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Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Drizzly thoughts



The morning makes your day: a good morning, a good day, or so the theory goes. Starbucks is built on it, or at least the café at the university where the lines are so long you have to weigh your caffine habit against the probably dirty looks you receive for walking in late. Waking to the sound of rain on the roof and the windowpanes can be soothing, a peaceful feeling of Mother Nature drinking her fill, smoky clouds pushing into the mording which, yeilding unwilling, gives unto day. The air is cleaner, fresher and bears the sharp scent of ozone. If you're lucky, the light reflecting between grey sidewalks and laden clouds charges the air with a strange intensity.

The sodden muck resulting from a steady drizzle dampens the spirits as well, as if the cold water has been pouring into my enthusiasm instead of just my collar. Nothing, however, is more exciting than a torrential rain or a lightning storm--provided, of course, of the appropriate shelter. Listening to rain and wind buffet the house and howl at the corners like an injured animal.

People of this area have a strange relationship to lightning: fear. For us, weather plays a crucial and tempermental role in our lives, changing suddenly and maliciously, cloudless skies of an unfathomable blue giving way to furious storms rolling in from the west. It can snow in June and September, be sunny one minute and hailing another. Driving into the mountains once I experienced sunshine, wind, rain, hail, lightning, snow, and back to sunshine. In the space of half an hour.

We fear the lightning as we fear few other things. Like peoples of an earlier age cowering before God we too are judged but indiscriminately, like a petulant child, and cower before that infinite power. Lightning inspires terror and frantic counting, if you are fortunate that there exists enough of a gap between the flash and the crash to not make the exercise superfluous.

But today is not such a day, and better pens than mine have exercised their creative bent on the subject of weather and storms. Today is a day that inspires no torrential writing of high creative quality; thoughts, like the weather, are insipid at best, dogged by the thought that I haven't been properly dry since breakfast.

And on a relatively unrelated note: "Still waters run deep." What the hell does that mean?

Sunday, September 23, 2007

The Music Review

Someone asked me yesterday what music I was listening to, and of course I drew a blank. So for those of you who, like me, consider leaving the house without headphones unnecessarily cruel, I give you: the music review (with thanks to Pandora).

Hello Saferide
H.S. is Swedish singer/songwriter Annika Norlin (heh... Norlin...). Her songs are often narrative, telling a story, and just all-around well done. The song San Francisco, available for download from her website, just basically makes me happy in a fruit smoothie kind of way.


Long Lost Penpal, from Hello Saferide

.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.

Ane Brun
I first saw her in concert a few years back, opening for someone else but I think I ended up liking her better than the band for whom she opened. She's got a fantastic voice, puts a lot of style into it, and it just sounds effortless.


Rubber & Soul, from Ane Brun feat. Teitur

.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.

Brett Dennen
He might have a voice you either love or hate, but I love it. In any case, he has fantastic songs and beautiful lyrics, sounds a little bit like Bob Dylan meets James Morrison. He'll be coming to town soon, as he's touring with the John Butler Trio. I've had a hard time finding a good video, but this is someone's interpretation of one of Dennen's songs.


Ain't No Reason, from Brett Dennen

.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.

John Butler Trio
If you don't know about them, you should. The guitarist is simpy amazing. I don't understand how people who play this well don't rule the world. Check out the video:


The guitar solo from Ocean, from JBT

.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.

Rob Drabkin
Reminding me of JBT is Rob Drabkin, a kid with big hair from Denver whom I saw in concert, also as an opener, and he blew me away. I'm unfortunately not able to find a video of his more virtuosic stuff, but he's just cool anyways. And he has big hair.

Go listen to him on myspace

.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.

Matt Wertz
I went to his concert last week, and it was great but short. He might be more pop than rock, though he doesn't even begin to approach the cheesiness of James Blunt ("You're beautiful...." bite me). I'd liken him more to John Mayer. My favorite song, 519, has no appropriate video, so, sucks to be us. I am in awe of his vocal chords, though, and wonder how they take the strain. He also tends to look like the whole thing is pretty strenuous.


Carolina, from Matt Wertz

.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.

Ashton Allen
This is the kind of song you play over and over again till you can't stand it, and then you keep listening. Some people liken him to some early Beatels; I don't really have a reference for him but I like 'im.


Better than I know and Dewdrops, from Ashton Allen

.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.

Gomez
One of my all-time favorites. I love them. Nuff said. And besides, the video is worth watching because it is just well done, and does a great job of narrative. They've probably gotten popular enough that I can no longer afford the concert tickets, boo.


See the World, from Gomez

.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.Ö.

Matt Costa
Sounds a bit like Jack Johnson meets Beatles, Matt Costa has simple lyrics, the kind of tunes that get stuck in your head and overall a lot of energy and enthusiasm.


Sunshine, from Matt Costa

Other great people: Rachael Yamagata, Our Lady Peace (yes, they have more than that one single), Ellis Paul, Josh Rouse, Ben Jelen (soso), KT Tunstall, Bright Eyes, Erin McKeown

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Stranger in a strange land


I left my house as the sun was setting, driving out of a sunset and into the reddish dusk that turned into gloaming. Driving eastwards, away from the hills, the strip malls and superhighway gives way to a 30-mph speed limit. Smallish, older houses huddle up next to the road as if for protection from being completely forgotten; not much happens here. Matching suburban-sprawl housing developments disappear and are replaced by bungalows and dusty tractors, and fences keep in a few cows or horses that seem to be lacking inclination to even move, much less escape. A woman jogs alone along the side of the road. I wonder where she's from, and where she thinks she's going. This is Route-66 territory, though that forgotten road runs far south of here. This is Colorado before money moved in, resolutely holding out against prairie palaces and golf courses.



The interstate runs north and south, south towards New Mexico, north towards Wyoming. I can be in Laramie in 69 miles. The speed limit runs to 75 mph (140 kmh), and state patrol dodges heavy transport trucks from Tennessee and Texas to enforce it. I roll along, windows down, sneaking glances at the brilliant sunset illluminating the hills to my west, now visible as a chain of ragged teeth against a darkening sky. I feel like I could drive for hours, days. Somewhere north of Meade the scent of cattle hits like a wall. Silos dot the landscapes reminiscent of the area's past and dwindling present as a farming community. Cattle feedlots and fields, tractors and 'home', bygones of the world following the Goldrush and the Cattle Kings as tenacious remnants of another era. It feels as if I'm Steinbeck out to discover the country in which I was born and know little about. Glitzy strip malls and truck stops the size of small towns tempt the weary, like Homer's Sirens, or at least Kafka's--for these are silent--into stopping for lukewarm coffee and the dismal but somehow comforting ubiquitous fried food. I resist their call and drive on, for I have "miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep."

Monday, September 17, 2007

Boxes

I didn't go paint boxes this morning. I should have, they could have used me and I didn't have any other plans. Instead, I cancelled, because I didn't deem myself capable of driving there nor of putting in much work.

I got up at dawn, as I do, choking down my breakfast which all of the sudden was making me nauseous. I went back to bed, figuring I was just over-tired and hadn't quite slept enough. I managed about 10 pages of reading and went back to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. I have spent today alternating between sleeping and reading Candide which should have taken me two hours max and instead took me the entire day. I went for a tiny walk which wiped me out, and that is the point where I called in sick on the boxes project. I was thrilled when the nausea subsided somewhat, though the thought of food still makes me want to toss my cookies. A few glasses of watered-down orange juice are all I've had since dawn, and I optimistically cut up a peach in hopes I can get it down.

WebMD and google have failed me; they don't know what I've got, and their top suggestion is side-effects from chemotherapy, which I don't have. I wouldn't call it chronic fatigue, just persistant. It's quite possibly the backlash of all the stress I've been having--my body telling me to take it easy or else. It's good I got as much done yesterday as I did, or else I'd be horribly "in the weeds", a restaurant term for being really f*ing behind and unable to catch up.

The plus side (I take my positives where I can find them) is that I borrowed two DVDs from the library I'd not otherwise have been able to watch, one of which somewhat relates to my honor thesis topic, about the Truth and Reconciliation tribunals in South Africa after apartheid. And the other one is in French, so that counts as studying, doesn't it?

Time to use my wakeful period to get stuff done, 5 pages at a time.....

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Snip snip snippets

In no particular order:

1. I am of the steadfast and unyielding opinion that the word 'like' should be permanently banned from the English language. Everyone knows how a valley girl sounds, but the grossly inappropriate usage of the L-word has become établié, so ubiquitous as to be completely, totally, and in all other ways unavoidable. Not only does it grate most unpleasantly on the ears, this annoying interjection reduces the average IQ of any statement by an automatic 50%. Minimum. It is impossible—and I use the word with full cognizance of its finality and nevertheless in firm insistence of its appropriateness—to sound intelligent while interjecting ‘like’ with all the enthusiasm and unconsciousness of a four-year-old with Tourette’s. “Don’t you, like, think that if we’re talking about, like, relative deprivation as the, like, cause of ethnic conflict, wouldn’t that, like, be supporting the, like, economic causes theory?” I kid you not. It happens. It denigrates an otherwise intelligent—or at least comprehensible—comment appropriate to a college student and reduces it to the intellectual and linguistical equivalent of picking your nose: not to be done in public, appetite-reducing for the poor souls in your vicinity, and if you’re lucky, you won’t have to eat it (you know, like, your words). Rant over.

2. Wait, new rant. I hate TV. A lot. And more every day. I think it has passed the point where you could convince me that TV is worthwhile, or even remotely interesting. It is noise, and always on, and irritating. My attention span is somewhere between that of a goldfish and that of a shoelace when it comes to TV, I can’t be bothered to watch it for more than ten minutes. But most of the time, I just want it to be turned off (for a change!).

3. Autumn is coming. We had the first cold and icky day since I’ve been here; it’s been good sleeping and good running, and makes me not feel so bad to be inside.

4. I want to steal people’s bicycles. Basically, anyone with a nice road bike. I’m not too picky.

5. We’re building a refugee camp out of cardboard boxes next week for an awareness activity about Darfur. It’s going to be pretty sweet, and pretty cool looking (I think).

6. I really like having my own bathroom, rather than sharing it with between two and five or six other people (depending on whose boyfriends were over). I miss living with cool people with whom I have some sort of a relationship. I enjoy having a living room, I guess, though I can never use it. The yard is cool too.

7. Turns out I don’t like driving all that much, only in the mountains with a fun car. Give me a bike (see no 4) any day.

8. You meet cool people in libraries. Librarians are cool people, though I don’t know if we qualify as actual real live librarians. Mostly we explain thirty thousand times a day how to look up books and how people can look up the books themselves so we don’t have to.

9. I know more people than I thought I did. Lots of cool people are gone from work but some are still there, and the new ones seem dece. I have classes with friends, astoundingly enough, and run into acquaintances with relative regularity. People remember my face, which is surprising and often more than I can say for them. One guy actually remembered I speak German, which is funny as I always used to completely omit his face from my memory and would be utterly surprised when he would speak to me in German elsewhere on campus and not just in the library. Goes to show you my memory for faces is contextually dependent.

10. Intro classes suck. Makes me wonder how half these kids got out of high school, honestly. I used to think my brother was overdoing the intellectual elitism regarding his classes, which he claimed were all too simple—but now I am starting to agree. I’m not particularly impressed by the level of thinking done by 95% of the people in five sixths of my classes. Also see comment no 1.

11. But most of my instructors are really good. The intro to astronomy and anthropology are taught by interesting people who make an effort, and they present the material in a way I understand. History is bearable if dry, and politics is really interesting even though I’ve already covered all the material thus far with various past research papers.

12. I don’t like reading as much at night. Which is why I am writing and not reading an article on mediation.

13. My to-do list has 23 items on it. C’est ma vie. Speaking of which, one of those items is to have my French evaluated. Turns out I don’t speak French, but I’ve decided I want to move to Belgium next summer, so I suppose I ought to one of these days.

14. I can highly recommend Pandora.com, as an internet radio (“music genome project”) which suggests songs you may like based on characteristics of music you have given in your preference. So far, I have come up with a ton of great artists, including John Butler Trio, Matt Wertz, Hello Saferide, Ellis Paul, KT Tunstall (I knew of her before), Brett Dennen, and others.

15. I've pretty much stopped drinking coffee, except on occasional days when I remember to bring spare change. I miss it, in that I enjoy the taste, but I don't have coffee cravings. I find Bagels to be pretty fantastic, particularly with humous, and I miss Brötchen.

16. My experiment: make it through the week on the food I bought on Sunday. Progress: haven’t starved yet. PS: wasabi peas are addictive.

Good night!

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

A public service

An anthropology class is not the place I would normally expecct to hear a public service announcement. So it was somewhat surprising to hear the Professor stop lecture 10 minutes early to inform us about various student service options available on campus, ranging from a women's resource center to a psychiatric clinic to an escort service to get you home safely at night. I appreciate the information, I suppose, though none of it is new and most of it probably not useful to me; I suppose I appreciate that someone bothered to inform us. But who is someone? Is this some new campus policy, that all intro anthropology courses discuss self-help options? I'm glad the administration is so concerned for our welfare; but then again, as tuition-payers we are the source of its income.

In many respects a college campus is a socialist environment. You pay a certain fee to be there and are thus entitled to many of the services on offer, and the rest seem to be subsidised. You have access to the health club and to resource centers, to doctors and sports-injury clinics, to social events, presentations, and theater, as well as computer labs and other facilities. Of course, like everything else in life this stuff costs money and nothing comes for free, so the fee (tuition) paid is designed to reflect this and is not a small number. Whether or not the fee is representative of the services received (or on offer) is not the point: You pay the same fee regardless of which services you use. And in most respects, you get what you need, you utilise those services which you require, and other students utilise different services. Why isn't this principle carried over into everyday life?

This isn't an argument for socialism per se, but rather the observation that this system seems to function efficiently and could be used as a model. Of course, there are some freedoms that are proscribed and perscribed, and you are limited to the quality and quantity of services on offer. Additionally, the fee paid for this lifestyle is obviously not perpetually sustainable, but rather is financed by extensive loans or private payment.

In Europe, by contrast, the education is publicly available and many of the services are otherwise on offer, though the campus community itself doesn't exist hardly at all. The services exist in a larger context: in Sweden, for example, you can be paid to go to the gym, you have access to subsidised health care or insurance. In much of Western Europe, the commodity for which we americans pay such high fees--higher education--is free. It is this dichotomy which is particularly interesting, as these societies provide the service of education as a benefit of a larger program--general society--whose fees--taxes--are borne by everyone, yet the education service itself is not necessarily of the quality seen in the US. That is, in terms of facilities and services on offer; the quality of the education alone is measurable by different standards and not by me.

Both of these trends (in America, expensive education with services in a society with little or no services; in Europe, free education with no services in a society offering a variety of them) have their issues. In Europe, one of the biggest political issues in almost all of the states is the payment, reform, and/or maintenance of the social welfare system, which in the US seems to be restricted to the limited welfare programs (i.e. social security or medicaid) provided by the government with huge private concerns being responsible for health care and other areas. Europe is also trying desperately to reform their education, either lower or higher or both (Britain as an example of the former, Germany of both). Take your pick.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Gottesbelästigung und Nagelknöpfe


This may not sound like the profound and utter revelation that this is--in fact, you may relegate it to the category of N.S.S.: No shit, stupid--but I assure you, this is big:


I write English better than I write German.


Obvious, right? Okay, so forget about the revelation part, this isn't Genesis or anything. It was worth a try, though.

My boyfriend's theory is that there are two distinct versions of me, an English one and a German one. As a student of politics I know to sit the fence on this one, and neither agree nor disagree, as I would imaginably be a rather poor and subjective judge. In any case, I apparently have a different sense of humor and methods of expression depending on the language I am speaking, some kind of linguistically induced multiple personality syndrome. And I guess his humor is distinct, depending on whether or not he and Leo are writing me in English or auf Deutsch.

I have managed to surprise the occasional unwary and unsuspecting German into thinking I am someone from Sachsen or something, a fellow Landesleut from a different neck of the woods, but my true colors show and within a short amount of time they figure out what I'm trying to pull. An example: I recently tried to explain blasphemy on a particularly English day, and all I could come up with was Gottesbelästigung (the actual word is Gotteslästerung), which is something approximate to assaulting God, the kind of assault usually preceded with "sexual". Way to go, points for the home team. Round two: Nagelknöpfe, which, instead of referring to the heads of nails in plurality, instead refers to the buttons of nails, which don't exist--not even in singular.

I blame my lacking German competencies on the American educational system and on my miserable career as a Germanist. The educational system, as it waits till college to encourage you to take a foreign language. The other reason, far more grevious and perhaps incorrigible, is the fact that most of the German literature I have read (Harry Potter does not count) has been in translation. Bachmann, Goethe, Nietzsche, Heine, Aichinger.... English, the lot of them. Please, don't throw anything, it wasn't my fault: the lacking enrichment of vocabulary was due to an insidious plot to ruin my life on the behalf of my profs.

See, were I to write this post in German, a) three of my four regular readers would probably not understand it, and b) I would have had to look up words like insidious (heimtückisch), incorrigible (unverbesslich) or perhaps unsuspecting (arglos). And as you all well know, I'm a pretty lazy person.

So: suggestions for phenomenal (sagenhaft) German prose, with which I have any hope of ameliorating (verbessern ....boring word) my disappointingly (enttäuschend) restricted vocabulary and my stilted (gespreizt or gestelzt) style?

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Give my regards to Watson....

In the face of persistent dissatisfaction and succeeding several hours of German history, I've decided to try and figure out What's Going On. It's hard to say, women being at the proverbial mercy--ah, mercy, ye who in this regard are not so merciful--of their conflicting and confusing (yes, men, we are confused by our emotions as well, though it stops well short of the male bafflement) emotions as we are. I'm attempting a Nietzschean regression, referring, of course, rather to Nietzsche's genealogical approach than his nihilistic philosophy.

My situation here is by all accounts passable, and comfortable, in that the comforts of a civilized, materialistic society are available to me without having to have carried them in my backpack. A desk to suit an executive though I am but a student; a bed big enough for two though I sleep alone; a car though there is nowhere to go. I do not want, nor do I starve, though the higher cost of living requires I tighten my belt and my budget. I am busy; or rather, I am behind, which has the gilt of inevitability and of inescabability to preclude any attempts at idleness. My to-do list follows me around like a hotdog on a string: not smoothly, occasioning comment, and reeking faintly. Still, the items will diminish slowly but surely, and the particular reductive effect of deadlines is not to be discounted.

It has also been a long time since I have had had more than an evening or two a week to myself, in which I was my own sole source of entertainment. I miss my boyfriend primarily for emotional and intellectual reasons, but also for the enrichment he provided to my social schedule, as someone with whom I spent a disproportionate amount of time, alone or with our combined or separate circles of friends. We are reduced to frequent but sometimes hurried conversations, our respective schedules conspiring against us and compounded by the time difference. This frustrates me; the connection makes me more aware of the distance than ever.

Various people, whom I would consider somewhere between friends and acquaintances, depending on the individual, have welcomed me back with relative warmth. In comparison with my social life in Germany, my social life here is like marmalade: high viscosity and therefore of slow speed, sweet but taken in small quantities, and moulds if left unused for too long. As mentioned, however, my assignments and my location of habitation now preclude extensive social activities--though I will admit that such activities are so few on offer that I can almost certainly accommodate them. Mostly I just feel out of place and lacking the desire to try and fit in. That will, I am sure, change with time to a certain extent. I will make (more) friends, or I will return to entertaining myself as I have in the past. I do not sit idle, and I can be happy without needing others.

My optimism is flagging somewhat, I must admit: or that which is flagging is my sense of challenge and discovery. Perhaps arrogant and almost certainly untrue, but I have the lackluster and dragging feeling of déjà vu, of having seen and done and experienced what there is to do here; not only that, particularly in light of the shining goal of graduation hovering before me, my classes appear less as an interesting intellectual challenge (or pass-time, depending on the level) and more as simply--work, items to be checked off a list. There is no wonder of discovering a new city, not to mention experiencing a new culture or language; I am already aware of the difficulties and drawbacks inherent in my system. It is the mystery that is lacking, not an inherent defect in my current situation; a fault I could accept, accommodate or ameliorate, but what is the solution to a missing mystery?

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Überlebt; überfordert?

Die erste Woche Uni habe ich nun überstanden, mit intakten Gliedmaßen und annehmbarer Laune. Es war etwas anstrengend, ein bisschen wie in einem See zu schwimmen, zwischen Algen ohne klare Sicht, wo es alles hingehen sollte. Dazu kam noch die erste Woche Arbeit (wollte ja alles gleichzeitig anfangen, sonst macht's ja kein Spaß).

Das Studium in den USA unterscheidet sich wesentlich vom deutschen Studium. Erster Unterschied: wir bezahlen viel Geld. Das sieht man. Die Einrichtungen sind schön und gepflegt, es gibt Computer frei zur Verfügung in fast allen Gebäuden, die Labor sind Weltspitze (mehrmals Nobelpreisgewinner für Physik), die Bibi ist riesig (du kannst dir neue Laptops und DVDs ausleihen) und zumindest von außen schön. Einen großen Rasen (,,Quad") streckt sich zwischen den Gebäuden, Blumenbeeten und Fahrradstraßen bezeichnen die Wege. Es gibt Teiche, je mit einer romantischen Brücke. Der italienische Baustil der Toskana prägt die Gebäude, deren rötlicher Sandstein mit der Grüne der Bäumen und Rasen kontrastiert. Es kommt mir gewissermaßen seriöser vor, professioneller.

Der Campus ist ein großer Stadtteil, eine Insel in einem liberalen See. Fast 4000 Studierende wohnen direkt auf dem Campus--Pflicht ist es, im ersten Jahr in den dreckigen Dorms zu wohnen, wo man ein Zimmer zu zweit teilt und alle Mahlzeiten in der Mensa zu sich nimmt. Es gibt einen Stadion, eine Laufbahn, eine Sporthalle, Theater, Amphitheater, Planetarium, usw. Es gibt auch sechs oder so Colleges, zu denen mein College der Arts and Sciences gehört--Geisteswissenschaften, wie man es hier nennt. Ingeneurwissenschaften, Architektur, Musik, und andere teilen auch die Einrichtungen.

Das Anmeldeverfahren findet im Internet einige Monate im Voraus statt. Mich habe ich in April für das Herbstsemester angemeldet. Manche Kurse verwenden einen ,,clicker", ein Gerät, mit dem du fragen (z.B. Mäthe- oder Meinungsfragen) in einer Vorlesung von 500 Leuten beantworten kannst. Deine Antworte werden auch deinem Profil zugeschrieben. In so einer Veranstaltung fühlt man sich etwas verloren, etwas vergessen und unwichtig, nur eine unter vielen. Man kennt sich nicht, nicht wirklich, wobei in einer kleineren Fakultät wie meiner lernt man sich irgendwann doch kennen. Wenn man Glück hat, teilt man den Kurs mit einem Bekannten oder Freund.

Da ich in Deutschland keine Grundstudiumsveranstaltungen belegt habe, kann mein Vergleich nicht so ganz stimmen, aber in den Grundkursen hier gibt es kein Referat, keine Hausarbeit, nicht wirklich. Die Note wird aus vielen kleineren Komponenten zusammengesetzt, Reaktionsschreiben von je 2 Seiten, Anwesendheit, Partizipation, usw. In den höheren Politikkursen schreibt man eine Hausarbeit von ugf. 15 Seiten und dazu noch zwei oder drei Klausuren. Sonst ist es eine Vorlesung, und man schreibt auf, was der Dozent sagt; außerdem liest man für jeden Kurs ugf. 30 Seiten pro Tag.

Die erste Woche kam mir wie eine Prüfung vor, einerseits eine Gelegenheit, zu zeigen, dass ich doch eine Ahnung habe aber anderseits ein Zwang, alles auf der Stelle zu können und zwar sofort. Die unterschiedlichen Ansprüche meiner Kommilitonen stoßen mit denen meiner klirrend zusammen, meine Welt ist die ihren sehr anders. Es ist isolierend, dass es in jedem Raum neue Leute gibt, und mit vielen will ich nichts zu tun haben. Die Jungs, die nur an Football denken, die Mädchen, die Sonnenbrillen so groß wie Teller tragen und wie Insekten aussehen--sie schreien ständig ihre Handys an, hören gleichzeitig auch Musik und das alles mit dem feinsten und gehobenen Valleygirl (ggf Surfer)-Akzent. Das Wort ,,like" findet Platz zwischen jedem zweigen Wort, sie reden teilweise grammatisch falsch, immer sehr laut, und nur vom Sich-am-Wochenende-bzw.-jeden-Tag-Betrinken.

Alle Leute sind nicht so. Nur, weil ich Einführungsveranstaltungen mitbelegen musste, komme ich mit dieser Art Leuten in Kontakt. Politikstudenten sind was anderes, und die Model-United-Nations-Leute sind eine Rasse an sich. Man kennt sich. Ich fühle mich mit denen wohl, während ich sonstwo einfich fehl am Platz bin.

Am ersten Tag griff ein geistlich Gestörter einen Ersti mit einem Messer an und versuchte, ihm die Kehle durchzuschneiden, bevor er sich selbst mit dem Messer verletzte. Man weiß nicht, warum er es gemacht hat. Dem Studenten geht es relativ gut. Er sagte: ,,ich wusste, dass es schwierig an der Uni anzufangen sein würde, aber so hart habe ich es mir nicht vorgestellt."

In der Bibliothek zu arbeiten macht mir Spaß. Alle mögliche Leute kommen herein und wollen Bücher und Hilfe, öfters gleichzeitig. Es gibt Leute, die bald ihren Abschluss bekommen und noch nie in der Bibi waren. Andere haben sich zum zig-tausendsten Mal verlaufen und wollen nur das eine Buch haben, nach dem sie zwei Stunden gesucht haben. Es macht mir auch Spaß, die Bücher anzuschauen, die ich einchecken muss. Alle mögliche Studienrichtungen, von Organentransplant zur Krisenbewältigung, Ethnologie und Chemie. Ich mag es, die Leute zu fragen, was sie mit den Büchern wollen--was sie für eine Arbeit schreiben, für welchen Kurs.

Leiter habe ich es nicht geschafft, in der Woche Hausaufgaben zu machen. Außer den Kurse hatte ich noch Arbeit, Termine, und zig Tausend private Sachen zu erledigen. Also stehe ich gerade einem ganzen Berg von Aufgaben gegenüber, denen ich mich nun widme.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Revue

The problem with revisiting things is obvious; the words themselves betray it: revisiting is visiting once again, but with less attachment and a different perspective. It’s the distance that gives you the perspective; the added experiences challenging your frame of reference and encouraging you to see out over the lip of “standard“. If you were lucky, you weren’t just a tourist the first time around, but the way most people are and hindsight being what it is, chances are you were more or less in the passenger’s seat with headphones on than actually driving your previous experience. Some days I’m not convinced I’m not still a tourist, but the tour guide is notably absent and there would be no one to give me my money back if I’d wanted it.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Der heutige Ausflug



Heute sind wir wandern gegangen. Man erinnert sich, ich wohne in den Rocky Mountains, also sind wir Bergsteigen gegangen.

Wanderausrüstung:
1. kurze Hose
2. lange Hose
4. T-shirt
5. Langärmliges T-shirt
6. Pulli
7. Windbreaker oder Regenjacke
8. Cappy
9. Hut
10. Sonnenbrille
11. Handschuhe
12. Mütze
13. Sonnenmilch
14. Mittagessen und Snacks
15. Wasser - 1 bis 2 L pro Person
16. Erste-Hilfe-Kit
17. Kompass
18. Ersatzsocken
19. Normale Socken
20. Wanderstiefel
21. Rücksack
22. Labello
23. Kamera

Blöderweise habe ich die Handschuhe und die Mütze vergessen, die Anderen auch, also sind wir ohne aufgebrochen. Man glaubt ja nicht, es sollte am Tag 35 Grad werden, wozu braucht man also Handschuhe? Glaubt mir, sie sind nötig.


(Bild nicht von heute--es war alles grün diesmal)

Um dorthin zu gelangen, wovon wir aufbrechen wollten, mussten wir noch eine halbe Stunde in die Berge fahren. Dort bogen wir ab, und sind eine Straße gefahren, die sowohl die schönste ist, die ich kenne, als auch die schlechteste. Da sind Löcher wie Badewannen, die versteckt hinter der Ecke auf dich warten, um dich zu einem sofortigen Abbremsmanöver zu zwingen.



Ich stellte mir vor, ich wäre eine Autorennfahrerin und bin fast doppelt so schnell gefahren, wie man darf, mit der Annahme, dass sich kein Polizist in diesem einsamen Ort aufhält. Vor 8 oder 10 Meilen hörten sie auf, die Straßen im Winter zu räumen--die Straße ist im Winter gesperrt. Wegen der Straße bin ich in der Mitte gefahren, oder besser gesagt, dort gefahren, wo es am Wenigsten Löcher gab. Das Gefühl, wieder Auto zu fahren, habe ich endlich wieder genießen können, denn es macht mir nur Spaß, wenn es viele Kurven, nicht unbedingt einen Zaun, und ein schnelles Auto gibt. Spaßvogel wie ich bin hat mir leider die Straße in Grenzen halten können, jedoch gab es doch einige Strecken, wo mein kleiner ,,Dominick" sich die sprichwörtlichen Beine strecken konnte.


(Guanella Pass Road)

Es sollte 4,5 Stunden dauern und über 900m Höhe auf 14km haben. Der Parkplatz war schon auf 3.300m, also hatten wir etwas Vorsprung. Um 3.100 hören die Bäume schon auf: Kinder, das nennt man ,,alpin". Auf 3.300 wachsen noch viele Pflanze, viele Blume, und der abartig tägliche Regen hat dafür gesorgt, dass es alles wie die Schweiz und nicht der Sahara aussieht. Ein unverdächtiger Holzsteg überspannte Sumpf, Morast und Treibsand, führte zwischen den Buschen und kleinen Seen, und wartete darauf, dass man nicht mehr aufpasst: Letztes Jahr war ich mit einer Freundin dort; sie drehte sich um, um mir etwas zu erzählen und ist vom Holzsteg in die Sumpf gefallen. Sie durfte noch 5 Stunden mit nassen Stiefeln wandern, und ich darf das mit einem Lächeln weitererzählen.

Hoch, höher, zickzack hoch. ,,Sind wir schon da?" fragte R. Wir sind nicht mal 'ne Stunde gewandert; der Berg täuscht immer. Es sieht immer so aus, als ob man den Gipfel gleich, bald, demnächst erreicht--nur um festzustellen, dass es doch noch etliche weitere Hügel dazwischen gibt. Der flache, gerade Weg wurde steiler und steiniger, eine leise Andeutung, dass es schwieriger werden würde, bevor es besser wird. Irgendwann konnte man ihn auch nicht mehr als ,,Weg" bezeichnen, denn es waren nur Steine, überall Häufchen Steine auf anderen Steinen mit Steinen dazwischen und obendrauf und daneben (es heißt nicht ,,Rocky Mountains" umsonst, ihr könnt mir glauben). Der Weg wurde nur mit Steintürmchen (,,cairns") angedeutet, aber da man eh' nicht dorthin kommt, ohne zu klettern, ging man dem Gipfel einfach geradezu nach. Es heißt auch ,,scrambling", nicht mehr wandern: da klettert man einen Steinhaufen hoch. Nur, dass unser Steinhaufen eigentlich der Gipfel war.


(the last scramble ascent towards the peak)

Man schleppt einen Rücksack mit lächerlich vielen Sachen drin den ganzen Weg (siehe oben). Das Wetter ist schön, nicht wahr? Wozu braucht man das Ganze? Je höher, desto kälter--und die letzte Stunde nach oben ist man dem Wind ausgesetzt. Es gab schon längst keine Bäume, und die bescheuerten Steine, über die man klettern musste, waren unpraktischerweise zu klein, um einem armen, eingefrorenen Wanderer Schutz zu bieten. Also Handschuhe, und Mütze, und sämtliche Pullis und Jacken und alles, was man besitzt zogen wir an. Wir hatten aber keine Handschuhe, also nahm ich meine Ersatzsocken und zog sie an.

Auf dem Gipfel redeten wir mit den Anderen, die wir im Laufe des Tages immer wieder überholte und von ihnen überholt wurde. Unter anderen waren das eine Mutter, mit ihrem siebenjährigen Sohn sowie zwei Männer, ein davon 77 Jahre alt! Mit uns waren auch einige Jugendlichen und einige Rentner. Das sind nicht die Amerikaner, die zum Fettleibigkeitsstatistk beitragen.

Wir schafften es mit 5h30 inklusiv einer 45-minütiger Mittagspause, also nicht ganz so schlecht. Der Gipfel heißt Mt. Bierstadt (nur deutschsprachige Leute finden das lustig) und ist ein von 56 ,,Fourteeners" (Berge mit über 14.000 ft--4.200m--Höhe) in Colorado, und ist wahrscheinlich der leichteste. Sauerstoffmaske braucht man nur wenn man über 80 ist.

Auf dem Heimweg aßen wir Softeis in einem Hotdog. Das Restaurant ist ein 13-meter Würstchen im Brot. Es war früher im Dorfzentrum, wurde allerdings letztes Jahr umgezogen (stellt euch vor, ein 13-m Würstchen mit einem Anhänger durch den Bergen zu transportieren---muss unheimlich lustig ausgesehen haben). Großer Aufstand: vor einigen Jahren ist ein Ende der Wurst abgefallen. Ja, ich weiß, mein Dorf ist klein :).

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Fair enough.

Yesterday marked the three week anniversary of me being back where I grew up, back "home" which is strangely somehow still home even as it no longer much resembles that which I once knew.

It's been a bit surreal, to be honest. I've hung out with people I haven't seen since highschool; visiting is someone I met when she was 13 and is now turning into a woman and would be driving if she were American. My brother is gone and moved out, out in the Big Scary Real World with a Real Job. Which he doesn't like, but what gives. I guess I am used to a long-distance relationship, at least with him, as we haven't seen each other for more than 4 weeks a year for the past three or four years. And speaking of long-distance relationships, even though I've never wanted one, I've got one with the boyfriend I left behind in Germany. Figuring out how to be a plural through email and skype is hard, and frustrating, and the best we can do right now.

I didn't want to leave Germany; I've made no secret of it but it is not due to not wanting to "go home", but rather a desire not to leave the friends that had become my family in Germany. The first week was pretty hard for me, and I had another taste of the depression I only very seldom feel, which is therefore always to some extent unexplored territority. My mood has improved with time and the support of my long-suffering family.

My laptop and I have had a deep and personal relationship these past weeks. Though I do (did) have two very large papers to write (ca 25 pages, 1 1/5 pt spaced, in German) and on which I have been working furiously, I won't deny using my computer and my drive to work as a way to a) shut out the world and b) have space of my own. I'm not used to living in a family, even mine, and I think the opposite is true--that my parents aren't quite as used to having kids around as they were when we all lived there. I'm not used to always having people around, to eating together all the time, to people coming and chatting, etc. Family dynamics are never simple, and four discreet adults living in one space leads to issues of various natures.

Running into old acquaintences is difficult for me, because with every meeting I realize that I have almost nothing more in common with them. I might as well be speaking German for all they understand; our conversations tend to fizzle out after
"hi, how are you?" "Fine," "how was Germany?" "Germany was great; how's school?" "Oh, just fine". Superficial of course, and it can't be any other way, but my life seems to be so much outside their frame of reference that I find it difficult. Not that these people don't still care about me, or what happens to me--but I almost feel as if I am better in the 3rd person, as a story my parents are relating to someone rather than something I am telling someone. My old friends are all still lovely people, and we still get along. Sometimes our conversations dwell in the past, in the only area we may still have in common, though I am learning to like and love them for the people they have become and not just the people they were. I cannot change the fact, however, that many of my closest friends here have moved on.

Our houseguest, my mother and old friends have got me out of the house, sometimes against strong resistance on my part. That is the sign that made me realize I'm not always doing as well as I appear to--it doesn't bother me to sit inside on a gorgeous day and work on the computer. I usually view that either as a punishment or to be untertaken only in dire need. I'm not itching to get out; the part of me that was immersed in nature and outdoors is the part of me sitting quietly in the corner, trying to pull herself together, at least for others' sake. But my second paper is coming along and nearing its conclusion, leaving me with no excuse to bury myself in work. And I know I will be okay with time; my buoyant personality and almost perpetual optimism and cheerfulness has not completely deserted me, and as I immerse myself in what will become my life I will have friends and activites that don't leave me feeling quite so stranded.

I've got a week of break, five pages and revisions on the paper to go, and a lot of stuff to take care of remaining. My semester will be full; aside my heavy courseload I will be applying for scholarships, grad schools and internships in three or four countries and in at least two languages. I am determined to graduate in May and move back to Europe, though I don't know where and only slightly know how. And the prospect, as exciting as it is, is also scary. This time, I am not intending to go for anther year and come back, I am going to stay. Which means I have to string along studies and jobs and internships, working as a foreigner under visa restrictions, and making it on my own. My parents' extensive contribution to my education will conclude with my first degree, leaving me to make the life for myself that I want. I may be dependant on friends where I would otherwise be depenant on family, and I don't have it all figured out. Still, I relish the challenge, and the first one is getting there.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Bon anniversaire...

Thank you to everyone who has wished me well or called to say hi! I love you all! (sniff)



We went to a concert yesterday at the Bluebird to celebrate. The band was Finger 11, and I have to admit, I only knew one song of theirs ("one thing"). So I listened a bit from their site and others before going; by that point I was up to three songs I knew and liked.

I wasn't sure we'd get in, to be honest. This lack of forethought occured to me as we were approaching the door and I was reading the sign "Valid ID required". It was a 16 and over show, so no problems for me--I could (finally) even get into the 21 and over. But R. is 16, and German, and without her passport. The chick examines my ID and turns to R. "She's German," I say, and we hand the lady R.'s German bus pass--the only thing approaching ID she has, and has been using all week for her credit card purchases--which has no birthdate. But no worries, we are in.

The best thing about concerts is the people-watching. You really get all kinds. Since it was a hardrock concert there were your usual goth-punk-types, sporting a fabulous combination of huge black pants large enough to accomodate their five closest friends, a band T-shirt or black tank, enough facial piercings to look like they encountered shrapnel on their way in, and platform black boots for the "ladies". Then there were the teenies, looking like miniature Britney Spears (before she got pregnant, crazy, and eventually bald) and running in packs. I swear, these girls can go nowhere independently. There were pairs of all persuasions; one couple looked like Britney and Dr. Dre in miniature; one biker-type in his late 30s had a girlfriend who was a unique combination of 20-years-younger, corpulent, and punk.

Watching the realtively normal-looking kid next to me rock out (his rocking-out ended up infringing on my personal space repeatedly, but what can you do? Kicking people in the balls is rather asocial) and his friend twitch to the beat like an epileptic on the Vegas Strip at night was rather entertaining. Throughout the opening acts, the only person getting into it was a kinda round fellow up at the front. As the night progressed and the place filled up, we were subjected to a band of drunks of the fratboy persuasion attempting balancing acts on the railing behind us and screaming for a drumstick. I was hoping they might have gotten clocked by one, but then they would have landed on us, and that would have somewhat reduced our enjoyment of the concert. One exquisitely socially awkward girl, sporting her newly purchased T-shirt above her black goth jeans wanted to give one of them a high five for having caught it, whose effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that she spent about a minute and a half holding her hand up, waiting for him to notice her.

The first opening band was from Winnipeg, Canada. They were your stereotypical emo-rock band, complete with tight hipsters, cool T-shirts ("don't mind the hipsters") amd matching belts in a combination I am sure they thought was cool. They had all the rockstar moves down, too, prancing around like eight-year-olds on methamphetamine. They were hilarious and their music wasn't bad; the drummer spent the entirety of their set with his mouth open, streaming sweat. Think Questionable Content. The next two bands weren't two memorable to me, and a bit too much hard rock tending on metal to be to my taste. The mosh pit at the front ended up being completely insane, and mostly involving the left side trying to shove over the right side, who took revenge, resulting in a jumping, writhing mass of humanity bent on turning dancing into a contact sport.



Finger 11, the band we had come to see, was worth going to see. Their music is somewhat more lyrical than the other bands. During the (one and only) song I really knew, a group of girls in the pit managed to make it up on to friends' shoulders and flashed the singer, who almost whiffed his lyrics and started laughing instead of singing. I'm sure he wasn't expecting that. The place was full, the band was playing, and the floor was shaking like a small earthquake from all the people jumping to the beat. Viva le concert et bon anniversaire à moi.

Video for Paralyzer



Finger 11 - One Thing

Restless tonight
Cause I wasted the light
Between both these times
I drew a really thin line
It’s nothing I planned
And not that I can
But you should be mine
Across that line

[Chorus:]
If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

I promise I might
Not walk on by
Maybe next time
But not this time

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds

If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds
If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

Monday, August 13, 2007

What happens in Boulder stays in Boulder...





...until it gets posted on the internet.

At least, that's what R.'s T-shirt says. The picture is of a hot tub containing a man and a goat. I guess you had to be there.

In der alten Wohnung anzukommen war nicht gerade das, was ich erwartet hatte. Ich weiß es nicht, was ich erwartete, oder was mich erwartet. Von den zwei Leuten, die außer mir in diesem Haus wohnen, kenne ich nur einen. Wir waren vorher schon Mitbewohner, und es hat einigermaßen geklappt. Der andere ist neu, arbeitet beim Supermarkt und kommt aus demselben Vorort, wo er jetzt wohnt.

,,Welche Tür ist eure?" fragte R. Ich deutete auf die Tür, die sich langsam zu öffnen anfing ,,Hilfe! Wieso geht die Tür jetzt auf??" schreit sie: automatischer Türöffner.

Wenn ihr schon mal bei mir zum Kochen wart, wisst ihr, dass ich gerne koche. Dementsprechend sollte die Küche auch einigermaßen sauber sein, weil ich ja keine Angst vorm eigenen Kühlschrank haben will. Wie dieses Krümmelmonster von der Sesamstraße drehe ich manchmal durch, wenn rücksichtslose Menschen mein sauberes weißes mit Fliesen bedecktes Paradies unnötigerweise beschmutzen (anscheinend habe ich nichts Besseres zu tun als mich drüber aufzuregen).

Aber die Küche war das Vorbild der Reinheit und Sauberkeit im Vergleich zum Badezimmer. Angeblich hat mein Bruder alles geputzt, aber da das Wasser von der Badewanne langsamer als eine beschädigte Schnecke abläuft ist was wirklich Ekliges übrig gelassen, als ob zwanzig haarige Tiere täglich drin gebadet hätten. Mit Putzmittel und Schwämmen bewaffnet führten wir Krieg gegen das Badezimmer. Wir mussten uns die Nase halten, erstmals wegen dem Geruch vom Zimmer, und später wegen dem Geruch von der Putzmittel. Die Wanne musste ich erstmals lassen--die hat mich ausgetrickst und wehrte sich gegen jeglichen Angriff meinerseits.

In meinem Elternhaus bleibt es immer kühl und angenehm--und wenn es draußen weniger als 20 Grad ist, ist es drinnen geradezu kalt. Man zieht einen Pulli im Sommer an. In Boulder dahingegen ist es genau das Gegenteil. Mein Zimmer ist im 1. OG, und wir haben keine Klimaanlage, nur einen Ventilator, der sich wie ein kleines Flugzeug anhört. Damit haben wir geschlafen, die Gute-Nacht-Lieder vom Ventilator gesungen, in der vergebenen Hoffnung, nur mal einen kleinen Luftzug hineinzulocken. Ohne Erfolg. Wir schliefen auf der Decke, überhitzt und unbequem.

Es gibt nicht so viel zu tun in der Stadt. Die Stadt ist cool, und besonders toll für Amerikaner wegen der Fußgängerzone und den vielen schönen interessanten Cafés. Einem Europäer bringt es vielleicht etwas weniger, obwohl vom Baustil her ist sie immer noch sehr cool. Es gibt einen "Farmers' Market", wo man Biogemüse, Feinschmeckerkost, Mandelbutter, Ziegenkäse, und Pfirsiche bekommt. Das Beste daran ist, dass es bei jeder Stände etwas zu probieren gibt; Früchte und Käse, Brot, Pesto, Kekse und Getränke.

Die restliche Zeit ist mir verloren gegangen; mit Spaziergängen und Shoppen verbracht, glaube ich. Es gibt Läden nur für Spielzeuge, wo man vor einem Jahr hätte spielen können, aber wegen Umbau ist es langweilig geworden. Es gibt ein Teehaus, ein Geschenk unserer Partnerstadt in Tadschikistan.



(Pearl Street Mall in Boulder)

Unser Waffenkammer hieß ,,Target", und hat uns die Mittel unseres Sieges verkauft: Abflussreiniger, Wasserfilter, Wischer, Putzmittel. Mit einiger Anstrengung und der ganzen Flasche Reiniger (,,Halten Sie dieses Produkt von Kindern, Händen, Haustieren, Teppichen, Behinderten, der Luft, Kleidung, Feuer, Stiefmütter, usw. fern") hat die Wanne aufgegeben und mich sie endlich reinigen lassen.

Meine Mitbewohner wurde im Notzustand ausgewählt--weil ich außerhalb wohne, stehen die Studierenden nicht in Schlangen, um einzuziehen. Mein erstes Jahr waren die anderen zwei Studierende, mit denen ich mich nie unterhalten habe, denn ich sie kaum gesehen und nur ihr Geschirr ständig in die Spülmaschine eingeräumt habe. Sie sind beide ausgezogen, und ein Mann Mitte 40 und ein Junge, der eben seinen Abschluss hat, sind eingezogen. Der Mann ist noch da, und der Junge wurde durch einen Anderen ersetzt, weil der erste von einer Drogenüberdosis im Zimmer gestorben ist. Der neue ist sehr nett, sehr höflich, nicht besonders hell, und arbeitet beim Supermarkt. Ich glaube, den Beiden beibringen zu können, die eigenen Sachen wegzuräumen und gelegentlich zu putzen. Der Mann arbeitet viel, hat überhaupt keine Möbel, und macht Ironman dieses Jahr zum 7. Mal. Seine Frau ist vor drei Jahren im Autounfall gestorben.

Wir wollten ins Kino. Ich musste es erstmals finden, denn ich war noch nie da, und ich hatte nur die Kreuzung aufgeschrieben. Irgendwo hinter dieser Mall sollte es sein. Gefunden:

,,Das macht drei Dollar."
,,Für jeden?`" fragte ich, überrascht--ich hatte sechs oder so erwartet.
,,Insgesamt. Für euch beide."

Gute Idee, einen etwas älteren Film zu gucken. Shrek3 war lustig, wenn nicht besonders original. Immerhin hat er mir gefallen.



Es heißt ,,People's Republic of Boulder", (bin ich die Einzige, die eine Ähnlichkeit mit ,Democratic People's Republic of Korea'--Nordkorea--sieht??) denn es wie ein eigenes Land und tut so, als ob es zum restlichen Colorado nicht gehört. Die Leute dort hassen Bush wie die Pest, es ist politisch sehr liberal und auch sehr stolz drauf. Die Stadt ist voll mit Hippies und Öko-Menschen--öfters sind die dieselben--und es kommt mir vor, als ob selbst die Kinder tätowierte sind. Rastalocken sind üblich, am Besten mit ,,Fair trade" Kleidung. Kiffen ist wie ein Nationalsport, die Leute meditieren und machen Yoga, und es gibt drei Biosupermärkte in Laufweite voneinander. Die Stadt hat eine sehr eigene Kultur, ist für Demos und Kriegsgegner bekannt, und ist stolz drauf.

Wir wollten ganz früh wandern gehen, denn es sollte bis 35 Grad oder so werden, aber wir waren erst um 10 da. Auf dem Schild stand ,,2 Stunden" für unsere Route, aber wir waren innerhalb von 1h20min wieder unten. Die ersten 3 Km sind praktisch Treppen, und wieder nach unten war noch schlimmer, denn wir haben den richtigen Pfad verfehlt und mussten tatsächlich runter klettern. Das ist ja aber keine Überraschung, wenn ihr mich kennt.


(wo wir wandern waren)

Müde von der Wanderung und der Fahrt (natürlich habe ich mich verfahren, was glaubst du?) saß ich in der Küche, geduscht, in einem Kleid und war dabei, ein großes Stück Wassermelone zu essen. Tür geht auf: ,,Kannst du bitte deiner Mutter helfen?" Kein Problem, aber: Meine Mutter war dabei, massive Stapeln von Holz schnitzeln zu lassen. Es war wie ein großer Müllhäcksler (das habt ihr ja auch nicht---das ist dort, wo wir unseren Biomüll hintun. Es verschwindet alles im Waschbecken durch diese geile Maschine), außer der Tatsache, dass es ganze Bäume schlucken kann. Mein Nachmittag war ja weg....

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Oi vey....

...es ist ja August. Ich hätte nicht gedacht, dass die Zeit so schnell vergehen würde.

Ich hätte auch nicht gedacht, dass es hier in August so viel regnet. Die ganze Zeit in Deutschland hatte ich mich darauf gefreut, endlich wieder einen richtigen Sommer zu haben mit 30 Grad und Sonnenschein. Natürlich bin ich angekommen und was macht es? Es regnet. Dafür sind die Stürme sehr spektakulär und es macht Spaß, ihnen zuzugucken. Grundsätzlich sind alle Fenster im Haus auf--hier gibt es keine Mücken, zum Glück--weil unser Haus eher einem Kühlschrank ähneln soll. Oder sowas in der Art.

Am Wochenende sind wir mit den Pferden weggefahren. Pferde, wie mich einer daran erinnerte, sind ziemlich viel Aufwand. Damit haben wir Tage verbracht, alle mögliche Teilchen aus dem Truck auszuräumen, uns zu überlegen, wofür sie überhaupt existieren, und sie nach einem nur einer Person bekannten Plan wieder hineinzustellen. Praktischerweise haben wir relativ viele Sachen ins Haus gebracht und sie dort natürlich vergessen.

Irgendwie schafften wir es, Pferd, Zelte, Essen, Kleidung, und alle mögliche Pferdezubehör einzupacken und loszufahren. Wir mussten noch zwei weitere Pferde abholen, die uns ausgeliehen wurden, und zwei von denen waschen. Ich weiß es nicht, ob ihr mal versucht habt, ein Pferd zu waschen---wenn's gut geht, ist es einfach. Meistens aber hat das Pferd kein Bock darauf und verbringt die ganze Zeit mit dem Versuch, wegzulaufen. Man steht in der Mitte, das Pferd kreist herum, und man zielt darauf mit dem Schlauch. Wenn mann's schafft, Seife aufzumachen, muss man sie wieder wegbekommen. Wie es auf der Shampoo-Gebrauchsanweisung: Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Geschafft. Das dritte Pferd mussten wir extra abholen, und in der Einfahrt zum Stall bin ich von einem der fünf Hunden gebissen worden. Die Hunde sind australische Schäferhunde, manche sehr schön, andere mit einer Farbe, die wie eine Hautkrankheit aussieht. Es war der kleinste Hund, der mich biss und mein Jeans riss. Wir haben alles aufgebaut, unsere zwei Zelte und die Befestigungsplätze für die drei Pferde. Wir sind fast die einzigen, die zelten: fast alle sind mit riesigem Campingwagon und Anhänger (so groß wie ein LKW) angekommen, der wie ein kleines Haus ist. Manche haben sogar Mikrowelle, Dusche, und Fernsehen.

Wenn man irgendwo hinreiten möchte, muss man zwei Stunden vorher aufstehen und den Pferde ihr Futter geben. Das heißt, dass wir um halb 6 schon auf den Beinen waren. Es gibt fast nichts schlimmeres, als früh morgens im Zelt aufzustehen und sich anziehen zu müssen (schlimmer noch ist früh morgens im Zelt aufzustehen und einen nassen Tauchanzug anziehen zu müssen). So ungefähr wie sich mit einem nassen Lappen zu waschen während man vom Schlaf verwirrt durch die Gegend torkelt und über Gegenstände stolpert.

Wir sind am Samstag fast 8 Stunden geritten, mit 45 Min. Mittagspause und zweimal zehn Minuten Pause. Im Wettbewerb geht es darum, innerhalb von einer bestimmten Zeit (nicht mehr als ein Viertel Stunde vorher oder naher) anzukommen, die Strecke im Tempo geschafft zu haben, und dabei irgendwelche ,,Obstacles" zu überwinden. Man würde nicht glauben, wie viele Pferde höllische Angst vor Plastiktüten oder Ähnlichem haben, was die Sache etwas schwieriger macht. Samstag Mittag, kurz vor der Pause, fing es an zu gießen. Ich natürlich wollte meine Regenjacke nicht anziehen (,,es wird gleich mal aufhören...") und bin völlig nass geworden. Zu der Zeit sollte ich auch so n Obstacle machen, worauf mein vom Regen verärgertes Pferd überhaupt keine Lust hatte und Widerstand geleistet hat, indem es einfach seitwärts gegangen ist. Natürlich hatte es den ganzen Abend nur gegossen, und wir verkrochen uns ins Zelt um 21h zum Schlafengehen.

Sonntag sollten wir auch nur 5 Stunden reiten, dafür aber wollten wir schon um 6:15 starten. Das heißt, dass wir um 4:15 wieder wach waren. Der Ritt war auch wirklich toll und wir sind viel zu früh angekommen obwohl wir richtig langsam gegangen sind. DIe Pferde haben ihre Sache ziemlich gut gemacht, wobei das Pferd von meiner Mutter einmal unerwartet gesprungen ist.

Insgesamt ist unsere deutsche Austauschschülerin 1. in beiden Kategorien (einmal Reiter, einmal Pferd) weil sie die einzige Jugendliche ist; sie hätte auch einen guten Platz bekommen, auch wenn sie mit den Erwachsenern geritten wäre. Meine Mutter ist 5. geworden, und ich 6. und 4. Insgesamt sind wir fast 65km geritten--und wir waren die Kurzstreckler. Die anderen machen fast 80km. Durchschnittsalter ist wahrscheinlich 45 oder 50, und es sind einige mit 65 geritten. Das ist ja keine langweilige Rente....

Die Amerikaner sind sehr verschieden und unterscheiden sich sehr von den Deutschen. Ich finde, dass fremde Amerikaner viel offener sind als Deutsche. Es ist alles per du, fast immer. Es wurde viele Witze gemacht, viel gelacht, viel erzählt. Viele Leute haben uns gefragt, ob wir Hilfe bräuchten, ob wir Fragen hätten, ob sie uns was geben könnten. Leuten werden grundsätzlich zugewunken, auch wenn du die nicht kennst. Die Fahrradfahrer, die für uns auf dem Trail anhalten mussten, waren alle freundlich, haben alle ein bisschen mit uns geredet und uns einen schönen Tag gewünscht. Es kann manchmal übertrieben werden, aber die offensichtliche Freundlichkeit ist mir erfrischend.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Eindrücke eines fremden Landes

Um meine mühsam erworbene Sprachkenntnisse nicht verloren gehen zu lassen, werde ich (hoffentlich) regelmäßig auf Deutsch schreiben. Das bringt drei meiner vier Leser nicht besonders viel, da sie kein Deutsch können, aber ich erhoffe mir, dass einige meiner Freunde aus dem deutschsprachigen Raum die Augen hierhin richten.

Eigentlich komme ich aus diesem Land, hier bin ich geboren und aufgewachsen. Wie kann es mir denn fremd vorkommen? Culture Shock existiert, anscheinend in beiden Richtungen. Zunächst war ich erstaunt, wie verdammt groß alles ist. Ich werde es nicht übertreiben und mich über die Konsum-Kultur auslassen, sondern einfach bemerken, dass hier ein kleines Auto eher die halbe Autobahn blockiert hätte. Solche große Straßen gibt es hier auch, sie heißen Interstate Highways und sind leider nicht so höflich befahren wie in Deutschland.

Die Gegend, wo ich aufgewachsen bin ist, wie oft platt bezeichnet, ein ,,Dorf in den Bergen". Für diejenigen, die noch nie in den USA waren, oder die nie im Westen waren, ist das Konzept von ,,Dorf" um wesentlich unterschiedlich von das der Deutschen. Es gibt eine lange, breite Straße, die von der Hauptstadt ca. 20 Meilen (30 km) Richtung Nirgendwo fährt, und von dieser Straße fahren Landstraßen jeweils mit 5 bis 40 Häusern. Eine halbe Stunde zu fahren gilt als immer noch im Dorf, wobei man die Vororte von der Stadt in der Zeit auch erreichen kann. Die Stadt an such, ohne Vororte, hat 550,000 Einwohner, und mit Vororten über 2 Millionen. Unser ,,Dorf" hat fast 25,000, jedoch sind sie auf einer großen Fläche verteilt. Die Häuser befinden sich im Wald und sind nicht immer von der Straße aus zu sehen. Hier und dort an der Hauptstraße entlang sind einige Einkaufszentren, mit jeweils ein Supermarkt (wie Migros, Famila, Real), einige Restaurante und kleine Läden, und eine Tanke. Ein lokales Verkehrsnetz gibt es nicht; man kann mit dem Bus in die Stadt und zurück fahren, aber nicht innerhalb des Dorfes.

Das Haus, in dem meine Familie seit 1999 gewoht hat (und auf dem Grundstück seit 1984) ist immer noch wie vorher. Es ist eindeutig zu groß für zwei Leute; früher wohnte bis zu vier oder fünf, je mit eigenem Zimmer. Für Stadtverhältnisse ist es sehr groß, wobei das Haus im Vergleich zu anderen hier (und vor allem im Vergleich zu der Nachbarschaft von Villen, die neben uns gebaut wurde) ist sie sogar kleiner. Mein Vater ist Hobbygeigebauer und -gitarrenbauer und das heißt, dass Instrumente aller Art überall sind und es gibt fast kein Zimmer wo nicht mindestens eine Gitarre steht. In dem Zimmer, wo ich mich jetzt befinde, sind es vier. Meine Mutter hat auch Pferde, und wir sind unverkennbar als ,,Pferdefamilie" zu bezeichnen, denn es liegen Trenzen, Sattel-Teile und Lederstücke überall. Ich freue mich, wieder eine große Küche zu haben, und der Kühlschrank ist größer als ich und man kann direkt von ihm Wasser oder Eiswürfel bekommen. Die Fenster haben Netze drin, damit die Insekten fernbleiben--allerdings gibt es hier keine Insekten, nur gelegentlich Ameisen oder Motten. Grundsätzlich sind alle Fenster auf, die Türen sind nie abgeschlossen und die Autos auch nicht. Nachtsüber wird es ca 5 oder 8 Grad, tagsüber manchmal 28 Grad. Jeden Nachmittag kommt Gewitter, mit viel Blitz, viel Donner, und manchmal sogar starken Regen. Vor zwei Tagen ist ein Läufer gestorben, weil er vom Blitz getroffen wurde. Aufpassen.

Wenn man einkaufen geht, fragen alle Mitarbeiter des Supermarkts, wie es mir geht. Mindest vier oder fünf Leute, was ich etwas unheimlich finde aber, im Vergleich zu den Aldikassierinnen, eigentlich bevor ziehe. Einkaufen ist wie in der Schweiz, gute Qualität aber teuer. Sie haben, in dem Jahr wo ich weg war, einen neuen Supermarkt gebaut als eine misslungene Kombination vom Supermarkt, Mensa, und Starbucks. Alles auf einmal, heißt das....

Friday, July 27, 2007

Well, I made it, I guess

Well, I made it, after fourteen hours of travel, a minor dispute with the ticket counter, two wonderful weeks interspersed with traumatic farewells from family, friends, friends who have become family, and loved ones: after one year of travel, I am back in the burnished gold land I have called home for 19 of my (almost) 21 years.

The only part that disturbs me about flying overseas is the sheer duration; the concept of nine hours sitting a chair is not an appealing prospect. I like airports; despite the level of average weariness being collectively double that of the normal population, an airport provides an interesting cross-section of people from all over the world, speaking all manner of languages, and going to or returning from all manner of destinations. I read flights for Prague and Rio, for Hong Kong and Dubai, and I wish for a moment I were going there.

Being back is not necessarily the same as being home; home is where I feel most comfortable, and to some extent, the version of the house in which I grew up will always be home, but I don't live here anymore. The apartments and rooms I have inhabited and will inhabit have been and are also home, and that reason I found the gradual dissolution of my shared flat to be rather traumatic. Here, pieces of my childhood are jumbled and strewn about, and each unconscious rearrangement seems starkly portrayed against the static picture in my head. Larger changes (newer and wider roads, a new shopping center) mark the inevitable development of my formerly secluded little area. The city is coming.

The last couple of weeks have been rather traumatic. Wonderful at the same time, they have been filled with all the things I love to do in Freiburg: dinners with friends; running in the woods; bike tours and hiking; picknicking on the grass next to the river; dancing and partying; eating gelato; meeting friends for coffee, ice cream, or lunch; enjoying live music and sports, festivals and events.... but in these last few weeks I have had to say goodbye to a lot of people, and that's hard. I know your true friends never leave you, and even a lot of your very good acquaintances can hang around if you give it effort. Yet I am aware that my life cannot continue as it has, and that makes me sad.

The last weekend went by in a blur. My sister came down from Berlin and helped me out by driving my possessions and former possessions around FR to their new homes, by keeping me company and helping me with the party. I'm not the world's biggest party person, and considering the level of stress I had about getting out of town, the last thing I really wanted to do was plan a party, but thankfully my roommate and my guests stepped up and allowed us to have a wicked evening without too extensive a cleanup. I am glad so many people came to say goodbye, and I missed several of my good friends who were out of town or couldn't make it. I didn't know I knew so many people; I guess I qualify as pretty well integrated.

After an 8-hour drive on too little sleep, three people, lots of luggage, and a small car we arrived in Berlin. This small hiatus from life, this little purgatory allowed to regain some of my sanity and spend some quality time with Sister and Boyfriend and my other family. We spent one day in town on foot, one on bikes, saw the new Harry Potter film and the family's new place, went rowing, ate breakfast in the garden and running in the woods. It was exactly what I needed.

We intended to drop Boyfriend off at the station for the earlier of the two possible trains, but our hug goodbye was a bit too lingering and he missed the train.

It looks like spring and
It feels like sunny weather
But it's a cold day in July

Your bags are packed, not a word is spoken
I guess we said everything with good-bye
Time moves so slow and promises get broken
On this cold day in July

Sun's comin' up comin' up down on Main Street
Children shout as they're running out to play
Head in my hands
Here I am
Standing in my bare feet
Watching you drive away
Watching you drive away
- Cold Day in July - Dixie Chicks


So, here I am in a minor deja vu. I'll have some challenges and some hard times to get through but I will make it by, and if I am lucky I will be just as sad about leaving Boulder next spring as I am about leaving Freiburg. The new chapter begins, I suppose..... But despite the fact that it's 11:39 AM in Germany, the local time is 3:19, so I suppose I should get some sleep....

Sunday, July 08, 2007

What *is* that thing??

I went shopping yesterday. More precisely, I fought my way through the hordes of retiree tourists, Japanese, and old women to buy fruit and vegetables at the market, trying to keep the inevitable sausage-eaters from staining my white blouse (these people buy a sausage and then remain standing in the middle of the path, and then act surprised and drip katchup on you if you try to get through). Yes, it is twice as expensive as our local discounter, but if I have the choice between an unsprayed, fresh salad from someone's garden and some vacuum-packed thing from Aldi, I'll take the former. And it's cherry season, so you can buy a pound of cherries for about two dollars, which I did, along with a kilo of tomatoes and two apricots, packing my purchases into my backpack.

I ate the apricots (mmmmmm) and met a friend for lunch, and we looked for jeans for her, got ice cream, and went grocery shopping. In Germany, you pay for your plastic bag, which is doubly irritating as you probably have fifteen bags at home (for which you have paid) if you have to buy a new one. I, however, have a backpack, and I manage to just fit everything but the salad and the four pounds of apples I bought. One would be astounded how much is possible to transport by bicycle--I've seen everything from carpets to computers--and it is usual for me to ride home from the store with bags dangling from my handlebars.

As I am mostly home and am locking up my bike, I notice that my back is moist, the lower part where my jeans meet my blouse. Moist, moist....ok, something must have leaked. I bought a yoghurt, that could be it. That would really be a mess. I, hunched over to hopefully avoid dripping whatever it is everythere, stumble up the stairs to my apartment and unload my groceries.

The part where I had gone to the market and bought cherries is the part I had forgotten while packing my kilos of carrots and nectarines in my backpack, and my produce managed to press my formerly gorgeous little cherries, and it was cherry juice that was leaking. Scheiße.

I can handle this, I think, and take off my (formerly) white blouse to soak (it now has red streaks on the back), clean up the backpack, change my shirt.... and notice the huge purple blotch on my lower back, ending in a tidy line where my jeans were. It looks like I'd been beaten severely...by cherries!

Friday, July 06, 2007

On continue...

So, so, so, the good times don't end here...

18. During the course of a Tchoukball match, the players dive to try and catch the ball and thus prevent the other team scoring. We're sitting and watching, and a player from the British team unluckily named Tubby (now imagine this spoken with a French accent by our fantastic announcer) leaps to catch the ball--and disappears over the retaining wall. He'd jumped clear out of the stadium (itself consisting of advertsing panels about waist-high holding in the sand), got caught in the netting and landed on the sidewalk amid some very surprised passerby. It took awhile to get him out and he was miraculously unhurt, just walking a bit slowly at first. He continued to play as well. Later on in the game, leaping to catch another ball, he ended up falling out of the stadium (again) into the dugout, using one of the players' girlfriends seated there to break his fall. Now if only the team could match his 2-0 score.

19. I had to leave my lovely room to move to the dorm, which was dark and a bit stuffy, so I opened all the windows and sat at the table to read a bit. A couple of small sparrows worked their way up to the sill...and flew into the room! This happened on several occasions, that they wandered around on the floor, pecking at crumbs, heading for the table. Brave little bastards. I actually saw one letting itself be petted in exchange for bread crumbs in a sandwich joint. Do NOT feed the wildlife :)

20. The train ride from Basel, Switzerland, to where I live takes about an hour and requires passing the border (duh). So I had my passport. Upon boarding the train in Basel, I was followed by two armed guards. A minute and a half later, three armed policemen in different uniforms boarded, followed by two train conductors and three other official people, in 2 or 3 minute intervals. Nevertheless, for my entire stay and travel in 3 countries, no one ever asked for my passport.

21. I went to France. To visit a friend. In the rain. We went for a hike, though, which was fabulous, going up to an old cloister back in the woods. What do nuns eat in the middle of nowhere? We bought cheese and carrots and fruit and bread for our picnic lunch, sitting under a tree. The weather started out fabulous, and by the time I had made it through my bread the clouds had opened up. I almost kept looking around to see if I had mistaken Noah's Ark for a sailboat.

22. My room in Annecy in the hostel had a loft. It was pretty sweet, even if I couldn't stand up in most of it. Reached by a narrow staircase and lighted by a skylight, I managed to have the upstairs to myself while my lovely snoring roommates occupied the lower portion.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Mes vacances à Genève



Let me preface my story, as fractured as it is, by saying that I packed incorrectly. Usually, I travel light. Somehow, however, I managed to fill up my huge backpack with 2 Kg of apples (approximately 4 and a half pounds), books, running gear, one pair of pants, one sweater, one pair of shorts, and one skirt. Somehow this quantity of stuff filled the whole thing, was huge and cumbersome and strangely heavy. And incorrect; instead of the pair of comfortable loafers I should have brought hipwaders; instead of the sweater and raincoat I should have brought foul-weather sailing gear à la America's Cup (which Switzerland just won, by the way). Not to impunge the honor of my trusty raincoat; it actually held up perfectly well under several utter downpours. The stuff in the pockets did not, I repeat, did not get wet. My shoes and my single and reduntantly solitary pair of jeans, however, were not encased in raincoat and were only cursorialy protected by the waste of plastic which is my pathetic excuse for an umbrella, whose flimsy supporting rods make it look somwhat of an injured yellow bird with the water resistant qualities of a leaky bucket.

You may extrapolate from this that it rained on my trip. It did. Quite a bit, but only three days, and not the entirety of three days. There was quite a bit of sunshine and it was quite enjoyable, I just haven't been properly dry since saturday.

With no further ado, I present to you the mixed-up snippets of tripness, in no particular order and with no promise of relevance whatsoever:

1. Bookstores are good places to hide when it rains, particularly ones with CDs to listen to.

2. Breakfast on the train is fantastic; there is nothing better than enjoying fresh rolls, strawberry cream cheese and a newspaper when you're on the road.


Tchoukball at Geneva Beach 2007

3. There is such a thing as Tchoukball. It is sort of a cross between volleyball, lacrosse, basketball, and....other stuff. It has five players on a team, and involves bouncing a ball off of a net, and depending on whether the other team catches the rebound, you score a point. I spent two entire evenings watching this, watching the Taiwanese cream the Swiss and the canadians. I had to move once, though, because I was sitting in the Taiwanese cheering section, and the cheerleaders (players from the women's team cheering on the men) left me deaf on the left side. The ref, standing directly in front of them, wasn't too thrilled either.

4. Do not try to be smarter than the train company, especially if you're me and try to be clever. Me trying to be clever left me sitting in Basel for two hours until I could take the correct train. Es lebe die Deutsche Bahn.


Le Festival du Jazz

5. The jazz festival au Parc de Croppettes was really cool, even if it took forever to find. A row of bands played, including one with two fantastic duelling tap dancers á la Fred Astaire (even did a number with a cane!



6. My (very white) room shared with a Japonese ballet dancer had an incredible view of the harbor. I think my french may have been better than hers, and she's lived there a year and a half. I had to move later, though, to something more approximating a dungeon to compensate for the fortituousness I received here...

7. I am spoiled by German bike routes, where everything is signed and marked and there are lots of paths through fields and woods. Geneva has bike paths, I think four different routes, which are mostly nonexistent, or pointing in the wrong direction. I stopped to look at the map, for the fiftieth time. Except I didn't really have a map, just a general sketch of where the towns were. The route was supposed to be marked, but...wasn't. Sporadically. I wanted a bike tour, not a scavenger hunt...



8. The contemporary art museum is housed in an old factory, and has very strange installation exhibitions. No, we don't want your jackson pollock, just give us a ping pong table out of concrete that's built crooked...

9. Next to the University there is a park where you can play chess and checkers. The pieces go up to your knee.

10. I managed to mistake the WTO for a library. I kept not understanding why the words WTO were stencilled on the doors.

11. The HEI administrative building is housed in a former villa. The institute is located in a park on the shore, up near the UN buildigns. THe Leage of Nations tried to buy up all of the parks (there are four or five private estates with villas which are now parks) but one widow refused to sell. So, the City of Geneva offered to swap the LoN property for the Ariana park, where the UN is now located, and the former grounds are now parks. The villas house museums or Institute administrative buildings.

12. I visited the United Naitons. I tried to go in the delegate's entrance. They didn't let me. "Oú est-ce que vous voulez? C'est l'entrée pour les delegués" Ups... Across from the UN is....a giant chair...which is missing a leg. The symbolism is beyond me.

13. Walking at night, alone and female, didn't bother me. Except everywhere I went, the guys sitting on benches: "Bonsoir madame, ca va? Ca va bien?" followed by some stupid comment when I wouldn't answer.

14. But sitting on a park bench seems to be an invitation.... twice in one day I had someone sit down and start talking to me, eventually inviting me out for the evening. The first guy was Turkish, with quite good French (much better than mine, but I got by). His opening line: "Il fait beau aujourd'hui", and my stunningly clever response: "ah, oui, ca va. Euh, c'est meilleur que la semaine dernière...." Cool, weather talk. Fun. The second guy was from the Gambia (they speak English. He speaks English, Spanish, French, and whatever language he spoke to someone on the phone in) who asked me for a cigarette, than later says he doesn't smoke and just used that as a tactic to talk to me. Do I exude some sort of "please talk to me! I am desperately lonels!" scent? And I lied to any personal questions; in the span of several minutes I managed to create a separate false identity for myself. Usually I say I'm German, my name is Kati, and I'm meeting friends later.



15. While checking my email at the university, a guy in his forties comes up to me and starts talking to me, which turns out to be an entire speech on love, bread, and happiness based on the pretext of asking me a question (which he never did). He spoke decent German, so I got to have a Brot oder Liebe tirade until my ears turned blue and my smile fixed to my face as if glued by a four year old (sloppily, and only a matter of time till it falls off). Why me??

16. I spent a rather restless train ride from Basel to Freiburg. I passed on the first compartment cause it smelled funny, moved into the second where I was stuck with a really irritating older couple, one who states the obvious and ends every sentence with "gel?", a regional accent which just gets on my nerves. So I go back to the first compartment, sit down, and realize that the reason it smelled funny was because it was the smoking section, so I move into the second compartment, having forgotten why I left. The old woman spent the entirety of the ride plaguing her husband with inane comments in a desperate attempt at communication, leaving her fending off her fifteenth inquiry as to their arrival with the resignation of a tired traveller on a well-worn road. "Do you have the tickets" Yes, I have them. Pause. "Well, when do we get there?" At 9 55, like I told you. "oh." Silence. "You know what I find interesting?" No. "The clouds there, how they are light and dark" Mmmhh. "But you know, not really dark. What do you think?" They're clouds. "But they're dark! They're different!" (AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!)



17. Le pain, le pain, le pain non plus : My meals consisted almost invariably out of bread, yoghurt, raw carrotes, a zucchini, and perhaps a bit of cheese or an apple. Yummy, yes, but after four days I was desperate for anything cooked, anything hot, and anything that wasn't any of the above. The bread was good, yes, and better in France, but after your eighth meal of white bread and some kind of cheese (or even dry) you start dreaming of alternatives.