So, I survived Midterms, (actually I think I did pretty well on them!) and today in a few hours I will be jetting off to Paris for the week. I have to admit, I am pretty excited. The bitter Siberian cold has finally broken here--it's been in the mid-forties (which feels practically balmy) and occasionally one will even see the sun. Obviously, I have to be careful when this happens, I'm so used to the gloom and clouds that I'm not entirely sure I won't crumble to ash when faced with direct sun exposure. Actually, my enjoyment of the great weather has been somewhat hindered by a nasty head cold I've contracted. I went to the Apoteke and the guy has me taking 6 pills a day for it so it better break soon. I really hope it doesn't interfere with my trip. Nothing says, "Paris Je t'aime" like a coughing fit in front of the Eiffel tower right?
Friday night because of my cold I stayed in and rested. But yesterday, the weather felt so warm and I was so sick of being cooped up--which scares me because I think I'm adopting the German concept of "fresh air"--I got on the S-Bahn and headed to the city center with absolutely no idea of what I was going to do. I recently got a camera that works, so I intended to take some pictures of the street around IES and Museum Island, but that was about it. And then since I was by Museum Island, I was like, well, I guess I better go to a museum. So I called Sam to see if he wanted to meet me, since he lives right in the area, and he did, so he and I headed to the "Neues Museum" to see the bust of Nefertiti. It was the most amazingly beautiful breathtaking thing I have ever seen in my life. I've seen it so many times on the history channel or in books or whatever, to see something that old, that famous, and still that pretty--it really takes your breath away. Also, there were a bunch of mummys and hieroglyphics and other really impressive stuff. My favorite was the jewelry...I try to tell myself it's because it's so intricate and I can imagine the lives of the people who would have worn it. I secretly suspect I might just be a Jewish Princess though. I tried to take pictures to accurately capture some of the artifacts, but my picture taking ability is poor at best...I wish I had a knack for it. Alas...
So after the museum, I came home and fixed dinner, then Steve and Sam and Kyle and I met up in Charlotteberg at the "Haus Der 100 Biere" which, true to it's name, does have 100 beers. I was partial to Satan, a Belgian beer that was 8% alcohol and so thick that it felt like drinking dissolved bread, which actually I mean as a positive. But hey, I mean, it was no Naty Light or PBR or anything. It was a really chill night just talking and hanging out with the guys, which I always love to do. We talked about Paris, which most of us have already visited, and what we're excited to do and what we're not. I really want to see the Musee d'Orsay. I have visited the Louvre, and it was beautiful, don't get me wrong, but I prefer Van Gough and Impressionist work anyway, so I'm excited to see that. I also want to check out the Rodin museum. It will be so niiiiiiiiiice to have more free time to explore, last time with Mr. Jordan every SECOND was planned, so this time I'm pretty stoked that I have whole days just to roam around Paris as I please. And yes Charisse, I'll have a chocolate croissant for you!
Au Revoir my loves, I'm taking my computer so I'll try to keep everyone updated and I'll also try to make it more interesting than this post was. It's first thing in the morning and the cat is scratching my head...it's not conducive to the usual masterpieces I create. Bon Voyage!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Dreary Wednesday
I started this week in a fantastic mood. I was coming off of a great weekend in Stockholm and very much looking forward to the Paris trip this Sunday. Also, this is Midterm week, and I know it makes me abnormal in a lot of ways to say this, but I love exams! I usually do really well at them, I have very effective study skills that allow me to study for short periods of time, and then I get the rest of the week chock full of extra free-time and no homework. And on top of everything else, teachers seem to think we're going to buckle under the stress of exams and go postal, so they are super super nice. Like today, my identity teacher brought us chocolate. Why? Just because. Seriously, I love exams. Also, the weather on Monday seemed to be taking a turn for the better. It was a balmy 44 degrees farenheit and sunny. I've seen the sun maybe 3 times since I've been here, and even though I'm not someone who covets and craves sun time (I'm a pasty pasty vampire), I can't deny it lifts ones spirits to be in the sunshine after dreary winter weather. So I was feeling good all around. I had one exam Monday, and none on Tuesday so I devoted the time to wondering around and seeing the city, just walking, since it's been so cold that such an activity has previously been impossible.
Bleakness quickly emerged however. My camera is broken. Well, not broken per se, because it works, only for 2 minutes and then the battery dies, no matter how long it's been plugged in and charging. No big deal, I thought, I'll just go to the electronic store and get a new battery. I did that Monday. Turns out it wasn't the battery. Takes a beautiful picture, then 2 minutes later can't turn it on. So okay, I reasoned, must be the charger. Yesterday I went to Saturn to get the charger. The guy told me that I didn't need a new charger, just to get an adapter for the plug. In short, he thought I was so stupid that I didn't realize the American plugs didn't fit into the European ports and as a result I thought the charger was broken. I had to assure him like six hundred times I wasn't a complete moron. And even then I was like, "Es ist kapputt" (it is broken) and he's like, "are you sure?" No, actually I haven't bothered to check. Of course I'm sure? Did you think I hauled my ass here for fun or something? So after this whole song and dance he doesn't have it. Try this other store location. I go there. No dice. They say, go to the actual Sony store (I had been going to Saturn, the German Best Buy basically). So today I went there. This charger for the particular model of camera I have doesn't exist. It was discontinued. WHY WHY WHY?! I swear the electronic people do this on purpose so if one thing goes wrong you have to buy an entire new product. Like you can't replace ipod batteries, if it dies you need a new ipod. Not to mention, what are they, like on the 3 millionth model? Each with it's own catchy indie rock commercial. Fascists. Anyway, I ended up just buying a new Sony camera because you can't go to Paris and not take pictures right? And I don't even know if disposable cameras exist anymore. So I dropped a bunch of money on a something that should have been easily fixed. Damn it, I think my family is cursed with cameras. Jeanie went through like 7 on her travels, mine was stolen when I lent it to my mom, this one broke... someone doesn't want our memories recorded for posterity's sake. I'll tell you that much.
So, my mood, which was jubilant this morning because I received a lovely care package from Charisse...has subsided to more of a dull cynicism. Which, all things considered, is probably pretty good for me. I have another exam here at 6:15, for Literature and Film, which will no doubt be an epic production, but afterward our teacher has kindly agreed to take us out for beer. Even though, let's be honest, I'm not that keen on spending even MORE time with her, beer is beer. And German beer is delicious. :-)
Bleakness quickly emerged however. My camera is broken. Well, not broken per se, because it works, only for 2 minutes and then the battery dies, no matter how long it's been plugged in and charging. No big deal, I thought, I'll just go to the electronic store and get a new battery. I did that Monday. Turns out it wasn't the battery. Takes a beautiful picture, then 2 minutes later can't turn it on. So okay, I reasoned, must be the charger. Yesterday I went to Saturn to get the charger. The guy told me that I didn't need a new charger, just to get an adapter for the plug. In short, he thought I was so stupid that I didn't realize the American plugs didn't fit into the European ports and as a result I thought the charger was broken. I had to assure him like six hundred times I wasn't a complete moron. And even then I was like, "Es ist kapputt" (it is broken) and he's like, "are you sure?" No, actually I haven't bothered to check. Of course I'm sure? Did you think I hauled my ass here for fun or something? So after this whole song and dance he doesn't have it. Try this other store location. I go there. No dice. They say, go to the actual Sony store (I had been going to Saturn, the German Best Buy basically). So today I went there. This charger for the particular model of camera I have doesn't exist. It was discontinued. WHY WHY WHY?! I swear the electronic people do this on purpose so if one thing goes wrong you have to buy an entire new product. Like you can't replace ipod batteries, if it dies you need a new ipod. Not to mention, what are they, like on the 3 millionth model? Each with it's own catchy indie rock commercial. Fascists. Anyway, I ended up just buying a new Sony camera because you can't go to Paris and not take pictures right? And I don't even know if disposable cameras exist anymore. So I dropped a bunch of money on a something that should have been easily fixed. Damn it, I think my family is cursed with cameras. Jeanie went through like 7 on her travels, mine was stolen when I lent it to my mom, this one broke... someone doesn't want our memories recorded for posterity's sake. I'll tell you that much.
So, my mood, which was jubilant this morning because I received a lovely care package from Charisse...has subsided to more of a dull cynicism. Which, all things considered, is probably pretty good for me. I have another exam here at 6:15, for Literature and Film, which will no doubt be an epic production, but afterward our teacher has kindly agreed to take us out for beer. Even though, let's be honest, I'm not that keen on spending even MORE time with her, beer is beer. And German beer is delicious. :-)
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Stockholm Syndrome!
To My loyal blog readers (and those who casually happen upon it):
I know it's been forever since I last blogged, which is actually a very positive sign for my state of mind. It means instead of merely writing about Berlin I have been out truly enjoying it. I don't want to leave! And.......without further ado, here I continue my blog. Stockholm baby!
As most of you know, this weekend, I went to Stockholm with Evelyn, a girl from the program who is in my German class. Now, I wanted this weekend actually to go to Edinburgh, my interest in which was based on the fact that the two things I know that came from Scotland are awesome, 1) The band "The Fratellis" 2) Braveheart. Baam! Buuuut I couldn't find anyone who wanted to go to Scotland with me, and due to my lovely physical appearance, trusting nature, and ability to be easily tricked traveling by myself might be the worst idea ever. Still, I really wanted to get out of Berlin and take advantage of Europe being small (which it really isn't, all Americans think it's just like a bigger Epcot Center but actually it takes forever to get from place to place, like it's 7 hours or so by train to Munich, maybe longer) and travel. Stockholm has never really been my idea of a great time (or in my ideas that prominently at all for that matter) but I figured, what the hell, and asked Evelyn if I could tag along with her to Stockholm, a trip she had already planned. We left for the airport on Thursday Night at about 7, our flight took off at 9:30, and by about 10:45 we had landed in Stockholm. YAY! Just kidding. My first overwhelming feeling was kind of panic. I have been some place where I didn't speak A WORD of the language. A WORD. Even if I went to Japan I know how to say "hi" and "thank you" and things like that. But not a single Swedish word. Oh and there currency is insane. Typical price for a meal 89 SEK. What is that?! I literally was afraid when we landed and I bought my bus ticket for 180 SEK that I had agreed to spend like $800 or something. Yeah and I had to buy a bus ticket because the Stockholm airport to which Ryan Air flies into (the no frills airline) is ONE AND A HALF hours from the city itself. ONE AND A HALF. So Evelyn and I pile on to the bus, and we see there is a movie playing, and the movie is "Saturday Night Fever", always, in my experience, a bad omen. Finally we reach the central station. We go to Central Terminal, already having decided instead of taking a cab to our hostel like chickens, we are just going to go balls out and take the train. I have a terrible sense of direction, as you all know, but I am EXCELLENT at navigating subways. I don't know why it's ever hard for people, but it's super easy to me. I looked at a map, saw we were going on the red line to someplace starting with an S, and bought a 72 pass card and descended with Evelyn to the platform. Um. Track 1: heading to Skaaaardsnald, Track 2: Slussel Track 3: Soobgenfug. No colors. Damn. So we ask someone, and he's like oh you want the T-Station, that's not here. Cool, where is it? Down the bridge on the left. We walk outside, there are 3 bridges. Again, Damn. When we finally find the T-Station like 20 minutes later I was so excited we did a picture of me in front of it making a T with my arms.
When we finally got to the hostel, it was probably 12:45, and it was a door on the side of a drugstore with ACCO HOSTEL written on it in black lettering, like the kind I used in high school for my cheerleading garage door sign. It did NOT look legit. And, there was no check-in. They sent you an e-mail prior to departing with the door codes to get into the hostel, into your room and then they gave us a bed number each. No front desk of any kind. So we get inside, enter our codes to our room, and the room already has people sleeping in it, and is pitch black. There are 5 Ikea bunk beds with white sheets. THAT'S IT. Weirder, when I first open the door the first thing we see is a skinny, hair guy, with black curly hair, laying on the bed face down, with gray tighty-whiteys and his ass (crack and all) in the air. Evelyn and I threw down our stuff and just decided to find a good bar on the hostel street to go to. We changed and got ready to go, and on our way out we bumped into this group of Italians hanging out by the bathroom, and we talked to them and asked them where was good to go get a drink. That's the great thing about Hostels, everyone is super friendly and from everywhere and willing to chat. They gave us some tips and we set off. We walk down and the street to where they told us to go, and unfortunately it closed at 1:00 and it's like 1:05 now. So I'm like, shit, okay, what now? So this group of guys pass by and I just asked them and they're like "we're going to this cocktail bar here, wanna come?" so we went there and hung out, and to a club afterward and then crashed back at the hostel.
I woke up Friday morning to the sound of heavily male voices in heavily-accented English. This is always a good sign in my experience. I am programed to be attracted like a moth to the flame to any sort of UK accent. So I walked over to the other side of the room and introduced myself, and starting chatting with them. It was a group of like 7 of them from Edinburgh, and I'm like, great, Edinburgh came to us! So while Evelyn went to take her lovely lovely communal shower, I was talking with the guys, and asking them if they would recommend visiting Edinburgh. And they were so funny. The combination of the accents, plus sarcasm, plus them being attractive guys was pretty potent. Like they told me they had tried to convince this American girl they met the other day in a club that Scotland was really ass backwards, so they told her they only just like 10 years ago got telephones and electricity and that their currency, "the Scottish Pound" was a pound of rocks with numbers painted on them. And then we were chatting about the hostel, which had this strict 50 SEK (like 5 Euros, SEK is 10x the Euro, and then 5 Euros is about 7.5$) for sleeping in the wrong numbered bed and also said, "no drinking, no smoking, no parties" on the door, so in heavily accented Scottish one of the guys did an impression of a Polish (because he does a good Polish accent not because anyone was in fact Polish) accent saying, "You want have fun, 100 SEK fine! You open window, 200 SEK! First day of breath is free and then you must pay 1 SEK per breath!" And then the originally curly haired guy that was the first person I saw with his crack in the air, was like, "yeah last night we went to McDonalds and ordered 100 cheeseburgers. And the guy was like, 'what do you really want' and I was like, 'I'm sorry I'm being a dick. I want 100 cheeseburgers." And the night before apparently one of the other guys, Sean, was doing Mitch Headberg impressions, really badly, and it was just so much fun. My ribs hurt from laughing. And they were just like that, loud, funny, and dirty.
So, Evelyn and I went to go get breakfast and go to museums and we told the guys we'd meet up with them later and go out together. And we went to the Vasa Museum which is this great 17th century ship that sunk in Stockholm harbor and was excavated 333 years later and since the water was brackish it was preserved really well and so now the whole ship is displayed at this museum and it's really really cool and Evelyn and I took about a million pictures. It also had the skeletal remains of some of the passengers aboard that died when it sunk and they reconstructed their faces using wax. It was so amazing. Oh, but the best part was the Sweden: 1628 exhibit which was supposed to show what life in Sweden at the time the ship sunk was like. And it had little vignettes staged with phrases like, "Olaf negotiates with Sven over the barrel of herring. Exquisite delicious herring are on the top but rotten, smaller herring are at the bottom." I was STRONGLY reminded of Rose from St. Olaf on the Golden Girls. Then we went to the Nordic Museum, which was ridiculous. It had traditional folk art, toys, houses, Swedish traditions, and then, randomly this exhibit about washing machines featuring notes in Swedish that said, "please clean out the lint trap my panties don't need dog hair in them!" with English translations beside them. And it's like, wait, what?!
So after going to the museums in the FREEZING cold (Stockholm was about -15 degrees Celsius compared to Berlin's 3 or 4 degrees) we had some coffee and met up with the Scottish boys again and went to this weird techno club. And Sean and Chris thought it was hilarious to keep creeping up behind me and sniffing my hair to freak me out, and Lewis and I chatted about his sheep farm on the Isle of Lewis (Bain told me "Lewis's mum had no imagination hence his name") and Bain kept singing Gold Digger and then complaining that "Swedish girls are dead beautiful but their fuckin' stuck up, mate. Like Scottish girls are game for a laugh, this is shit I want to go home. I'm a lad's lad I can't be bothered with this poufer music." And Evelyn and I danced and it was awesome awesome.
Saturday, Evelyn and I woke up and decided to wonder round Gamla Stan, which is the old town and has beautiful architecture and winding streets and is atop this hill. It was SO cold, so we kept walking ducking into shops and we took pictures of the weird mittens and kitch viking souvenir stuff that was on sale. It was a really relaxed fun day, culminating in us chilling back at the hostel with the Scots again, going to a bar, then another bar, then Evelyn and I catching the bus back at 3:45 to get to the airport at 5, to board our plane which left at 6:55. We were tired and crabby by the time we got home (about 9:30 for me) and I dived into bed, woke up, and here I am now. It was an amazing weekend but I'm really glad to be back in balmy Berlin, where at least I can speak/read the language.
I have midterms tomorrow, which obviously I'm not stoked about but it should be a nice week because we have like one class a day and then next week--Paris. Which I hope is OK, because this trip has taught me I don't always do well with French people... nurrm :-/
I know it's been forever since I last blogged, which is actually a very positive sign for my state of mind. It means instead of merely writing about Berlin I have been out truly enjoying it. I don't want to leave! And.......without further ado, here I continue my blog. Stockholm baby!
As most of you know, this weekend, I went to Stockholm with Evelyn, a girl from the program who is in my German class. Now, I wanted this weekend actually to go to Edinburgh, my interest in which was based on the fact that the two things I know that came from Scotland are awesome, 1) The band "The Fratellis" 2) Braveheart. Baam! Buuuut I couldn't find anyone who wanted to go to Scotland with me, and due to my lovely physical appearance, trusting nature, and ability to be easily tricked traveling by myself might be the worst idea ever. Still, I really wanted to get out of Berlin and take advantage of Europe being small (which it really isn't, all Americans think it's just like a bigger Epcot Center but actually it takes forever to get from place to place, like it's 7 hours or so by train to Munich, maybe longer) and travel. Stockholm has never really been my idea of a great time (or in my ideas that prominently at all for that matter) but I figured, what the hell, and asked Evelyn if I could tag along with her to Stockholm, a trip she had already planned. We left for the airport on Thursday Night at about 7, our flight took off at 9:30, and by about 10:45 we had landed in Stockholm. YAY! Just kidding. My first overwhelming feeling was kind of panic. I have been some place where I didn't speak A WORD of the language. A WORD. Even if I went to Japan I know how to say "hi" and "thank you" and things like that. But not a single Swedish word. Oh and there currency is insane. Typical price for a meal 89 SEK. What is that?! I literally was afraid when we landed and I bought my bus ticket for 180 SEK that I had agreed to spend like $800 or something. Yeah and I had to buy a bus ticket because the Stockholm airport to which Ryan Air flies into (the no frills airline) is ONE AND A HALF hours from the city itself. ONE AND A HALF. So Evelyn and I pile on to the bus, and we see there is a movie playing, and the movie is "Saturday Night Fever", always, in my experience, a bad omen. Finally we reach the central station. We go to Central Terminal, already having decided instead of taking a cab to our hostel like chickens, we are just going to go balls out and take the train. I have a terrible sense of direction, as you all know, but I am EXCELLENT at navigating subways. I don't know why it's ever hard for people, but it's super easy to me. I looked at a map, saw we were going on the red line to someplace starting with an S, and bought a 72 pass card and descended with Evelyn to the platform. Um. Track 1: heading to Skaaaardsnald, Track 2: Slussel Track 3: Soobgenfug. No colors. Damn. So we ask someone, and he's like oh you want the T-Station, that's not here. Cool, where is it? Down the bridge on the left. We walk outside, there are 3 bridges. Again, Damn. When we finally find the T-Station like 20 minutes later I was so excited we did a picture of me in front of it making a T with my arms.
When we finally got to the hostel, it was probably 12:45, and it was a door on the side of a drugstore with ACCO HOSTEL written on it in black lettering, like the kind I used in high school for my cheerleading garage door sign. It did NOT look legit. And, there was no check-in. They sent you an e-mail prior to departing with the door codes to get into the hostel, into your room and then they gave us a bed number each. No front desk of any kind. So we get inside, enter our codes to our room, and the room already has people sleeping in it, and is pitch black. There are 5 Ikea bunk beds with white sheets. THAT'S IT. Weirder, when I first open the door the first thing we see is a skinny, hair guy, with black curly hair, laying on the bed face down, with gray tighty-whiteys and his ass (crack and all) in the air. Evelyn and I threw down our stuff and just decided to find a good bar on the hostel street to go to. We changed and got ready to go, and on our way out we bumped into this group of Italians hanging out by the bathroom, and we talked to them and asked them where was good to go get a drink. That's the great thing about Hostels, everyone is super friendly and from everywhere and willing to chat. They gave us some tips and we set off. We walk down and the street to where they told us to go, and unfortunately it closed at 1:00 and it's like 1:05 now. So I'm like, shit, okay, what now? So this group of guys pass by and I just asked them and they're like "we're going to this cocktail bar here, wanna come?" so we went there and hung out, and to a club afterward and then crashed back at the hostel.
I woke up Friday morning to the sound of heavily male voices in heavily-accented English. This is always a good sign in my experience. I am programed to be attracted like a moth to the flame to any sort of UK accent. So I walked over to the other side of the room and introduced myself, and starting chatting with them. It was a group of like 7 of them from Edinburgh, and I'm like, great, Edinburgh came to us! So while Evelyn went to take her lovely lovely communal shower, I was talking with the guys, and asking them if they would recommend visiting Edinburgh. And they were so funny. The combination of the accents, plus sarcasm, plus them being attractive guys was pretty potent. Like they told me they had tried to convince this American girl they met the other day in a club that Scotland was really ass backwards, so they told her they only just like 10 years ago got telephones and electricity and that their currency, "the Scottish Pound" was a pound of rocks with numbers painted on them. And then we were chatting about the hostel, which had this strict 50 SEK (like 5 Euros, SEK is 10x the Euro, and then 5 Euros is about 7.5$) for sleeping in the wrong numbered bed and also said, "no drinking, no smoking, no parties" on the door, so in heavily accented Scottish one of the guys did an impression of a Polish (because he does a good Polish accent not because anyone was in fact Polish) accent saying, "You want have fun, 100 SEK fine! You open window, 200 SEK! First day of breath is free and then you must pay 1 SEK per breath!" And then the originally curly haired guy that was the first person I saw with his crack in the air, was like, "yeah last night we went to McDonalds and ordered 100 cheeseburgers. And the guy was like, 'what do you really want' and I was like, 'I'm sorry I'm being a dick. I want 100 cheeseburgers." And the night before apparently one of the other guys, Sean, was doing Mitch Headberg impressions, really badly, and it was just so much fun. My ribs hurt from laughing. And they were just like that, loud, funny, and dirty.
So, Evelyn and I went to go get breakfast and go to museums and we told the guys we'd meet up with them later and go out together. And we went to the Vasa Museum which is this great 17th century ship that sunk in Stockholm harbor and was excavated 333 years later and since the water was brackish it was preserved really well and so now the whole ship is displayed at this museum and it's really really cool and Evelyn and I took about a million pictures. It also had the skeletal remains of some of the passengers aboard that died when it sunk and they reconstructed their faces using wax. It was so amazing. Oh, but the best part was the Sweden: 1628 exhibit which was supposed to show what life in Sweden at the time the ship sunk was like. And it had little vignettes staged with phrases like, "Olaf negotiates with Sven over the barrel of herring. Exquisite delicious herring are on the top but rotten, smaller herring are at the bottom." I was STRONGLY reminded of Rose from St. Olaf on the Golden Girls. Then we went to the Nordic Museum, which was ridiculous. It had traditional folk art, toys, houses, Swedish traditions, and then, randomly this exhibit about washing machines featuring notes in Swedish that said, "please clean out the lint trap my panties don't need dog hair in them!" with English translations beside them. And it's like, wait, what?!
So after going to the museums in the FREEZING cold (Stockholm was about -15 degrees Celsius compared to Berlin's 3 or 4 degrees) we had some coffee and met up with the Scottish boys again and went to this weird techno club. And Sean and Chris thought it was hilarious to keep creeping up behind me and sniffing my hair to freak me out, and Lewis and I chatted about his sheep farm on the Isle of Lewis (Bain told me "Lewis's mum had no imagination hence his name") and Bain kept singing Gold Digger and then complaining that "Swedish girls are dead beautiful but their fuckin' stuck up, mate. Like Scottish girls are game for a laugh, this is shit I want to go home. I'm a lad's lad I can't be bothered with this poufer music." And Evelyn and I danced and it was awesome awesome.
Saturday, Evelyn and I woke up and decided to wonder round Gamla Stan, which is the old town and has beautiful architecture and winding streets and is atop this hill. It was SO cold, so we kept walking ducking into shops and we took pictures of the weird mittens and kitch viking souvenir stuff that was on sale. It was a really relaxed fun day, culminating in us chilling back at the hostel with the Scots again, going to a bar, then another bar, then Evelyn and I catching the bus back at 3:45 to get to the airport at 5, to board our plane which left at 6:55. We were tired and crabby by the time we got home (about 9:30 for me) and I dived into bed, woke up, and here I am now. It was an amazing weekend but I'm really glad to be back in balmy Berlin, where at least I can speak/read the language.
I have midterms tomorrow, which obviously I'm not stoked about but it should be a nice week because we have like one class a day and then next week--Paris. Which I hope is OK, because this trip has taught me I don't always do well with French people... nurrm :-/
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Don't Mean a Thing if it Ain't Got that Swing
So the little field trip I mentioned in my last blog, to the old cabaret club for my gender class? Well I revisited that spot last night after my Literature and Film class with some people for Wednesday Swing Night. I will fill you in on this in great detail, first let me tell you about class...
So for my Identity class yesterday, we also had a little field trip, to some Jewish sights that were destroyed prior to World War II in Kristalnacht, etc. The "Missing House" is only a few blocks from IES, there is a Jewish cemetery, and then there are also plaques on the road (covered by the snow and ice unfortunately) which have names of former residents on the street, when they were born, deported, and in most cases killed in a camp. The "Missing House" is exactly what it sounds like, a vacant lot between two other buildings were apartments used to be, the names of the former Jewish inhabitants written on the side of the other two buildings. It represents, like the void in the Jewish Museum, the void of Jews in German society. Something like 1,400 Jews survived in Germany after WWII, and there were roughly 720,000 beforehand. It's amazing, gruesome and amazing. A cool thing though is that I have seen the missing house before. When I went to Berlin with Ushi, the tour guide friend of the Lipps, last time I was in Germany, I saw the same street in the summer, so I was able to see the actual plaques that would have been on the ground. I got to tell the other kids in the class that they existed, which our teacher didn't mention until I brought it up, so I also felt kind of baller about that. EVEN BETTER, after seeing the house, our teacher, on IES's dime, bought us all Hot Chocolate at this great cafe. It was great after being freezing all day, and the teacher and I got to chat a little bit as well. She reminds me of my Mom, appearance wise, she has the same face shape, coloring, and bone structure, and she told me her mother was a Hungarian Jew. I'm telling you! Charisse should be the poster child for Hungarian Jews because there must be a type and she certainly fits it.
After delicious hot chocolate I had a break between classes and I used it to workout and call my mommy. I booked a trip to Stockholm with this girl Evelyn, next week, and I am so excited. I told my mom about the trip (I already have the blog post title figured out, "Stockholm Syndrome"...I am clever. Oh again about me being clever, during the tour in my Identity class my teacher showed us a synagogue that looks very Middle Eastern with a dome, and she said, it was designed this way because in the period it was built Middle Eastern culture was very chic. And I commented, "haha, middle eastern. Sheik." Sam and Steve lost their shit but no one else got it.) I also during the call with my mother pleaded for some popcorn in a care package. This country only likes kettle corn, which is gross because popcorn should rightly only be salty, and I don't have a microwave with which to make popcorn, so I am SORELY missing it and will settle for my mom sending me those weird aluminum things you cook on the stove top because I need it THAT much.
After break I had Literature Class, and the teacher is a total weirdo but for some reason I am this lady's prize pupil. Probably because I really like literature and am good at finding symbolism and meaning in things other people dismiss as unimportant. So she likes me for that, and also, because I took French I know how to pronounce French words, which she likes. She went on a little tirade about how English is conquering language and English speaking people are lazy about pronouncing things as people in their native country would. Which is a fair point. But at 6 o'clock on a Wednesday no one was in the mood and Margot even made a comment like, "You wanna talk about conquering maybe we should talk about Germany..."
So here is the part when I talk about my swing dancing. After class Jon, Kyle and I went to get a beer and wait for Steve and his girlfriend who is in town, and Mike and this girl he knows, to come to this swing dancing place. We had our beer and then went to the place, where Mike and his friend Abby were already. It was really fun, big band music was playing, couples of all different ages were dancing, like from my parents age to teens a little younger than me probably. But Keyword, couples. This is the kind of dancing where you need a partner. Ah the joys of being single. Mike's friend Abby kept on trying to get him to dance with me and he's very stiff and proper and I felt like I was at an awkward school dance. He had just taken swing lessons and was like, "here are the steps" and I am more of someone to just, feeeeeel the music. It's like dancing with my Dad at a wedding, I have good rhythm and I can look impressive, I just need a good partner. So I danced with Jon, Kyle, and Mike...all of whom put up a very valiant effort. And I have a good time chatting with Abby and Steve's girlfriend when they showed up, who is very nice and fun but totally different than I expected. Halfway through the night Eliza and Laurel showed up too. So we're hanging out, drinking, dancing, having fun, and I'm like, I need a good partner. I want to DANCE. So I went on a quest to find the oldest, fatherly looking man I could find, and I found one, and was like, "let's dance". He was PROBABLY my Dad's age, if not older. But man, he could swing dance. We did like kicks and spins and flips and it was sooooo much fun. Definitely not skeevy or creepy, there was no flirtation, he was married and talked about his wife, it was just a good dance partner. I tell you what, those old men, they had to have some dancing game because otherwise they wouldn't get dates back in the day. I guess...I mean, I wasn't ALIVE.
So for my Identity class yesterday, we also had a little field trip, to some Jewish sights that were destroyed prior to World War II in Kristalnacht, etc. The "Missing House" is only a few blocks from IES, there is a Jewish cemetery, and then there are also plaques on the road (covered by the snow and ice unfortunately) which have names of former residents on the street, when they were born, deported, and in most cases killed in a camp. The "Missing House" is exactly what it sounds like, a vacant lot between two other buildings were apartments used to be, the names of the former Jewish inhabitants written on the side of the other two buildings. It represents, like the void in the Jewish Museum, the void of Jews in German society. Something like 1,400 Jews survived in Germany after WWII, and there were roughly 720,000 beforehand. It's amazing, gruesome and amazing. A cool thing though is that I have seen the missing house before. When I went to Berlin with Ushi, the tour guide friend of the Lipps, last time I was in Germany, I saw the same street in the summer, so I was able to see the actual plaques that would have been on the ground. I got to tell the other kids in the class that they existed, which our teacher didn't mention until I brought it up, so I also felt kind of baller about that. EVEN BETTER, after seeing the house, our teacher, on IES's dime, bought us all Hot Chocolate at this great cafe. It was great after being freezing all day, and the teacher and I got to chat a little bit as well. She reminds me of my Mom, appearance wise, she has the same face shape, coloring, and bone structure, and she told me her mother was a Hungarian Jew. I'm telling you! Charisse should be the poster child for Hungarian Jews because there must be a type and she certainly fits it.
After delicious hot chocolate I had a break between classes and I used it to workout and call my mommy. I booked a trip to Stockholm with this girl Evelyn, next week, and I am so excited. I told my mom about the trip (I already have the blog post title figured out, "Stockholm Syndrome"...I am clever. Oh again about me being clever, during the tour in my Identity class my teacher showed us a synagogue that looks very Middle Eastern with a dome, and she said, it was designed this way because in the period it was built Middle Eastern culture was very chic. And I commented, "haha, middle eastern. Sheik." Sam and Steve lost their shit but no one else got it.) I also during the call with my mother pleaded for some popcorn in a care package. This country only likes kettle corn, which is gross because popcorn should rightly only be salty, and I don't have a microwave with which to make popcorn, so I am SORELY missing it and will settle for my mom sending me those weird aluminum things you cook on the stove top because I need it THAT much.
After break I had Literature Class, and the teacher is a total weirdo but for some reason I am this lady's prize pupil. Probably because I really like literature and am good at finding symbolism and meaning in things other people dismiss as unimportant. So she likes me for that, and also, because I took French I know how to pronounce French words, which she likes. She went on a little tirade about how English is conquering language and English speaking people are lazy about pronouncing things as people in their native country would. Which is a fair point. But at 6 o'clock on a Wednesday no one was in the mood and Margot even made a comment like, "You wanna talk about conquering maybe we should talk about Germany..."
So here is the part when I talk about my swing dancing. After class Jon, Kyle and I went to get a beer and wait for Steve and his girlfriend who is in town, and Mike and this girl he knows, to come to this swing dancing place. We had our beer and then went to the place, where Mike and his friend Abby were already. It was really fun, big band music was playing, couples of all different ages were dancing, like from my parents age to teens a little younger than me probably. But Keyword, couples. This is the kind of dancing where you need a partner. Ah the joys of being single. Mike's friend Abby kept on trying to get him to dance with me and he's very stiff and proper and I felt like I was at an awkward school dance. He had just taken swing lessons and was like, "here are the steps" and I am more of someone to just, feeeeeel the music. It's like dancing with my Dad at a wedding, I have good rhythm and I can look impressive, I just need a good partner. So I danced with Jon, Kyle, and Mike...all of whom put up a very valiant effort. And I have a good time chatting with Abby and Steve's girlfriend when they showed up, who is very nice and fun but totally different than I expected. Halfway through the night Eliza and Laurel showed up too. So we're hanging out, drinking, dancing, having fun, and I'm like, I need a good partner. I want to DANCE. So I went on a quest to find the oldest, fatherly looking man I could find, and I found one, and was like, "let's dance". He was PROBABLY my Dad's age, if not older. But man, he could swing dance. We did like kicks and spins and flips and it was sooooo much fun. Definitely not skeevy or creepy, there was no flirtation, he was married and talked about his wife, it was just a good dance partner. I tell you what, those old men, they had to have some dancing game because otherwise they wouldn't get dates back in the day. I guess...I mean, I wasn't ALIVE.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Annie's on Fire
So when I last left off I told you I was looking forward to a low-key night at Scotch and Sofa. While I did end up going there to meet some people; everyone was late or not going and I started to get a little worried. So finally one by one people trickle in, but still missing, Laurel, Eliza, Adria, Steve (basically most of the people I made plans with) so I was like, what the hell? I hung out at Scotch and Sofa for a while and Julia Newman's (who I know from D.C. this summer) friend Jon (who is studying abroad in Bonn and was in Berlin this weekend) ended up coming to meet me at Julia's request. He brought one friend, and by about 12 o'clock present at Scotch and Sofa were Pam, Margot, Sam, Evelyn, Elise, Me, Julia's friend, Jon, and one of his friends. A pretty solid group. I called Laurel and she, Eliza, and Adria, were at Andrew's just hanging out. So I ended up going over there (just around the corner from Scotch and Sofa) with the intention of meeting everyone again at this club called Prater. So I went to Andrew's, round people up to go to Prater, and surprise, surprise, it's closed! So there is a group of like 12 people, all drunk (except me, since I got a late start) trying to come up with a new plan. At one point everyone just stood blocking the entrance to the U-bahn. Anyone who knows me knows this situation gave me a heart attack. I was cold, everyone was unorganized, and I was like, "alright here's what going to happen, you're all going to pull your thumbs out of your asses and we're going to a bar. ANY bar." This didn't work.
However, the more sober of our numbers, Andrew, Jon, his friend, Elise and I ended up splintering off to go to this nearby ping-pong bar. Ping-Pong beer you may ask, well it's exactly what it sounds like. It was a basement type deal with a bunch of beer and ping-pong tables. That was kind of lame, but I mingled and talked to people. It was a good chance for me to bond with Andrew who I had instantly for no reason when I first met him, well there is a reason, it's because he reminds me of Phil, but I figured I should try to make nice and get to know him. He and I stood in the corner and talked, mostly about people in our group and our opinions on them. And he said, "Damn all the hot girls in the program have boyfriends," normally I would have let even a small comment like that make me feel bad about myself, but given my new ephifany, I just said, "Careful. I'm one of the hot girls AND I don't have a boyfriend." And he was caught off guard and he said, "Oh uh, I just mean, like there's no attraction, we're just friends." And I said, "I wasn't offering, just wanted to remind you that you forgot to include me in the category. Silly you." BAM! How cool and collected of me right? No feeling bad, no desire to prove my attractiveness, just "alright dumbass, if you can't see I'm a hottie you're an idiot, so let me tell you so."
Anyway, Jon's friend wanted to go to this techno club called Tresor and I was not really feeling it, it was kind of far away and already almost two am, but everyone else was down and I figured, Hell, I'm in Berlin, let's go. So we went to this club, which is in an old factory, and is quite possibly the weirdest thing I have ever encountered. It's so loud, the people are crazy, drugs are being passed around, and most offensively it was 14 EURO cover charge. So I went and danced and tried to have fun, but it just wasn't my scene at all so I bailed before other people did, which was still 5 am.
Sunday I slept. Day over. Yesterday, Monday, I met up with Julia's friend again after class and he and I went to my two favorite bars, "The Oscar Wilde" and "Studio 54". We had a really great night just hanging out and telling Julia stories and I ended up getting home at about 12. So the past couple days really have been sort of a frenzied blur. But I'm having a lot of fun (finally) and I think I might be at the point where I really don't give a shit what people say or think about me (also finally). Like today, in the middle of our gender studies class, our teacher said, "there is this great place that women in the twenties would have hung out at, and it's still a great place to go and get coffee. Just 'round the corner." And I was like, "let's go!" and my teacher is like, "go now?" And I said, "yeah it's just around the corner, let's continue our discussion there over a cup of coffee." So our teacher, much to her credit, was just like, "ok let's go!" So I was stoked, a) to be going on a field trip b) that it was my opinion that swayed her and c) to go to a really cool 1920s, cabaret type bar. So while we're getting our stuff together I was like, "i'm so excited" and I guess I said it like more than once, because this girl goes, "If you say that one more time I'm going to push you in the street and make sure a car hits you." To which I said, "Alright Debbie Downer, I'll try to be more morose about life next time, would that suit you?" BAM! I seriously am on fire. She was a total bitch for no reason, and instead of me getting down on myself, again, I called her on it. It's liberating! We'll see what happens with all this new found confidence, yeah?
However, the more sober of our numbers, Andrew, Jon, his friend, Elise and I ended up splintering off to go to this nearby ping-pong bar. Ping-Pong beer you may ask, well it's exactly what it sounds like. It was a basement type deal with a bunch of beer and ping-pong tables. That was kind of lame, but I mingled and talked to people. It was a good chance for me to bond with Andrew who I had instantly for no reason when I first met him, well there is a reason, it's because he reminds me of Phil, but I figured I should try to make nice and get to know him. He and I stood in the corner and talked, mostly about people in our group and our opinions on them. And he said, "Damn all the hot girls in the program have boyfriends," normally I would have let even a small comment like that make me feel bad about myself, but given my new ephifany, I just said, "Careful. I'm one of the hot girls AND I don't have a boyfriend." And he was caught off guard and he said, "Oh uh, I just mean, like there's no attraction, we're just friends." And I said, "I wasn't offering, just wanted to remind you that you forgot to include me in the category. Silly you." BAM! How cool and collected of me right? No feeling bad, no desire to prove my attractiveness, just "alright dumbass, if you can't see I'm a hottie you're an idiot, so let me tell you so."
Anyway, Jon's friend wanted to go to this techno club called Tresor and I was not really feeling it, it was kind of far away and already almost two am, but everyone else was down and I figured, Hell, I'm in Berlin, let's go. So we went to this club, which is in an old factory, and is quite possibly the weirdest thing I have ever encountered. It's so loud, the people are crazy, drugs are being passed around, and most offensively it was 14 EURO cover charge. So I went and danced and tried to have fun, but it just wasn't my scene at all so I bailed before other people did, which was still 5 am.
Sunday I slept. Day over. Yesterday, Monday, I met up with Julia's friend again after class and he and I went to my two favorite bars, "The Oscar Wilde" and "Studio 54". We had a really great night just hanging out and telling Julia stories and I ended up getting home at about 12. So the past couple days really have been sort of a frenzied blur. But I'm having a lot of fun (finally) and I think I might be at the point where I really don't give a shit what people say or think about me (also finally). Like today, in the middle of our gender studies class, our teacher said, "there is this great place that women in the twenties would have hung out at, and it's still a great place to go and get coffee. Just 'round the corner." And I was like, "let's go!" and my teacher is like, "go now?" And I said, "yeah it's just around the corner, let's continue our discussion there over a cup of coffee." So our teacher, much to her credit, was just like, "ok let's go!" So I was stoked, a) to be going on a field trip b) that it was my opinion that swayed her and c) to go to a really cool 1920s, cabaret type bar. So while we're getting our stuff together I was like, "i'm so excited" and I guess I said it like more than once, because this girl goes, "If you say that one more time I'm going to push you in the street and make sure a car hits you." To which I said, "Alright Debbie Downer, I'll try to be more morose about life next time, would that suit you?" BAM! I seriously am on fire. She was a total bitch for no reason, and instead of me getting down on myself, again, I called her on it. It's liberating! We'll see what happens with all this new found confidence, yeah?
Friday, February 5, 2010
Transvesite Field Trip
I had a field trip friday morning which required me to leave the house at 9 am. On a day I don't usually have class. Want to guess how happy I was about this? So despite that little hiccup, this actually was a pretty neat little endeavor. We went to the house of Charlotte Von Mahlsdorf, who was born a male, but starting cross dressing at age 15. Not convincingingly I might add. She didn't wear makeup or jewelry or anything, so especially towards the end she pretty much just looked like a balding man wearing a dress. However, even though she passed away a few years ago, she was able to live through and be a transvestite through both the Nazi and Communsist regimes. So, obviously, that makes her a figure of great intertest especially for the Gay movement in Europe, which is why we went to this house, for my Gender Studies class. In actuallity, however, the house itself is almost more impressive than the history behind it. Charlotte was an antiques dealer, so the house is the showcase of all these amazing things; beautiful wood furniture, player pianos, a gramophone, antique dolls and jewelry...oh and in the basement there is the original furniture from a bar that was a hot-spot in the 1920s, complete with backroom whipping table. For kinky stuff. No joke. WHIPPING table. So that was an outrageous way to start my weekend off.
After the field trip I headed toward Friedrichstrasse to explore a little and also to do a few errands. I went to the bookstore, Dussman, which is a 4 floor monstrosity, complete with a huuuuuuuuuge selection of English books. So I bought a John Updike novel and another novel called "The Kindly Ones" about a few lace dealer in France who was formerly a Nazi SS officer. It won all these international awards so I'm excited. I finished "The Help" and loved it, enough to allow another girl in my program to borrow it. She offered to swap me her copy of "Eat, Pray, Love" but frankly the whole concept of a middle aged woman "finding herself" through zen-like meditation is enough to make me gag. I only politely told her no thanks.
After shopping and browsing, I came home and got ready and then went over to Andrew's house, where Laurel told me she and Eliza were. However, when I got there, like 20 people were there and it was this huge party. It felt like a beatnik party from the sixties. Old music was playing, people were smoking inside, everyone was dancing and drinking and mingling and generally just being awesome. Some french kids from the German Language IES program downstairs were there too, and I have to say, aside from this one kid, French people seem to suck. They all sat on the couch and scoffed at anyone trying to make conversation. I said, "Hey where are you guys from," "Deee-John." "Oh awesome, like the mustard." "Non." Literally, it was like pulling teeth. And they were making fun of my dancing because I was having a great time and going crazy and they were all lamely sitting on the couch. So I said to the one I liked, "Do people not dance in France? Why are your friends just sitting?:" And he said, "I will ask them this." But he came back later with no results. But I had a great time anyway. German flats are so cool and cozy and it was one of the most fun times I've had my whole stay in germany, everyone just hanging out, getting along and having fun.
This afternoon I called Steve and asked if he wanted to go to the Jewish museum, and he did, so we got a group together; me, adria, steve, kyle, sam, laurel and eliza and all went together. The building is amazing. It's a zig-zag pattern that looks like a lightning bolt from above and the walls and floors are tilted so it's like an Alice in Wonderland feeling. And one of the neatest things was something called, "The Holocaust Tower" which is a room, not heated, not lit except by a small slit window that basically gives you the sensation of being at the bottom of a very deep well. There is a ladder, half way up the wall and out of reach, the window is out of reach...it gives you the feeling of complete isolation and despair. It's an amazing feature. There is also this room called "the void" which is empty space within the building to represent the void of the Jews from European society caused by the Holocaust. And in the empty concrete space on the floor are 10,000 little metal disks with faces carved into them, to represent the actual people. The actual exhibitions weren't that cool, but it's almost like the building itself is the museum and the art.
Tonight I've made plans to go to this bar called "scotch and sofa" and hopefully it'll just be a really fun low-key night!
After the field trip I headed toward Friedrichstrasse to explore a little and also to do a few errands. I went to the bookstore, Dussman, which is a 4 floor monstrosity, complete with a huuuuuuuuuge selection of English books. So I bought a John Updike novel and another novel called "The Kindly Ones" about a few lace dealer in France who was formerly a Nazi SS officer. It won all these international awards so I'm excited. I finished "The Help" and loved it, enough to allow another girl in my program to borrow it. She offered to swap me her copy of "Eat, Pray, Love" but frankly the whole concept of a middle aged woman "finding herself" through zen-like meditation is enough to make me gag. I only politely told her no thanks.
After shopping and browsing, I came home and got ready and then went over to Andrew's house, where Laurel told me she and Eliza were. However, when I got there, like 20 people were there and it was this huge party. It felt like a beatnik party from the sixties. Old music was playing, people were smoking inside, everyone was dancing and drinking and mingling and generally just being awesome. Some french kids from the German Language IES program downstairs were there too, and I have to say, aside from this one kid, French people seem to suck. They all sat on the couch and scoffed at anyone trying to make conversation. I said, "Hey where are you guys from," "Deee-John." "Oh awesome, like the mustard." "Non." Literally, it was like pulling teeth. And they were making fun of my dancing because I was having a great time and going crazy and they were all lamely sitting on the couch. So I said to the one I liked, "Do people not dance in France? Why are your friends just sitting?:" And he said, "I will ask them this." But he came back later with no results. But I had a great time anyway. German flats are so cool and cozy and it was one of the most fun times I've had my whole stay in germany, everyone just hanging out, getting along and having fun.
This afternoon I called Steve and asked if he wanted to go to the Jewish museum, and he did, so we got a group together; me, adria, steve, kyle, sam, laurel and eliza and all went together. The building is amazing. It's a zig-zag pattern that looks like a lightning bolt from above and the walls and floors are tilted so it's like an Alice in Wonderland feeling. And one of the neatest things was something called, "The Holocaust Tower" which is a room, not heated, not lit except by a small slit window that basically gives you the sensation of being at the bottom of a very deep well. There is a ladder, half way up the wall and out of reach, the window is out of reach...it gives you the feeling of complete isolation and despair. It's an amazing feature. There is also this room called "the void" which is empty space within the building to represent the void of the Jews from European society caused by the Holocaust. And in the empty concrete space on the floor are 10,000 little metal disks with faces carved into them, to represent the actual people. The actual exhibitions weren't that cool, but it's almost like the building itself is the museum and the art.
Tonight I've made plans to go to this bar called "scotch and sofa" and hopefully it'll just be a really fun low-key night!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Ode to Studio 54
As you all know, I have been having a rough past couple of days lately, mostly because I have been feeling so alienated, and like an outsider, and last night, I had an epiphany. Not just a thought, literally, an Epiphany. Capitalized. It went like this: Every time I want to curl up in a ball and then fling myself into a river-something always stops me, and reminds me, "hey people care." Last night, it was Izetta. I spoke to her on the phone and she said, "Annie you've been in front of my face all day and I've been praying for you." And I realized then, that whenever I need help, and say, "I quit," God calls in for backup. Every time. I have been so low and so dark that I couldn't pull myself out, but every time I've been there, God has sent someone to help me. In high school it was my family, in Dayton it was my friends, in D.C. it was Andre and co., but there is always someone. So I've decided that I am not going to waste my time feeling alienated any more. I got peeps. Much like a street gang. Except in my posse there are no bloods or crips, just really nice people, who wouldn't be much good in a knife fight (although, I don't know, Charisse could shank a bitch). So that was part one of my Epiphany. The second part was, "FUCK THIS, I'm awesome." When I hear stories about what people have done in Berlin they go like this, "we went to this club with these IES people, then this club with these IES people..." whereas mine involve things like, "I met this German lawyer and drank him under the table with whiskey, or I went to a gay bar with Kaegan, or I saw the museum at night and then had authentic beer and lachs and bagels from a Jewish bakery." Moral of the story. Mine are BETTER. Yeah go drink it up in the clubs with other tourists, I'll be chilling at the artists squat chatting with actual Germans while they teach me how to roll cigarettes. In the words of Cartman, "screw you guys, I'm going home!" Except I'm not going home. I'm going fuckin' balls out.
So I woke up this morning with a completely new attitude. And giggled my way through German class for no apparent reason except I was so happy to not be depressed. I even asked my German teacher if "bomsen" which I learned from Cabaret, is the word for "screwing". It actually translates to "banging" but same idea. One might think this was an inappropriate question, but Burkart is super chill and asked us to use the familiar form of "you" and his first name, much less stuffy than traditional German professors who would insist on the formal you, and addressing each of us as "Herr Wenning" or "Frau Schuerman". He is teaching us slang and rap songs and dirty words as well as traiditional verb conjugation and adjective ending. He also, very possibly, is a flaming homosexual. But again, as he is European, I have to say possibly instead of certainly, because there is always the possibilty those Italian leather shoes and ass hugging jeans he is wearing are just fashionable. But he's great. He kind of scares me, especially when he speaks in English because his voice lowers and it gets this weird condescening tone, like I asked what the verb "springen" was and he goes "to jump, naturlich" and its like, whoa there B., wasn't so "naturlich" to me. Also fun news from German class, Burkart is bringing in his daughter (further evidence he could be gay, no Frau is mentioned) in and its her geburtstag! Which means birthday. Which means we're bringing in little treatsies. Which means AWESOME.
So after class I had my women and gender's studies class. I don't know what I think of it, in sharp contrast to Mary Carlson of Dayton, who is a loud, strong, forceful, women, Lotte is very much like a pony. She has HUGE teeth like one, firstly. And secondly, she gets very nervous and skittish easily and sort of prances around collecting her thoughts. It's distracting for me. Like we talked about something involving transvestites (which were the subject of class) I forget the comment, and she goes, "Oh now that would be a scandal" but then she had to guffaw nervously for 10-15 minutes while we all wonder, "that funny? Really?". Or at least I do. Tomorrow we have a field trip to this museum that was opened by Berlin's most famous transvestite, who also happened to be an antiques collector. So that should be pretty sweet. Or awful, because it's at 9am.
Anyway, now to the crux of this blog. I went, during my break between next classes, to go get some coffee at Studio 54, arguably, the happiest place on earth. It's this bar/cafe right near this artists squat for all these alternative people, and Berlin's degenerates flock to this bar in a staggering number. For relatively cheap, (2 coffees and a tea for only 4 Euro total) I can sit, read my assignments, and people watch with some of the most interesting people I have ever seen. BETTER still, I am a REGULAR. So I see people I know. All the bartenders for example. Also, Steve, who may or may not be homeless, who sits at the bar round the clock, rolling cigarettes and drinking beer. Also, posses of Turkish people come in and stare at me, covetously, but the bartenders I think sort of think of me as like the baby, since I wear clean clothes and cardigans and don't smoke and am very polite, so they watch out for me. It's like cheers, if cheers were dirty and filled with burnouts and criminals. But not everyone is a criminal, it just has a distinct flavor, like an aged cheese. The floors are wooden, it's always smoky, the people are loud and dirty and varying in age/race/hygiene level/gender...but it is heaven. My home in Berlin away from home.
So I woke up this morning with a completely new attitude. And giggled my way through German class for no apparent reason except I was so happy to not be depressed. I even asked my German teacher if "bomsen" which I learned from Cabaret, is the word for "screwing". It actually translates to "banging" but same idea. One might think this was an inappropriate question, but Burkart is super chill and asked us to use the familiar form of "you" and his first name, much less stuffy than traditional German professors who would insist on the formal you, and addressing each of us as "Herr Wenning" or "Frau Schuerman". He is teaching us slang and rap songs and dirty words as well as traiditional verb conjugation and adjective ending. He also, very possibly, is a flaming homosexual. But again, as he is European, I have to say possibly instead of certainly, because there is always the possibilty those Italian leather shoes and ass hugging jeans he is wearing are just fashionable. But he's great. He kind of scares me, especially when he speaks in English because his voice lowers and it gets this weird condescening tone, like I asked what the verb "springen" was and he goes "to jump, naturlich" and its like, whoa there B., wasn't so "naturlich" to me. Also fun news from German class, Burkart is bringing in his daughter (further evidence he could be gay, no Frau is mentioned) in and its her geburtstag! Which means birthday. Which means we're bringing in little treatsies. Which means AWESOME.
So after class I had my women and gender's studies class. I don't know what I think of it, in sharp contrast to Mary Carlson of Dayton, who is a loud, strong, forceful, women, Lotte is very much like a pony. She has HUGE teeth like one, firstly. And secondly, she gets very nervous and skittish easily and sort of prances around collecting her thoughts. It's distracting for me. Like we talked about something involving transvestites (which were the subject of class) I forget the comment, and she goes, "Oh now that would be a scandal" but then she had to guffaw nervously for 10-15 minutes while we all wonder, "that funny? Really?". Or at least I do. Tomorrow we have a field trip to this museum that was opened by Berlin's most famous transvestite, who also happened to be an antiques collector. So that should be pretty sweet. Or awful, because it's at 9am.
Anyway, now to the crux of this blog. I went, during my break between next classes, to go get some coffee at Studio 54, arguably, the happiest place on earth. It's this bar/cafe right near this artists squat for all these alternative people, and Berlin's degenerates flock to this bar in a staggering number. For relatively cheap, (2 coffees and a tea for only 4 Euro total) I can sit, read my assignments, and people watch with some of the most interesting people I have ever seen. BETTER still, I am a REGULAR. So I see people I know. All the bartenders for example. Also, Steve, who may or may not be homeless, who sits at the bar round the clock, rolling cigarettes and drinking beer. Also, posses of Turkish people come in and stare at me, covetously, but the bartenders I think sort of think of me as like the baby, since I wear clean clothes and cardigans and don't smoke and am very polite, so they watch out for me. It's like cheers, if cheers were dirty and filled with burnouts and criminals. But not everyone is a criminal, it just has a distinct flavor, like an aged cheese. The floors are wooden, it's always smoky, the people are loud and dirty and varying in age/race/hygiene level/gender...but it is heaven. My home in Berlin away from home.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Solitude and Failure
To put the punctuation mark on my day, I am now cooking alone. I will later eat alone. Then I will clean up the kitchen alone, study alone, and get ready for bed alone. THRILLING! And actually it doesn't have to be this way. I have an offer to go out to get a beer with a friend later, but it's cold and snowy outside, and I don't really enjoy his company, so I'm trying to decide what's more pathetic--hanging out with someone I don't like out of loneliness and desperation, or not caring enough to even make the effort to be social. I'm going to be honest. This is a low patch. I am lonely. And what's worse, I'm not homesick I'm just frustrated. I love Berlin! I wish it loved me back. I'd like to be out exploring it instead of waiting by the phone like some sad fat-girl from the fifties. Every time my cellphone vibrates I jump about a mile. Unfortunately, usually it's someone asking about German homework instead of a German hipster who wants to wine and dine with me.
Yesterday was awful, unequivocally. I got all the way to school and realized I forgot my wallet, which meant I had no keys to the building, my locker in the building, any money, I.D., U-Bahn pass, health insurance card...basically everything essential to my life. If I was killed on the side of the street there would have been nothing but dental records to I.D. me. If I was killed by the Russian Mafia and they had the foresight to remove my hands and teeth, I never would have been found. Not that either situation is likely, but nonetheless. I didn't finish class until 2:30, meaning I didn't get anything to eat until then because I had no money with which to buy something. I'm sure all of you can assume my disposition when I got home.
Then, to make life better, I had class until 7:45, and I still hadn't had dinner and I needed to go grocery shopping because there was nothing in the house. Not even cereal or bread or milk or deli meat or pasta. NOTHING. So I went shopping and when I was paying I dropped the jar of mustard, which means not only did I spill mustard and glass all over the supermarket, I was too embarrassed to go get a new one was I just left. By the time I got home it was 8:30, I still hadn't eaten. I went to make a pizza, and it somehow feel between the rack midway though cooking so I had to clean out the burnt cheese and pineapple (it was a Hawaiian pizza) and I STILL hadn't eaten. Seriously, it was just like, alright universe, you win.
Today had the promise of being a lot better. Our group was schedule to take a tour of the Reichstag and go up inside the glass dome. This entails beautiful panoramic views of the city and is an amazing photo-op. This morning, I realize my camera is broken. GREAT! The view was pretty amazing, not that any of you will get to see pictures. Although I did convince people to take a few pictures with me in them so I didn't have absolutely NOTHING to showcase my experience. But yeah, this pretty accurately summarizes how my life has been going. Solitude and failure. Ok I'm ready for the fun Berlin please. Let's get back to that!
Yesterday was awful, unequivocally. I got all the way to school and realized I forgot my wallet, which meant I had no keys to the building, my locker in the building, any money, I.D., U-Bahn pass, health insurance card...basically everything essential to my life. If I was killed on the side of the street there would have been nothing but dental records to I.D. me. If I was killed by the Russian Mafia and they had the foresight to remove my hands and teeth, I never would have been found. Not that either situation is likely, but nonetheless. I didn't finish class until 2:30, meaning I didn't get anything to eat until then because I had no money with which to buy something. I'm sure all of you can assume my disposition when I got home.
Then, to make life better, I had class until 7:45, and I still hadn't had dinner and I needed to go grocery shopping because there was nothing in the house. Not even cereal or bread or milk or deli meat or pasta. NOTHING. So I went shopping and when I was paying I dropped the jar of mustard, which means not only did I spill mustard and glass all over the supermarket, I was too embarrassed to go get a new one was I just left. By the time I got home it was 8:30, I still hadn't eaten. I went to make a pizza, and it somehow feel between the rack midway though cooking so I had to clean out the burnt cheese and pineapple (it was a Hawaiian pizza) and I STILL hadn't eaten. Seriously, it was just like, alright universe, you win.
Today had the promise of being a lot better. Our group was schedule to take a tour of the Reichstag and go up inside the glass dome. This entails beautiful panoramic views of the city and is an amazing photo-op. This morning, I realize my camera is broken. GREAT! The view was pretty amazing, not that any of you will get to see pictures. Although I did convince people to take a few pictures with me in them so I didn't have absolutely NOTHING to showcase my experience. But yeah, this pretty accurately summarizes how my life has been going. Solitude and failure. Ok I'm ready for the fun Berlin please. Let's get back to that!
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