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.