A People's History of the Last Few Weeks

I haven't made a judgement yet on whether or not people are "basically good." I suppose it may be more accurate to say that they're "basically morally neutral," although I feel also that if morality comes from or is defined by people, it makes sense that the rules of morality are things most people see value in. That's logic, though. If I were to make the call on gut feeling, I'd say yeah. "Basically good" is definitely the impression I keep being left with.

Take the Swoggers, for instance. They took me in to their gorgeous, rustic-y cottage in a village in a valley in northern Wales. Took me out to eat at the local pub, showed me (from an archaeologist's perspective) the local cemetery. Drove me all around the area, and to the seacoast, and into England. Talked about important and interesting stuff. Treated me like a relative instead of a random girl whose college education funding was tied up with John's grandfather's charitable foundation. Awesome people. Freja reminded me a lot of Brenda Day, for the one or two people that might mean anything to...

Or take my couchsurfers. Strangers willing to drive me to Hadrian's Wall , tell me about post-USSR Lithuania, fix my camera, analyze British maternity-leave policies, joke about American politics, and stay up late watching people miss each others' points in televised religious debates. Honestly, I don't even do most of that with people I actually know.

Other people I stayed with I'd met before. Bayern with Christoph was great. I met his family and came face-to-face with the Bavarian dialect. Met his girlfriend and window-shopped for dirndls.* Watched Christoph's soccer game and went to a Southern German Catholic Palm Sunday service. I watched a guy on a German game show (successfully!) identify types of sausage by smelling/tasting the juice that they are packaged in. I saw a Greek-style temple, the confluence of three rivers, and learned that gas is a lot cheaper if you buy it just across the German-Austrian border.

Oh, the Fulbright conference was great, too. Fancy food, fancy room, free time in Berlin. Found some Mexican food, went to the DDR museum. Fulbright-sponsored parties and "music gala" that included a performance by Darius (son of Dave) Brubeck. All great. Would have been nice if it was earlier in the year, though. I met some awesome people, none of whom live anywhere near me, either in Germany or the states. And by now, the few travel days I have left are already accounted for. Oh well. Thank goodness for Facebook.

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*Dirndl. One of those dresses you see on the girls in Oktoberfest pictures.

Silverstein, Silbermond, Mondstein, Mondschein

I walked last night to where the sidewalk ends. It's on the eastern way out of town, just beyond the Max-Planck-Institute, just on the pasture-side of Elisen Park. The latter is a shopping center--a legitimate American-style mall which I discovered last week on a walk beyond the borders, out past Lidl to the spot where the bike path turns to gravel. When I found it I was shocked. Who knew that it was there, that 2.5 acres of America on Mecklenburg-Vorpommeranian soil? It was home, but I didn't want it, and I realized that come July, I'm probably going to miss Germany far more than I've been missing America.*

At the same time that I feel pretty at home here, I'm often struck by how un-German my life is. Probably once a day, I'm taken slightly off guard by hearing German. This usually happens within 60 seconds of leaving my apartment and reminds me how much time I spend alone inside my head. If I don't have school and don't have orchestra and don't meet anyone in the kitchen, I probably won't say more than a few sentence of German per day. Today, for example. I've said "hi," "bye," and a couple numbers while counting out my change at the store. But that's it. And unless I've been immersed in German for awhile, I don't normally use it for thinking. My sound of silence is still English.

Interestingly, however, it's not just German in Germany that catches me off guard. In Britain, it was English. I was in a foreign country, so English just didn't seem right. I loved it, though. It's the most amazing feeling to not have to think at all about what you're saying. I could be articulate. I could be witty. I felt like myself, and that's pretty good for morale.

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*As a country and way of life. Missing people is a totally different story.