I have tried to keep the amount of this blog that is directly about my life to a minimum. My working assumption is that German culture and what it has to offer is more interesting than whether I am getting along with my Gastfamilie. I have been told, however, that this is a pretty funny story, so here goes.
We proud participants of the Parlementarisches Patenschafts-Programm (the German name for my fellowship) attended an event in Düsseldorf last Friday, which was charmingly referred to as a "Stipendiatentag." Germans rarely hesitate when it comes to the creation of new, very LARGE words, so I was hardly surprised to learn that they would conceive a word which means -- and this is the only definition, mind you -- "a party for recipients of a scholarship."
Along with the Cologne contingent of the PPP, many other international students were invited: Europeans, mainland Chinese, and students from various South American countries. We were informed of the existence of this event about a week in advance, and the Americans were encouraged to attend. Some of our number who are more musically inclined were additionally encouraged to prepare some sort of performance, in order to share our American culture with the group. Taking this simply as a suggestion, we did not think we were seriously expected to perform. It was clear that a performance would be appreciated, but I for one did not think it was by any means expected. The party was only a week away, after all. On Friday, as we rode the bus to the party, I spoke with Daniel, a fellow "PPPler" and future orchestral conductor, about what we might hypothetically perform, were this a serious event.
We soon realized our error: Germans do not take such important matters as musical numbers lightly. Immediately upon entering the party, Daniel and I were seized by the regional director. She asked us what we had in mind to perform for everyone there, perhaps 200 heads, as a "representation of American culture." Evidently, the purpose of this performance was an example of that "junior ambassador" stuff they keep talking about. We were to represent America. And were to do it in song. And we were on in twenty-five minutes.
Scrambling, Daniel and I came up with a plan. We quickly ran through which songs Daniel could reconstruct from memory, and then cross-referenced it with which of those songs for which I knew the lyrics. We then triangulated these results with a list of songs silly and campy enough that no one could mistakenly think Daniel and I were taking ourselves seriously.
And that is how I ended up singing "A Whole New World" as both Aladdin AND Jasmine in front of an international assembly.
All in all, I would have to admit it went rather well. I wasn't pitch-perfect, but I had fun, and Daniel came through masterfully on the keyboard. We were silly, we were schmalzy. And everyone laughed, which I guess is all you can ask for in such circumstances. The regional director was very grateful, and I received a number of compliments from both American friends and international students for a very amusing performance. So while the beginning to my ambassadorial endeavors may not have been conventional, it does appear to have been successful.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Genießbare Getränke, Part Two: Apfelwein
This past weekend, I had the good fortune to visit the city of Frankfurt, where I was graciously and generously accomodated. Frankfurt is a wonderful city, one which I would like to give appropriate consideration... some other time. For now, let me say that Frankfurt is a German city with character. It has money. It has museums. It has beautiful views of the Main (pronounced "mine") River. It has money. It has MORE money. It also has Apfelwein.
Even for those of you who do not speak a lick of German, I am sure you can guess that Apfelwein is essentially cider. You'd be right... mostly. Ebbelwoi, as it is known in Frankfurt,* is of an alcoholic content somewhere between beer and grape wine; possesses a tawny, cloudy color; and drank straight, tastes absolutely godawful. It is a traditional beverage, however, and like all proud traditions, this one must be carried on, no matter how painful.
Similar to Kölsch, Apfelwein is also served in its own unique glass called a Geripptes, which to American eyes looks like a lozenge-cut water glass. The apparent purpose of this is to shine light through the beverage at more angles. As for consumption, current custom is to mix a glass of Apfelwein with either water, thus making a "Sauergepritzer," or with lemonade, juice or a soda such as Fanta, the result of which is called a "Süssgespritzer." A Sauergespritzer really just dilutes and prolongs the taste, which holds the same appeal as pulling a band-aid off slowly. Mixed with Fanta, however, Apfelwein is actually very pleasant. Chilled, it makes a pleasant summer drink, and at room temperature I imagine it would be perfect through the fall. In a pinch, Apfelwein can even be mixed with Coca-Cola, though snobby Germans consider this a serious faux pas. In case you were wondering, the resulting concoction in this case is called a "Korea."**
Ebbelwoi is the official drink of the State of Hessen, and this is particularly evident in places like Frankfurt. Sachsenhausen, Frankfurt's nightlife district, is lined with apple decor, and Apfelwein can be purchased just about anywhere. Be warned, however. If you want your cider sweet, prepare for snobbiness in nicer establishments. Apparently some Germans of the region consider all Süssgespritzers in bad taste, so you may get stared down the bridges of a few noses.
Of course, they may be sneering at you already for ordering tap water, so it might not even make any difference.
--------
* As far as I can tell, there is no apparent etymological rhyme or reason to local German dialects. Every time I think I have begun to understand their mad eldritch logic, another strange example comes whizzing along. If there is a governance to German dialects, that governance is anarchy.
** Q.E.D.
Even for those of you who do not speak a lick of German, I am sure you can guess that Apfelwein is essentially cider. You'd be right... mostly. Ebbelwoi, as it is known in Frankfurt,* is of an alcoholic content somewhere between beer and grape wine; possesses a tawny, cloudy color; and drank straight, tastes absolutely godawful. It is a traditional beverage, however, and like all proud traditions, this one must be carried on, no matter how painful.
Similar to Kölsch, Apfelwein is also served in its own unique glass called a Geripptes, which to American eyes looks like a lozenge-cut water glass. The apparent purpose of this is to shine light through the beverage at more angles. As for consumption, current custom is to mix a glass of Apfelwein with either water, thus making a "Sauergepritzer," or with lemonade, juice or a soda such as Fanta, the result of which is called a "Süssgespritzer." A Sauergespritzer really just dilutes and prolongs the taste, which holds the same appeal as pulling a band-aid off slowly. Mixed with Fanta, however, Apfelwein is actually very pleasant. Chilled, it makes a pleasant summer drink, and at room temperature I imagine it would be perfect through the fall. In a pinch, Apfelwein can even be mixed with Coca-Cola, though snobby Germans consider this a serious faux pas. In case you were wondering, the resulting concoction in this case is called a "Korea."**
Ebbelwoi is the official drink of the State of Hessen, and this is particularly evident in places like Frankfurt. Sachsenhausen, Frankfurt's nightlife district, is lined with apple decor, and Apfelwein can be purchased just about anywhere. Be warned, however. If you want your cider sweet, prepare for snobbiness in nicer establishments. Apparently some Germans of the region consider all Süssgespritzers in bad taste, so you may get stared down the bridges of a few noses.
Of course, they may be sneering at you already for ordering tap water, so it might not even make any difference.
--------
* As far as I can tell, there is no apparent etymological rhyme or reason to local German dialects. Every time I think I have begun to understand their mad eldritch logic, another strange example comes whizzing along. If there is a governance to German dialects, that governance is anarchy.
** Q.E.D.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Kölner Kirchen, Part One: The Dom
I have heard Cologne referred to as the City of Churches. The name is apt. Though Cologne began as a Roman colony, that age is most evident in the many Romanesque churches that overlook the streets. Sadly, there’s not much of the city's history to be seen besides the churches. Most of Cologne was bombed during World War II, and virtually all of the current urban landscape was built in the postwar reconstruction or thereafter. Many of the churches, however, survived the bombings. Those that were damaged underwent extensive and careful repairs, a process that went on into the 1990’s, and still goes on in occasional spot work today.
Since so much of Cologne’s remaining architectural history is tied up in these beautiful buildings, I thought I should give them some consideration here. And any discussion of Cologne’s architecture, history, or most anything else really, must begin with Cologne's Gothic cathedral, the Dom.
The cathedral, the center and symbol of the city, is simply called the Kölner Dom, or just “die Dom.” It is the tallest building in the city at 509 feet, and with the exception of a few skyscrapers that have sprung up outside the Altstadt, it towers over everything like a behemoth. The Dom can be seen from just about everywhere, and is often used as a directional guide, e.g. “Head towards the Dom, keep the Dom on your right, etc.”
The history of the Dom is well documented, and I would be doing little other than a disservice, were I to attempt to summarize it here. What I can say is that the building took 600 years to build, and its presence gives a unique character to the city. For instance, when I change lines on my morning commute, I rise out of the U-Bahn to a platform that faces the bridge across the Rhine. This bridge leads to Cologne's central station, which is directly next to the Dom. Thus, if one enters the city from the east side of the Rhine, then the Dom greets your entry.
The Dom is the second tallest church in Europe, and it just barely misses first. Students can climb the southern tower for just 1€, and from there one can see the entire city.
It’s worth the hike.
The interior of the church is also spectacular. Regrettably, the stained-glass windows were all destroyed in the war, but they were beautifully reconstructed… though they do incorporate the occasional oddity. This stained-glass window can be found on the western wall when entering the church. In the bottom right corner, there is a picture of the planet Saturn, a picture that very closely resembles the symbol of the popular German electronics store of the same name, which just happens to have an outlet directly outside the church.
The symbol...
...which can be seen on the store across from the cathedral, on the left side here.
The most difficult thing to explain about the Dom is its size. It is practically impossible to express the sheer physical presence of the cathedral in words and pictures. To give some scale, however, you'll note the two Kreuzblumen adorning the Dom's towers:
Here's a to-scale replica on the ground.
Even that comparison does not do justice to the impression the Dom makes on visitors. After all, if pictures did the Dom justice, it probably wouldn't be the single most visited building in Europe. But as the Kölners would note, it's not like it's hard to find, either.
See what I mean?
Since so much of Cologne’s remaining architectural history is tied up in these beautiful buildings, I thought I should give them some consideration here. And any discussion of Cologne’s architecture, history, or most anything else really, must begin with Cologne's Gothic cathedral, the Dom.
The cathedral, the center and symbol of the city, is simply called the Kölner Dom, or just “die Dom.” It is the tallest building in the city at 509 feet, and with the exception of a few skyscrapers that have sprung up outside the Altstadt, it towers over everything like a behemoth. The Dom can be seen from just about everywhere, and is often used as a directional guide, e.g. “Head towards the Dom, keep the Dom on your right, etc.”The history of the Dom is well documented, and I would be doing little other than a disservice, were I to attempt to summarize it here. What I can say is that the building took 600 years to build, and its presence gives a unique character to the city. For instance, when I change lines on my morning commute, I rise out of the U-Bahn to a platform that faces the bridge across the Rhine. This bridge leads to Cologne's central station, which is directly next to the Dom. Thus, if one enters the city from the east side of the Rhine, then the Dom greets your entry.
The Dom is the second tallest church in Europe, and it just barely misses first. Students can climb the southern tower for just 1€, and from there one can see the entire city.
It’s worth the hike.
The interior of the church is also spectacular. Regrettably, the stained-glass windows were all destroyed in the war, but they were beautifully reconstructed… though they do incorporate the occasional oddity. This stained-glass window can be found on the western wall when entering the church. In the bottom right corner, there is a picture of the planet Saturn, a picture that very closely resembles the symbol of the popular German electronics store of the same name, which just happens to have an outlet directly outside the church.The symbol...
...which can be seen on the store across from the cathedral, on the left side here.
The most difficult thing to explain about the Dom is its size. It is practically impossible to express the sheer physical presence of the cathedral in words and pictures. To give some scale, however, you'll note the two Kreuzblumen adorning the Dom's towers:
Here's a to-scale replica on the ground.
Even that comparison does not do justice to the impression the Dom makes on visitors. After all, if pictures did the Dom justice, it probably wouldn't be the single most visited building in Europe. But as the Kölners would note, it's not like it's hard to find, either.
See what I mean?
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Some Light Reading
I have been living in Cologne about a week, and language school has already begun to occupy much of my time. This means I have had less spare moments for exploring than I might like. Since my days have been almost entirely filled with the German language, I decided to allow myself a small treat of the Muttersprache to and from school on the train. The only English reading I had brought with me was a collection of Edna St. Vincent Millay poetry, which – like that really good chocolate you have every intention of making last for a very long time – I had consumed rather quickly. So, I went in search of a bookstore that sold novels in English.
What I found was English Books and Tea .
Located on Ritterstraße just off the Hansaring (the main road where the CDC is located), English Books and Tea is a small shop that sells eponymous wares to what appears to be a circle of loyal customers, many of them British and American expatriates. I was rather surprised to find a shop specializing in books in English in the middle of Cologne, though fellow CBYX participant Sannie tells me that the phenomenon is actually common in major German cities. She seems quite educated in these matters, so I believe her. That said, I have not seen any others, so I was elated to find exactly what I was looking for less than four blocks from school.
The proprietor is an Englishman named Chris Potter – go ahead, make a Harry Potter joke, I’ll wait – originally hailing from Essex. From what I can tell, he speaks terrific German, and he claims to speak excellent Russian as well, though to that I cannot speak informedly. He alternates between English and German from behind the counter while making tea for customers and conversing on all manner of subjects with all manner of people. The first time I visited his shop, he did an excellent job of helping me defuse a rather disgruntled member of the American Air Force, who decided to quarrel with me when he overheard that I a) was from New York, and b) believed most Americans do not care very much about history. I politely indulged the Flatbush native’s loaded questions about my education and take on various topics, and Chris was courteous enough to mediate the whole situation. This proved to be quite indicative of Chris’ general demeanor, which is at once self-effacing and witty in a way only the British can pull off.
Taken altogether, English Books and Tea and its proprietor have been one of my more pleasant finds thus far. Chris’ heritage is half-German, and he’s been in Cologne for seven years, so he and his shop could technically be considered part of the local color. The community certainly seems to think so. His shop is home for everything from reading groups to AA meetings to the kind of gossipy exchanges that bind a neighborhood. Chris also knows the area quite well. A few of us from CBYX have befriended him, and he was kind enough to take us on a small Kneipentour (a Cologne version of a pub crawl). So take heed, English-speaking travelers. Should you find yourself in Cologne, be sure to visit Chris’ shop. I’m sure it’s hard staying afloat as a proprietor of a small bookshop, especially when most of your customers stand around talking rather than buying. So if you’re in town, give Chris some business. He might even show you around.
And yes, I bought a book… eventually.
Bussi bussi.
What I found was English Books and Tea .
Located on Ritterstraße just off the Hansaring (the main road where the CDC is located), English Books and Tea is a small shop that sells eponymous wares to what appears to be a circle of loyal customers, many of them British and American expatriates. I was rather surprised to find a shop specializing in books in English in the middle of Cologne, though fellow CBYX participant Sannie tells me that the phenomenon is actually common in major German cities. She seems quite educated in these matters, so I believe her. That said, I have not seen any others, so I was elated to find exactly what I was looking for less than four blocks from school.
The proprietor is an Englishman named Chris Potter – go ahead, make a Harry Potter joke, I’ll wait – originally hailing from Essex. From what I can tell, he speaks terrific German, and he claims to speak excellent Russian as well, though to that I cannot speak informedly. He alternates between English and German from behind the counter while making tea for customers and conversing on all manner of subjects with all manner of people. The first time I visited his shop, he did an excellent job of helping me defuse a rather disgruntled member of the American Air Force, who decided to quarrel with me when he overheard that I a) was from New York, and b) believed most Americans do not care very much about history. I politely indulged the Flatbush native’s loaded questions about my education and take on various topics, and Chris was courteous enough to mediate the whole situation. This proved to be quite indicative of Chris’ general demeanor, which is at once self-effacing and witty in a way only the British can pull off.
Taken altogether, English Books and Tea and its proprietor have been one of my more pleasant finds thus far. Chris’ heritage is half-German, and he’s been in Cologne for seven years, so he and his shop could technically be considered part of the local color. The community certainly seems to think so. His shop is home for everything from reading groups to AA meetings to the kind of gossipy exchanges that bind a neighborhood. Chris also knows the area quite well. A few of us from CBYX have befriended him, and he was kind enough to take us on a small Kneipentour (a Cologne version of a pub crawl). So take heed, English-speaking travelers. Should you find yourself in Cologne, be sure to visit Chris’ shop. I’m sure it’s hard staying afloat as a proprietor of a small bookshop, especially when most of your customers stand around talking rather than buying. So if you’re in town, give Chris some business. He might even show you around.
And yes, I bought a book… eventually.
Bussi bussi.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Fauxhawks Revisited
After some prodding, I have decided to resolve the fauxhawk issue raised earlier, despite having raised it almost entirely in jest, and even then only as a result of my viewing several examples of the hairstyle on my Bahnfahrt home.
Conclusion: fauxhawks are what they were the last time I was here, though they do come in various degrees of a) color, b) size, and c) architectural severity. All of which taken together I shall continue to privately refer to as "plumage."
And, yes, I'm getting stodgier. No shocks there.
Longer post soon. Bis später, bussi bussi.
Conclusion: fauxhawks are what they were the last time I was here, though they do come in various degrees of a) color, b) size, and c) architectural severity. All of which taken together I shall continue to privately refer to as "plumage."
And, yes, I'm getting stodgier. No shocks there.
Longer post soon. Bis später, bussi bussi.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Genießbare Getränke, Part 1: Kölsch
As I have said, this blog will be concerning itself with all things German. If past experience is any teacher, I will have much to say this year about alcohol. As a first foray into that subject, I give you the specialty beer of the city of Cologne: Kölsch.
Quite frankly, it's nothing special.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoy German beer, almost universally more so than the fare available for consumption back in the States. Kölsch, however, does not really offer anything unique. One member of the CBYX group said she thinks it tastes surprisingly like Corona. I think she's right; the similarity is pretty remarkable.
I am not alone in this opinion. I finally confirmed my host father exists last night, and we chatted over Jewers* (a popular pilsner of this region) on a number of subjects, including beer. Without provocation, he explicitly stated his distaste for Kölsch. I suppose he could be in the minority of the local populace on this subject, but nonetheless his opinion shows one is not demonstrating Stereotypical American Arrogance if one doesn't like the stuff.
For those who do want a Stange (a Kölner beer glass) or two, there's only two options open to you: 1) Come to Cologne and order some, or 2) Import it from a Cologne brewery. Germans take their beer very seriously. Besides the famous purity laws, there have also been laws passed regarding what beers can use certain names, akin to similar French laws regarding wine. It is ganz verboten to brew a beer and call it Kölsch unless it is brewed in the city of Cologne.
And like many sources of community pride, Kölsch has its rivals. In this case, the dreaded nemesis is Altbier, the specialty of Düsseldorf. I have not been there yet, nor have I tasted their ancient and mysterious brew, so I cannot really comment on it yet. What I can tell you is what one of the teachers at CDC told me: order Altbier in Cologne at your own peril. Most places do not serve it; some will even throw you out for insulting their establishment so grievously. I suspect the teacher was exaggerating somewhat, but I am not planning on testing his claim anytime soon. If I do happen to see some hapless altbier-loving tourist make this fatal faux pas, I will be sure to report that news here.
Hopefully with pictures.
Bussi bussi.
--------
* It's pronounced YAY-verz. Calm down.
Quite frankly, it's nothing special.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoy German beer, almost universally more so than the fare available for consumption back in the States. Kölsch, however, does not really offer anything unique. One member of the CBYX group said she thinks it tastes surprisingly like Corona. I think she's right; the similarity is pretty remarkable.
I am not alone in this opinion. I finally confirmed my host father exists last night, and we chatted over Jewers* (a popular pilsner of this region) on a number of subjects, including beer. Without provocation, he explicitly stated his distaste for Kölsch. I suppose he could be in the minority of the local populace on this subject, but nonetheless his opinion shows one is not demonstrating Stereotypical American Arrogance if one doesn't like the stuff.
For those who do want a Stange (a Kölner beer glass) or two, there's only two options open to you: 1) Come to Cologne and order some, or 2) Import it from a Cologne brewery. Germans take their beer very seriously. Besides the famous purity laws, there have also been laws passed regarding what beers can use certain names, akin to similar French laws regarding wine. It is ganz verboten to brew a beer and call it Kölsch unless it is brewed in the city of Cologne.
And like many sources of community pride, Kölsch has its rivals. In this case, the dreaded nemesis is Altbier, the specialty of Düsseldorf. I have not been there yet, nor have I tasted their ancient and mysterious brew, so I cannot really comment on it yet. What I can tell you is what one of the teachers at CDC told me: order Altbier in Cologne at your own peril. Most places do not serve it; some will even throw you out for insulting their establishment so grievously. I suspect the teacher was exaggerating somewhat, but I am not planning on testing his claim anytime soon. If I do happen to see some hapless altbier-loving tourist make this fatal faux pas, I will be sure to report that news here.
Hopefully with pictures.
Bussi bussi.
--------
* It's pronounced YAY-verz. Calm down.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Teutonic Travels, Part One: My Year Begins
After a short visit to DC, I have finally arrived in Germany. I am spending the next two months in Cologne, a major city in the Rhineland, Germany’s most populous region. Cologne is somewhat typical of modern German cities, with a bustling Innenstadt full of tourist attractions, fine dining, and culture, nightlife, usw.* It reminds me a little bit of the week I spent last year in Berlin, but only in the vague ways all German cities resemble one another. To me, the similarity is much like the vague commonality shared by northeastern American cities such as Philadelphia and Boston. As I have said, however, I have not spent much time here yet, and will have more to tell on the subject of Cologne in the future.
Since I have already been through orientation for my year on the CBYX, I have met most of the participants of this year’s program. They are by all accounts a friendly bunch, and the liveliness amongst the participants is surprisingly uniform. I wouldn’t be surprised if the administrators of CBYX look for such traits, be it actively or passively, since the program leaders continuously make a point of informing us that we are acting as American ambassadors to the Germans we meet and befriend during our year here.
Beyond the ubiquitous friendliness and approachable dispositions, most of the participants also seem to have a healthy amount of drive, similar to my classmates at alma mater. Like CMC students, many of them possess an interest in international relations/public policy/politics/business/economics,** and almost everyone likes to drink. Though Claremont had a diverse student body, I would argue the CBYX group is even more so. I’ve met a future pastry chef, orchestra conductor, mason, another chef, more than a handful of engineers, businessmen and a forest ranger. Even more exciting, they come from all sorts of universities and colleges as well: community colleges, state schools, small liberal arts colleges and large research universities. It’s exciting to talk to people from regions of the country that I have never visited nor its locals encountered.
Unfortunately, shortly after meeting one another, we were all placed on an overnight flight to Frankfurt, where we split into separate groups to reach each of our separate language schools. Language school for those to whom I have not explained this, is the first part of the CBYX program, lasting from my arrival yesterday to the end of September. Each participant spends two months at a language-training center run by an affiliate of CBYX, the Carl Duisberg Centren. I am studying at their office in Cologne with forty other members of the program, so fortunately I still have a number of friendly faces in the city with me. Little of interest has happened at CDC yet, so I’ll come back to that later.
After the long (8 hours) yet tolerable (arrived early) flight on Lufthansa, we proud participants found ourselves on the ground in Europe… at quarter to six in the morning… after little to no sleep… with a fully scheduled day ahead of us. It was the first true test of the Cologne group’s mettle. Many struggled to stay awake. Many more fell asleep from time to time. Some did so open-mouthed in presentations by the language school director.*** Others did the same while giving their cabbie directions.**** But in the end, everyone survived that first very long day in Germany and lived to tell the tale.
At the end of that long day, I finally met my host family, or Gastfamilie, for the first part of the program. They live in the eastern suburbs of Cologne, and have been very friendly to me thus far. The woman of the house, Frau Zielinska-Lange, is very warm and friendly, and she tolerates my German Fehler with patience mixed with schoolteacher firmness and seize-the-day type attitude for learning experiences. Her last name tripped me up the first few times I tried to say it,***** and her daughter Lena told me I can call her by her first name, Goska… which did not help much either. In any case, I’ve stuck to the Sie formal address when speaking to Frau Zielinska-Lange, since I still barely know her, and she has been kind enough to welcome me into her home. The aforementioned daughter, Lena, is a graduate student at the University of Bonn home for the summer. She has also been quite friendly, and she had the resourcefulness to introduce me to a system wherein I can call the U.S. from land lines for only 0.0114€ a minute!****** There is also a man of the house, Herr Lange, but I have not yet met him. I went to sleep only an hour or so after arrival yesterday out of sheer exhaustion, and he is not yet home as of this writing. Thus far I have been able to determine he is a repairman by trade, of what no one seems to know, and is very busy during the summer.
The Lange family also has two dogs, Maya and Saba, who are by far two of the friendliest, most obedient dogs I have ever seen. I am not really a dog person, but these two are getting me there. The language barrier here is a little thicker, so I will update with more on the dogs later as well.
If you are still reading at this point, particularly with the increasingly irrelevant footnotes,******* you must be pretty interested in what is going on over here. I will post again to keep you apprised of my adventures and mishaps. There have been a couple thus far, but I thought they would be more amusing and less pathetic and bedürftig sounding if amusingly compounded together into a reflection on the mishaps of traveling. Till then, let me leave you with this thought on European fauxhawks: in the time since I was in Austria last summer, one of the following has occurred:
1. Nothing, and they are just typically more extreme and architectural in this region
2. The fashion has moved towards a more angular, bird-like look
3. I have become stodgier
I intend to resolve this mystery by the time I write my next post.
Until then, bussi bussi.
--------
*und so weiter – the German equivalent expression of et cetera.
** Just one I’ve met so far, but she’s adamant, so that compensates.
***They know who they are, and if they are reading this, I hope they have a good sense of humor.
**** …I don’t want to talk about it. Ok? Don’t judge me.
***** Go ahead, read it aloud. I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with NOTHING.
****** Subject to change without notice.
******* I read David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest before I left this summer. Wallace’s relationship with footnotes in that book is, shall we say, intimate and involved.
Since I have already been through orientation for my year on the CBYX, I have met most of the participants of this year’s program. They are by all accounts a friendly bunch, and the liveliness amongst the participants is surprisingly uniform. I wouldn’t be surprised if the administrators of CBYX look for such traits, be it actively or passively, since the program leaders continuously make a point of informing us that we are acting as American ambassadors to the Germans we meet and befriend during our year here.
Beyond the ubiquitous friendliness and approachable dispositions, most of the participants also seem to have a healthy amount of drive, similar to my classmates at alma mater. Like CMC students, many of them possess an interest in international relations/public policy/politics/business/economics,** and almost everyone likes to drink. Though Claremont had a diverse student body, I would argue the CBYX group is even more so. I’ve met a future pastry chef, orchestra conductor, mason, another chef, more than a handful of engineers, businessmen and a forest ranger. Even more exciting, they come from all sorts of universities and colleges as well: community colleges, state schools, small liberal arts colleges and large research universities. It’s exciting to talk to people from regions of the country that I have never visited nor its locals encountered.
Unfortunately, shortly after meeting one another, we were all placed on an overnight flight to Frankfurt, where we split into separate groups to reach each of our separate language schools. Language school for those to whom I have not explained this, is the first part of the CBYX program, lasting from my arrival yesterday to the end of September. Each participant spends two months at a language-training center run by an affiliate of CBYX, the Carl Duisberg Centren. I am studying at their office in Cologne with forty other members of the program, so fortunately I still have a number of friendly faces in the city with me. Little of interest has happened at CDC yet, so I’ll come back to that later.
After the long (8 hours) yet tolerable (arrived early) flight on Lufthansa, we proud participants found ourselves on the ground in Europe… at quarter to six in the morning… after little to no sleep… with a fully scheduled day ahead of us. It was the first true test of the Cologne group’s mettle. Many struggled to stay awake. Many more fell asleep from time to time. Some did so open-mouthed in presentations by the language school director.*** Others did the same while giving their cabbie directions.**** But in the end, everyone survived that first very long day in Germany and lived to tell the tale.
At the end of that long day, I finally met my host family, or Gastfamilie, for the first part of the program. They live in the eastern suburbs of Cologne, and have been very friendly to me thus far. The woman of the house, Frau Zielinska-Lange, is very warm and friendly, and she tolerates my German Fehler with patience mixed with schoolteacher firmness and seize-the-day type attitude for learning experiences. Her last name tripped me up the first few times I tried to say it,***** and her daughter Lena told me I can call her by her first name, Goska… which did not help much either. In any case, I’ve stuck to the Sie formal address when speaking to Frau Zielinska-Lange, since I still barely know her, and she has been kind enough to welcome me into her home. The aforementioned daughter, Lena, is a graduate student at the University of Bonn home for the summer. She has also been quite friendly, and she had the resourcefulness to introduce me to a system wherein I can call the U.S. from land lines for only 0.0114€ a minute!****** There is also a man of the house, Herr Lange, but I have not yet met him. I went to sleep only an hour or so after arrival yesterday out of sheer exhaustion, and he is not yet home as of this writing. Thus far I have been able to determine he is a repairman by trade, of what no one seems to know, and is very busy during the summer.
The Lange family also has two dogs, Maya and Saba, who are by far two of the friendliest, most obedient dogs I have ever seen. I am not really a dog person, but these two are getting me there. The language barrier here is a little thicker, so I will update with more on the dogs later as well.
If you are still reading at this point, particularly with the increasingly irrelevant footnotes,******* you must be pretty interested in what is going on over here. I will post again to keep you apprised of my adventures and mishaps. There have been a couple thus far, but I thought they would be more amusing and less pathetic and bedürftig sounding if amusingly compounded together into a reflection on the mishaps of traveling. Till then, let me leave you with this thought on European fauxhawks: in the time since I was in Austria last summer, one of the following has occurred:
1. Nothing, and they are just typically more extreme and architectural in this region
2. The fashion has moved towards a more angular, bird-like look
3. I have become stodgier
I intend to resolve this mystery by the time I write my next post.
Until then, bussi bussi.
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*und so weiter – the German equivalent expression of et cetera.
** Just one I’ve met so far, but she’s adamant, so that compensates.
***They know who they are, and if they are reading this, I hope they have a good sense of humor.
**** …I don’t want to talk about it. Ok? Don’t judge me.
***** Go ahead, read it aloud. I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with NOTHING.
****** Subject to change without notice.
******* I read David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest before I left this summer. Wallace’s relationship with footnotes in that book is, shall we say, intimate and involved.
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