Ansichtssache

I got my first traffic violation fine today--in a country where I don't even drive a car! As I rode my bike into the city late this afternoon to buy some stamps and a train ticket, it crossed my mind that I'd have to remember to turn on my light before I drove back. The police have been standing at the intersection just outside the city center recently, fining people for not using their lights, and I didn't want to take any unnecessary chances. Little did I know, I was already taking one. When I approached the intersection, the police were there, their van parked to the side, surrounded by violators and bicycles. The head cop pulled me over. You're not supposed to ride a bike on the left sidewalk, he said. Bikes, like cars, need to stay right. This would be fine--sensible, even--if it were posted or painted somewhere. But it is not, and people ride in both directions all the time, so I never thought anything of it. If I were in America, I would have at least asked how one was supposed to know this (since the Germans, too, pleaded ignorance, I figure it's not a standard cultural norm). But I was in Germany, wary of saying anything that could be considered a comeback and equally unsure of my linguistic capability to do so, so I paid my 15 Euros at the van-station and left. Ironically, it occurred to me that the Greifswalder Polizist was writing out my ticket at nearly the same time that a certain raspberry-chocolate-triangle-baking friend on the other side of the Atlantic was appealing her snowy-day parking ticket in the Washburn police court. It seems that la policía are sticklerish on both sides of the ocean.

My German Christmas musical education continued over the weekend with a brass concert in one of Greifswald's huge churches. The scale of the thing was gigantic: three brass choirs and a church-full of people (times three, as they had multiple performances). The concert was okay. The audience was encouraged to sing along, which kind of happened. At the end, they gave the first standing ovation I'd ever seen in Germany. Normally, German concert-goers clap forever but don't stand up.* Anyway, the klatschen elicited an encore of "Silent Night." When I memorized the German lyrics to that song 11 years ago, I never imagined I would someday be singing them in a German church at Christmas time. And furthermore, that they would mean something. It was kinda funny...I caught myself in incorrect pronounciations, learned and instilled in 6th grade music class. "Heemlische," I sang, before realizing I meant "himmlische." At one point in the concert, they stopped to say the Lord's Prayer. I found it slightly amusing that everyone there seemed to know it, despite the fact that a mere 21% of people claim to be church-affiliated, and probably no more than 2% go on a weekly basis. Yet I, who attended church virtually every week of my life until age 21, couldn't chant along. I kind of know the Lord's Prayer in German, but it doesn't come naturally enough to recite it along with the group. After the concert, I walked around the city center and drank some Glühwein from one of the approximately 154 stands selling it. It's a warm red wine with cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, and orange flavor that's like the national drink here around Christmas. If it's not alcoholic enough for you (legally required to be no more than 7%), you can get shots of rum or whiskey in it. I really like Glühwein now...the first time I tried it (in Heidelberg) I thought it was disgusting. Guess tastes change.

I drank a bunch of the stuff (I mean, not a reason-impairing bunch or anything) at the Christmas tea, Glühwein, and cookie event on my dorm floor the next day. A few of us stayed in the kitchen and talked for hours--good for dorm floor camradarie, of course, but also for Justine's German Skills. I love talking to Germans in groups, because I learn so much that way. When I'm talking to someone one-on-one, I have to concentrate on talking, so as long as I can understand what the other person says, I don't put much thought into the specific words and phrases he/she uses to say it. In a group, though, one can sit back and listen, thus picking up on words and phrases that keep reappearing. Things that you understand, but wouldn't have thought to say yourself. There are lots of those things for me.

Other than the linguistic advantages, talking to Germans is clearly cool for the cultural comparison. I've been thinking about the plusses and minuses to the German education system ever since I wrote a paper on it for Mr. Dormer in 9th grade Speech & Comp., so I always like hearing Germans' ideas on it. Short summary for those not in the know: German students** go to Grundschule from grades 1-4, then are (traditionally) split into one of three separate schools: Hauptschule, Realschule, and Gymnasium, based on the students' perceived intelligence and academic potential. Hauptschule and Realschule students go until the 9th or 10th grade, then do an apprenticeship to learn a trade. Students at the Gymnasium go to the 12th or 13th grade (depending on location, but soon to be 12 years everywhere) and take a test that allows them to go on to study at a university. The three Germans involved in this conversation were all insistant that this system is a good thing. I, too, see some merit to separation. They mentioned, for example, the fact that students learn at different speeds, and it makes sense to acknowledge that and offer an education that is likely to be useful to them. While this was one of their reasons, it seemed that mostly they just didn't want to interact with Hauptschul- students. They're a different type of people, my dorm-mates said. They have different interests. They listen to different music.***

At the same time, though, the Germans talked about the problems in many Gymnasiums (problems that seem to me to be created by this system). Gymnasium students are arrogant, they told me. They're afraid to ask their fellow students for help, because they're afraid of looking dumb. People are bullied for not being up to snuff. This struck me as completely the opposite of America. That's probably an exaggeration, but it seems to me that it's generally the smart people who are outcasts, not the other way around. Anyway, one of the girls said that she actually transferred to a Gesamtschule (the other type of German school--less common--which includes everyone, much like an American high school). There, she said, it was so much better. She could ask for help. People were friendly. But she was just as supportive of the Haupt, Real, Gymnasium system as the others, which I couldn't quite understand. I'd be super-interested to talk to some Haupt- or Realschule students about this, but I never really come across any. Different type of people I guess....

My first class on Monday started with identifying some of the value differences between Germans and Americans. The main teacher led this part of the class, but asked for my input. It became apparent that what she was looking for was stereotypes, not exactly values. We came up with a list for Germans that included things like "blunt," "impolite," "punctual," and "orderly." She then asked me if I could think of anything negative to add to the list. (I thought those things were somewhat negative...) I couldn't really think of any others. What are the negative stereotypes of Germans, other than severe orderliness and unquestioning obedience to authority?

An interesting point that came out of that discussion: Germans have an average of 40 vacation days per year. Personally, I think this very well represents a value, though the teacher didn't really see the connection.

A final "German perspective" to end this blog post: curfews. The 9R class is still talking about youth crime, so I did a lesson on juvenile curfews**** and discovered that not only do all Germans under 16 have to be in by 10:00 pm, most people in the class supported this rule. One girl even proposed that we have curfews for former criminals, as well. Quite a contrast to one of the "American values" the other class had come up with that morning: liberty. Try to tell American 9th graders they can't be out after 10, and I'm positive you'd get almost 100% resistance. Even if you don't necessarily want to be out that late, it's the principle of the thing. Just like it's the principle of that traffic ticket. They really should have a sign....

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*About as bad as the U.S., where they always stand up. Can't stand that.

**Or "pupils" as they say in my English classes here. Silly British influence; I've never said "pupils" in my life, other than when talking about eyes.

***I'm not making this up.

****They had terrible problems pronouncing that!

Yesterday was my (Irish) dancing day!

One morning maybe two months ago, I got out of class and went to the bakery across the street. As I sat outside my dorm, eating my Apfeltasche and wearing...the same outfit I've got on today...I thought about how I felt in my new Greifswaldian life. Happy? Certainly I was not unhappy, but "happy" seemed kind of strong. I decided on content. Peaceful. Lately, though, I've decided happy just might apply.

The Christmas atmosphere isn't hurting anything--all the lights and music are pretty great. A couple days ago was St. Nikolaus Tag, the day when German Santa Claus comes. Apparently Nick didn't know about my American passport, because I got a clementine and some chocolate out of his holiday. Today there was a Christmas concert at my school that featured the choir and several solo musicians. The choir was...not the best ever. But I liked it. For one, they sang "Maria durch ein Dornwald ging," which is definitely up there on my list of favorite German Christmas carols.* But mostly, I liked it because it was genuine. There's something nice about people singing who are really only mediocre at singing. This only applies in certain contexts, however. You are not allowed to sing loudly and badly while drunk and standing on a table at a party. You are also not allowed to sing badly if I paid money to hear you sing well. Since the only money I paid here was for my cup o' Glühwein, a few flat notes were no problem.

Speaking of which: the Glühwein I had was great! This is puzzling. I now have had two Glühwein experiences, one of which (in Heidelberg) was terrible, and the other of which was quite the opposite. Fortunately, I have a strong suspicion the next month will include several more opportunities for Glühwein experimentation and conclusion-forming.

Back to the concert (and another reason I'm happy): I guess I'm starting to feel more like I fit in here. I never exactly felt out-of-place, but now I feel comfortable with all the other English teachers (I was kinda unsure about a couple at first--they seemed a little moody) and enjoy talking to them during breaks. I love it when the students greet me in the hallway, or wave if they see me on the street. Today, after the concert, I congratulated one of my students on the piece he played, and he introduced me to his mom. What was extra nice--he introduced me as "Justine," not "our English teaching assistant," or "this girl who helps Frau Redlich teach us." Justine means she'd already heard of me. And Justine is personal. I'm super glad they don't call me Frau Greve. It's bad enough seeing that on letters from the bank.**

So, partially because of the students and the teachers, I'm really starting to love my job! Seriously, I can't imagine a better gig (that I could realistically get right now, at least). Some of my classes are really enjoyable to be in. It's great when the students get excited--when they ask questions and when they're proud to show me what they've written. Today, I even saw smiles from every memeber of the 11/1 class (normally one big blank stare). Not that I had anything to do with that. They were writing an additional cat-fight scene for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, which anyone with a little creativity or interest in English insults could have a great time with. Another recent success was yesterday's 9th grade lesson on Irish Dancing. When I first announced the topic, I got several groans. The class seemed to enjoy the Lord of the Dance video clips, though, and were surprisingly cooperative when I took them to the lunchroom/small auditorium/hall to teach them some Irish dancing. My hopes for what they could learn in an hour were a little (or a lot) high, so they never actually did an entire real dance, but they got an idea of the basics. Even the boys participated--most of them willingly!--and seemed to have a good time! Watching them try it out absolutely made my day.

The other great thing about this job is all the possible travel time! When else in my life am I going to have these amazing long breaks and the expendable income to travel with? Probably never. Really makes me want to apply again for next year. The grad. school apps. are already in the cyber-mail, though, and I guess I AM excited about that, too.

It occurred to me today when I was filling out the Baker Alumni survey that my "yearly income" is 8000 Euros ($11,888). This is slightly below the single-person poverty line in Germany and slightly above it in America. I certainly don't feel impoverished, though. I pay for rent and food, but that's basically all. Don't need a car, my job includes insurance, and don't have to pay German taxes (though I guess I'll have to figure out how much I owe the IRS). How good can it get?!

Well, I guess you can add to that being part of a German orchestra. I played in the Christmas concert with the choir from Demmin yesterday. The concert was good and our piece went well. The conductor had to slow it down so the words would come across clearly in the huge stone church, which meant that I could actually kind of play the 16th-note-full last movement. So that was great! Downside: the church was freezing. I knew when I got there and was cold even while sitting within 5 feet of the heater (which they turned off during the actual concert) that my two pairs of socks and two sweaters would not prove sufficient.*** Oh well. I had tea when I got home, and my toes eventually thawed. Demmin's a good 45 minutes away from Greifswald, so I rode there with some of the other violinists. It was nice being with friendly people, speaking German, feeling like I was part of the conversation.

One part of the conversation I found pretty interesting relates back to the topic of money. They were discussing the proposal that members of the orchestra pay a small participation fee to finance the cost of music, soloists, etc. It seems that the general attitude is against this. One of the people I was with was very against it. She felt like we were doing the university a favor, and that if they wanted an orchestra, they should pay for it. I don't want to make too many broad America/Germany generalizations, but I think this kind of represents the different ways we have of looking at government responsibility. I've paid a fee for almost every orchestra I've played in, and I've never really heard people complain about that. Granted, I didn't have to pay (instead got paid) to play at Baker, so maybe she has a point about the university thing. But the other thing is: German universities are state-funded to an even greater extent than state universities in America are state-funded. The money is coming from taxes and I'm sure it's spread pretty thin. Also, a good half of the people in the Greifswald Uni orchestra aren't even university students. They play because they enjoy playing. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to make a small contribution to allow the university to spend its money on places where it would benefit more actual students.

Speaking of conversations auf Deutsch: I went to a German party on Saturday night with a girl from my Scottish Dance class. Actually, you could hardly call it a German party, as the vast majority of the people there were international students. The lingua franca, though, was German, so it was good for me. I talked to an accordion-playing Czech guy for a long time and met a (probably the only) German fan of John McCain.

With all the Christmas music I've heard lately, I've been thinking about (/missing) Baker Vespers. The Demmin concert included "Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day," which I love. I was trying to find some of the best Vespers songs**** on YouTube today and was having terrible luck. The Baker choir should seriously post videos, because they're better than anything else on there. Wrong tempos and poor interpretations all over the place. But I guess I have the Baker versions in my ear, so I'm a little biased.

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*"Mary walked through a thorn forest" (If you can tell me where in the Bible it mentions this event, I'd be quite interested to know. Maybe it's metaphorical. Song's pretty, though.). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5T1BN3IQRg

**Because they got my name from my passport, everything I get is addressed to "Frau Justine Marie Greve." The formality is intense.

***Wanna switch climates, Blake?

****"Personet Hodie" and "O Magnum Mysterium" in particular

Cold, Carsta, Christmas, and Cultural Differences

I think it's officially winter in Greifswald. It really hasn't been that bad so far, but today's high was 2 degrees Celcius (sounds worse than the equivalent 35 F...), and it feels as if we've left "pretty chilly" and gotten into "unequivocally cold." Kitchen conversation today revolved around the weather, so apparently I'm not the only one who felt the difference.

Germans have funny ways of dealing with cold, air, and light. I knew that Germans were obsessed with (durch)lüften--airing out rooms--but it didn't strike me how fanatical they were about it until now. When I was in Heidelberg, you'd frequently find the bathroom window open in the middle of the winter, but I figured that was to counteract the stuffiness-and-mold-creating effects of the warm shower. We do that in my dorm here, too, but it goes even further. At my school, all classrooms are lined on both sides with windows that can be opened--and that frequently are. Sometimes a teacher will even make a point to ask that the students open up a few windows to get some "air flow." I'm just thankful that most of the time I stand at the front and don't have to put on an extra scarf and sweater to handle the freezing air blowing by.

Which brings me to the related point that makes the situation even weirder. While they sure like their fresh air, Germans are worried about drafts and about getting sick from not being bundled up enough. I'm not exactly a warm-blooded person, and in America I usually feel like I'm more warmly-dressed than other people. At Baker, you'd see people galavanting about in nothing more than jeans and a hoodie in the middle of January (and normal people, too...that's to say nothing of the more extreme exceptions). I generally require a shirt or two, a sweater, a parka, a scarf, and some gloves. So it's not like I'm one to avoid winter clothes. The teachers here seemed worried about my wardrobe, though, and I got several concerned comments when I went outside in September and October with my warmest layer being a "Strickjacke."*

The German relationship with light isn't weird, I guess...just un-American. Natural light is preferred to articifial, which makes sense to me, but is less popular in America than one might think. I remember being surprised when I moved into the Baker dorms at how few people opened their blinds during the daytime. In any case, I started thinking about this on a particularly sunny 2:00 pm one day last week. The position of the sun was such that it was blinding for some of the kids in the class I was teaching, but the head teacher refused to draw the curtains. Instead, they had to reposition their desks so as to avoid the sun as best they could. "I'm not going to turn on the lights when the sun's shining outside" was the response. Hm. Maybe that's a generational thing, actually, not a national one.

Speaking of other German oddities (or, more kindly, "differences"): I'm learning that when it comes to traditional German cuisine, you really cannot make assumptions about the ingredients involved. I thought I'd get some food at the Christmas market today, figuring potatoes and cabbage/sauerkraut dishes were pretty safe vegetarian bets. When I got ready to order, I could see that the cabbage vat included chunks of sausage, so I stuck to an order of Bratkartoffeln. Fried onions and potatoes, right? But even those included pork bits. *sigh* You just can't escape the pig fat in this country.

I was reminded last Sunday when I went to Carsta's house for lunch (duck, potatoes, and cabbage) that I possess a Christmas tree. I got it down the other day from atop the wardrobe where it'd been sitting and put it up. Took about five minutes. It's pretty small. But it's nice! So with that and a felt-reindeer-featuring stocking (also left by a past TA), my room has become quite full of Christmas cheer. I have a box of lights, too, but I don't think I'm going to mess with them. I like Christmas lights a lot, but not when I have to figure out how to put them up.

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*Sweater with buttons/a zipper on it. The kind you've seen me wear every day since I started ninth grade.

Truth, mostly truth, and statistics

I know this blog is supposed to be about Germany. But see the thing is, I teach about America (and various other non-Germany places) and learn all kinds of cool, interesting, just-waiting-to-be-shared-with-someone facts. And without my lovely ex-roommates here to listen to me jabber about them, you, my collective blog readership, are going to have to become my audience.

My work at the school (see? now I'm writing about JMG in HGW like I'm supposed to) is really quite interesting because the subjects I teach are so diverse. In a three-day period last week, for example, my lesson topics included: "green" taxis in New York, South African geography, the Irish sport of hurling, language and culture in the southern U.S., using a dictionary, and the Loch Ness monster. And because my status as an English native speaker doesn't actually make me an expert on anything and everything related to English, I end up doing a lot of basic (i.e. Wikipedia) research. And also lots of looking-up statistics. And thereby find out stuff that's just very fascinating!

Like that math is by far the best-liked subject in American high schools. In a Gallup Poll, math received 23% of the popular vote. The only thing to even come close was science, with 14%. History and English got 10% each, and the other subjects fell in line behind this. P.E., for example, got 8%; art and music got 5% each. And foreign language? 3%. This (here comes the Germany connection) is drastically different than over here. The 9th graders I presented this to were all shocked. Math?! Why? They liked art, music, P.E., and English. History and literature were OK, too. The preferences of my students were reflected in national findings, as well. Interestingly, this seems to be part of an international math-liking/hating trend. The better students in a given country do at math, it seems, the less they tend to like it. And Americans, as the link will tell you, are pretty bad at math.

http://www.gallup.com/poll/8248/report-card-teens-favorite-subjects.aspx

For this same 9th grade class, I'm doing a lesson next week on crime. I'm planning on showing the trailer for Bowling for Columbine (if I can get a projector), a clip from a documentary on gangs in Los Angeles, and giving them some stats on American/youth crime. What blew my mind while doing research for this: crime has dropped CONSIDERABLY since the early-mid 1990s. Between 1993 and 2003, the rate of homocides committed by people aged 18-24 dropped by 37.5%. For people 14-17: 67% drop (my calculations from some Justice Department graphs). And victims of nonfatal firearm-related violent crimes? About 1,250,000 in 1994. By 2003, they'd slid to under 500,000. Unbelievable. And why? One of these charts had the release dates of Playstation and the Grand Theft Auto video games superimposed on it. All, of course, after the downward trend had begun. So maybe this video game violence-real violence correlation doesn't even exist at all.

Because I figure maybe you need a break from statistics, and because I mentioned this in an earlier entry and said I'd give a follow-up: I ate an eel! In sandwich form. It was really good--a little fatty, maybe, but lots of fish are. It was smoked, so it just tasted like smoked fish. Hm...now I kind of want some...

I haven't been doing a whole lot that's exciting to report. I got re-obsessed with studying Spanish, so I've been doing that through a couple computer programs. And I actually sat in on the 7th grade Spanish class yesterday! I was invited by the kids of the 7A, which is one of my really great classes. I was also invited to French, and one of the students already got permission for me to come, so I suppose I'll sit in on that once. It's a strange role to play, not being fully student or fully teacher. One of my 8th grade classes is being temporarily taken over (until Christmas, I think) by education students from the university who are getting in some practice. Most of the presentations are on American history, so I'm planning to attend out of curiosity, even though I won't have to do anything. The first one was yesterday. It was weird--I was watching someone of my same age do basically the same thing I do (though in a foreign language for her), but was seeing it from the outside. I wasn't just watching as me, I was watching from the perspective of a teacher and as a student and as an American and as a German. As someone who was new to this particular class myself, but not as new as the students presenting. As someone who's an English native speaker, but who has also given presentations in a foreign language. As the only American in a room of people speaking English and talking about America. Interesting, most definitely.

I like the 8th grade a lot. And the 7th grade. 9th is good, too. Totally not what I expected.

Last week was a rewarding one. I went into my Tuesday lessons feeling really unconfident. Kind of stressed, questioning my teaching abilities, etc. But the lessons actually went quite well...at least, no one started snoring during the lesson on South Africa, which had been the primary concern. This week's been good, too, but I've hardly had any lessons. Probably half have had tests or other things going on for which my presence or preparation was not needed.

Maybe that's been enough of a distraction to come back to more stats. To ease you in, I'll make this one Germany-related. Greifswald, my own fair town, has been declared the bicycle capital of Germany! A whopping 44% of Greifswaldians use the bike as their regular means of transportation (way of getting to work or school is I think what they're measuring). A quarter drive a car and another quarter walk. Perhaps the most surprising statistic of the whole report: only 2% use public transportation. Very strange for a German city.

Another fact I learned while doing crime research: there are towns in the U.S. with mandatory gun ownership laws. Yes. And "townS" was not a typo; the are more than one. There are so many problems with this, I don't even know where to start. So maybe I just won't.

Instead, how about South Africa? Did you know that, even though English is the language of business and government in South Africa, only 8.2% of people speak it as a first language? Afrikaans is more common, and Zulu, Xhosa, and a few other tribal languages even more so. All in all, South Africa has eleven official languages. That's got to be a record or something. Didn't look that up, though, so I don't know.

I know it's not yet Thanksgiving, but Christmas plans are already in the works. Itinerary includes: Christmas Eve and day in Leer, 2nd day of Christmas (also a holiday in Germany) in Quackenbrück, then on to Amsterdam, Ghent, Brugge, some small towns in Belgium, and Luxembourg. Oh, and before all this: Mallorca! Pretty excited. German markets and activities here are starting soon, so that should be fun. And I've been informed that Germans regularly eat duck around Christmas, so I guess I'll be making a vegetarianism exception for that meat-related food experience. When in Rome, right? Oh, and I'm playing with the orchestra (actually just a small version of the orchestra) at a concert we're doing in December with a youth choir from a nearby town. We had the rehearsal last week, and it was amazing! The piece is Mendelssohn's "Von Himmel Hoch," which is apparently sung frequently around Christmas. There's a lot of brass and a LOT of singers, so the sound is unbelievable. And the choir was so good! They sang a capella a few times to practice certain parts, and I was just in awe. To play in the middle of all of that....simply wonderful. Or maybe not so simple. I've got to practice that last movement...

Happy Thanksgiving to any reader who will be celebrating it! Eat some stuffing and pie for me! And a roll, green bean casserole, and cranberries. Maybe I can manage to make some mashed potatoes myself. Yams and turkey aren't necessary anyway.

Here's your fee-ord!: A Travelogue

As a general rule, I don't think it's good to believe that things happen "for a reason." I mean, in a scienfitic sense, sure, but I'm talking about the feeling that the events in your life happen because they were "meant" to. I'm probably offending many religious and optimistic people here, and I realize that there are definite psychological advantages to believing in some sort of predestination. Nevertheless, I find such a position dangerous. Saying that what happens was "meant" to happen can be used to dismiss valid emotions, gloss over serious social issues, and ignore (or even legitimize) injustice. But sometimes, things just work out so nicely that it seems they can hardly be the exclusive work of "Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men." At least, such were my thoughts as I stepped off the train in Geilo.

Geilo was a snow-covered town in the mountains of southern Norway, an unplanned stop on my way from Bergen to Oslo. The train I was riding was fully booked and I didn't have a reservation, so I had to get off as the train approached capacity. Best thing that could have happened. I walked for a few hours around the town, across the river (flowing, despite snow and the partially frozen lake it was connected to), into the mountains, up hills to solitary houses where everything was still, but multiple sets of footprints indicated that life continued to exist. When it comes to aesthetics, I'm a fan of the red-white-black color scheme, so I found the combination of the red houses (of which there were a lot), black rocks/railroad tracks/mountains/what have you, and white snow quite beautiful. Staggeringly beautiful, for Misty and anyone else who had Schultz.* Norway in general reminded me somewhat of Austria (but with a lot more water), and that's what I kept thinking of when I was in Geilo: particularly a stop I made in Innsbruck on a similarly snowy day. I had debated about whether to stop or just keep on going toward home, but once I was there, I just walked around for hours thinking how unbelievably pretty it was. That was Innsbruck, and that was Geilo.

I had so many other great experiences that were kind of chance ones--things I didn't plan, or things that just turned out better than I had hoped. Starting with my train to the airport, actually. I flew from Germany to Stockholm, but there's no airport in Greifswald, so I had to first take a train to Lübeck. And I almost missed my stop. Like, this close to missing it. It wasn't the main Lübeck stop, it was one on the outskirts. They didn't announce the name of the station (they always announce the name of the station!) and it just looked like a platform in the middle of nowhere (no airport in sight), so I hesitated before getting out. Right as he was pulling away, though, the engineer heard me ask someone else where we were, and he stopped the train for me! I had to run all the way to the back, because we we'd almost cleared the platform, but I made it out. That was the first case of good luck.

In Stockholm, I met my first CouchSurf host, who turned out to be awesome. We had an adventure right off the bat trying to get me a subway pass--for some reason the machines weren't working and the station workers didn't seem to believe us/know what to do. But he got me through and we eventually got it worked out. There was another guy staying with him at the same time, a really funny, talkative guy from Poland, and the three of us had fun discussing culture, conservatism, and types and tendencies of Swedish girls. We went to a nightclub, which was playing recorded standard pop in one room with a live country-rockish band in another. Our Polish friend was a really great dancer, so he was a lot of fun to watch (and try to dance with). The next day, my host and I toured the city. And watched some Swedish TV, which was actually American TV with Swedish subtitles. So it goes in Europe, I see.

Göteborg was next, and I had great luck with my CouchSurf host again. On the first day, Sara and I went to this exhibit that included recordings of dead/dying languages. Both of us language enthusiasts, we enjoyed it a lot. There was one language that sounded like the people speaking were just saying the same sentence or phrases over and over, kind of chanting it, but the translation showed that they were all unique sentences. And another one involved a lady trilling "Prrrrrr" at the end of every sentence! After that, we went to a cozy little cafe that was named after the home of Pippi Longstocking (a Swedish creation) and walked around town for awhile. We talked, baked a cake, ate some spiced salmon (and the surprisingly good sauce that goes with it), and went to bed early. The next day, we did more city-touring and found a really big (3-story!) second-hand shop that we spent a long time browsing. I bought a hat! I had no idea at the time how useful it would soon become.

Before it happened, I was looking forward to my night train trip to Luleå. I had a real book, an audio book, hours of NPR podcasts, and an ability to sleep in train seats, so I figured I'd be fine. However, my iPod battery was dead from the get-to, and I just couldn't get myself into the novel. Eventually I fell asleep, then the sun rose enough to look at the scenery, and the book got somewhat easier to follow. So I survived. But it was a long 19 hours!

Luleå, it seems, is a great place to go for summer hiking or a variety of winter sports. It's way up north in Sweden, not quite past, but pretty close to, the Arctic Circle. Definitely in very-short-days-and-Northern-Lights territory. I met up with a guy I'd contacted on the CouchSurfing website and he told me about all the great stuff you can do in winter and summer. But I was there in the fall. Kind of a purgatory state, but I still had fun. I spent most of my time at the old "church village," wandering among the old cabins that people used as a place to stay when they made the long journey into town on church weekends (apparently not every weekend...much too far to go). There were also some larger houses, many of which seem to be permanently inhabited. At least, I could smell food, see lights in the windows, and hear piano music coming out of them.

Another night train took me from Luleå into Norway (by this point, it'd been awhile since I'd had a shower; the hat's first duty was to cover up my terrible-looking hair!). The transfer I had to make in Östersund turned out to be another nice gift from chance (or maybe the kings and desperate men who run the railroads?). In any case, I had a little time to walk around the city as the sun was rising. I tried a Swedish cinnamon roll, which had be highly recommended in Stockholm and Göteborg. Sara had assured me that it was not like an American cinnamon roll. It was different, but turned to be still too much like a cinnamon roll for my taste and also had this weird Beigeschmack that placed it alongside the so-called Scandinavian "carmel cheese" as something that I don't really care to try again.

Once in Norway, I met up with Hildegunn and had a fabulous time traveling with her. The weather was fantastic pretty much the whole time we were together, so we got to be out in the Norwegian countryside a good deal. The first day in Trondheim, she showed me the sites and took me to this rotating restaurant in a tower that overlooked the city. The view was amazing, the pizza was good (after performing the surgery needed to make it vegetarian), and we sat from afternoon until nighttime as Trondheim spun around imperceptibly. The next day, we took a bus up into the mountains (actually merely hills, as I would later find out) to the building where most of Hildegunn's classes were. I accompanied her to a class (or the first half of the class...then I got bored and went to explore the bookstore), and we walked back home through neighborhoods and farmland. I guess it was cold, but it just felt fresh. Despite the country's heavy involvement in the oil industry (and thus partial responsibility for the smog in cities around the world), clean mountain air is what I'm now going to associate with Norway.**

A night bus (I'm now an expert on these things!) took us to Nordfjordeid, Hildegunn's hometown. We drove around on the scary really-just-one-lane-that-they-try-to-tell-you-is-two roads that cut through the mountains (actual mountains now!) and saw the fjord that the town is named after. I found it hard to believe that nowhere else in the world has a fjord coast like Norway, but if you look at a map, it's true. The western coast looks like someone started to push it through a paper shredder, but then pulled it out before much damage could be done. The "damage," though, is nothing like damage. More like supreme gorgeousness.

We saw the fjord from a different perspective as we took a ferry south to Bergen. Another coastal, mountain-surrounded city, Bergen is the second-largest city in Norway. It had more of a big-city-feel than the third-largest (Trondheim), but was still small enough to be somewhat "towny." The highlight of the day was the trip up the mountains, from which we had a spectacular view of the (opposite) mountains, fjord, and city. A good event made even better by the train ride up with three American tourists who fit the bill of "American tourists" to a tee. When one of them (a 50-some-year-old man) asked contemplatively: "Why do they call them fingernails and toenails?," I laughed audibly.*** When he later mused that his fingernails were dry (as opposed to "wet"), then started taunting his wife with his dry fingernails, I about lost it. Fortunately, they were oblivious to my amuseument. In typical American-tourist fashion (I know, I've been part of these groups), they were blissfully unaware that were talking at a volume several times that of anyone else on the train. I don't know what it is about Americans, but our voices sure do carry.

The rest of the day in Bergen were relaxing: pizza (yeah, not so "Norwegian," unfortunately) at a restaurant in the afternoon and the Norwegian version of "Dancing with the Stars" at Hildegunn's sister's apartment at night. Throughout this whole trip, I was really excited about the languages and all the connections I could make between Norwegian/Swedish, English, and German, and then between Norwegian and Swedish themselves, once I had had exposure to both. I talked with many of the people I met about the relationships between the Scandinavian languages, and it seems that a Norwegian and a Swede could converse relatively effectively, each in his own language--perhaps in the way an Italian would talk to someone from Spain. When I was watching TV with Hildegunn, she'd say every once in awhile, "He's talking in Swedish." The TV station didn't bother translating it, so I guess they assumed everyone could understand all right. I think that's so cool. As far as I can tell, the only thing an English-speaker can understand without lots of training is English. Granted, there are several types of that. The 11th graders have started reading Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, and it just sounds so ridiculous to hear the play (which is transliterated to reflect a southern U.S. dialect) read with a German/British-English accent. But I digress.

After Bergen was my unintentional stop at Geilo and some unintentional communication problems with the CouchSurf host I had lined up for Oslo. We never did meet up, so I had to find a hostel once I got to Oslo, which actually worked out just fine. I did some cold and rainy sightseeing the next day and spent the night in the airport from which my plane was to leave the next morning. Sleeping in the airport was much better than it sounds. It was really quiet at night--almost deserted but for another group of students who came in, fortunately after I had already claimed a comfy couch to sleep on! By far the best airport for spending the night that I've ever encountered.

So the next day I flew back to Bremen, then rode back to Greifswald. The whole trip was wonderful, but it felt so nice to get off the plane in Bremen. I've spent maybe 8 hours in Bremen in my life, but nevertheless, it felt like I was coming home. Bremen meant Germany, which the calculator tells me has now been my home for 2.973% of my life. Guess I've managed to make myself a decently comfortable nest in this little griffin's forest here.

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*Also for Misty: one of the English teachers pronounces "obviously" "obVIously." Doesn't she know you're not supposed to accent the "vi" but the "b"?!

**Perhaps to atone for its oil sins, Norway's very supportive of electric cars. I saw two while I was there. I don't think I'd ever seen one in real life before! (Which, now that I think about it, is really sad.)

***This loveable threesome is also responsible for the title of today's blog entry.

"We'd sing and dance forever and a day"

I was kind of uncertain as I stood in the grocery store line, reading the label on the jar in my hand. "Middle-sharp mustard" was listed as the basis of the sandwich spread, and I wondered by just whose standards it was considered "middle" sharp. It turned out to be good, though, and I added another product to my (mental) German-food-experience list. The next-to-last entry was a type of fish--Schillerlocken--which is (says the dictionary) "curled smoked strips of (spiny) dogfish." That was great as well. I got it from a smokehouse with a big fish counter, like the meat counter in a butcher shop. I'd never seen that many types of fish/fish products in one place. There were a variety of different fish "salads" and three types of fish Sülze, which is meat in gelatin (these versions included vegetables and even hard-boiled eggs, as well). I don't think my food tasting will take me quite that far, but they did admittedly look better than the similar products made from pork.

In addition to the food, I got a little taste of German music over the weekend as well. Greifswald held its semi-annual "Musiknacht," a festival involving 11 bands playing in 11 different restaurants in the city center. I went with Carsta and several of her friends. It was a little awkward entering this group of people I didn't know and who were all 15-20 years older than me, but they were nice enough. We discussed which languages are the most important to learn, and I (somehow) got into a conversation with one of them on immigration and his belief that Muslims should be kept out of Germany. That was super interesting. He wanted to make it very clear to me that he was a nationalist, but not a Nazi. "No Nazi," he repeated in English to make sure I understood. So why did he want to keep the Muslims out? "Because it's Germany," he said, "and Islam is not Germany." Maybe not traditionally, I admitted, but why couldn't it be? Besides, the Muslims aren't going to try to convert him; they just want to live here. He didn't exactly have an answer. I asked about Jews. This was a hard one. He said that Jews were maybe OK because they were kind of Christian. Hm. I decided not to broach the subject of Buddhism or any other religion that was "not Germany," though I'd be curious to know what he thought. Most "nationalism" here seems to be targeted at folks from the Middle East.

So back to the Musik: we only ended up going to three different bars, which was kind of disappointing to me, basically because I wanted to hear the "we're not just a CCR cover band" band that was on the program. Supposedly this event happens again in April, so when I go again I'll break out on my own. The first place we went was the best. It was a trio: one on piano, one singer, and one playing violin/unidentifiable horn/percussion. They played some boogie (that's what they called it, at least), as well as German Schläger from the 1950s-60s, and lots of requests from the audience. The musicians were great. The pianist was amazing--and apparently kind of famous in this area for his improvisational skills. I don't think this particular group is on YouTube, but so you can get an idea of SOME of what they did, I'll attach a couple of links of audience favorites. The audience was a big part of what made the experience enjoyable. The highlight of the day was the song "Those Were the Days," which the singer sang in Russian, then English, then German. And then the pianist tried to do it in French. Anyway, the crowd was SUPER into it. Clapping like crazy with the refrain, singing along, a couple even dancing. With the Russian music I felt like I was in the DDR or something. It was great.

Speaking of DDR things, I found a used book/record store the other day. There were sections for all kinds of genres, including "DDR science fiction," "DDR comic books," "DDR mysteries," and for records, "DDR Schläger." It was really interesting to me that these were separate sections: it seems to imply that the works are somehow innately different from what came before and after because they were written under a divided Germany. Maybe I'll get around to reading some DDR Sci-Fi and report back later.

Oh, for anyone who was worried about my broken bike: it's now all better! Fixed by the Berufs Bildungs Werk (trainees) for the reasonable cost of 5,22 Euros.

I've given lots of lessons this week so far. Today was immigration to/immigrants in America, "She's leaving home" by the Beatles, "One world (not three)" by Sting, and inviting people/giving compliments/asking for something to be repeated. Yesterday included an extension of "dating in America," and tomorrow I'll have the 7th graders make an itinerary for my hypothetical trip to London. The teaching itself is going pretty well. I'm trying to learn names so I can call on people easily and not just take those who raise their hands. They expect that, I think, and often have a decent answer, even if they didn't volunteer to share it. In a class that I visited for the first time yesterday, the students already knew my name, as the previous TA had told them I was coming. That really surprised me. Generally, the students haven't made any references to the girl who came before. Anyway, it was nice to be a celebrity from the get-go, since I was teaching a lesson to them without having "observed" their class first.

After about a month of putting it off for fear of disturbing people, I practiced my violin in my dorm for the first time last week (hopefully no former music teachers are reading this!). The feedback from my hall-mates was positive. I felt like I was being loud despite the mute, but I was informed that it was quiet and very nice, and that I should play more often. And now I have a reason to! Since the semester just started here, the university orchestra's first rehearsal was last Thursday. I went and was welcomed wholeheartedly, so I'll be playing some Tchaikovsky (always good!), above-average Mozart, and Elgar's Enigma Variations this semester. And even going to Bremen (5-6 hours away by train) to perform. I'm happy!

Also in my spare time, I'm learning the art of Scottish Country Dance! I enrolled in a class through the university, but it's open to all members of the community. It's fun, and I figure it's a good way to meet people. The kind of people who do this sort of thing are usually friendly. Downside is that it's not as much of a workout as I'd hoped...the Irish dancing I did over interterm was much better in that respect. I'll have to figure out another way to slim down to the average size of a person in what is still supposedly the "fattest" country in Europe. (Man...unglaublich.)
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Some songs! Even if you don't understand German, you should listen anyway. It's about the style!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YEXemN9tZY&feature=related (Translation: I don't want chocolate; I'd rather have a man)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9PO5NQtPZ4 (First in Russian, then in English)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HrtQGWtSzQ (Translation, from Bavarian to German to English: "Don't you have a man for me?" Then she goes through her list of required characteristics and looks at a bunch of pictures of possible suitors but doesn't find anyone to suit her.)

Doch ein Ossi

Ever wonder why Germans use the progressive tenses more frequently than seems natural?* Apparently, it's because they're taught to. Maybe not in the footnoted example, but certainly in some cases where it may be technically correct but sounds strange to a native speaker. This came to my attention when one of the classes did a worksheet about Laurel and Hardy. They were supposed to fill in the blanks in the text with the correct form of a given verb. In general, I agreed with the answer key, but there were a couple of questionable sentences. For example: "Over the years, many critics have been analyzing the skits of Laurel and Hardy to find the secret to their success." And "Since the 1920s, L&H fans have watched the films again and again and have been laughing every time." I would say "have analyzed" in the first case. The second one is just awkward, but I think you could just say simply "laugh" and it'd work. Definitely not "have been laughing." Auf keinen Fall! Technically, however, it may be right. This puts me in even greater doubt of the inherent grammatical prowess I used to think I had. English professors have caught me breaking rules I had no idea existed, and I'm finding that there's still plenty that falls through the grammar error-catching cracks.

Yesterday was Friday, and thus my non-weekend day off. I spent the early afternoon on a bike ride in the area to the northwest of Greifswald. I set out in the direction of Stralsund (36 km, 22 miles away), but didn't have any idea how far I could reasonbly expect to make it. I was planning on taking all day for the trip, but had gotten a call from Carsta (my mentor-teacher) the day before, inviting me to a guitar concert that evening. Just as well (or better), as it turned out, because three hours of bike riding was really enough for me. The land here is clearly no waffle, but is still certainly more hilly than a pancake. In any case, the way to Stralsund is a steady uphill grade, and most of the roads I was riding on approached the waffle category (cobblestone, or otherwise beschädigt). My three hours of riding didn't get me to Stralsund, but GoogleMaps tells me the distance I went was probably even greater, what with the getting lost and intentional detours and all. Whether it was the terrible roads or just general exertion/exhaustion, my bike gave out on me on the way home. Some sort of peddle-tension cable snapped, so now the peddles just spin. Fortunately, this happened within a half-hour walk of my house and not when I was 10 miles away from Greifswald! Next week, I'll see about getting it fixed. Carsta's husband works at a shop that employs handicapped people to do repair work very cheaply. I think you just pay the cost of materials. Sounds kind of like exploitation when I write it that way, but I guess the workers are probably getting something out of the deal. ? We'll hope so.

The guitar concert in the evening was really great. It took place in this fairly small venue where they apparently have all kinds of "cultural" events/performances. The write-up I saw about the concert showed this Spanish-looking, Spanish-named, dark haired, muscular guy sitting on some rocks and playing guitar while looking out over the ocean. Exotic, intense, and poetic. As it turned out, he was from the German state of Sachsen,** was really funny and seemed really friendly, and was actually named "Jörg." He played acoustic guitar, but used an electronic looping machine to play over himself. The style was kinda folky, sometimes Spanishy, moderately jazzy, bordering on rocky, and really hard to describe. And sometimes included didgeridoo! He had a couple awesome pieces that he "made" by looping guitar chords/melodies, didgeridoo, and rainstick, and then playing overtop of it on the guitar. So unique. I think that's part of what really made the concert great for me. Aside from the fact that he was super-talented technique-wise, he was obviously doing something completely his own. His sense of humor/stage presence complemented that and made for a very enjoyable atmosphere. "Stimmung!" he scream-whispered into the atmosphere a couple times. Stimmung, indeed.***

It's time to check my laundry, which I think has finally made it through a wash cycle (after a few hours and me setting the dial forward a couple times). I don't understand what the deal with it is (definitely broken), but it's free and eventually gets things clean, so I certainly can't complain!
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*For example: "At my job, I am cleaning the mirrors, taking out the trash, and often using the present progressive."
**The blog entry title for today relates to this. The concert started about 15 minutes late, which is quite something in this land of punctuality, and Carsta commented to me that this must mean the musician is a "Wessi" (West German). Apparently, East Germans (Ossis) always start on time. When she found out he came from Sachsen, she had to admit that he "was too" from the East.
***Can incidentally mean either "mood"/"atmosphere" or "tuning."
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Sunday afternoon update! Here are a few guitarist-related links for Sarah H. and anyone else who's interested. They're all quite different, so don't give up if you don't like one!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvTf7LHtO_U&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDy13Y8_glE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oddiOIbt9io&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_iF3Pwmj_Q&feature=related

Thanksgiving comes around early here

Sometimes disappointed plans can be a good thing. I went to bed on Friday night all excited about a long bike ride I had planned for the next day. I knew I was probably being a little overly hopeful as it's been off-and-on rainy here recently. Sure enough, I awoke Saturday morning to gray, clouds, and drizzle. Checked the weekend weather forecast: Sunday was supposed to be nice(r). OK. That could work. Grad school apps Saturday, bike ride Sunday. As it turned out, the drizzle stopped by afternoon. Realizing it was "German Reunification Day," I walked into the city where there was a market, extra-long shopping hours, and a ton of people. The vendors sold standard farmer's market fare--fresh produce, homemade jellies, and crafts--in addition to a seemingly inordinate amount of sausage. And flowers! More than you could imagine; unless you've been to Germany, and then maybe you can. I bought some apples from a couple nice ladies for a Euro a kilo (really cheap!) that happened to be just about the best apples I've ever had. Firm and crisp and juicy and pleasantly sour. I should have got another 2 or 3 kilos. There were a ton of people out for the festivities, and almost all of the downtown shops were open, despite the fact that it was a Saturday and a holiday. The atmosphere in the town was just great, and I had a good time: a few street musicians, early fall weather, good-tempered people speaking German and I'm content.

After I got back to my dorm, I got a call from the civics teacher at my school, inviting me to go with his family to the "Erntedankfest" (thanksgiving) service at a church the next day. I agreed, of course, moderately disappointed that my bike ride was going to be yet again delayed. As it turned out, Sunday was approximately the windiest day ever, and riding a bike over long distances would have been terrible. I rode for about a half-hour that morning, which was quite enough for me. The church service, unlike most in small-town East Germany, was well-attended. Thanksgiving in Germany is strictly a church celebration--no big feasts or football games or even much recognition. The church was in a farming area outside of Greifswald, so people brought with them home-grown produce, as well as store-bought bread and flowers and potatoes. They piled everything up on a table in front of the altar and the preacher talked about being thankful for what we have...and some other kind of tangential topics. The service was interesting for me, because it seemed more relaxed than other German "evangelische" (protestant) services I've been to (admittedly, not that many). The pastor exuded energy and even succeeded in getting the congregation to sing and clap along with his guitar-playing and the kids' singing.* After the service, everyone went to a nearby building for coffee and cake. Yum. Germans are cake-baking experts. And the coffee wasn't bad either.

The teacher (named Jürgen, incidentally) took a long detour home to show me around the agricultural area and the beach opposite downtown Greifswald. The wind, as already mentioned, was super strong, so the water was dotted with white caps, and the brush and pine trees leading up to the beach were all blowing toward the water. Jürgen told me all about the farms in the area and talked about differences between the DDR time and post-reunification. From what I gather, Greifswald was in pretty bad shape under communism. I've seen pictures of dilapidated buildings and rubble and poorly-maintained streets. After the wall fell, the upkeep was much better. Building materials were no longer luxury goods. However, in some cases, reunification had the opposite effect. Many large farm houses now stand empty and run-down because of the large number of people who left once the border opened. I was surprised to find that this exit-trend still continues. Of 27 students who went to a recent 10-year reunion at the high school, he said, only two were still living in the east.

The ex-East effect is also visible in the churches. Certainly, it's a Germany-wide trend that church attendance is shrinking, but since it was so strongly discouraged by the Soviets, it's extra-unpopular here. Jürgen said that when he goes to church, there are maybe 4 or 5 people at the service. I think a big part of this issues is that Germany has SO MANY churches! They were built when everybody used to go; now no ones goes, but the buildings/congregations still exist still have a pastor preaching there. I'd think a little consolidation might be in order. Then again, I wouldn't support tearing them down, and I don't know how else they're going to be maintained.

So, in sum: good weekend. I really can not get over how in love with this place I am. I'm struck like 3 or 4 times a day by how beautiful it is, both from a natural and an architectural perspective. ** Also, the atmosphere's just great. Like at that market on Saturday, or with any of the genuinely friendly people I've met here. Plus, it's the East! From a curious-about-everything historian's perspective, I got pretty lucky!

In other news: found out today that I have money in and access to my new bank account! That's a very good thing. I feel like I'm spending a lot, and now maybe I'll finally stop mentally converting all the Euro prices into dollars!
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*Reminded me a lot of Tedd, for anyone to whom that means something.
**Learned that much of the architecture here is called "Backsteingotisch" (red-brick gothic). No wonder I like it--combines a good architectural style with one of my favorite building materials!

A Foreign Minority

So I believe I wrote in an earlier post (in an accomplishment-enduced mood of generosity), that the foreign registration office could "background-check me to their hearts' content." I am now officially revoking that statement. It's been nearly 3 weeks since they told me I'd get my permit in 1-2, and this whole thing is just getting ridiculous. I go to the office to see if this folder from Heidelberg has arrived. They tell me "no, call again tomorrow." So I call. No folder. "Check back in a day or two." So I do. No folder. "It's got to get here soon; call back." No folder. The lady said today she'd send an e-mail to Heidelberg. Even if that miraculously induces some action among the workers down south, the file still has to travel here and be reviewed and whatnot. All this wouldn't matter, except that I wanted to enroll in the university this semester (got my paperwork submitted and everything), but I have to show the school a visa to prove I can study here by tomorrow, which clearly isn't going to happen. I kind of wish I had the temperament (and vocabulary) to get mad at these people. Since I don't, I'm taking the angsty-teenager route and writing about it on my blog. Oh gosh. I apologize.

On the brighter side of bureaucracy, I'm finally figuring out the complicated processes surrounding German banking and the absolutely-not-made-clear stipulations of the German train system's "BahnCard25." If you're ever considering buying one of these things, talk to me first! The website does not tell you the whole story. One thing I'm quickly finding out is that the easiest way to good answers is to just go and talk to people face-to-face. If you're lucky, they'll think your accent's cute and take off whatever coat of steely reservation they put on when they became a office worker.

Relatedly: I like watching people's faces when I speak to them for the first time. You can almost always tell just when they detect you're a foreigner. It's something of a twitch toward a smile which quickly disappears as they realize you are going to ask them a question and they better pay attention so they can do their job.

I found out the other day, while browsing around on the German census bureau-like website,* that Mecklenburg-Vorpommern has nearly the lowest percentage of foreigners of any state in Germany (2.4%). A couple states were just a few tenths-of-a-percent lower, but most were considerably higher; the national average was 8.8%. What was super-interesting was the huge discrepancy between former West German states and East German ones. My calculator's broken, so I'm not gonna figure up exact averages, but we're talking like 10% foreign population vs. 2%.

Also interesting (to me, maybe not to anyone else): average age at first marriage. In the U.S., 27.7 for men, 26 for women. In Germany: 33 men, 30 women. A solid 4-5 years higher in Germany. And considerably higher than in some American states. I think it was Utah that married off the average woman at age 21.9.

Did my last week of "observation" at school this week, so I guess tomorrow we'll try to draft a regular schedule. I've gotten to see classes at pretty much all levels now, and even gotten a taste of classroom discipline. Some 9th grade boys got in trouble for smoking tea. A girl attacked a bathroom door. Each student in an entire 10th grade class failed their assignment to speak for one minute on a particular topic. Oh, high school.

Speaking of school-related things, my new (temporary) favorite German word is "eingeschult." (Past particple of "einschulen." Related words: "das Einschulen," "die Einschulung.") Definition: um....the passive, past-tense way to express that someone started school. We don't have that in English. Not that there's any reason you need it.
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*www.destatis.de, if you're interested. The site's in English.

In response to those who have expressed fears or doubts regarding the functionability of my camera

Here are a few pictures. I really haven't taken that many. Poor lighting, lack of desire to look like a tourist, and intent not to overdo the picture-taking are responsible. Perhaps these will suffice for the time being.

My dorm. I live on the second (Americanly-defined) floor. Our kitchen has a balcony (center), with vines and sunflowers.

The Ryck river, as it runs through the harbor at Wieck.

A few of the several wood carvings around the bay. Makes me think of Nantucket, Coleridge, and Moby-Dick, though I've no logical support for those associations--other than the water.

Das Rathaus. "City hall." Hearing it called that annoys me, and I have no idea why. Maybe it's because I can still hear the recorded female voice from the Heidelberg bus system saying it in my head. Like "Marktplatz," "Hauptbahnhof," and "Dom," it's just one of those things I prefer to leave untranslated.

The Bike Ride

And after all the weather was ideal. She could not have had a more perfect day for a bike-ride if she'd ordered it. Breezy, mild, the sky covered in clouds. Only the blue-grey was cut through with lines of pink, blue, and a haze of light gold, as it sometimes is in early fall. The Fulbright TA had been up since a quarter to nine, writing an essay and revising it, until the sentences and the rough ideas seemed to form something coherent and clear. As for the essay, you could not help feeling it understood that essays are what really impress people at a grad school, but that it could not be of use at the place which was most important of all. Hundreds, yes, literally hundreds of words had come out to form this essay; William & Mary wanted only 250, and those in response to their own specific question.

Afternoon was not yet over before she went out to go buy flour.

"Where do you think I should put the bike?" asked the just-arrived Russian exchange student, trying to find a spot in the crowded bicycle cage.
"Over to the left a little should be fine." Just two weeks here herself and the TA was assumed to be an authority on the rules governing the bike cage, kitchen, bathroom, and moderately-broken washing machine.

Away the Fulbrighter flew, peddling easily with the bike light successfully turned off. It's so delicious to have an excuse for being out of doors, and besides, she planned to go much farther than Lidl. She loved seeing new parts of Greifswald; she always felt there was something more to discover.

A couple in H&M sweatshirts stood together in the grocery store line. They carried bottles of tea and a large pack of beer and had big backpacks slung over their shoulders. They looked German. Justine wished now that she had not gotten the leaking bag of flour, but there was nowhere to put it, and she couldn't possibly throw it away.

"Hallo," she said to the cashier, copying the Germans' accent. But it sounded so fearfully American that she wondered, as she often did on such occasions, how obvious her accent really was--how long it would take for someone to say, "Oh - er - have you come - are you not really German?"
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That's about as far as I can take the copy change (guess my day wasn't that exciting). Be the first to figure out the source (i.e. what already-written work this post is based on), and you get a prize! No idea what the prize is, but I probably won't see you for at least 9 months, so I have some time to figure it out. And you have some time to forget all about it. ;)

Katharina Feike: "Die macht was." Like visting my dorm!

So, I'm pretty sure I saw a German celebrity coming out of my dorm yesterday evening. I left to go on a short bike ride and saw this car:

parked outside the building. Strange. A lot of the election posters I've been seeing around are for the woman it's promoting: Katharina Feike--SPD candidate for the Bundestag seat from the district that includes Greifswald. (OK, maybe not exactly a German celebrity, but a Mecklenburg-Vorpommern one.) Anyway, I didn't really think too much of it, but when I came back to the dorm, this lady who greatly resembled the woman on the posters came out and got in the car. I half-smiled at her. She half-smiled back in what I imagined to be a acknowledgment of my presumed recognition. "Yeah," the smile said. '"I am who you think I am." I have absolutely no idea what she would have been doing in a random dorm in Greifswald (she came out with one of those clothes-carrying bags, but that doesn't give me much of a hint).* The whole encounter doesn't exactly equal the experience I had a year ago of seeing (let me catch my breath)...Ralph Nader...but nevertheless: Katharina Feike sighting at Makarenkostraße 48A.
The other exciting news (arguably even more thrilling than the last), is that I'll be going to Norway and Sweden! I have a break at the end of October which, with weekends and other days off, ends up being fairly lengthy. I'm still trying to figure out exactly where I want to go in Sweden, then I'm going to meet up in Norway with Hildegunn, an awesome exchange student from high school. She'll show me around the city where she's studying, and her hometown, and some other reportedly cool sites in the southern part. I'm super-excited! Um...and keep getting distracted from writing this to do Sweden research. It must have been over an hour ago that I wrote the rest of this paragraph.
"Project Week" at my school has been a little disappointing. I'm working with a class doing projects on Greifswald and was envisioning whole-class fieldtrips to areas/sites/museums/libraries in the town, which would have been really cool to take part in. But they're actually each working in small groups (or in pairs, or alone) on individual projects, so there's really nothing for me to do. I've been using the time to go over all the teaching material that past TAs have left here, so it has been productive. It's also been quite interesting, as I've come across articles and statistics on stuff like the lack of boys in post-high school education, why boys don't succeed as well in traditional classrooms (and thoughts on gender-segregated education), teen sex rates in various countries, and the history of abortion (and related laws). Great stuff. Tomorrow I'm going to help this kid make a map of the city in English (?) and maybe help a group of girls who are considering (at the strong encouragment of the teacher, who wants to put me to good use) translating their project into English. On Friday, all the groups will give presentations on their topics, so that should be fun to watch.
Went for a bike ride last Sunday along the Ryck (river that goes through the city and empties in the "Wiek") and saw more of the harbor area. It was a warm, sunny day, so lots of people were out riding bikes and fishing. I rode around some neighborhoods, saw a church, and found (quite by accident) a beach! A nude-friendly beach, as it turned out. Maybe I haven't been to enough beaches in America, but I don't think you'd encounter naked people at one not specifically designated as "nudist," would you? Made me wonder. Anyway, it was really nice there, so I stayed for quite awhile, reading Atlas Shrugged and eating grapes from a fruit stand I had found earlier.
Speaking of fruit and things that make me happy: delicious pears for 0.79 cents/kilo at Lidl! A bargain even on a budget! I'm gonna have to go back for more.
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*Maybe she's actually a stunt-double. It would explain the clothes-changing. Also, do those clothes bags have a name? I can't figure out what it is.

Winning, wondering, Wieck weekend, Wahl

Erfolg! You are now aquainted with the proud holder of a bank account at the Sparkasse Vorpommern in Greifswald, Germany! I'm super-excited about this because, well, it means I can get paid, and because I didn't think I'd be able to say that for at least another two weeks. I didn't whip up any cream puffs, but I did go down to the foreign registration office with my teacher to see what the deal was and if they could hurry up this whole background check thing. The ensuing conversation was pretty ridiculous. My teacher kept asking them why I couldn't get my residence permit immediately as TAs have for the past 10 years, and they kept giving vague answers like, "The rules change." (Which rules? When?) And then they brought in Sept. 11! Um...that was 8 years ago. If the rules were going to change because of that, I think they would have done so before now. Anyway, the workers said they'd hurry (even showed us the papers stamped "eilt"), but there wasn't really anything else we could do. Getting impatient to get forms turned into Fulbright, the German ministry that pays me, and my landlady, I decided to try to open a bank account despite my lack of a permit. First, I went to the Deutsche Bank. There I was rejected. Dang. So I decided to try the Sparkasse, and it worked! (Anyone planning on living in Germany in the future, take note.) So that means that 95% of my bureaucratic business is done, and I'm happy to let the foreigners' office background-check me to their hearts' content.

Speaking of backgroud-checks (of sorts), my classroom observing has taken me into some younger classes (6, 7, and 8) and brought me out of the observation role into that of interogee. With the 6th graders, the first 45 minutes of the lesson were a free-for-all, ask-the-real-life-American-anything-you-can-think of session. And they took full advantage of it. I was asked everything from my favorite animal/book/movie/soccer team to my thoughts on Germany to my familiarity with Michael Jordan/David Beckham/Green Day/several sites in California (a few couldn't quite get the Kansas/California difference straight in their minds).* And they were eager to tell me all kinds of stuff about themselves, too. Someone would ask me my favorite song, so I'd ask them theirs, and then eight more hands would shoot up to give their answer. Pretty adorable, I must say.

When I got to Greifswald, I was informed that I had a bike waiting for me, but not which one or where it was. Today I picked it out of the dozens stashed near my dorm, opening up a whole new realm of possibilities for Greifswald-discovery. Don't know how long it's been since I've ridden a bike, but (until today) I'm confident I could accurately say "years." The bike is actually in pretty decent shape, is most likely younger than I am, and seems to have decent brakes, tire alignment, etc. And it has a basket on the back and peddle-powered light on the front, which are not only very practical, but also very German! So I rode on my very German, new-old bike--right pant leg rolled up and everything--down to the water and a section of town called "Wieck." Wieck is on the "Dänische Wiek," "Wiek" apparently being a small bay in various northern dialects. There it was gorgeous. The weather was just on the warm side of mild with a cool breeze off the bay. I stopped at one of the many fish-selling stands to get a sandwich.** I was seriously considering trying eel, but I chickened out when the people ahead of me ordered a whole one to go. Looked just like a paralyzed snake (complete with face). Major psychological block. Don't despair for my sense of adventure yet, though. I've got another 9 1/2 months to work up the courage, and I promise to try it before I go home.

As I ate my faceless fish, I walked along this natural wall/dam lining the bay. To the right was the water, to the left were white houses with bright, blooming flower gardens and laundry blowing in the breeze. There was a distant church bell, and someone calling to his neighbor, and sounds of seagulls from the water. Other than that, still. Because of that, peaceful. When I was in Heidelberg, I never had any desire to live there, even though it's supposed to be so romantic and pretty. Here, though. I think I could live in Greifswald.

Don't get too worried yet if you're afraid you'll never see me again. I think the same thing every time I go to Colorado. Or Lawrence.

Riding back from Wieck, I saw for the first time a whole bunch of posters for the NPD. There's an election coming up here soon, so I've been seeing SPD and CDU*** posters everywhere. It's been really interesting looking at how the different parties advertise. The SPD poster campaign consists of signs with position statements starting with "because" (for example, "Because good work should be rewarded"), then "for that reason, SPD." (Sounds better in German.) The CDU posters mostly just contain the slogans "We have the power" or "Power in crisis," with a picture of German chancellor Angela Merkel. "We have good ideas!" the SPD seems to say. "But we're in charge," retorts Angela, piercing twinkle in her eye. Or so it seems when the posters appear side-by-side.

But the NPD posters. Those I hadn't seen until today. The NPD are the "nationalists" (by their terms), "neo-Nazis" by other people's. The posters claim that theirs is the party to fight joblessness and the break-down of society. They emphasize work for Germans first (or, more directly, that foreigners should go home). I heard from other students at the Fulbright orientation that Meck-Pomm and the East in general housed much of the residual-Nazi sentiment in Germany. I guess we'll see. From what I can tell, it's a very small group of people who make quite a bit of noise.

****

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*They also seem not to realize that "kennen" is not an English word. "Kenn you the Chicago Bulls?" Zum Beispiel.

**I've decided to make a fish-exception to my vegetarianism, for the sake of omega-3 fatty acids and trying regional specialties. Maybe I shouldn't. Overfishing, it seems, is something of a problem.

***The two main German parties. SPD = left, CDU = right (but the German "right," which is still kind of left).

**** "We have the power"--"Because good and free education is a right"--"Have a good trip home!" As a side note, I think the SPD position on education is fascinating. Good and free education a right? Man. For someone coming off a $30,000/yr. education, it seems unbelievable. That's really how a lot of people see it, though. Most German universities do not charge tuition (it's only quite recently that some have started to). And those that do? 500 Euros a semester. Petty cash compared to anything in the U.S.

Red tape, Red heros

In the battle with bureaucracy, I'm taking a beating. It'd be easier to be mad at my adversaries if they were rude and curt and unhelpful, but they're not. They're people who (very kindly) direct me kilometers out of my way when I ask where the town's registration office is; signs that proclaim (without malice) inconvenient office hours; workers who tell me (using the polite form of address) that they need not just my health insurance card, but also whatever papers came with it (?!); a bureaucratic process that requires a background check on me that will take 1-2 weeks. Actually, I am kinda upset about the last one. I don't think I can open a bank account until I have the paperwork from them, so everything else is on hold until that point. Since I had a residence permit in Heidelberg, they have to have the office there send my file here or something. Technically, I'm not even supposed to work yet since my visa still says "tourist," but I'm not planing on telling anyone, so I should be fine. I just want to get all these forms and offices dealt with, but it looks like that's not going to happen as soon as I'd hoped.
Anyway, enough of the complaining. My first days here have been good. So far I've done a lot of walking around, a lot of sleeping, and a little bit of classroom observing. I've sat in on three English class periods so far--all 9th grade, but all with different teachers. It's interesting to see how the different teachers handle the class, and in what language they conduct it. Everything has been primarily in English, though the teachers, to varying degrees, resort to German for clarification or allow/not allow questions from the students in German. Hopefully soon I'll get to see some other grade levels!
In my last post, I mentioned living in a residential area and was thinking as I walked around it some more, I should probably clarify what I mean by that. If you're imagining American suburbia, you're way off. If you're imagining downtown Lawrence or inner-city Chicago, you're wrong too. The residences are all large apartment complexes. I walked to the outskirts of Greifswald and found some real houses one day, but apartment living is generally more common in Germany and seems to be particularly so where I live.
The state I'm in, for those of you not so well-acquainted with German geography, is in the former East. Back in the DDR-days, my mentoring teacher (a Greifswald-native) told me, everything was gray. She showed me a picture of an apartment high rise that looked figuratively very cold: no flowers, no trees, no people, no colors. Now they seem to be making up for lost time. Greifswald--especially my little high-rise area--strikes me as very colorful. The apartment buildings are painted brightly: sometimes just the trim is painted, sometimes there are murals, sometimes random geometric shapes, like the four large somewhat-overlapping squares on the front of my building. The school across the street has a large smiling sunshine on its top right corner. The street is lined with trees of the reddish orange berry-bearing variety. Most balconies have a box filled with flowers or some other sort of decoration. In that respect, the DDR-legacy has vanished.
Also gone is the teaching of Russian. Though we are geographically just as close to Russia as to Spain, the school I'm at dropped their Russian program and substituted Spanish.* A couple of the teachers commented to me that they're "actually" Russian teachers, but are now teaching English or French. Quite sad, I think, to stop teaching a language just to distance yourself from the people who speak it.** Or more accurately, the political system once used in the country of the people who speak it. Politics, politics.
The place where you do still see a little bit of Russia is in the street names. I, for example, live on Makarenkostraße, named for a Communist writer/educator. Nearby are streets named for Dostoyevski and Tolstoy. There's a Karl-Marx-Straße somewhere, as well as a whole bunch named for people I learned about in the Weimar Republic class I took in Heidelberg: Rosa Luxemburg, Walther Rathenau, Karl Liebknecht, Ernst Thälmann. All socialist (or at least social democratic) heros of the post-World War I era. It's cool to see street names like this, because they're an interesting contrast from the Martin-Luther/Goethe/Schiller/Bismarck trend you see elsewhere in Germany.
I'm meeting the English teachers at a restaurant tonight to discuss my schedule for the following weeks, so I suppose I'll get ready for that. Maybe try to see if they have any advice on speeding up the bureacratic process. You don't suppose the workers at the foreign registration office could be bribed with cream puffs, do you?
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* Not totally clear on when, but it seems to have been more recent than reunification (1989).
**U.S.A. universities, German programs, ca. 1918

At length, I arrive in Greifswald

You know all those times you asked me in the months/weeks/days before I left whether I was excited about going to Germany? Well, I most likely wasn't. With the exception of a few brief periods of genuine excitement, the enthusiasm you saw was largely put on for the camera, or the sake of enjoyable conversation. I didn't feel much when packing, or going to the airport, or boarding the plane. The first 8 hours of the transatlantic flight were uneventful. It was during a chance glance out the window on our way down over Munich that the smiling finally began. It's southern Germany, after all. Bavaria, Alps country. At sunrise at that. Absolutely gorgeous. Munich is a big city. Big enough for Americans to give it their own easier-to-pronounce name. But from an airplane, it doesn't look that way. No skyscrapers, that is, and when I looked out I saw mostly fields. Bright green grass and distincly German, red-roofed houses. And nicely, strangely, I felt that I was coming home.

In the Munich airport, I couldn't stop smiling. Seriously. I must have looked ridiculous. Fortunately, Germans are pretty good about minding their own business, so they let me enjoy my pretzel and complimentary coffee and newspaper as I waited for my connection in peace.*

Since then, it's only gotten better. General upward trend, in any case. Nice people at the orientation in Köln.* The practice lesson I had to present went very well. I had surprisingly little trouble* with the hundred-and-twenty-pounds of luggage that became an extention of my body on the trains from Köln to Hamburg to Rostock to Stralsund to Greifswald to (finally!) the very nice room in my dorm. Nice people here so far: very friendly and very helpful. When I didn't think I could get Internet in my room until at least Monday because I couldn't go register with the dorm director, the boyfriend of someone in my hall gave me his university ID and password to use. And on top of all of that: beautiful scenery and beautiful weather.

So that's where I stand with this trip. Lots of exploring today: saw the school and city center and walked around the very-residential area where I live. Discovered that German doesn't really have a word for "residential." Got some biometric passport-sized photos taken in preparation for the battle with bureaucracy that will begin again on Monday früh. The weekend will continue in the exploration vein, I suppose, but with less school and more German TV.

*******
Hey, there are footnotes! Isn't this great? You can read for more info, or you can just skip if this post was already way too long for you!

*everybody was American. That really surprised me. And everyone (including the German directors) was speaking English. That surprised me even more. I have a tendency to anticipate the wrong language at gatherings like this.

*yeah, free! Lufthansa's great. It was my first time to fly LH domestic...I felt so German!

*though I did get some pretty impressive bruises! See?

bloggen, bloggte, gebloggt

OK, so I don't actually know if that's the conjugation, but my distaste for mildly-germanified English and for blogs themselves don't leave me likely to give the German language the benefit of the doubt. "Distaste for blogs?" you say. "But here I am, reading one that you wrote." And indeed you are. I've decided, for a variety of reasons,* to give up on the notion that blogs are somehow a sign of arrogance. Before graduation, I was publishing my opinion in the Baker Orange on a regular basis. If that's not arrogant, writing this blog probably isn't either.

* efficiency. I can update you all at once!
* modesty. If you don't want to read, you don't have to!
* self-fulfillment. I get to write!
* arrogance. And show it to you!
* laziness. And not make it perfect before I do!

With that, I welcome you to Vol. 1 of "JMG in HGW." From the Universitäts- und Hansestadt Greifswald, this is Justine Marie Greve. Auf Wiedersehen and goodnight.*

*Or minus 7 hours. So "day."