal place to take an evening stroll. Anyways, the hotel in Dublin was a dump compared to the one in Galway. In retrospect, it really wasn't so bad, but it seemed like it at the time. On the plus side, it was cheap and safe, being located in the heart of the tourist-yuppie pub district. I noticed this a tiny bit in Galway, but in Dublin it was very widespread: security guards. Whether it was at a shopping center or at bars, they are everywhere. And not your elevator lobby security guards, either. Bouncer type guards. They weren't friendly, per se, but it made me feel very secure.

Wednesday: Walk around Dublin, especially the Viking/Medieval section of the city and Trinity College. I saw some of a rugby match at Trinity, but compared to Gaelic Football, it was boring. When I went back to the hotel, I noticed two things: 1) across the street was the Irish Film Institue, which was showing All About Eve, and 2) down the street was a Quaker Meeting House, which meets twice a week - Sunday morning and Thursday evening. So I bought a ticket to the movie, and made plans to attend meeting the following evening. All About Eve was wonderful and creepy and oh-so-good.

Thursday: I made my way down to Saint Stephen's Green. The weather was perfect: sunny, warm enough to sit outside. I sat and read for a while, and just wandered. The meeting that evening was nice. The room was small - it wasn't a meeting house, exactly, but rather a floor of a building with a meeting room and a small gathering area, etc. The benches were the same dark brown as the benches at home, and the carpet! The carpet was exactly the same as the carpet at Cherry Street. It was surreal. I felt myself slipping back into 14 years' worth of memories of Meeting. There were about five regulars there, and two other visitors. One was a student from Croatia, and the other was a young woman originally from New Jersey. She was very interesting. Talking to her, I felt like she must have walked out of a movie or a book. She was so... different, in a Luna Lovegood way. Very unique and dreamy and unattached to "normal" concerns, or at she interpreted these concerns differently than others would. Let's see... she comes from a small town, and loves music. She always instructed church music, and went to school for that. She decided after college that she wanted something new, and looked online for church music instruction positions available in Ireland. She found one in Dublin and moved here, about three years ago. Then, she fell in love with her boyfriend, but sadly lost her job and had to move back to the States after two years. Now she's back, on a holiday visa, and is looking for a job while living with an Indian family. She had to get a bus after the Meeting, so I walked with her. We walked past O'Connell Street, and she took me to get te best doughnuts in Dublin, made fresh right there. It had been raining, but it turned into this snow-rain. Not what I had wished for when I said I wanted to see O'Connell Street in the snow, but it was simply magical. I couldn't have wished for a better end to my stay in Dublin.

Coming back to Germany was a shock. It had snowed there, and the people are so very... German. It was deflating to return.

I want to learn Gaelic. It's an odd language, so unlike anything else. I heard it a lot in Galway and on Inis Mor, and I miss it. Compared to it, German is much prettier, but very plain. Gaelic wasn't ugly, but not pleasant, either. I still want to learn it. I'll be going back to Ireland at some point, I'm sure. I miss it a lot, even the Galway rain.

"Travelin' with just my thoughts and dreams..."

2007-11-21T10:29:00.000-08:00

I really like The Saw Doctors. Like, really like. Really like, as in, I'm going to Ireland to see them live.

Did you catch that?

I'M GOING TO IRELAND TO SEE THE SAW DOCTORS LIVE!

In case you're still lagging behind the times, I'm very excited. Renate can't fathom that I'm interested in going to Ireland alone in December. Here's why I am excited to be going to Ireland, alone, in December.

The Saw Doctors are ridiculously good. Thank you, Dad, for finding them. The come from Ireland, and are very patriotic in a people-loving way, and very critical of the Church, can be of the government, etc. They're similar to Bruce Springsteen like that. And we all know that I really like Bruce Springsteen. Give him an Irish accent, and yummy. The same way seeing Bruce in Philly or NJ is special, so is seeing the Saw Docs in Ireland, especially west Ireland. The concert I'm going to is in Galway, at the Warwick Hotel, where the photo on the cover of The Saw Docs' first album was taken. Also, the guys in the picture are the dads of the band members. Or that's what the guy at the record shop in Galway told me. Anyways, it's a rather historic place for the band, and is bound to be a stunning show. The music is also simply beautiful at times. You hear a song and you are given this moment. It's a wonderful gift of a moment when you form a picture in your mind of a small island in Ireland, or what the night-time sky looks like, or the construction that is slowly destroying traditional culture, or you hear Gaelic lyrics and the language whirls around you and it's mystic and old and so very intangible.
My Irish Lit course was inspiring. Of course I didn't sign up for Irish Lit thinking, "Oh, yay! Irish literature! And reading James Joyce at the end my Senior year when I can't be bothered to think about anything challenging! Whoopee!" But I wanted a class (a real class, not Writing About Film) with Wendy, and Shakespeare didn't fit my schedule, and so Irish Lit it was. And I'm so glad I took it. The stuff we read was beautiful and thought-provoking, but what sticks with me most are the images. The images of a couple of birds or flowers which struck a bored monk hundreds of years ago as particularly noteworthy. Images of Ireland's fierce, craggy west coast and the vicious sea and wind. You read Synge's "Riders to the Sea" and you can feel the breeze burning your face and taste the salt air. And of course Joyce. What images don't appeare there? It's all imagery. The scene from Joyce that I remember best is from Dubliners' "The Dead," as they are riding in a carriage through the city and it's snowing and they come to a statue near Trinity College and there is snow on the statue. It sounds miserably, really, late at night, snow, marriage issues, carriage, snow. I doubt I will enjoy the weather in Ireland, but this image won't leave me alone. I really don't like winter. I especially don't like snow in winter. That said, part of me would be happy to see it snow, just so I can see these images in the flesh. To make them a bit more there.
I'm ready to do this alone. Although I am pretty much "on my own" this year, I'm by no means alone. Yeah, I get lonely sometimes, but I'm not alone. I have my family, both here in Germany and back in Philly, my fellow FSJlers, etc. I just have that feeling that I'm ready to do something alone. I'm an only child, not the most social person, and being alone doesn't bother me too much, as long as I know that when I come back, I won't still be alone.

My itinerary so far is:

Dec. 27 (Thursday): Fly from Berlin to Dublin. I'll be arriving in Dublin around 5pm, and taking either a train or a bus to Galway. A train would be nicer, prettier, but it will most likely already be dark, so it won't make much of a difference. Check in at the Inishmore Guesthouse
in Galway. Apparently they speak German there. *shrug* I made the reservations in English and she had an Irish accent. It is about a five minute walk from downtown Galway and five mins from the beach and near the concert hall.

Dec. 28 (Friday): Make my way into downtown Galway to pick up my ticket for the concert. The guy at the record store is really nice. I called today to make sure I could pick up the tickets the day of the concert, and he said, "Oh yeah, you're the lonely heart from Germany!" So, yeah, pick up my one single ticket to a concert I'm flying internationally to go to. Maybe I am a lonely heart? The concert is later this evening at the Warwick Hotel.

Dec. 29-31 (Sat - Mon): These are the other days I will be in Galway. There's a lot I want to do, numero uno being Soak Up The City. Just.... be there. Walk around a lot. Drink an Irish beer. Eat some mussels. Specifically, I would enjoy:

Going to Claddagh, a small fishing village just outside of Galway, where the famed Claddagh ring has its origin.
Visiting the Aran Islands, which lie off the west coast of Ireland. This could be problematic, as one must take a coach to a small village about an hour from Galway, then a ferry trip to the islands, and all that in reverse. What with it being just after Christmas, I'm not sure how often they will be traveling -- both due to the holiday and the weather.
Going to the Market. There's supposed to be a big market every Saturday, and I'm hoping it happens despite winter.
There is at least one Gaelic-language theater in Galway. I would very much like to go see a show there. Not that I would understand a word, but it would be very lovely, I'm sure.

Jan. 1 (Tuesday): Check out of the hotel and travel back to Dublin, where I will check myself into the River House Hotel in the Temple Bar district of the city.

Jan. 2-3 (Wed - Thurs): These are my two main days in Dublin, along with whatever is left of the day on Jan 1st. I'm not sure what I want to do in Dublin. Soak Up The City is a good start. I'll be doing some more research over the next month, but some sightseeing, some wandering, some eating. It can't be all that bad.

Jan. 4 (Friday): Leave bright and early for my 11:40am flight back to Berlin.

Whoosh! When I write it out like that, it suddenly seems like a lot more time and details than I thought it was. Not to mention that, although I feel ready to do this trip alone, I am freaking out about the organizational tidbits. I am really nervous about missing planes, getting the wrong plane, making reservations correctly, etc. But it looks like everything is going to be alright. Now I just need to do it.

Home

2007-11-16T13:30:00.000-08:00

Slowly, but surely, I'm transforming things here into something like home. It's both nice, and also very sad. I ordered a cookbook the other day, and had a moment of homesickness -- not I'm-so-far-from-home homesickness, but I'm-on-my-own-now homesickness. Of course I will always have my family, wonderful wonderful family, but I'm here now, and then college, and then... life. And that's all me, not us. I bought tupperware and ziploc baggies and jars and candlestick holders and extension cords. I have a bag in the freezer for veggie ends. I bought these things. I have them. Things that scream HOME to me, what I know a home needs. I need them.

This evening I made borscht and improvised a Shabbas ceremony. I lit candles and had some wine and ate a roll. I even found all the prayers online and muddled through the transliterations. Mom asked if I'm going all Jewish on her. Maybe. Possibly. Certainly a bit. But a lot of it is that "Jewish" is so very much the opposite of "German," at least how I associate the experiences. Of course I don't mean there is no German Jew or German Jewish culture or history. But for me, Germany is the place where people ask me to explain things about Judaism that I don't understand. Where I'm somehow the Jewish expert who explains what a menorah is when we visit the Jewish Museum. Where I'm the one who knows what Channuka is. And at home, Jewish is family. Shabbas candles are Passover dinner at Grandmom Rose's when she and Grandpa Jack lived in the apartment on Belmont Avenue. Shabbas is when I'm at Jeanne and CA's on Friday night and their beautiful challah cloth and backyard table. Borscht is my mom's kitchen and warmth and things we cook so much of that we freeze it for months before we've eaten it all.

So, yeah. Jewish. Homesick. It all comes together somehow.

grumble

2007-11-16T00:20:00.000-08:00

It's snowing. Not nearly enough to stick, but still. Yuck.

See the little pufferbellies all in a row?

2007-11-14T05:33:00.000-08:00

Morgens um sieben,
unten am Bahnhof,
stehen die Züge
alle in einer Reihe.
Kommt der Schaffner,
dreht am Rädchen,
und whooosh!
Alle sind vorbei.

Only not today. The train drivers (is there a real English word for that? Engineer, says LEO) are striking again. I live right next to the train tracks, and can hear the trains coming and going. Today I've heard two. Normally it's constant. I like it. It's like home and you're never lonely: I don't have a pet, so I get to think: "Ooooh there's my train! Good train!" (Shush... I miss my pooks. Now if only they would occasionally roll over off the tracks like Gordy, everything would be perfect.)

It's the biggest strike in the history of Die Deutsche Bahn, the German Railway, which has been around since 1994. And what's more, they've been striking on and off for the past month. It's intense. Regional and long-distance trains aren't running. Commercial and freight trains aren't running. It's bad, or great, depending on what side you look at it from. But what gets me is that France's transport unions are also striking, and it's all over the BBC and when you search for "train strike" on the NYT, you also come up with articles about France. The German strike is mentioned as little side story sometimes, within the articles. But no, let's not write about a strike that is just as intense, simply because it isn't inspired by the president's pension plans. Zum kotzen.

But in happy news: I moved! I have my own room! That I can keep until I leave! Can you tell I'm excited? I moved! And I can stay!

My room is...

...on Hasselbachplatz, the big yuppie bar/restaurant neighborhood. The bars and stuff don't matter too much to me, except in that there's a nice amount of street traffic noise, which makes it just like home. There are several trolley lines and Tobi nearby.
...close to the railway, so I hear trains all the time and get to lie awake at night wondering who in their right minds would be traveling so late at night, or if they're simply cargo trains, etc.
...12 sq. meters, or about 130 square feet.
...part of a 3-persom WG. The other two are students.
...in an Altbau on the top floor. There is no elevator, but we have access to the roof, which is kinda a trade off, if you squint funny and forget I don't like heights.

The room is a bit under the weather looking. It needs some love. So, I'm gonna love it. Lutz and Renate recently did a marathon painting of their house and have a lot of terracotta color left over, which looks absolutely beautiful in their kitchen. It's so warm and cozy, especially with their dark brown kitchen table next to it. Copycat time! We're going to be painting my walls terracotta and I'm going tomorrow to order a dark brown carpet.

Do you know how hard it is to find a dark brown carpet that is not industrial-office thin and hard and scratchy? A nice warm dark brown carpet that is a bit thicker and you can dig your toesies into? In Magdeburg, it's near impossible. Maybe it's the whole German brown-taboo thing, what with the Nazis having worn it as a uniform color and all. Maybe. But I really doubt it. Which makes me wonder why my dream carpet is almost nowhere to be found. I should be able to buy my dreams everywhere, right? I'm American, damn it. I demand my dreams in every store, world-wide.

PHOTOS

2007-10-18T11:17:00.000-07:00

Yes, I actually have been taking (some) photos.

http://sookingermany.shutterfly.com/

If that doesn't work for some reason, let me know.

-Sarah

Seminars and Berlins and Apartments, oh my!

2007-10-18T08:23:00.000-07:00

So much to share! Where to start? How about with...

...My First Seminar!
All the FSJlers (people who are doing this year-long thing) must complete five weeks of seminars, three of which are predetermined (intro, middle, and closing). The other two are chosen from a list of about eight assorted topics. Because I am in ORFIDE: Orientierungen Finden, Identitäten Entwickeln, a special project, I went with twelve other ORFIDElers to our Intro Seminar.

The seminar took place in Niederndodeleben, or Lower Dodeleben (and yes, there is a Dodeleben as well as a Higher Dodeleben), and I was not looking forward to spending a week with strangers in some village. Neither was anyone else, it turned out. But, WOW! It was amazing. We had a lot of fun, learned some stuff, and are currently arranging a time to all get together before our next joint seminar in Febuary. Here's a rundown of our week:

Monday: This was our "get-to-know-eachother" day. We played a lot of games, learned a lot of names, etc. It was fun. Even the people who said they don't like those team-building activities enjoyed themselves.
Tuesday: We had a whole day devoted to "Project Management," an important topic as we are all supposed to have a project. However, it was far too much information for one day, and we were all glad when it was over.
Wednesday: Because ORFIDE has to do with discrimination and integration, our seminar wouldn't have been complete without a day given to this topic. Karamba lead the day-long seminar about diversity, focusing mostly on immigrants and our experiences with them, methods of intraveneing when someone is being racist, etc. Karamba comes from Senegal and has been in Germany for about 20 years. It was very interesting to hear his stories, both about his time in Germany as well as in Senegal.
Thursday: A lot of us will need to use cameras and such to document out projects. That's why we went to Offener Kanal (public TV), where Tobi did his FSJ last year. Tobi had written a program for the day, but unfortunately couldn't be there himself due to Uni. I'm sure the program he wrote was brilliant, but we didn't use it and so the day was pretty unorganized and I don't think I learned too much. It was fun, though. My group went around the block interviewing immigrants about their experiences in Germany. Thursday evening we had a movie night. I had forgotten that popcorn in Germany is sweet. Ick. We started watching "Mein Fürher," a paradoy about Hitler. It could have been very good, but it wasn't. I went to bed halfway through.
Friday: We had a very good and quick workshop on writing press releases in the morning, and then we did a short evaluation of the seminar. Then it was time to go home.

Some other important notes about the seminar:

The food was terrific. We had rolls with butter, cold cuts, jam, etc. for breakfast along with eggs. Lunch was always warm - pizza, casserole, fish, etc - and dinner was bread with cold cuts, potato salad, or something else cold. We also got coffee & cake every day! Yummy.
The cat was adorable. Still very young and kittenish. She didn't mind being held and goggled at by all of us. Once she drank some coffee... and was hyperactive for the entire morning...
The group coordinator was pretty okay in the end. We had all been a bit worried that Pascal didn't care about us, was unorganized, etc. This wasn't the case at all, and we're all sad now that he is only there for another month or so. :-( But Janett is very nice and I'm looking forward to working with her.

Berlin
I met Emalyn and her host family in Berlin last Saturday. It was such a strange feeling, standing there with her. Us! Together! In Berlin!! Not so very long ago, people risked their lives on journies by ship in order to get anywhere. Now, we press a few buttons, wait in a few lines, and poof! We're across the ocean. Crazy.

My Living Situation
So, I'm currently living in the absolutely beautiful room that belongs to Susanna, a friend of Johanna's. The problemo is, it's only available until Febuary, and the big rush for new rooms isn't until March. I got a phone call a few days ago from an apartment I had looked at. They originally decided to take in a stray Bulgarian because he couldn't speak any German, and I had this room availble if I needed it. Well, things didn't work out with the Bulgarian, and so they want me! Yay!! Sorta. I'm working on the guilt issues of moving out of Susanna's room so soon after I moved in. The other place isn't nearly as beautiful, but the people there are very cool and I can see myself enjoying nine months with them. The down side: it's on the top floor, and the builing has no elevator.

The School
The school moved while I was gone for my seminar. I'm so very lucky not to have been there for that week. Yeesh. But now that we're all moved, there's plenty to do with unpacking, reconstructing shelves, etc. Julia (another FSJler) and I spent two days repotting plants. I hate plants now. I'm thinking about going vegetarian again just to get some revenge. As for my duties, and if they'll change, I am hopeful. I told Uta, the director, that I needed to speak with her about it, and she said she also needed to address it because it shouldn't be like it is now. So, next week when she's back we'll have a little chat.

Updates

2007-09-27T13:12:00.001-07:00

Hi all,

Sorry I haven't updated lately, but gosh - I had no idea I'd be this exhausted from working! My respect for lower school teachers and kitchen staff is climbing exponentially.

Speaking of respect, a good deal of the kids here don't have any. Because the school is a "freie Schule" (literally, a "free school"), the concept of boundries is rather blurred. The kids have many responsibilities and liberties, and on the whole manage well. The teachers, however, are split on what being a "teacher" here means. Does it mean that one needs to teach, actively, at a chalkboard? Does it mean one needs to set an adult example, or can one blend in with the kids? Does it mean one is an authority figure, or rather is one there to guide the children, without imposing oneself as an authority?

No one really seems to know. Or, rather, they all know, but no one agrees. That results in kids not having any set boundries - they are different for every teacher, and there is no one standard to fall back to and say, "Okay, you're right; that was out of line." The kids are often very fresh and speak to the teachers in ways I would never imagine being tollerated back home, or even in other schools here. As an intern, I (along with all the other interns) get the brunt of this, but the regular classroom teachers deal with it also. They also do not show respect towards each other, or towards the building and supplies/etc. It's unbelievable.

Today I was with the Einsteine (a group of 3rd/4th graders), and we start the period off with circle, and the teacher, Doreen, spoke for a good ten minutes about respect, and how lately the kids have displayed a distinct lack thereof. She mentioned that in the new building (we're moving!), there will be accomodations for students with physical handicaps, as currently the school only has 'normal' kids as well as those who have ADHD , ADD, or other assorted learning differences. This raised the question of, "How does one behave around those who are handicapped, whether it is physical or cognitive, or otherwise?" They had a good discussion about it, with all students asking questions and answering them, sharing experiences, etc., and then I went off to do English with five of them. We were reading a story aloud, and it became Leon S.'s turn. Leon has a very difficult time with reading and speaking, let alone in another language. I convinced him to give it a go, and he did. Of course he couldn't do it very well, and the other kids knew this full well. What did they do? Break out laughing. FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER THE CONVERSATION ABOUT THIS EXACT TOPIC.

Yes, I really am grateful for my 14 years of Quaker education.

School

2007-09-04T08:24:00.000-07:00

Monday was my first day at work (strange thinking of "at school" as "at work"), and I'm settling in well, or as well as one can after two days. Ramona is in charge of the kitchen, and she is wonderful with helping me figure things out. Kitchen work here is very easy; as most of the food is delivered, there is little in the way of culinary preparation.

Duties include:

Dish washing -- there is a super cool dishwasher: takes four minutes to wash, and heats up to 85ºC, and so when the dishes are taken out, they dry themselves.
Setting tables for lunch
Keeping on top of tea, water, juice, and milk
Making sure kids at least try lunch; they do not need to finish it, but they must at least taste
Preparing and overseeing afternoon snack

There are several other interns at the school, and all are very nice. Anne is studying to be a social worker, and Angelina is finishing up her training as a lower school teacher. We all seem to have more time on our hands than one would think, especially when working at a school. Not that we're complaining, mind.

Now it's Wednesday and I'm exhausted. Normally, I'm used to two options for Wednesdays:

Summer/Holidays: my own schedule, relaxed, generally not many responsibilities
School Year: Meeting for Worship during school day.

Now that I'm working, which is comparable to being in school (set schedule, responsibilities, lots of loud children), I'm noticing that the enforced pause of MFW is really very important. Even if the time is not used for reflection or spirituality, but rather napping or mentally reviewing statistic formulas, it is still 40mins of necessariy quiet and physical calm.

There is a monthly meeting here in Magdeburg, which roughly 10 of Germany's 500 Quakers attend. Although I enjoy the meeting, it's difficult for me to settle there; something about a room full of 200 diverse, spirited teenagers all sitting still is very powerful and moving in a way that a cozy, genuinely religious gathering is not. I still remember clearly Meeting during Pre-K. Because we were too young to go to the Meeting House, Tr. Jean led our own mini-MFW in the classroom. We sat in a circle, and in the middle she placed a jar filled with sand, glitter, rocks, and shells, which she had shaken up. We watched the contents settle and, as they did, so did we.

Visit to the School

2007-08-29T05:47:00.001-07:00

Today I went to meet with Frau Uta Riecke, the director of the Freie Schule Magdeburg. She is a very nice person, and introduced me to the rest of the staff, who are all equally kind. I'm looking forward to working with them for the year, though am a bit surprised at my duties.

The Job: When I was asked by FSM if wished to spend my year there, I was given the distinct impression that I was to be teaching English. I will be, but not very often. Deciphering my schedule is tricky, but it looks like I will only be teaching English twice a week. Most of my time during the normal school day will be spent in the kitchen. Which would be fine -- if that's what I had signed up for. Though I won't be alone bemoaning my fate: Tom is an 18/19yr old guy doing an FSJ just like I am. I'm not sure if he is going through the same agency as I am (Landesvereinigung kulturelle Kinder- und Jugendbildung, or LKJ), but be that as it may, he is also spending the majority of his time in the kitchen. My afternoon will be spent watching the kids while the play, etc.

Uta (everyone uses the informal du at FSM) asked me to teach a course once a week, on pretty much anything. This was rather upsetting for me, as thinking about it made me realize that I don't have many marketable skills of the sort you teach to a group of kids aged 6-10. Somehow they just wouldn't appreciate the talent it takes to make a perfect espresso or scan Latin poetry on sight. I am considering the following topics:

American culture - But where to start? I only know about a tiny sliver of American culture.
Conflict resolution - It's been a long time since I had conflict resolution way back in 4th grade, but I remember the basics, and can brush up on more.

...and that's it. So, if you think of anything I could teach, then please let me know.

My Hours:

Monday: 11:00-4:30pm
Tuesday: 10:30-5:00pm
Wednesday: 10:00-5:00pm
Thursday: 10:00-4:30pm
Friday: 10:00-5:00pm

The First Week (plus some)

2007-08-28T05:21:00.000-07:00

Hello!

Because I can't promise to be online, or to email everyone with every update, I shall do my very best to update this blog as needed.

I arrived in Germany a little over a week ago, and have been fairly busy since. Here's a rundown of the important stuff:

Saturday, 18 August: I finally got to Germany, landing in Berlin at 10:00am. I left Philly on Friday, flying from Philadelphia to Boston, and then to Dublin, and from there to Berlin. Two nights ago I woke up around 2am, panicked that I hadn't gotten my passport stamped in Berlin. I remembered clearly going through customs in Dublin, but in Berlin? Nope. I got off the plane, walked down a bunch of stairs, got my bags, and then went to leave. I didn't go through customs because there was a sign directing people in one direction if they had anything to declare, and in another direction if they didn't. I didn't, so I simply left. No guard, nada. So, I didn't get my passport stamped. Right? Well, no. I did get it stamped, which I know because I have a nice stamp from Berlin Schönefeld in my passport. But I don't remember it.

Anyhow, Tobi and Luise (host brother and current roommate, respectively) picked me up in Berlin, and we promptly headed for IKEA, where I became the proud owner of two fluffy orange towels and a black fleece blanket. Then, from IKEA to Magdeburg, an hour and a half drive. Once here I got settled into my room. I will have pictures up once I get the cable for my camera.

My room: I have a room in a Wohnheitsgemeinschaft, or WG for short. A WG is a "residence community" - suite style living: everyone has his or her own room, with a shared bathroom and kitchen. The WG I am living in belongs to Johanna (host sister), Luise, Jan, and Markus. Because Markus is away until October, I have his room until then. Its a nice-sized room, maybe 15 square meters (*shrug* I'm bad at estimating this stuff), white walls, wood floor, big window, and a desk that I think Markus built himself. I now have some shelves for clothes, but other than that the room is pretty empty. I'm not buying anything for a room until I figure out arrangements for after Markus comes back - why buy a bookcase when the room I rent already has one?

The Great Room Search: WGs are very common in Germany; most students live either in a dorm or in a WG. University's fall term begins soon, and so there's a lot of moving about and people looking for rooms and rooms being offered etc. I have been to two WGs so far. The first was icky icky icky. The kitchen was dark: painted deep red and black. Instead of mineral water bottles in the corner, there were bottles of Jägermeister. And they smoke in the kitchen! In the kitchen! I understand smoking being allowed on the balcony, but in the kitchen? Where food is kept and prepared and eaten? Oh, ick.

The second WG was the opposite: bright greens, oranges, and yellows. I met with two of the people there, one who will be staying and the one whose room I'm hoping to take. Both were wonderful, open and charming. Two of the girls who live there study Sport und Technik, which is what Johanna studies, so they know one another. The man who will be staying is already working, doing something involving energy. The room here is smaller, about 12 square meters. It comes with a loft bed and a wardrobe. The rent (including utilities, internet, and landline) is 180 euros/month, less than I was expecting to pay. In short, it is perfect for me. I will find out soon whether or not I can have the room. In the mean time, I'm still looking.

The school: This year I will be working at the Freie Schule Magdeburg, a Montessori-inspired independent school, thirty minutes, walking, away from my current room. In Montessori education, kids are in classrooms of mixed ages. The children I will be working with are between six and ten years old. The school itself is in a very interesting part of the city. Encircling the school are many Plattenbauhäuser, of which perhaps a third are deserted. There are open, vacant lots, etc. In the middle of this, there is a children's recreation center, where they have a brick oven, in which they make fresh bread every Friday. There's some junglegym stuff, and a little zoo with geese, chickens, and bunnies. Next to this is a Barfußpfad, or Barefoot park, that I can't wait to try out when it opens after summer holidays are over. There's also a bicycle repair shop, which I don't plan on visitng. :-) That said, if you come outside of these vacant lots and Plattenbauhäuser, you are in a very well-to-do neighborhood. So, it will be interesting to work there and see how the two communities intereact, if at all. Tomorrow I am meeting with the head of school, and will hopefully get more details about my actual duties, etc.

Frazzled: In preparation for this year, I made a very miserable trip to NYC and the German Consulate, where I attempted to apply for a residence permit. I was told to wait until I got to Germany and simply apply in Magdeburg, and was given a list of what I needed to have for my application:

Application forms (2)
Pictures (2)
Valid passport and copies (2)
Proof of employment (2)
Proof of sufficient funds to cover expenses
Certificate of Good Conduct (2)
Proof of health insurance (2)
Proof of living accommodation (2)
Registration as a resident of Magdeburg

Okay. That's fine. I got as much as possible together in Philly before leaving, and that was relatively painless, if not a little mind-boggling: The Philadelphia police, due to security concerns, cannot fingerprint applicants for the Certificate of Good Conduct. One must fingerprint oneself. Huh.

In Germany, I got a letter from Jan saying that I have a room here, and I registered myself as a resident. I also had to get biometric photos, since our normal US Passport photos aren't good enough. At last, at last, at last, I had everything. I had copies, although they were not notarized, and originals, and so I set out to the Bürgerbüro to apply. The line moved quickly and soon I was called.

Everything went fine. So fine, in fact, that they didn't need the copies. They didn't need the Certificate of Good Conduct, didn't even ask about it. They didn't need two pictures, or two copies of the application form. Yee gads. They didn't even keep anything! The woman just read over some of my papers, and gave them back. The only thing they kept was the application form itself. *grumbles* My residence permit is only valid until the end of July, because I arrived in August and she could only grant it for one year. So, I'll need to leave Germany, and then come back in, get my passport stamped and be here as a tourist for August 2008. Yeah...

That's all for now, and I'm off to read more of Tintenblut, the second book in Cornelia Funke's Tinten trilogy (in English: Inkheart and Inkspell, on Amazon). Visiting another WG tonight.