Day in the Seepark

The weather in Freiburg is freaky--almost like the weather in Virginia. From what I've heard, most of Germany right now has been experiencing dreary fall conditions for a while now. And yes, deep down I know that Freiburg weather will not always be so lovely. November is supposedly downright depressing--far from the sunny, golden days of jumping in piles of leaves and taking long strolls in sweatshirts. But yesterday in Freiburg, it was over 70 degrees. Not knowing how long I'd be so meteorologically blessed, I couldn't let such a day pass me by--even after having gone to the late show of Eat Pray Love and spending hours afterwards reading blogs and talking to Evan. I only wish we'd seen Eat Pray Love during the day, so that I could have enjoyed the satisfaction of walking out of a theater during a cheesy and underwhelming film, only to find a beautiful day worthy of the park.

The Gymnasium where I work is on the edge of such a park, called the Seepark. For some reason, I hadn't explored it until two young teachers showed it to me last week. There's a big lake with boats and lots of turtles, as well as chestnut trees and a Japanese Garden. I brought my journal and my camera along, just in case the creative spirit moved me. It was a good move.

Although it was warm enough to wear flip flops, I recognized signs of autumn for the first time. The leaves have started to turn and fall, making me long for the leaf-covered brick pathways at William and Mary. Oh, how I'll miss cider, Halloween and Williamsburg in the fall...

There was also a delightful old man, who confused me for a married woman. After learning otherwise, he leaned in for a kiss...

Instead, we compromised with a picture.

Japanese Garden

See y'all soon.

Unterwegs, with Guns

I have only just realized how little I have actually said about my school and my position here. My previous posts give the impression that I am simply bumming around Europe like a pretentious college graduate who pretends to know something about good cheese and wine. And photography. And that insipid platitude about finding yourself. Dear friends, the moment I utter those words, please boycott this blog. The truth is, I have a pretty good idea of who I am. I'm learning more every day and I continue to surprise myself (and bore myself, for that matter), but for the most part, I know what I want in my life.

I am working at a Gymnasium as an English teaching assistant, also known as Little American Underfoot. That's how I felt at first, anyway. My first week was about awkwardly watching classes from my little corner, smiling at children with curious, staring heads cocked to the side like my dog Luke when he watches TV. I struggled for a spot at a table in the teacher's lounge and read my book as "colleagues" raced passed me with arms full of books and notebooks. To make matters worse, the school is under renovation, so the classes didn't have set rooms and there was no plan for me. Basically, I sat there, obediently, waiting for my master to take me for a walk.

With the second week came questions and answers, usually preluded by "Sprechen Sie deutsch?" ("do you speak German?"), to which I would reply: "Nein, ich spreche kein Wort deutsch" ("No, I don't speak a word of German"). I asked the kids to give me their impressions of America. Do kids wear uniforms? Do you like McDonald's or Burger King? and from the older kids, What do I think about Obama? What do Americans think of Germans? Needless to say, some questions were harder than others--but I've led a few really excellent discussions and the kids really seem to be engaged. For the most part, it's exactly what I'd hoped for.

Of course, there's been the occasional misunderstanding. It's only natural when you're a newbie, or so most Hollywood movies tell me. It's endearing, even. But my problem is that I'm so eager to please. A miscommunication is automatically my fault, my failure to understand. Forgive me, I am just the lowly TA, I know not what I do. Then, after a long walk home, I'll cut myself a break and pledge to not react as a victim. I'm capable and competent, and I'll teach these kids something yet.

I love helping students. I love when they call my name to ask for the right word or inquire about the United States. I love to watch the wheels turning in their heads as they put the pieces together. I love their enthusiasm. I also enjoy crushing stereotypes about my country.

-"How many guns do you think my family has?"

-"How many people are in your family?"

-"Four."

-"Then your family must have four guns."

-"Would you believe that my family actually owns zero guns. zip. zilch. keine."

-"...interesting."

Yes, this is just one example. Gun rights in the US is a popular topic and makes for a good discussion. So good, in fact, that I was requested for a second appearance on Wednesday. The textbook introduces the subject with three pictures of "typical" Americans with their guns. The first picture shows a family in their front living room, a smiling mother and father each with their own gun, a daughter who is oblivious on the internet, and a fluffy dog. The second picture is a scary guy with a Tshirt that reads something like "faith in government denies both history and reason." No smile on his face. The last picture is a family of four on what appears to be your average Saturday afternoon. They are barefoot in the kitchen, each with his own gun, and again--a cute dog with his tongue hanging out. Probably salivating over the sheer power in the room.

As most of you know, I am one of the last people to argue on the side of "gun rights." Guns scare me and I have never held one. I don't understand why people think a law allowing people to bring their guns into bars actually makes the place safer. Not everyone should be Clint Eastwood. But this is not the Andell's America that I grew up in. It's hard to stand there and hear these stereotypes about my homeland, but I get satisfaction by been an exception to their so-called rule. Despite the rise of the Tea Party and manipulative, money-driven cable news/entertainment, I still love my country and I am determined to help make it better.

Sorry about the tangent, especially to those who have already heard my little rant (Thanks Mom, Dad, Evan). Bottom line is: I really love my job here, and I'm excited to see what the year brings.

Today, We Went to France.

Freiburg is very, very close to France. It only took us about an hour or so to get there--as if I were driving to Richmond. So, it's not too strange that we woke up on Saturday and said, "so...feel like going to France today?" Three hours later, we went to Colmar.

I guess the biggest motivation was the cheese. I've eaten some pretty good cheese since I've gotten here, but you don't just sit at home and eat Roquefort. You just can't beat sitting in a Brasserie, eating a cheese plate with baguettes and Bordeaux. My favorite was probably the Munster--the Alsace specialty.

Like Germany, there are bakeries everywhere. I'm still baffled as to how Europeans are thinner than we are. I guess it's because you have to walk around the city all day to find a place that will accept your Pfands (money you get back for recycled bottles). Or, as happened in Colmar, you search up and down for a place that serves bread and cheese. After an hour, we started to get cranky and were silent, only grunting to show approval or disapproval of a potential eatery.

One shoe store and creepy French guy later, we found a place and were able to cheese out to our hearts' content for the petit price of 7 euro.

Getting hungry.

Happily imagining future cheese consumption.

Alsacian France is like Germany, if you replace colors with off-white

and give the umlaut some friends.

So this is where all the heads went...

Pigs are our friends. Until you want some pieds de porc panes.

Colmar is home to Bertholdi, the man behind such inspirational statues as the Statue of Liberty. This statue inspires me to take off my pants.

Schloss Sigmaringen

Yesterday, the southwestern German Fulbright alumni chapter held a special event--a trip to Schloss Sigmaringen. The castle/palace was the home (and is still owned by) the Hohenzollern family. The family lived there until after World War II. There was a death in the family and now they're deciding who will be the lucky fellow ("sorry, ladies," as our sexist tour guide said) to fill the powerless-yet-elegant shoes. Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take pictures inside due to "copyright issues." I guess it relieved the pressure to produce good photography.

A few words on the aforementioned sexist tour guide. First of all, he was an impostor--he wasn't a real German. He was British and had been living in Germany for 30 years. He had been speaking German so long that he couldn't speak English properly. He also had a think British accent when he spoke German. If this is what happens when you become fluent--you become mediocre at 2 languages--then I'm sticking with English, y'all.

To begin with, he assumed we were dumb Americans. The tour was moving a bit slowly ("could you repeat that again? What did the ladies do in the bathroom? What was the sink for?"), yet he asked the Fulbright guy in German whether he was going too quickly for our comprehension. The Fulbrighter answered, "some of these people are getting their PhDs in History." "I was just wondering. Our last American group was from the Bush Administration." Hmpf.

Sexist/Arrogant things he said:

1. "This was the system for calling the servants at the turn of the century. The princess pressed this button, and the servants knew exactly where to go in the castle. I suggested installing one for my wife. She didn't take kindly to it."

2. "That was back in the day, when servants were trained."

3. "His wife had a name, and so did his sword."

4. "This is the largest private collection of weapons in Europe. Of course, ladies usually aren't interested."

Just to spite him, I bought a cannon keychain.

Downtown Sigmaringen

Rule: when you see fresh linen hanging out of windows, always take a picture.

Here are some views of Freiburg from the Schlossberg.

20:00 at the Wasch-n-Fun

To do laundry in my apartment, I have to knock on some stranger's door and buy some tokens to put in the machines. Like a carnival, but not as fun.

Instead, I decided to trek to Stühlinger, one of my favorite areas in Freiburg and only 10 minutes or so from my apartment. I found a place called Wasch-n-Fun, and I thought hey, it's Monday, I'm down for a good time.

For a while, it was just me and the furious sound of the washing machine. Like everything in Europe, washers and dryers are very small--like little R2D2s, with little buttons and knobs and strange, sad noises. My wash went through a lot in that hour. It started very gentle with a kitten-like kneading of the laundry. But after 45 minutes, the machine was shaking so furiously that my detergent was doing the Virginia Reel from corner to corner. I had no one to turn to to affirm the normality of the washer violence, as I can on airplanes during turbulence, when I gage my fear based on a rough evaluation of the other passengers' grips of their hand rests.

Student-types filtered in and out with their IKEA bags, sharing a smile which translated to "yeah, I ran out of underwear too."

Then, an older woman came in with a bouquet of flowers and began to pick up stray pieces of lint. I asked her if she needed help; she answered in muddled German, "no, we already have me, three Koreans and one Indian man working here."

So went my laundry experience. Not quite the romantic, meet-cute adventure you see in the movies, but at least I won't have to wear my bathing suit tomorrow.

Communication Frustration

I've discovered recently: once you* begin learning a language and you are stuck somewhere between first-day-of-class novice and nearly flawless fluency, communication is a hot, sticky mess.

Sure, you're happy when you understand what people are saying. You pick up on colloquialisms and try them out on your friends, who are in the same position as you--eager to learn, dying to be understood. You write it down in your notebook when you get home, promising yourself that you will look at it again and again until it becomes as second-nature as Ich liebe dich.

Ganz einfach. Only not.

You begin talking to native speakers, you settle comfortably into the conversation, and suddenly words are bouncing off the tip of your tongue like little frogs. You're rolling now, it's like you're speaking in tongues--but for real! People can understand you! Aber du sprichst sehr gut deutsch!

Then, your brain pulls a fast one. What is that word? How do you say "hole" auf deutsch? I think it's Lauch...or is that "leeks"? What about Lücke? But isn't that "gap"? You mean it isn't the same thing? What was I talking about?

And it's gone. The German is no longer quite as impressed as she was when you were going on and on about how strange you find German banks. You've lost her; she's speaking English now.

*It's probably just me.

Willkommen in Freiburg!

I have been in Germany for a week now and already I've met so many new people and seen so many familiar faces. My trip started perfectly, with a visit from Evan who drove several hours from Massachusetts to the Newark airport to hang out, calm me down and bring me fresh produce. I will remember it for the rest of the year as my last American experience: sharing a red pepper and some watermelon near the baggage claim, listening to impromptu serenades by an airport custodian.

But once Evan had gone and I sat alone near the gate to Frankfurt, there was no one sharing food or exchanging witticisms with me. Immediately, it dawned on me that I would not be in Germany for a vacation or for a summer, but for nearly a year. Adolescent worries about the first day of school showed their ugly faces as I wondered: Will people like me? Will people think I'm stupid? Will they think my shoes are ugly?

Frankfurt

Since my arrival, it's been a rollarcoaster. Luckily, my dear friend Marc picked me up from the airport and totally hooked me up with a phone, a day of free transportation around Frankfurt and a comfy futon. It was nice to see old friends again--Marc, Denisse, Felix, Lisette, and others--and I couldn't have imagined a better welcome. As I recovered from my jetlag, I became reacquainted with Frankfurt and all of its green and gastronomical splendor.

Cacti in the Palmengarten

Marc posing pseudo-naturally on a bridge

Frankfurt skyline from the Palmengarten

The first test was done, but next came Freiburg. Having lived in paid-for student housing all four years of college, this apartment and banking stuff was new to me. It didn't help that you pay your rent in a way that I've never heard of--in Germany, there are no checks. People know one another's bank account numbers and they transfer money that way. I had a minor freak-out, and then it was over. I embraced my new life here.

The apartment is really cute--not a lot of rooms, but just enough for me. Schade that there's no oven--but there is a magnetic stovetop, a french press, a microwave, a fridge. I think I can deal with that. As long as I can have my morning oatmeal (Haferflocken) and coffee, life is pretty good.

Altenberg/Köln

Almost immediately after my arrival, I had to leave for Cologne for an orientation. I had booked my tickets ahead of time with an arrival 30 minutes before we were supposed to meet the other teaching assistants, thinking that would give me ample time. Not to mention the infamous pünktlichkeit of the German train system. However, it was for naught. Somewhere between Bonn and Cologne, there was a Personenschaden, which sounds like a horrific type of accident. So me and several others had to get off the train at Bonn and get on the U-Bahn, a much slower and less comfortable mode of transportation between the two cities. Luckily, I met a few other Fulbrights and we were eventually able to split a Taxi to Altenberg, a church/Hostel/conference center in the countryside.

I met so many wonderful people here and reconnected with William and Mary folks, which was awesome. My roommate Melissa and 2 others will be in Freiburg or the Freiburg area, creating a fun support group here. We had to participate in a classroom simulation, and my group planned a lesson on American dating, which was really fun. German teachers were our mentors in the classroom, and all of them were really helpful and enthusiastic about our being there. They emphasized positive reinforcement--abundant in American classrooms but lacking greatly in German classrooms. One teacher said, "you may be the light in their day. They're just waiting for someone to tell them they did something well."

Freiburg

Freiburg is a thriving university city of about 220,000. Surrounded by wine and leading to the deep Schwarzwald, Freiburg is such an idyllic place to live. People surround you on bikes--students, families, bums--yet people seem to take their time here. It's very gemütlich, to use a German term (warm, friendly, cozy). It also enjoys the best weather in Germany, which doesn't hurt.

My neighborhood is wonderful and I couldn't have a better location. I'm near the Hauptbahnhof, the Uni and the Altstadt. Across the street is a beautiful museum, and nearby you can hear the flowing Bächle, or these little water gutters. They apparently cool the city in the summer. The legend is this: if you fall into one of these gutters, you are destined to marry a native Freiburger; being an American at heart, I need to watch my step.

The Gymnasium where I will be teaching is wonderful. The teachers are lovely and my Beratungslehrer is obsessed with country music and used to host a country music radio show. I will probably work 12 hours a week, 4 days a week. I am part of the Fulbright diversity program, which seeks to introduce the US to students who have had little to no contact with the country and its culture. Students with migrant backgrounds don't make it to the Gymnasium in large numbers in Germany; however, my Gymnasium has the largest number of immigrant students than the other Gymnasiums in the area. On Monday I go in early to watch the students receive their class assignments, which is supposed to be a pretty big deal. On Wednesday, my Beratungslehrer will show me the town before we participate in an English department conference.

One of the Uni buildings. The inscription above the entrance reads, "Die Wahrheit wird euch frei machen," or "The truth will make you free."

Rathausplatz

The Theater

Small vineyard in my neighborhood

Museum next to my apartment

The Uni

Random meat truck, for your occasional Bratwurst craving

Bächle

Around my neighborhood

So, as of now, I have a few things in mind for my stay in Freiburg:

1. Become a guest student at the university

2. Take free dance classes every Thursday downtown

3. Visit schools other than my own (Grundschulen, Realschulen, etc) to see the differences in teaching and administration, and to introduce myself

4. Make German friends (Last night was a start--Melissa and I went to an overpriced bar and tried to liven the place up with our best dance moves. Only some found it amusing)

5. See Joachim Löw, coach of the German national soccer team and resident of Freiburg

6. Get a bike?

7. TRAVEL!

I'll try and write in this every week, maybe make it a Saturday activity. Bis nächstes Mal!