i'm back now, working on getting my germany pictures up and composing everything in my head for some good entries here.
stay put, children
since writing last i´ve seen some more stuff and on the whole it was great.
theres lots to say and you'll hear a good bit of it. just not right now. i don't FEEL like it. YEH?!?!?
KaPieRT?!?!?!
i think what i will remember most about this place is the colors. beyond colors as defined by wavelengths of light, i mean colors in terms of the connection one makes with an entire scene. last night, Uwe and i went to 3 bars, 3 totally different scenes. each one had its peculiarities, but all of them are archived in my mind as having a specific color, or better said, a taste.
the one bar was so crowded that we were forced to ask for a place at the stammtisch, at which normally onlz regulars are permitted to sit (and yes, there is an entire etiquette, though in these days is a more relaxed, that everyone adheres to which makes the stammtisch a very special thing). what i want to remember from last night is that i was drinking a beer, i've already forgotten the name as these things go but it was dark and commanding in taste, and the smell from the very simple kitchen, a smell of onions and oil and meat i think, was making me so hungry. i felt nurished just from breathing the air.
it's a cliché obviously, but since aquiring my taste for beer i simply have never had better brews than i've had here. you simply can't go wrong.
further, tonight we ate lasagne for dinner. just for something a little different, we ate it by the light of advent candles and a couple in the middle of the table. eating dinner basically in the dark should strike me as odd, not as something uncomfortable but as something weird i guess. it just didn't. i feel like i'm talking stupid now and really picking nits, but there's something very special about this place and how it's affecting that i just can't articulate.
what keeps coming back to me as i write these posts though, is that you're getting an extremely superficial perspective of what i am actually experiencing here. i think very subteley, i'm being exposed to something life changing, if only in that every experience i have is extremely visceral. everyday is surreal and i feel like i am living in someone else's body, but at the very same time everything is very very real, and hitting me right where it counts.
out of simple respect, expounding on the qualities and characteristics of my host family is something i don't plan on doing. But suffice it to say that their normal, everyday life brings me back years, to when i was maybe about 10 years old or something. more than once i've felt this very real feeling of youthfulness, the way a child is confused about everything, but aborbing it all just the same. it's really something.
unfortunately, i am now full blown sick. my throat feels raw and my nose is weeping constantly. no bother though.
i have no patience for a full entry right now. the vague tingle in the back of my throat has become a fullblown sore throat on the same day that i completely ran out of fresh clothes. i´m going to take it easy today and hopefully beat this before it gets out of hand.
tomorrow i am going into school with judith (6th grade i think?). apparently they had a homework assignment to think of five questions for me. i´m unconsciously reviewing my favorite colors and why i picked kerry over bush.
this time around i´m going to make an effort to use the right keys. here goes...
i have a couple of observations about life in germany as a guest. firstly, no matter how many years one has been learning german, the unceasing bombardment of german words once you´re in the country really starts to mess with your head. the language seeps into your deeper conscience until it´s almost like being drunk or on some substance, an omnipresent background noise in your mind that doesn´t go away. the way you sort of chatter to yourself when going about really mundane things is suddenly in this other language. its neat
secondly, the germans don´t have any idea how unconsciously funny they are. there is a shower product called "Dusch Das" (literally, "Wash That"). Wash that? They´re commanding me to do something about my unwashed state, as if common personal grubbiness is so unacceptable, that even the containers yell at you to do something about it. This product comes in flavors too. "Spacewalk" is one of them.
I tried buying a phone card yesterday and was humbled. The phone company is actually part of the postal service here, so to take care of phone business, you go to the post office. There´s a long counter at which 10 people are working. You wait in line and then as one of the people are freed up, they call you over. There was a cutish woman that I was holding out for, but as luck would have it, one of the more imposing, alligator-wrestler-type women called me over. I was prepared though. I had the whole transaction scripted in my head: "I would like to call internationally. What do I need?" Instead, I got about as far as "internat-" before my tongue gave out. Words seemed to take on the consistency of peanut butter as they spilled onto counter. We finally worked out what I wanted, just a 10 euro phone card, when I realized I left my money at home. "I´ll come back in a bit, okay?" was what I wanted to say. She heard: "I´ll soon jiffy soon back, savvy?"
It´s not hard to do things here. The problem is that when you´re talking to someone, you can tell the exact point at which they realize you´re foreign. It´s a game for me to see how long I last before hitting that tell-tale point at which they sort of breathe in, lean back, and focus a little harder.
i donät even feel like finding the proper keys on this keyboard so just pay attention and zouäll (you´ll) know what i´m trzing to say.
iäm in jena now and even after being here a few dazs, it feels like mz brain is changing shape inside mz skull. last night i dreamt verz vividlz, completlz in german. not all of it was fake german either, people used actual words in mz dream, trzing to explain things to me. at one point, i dreamt of one of mz friends who has never in her life said a single word to me in german, but spoke fluentlz in this dream.
there reallz is a degree of culture shock with a homestaz i think. i hesitate to wake up in morning because i have to put forth full effort just to make breakfast conversation. itäs especiallz terrible when i am confronted directlz with how weak mz german actuallz is. if i am tzping, i have time to work out the articles and the genders, and make with good grammar. talking with native speakers, however, is a verz humbling experience.
what i find also spectactular is that mz english is starting to suck. read that sentence again and zouäll see what i mean. Uwe, the father of mz hostfamilz, is an english teacher who has an extremelz cultured english accent. he speaks like a james bond who instead of joining the service pursued a Ph.D in literature. i notice that when i have to revert back to english, some of his accent has rubbed off on me.
the ngiht i arrived, i was tired bezond anz reasonable degree. i hadnät slept in about 24 hours, hadnät eaten. i was in prettz deplorable condition. there was, however, a partz that the Klemms (host familz) were invited to so i decided to go. thez have some verz interesting familz friends, all of them well-educated and completelz personable. i did mz best to keep up with the conversations but it was verz difficult. a whole feast was prepared for dinner with fantastic pork and all these side dishes with names iäll never remember. but i could barelz keep anzthing down. i was unfortunatelz plagued bz nausia from traveling and lack of sleep. it was still fun however.
after we got home i immediatelz showered and went to bed, onlz to wake up no less than 16 hours later in the middle of the afternoon. i felt refreshed for sure, but man. so long in bed. that night we went into the citz (everzthing is within walking distance) and saw the christmas festivities and prettz much most of the innercitz of jena. it was sooo beautiful, with smiling faces and people plazing music from the windows of tall buildings...glühwein, nüsse. so beautiful. and all the while Uwe alwazs has something more to saz about the historz of the citz or the significance of something. i am reallz fortunate to experience germanz this waz, with such intelligent, enjozable people around me.
i could go on even more, but i think this has grown much to long alreadz. sorrz about mz Y´s, i hope itäs not too hard to read.
i bought 15 minutes at a classier internet cafe under the trainstation. in comparison to the last one, i don't feel right now like i'm in the backroom of a petstore.
two internet cafes on my first day here. you would be right to call that sad, but i have until 2:30 (i have been here since 7:30) to do nothing. i explored around the station a ways, but for the most part, its handyshops, asian restaurants, and porn stores. oh god, the porn stores. theres more of them on a single street than there are starbucks in seattle.
i got on a train a few minutes after getting my shit together in the airport and got a really pleasant treat. it was daybreak, so there was a sheen of sugar ice on everything outside. i passed through these very industrial looking areas as the sky visibly changed from a steely blue to a chilly orange, and then i looked over to see a huge orange crescent on the horizon, the sun rising.
I have 6 more minutes. im going to walk around a bit more and probably come back a bit later.
i can already feel this place sinking into me.
internet cafe: frankfurt am main
that's where i am now. these keyboards are annoying and im hungry so i wont say much. everything is well.
this is what it looks like if i tzpe with the american kezboard lazout in mind.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20041209.wshoot1209/BNStory/International/
Dimebag Darrell was killed on stage last night while performing with his new band DamagePlan.
A psycho, a split-nerve piece of garbage killed Dimebag Darrell. He got on stage, yelled something about the break-up of Pantera, and shot Darrell 5-6 times point blank.
I can't think of a more heinous, selfish, unforgivable crime than taking away the life of a legendary artist over something so absolutely petty. Unbelievable. The only solace I can find in this is knowing that "Nathan Gale" is at this very moment getting his mouth stomped onto a curb in Hell by both Dimebag and Satan. What a complete travesty.
Respect to Darrell Abbott; thank you for giving the world your sound.
I honestly do not know where to begin.
My recent days have seen everything between marginally angsty to tragically oppressive, but I think tonight, I am finally taking back the yoke.
A Story to pass some time:
It all came to a head on the 1st of December. Although I had it for about half a year, I chose to complete my application for the Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange Program on the very last night possible. This is nothing new for Dan. Little did I know that it would take about 12 hours to complete, however. It was honestly more involved than applying to either RIT or Lehigh. By the time all three copies were collated and paper clipped, it was about 7:30 in the morning. Adrenaline held my eyes open, but I could not help but betray through general half-coherence that I had slept about 3 hours in the past 36. I got some coffee in me and was able to make it to work though. Directly after work I have Business German, for which I was actually prepared. Participating in class somehow kept me awake and I made it through.
Lunchtime came around, but I was denied food. Instead I had to finish an astronomy project with my partner, which I think turned out pretty damn well. Unfortunately, I couldn't make it all the way through astronomy and was probably asleep within 10 minutes of class beginning. Then I went straight to my final class of the day to watch some people's presentations. Fine and good.
Well, the day wasn't over. The night before, I decided that I wanted to go on this climbing trip to a gym in Reading, PA. I didn't think I would be able to make it once 7am hit, but somehow, when I got out of German at 4:00pm I really felt like climbing. I got a chicken quesadilla for dinner, all I had eaten since breakfast, and walked down to meet the climbing group. After no sleep and a hell of a lot of stress, I was excited to fall asleep in the car. I would find release climbing in a really cool gym, sleep on the way home, and everything would be in order. Fine and good.
Fucking rods in my back. We hop into these vans that have 'ergonomic bucket seats' which means I am propped, artificially slouching, in the most awkward, uncomfortable position possible. All I wanted was for the moan of the engine to lull me to sleep.
It was not to be. The driver had this way of pumping the gas so the entire trip felt like a carnival ride. *Accelleraaaate...coast.........Accelleraaaate...coast.........* There would be no sleep in this fan. Between the stop and go traffic, the discomfort, and the irritability that comes with being underrested, I was growing increasingly aware of my stomach. Conversation among the others fell upon diners, and the best place to get greasy food. The dude behind me insisted on popping his gum, the dude in front of me insisted on talking all the time, in his friendly (but in this case, infuriating) drawl, the driver insisted on using physics to stir my insides like old women scramble eggs...
My hands were ice-cold with nausea. My forearms tingled as every shift in momentum stirred and aggravated the retched cocktail in my stomach. That was it. Announcing it like the bad news it was, I fucking tossed my damn quesadilla.
Luckily it rained that morning. I had a bag in which I put my application so it wouldn't get wet on the walk to the post office. That same bag cupped around my lips, I let loose. I don't know how, but I also managed to miss. It wasn't long before conversation went from laughing and joking to the forced humor people use to cope with a truly terrible situation. We pulled over so I could chuck the bundle of digestoid, but there was just no defeating the smell. I covered what spillage I could with my bag and coat and kept quiet for the rest of the ride.
Of course it wasn't over. There was about 20 minutes left, 20 minutes during which I would have an intense internal battle between my mind and body, a fierce argument to convince my stomach not to do it again. My mind pleaded, "We are out of bags. There is no place left to do it. Traffic is fast and dense, we cannot pull over. Please just hold on." A punic victory, I did manage to hold on until we parked at the gym.
Delirious, awake only in that my eyes were open, and feeling like if I died that night, it wouldn't come as a big surprise, I managed to stammer to the driver that I would take the keys to the van. I would take care of myself and clean up the car, "don't be concerned with me. I'll be fine." I took the keys, and lumbered with the rest of the group into the building.
Bathroom. Surreal. It was as though they were expecting me. A small wooden bench was placed on the wall directly in front of the toilet. A roll of paper towels and bottle of very watery, good smelling soap on the sink. I pulled the bench closer to the toilet, sat down, and pulled my own trigger.
As though I had cast a spell, my stomach, esophagus and larynx ushered forth with gravelly satanic tongues; it seemed as though the displeased ghosts of food I had eaten weeks ago were now being exorcised. By the time I had finished, you could convince someone that the toilet had backed up with river silt from an impoverished village in Africa.
I went to the sink to gather myself. My scleras were one uniform shade of red. Out of sorts from sleepless delirium, I dismissed concerns about how I was feeling and went about the process of cleaning my puke spillage out of the van.
It all felt like a dream, and not even an especially bad one. So many vaguely weird things happened or seemed to happen, as well as a few things that just don't happen normally. My mind would wander, just randomly inserting any disjointed bit of thought to a long chain of unrelated ideas. Even the blustery wind outside, the fast moving clouds, climbing briefly on completely convincing but fake rocks. It left an impression that I can't quite get my head around. Surreal.