The Spill

Epic failures and successes

2011-03-08T20:34:00.000-08:00

GOD. I'm going to fail my online Health class, the easiest, most convenient class in the world. It's pretty much set in stone by now. I missed two tests, basically because they're due at 4 p.m., when I am inevitably busy at work, not thinking about them, with my deadline blinders securely in place, doggedly plodding toward the finish. Then I come home and realize with a chill that I have missed another test or assignment, like discovering a dead pet hamster I forgot to feed.

I've come to the conclusion that I don't want to, more like can't, have two pursuits going at once. Work and school have never really gone well together for me. Work takes over. I come home and feel justified in not getting any schoolwork done, because I have been at work; writing, maxing out my brain, making money. School is fast losing its luster.

On another note, AAAAD on Friday went nicely, with a solid turnout that never made the space too crowded, good folk music, and high-quality art. Next month is a solo show by Russ Pope, an awesome artist who draws really cool bulbous heads and who, whaddya know, is already blogging about the cool shit he is building for the show.

Pics to come. Maybe. I shouldn't make so many promises.

Slip and slide

2011-02-25T23:47:00.000-08:00

Oh, my brain is a surging inbox, full of mental notes that got misfiled. My mouth is an open window on a blustery day.

This blog was born in Germany in the wake of New Year's 2010, when I realized I needed to be writing more often, chronicling my adventures abroad in an accessible way before they were gone. It was hard at first, but soon I began seeing every situation as potential material. My roommate's neurotic notes, my loneliness, non-refrigerated milk products, my grand shopping cart theft, Mirjam and her crazy dancing, Micha, Berlin in late spring, Erich's nudie park, and soon my broken heart at having to leave.

Berlin street art

After getting a writing job back in the States, though, my need to write was satiated in other forms, and my blog dried up. This is my second attempt to bring it back-and my first post of the New Year, 2011. But what have I done since the last promise to be more faithful to my blog and my loyal followers twelve? How do I collapse it all into one redeeming post?

Let's try it:

December

Spent 48 hours in the same house as my family. Longed for mulled wine.

January

Went to the Symphony for New Year's.

Phone-interviewed Lily Tomlin.

Wrote a cover story on Santa Barbara photographer Santi Visalli.

February

Took over monthly art happening Art After Art After Dark (explanation: an art happening that happens after the art walk Art After Dark). Themed the dentally inspired show "Word of Mouth" and donated the proceeds to a friend who had recently knocked out some teeth.

Word of Mouth

Went with Chase to the Santa Barbara Int'l Film Festival...and stayed at Santi Visalli's place.

Went to the launch party of the book The Tribes of Burning Man in San Francisco.

Wrote a news story about the ethics of sex robots.

Decided next month's Art After Art After Dark theme is Food and Frustration.

Food and Frustration

...and that leaves us with now.

I slipped into the slide of not blogging, and the more I slid, the more lubricated the slide became. Which is a shame, since I know my absurd, vaguely uncomfortable mixed metaphors have been sorely missed.

Ablogagies

2010-12-22T17:47:00.000-08:00

Dear blog,

I am so sorry to have been ignoring you. I feel so bad. I cannot even look into your big bloggy eyes anymore. Oh, come on. Quit looking at me like that! I've just been under an avalanche of work and had an earthquake of life changes, that's all. Mommy still loves you!

Funny how, when nothing's going on, I have plenty of time to tell you all about it. You know I'm having real adventures when you hear absolutely nothing from me.

Well, the good news is, I look forward to reviving you soon. This time, I hope to strike the right balance of leisure and adventure.

I love you.

Quit looking at me like that.

-Anna

So f&%#!ing busy

2010-10-23T13:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Spill,

I am so sorry to have been ignoring you. I have been pouring every single iota of human effort into staying alive, making deadlines at my new job (yes, it's going great, thanks), not allowing the ol' account to dip into the red zone as I wait for that first full paycheck, moving in (pictures soon, I promise!) and passing World Politics and (boredom central) Microeconomics. It seems like every day there's some new crisis to be averted, something I forgot at work, a new bill to pay, a debt I didn't know I had, a call I forgot to return.

I can't wait to be finished with school. It is such a drag, and all it does is get in the way. Oh, and a certain someone is coming from Germany for a month but I don't have any time, so I guess he'll have to entertain himself until Thanksgiving break.

Even with all of this, I am SO, SO grateful for my beautiful apartment, so happy to have my Arts Editor job, and even though I am really poor now I am so extremely glad I went to Germany for a year, if only to have danced until morning properly, met Mirjam and Erich and Micha, read Kafka in the original language, to have lived in a house with a Klingel, reveled in the joys of public transport, divided my waste into like 15 different receptacles, experienced the madness, the agony, and the ecstasy that is World Cup fever, and shocked the socks off a lot of middle-aged women in the German Hygiene Museum by saying I got up at 9 most mornings.

But yeah, sorry I'm so out of touch these days. Here, keep yourself busy with a New Times.

Love,

Anna

Housed, for real this time

2010-09-28T21:43:00.000-07:00

I have good news to impart: I got that apartment! What apartment? You know, that one, the dream one, the one! (I don't tell you guys about things I am hoping for anymore until after they're finalized, otherwise things get jinxed and nothing works out and my blog becomes a sort of memorial to my failures.) I can't tell you exactly where the new apartment is because it's so ridiculously public, being right above a shop downtown.

...Just know that when you're strolling through the city center, I am above you, watching, wondering why it doesn't occur to anyone to look up. When you are going out for a cup of coffee I am soaking in the tub several feet above and to the left of you. And when you are bar-hopping, your drunken cries will shape the plot of my dreams. That's all!

And it's gorgeous too. Don't think I mentioned that. Pics to come. Obviously!

Eviction party!

2010-09-15T00:50:00.000-07:00

Back to square one!! Anyone want to rent to a hard-working, book-reading, fridge-cleaning, VCR-rewinding, gin-drinking writer/insomniac/German enthusiast with excellently bad taste? Here I am.

Yep, it's official. I was just nicely asked to leave, to accommodate landlady's niece with boyfriend "drama." So much for putting down roots, so much for decorating, cleaning the fridge, acquiring household investment pieces, so much for picking out succulents. So much for the effort that went into looking for a home, the endless meeting of people and being nice, so much for moving my cheap folding furniture in a Radio Flyer wagon and having everyone honk at me. I'm back on the mean streets. So if you have a hot housing tip, let me know.

P.S. !!!***Act now and I will throw in some FREE espresso snobbery at no extra charge***!!! AMAZING OFFER WON'T LAST CALL NOW

...Or have I been reading too many Craigslist postings lately?

Eviction waffles

2010-09-14T02:51:00.000-07:00

Did I really type the words "now that I am on top of everything...?" Was that really yesterday? Well, I obviously was missing some information, such as:

Thing 1

My roommate's sister is having boyfriend drama, therefore I might get evicted. WHAT? Well, my roommate Essie's sister Ginny used to live in the room I currently rent. (She's the one who left the pile-o-shit in front of my entrance.) She moved out to live with her boyfriend. Things aren't going too well with the bf, so now she wants to move back in. Key piece of info: Essie and Ginny's aunt is our landlady. To make things worse, my stay in this room is made bearable only by the fact that the room is slated to receive a professional makeover this Friday. But now that I am on eviction standby, I have been advised not to make any changes to the room.

To complicate things further, I have friends coming into town from Washington, D.C. the weekend after scheduled room makeover. I was counting on having a nice, inviting place by then, but it looks like it's just going to stay the stinkhole room that it is, with the rank ashtray-smelling carpet laid over cement and the giant holes/stains gracing the walls.

Not to mention I just cleaned the fridge, swept, mopped, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom, dusted, made the windows see-through again, took the towels to the laund-o, scraped the caked-on food from the stove top and scrubbed the soap scum and rust from the shower. (I did all of this before school in the morning or after work at night.) Just trying to pitch in. What was the damn point in that then?

To make matters worse, I received this alarming information via text message as I was on my way to class and my battery was dying, so there was no way to call Essie and actually talk about it. I was intending to just speak to her at the house before work but then...

Thing 2

When I stopped off at work on the way home from school to get some coffee, I was informed that my coworker for the night (currently in Australia) didn't get his last shift covered. There was no one to work the shift with me. It was starting in an hour and I was working it...alone. What's worse, it wasn't just any shift which I might have been able to handle; it was Waffle Night, which is by far the most demanding and, in my opinion, needs three workers at least. I spent my free hour making calls from the work phone and trying to get someone to help me. I got a lot of "Ohh, I can do 7 to 9.30..." but no one would work the full shift with me at such short notice. Guess who filled in? My sister, Heather!

Did I mention my sister just got hired at Linnaea's?? I mean literally just got hired days before? She had not done any training but since she and I have been working in coffee shops together since the dawn of time, we figured we would wing it, and we did.

By the way, usually trainees start by doing a half shift at a slow time, like Sunday afternoon, and someone takes them by the hand and guides them through everything and makes it nice for them, saying, "Now this is called 'espresso.'"

Well, that's not exactly the initiation Heather got. Linnaea's on Waffle Night is scary. However, we pulled through, served a million damn customized waffles, and were out of there before 1 a.m., which is better than the trained employees sometimes do.

There was no time for dinner that night and since my sister is allergic to wheat and couldn't even nibble on waffles, I felt awful and took her to Mexican afterwards.

So then it was after 1 a.m. when I got home, so no chance to have a chat with the roomies tonight re: looming threat of eviction. Tomorrow maybe, if I get a free moment. I am scheduled to work tomorrow with nobody again, so that will be an adventure.

Only sustaining thoughts:

5 more shifts until no more shift work. And no more food service. Ever. I LOVE Linnaea's but...
San Louie liked my child leash article; Ashley said it was "genius" and she "couldn't be more honored" to print it in her magazine. That was nice.

...just the Spill

2010-09-12T01:09:00.000-07:00

Back in New York, I accidentally poured coffee on my new vintage* pants, and an idea was born. When I yelped in double unhappiness (stain + hot coffee on self), Rochelle asked, "What's wrong?" And I grumbled, "Nothing, just the &^$%?!ing daily spill." Something about that resonated with me. The Daily Spill. The Daily Spill, with your host, Anna Weltner. I commented that it would make a good blog name. I had just moved back from Germany and I was thinking of changing up my blog anyway to reflect the changes I was experiencing.

I kept this in mind, but soon got distracted with work, house-hunting, writing, and school. But now I am on top of everything again, and my life is taking yet another turn with my new Arts Editor gig, so the time is right! But I can't be the daily spill because then you guys would have to read my scribbles every day, and what's worse, I'd have to scribble them every day! So I am just the Spill. Welcome to the Spill! Now back to you in the studio.

Author's notes:

'New vintage' is not an oxymoron, it refers to the newly acquired vintage slacks I spilled on.
The stain came out in the wash.

Breaking news

2010-09-11T11:38:00.000-07:00

Last post, I hinted vaguely that something incredible had happened. Well, it has: I got the job!!
What job? Häää?
Well, I didn't go on and on about it this time, afraid too much hot air would blow the delicate possibility away, or like the Establishment saga, that I would update everyone on the application process and then have them asking me about it later when it didn't get in. (But applying at the Estab is kinda like running for President; you sort of have to let everyone know about it to run a successful campaign.)
Another reason was related to my current job. Everyone I hang out with is connected to Linnaea's in some way, and if I were to mention that I was job-hunting, the news might get ahead of me.
So, I kept it largely quiet.
However, now that I have received a solid offer, I can share the good tidings with you:

I'm the new Arts Editor of New Times!
The full-time position entails writing arts features every week and editing the content of the Arts section as well as attending plays, concerts, art openings and mingling with the local arts community. I will be following in the footsteps of the great Ashley Schwellenbach, (now Managing Editor) and they are rather large steps.
Looks like I can't describe myself as an unemployed writer anymore.
I can't believe a few months ago I was posting this:

Sunday, May 9, 2010:

The lethargy and sense of despairing pointlessness I have recently been experiencing came to a head today...The work I do goes in the same category as the work I don't do: unnoticed.

I want a real job so bad it hurts, but I can't make that a reality. I want more than anything to work for a magazine. (I am hilariously bad at most things, but writing is not one of them.) But when and where do I get to use my talent?

Hot damn, that is depressing stuff. (Bear in mind I was an unnoticed, unpaid PR intern in Erfurt while every other expat journalist I knew seemed to be living it up in the city, owning the airwaves of Deutsche Welle or exposing scandals in the Catholic church over at SPIEGEL Online.)
Well, those days are over, folks. I'm a full time writer/editor now! Real job! No one can ~~stand~~ stop me now!

Left at the burned frat house....

2010-09-11T01:14:00.000-07:00

Okay, so IDPEM has been really busy lately. This post has been in drafts since the day I moved in. Inappropriately, this writer, blogger and late-night streamer of Firefly moved into a house sans internet. WHAT? I know. This post was drafted by stealing the City-County Library's WiFi while draining the last of my Eeee!! PC's finite battery supply while waiting at the bus stop. Ghetto. This is as far as I got before I had to board the 12A Northbound:

I've moved in today!! Freedom!

I don't have much these days.

Veggie garden, complete with Technicolor zebra.

View from the front.

The burned-out former frat house on the corner serves as an amusing and accurate landmark.

The place is cute and in a good neighborhood, but until I put forth some serious decorative efforts in my renovated-garage bedroom, I am going to be super depressed every time I walk in there. The carpet, which is really foul and reeks of cigarettes, is laid over concrete. The walls have curiosity-arousing stains, and my sweet private entrance is sort of spoiled by the last tenant's large pile of crap, which is apparently our (roomies Essie, Taylor and my) responsibility to sell/give away/make disappear.

I am ripping up the carpet next weekend, painting, and doing something frightfully clever with fabric on the walls (to make up for not being trusted to paint fun colors). This weekend I am getting a pile of soil and some plants and doing a bit of small-scale landscaping in an attempt to prettify the dry, empty ditch separating my entrance from the pile-o-shit that is not mine.

Despite these sort of forced projects to bring my living standards up to normal, it is SO wonderful to live in the downtown area. Even when I wake up in my smelly room on my mattress that someone probably expired on I am happy to be with minutes of cafes, shops, grocery stores...other people...

My life has been packed, with work every day, two exams, an article deadline for San Louie magazine and moving. (Plus there's something incredible that's just happened, but that deserves it's own post.)

Life's intense!

In my bedroom, my sole oasis is a Dali painting complete with a sunset on a barren landscape, elephants with stilted legs, and lots of misplaced breasts. When I go in there I just try to keep my eyes fixed on that.

Best lists ever

2010-08-27T15:02:00.000-07:00

If you know me, you know I love lists. Lists make my life feel smooth and convenient. Little assembly lines. I think lists in literature and film can flow as beautifully as pearls on a string or be as shocking as finding a spoon, a dictionary, a bug and an engagement ring behind the refrigerator or as thought-provoking as thinking about their shared destinies, where they came from and how far they traveled, all little arrows shooting inevitably towards the common target of that crack between the fridge and the wall.

I love common, everyday lists, love ballpoint pens on paper, love crossing things out when they are completed. Even people who don't keep journals make lists, and these become their de facto daily records. Assuming the things they list are things to do or buy, the records quickly become obsolete. (In fact, they are made with the goal of obsolescence.)

My stepbrother once left a list on a post-it note in the bathroom. I don't recall exactly what was on the list, so just assume it was something along these lines:

1.buy this
2.do that
3.or whatever

The funny thing was, above No. 1 he had written "Go to potty" and then crossed that out, so it looked like this:

~~Go to potty~~
1.buy this
2.do that
3.or whatever

Then he left the list there, and it looked like that was the only thing he achieved that day. Finding this, I felt like an archeologist of the present. I wanted to frame it, with a little blurb explaining where I found it and my conjectures and postulations of this man's life based on the few records he left behind which I was able to unearth.

I have many of my own lists, happily on their way to fulfillment and obsolescence. (My language list, for example.)

I love the way people try to hide one certain thing in the middle of a list, like when a student at the international school where I worked in the Swiss alps had to phone her dad to request "peanutbuttertamponsandcandy."

What? Peanut butter tampons? "No. Three separate things. Peanutbuttertamponsandcandy."

Or in Anne of Green Gables when Mathew Cuthbert goes to the general store to purchase Anne a dress with puff sleeves, and tries to pass this off as normal by ordering several pounds of brown sugar, a rake (in the dead of Canadian winter) and, oh yeah, one dress with puff sleeves, please.

But I digress. Where was I? The best lists ever.

The best lists ever, or at least the best lists of recent memory:

3. The White Stripes' "Rag and Bone" (from the 2007 album Icky Thump)

Keep going, we're not tired.
Got plenty of places to go, lots of homes we ain't been to yet.
West side, southwest side, middle-east, rich house, dog house, outhouse, old folks house, house for unwed mothers, halfway homes, catacombs, twilight zones.
Looking for techniques, turntables to gramophones.
So take a last lick of your ice cream cone.
And lock up what you still want to own.

2. John Hodge, Trainspotting

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars,
compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good
health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed
interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your
friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a
three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing
game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose
rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable
home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up
brats you spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose life.

1. The 2003 film Jeux d'enfants (Love me if you dare)

Sophie was back in the game! Pure, raw, explosive pleasure! Better than drugs, better than smack! Better than a dope-coke-crack-fix-shit-shoot-sniff-ganja-marijuana-blotter-acid-ecstasy! Better than sex, head, 69, orgies, masturbation, tantrism, Kama Sutra or Thai doggy-style! Better than banana milkshakes! Better than George Lucas's trilogy, the muppets and 2001! Better than Emma Peel, Marilyn, Lara Croft and Cindy Crawford's beauty mark! Better than the B-side to Abbey Road, Jimmy Hendrix and the first man on the moon! Space Mountain, Santa Claus, Bill Gates' fortune, the Dalai Lama, Lazarus raised from the dead! Schwarzenegger's testosterone shots, Pam Anderson's lips! Woodstock, raves... Better than Sade, Rimbaud, Morrison and Castaneda! Better than freedom, better than life!

* * *

4 Walls and 1 roof

2010-08-27T02:01:00.000-07:00

That's right, I've got a place now. No more tenting, no more sharing beds with relatives, no more floor. No more thirty-minute bike rides at 1 a.m., after work. (I might miss those though, they are great for exercise, as well as reflection.)
I have been working too much, covering every shift I can. Need to pay that rent!
The new place is cute, small and artistic and is inhabited by two other nice roommates. Private entrance, vegetable garden, close to several cafes but hidden from the street...ahhh. Pictures coming soon.
In other news, I have a post in drafts about favorite lists in literature, film and in life, but I worry it has taken a turn for the offensive. Surprisingly! Maybe I'll post it. Maybe not!

Housing heartbreak

2010-08-20T20:01:00.000-07:00

Oh God. I did not get into the Establishment. I can't handle the rejection! I am too sensitive! Shut up and go away, everyone. Actually that's rather preemptive- I haven't even told anyone yet because I'm not quite ready.
I tried to get in touch with my sister to talk about it but she exploded her laptop and flushed her phone down the toilet so I will have to wait until we bump into each other again.
Personal snub aside, the housing situation is getting really urgent. I had stopped looking because I was putting my energy into work, school and getting into the Establishment, but I really have to get my own place. I want nothing more than a room with a bed, where I can unpack my suitcase and sleep in the same place every night. Preferably non-moldy, non-infested and reasonably held together, which would set it apart from all other places I have afforded in this pricey town.
Oh San Luis, I love you but that doesn't mean I have to like you.

Coincidences (coincidae??)

2010-08-20T13:42:00.000-07:00

Last night I had planned to meet up with Janine, German au pair and good friend of Alena, with whom I spent loads of time in Berlin over the past year. She said some of her friends had unexpectedly come into town, and would I mind if three Swiss boys joined us? Would I mind?
The funny thing was, I was the first one to arrive at the meeting point (Jamba Juice). Then came a gaggle of sharply dressed dudes rolling their r's and slaughtering their ch's, and I thought, I wonder if that's them. They sat down at another table and I spent about a minute hesitating to go talk to them, thinking, what if this is some other Swiss-German-speaking trio? Then Janine showed up and introduced us, and everything was all right. They said they had also been considering the possibility that I was Janine with blonde hair, since they hadn't seen her in a while.
After that silliness, we proceeded to Farmer's Market, where I hadn't been for several years. After getting a bite to eat, the boys wanted to play billiards, so in the quest to find a place to play we headed towards Downtown Brew, but were soon distracted by Bubblegum Alley, famous for its collection of chewing gum.

This disgusting deviation from SLO's pretty-perfect streets was all very engrossing to the Swiss folk. (One of them even pondered making such a wall in his own house.) Talking about something as familiar to me as Bubblegum Alley while speaking German was one of the trippiest experiences.
As it turned out, the part of Downtown Brew where you can play pool was closed, so we went to Native Lounge, which is kind of a snotty place but does have a pool table. There was a man there with an alligator named Spike who was doing a fundraiser for a wildlife conservancy foundation. The alligator was the sweetest reptile I have ever met, and didn't seem to mind us petting him or picking him up.

After that I had to run, because I was due at an Establishment Awkward Family Dinner, which I had spent the afternoon making punch with Kelly for. Dinner wasn't actually that awkward, especially once the punch began to flow, although at least one person was naked.

* * *

Speaking of the Establishment, I have had my interview at the house. Some of the questions I received were:

How do you feel about nudity?
Describe the last conflict you had with someone and how you resolved it sucessfully.
What can you contribute to the house?
Why should we pick you over any other applicant?
Why do you blog?

Tonight, votes are due by 5 p.m. and tomorrow I will know if I am 'in' or not. Not unaware of this, I have been hanging out there an obscene amount, even staying until 2 a.m. one night playing Settlers of Catan.

Oh God, I need to get in. I have invested so much time and energy and hope...if I don't get in I will be scandalized. Absolutely scandalized!

Hello, August

2010-08-14T02:23:00.000-07:00

Wow! It's been a long time. Sorry! Ohmygoodness, how time flies when you're sleeping in a tent! I can't believe this is my first August post. In July I was all over the world and had little internet time, but I still managed to write the most posts per month I've done so far. Now I have all the internet in the world and no use for it, it seems.

News from my end?? Um...I am starting school on Monday. I'm writing a story for San Louie magazine about parents who walk their children on leashes, I miss my boyfriend like hell and I am making a general mess of my life.

I am applying to live in a cooperative called the Establishment where 19 people live, cook, party, garden and generally cohabit peacefully together. According to San Luis Obispo lore, it used to be a whorehouse, was once home to Jack Kerouac (and is referenced in The Dharma Bums) and it is...haunted. I have an interview there next Sunday. I'll let you guys know what happens.

Heimat

2010-07-31T15:27:00.000-07:00

Broad and High St.

Lincoln and Mountainview St.

I love this tradition of tying your gym shoes together and throwing them onto telephone wires. That's how you know school is out for summer in San Luis.

Nico sleeping on the porch.

The mission.

The fountain in front of the mission where I almost drowned as a kid! I can't walk by without thinking about that.

My first latte art in a year, poured at Linnaea's. I can do better though...just wait.

The creek where I like to read, unbothered. For hours on end. It's nice to be home- sort of!

Scarf wars

2010-07-27T13:04:00.000-07:00

Lieber Martin,

danke für den schönen Schal. Ich habe ihn stolz durch ganz New York getragen. Leider hat er meiner Freundin Rochelle so gut gefallen, dass sie furchtbar neidisch auf mich war (wie alle), und wir haben die ganze Woche nur über den Schal gestritten. Diesen Streit habe ich zwar gewonnen, aber wie du siehst hat es mir unsere Freundschaft gekostet. Also danke nochmal. Wirklich.

Liebe Gruesse,

Anna Marie

Anna and Rochelle's fight to the death

Achtung! Life under construction

2010-07-26T23:52:00.000-07:00

So, as I am no longer in Germany, my blog needs a new take on life other than that of a "penniless Californian exchange student." I guess I'll just cross out "exchange." Bing! Done.
I have been away from the fatherland for twelve days now (What? That's all??) and although I am always there in spirit, my spirit doesn't have internet access, so that's no good. I can't blog from Germany about dancing to electro, macking on my boy or having cultural/linguistic misunderstandings all while using charmingly incorrect phrasing (I will nerve them, it made fun, we telephoned, he was making Feierabend, the city was full of Amis) anymore! You may need to read that sentence again.
I am home now, and cannot live in Germany again for-at the most blindingly optimistic-one year. Although this horrifies me, I am trying to deal with it maturely and not begin all sentences with "when I was in Germany..." This is extremely difficult e~~specially considering last call is around 1:30 here, and everyone just seems to accept this~~.
I am also officially a full-time student as of today. I realized when I went to talk to the counselor that I am nearly finished with my silly AA degree. I have to take three more classes for a degree in Liberal Arts, and one more (World Politics) for an International Studies degree. Then I can go on to do much bigger, more expensive learning. Just hopefully not here, because I have decided I cannot afford American universities.
(Oh! Embarrassing thing of the day: When I got to my parents' this evening I told my stepmom I had signed up for "Astrology" to fulfill my science requirement.)
I am also employed, having got my job back at Linnaea's. I'm starting next week. I made my first cappuccino in a year the other day, because I went in to order one and they asked if I wanted to just make it myself. My hands were shaking as I pulled the shots and steamed the milk, afraid I wouldn't remember how to do it and everyone would judge me if I couldn't pull off a perfect rosetta (I'll have to post a picture of what I mean).
Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say, there are a few changes in the works. Stay tuned.

Back in California (cue the crickets...)

2010-07-24T17:10:00.000-07:00

After peacing out of New York, a short stay in San Francisco with this kook...

Coopie giving the death stare at a San Francisco park

...made it temporarily okay that I was not in Europe anymore. I've missed him!!

I am still living in denial about being back home. I cannot shake the impression that I am only here on vacation and will be going home to Germany. Not going to happen! I live in California I live in California I live in California. Ahhh, I still can't seem to swallow that.


San Francisco's Velo Rouge, hub of delicious pizza, espresso and levitating bicycles


View of the city from the park

Free, self-cleaning public bathroom
(pictured: Paul, Tiffany and Cooper)

A bridge (not the Golden one...)

I had forgotten about San Francisco's bipolar, sunny/freezing/sunny weather. In this city, summer seems to prefer certain areas and completely ignore others. Oh well. Big Sur was waiting, where my Grandma put me up for the night before I made my way further down the coast.

View from my Grandma's guest house, the Hawk's Nest


The windy, turn-y, cliff-y ride home this morning. I always have nightmares about falling over the side of one of those cliffs. Maybe you can't tell from here, but it's a long way down!!

Finally, at noon today, I arrived back in San Luis Obispo. My hometown. It's a strange homecoming, as my dad's side of the family is in Los Angeles at my cousin's wedding. So I am just sort of wandering the San Luis streets by myself, feeling like I am walking through a sunny, flowery dream. I have absolutely nothing to do but hang around. I am currently sitting on my sister's porch, accompanied only by this stinky beast:

"Pepper, I'm back!" "Feed me."

My sister is in town because she has to work, so when she gets off this evening we are going to go "out" together. (While I was gone, she had the audacity of turning 21 without me.)

Of course, going out in San Luis is silly because all the bars close at 2 a.m (which after Germany seems utterly ridiculous). So the bar scene is really intense, with everyone in a big rush to get hammied before last call.

Oh well, out here in California we have the house party to make up for it. Sort of.

Do I really live here?? Can I go back to Germany now??

Schlepping through SoHo

2010-07-18T18:12:00.000-07:00

Best parts of today:

Brunch at the Artisanal Fromagerie, highlighted on the Food Network's "The Best Thing I Ever Ate--Cheesy Episode." We broke our fast with gouda and stout fondue, blackberry and mango mimosas, crème brûlée and coffee.
(By the way, brunch is such a scandal! Why is it okay to roll out of bed, show up at eleven (thirty...), stuff your face with all of your favorite things about breakfast and lunch, drink alcohol in the morning and be treated like a queen? Fantastic all-American invention.)

A dragonfly alighted on Lady Liberty and then proceeded to catch and eat the head off of an inferior normal-fly, resulting in a nature shot which ought to be published in the Natty Graf.

The dragonfly's cute little face (the black is housefly leftovers).

Walking to SoHo, we admired the Flatiron Building.

Chris and Rochelle by the water

First glimpse of the real Statue of Liberty...

The dragonfly was that cute!! Look at him smiling for the camera.

Sundown by the water.

Nighty night, New York. I am beat from walking all over you.

Culture shock continues

2010-07-17T19:51:00.000-07:00

Coney Island with ChrisnRochelle, Erich, Fouad, and Jimmy today. What is this place?? Hahaha.

They are counting the seconds until they can gluttonize on hot dogs again.

Rochelle makes a difficult decision

Cooling her toes in the Atlantic

Said goodbye to Erich today!! No way. Now we have to wait until September to be ridiculous, dance to electro in the kitchen and have heart to hearts at six in the morning.

Learning to ♥ NY

2010-07-16T21:31:00.000-07:00

Really tall buildings. AC. Ice water. Free bathroom usage. Amis* on the streets, Amis in the U-Bahn,* Amis on the television. What a weird place!!

Drinking on the street isn't a thing, but you can see the calorie count of your muffin before entering the bakery. That's handy, to finally use this word correctly.*

I feel like a foreigner!! And not just because (as I've quickly realized) I associate all officialdom (hotels/the bank/police/service industry) with the German language and keep having to stop myself from talking to shop clerks, tellers, waiters and strangers in German.

ChrisnRochelle, first night in town!

Look at this nonsense. Funny that the number on the label is not the price.

Furry...?

What? Was macht der Kölner Dom auf Manhattan?

Eiffelturm, gleiche Frage.

Erich and Fouad, the ying and yang of coolness.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, great place to spend a humid afternoon.

Siren Music Festival on Coney Island tomorrow, I think. That will make fun.

Yeah.

Chin up.

I really just want to go back to Germany. Oh, how I miss you, love.

Author's Note:

Ami: slightly judgmental German nickname for "American"
U-Bahn: subway
In Germany, cell phones are called Handys, leading to the common German misconception that the word handy means cell phone in English.

Almost home

2010-07-16T07:29:00.000-07:00

Arrived in New York. First chance to post. Keep almost talking to strangers in German (Entschuldigen Sie...).

Fabulous time in Manhattan with Chris and Rochelle, of course. Moving to a place in Brooklyn today.

San Francisco on Wednesday.

I miss Germany.

Note from the hostel

2010-07-13T05:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Anna Weltner,
Thank you for your booking!
We confirm your reservation made through hostelworld like follows:

arrival:13.07.2010
nights:1
rooms / beds: 1 double room ensuite

Please check if this is what you wanted to book and contact us directly if something is wrong or needs to be changed.

Again we'd like to point out that we are in the MIDDLE of the REDLIGHT DISTRICT … So, now You know. We have “warned” you.
We think that it is safe and rather entertaining, but we like our guests to be happy, also with the location.

So if you like to cancel your booking (because of this or other reasons) please do so up to 24 hours before your arrival in order to avoid cancellation fees (price of the 1st night).

***

....And so I will spend my last night in Germany!!!

Tschüß, happiness...

2010-07-11T10:53:00.000-07:00

Micha peaced out today. (Night shift back in Erfurt.)
I am staying in Berlin until Tuesday.
Then it's off to NYC, SF, BS and finally SLO.
Oh well. Some photos for distraction.

Micha in Erfurt before Spain creamed Germany last week (after photo not provided)

Ostrich man made of sand (at a sand sculpture exhibit in Berlin yesterday)

Discovering the self-timer in Dresden's Frauenkirche.

TV sand mountain, Berlin

Making a difficult decision at Dresden's Sheune, one of those cafe/restaurant/venue/Biergarten/dance club places. Note the man in the wine.

It is crazy until you feel it too: Basically summing up my current existence. Thank you, toilet at Rosi's, for your poignant wisdom.

Heavy suitcase/heart: Update

2010-07-08T07:40:00.000-07:00

Saw some friends for the last time yesterday and today.
My heart is double-broken now and Sunday isn't even here yet.
Bought some new books to fill the ever-widening void in my (espresso-black) soul.
I know I wasn't s'posed to do that but they are really mini, and I think I might take Coopak Shakur's advice (see comments) and send them by boat.

I bought the pocket-sized Alles ist erleuchtet and Der Junge in gestrieften Pajama. True, I could read these books at home in my native tongue, but I would rather read them in German. I could stuff them in my pockets and they won't make my suitcase any heavier. Yeah.
(Built-in bonus: if someone spanks me I won't feel it!)

Said goodbye to Martin today and he gave me a cute scarf with the colors of the German flag. He is such a model person. I like him.

It gave me a sick feeling to see him go.

Will be gone from Erfurt indefinitely in 24 hours. I still haven't realized it.

Not close to done packing, oops.

The weather couldn't be any geiler, but my head is a gathering stormcloud and I am raining on the inside.

The Erfurter Sprachschule owes me 710 Euro. Should I be worried? Maybe I will call and nerve them.

Last night Germany got creamed by the Spanish. Erfurt took it personally. Tears were shed. Looks like they won't be Weltmeister this year.

I am spending my evening in Erfurt with Mirjam and friends in the Dubliner, the same little pub where I spent my first evening in Erfurt. I will be an emotional wreck and I really hope Micha still likes me after witnessing my emotional wreckage.

I am seriously a little worried about that. Okay, more like a lottle.

Oh, dear. Vergiss mich nicht!

Heavy suitcase, heavier heart

2010-07-07T07:12:00.000-07:00

A frowning rainbow of sadness.

Current state of the suitcase

What to pack? What not to pack?? Can I live without German-language Harry Potter? German-language Murakami? German-language 20,000 Leagues under the Sea? The Metamorphosis? The Berlin Stories? Um, nööö. Hallo!? This is breaking my heart. These books have been some of my best friends over this year. It's too bad they're so heavy.

Admittedly, Einführung in die Interkulturelle Wirtschaftskommunikation wasn't exactly pleasure reading, but it was a big part of my life and I spent a really long time trying to understand it, as you can see from my notes:

STREBER 1

STREBER 2

Oh, sadness! I am waxing so nostalgic and gooey. (Of Montreal is kinda helping though, gotta say. Plan to dance crazily in my room by myself when this verdammt mess of packing is behind me.)

Two days until Berlin.

Seven until New York.

14 until San Francisco.

Would be happy if I were not an emotional disaster! There, I said it.

Once in Linnaea's a guy told me the coffee was "as black as my soul." Now I feel I can add that my suitcases are as heavy as my heart. Yack. I miss you already, M-dog.

(Es ist doch ein schönes Bild, bitte hasse mich nicht)

Urlaub update

2010-07-05T15:28:00.000-07:00

Thoroughly enjoying my last days in E-town; visiting a stalactite cave in Saalfeld (upon Micha's invitation) yesterday and getting a visit from the wonderful Bianca today. 

Bianca, German but married to an American, is a friend from my hometown of San Luis Obispo. Seeing her in Germany (and speaking German with her!) was quite the trip. 

Pikkies from both adventures to come soon, I think.

And now for the main distraction

2010-07-05T15:16:00.000-07:00

In attempt to distract myself from my distress over, well, what I last posted, I was reading a Spiegel interview with a sci-fi author Daniel Saurez. His depiction in the thriller Daemon of a very near future in which a murderous "bot" network controls humanity, is (so the article said) one eerily close to home, given the massive amounts of data voluntarily shared by millions every day via social networks Twitter and Facebook, data which is already being scanned and researched by "bots" in order to more effectively sell us things, and/or otherwise manipulate our soft little brainies.

At the mention of Facebook, I had to take a quick FB break. Great news awaited me! I had been tagged in quite a nice photo. Which had already been commented on once. Mmm, warm, narcissistic fuzzy. Could such a fuzzy ever really cause harm?? It just doesn't seem right...like a radioactive teddy bear.

Could it's soft edge cut you, as Rilo Kiley once warned in the song "A man/me/then Jim?" (Of course, Jenny Lewis was singing about what she called the "slow fade of love" in that song, but the lyric does have more than one, for lack of a better word, application.)

Anyway, it's kind of gross, but I feel like I have to admit that

I have come to regard people who don't use Facebook as sort of saintly figures I respect but couldn't hope to emulate.
I have twice dreamt about getting new FB notifications, or, as German Facebook calls them, neue Facebook-Benachrichtigungen.

I also realized it's a little bit disgusting that I had been reading to distract myself, then got distracted away from my main distraction. So I went back to my article, in which Suarez signed off with the words,

"A very small group of powerful people is deciding what's going to happen with your data, and they're using bots to help implement what they want to do. That has nothing to do with democracy. It's all about efficiency. And that's the really scary thing about it. I'd prefer we don't take that trip. Otherwise, this could really end up being a hellish world."

Separation anxiety

2010-07-01T07:39:00.000-07:00

Oh GOD. Only two weeks left in Germany, starting today. I don't like this. I feel queasy. I can't even enjoy the moment because I am too busy eulogizing it already. Every moment for me is a snapshot in time which my brain is busy framing, categorizing, archiving and nostalgizing. (My brain is going, "Look, Anna, wasn't that a nice time you had in Germany? Those were the days.") Whatever I do now, I am not really doing it, I am "making a memory;" posing for my mental pictures.

This can't be right! I keep seeing acquaintances and going, "By the way, I'm moving back to the States soon. Good-bye, in case I never see you again!"

I only just bought my ticket to California yesterday (from NYC, where my program ends, not from Germany). I was putting it off for a long time. Now, it's time to think about packing, good-byes, catching flights, getting my job back at home and starting the Fall semester in boring old boyfriendless America.

I realized recently, with a sick start, that I have 12 days left with Micha. 12. I am leaving from Frankfurt on the 14th, a Wednesday, and am staying with Erich in Berlin for 2 days before that. So I have to say goodbye on the 12th, the Sunday after this one. Next Sunday!! Fuckkkk. Sick to stomach. Not liking this.

Okay, trying to think of something positive about the situation:

A week in NYC with Chris 'n' Rochelle on the way home
Visiting Cooper in San Francisco on the way home
Possibly seeing my Grandma in Big Sur on the way home (it's a long way)
Mom, Dad, Brenda, Christopher, Ariel, Heather, Brownie, Pepper
Riding my bike everywhere
Going to the beach
Linnaea's Cafe
Actually making college progress and applying myself again
Free water with ice cubes, free public bathrooms, bag boys, the dollar, no extremely cold temperatures, cell phone contract (no more pre-paid Quatsch)
German will be my secret language. Perhaps will read Nietsche in public. Out loud.

Plus, I will see Micha again in November, and between now and then I will be so busy working toward my future, the time will just sail by. Right?

Author's note:

r. Quatsch (ugs): Nonsense, malarkey, bunk, balderdash and/or flim-flam.

Dreamsense

2010-07-01T06:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wake up with a weird, nonsensical phrase in my head, and this morning was no exception: "Upstairs, there's an Irish pub with a moonlight pistol. Don't be violent!" And so I began my day.

It wasn't the first time I woke up with something completely odd in my head. The best one happened when I was a kid and my mom was trying to wake me up, and I grumbled, "Why are you trying to get a shark to smile?" Then I heard laughing and woke up, and realized I had just been talking dream-nonsense, and I got super mad and embarrassed.

Dresden dolls

2010-06-30T10:59:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was spent in Dresden with Micha, where we ate lots of ice cream, took a pricey boat tour, got some old building culture, slept in a car, went to the German Hygiene Museum and drank beer at a GDR-style pub, where we tried really hard to think of something we have in common.

(We hold extremely differing opinions in regards to soccer, chocolate, holding hands, water sports and jewelry. The list of things we both like goes like this:

Softeis
Each other
Ace Ventura

...and that's all you need anyway.)

Friday The wheels

The Zwinger

Enjoying soft-serve ice cream, one of the three things we both like

Saturday Drinking beer in the sun in Neustadt


Spontanious hotel room outbursts

Micha on the banks of the Elbe

Sunday Forbidden photo taken in the Hygiene Museum, at an interactive exhibit designed to make people understand what it's like to live with a handicap. This apparatus is supposed to make you understand what it's like to go through life as a creature with two cups attached to its ears.

And that was it! We were kissed by the sun, got lost a lot and didn't really mind, and generally had A Very Nice Time.

Vorfreude

2010-06-24T16:15:00.000-07:00

Dresden tomorrow with Micha! So happy. Forget everything I just posted (except for the bit about being an intern; being an intern is still bullshit)!

Anyway, quite pleased. Sleeping here in this:

photo courtesy of your mother

Subhuman again

2010-06-24T04:24:00.000-07:00

Current thoughts:

Completely miserable sitting indoors, butt conforming to chair, feeling inhuman, hating life (not really, nobody freak out), and so forth.
I don't think Microsoft Word and newsletter layouts are the best of friends.
Never want to be an intern again. Have decided 'intern' is a ridiculous concept akin to slave and excuse to pay poorly or not at all.

Would want to go home right now if it weren't for the fact that everything else is wonderful, making for a really confusing daily medley of joy (sunshine, music, books, friends, being loved) and despair (no writing work, making zero career progress, making zero college progress, bursting into tears at inconvenient times/places, working alone for free, or at least trying to and then giving up, small-town claustrophobic insanity, uselessness, regret).

Is there anything about the situation I can change? Anything?

He who didn't jump

2010-06-22T15:02:00.000-07:00

On Saturday evening, I went with Martin to a festival at Domplatz where there was, aside from music and beer, bungee jumping. I watched the people springing from sixty meters, my emotions running a weird loop between envy and cowardice. (The envy of that experience led to a desire to do it myself. Then upon noticing that I sort of wanted to do that too, the cowardly side drowned out all desire to do it, leaving me in envious awe of the people who were brave enough to jump. The envy made me want to do it myself.)

I watched the people getting sort of saddled in, climbing into a metal box, waving to their friends on the ground, and then being hoisted up into the sky with a crane. There were different jumping styles. Some of them stood in the box for several minutes before they sprung. Some of them took off right away. Some of them stretched out their arms and lifted their heels off the ground several times before the actual spring.

One of them stood in the box a particularly long time. He prepared to spring several times, but his feet never left the platform. I craned my neck to see. Five minutes passed. People began to gather below and murmur to each other. Five more minutes passed. My neck hurt from craning. People began to chant, "Springe, springe, springe!" The crowd wasn't going to let him back down easily. But he didn't spring.

I tried to remember the German expression for "between a rock and a hard place" so that I could describe the situation so to Martin, but I seemed to have forgotten it.

Martin said, "Spanne uns nicht auf die Folter! (By the way Anna, do you know this expression?)"

And I said, "My neck is getting a cramp (yes, I do know that one, thanks)."

The guy kept standing there, while the crowd below got more and more impatient with him. He had several false starts. Every time he got close to the edge and stretched his arms out, the crowd began to cheer. I still couldn't remember how to say "between a rock and a hard place," even though it had been in my online German flashcards loop that afternoon.

Sixty meters above, the man raised his arms like a bird, unsure before a first flight. I wondered why the attendant didn't just push him out of the nest. But if he jumped, my chance would be gone. It would be all over between me and this expression. I needed to know what it was.

His arms went back down. By now the crowd had doubled in size. "He must have terrible Höhenangst," I commented. Höhenangst is the same as acrophobia but sounds far more intense. But if he was so afraid, why did he pay 50 euros for the torture? The crowd began to chant again. Jump, jump, jump. 15 minutes had passed.What pressure. What beads of sweat must be forming on his brow. What was that freaking expression already?

Suddenly the big metal box began its descent back to Earth. A general boo of disappointment emanated from the groundlings. He returned to Earth as He Who Didn't Jump.

"He must feel pretty dumb," said Martin. He Who Didn't Jump set his feet on solid ground once again. Some people clapped. "However," conceded Martin, "you have to agree, not jumping is also brave in a way. He had the courage to say, 'hey, I'm not going to jump,' in front of that huge crowd."

I guess.

The jump went unjumped. The expression I'd been seeking after (zwischen Baum und Borke stecken) surfaced superfluously two days later. Some things can't be forced.

FOM (Friend of Mirjam)

2010-06-20T07:38:00.000-07:00

Mirjam having The Mirjam Experience (good music + good beer + intellectual conversation)

How is it possible to not have mentioned Mirjam in six months of blogging?

Mirjam is my tandem partner turned partner in crime and one of my favorite people in Erfurt. She is also one of the few English-speaking Germans who actually respects my wishes to speak in German most of the time. As a result, I learn some completely bizarre German word or expression every time we go out together. (And we do love to go out. In addition to the many other linguistic oddities I have picked up, I think I must have learned at least ten different ways to say "tipsy.")

Mirjam, in addition to being the most positive and dance-happy person I have ever met, is also amazingly well-informed. She seems to know about every single concert, reading, show, festival, dance party, film showing or other cultural event in Erfurt, no matter how obscure, and also seems to be on a mission to attend every single one of these events, where she inevitably knows everyone. All one needs to do as Friend of Mirjam is tag along for the ride...

True

2010-06-20T06:01:00.000-07:00

The woman working in the cafe in which I type this has had the hiccups for three years.

Fake knives and hot dogs: My role in Erich's development

2010-06-17T09:37:00.000-07:00

image courtesy of sebastian pigeon-toe'd

This marks the second time a picture of me being stabbed by Erich has been a "Before" picture in a "Before and After" sequence (remember?). I fear its the beginning of a trend. Not that I am not happy to be a part of Erich's non-development!

Im Gegenteil.

4. Todo Aleman episode

2010-06-17T01:42:00.000-07:00

Hi, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, meine Damen und Herren,

die 4. Anna-Episode auf Todo Aleman ist da. Feel free to read it in English oder auf Deutsch.

Byee.

A.

Why I love German:

2010-06-16T04:00:00.000-07:00

Büstenhalter ("Bustholder") = bra

Handschuh ("Handshoe") = glove

Arbeitgeber ("Workgiver") = employer

Krankenhaus ("Sickpeoplehouse") = hospital

Staubsauger ("Dustsucker") = vacuum cleaner 

Volkenkratzer ("Cloudsscratcher") = skyscraper 

Okay, that last one is at least cool in English too. Then there's the amazing word Zeug (stuff):

Fahrzeug ("Drivestuff") = vehicle

Flugzeug ("Flystuff") = airplane

Feuerzeug ("Firestuff") = lighter 

Schlagzeug ("Beatstuff") = percussion

When you have a crush on someone, you "stand on" them (auf jemanden stehen). Then when you are tired of them, you "have the nose full" (die Nase voll haben). Maybe you even give them the basket and make finish with them. Makes perfect sense!!

That's all! Bye!

Fact

2010-06-15T05:43:00.000-07:00

I am the first American Micha has ever met in his life.

Slightly atypical in Berlin

2010-06-14T12:37:00.000-07:00

At the breakfast table, oddly enough. 

On my third trip to Germany's capital, I was free of the pressure to take pictures of the Reichstag and the Brandenburger Tor and the Dom, so I decided to capture things that were just plain interesting.

An anti-Capitalist march ("Die Krise heißt Kapitalismus"). 

Discovered amazing cafe called Kauf Dich Glücklich, complete with creepy stuffed fox guarding the door.

Erich in front of a sparkly store which sold, among other things, urban hipster outfits for infants. 

My goodness. Trip to Berlin for my Final Seminar with the Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange for Young Procrastinators was saved by a certain half-Austrian kook. Thank God for Erich...

I strongly dislike being kept in large groups of Americans, which is what we always have to do at these seminars. I think after a year in Germany these people have sort of incubated and become more American than before (cultural incubation: has someone coined this term already?). I can't believe some people lived in Germany for a year without learning the language! And I can't believe the program leaders had to address the topic of alcoholism at the beginning of last week's seminar!! How humiliating.

I winced so much to hear people complaining to the organizers of their prestigious scholarship program. Perhaps it bothered me because I heard a bit of myself in their complaints: I was unhappy living in Erfurt for a solid 3 months myself (frigid temperatures, uninviting former living space, long commute, no internship possibilities in my field, loneliness) and I know I must have whined about it at some point to my friends, but I would never blame the people who flew me here, handled my paperwork and covered the bulk of my expenses. At least not loudly, to their faces.

We had another cultural trainer, like we have had at other seminars. And like we have done at other seminars, we drew on flip-charts, talked about German-American stereotypes, did role play exercises, slurped free coffee and didn't take things seriously enough.

(Let's talk about more positive things now)

I spoke a lot of Amerikanisch, which rang cheerful and sloppy in my ears. ("Like junk food that you speak," commented my freind Boombox once.)

We were guests at the Bundestag and at the new American Embassy. The American ambassodor to Germany greeted us and offered precious American commodities like Dr. Pepper and free water with ice cubes.

After the week-long seminar closed, I stayed with Erich in Potsdam, in order to hang out longer in the city.

(Like insignificant coincidences)

While getting lost in Berlin, we ran into Jens, from Aachen, who I stayed with during that last trip to Nord-Rhein Westfalen with Claudius and Daniel. He walked past me and I thought I recognized him, then dismissed it as impossible. Then he doubled around to ask me if there were any cool parties to go to in the neighborhood, and I ventured to say, "Haven't we met before?" and he said, "Don't think so." Then I reminded him that I stayed at his house in Aachen and that his name was Jens. That seemed to ring a bell.

The weird thing was, out of such an absurd coincidence came nothing of significance. We talked for a while and then went our separate directions. That was it.

(This sort of thing would never, ever happen in a film. In a film, it would have been Fate which brought us together. Something amazing would need to result from our encounter. We would have found each other for a Reason. But apparently, the cosmos just had coincidences to spare that evening. That was all. Like bakeries who toss out perfectly good bread at the end of the day.)

Enough. Gute Nacht, Berlin.

Altstadtsfrühling

2010-06-07T01:42:00.000-07:00

Never posted theses from the spring fair at Domplatz in Erfurt.

Pretty, or?

View of Domplatz from the Petersberg.

Another shot of the Dom in Erfurt. Why I chose this angle, I'm not sure. I seemed to think the streetlamp was of utmost importance. Don't judge me.

I heart you, Erfurt. Even if you happen to be home to the weirdest dialect in Germany.

$3,760.44

2010-06-06T06:34:00.000-07:00

...is how much of my own money I have spent in Germany thus far since August 2009. $3,760.44! Ten months! (Not counting birthday/Christmas money, scholarship stipend, English lesson income, and tax refund.) And I live on Müsli and wear the same thing every day. I am a hobo.

Homeward bound, that is.


Just some hobos.

Latest news

2010-06-06T05:37:00.000-07:00

Oh Em Gee, I interviewed the mayor of Erfurt yesterday, Andreas Bausewein, at the Finale der Spirit of Football Strassenfussballmeisterschaft zur Lange Nacht des Sports im Rahmen der Arena der Zukunft, or Street Soccer Finale in English. Sven introduced me as "unsere internationale Reporterin." I'd love to show you the video when it's ready. Hilarious.

On Thursday, Marcus from Todo Aleman came to town and interviewed me briefly about the differences between eastern and western Germany from the perspective of an American exchange student, for a film to be shown to American highschoolers considering studying in Germany. Apparently, every year they make such a film with a different topic (music, sports, etc.) and this year, as it is 20 years after German reunification, well, the topic is German reunification. Will share that film here too, if I get my hands on it.

Erich sent me a nonsensical email ("delirious and no makey sensey means two times the fun to read-y for yous mistah"). I think that boy gets an average of two hours' sleep per night. He lives in Potsdam but works in Berlin, only coming home between the hours of 1 and 8 a.m., when his ghastly host family is asleep.

Two more days until Berlin.

19 days until Dresden.

38 days until NYC.

??? days until home in California.

I ♥ M.D.

Spirit of Football Tournament Videos

2010-06-01T10:36:00.000-07:00

There's nothing weirder than hearing the recorded sound of one's own voice, except perhaps hearing the recorded sound of one's own voice in German. My 'r' nearly made my ears bleed when I saw the videos today.

At the second Spirit of Football tournament, I got to use a mix of English and German, as the video is intended for an international audience. At the third tournament, which took place at the Universität Erfurt, there were a group of international players, who I also interviewed in English.

I love the little expert in the first video. (You'll see what I mean, assuming you understand German.)

Young Procrastinators, part II

2010-05-31T10:15:00.000-07:00

I finally banged out my 2009-2010 Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange for Young Professional Final Report and turned it in. I am now concentrating my powers of procrastination on my delayed "sub-Saharan Africa" issue of the newsletter I am currently (supposed to be) working on for Spirit of Football. Oh man, I get really, really bogged down when I work by myself. The text is almost complete; I just need to flesh out the part about The Ball in Benin (where it received a benediction from the Pope of voodoo). Then I have to format it and pick out the pictures, which sometimes takes me more time than the actual writing of the newsletter. I don't wanna...

The following things are keeping my spirits from dragging through the mud:

Being interviewed this Thursday about my experiences in western vs. eastern Germany for a film about the 20th anniversary of German unification.
Berlin trip next week with the CBYX Young Procrastinators, complete with visit to Bundestag
Upcoming trip to Dresden with Someone, complete with sleeping in a room with Trabant as a bed to get the Ossi experience. Perhaps we can even ~~play games of hide and go seek and instead of taking turns being "it" we can take turns being "Stasi"~~ view some classic archetecture from the Baroque, Romantic, Renaissance and neo-Renaissance periods.

With this in mind, who could concentrate on work, I ask you? All right, back to biz for real this time.

Congress Bundestag Youth Exchange for Young Procrastinators

2010-05-30T14:37:00.000-07:00

Ughhh. I don't want to finish my final report for CBYX. I'm supposed to be working on it, since it's due tomorrow (!!). I am almost done, too. All l I have left to do is a one-page paper in German about my duties during my internship. I could totally have it done already if I wasn't so busy complaining about it.

I suddenly love every kind of writing that is not my 2009-2010 Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange for Young Professionals Final Report, hanging over my head threateningly like a big gray German stormcloud. So. Let me tell you all about my day!

At the third Spirit of Football tournament today, there were some international students who didn't all speak German, so I explained the rules in English. One of the Germans said, without a trace of irony, that I didn't speak English very well ("Die Anna kann nicht so gut Englisch, oder?"). Um. I don't know what to say.

My interviews at the tournament went much better than the last two times. I'll let you in on the link to the videos when it is available. In the meantime, meet local DJing sensation Mensa Jürgen, who provided the tunes at today's tournament:

Mensa Jürgen spun hits such as "Viva Colonia" (which I have, if accidentally, memorized the words to by now), "Das geht ab" (same), a techno version of Sonny and Cher's "I got you," and Lena's Eurovision Song Contest winner "Satellite."

(Side ramble: I'm happy about Germany winning yesterday, but where on God's green Earth did Lena get that funky accent? Spiegel called it "a Swedish speech therapist imitating Ali G.")

God. Nothing standing between me and my 2009-2010 Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange for Young Professionals Final Report now. Verdammt.

Willkommen bei I don't philosophize every morning

2010-05-29T05:42:00.000-07:00

Six readers now? Six?? Well, new readers call for a new post. I can't let you guys down. (Utopia, you had better be Utopia Bakery in San Luis Obispo. I love your buns, Utopia.)

I haven't posted in a week, which means it's time for the week in review, a Querschnitt of my life:

***

Last Saturday, I did my second "I'm a cute but shitty reporter!" installment at a Spirit of Football tournament. (See recap of first installment here.) I felt like I did terribly, though not as terribly as the first time. Sven said that he could tell from the footage that I didn't feel comfortable. However, Marcus from Todo Aleman seeemed to think it was wonderful, so I assume he got the edited version. I personally have not seen any versions, but when I get my mitts on one I'll post it here and for your squirmy viewing pleasure. Have some Schadenfreude on me.

On Sunday/Monday I went with Micha to the village of Gössitz, which for reasons of discretion I am not going to blather on about, except to say that

I had a Very Nice Time and
I should have taken a picture of the alpacas.

On Tuesday I finally got around to watching Friendship with Claudius and Daniel. If you recall, C&D are coming to America in two years and are planning to visit me in California. For those who don't live in Germany, Friendship is a fairly bad but highly enjoyable film about two East German kids who, after the fall of the Wall, decide to travel to San Francisco. Being short on funds, they make it as far as New York and try hitch-hiking to California via the American South, which paves the way for many culture-clash scenes, made even funnier because they can't really speak English.

Yeah...not many Southerners speak German. If I had been there, I would have helped out. But then the boys would have been like "what a cute accent!" and would have started fighting over me anyway.

After the movie, my Straßenbahn was in Stau, so Claudius took me to Anger on the Gepäckträger of his Fahrrad so I could catch my Anschluss. (Incomprehensible? Well, that's what a year in Germany does to a person.)

On Wednesday through Friday I think I puttered around, started working on a new Spirit of Football newsletter, taught two English lessons and wrote the much-delayed fourth Todo Aleman installment.

Oh, and I danced a lot at Stadtgarten. Thursday was Indiecated and Friday was Balkan Beatz. It got so hot and grubby in that tiny upstairs club, it was almost tropical.

Here we are at Saturday again. I really should go shopping before Sunday, when all the stores remain mercilessly closed.

Schönes Wochenende noch (friends, lovers, stalkers and everyone in between),

A.

Author's note:

Querschnitt: Cross-section

;)

2010-05-22T09:04:00.000-07:00

Wink, wink.

Neuer Haarschnitt

2010-05-19T05:53:00.000-07:00

Before

After

Thanks to Micha, I got my first haircut (and color) in Germany today. Good thing; I was looking a little unkempt.

3. Todo Aleman Episode

2010-05-18T14:43:00.000-07:00

Dear readers (all 4 of you),

Read me!

Liebe Leser (alle 4 von euch),

Lies mich!

♥,

Anna

I don't deserve you

2010-05-18T09:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning just before 9 o'clock, Micha came by to see me after my extremely long weekend away, and do you know what? I was still asleep. In such a deep sleep was I that I did not hear him call, or ring the doorbell, and had slept through my alarm, which was set for 8. Micha said he waited outside my apartment building for 15 minutes, hoping I would awake and let him in, seeing as he had brought breakfast by from the bakery, and I hadn't seen him in almost a week. But, I most shamefully admit, I slept through everything! Eventually he went back to his house and had breakfast by himself.

Two hours later, as if rising from the dead, I woke up and realized I'd missed him. I felt so terrible I could hardly concentrate all day. I baked cupcakes and brought them over that evening to say I was sorry. Micha, amazingly enough, didn't seem to be bothered, shrugging, "That's okay, it was nice weather. I watched the garbage collectors while I was waiting outside your house."

He is kind of ridiculous sometimes.

Then he added, in an offhand way, that he had gotten me a present over the weekend, just because. It was a bottle of perfume, the amazing soundtrack to Berlin Calling ("I don't know if it's your kind of music...") and...a hair appointment for tomorrow.

(Have I mentioned that I haven't cut my hair in 10 months and it is kind of out of control? For some reason I dreaded going to the Friseur in Germany, afraid of what They might do. Well, now I have an appointment and I have to go.)

I suppose he wants to tidy me up a bit.

Before I meet his mother this weekend.

Escaping to NRW

2010-05-18T08:29:00.000-07:00

Over the extremely long weekend, I tagged along with natives Claudius and Daniel on a trip to the lovely state of Nord-Rhein Westfalen. Daniel and Claudius are landscape architecture students who I met outside of the Engelsburg last month as I was standing outside of the club's entrance and attempting to finish some wine in a tetra-pak that I had somehow acquired on the Straßenbahn and assumed responsibility for. We got to talking, and they said they were planning an American road trip in two years, and I mentioned that I was from America (unnecessary compliments were duly payed to my command of the German language) and I invited them to my house in California which I will hopefully have in two years...

Claudius on the bank of the Rhein

We started hanging out after that, and they said I could come with on a road trip in Daniel's VW Bus if I was interested in going back to Cologne, and, professional tag-along that I am, I accepted.

On the trip we stayed in Cologne (well, nearby) and with friends of Daniel in Aachen. I sort of went with the flow. Everything was fine with me. I was happy to see NRW once more, in what may well be the last time ever. I was extremely happy to leave Erfurt, where I have been feeling cloistered and redundant.

Art piece at Cologne's Museum Ludwig

We went to a modern art museum in Cologne, and went to the Theater and toured the Dom in Aachen. Feeling mildly experimental, I smoked catnip with Claudius, who proved a great expert on American music of the 60s and 70s. During the long car ride, I introduced them to Gang Gang Dance.

That's a band.

With Daniel's friends, I remembered what it's like in large group of fast-talking Germans. Even after 9 months in Germany, I find it hard to keep up. I felt like I was drowning in German.

Train station coffee

I saw my former host mom, Ellen, perhaps for the last time before I leave Europe. We didn't have a whole lot of time together, although there was apparently enough time for her to whip together a soup and a vegetarian Auflauf (!).

Ellen, I and Nina

Tagging along on the trip made me feel homesick for Germany already, knowing I was making memories which I will look back on wistfully whilst pining away in some climate-controlled office in America.

This little piggy...

2010-05-12T05:39:00.000-07:00

The subject of reproduction makes me queasy but seems to crop  up everywhere. 

Rather cute ad though.

Exquisitely Uncomfortable

2010-05-09T09:01:00.000-07:00

Today I played reporter at Spirit of Football's street football tournament. I had actually been looking forward to this opportunity as a way to get out of the house and out of English, but the result today was simply awful. My loosely defined assignment was to interview the participants, aged 14-17, and the organizers of the event. The result, I am afraid, will be published on Spirit of Football's website and on Todo Aleman.

The interviewing itself wasn't so bad. Accompanied by a cameraman from the Thüringer Allgemeine, I had a few short conversations which, in hindsight, went all right. But then came the part when I had to talk directly to the camera, and that was when I choked.

The video clip was intended for the Goethe Institute's trilingual youth-oriented website Todo Aleman, and I needed to film a short opening scene in which I introduced the event, mentioning Todo Aleman as partial sponsors. But somehow, I couldn't get any words out.

The camera man said, "Rolling."

I stared into the camera.

The camera man: "Rolling."

"Ladies and gentlemen, football fans, our friends at Todo Aleman, welcome to this year's first Spirit of Football street football tournament! I'm Anna, reporting live from Nordpark in Erfurt and...um..."

(Long pause.)

The camera man: "Rolling."

"...and we have nice weather....(long pause) okay I really don't know what else to say. Can I do it again?"

Camera man: "All right, that was good. This time finish your sentence."

Me: "Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends at Todo Aleman, dear football fans and sports enthusiasts, welcome to this year's first Spirit of Football street football tournament! I'm Anna, reporting live from Nordpark in Erfurt, where 5 teams (here I struggled with the plural of "team" in German) have gathered to um...play football and um...yeah! Enjoy!"

Ugh. Terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad. I started well, but, as often happens to me, couldn't find a graceful way to land the plane, instead defaulting to the crash and burn method.

I am, in a sick way, almost proud of my awful performance.

Not here, not now

2010-05-09T07:51:00.000-07:00

The lethargy and sense of despairing pointlessness I have recently been experiencing came to a head today. In my internship I am neither earning money, nor am I receiving a grade, nor am I improving my German by writing all day in English. The work I do goes in the same category as the work I don't do: unnoticed.

With this view, it has been difficult to get myself to do any work at all. I do the work of course, but my heart is not in it. At the end of the day I am so introverted and full of English, I can hardly get myself to get out and socialize in German at all. I no longer feel like doing the things I used to do. When I do pry myself out of my dark cave, I am like a mole blinking in the sunlight, unable to navigate, blundering around blindly. Social situations have become comically, predictably awkward. When I engage in conversation, something seems to be terribly off, as if I am an actor reading from the wrong script. What can I say? Working alone in silence every day turns me weird.

I heave a great emotional sigh whenever someone asks where I'm from. I don't want to talk about it anymore. And if one more person tells me how amazing my German is, I am going to personally tear my own head off and eat it. Sometimes people tell me how good it is without me even having to mention that I am not from Germany! Something about that doesn't add up.

I don't really know what I'm doing in Erfurt anymore. I want a real job so bad it hurts, but I can't make that a reality here. I want more than anything to work for a magazine. (I am hilariously bad at most things, but writing is not one of them.) But when and where do I get to use my talent? Not now, not here.

Hot-air balloons

2010-05-07T05:12:00.000-07:00

My backyard.

May day, m'aidez

2010-05-01T09:28:00.000-07:00

Can someone explain me my life?

Language List

2010-04-29T06:06:00.000-07:00

~~English~~ (freebie)
~~German~~ (good enough)
French (replaced by German)
Spanish (useful in California)

Looks like there's some work to be done here.

Austauschpartymaschine

2010-04-25T04:19:00.000-07:00

This is me at parties nowadays.

Hallo.

AnnaWeltner

dreiundzwanzigdu?

seit-August/bis-Juli

InternationalStudiesdu?
NEINnichtErasmusStudentin

JADeutschvorhergehabt//:eineinhalbJahre

SpiritofFootballe.V.SportVereinÖffentlichkeitsarbeit
AusKalifornienkleineStadt/du-kennst-sie-bestimmt-nicht-ha-ha.

ZwischenLosAngeles+SanFrancisco//:ungefähr20Minuten
vomStrandentfernt.Aberhieristauchschön!!!!!ha-ha.

JAhiergefälltmirsehrwirklich

NajaokayMansiehtsich.

Tschüß.

blip.bloop.bleep.nullnullnullnullnullnulleins

0000001.

-0-
-

The one bum of Erfurt

2010-04-24T05:08:00.000-07:00

Last night I suffered a terrible nightmare in which the one bum of Erfurt, the one who sleeps in the Sparkasse near Anger and spends his waking hours drinking booze and singing loudly, was chasing me through the playground at Angerbrunnen and hollering "kleines Mädchen!" aggressively, while every step I took was like a stride through a swamp. I woke up clammy and horrified at 4:30 in the morning.

I dreamt it all in German; that's a sign of continued progress.

Author's notes:

Sparkasse: German bank
Anger: center of town
Angerbrunnen: area near center of town
kleines Mädchen: little girl

2. Todo Aleman Episode

2010-04-22T06:03:00.000-07:00

Dear friends and lovers, Liebe Freunde und Liebhaber,

THOUGHTS?

GEDANKEN?

Peace,

Anna

Erich graces E-town

2010-04-20T13:48:00.000-07:00

Erich came back to Erfurt to visit last weekend. On Friday as soon as I was finished with work I rushed off to the Hauptbahnhof to pick him up. We went out to Stadtgarten, where there was some slightly wannabe yet still danceable music being played. The dance floor seemed to take ages to fill up, everyone waiting for everyone else to dance.

I rather showed myself up by galloping over to my cynical roommate Robert to ask him why he wasn't dancing, and at that moment getting the worst hiccups I have ever had.

On Saturday there was warm weather in Erfurt for the first time anyone could recall, and the Germans were having a field day. The center of town was packed; dogs and ice creams were everyone's new must-have accessory. On Sunday Erich and I went back for more ice cream. Then we took the train to Weimar to check out the Bauhaus Museum and take a picture in front of the gold man.

Erich told me a story about how he was looking for a job the summer before coming to Germany and stumbled across an obvious pyramid scheme, which he sort of experimentally allowed himself to get tangled up in, just to see what would happen. He did a splendid imitation of the terrifying passive-aggressive type who interviewed him, asking,"Are you excited?? Are you really excited?" like an evangelist at a charismatic church.

He also told about a woman he had worked with who sat so long her rear was the shape of the chair, and I said I kind of felt like that too sometimes. Then in the gift shop of the museum I picked up a small art piece, a carved man whose seated square body fit perfectly into a square chair, and I asked, is this what you meant?

Reasons to be grumpy

2010-04-20T06:41:00.000-07:00

Working alone, turning into subhuman
Rear end same shape as chair
Sneezed on self
Micha not going to Fränze's WG-party
Turning into subhuman
Roommate keeps talking to me in English in weird sort of power trip.
Getting made fun of all the time re: the letter r.

Rejection, pointlessness, discouragement.

On the other hand....

...it's not the end of the world.

Don't know why I have been so down today. I just spent a great weekend with Erich (sunshine, dancing, ice cream). I must have used up all of my serotonin. But working again is suddenly pure pain! I want to be with a human.

Space-age milk, no Skippy and drinking on the street: It's the little things

2010-04-13T15:31:00.000-07:00

I used to live next to this factory.

During his visit to Germany, Boombox kept a travel journal. In it he made lists. There were important new German words, such as Mitfahrgelegenheit, Pfand, Zigarette, and Entschuldigung. But he also noted small things which were a bit different from home. I helped contribute to the list, which looked something like this:

Space-age, non-refrigerated milk
Telephone/shower hybrids
Landlines
Leaving at midnight to go clubbing
No peanut butter
Toilet separate from bathroom
Apparently smarter animals
Drinking alcohol on the street

In fact, that last one was the shock of the trip. Michael was rather impressed that the checkers at the store did not care how old he was as we bought a crate of Köstritzer Schwarzbier, and by the fact that we were allowed to open it on the street. When I told him this news, he was not inclined to believe me, thinking, as the date would suggest, that it was an April Fool's joke.
I looked to my roommate Robert to back me up on this ("Please assure my friend it's okay to drink on the street."). Robert, seeing an opportunity to screw with someone, put on a somber face and said, "Oh no, I wouldn't advise this."
"See?" Said Michael triumphantly. "I knew she was making it up. Almost got me."
That settled it. I cracked one open, handed it to Michael, cracked another open, cheersed (um, what is anstoßen in English?) while making eye contact, which is very important in Germany, and set off for downtown to find a police officer to drink in front of, thus solidifying the fact that this is %100 legal.

Michael mit zwei Bier vor der Polizei. Unglaublich.

"Ungeöffnet ist unsere H-Milch auch ohne Kühlung 3 Monate haltbar. Sie ist in ihrer 1-l-Verpackung somit ideal zum Bevorraten. Die klassischen Fettgehaltsstufen 1,5 % und 3,5 % und ihr voller Milchgeschmack machen unsere Milch zu einem puren Genusserlebnis." -Osterland Milk Website

Creepy.

Knives and Candy: A weekend well spent

2010-04-10T07:10:00.000-07:00


Obligatory Sandmännchen photo

I picked up Boombox/Michael at the train station in Erfurt, full of the incredibility of it all- seeing a friend from San Luis Obispo, here in Erfurt? Wild! We cooked, went to a wine bar and then stomped around at Stadtgarten, where a band called Supershirt was playing.

After we had seen the sights of Erfurt, we caught a Mitfahrgelegenheit (ride) to Berlin. We met up with Alena, saw her new Friedrichshain apartment, met her new boy, went dancing at a place called Suicide Circus.

Alena's neighborhood is quite hip, and oddly enough is home to lots of young parents. I spotted a building covered in peeling posters and graffiti and assumed it was a club until Alena pointed out that it was a daycare.

Boombox: "Those are going to be some savvy kids."

Indeed. There was also a 10-cent vending machine selling, funnily enough, knives and candy. Thus the following photo sequence:

What could it be?

Knives and candy!

Ten cents? I've got that.

Just candy. That's boring.

Oh wow. So much is going on! More to come when I am not so distracted tearing Erfurt apart, washing laundry, touring the Cathedral, eating homemade tortes and/or drinking beer in front of the police.

I leave you with some unexplained images from Berlin:

First Birthday Dance

2010-04-09T04:22:00.000-07:00

Echt?

Boombox + Alena in Berlin

2010-04-05T08:11:00.000-07:00

Friends and lovers,

I haven't yet had a chance to sort through all of the photos from the weekend in Berlin, but here is a peek.

Anna

East Side Gallery
Unter den Linden

Street art in Friedrichshain 

Welcome to Germany, Herr Broombaugh!

2010-03-30T11:03:00.000-07:00

So. Boombox is arriving in Erfurt on Thursday. We are going to go to Berlin and stay with Alena, which means we'll be dancing the $%@*! out of that town come weekend.

Suggestions??

This causes me to reflect upon previous days and nights of greatness, when all one needed was Simpler Times and a cool ocean breeze...

The good ol' days: Heather, Boombie 'n' me.

Crashing an Animal Collective concert in the wilderness.

Using Michael's jacket as a nose-warmer.

Up to no good: Cruisin' for a bruisin' in Morro Bay. 

 Weather warm, pool glacial: What to do?

Like moths to the flame: A lamp shop near the beach.

A strangely eerie sight.

A road trip too long: One too many of everything.

Ready to go home.

This has been, of course, just a foretaste of the adventure which begins this Thursday. Needless to say, ich bin gespannt.

Ö as in Löve

2010-03-28T16:45:00.000-07:00

Dear ö,

You are so cute. I love your innocent, astonished little face. When I see you in italics I imagine you singing in a choir, belting your little heart out. Sometimes when I see you in caps you look so frightened, I just want to hold you close and comfort you. I always thought of you as different from the others. Your sister ä is bipolar and has an attitude problem to boot; your brother ü has a self-satisfied smirk permanently plastered across his smarmy face, but you are as honest and pure as you are expressive. I think I have a crush on you.

However, these days I can't escape the fact that you don't feel for me the way I feel for you. Every time I need you, you're never there for me. I call your name but you are nowhere to be found; in your place a cheap, soulless replica.

I need you so bad. Without you, how could I say wunderschön, Löwe, Öffentlichkeitsarbeit? Oh ö, how I long to know the secret of your ways.

Yet you leave me all alone to tackle löschen, lösen, aufhören. You are deaf to my pleas, staring unblinkingly ahead.

Hyperforeignation

2010-03-26T12:19:00.001-07:00

I can't believe this is not a word. I can't find it in any dictionaries. Well, if nobody objects, I'd like to coin the term

hy·per·for·eign·a·tion [hahy-per-fawr-in-ney-shuhn]

-noun

1. Overemphasis in attempt to correctly pronounce word or phrase foreign to the speaker, resulting in unnecessarily incorrect pronunciation, especially when speaker's native linguistic inclinations, when followed, would have resulted in correct or more correct pronunciation.

Everyone who has ever learned a new language has probably hyperforeignated at some point. Take for example the subconscious German reaction to the letters W and V, as they are pronounced in the English alphabet. The letters W and V enjoy nearly identical pronunciation in the German language (both sound like an English V), but are markedly different in English. It seems like the first reaction by German speakers learning English is to pronounce all Ws like Vs ("You are velcome!") but then, upon realizing that W makes a "oua" sound in English, the tendency is often over-corrected. Suddenly, all would-be V-sounds are redirected into W-sounds. Sometimes this pattern is successful. Winter, Wein and Wilkommen, all pronounced with a V-sound, turn neatly into winter, wine and welcome. However, this pattern can't be applied to everything. Wodka, for example, is pronounced the same in English but spelled with a V. Same goes for sowjet (soviet). Soon, telewision, winigar, and wery begin to dot the linguistic landscape. The mind seems to go, "Look, here comes a V-sound, better pronounce it like a W!"

The same confusion surrounding W and V among German speakers seems to be experienced just as strongly by speakers of French with the English H. In French, the letter H, as in hôtel, hôpital and horreur, is silent. These words, translating neatly into hotel, hospital and horror, give the false impression that all words in which the first letter pronounced is a vowel also receive an aspirated H, which is why you'll hear things like holive oil and horange. The aspirated H does not exist in French, so it is odd to hear such a concentrated effort placed on aspirating an H which does not need to be there. Meanwhile, the H disappears mysteriously from the words hair, have, and he.

(This switcharound seems to plague Italian speakers as well; an Italian friend I knew in Switzerland used to go to town every week with her friends Ellen and Hamber, known to everyone else as Helen and Amber.)

English speakers, are, of course, not perfect either. In fact, as typical linguistic late-bloomers, English speakers may be some of the world's worst hyperforeignators. (Or best, depending on how you look at it.) In the non-English speaking world, polite overlookance of blatant hyperforeignation by English speakers as they attempt to master a foreign language is general, and all recognizable sounds (let alone entire sentence constructions) uttered in a foreign tongue are met with encouragement and praise.

Yet we're improving. Young Anglo-Saxons are a more-traveled, worldlier demographic than the generation preceding them. Younger and younger, they are tentatively dipping their toes into the shallow end of the Olympic-sized pool that is non-English-speaking world.

We are, however, in no way exempt of the hyperforeignation phenomenon. In German, I personally have even been guilty of over-umlauting on occasion. That is, once I discovered the power of the German umlaut (mäandern, Küche, Öffentlichkeit), I got a little overexcited and began putting umlauts where they didn't belong, saying I was going "einkäufen" or telling people about my "Kätze" at home. (What color? "Schwärz.")

One really shouldn't take those dots so lightly, I slowly discovered. After all, an innocent ü can mean the difference between gay and humid.

I still can't say ö, so mistakes in which I incorrectly employ that letter are only made in my mind.

I aired the idea of hyperforeignation at dinner last weekend in Leipzig with other Congress-Bundestag participants. Marcus said he once asked a guy in Switzerland if he had "Fenster" on his computer (Fenster meaning "window" in German).

The guy: "Fenster?"

Marcus: "You know, Microsoft Fenster."

(A moment of confusion for both parties, then clarity:)

"Ahhh, Vindows!"

Patrick then added that he had once referred to das Mutterbrett in the German workplace and was told, "We just say 'motherboard,' man."

So I suppose the definition could be expanded a bit to include:

2. The unnecessary translation of words or phrases out of one's mother tongue into a foreign language, when such terms would be better known when left in the speaker's mother tongue.
So there you have it. A new word. Fully defined and exemplified. What more could a linguaphile want?

First Todo Aleman article

2010-03-25T03:18:00.000-07:00

My cherished 4 readers,

My first travel article was published on Todo Aleman today! It describes my work in Switzerland as a teenager at the Ecole d'Humanite, and also what attracts people in the States to German.

Read on. Or else.

Anna

The Life of a Praktikant

2010-03-23T06:25:00.000-07:00

[2:05:14 PM] Erich: psst

[2:05:19 PM] Erich: hello??

[2:05:34 PM] Anna: brb on phone

[2:05:48 PM] Erich: ok

[2:13:32 PM] Anna: hey!!!!!!

[2:13:47 PM] Anna: sorry, was on the phone with one of my spirit of footballers

[2:13:51 PM] Anna: still there??

[2:19:58 PM] Erich: lol yeah just finished emptying the paper shredder

[2:21:19 PM] Anna: the life of a Praktikant

[2:21:18 PM] Erich: i have to go throw away the shreddings now

[2:21:25 PM] Anna: ok take your time

[2:27:59 PM] Erich: the paper shredder was overflowing

[2:28:14 PM] Erich: so much so that it would not accept any more pages

[2:28:19 PM] Anna: sucks

[2:28:23 PM] Erich: it took two garbage bags to fill up

[2:28:36 PM] Erich: and i covered myself with all of the shreddings at one point

[2:28:51 PM] Erich: this was maybe 7 feet from my boss

[2:29:08 PM] Anna: my goodness, what an impression you must be making

[2:30:39 PM] Erich: eh they prob think i'm somewhat incompetent

[2:30:40 PM] Anna: my boss is in africa

[2:30:44 PM] Erich: luckyyyy

[2:30:54 PM] Anna Weltner: but my coworker called me a dau

[2:31:04 PM] Erich: a dau??

[2:31:03 PM] Anna: duemmster anzunehmender user

[2:31:10 PM] Erich: hahaha

[2:31:28 PM] Anna: it's an IT term for describing the computer challenged

[2:33:31 PM] Erich: i'm sure you're not that bad

[2:34:51 PM] Anna: well, my computer reacted violently to an attempt to download an important program, and in requesting help for the problem I earned myself the title of "DAU"

[2:35:29 PM] Erich: was this important program called 'shemale porn download assistant'?

[2:36:30 PM] Anna: something like that i think

Author's Notes:

1. Dümmster Anzunehmender User: "Dumbest Assumable User"
2. Praktikant: Intern

Where have I been all week?

2010-03-21T15:37:00.000-07:00

A week without posting! What's the deal? How am I to know I even did anything if I have no post to show for it? Let me (Achtung! Klischee!) take a stroll down memory lane.

Monday
Wrote press release about Spirit of Football's 50th day on the road. Sent it to Spirit of Football directors to look over before it goes out. Spent too long sitting in chair. Harvested contact info of important sports people.

Spent three hours teaching English.

Translated a report about the meeting of Spirit of Football and the mayor of Kati, Erfurt's twin city in Mali. Sven gave my German a makeover and and sent the report to local newspaper Thüringer Allgemeine.

Used the word nichtsdestoweniger for the first time.

Tuesday
Trip to Frankfurt with Sven to meet with an NGO called Kickfair cancelled. Wrote press release about Spirit of Football's interview with Malian football/soccer legend Salif Keita.

Got email back from Christian from Spirit of Football- apparently criticizing my 50th-day-on-the-road press release. The problem seemed to lie somewhere in this sentence: "It's a journey fit for those not short on spunk."

"Please use a subtler turn of phrase," the email implored.

Read release again. Found nothing wrong with it. Feelings bruised. Wondered, what's wrong with a little spunk? Wrote delicately defensive email back, saying needed new words to describe The Ball 2010's journey/pilgrimage/odyssey to South Africa. Had already used "amazing," "daring", "inspiring" and "ambitious hardly begins to describe" so many times.

Bought groceries.

Went to McFit. Noticed McDonald's is kitty-corner from McFit. Realized do not know how to say "kitty-corner" in German. Kätzchenecke, the literal translation, is probably not it.

Got email from Christian, explaining that "spunk" means "cum" in British. Most of our press contacts are in England. Aha. Fixed the offending sentence and sent spunk-free release to press contacts.

Drank wine poured generously by Robert, my roommate who has a nasty habit of speaking English with me.

Baked banana bread and brought some over to Micha, who had never had it before. Watched Sweeney
Todd in German, Micha threatening to fall asleep.

Wednesday
Got email from Spirit of Football's Phil, now in Burkina Faso, asking me to use only British English in press releases from now on. Honour. Colour. Favourite. My spellchecker objects to this as I type.

Carpark. Pram. Lift. Jumper. Full stop.

Met up with Sven in Weimar, planned out the newsletter we are working on about The Ball, which I hope will be allowed to be called The Baller.

It was Saint Patrick's Day but no one in Erfurt seems to have noticed.

Thursday
Day of hopeless attempts. Got to the language school to find my English course canceled for the day. Attempted to meet up with someone to repair my bicycle, after work, as planned, who didn't answer my calls.

Spent the evening reading the script of a play called Nest, by Bathsheba Doran, set in early-1800s Philadelphia. Michael, theater student in San Diego, sent it to me. He is performing in it soon. He inquired as to my thoughts. Well. The play begins like this:

SCENE 1
A dark kitchen in the middle of the day. Susanna Cox crouched, masturbating quietly, efficiently.
Jacob enters, holding a jug. He watches for a moment.

JACOB
Susanna?

(She stops immediately.)

What are you doing?

A beat.

SUSANNA
Nothing.

Identified with a new nation's struggle to find its artistic identity:

"We can no longer depend on Europe for art. Europe no longer understands us. We are currently without a voice and I consider it a national emergency. America must be written. She longs to be articulated, she craves form and meaning."

Decided to write more. Yes! And better! Reminisced about theater class with Michael, practicing stage slaps and stage falls and stage screams.Went to bed early.

Friday
Took the train to Leipzig and went to an event put on by the Leipziger Volkszeitung and the American Consulate. Met His Excellency John C. Kornblum, who, as the American Ambassador to Germany, had started Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange in 1983. He was happy to see that the program was still going
on 26 years later.

Saturday
Attended the Leipziger Buchmesse until I physically couldn't move anymore, which happened around 1 p.m. It was super crowded. Funnily enough, as an avid bookreader, the book fair isn't quite my scene. I'm glad I went, but honestly I find book fairs ironic. Book readers and book writers tend to be really introverted, private people. Fairs are for people who like spectacle and noise. I imagine for writers it would be torture to go to a Buchmesse.

Felt guilty for speaking English all weekend. Read Jon McGregor's If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things in German on the train home.

Sunday
Today. Underachieved appropriately. Wrote an hour or two for the newsletter. Read Christopher Isherwood's The Berlin Stories.

Looked up kitty-corner: Schräg gegenüber. Not Kätzchenecke as privately hoped.

All things considered, not a bad week, though there was no room for grooving to electro this week.

Soon.

Weekend Highlights: Stadtgarten!

2010-03-14T07:01:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to Stadtgarten with Brian and his Arizonian partner-in-crime, Sofia.

I forgot my Fotoapparat again, so I'll give you this nice photo:

It was indie night and NATURALLY, they played Le Tigre the first time I went to the toilet and Crystal Castles the second time. A guy was handcuffed to the bathroom door handle and declined my offers to free him. Some people from Klingenthaler Weg, my old 'hood, were there and we danced together for a while. (I love being greeted by people I know when I'm out. I feel like the world's little darling!)

Katherine, Brian's fashionable roomie, had a clothing sale yesterday and I bought four things of hers. Two of them are dresses which, on me, will be sported as shirts.

I am supposed to translate something for Spirit of Football by tomorrow and do my homework for German and prepare my English lessons for the week. It's already 3. I should get on it.

Ohh, and Micha gets home today.

Is this a dream?

2010-03-13T03:49:00.000-08:00

I am always shocked at how gullible I am in dreams. Last night I really knew I was dreaming, but still couldn't manage to take control of the dream situation. I just let the dream walk all over me. What was I thinking? I could have leaped into the air and flown out the window if I'd wanted to. I could have grown eleven feet or ridden an elephant. But no, I chose to stay at home and do what other people said.

Here was the "story" of the dream: First, I woke up in my apartment in Erfurt. I went down the stairs. My step mom Brenda was sitting on the couch. That should have been the first clue right there. What is my step-mom doing in Germany? But I just accepted it. Then she told me that someone I loved had passed away and gave me a pile of forms to read through and fill out. I told her, look, we've been through this. I've had this awful dream so many times. She said, "What dream? This is real. You have to accept it." Brenda has a great deal of credibility in my mind so I just accepted it.

Then I had a curious idea. I turned to look at the door. I focused my eyes on the doorhandle. Suddenly, it began to turn. I concentrated on it. The screws began to loosen. It slowly came away from the door. I pulled the doorhandle off with my mind. Then I didn't know what to do with it. It floated there for a second.

Suddenly, something distracted me. Perhaps it was Brenda's voice, or another thought I'd had. The door handle sucked back into the door. Brenda began talking to me, but I kept staring at the door handle. The weight of the situation began to sink in. There was a lot of work to be done. Papers to sign. Old family freinds were coming over and someone was going to have to feed them. I glanced hopefully at the doorhandle but it wouldn't budge. Brenda seemed to know what I was thinking, and told me it was no use. Just the same as when I lived with her and Dad and I would check the status of the refrigerator every 20 minutes, hoping something delicious had materialized.

Since I couldn't unscrew the door handle with my mind again, I did as I was told. I had a lot of work to do. Family friends came over. I was upset. Everyone was upset. I made dinner. The person who had supposedly died came over for dinner too. No one seemed to think that was odd. As we were all talking about what we remembered about him, he even interrupted, "He always held a grudge against me." Someone rubbed his shoulder and said, "There, there. I'm sure that isn't true."

Then I woke up, thankful it had only been a dream but kicking myself for going along with the dream story instead of befriending a dragon, building a castle in the clouds or turning into a dolphin.

What a letdown.

Nachtsüber, part II

2010-03-10T13:23:00.000-08:00

"Übrigens fand ich Ihre Wortschöpfung 'nachtsüber' sehr

anerkennenswert. Warum nicht?"

-Frau Clayton, German instructor back in California, speaks up for my non-word nachtsüber, which cost me half a point on my German final exam here in Germany.

"Work"

2010-03-09T15:41:00.000-08:00

So, work's been treating me well. Everyone is prejudiced because I do my work for my internship at home. That seems to make it non-work. Everyone does air-quotes when they ask me if I worked today. Like, Anna, hast du heute viel "gearbeitet?"

Just after I began my internship with Spirit of Football (background info on that posted here), I became a little bit irrelevant because the two sites I was going to blog for, FourFourTwo and Todo-Aleman, both didn't need me anymore. What happened with the first one was that someone from a company called Substance PR who has one of Spirit of Football's partners as a client also pitched a blog to FourFourTwo on the same exact topic. And FourFourTwo went, "Well, Anna's doing that already, you should talk to her." And the guy from Substance sent me his work and I realized he actually knew things about football/soccer, and was using soccer words and quoting people I hadn't heard of, so I wrote him and said, "Look, just take it! You do it!" It's probably better for Spirit of Football to have someone who is interested in the sport write their blog for a sports site, I reasoned.

And I still had a regular writing assignment with the website Todo-Aleman, the trilingual project of the Goethe-Institut. I was to take over Andrew's blog there about The Ball's journey through Africa. However, after I sent my first post to them, they wrote back saying they didn't need me to write for them anymore and they would just link to Andrew's blog, theball.tv. I phoned them up and asked why, and Marcus from Todo-Aleman explained that with budget cuts it was necessary to cut down on the amount of staff who receives and edits work. It was cheaper to link to a site which would essentially say the same thing.

Then we got to talking and Marcus asked where I was even from anyway, and I said the States- California to be exact (exaggerated compliments were payed to my German, as is custom). Turns out Marcus has lived and worked in California. And he knows San Luis Obispo, my home town! It's pretty there, he said. I agreed. Then he asked what I was doing in Erfurt. I unloaded the unwieldy title Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange for Young Professionals. (Every time I say that I feel like I'm pulling a tuba out of a clarinet case and dropping it on the breakfast table!). He was familiar with the program. I explained a bit more about how I'd come to learn German and get interested in German culture, and he said that was the sort of thing they were interested in promoting at Todo-Aleman. (The site can be viewed in English, German or Spanish, and its target audience is young people in North and Latin America.) Then he asked me if I wouldn't mind writing a 5-part series about living abroad, starting with 2005 when I lived in the Swiss Alps. I agreed. It's really a more fitting subject for me to be writing about anyway.

The first episode, which I wrote in English, is being translated into German and Spanish and will be published on the site soon. Hopefully. I'll let you guys know. My three (3) loyal followers.

I was happy to get some sort of writing work, even if it was not related to my internship. However, I have also been doing things which are related to my internship! I've also been writing press release after press release, reporting on the progress of The Ball's pilgrimage to Johannesburg. The goal is the World Cup and there are, if I am correct, just 93 days left to go.

Recently I wrote to the British embassies in all of the African countries where The Ball will be passing through and requested that their Ambassador or High Commissioner meet with the Spirit of Footballers, perhaps attending an event with their partner, Special Olympics Africa. Some embassies haven't written me back, while others have been really keen. The High Commissioner in Zambia seemed really friendly and wrote a nice email about the power of sport to connect people from all different backgrounds. I should quote her on that.

Aside from my internship and random writing assignments, I am still working at the Erfurter Sprachschule, where I teach English. So far no one has noticed that I am not a teacher. Shh.

This evening I went to Übersee with Douglas and he brought an important fact to my attention: Unterrichtsstunden (instruction hours) are only 45 minutes long. Not 60. This entire time I have been adding them up as whole hours, meaning my 90 minute courses go down as an hour and a half, not two hours. I have been working there since November and I didn't know this. Fortunately I asked to be paid at the end of the courses, which meant I only added up my hours and gave them to my boss yesterday.

I just sent him a teensy little email, saying, "Oops-didn't know about the Unterrichtsstunden."

Off to dreamland. Sleep tight, Erfurt.

The Theatah. Dahling.

2010-03-08T15:30:00.000-08:00

Photo thanks to Katherine's Handy.

On Sunday I went to the Opera with InWent. The Merry Wives of Windsor in German. It was a bit more of a modern adaptation. Some caterpillars made out. That was my favorite part. Where is my Fotoapparat when I need it??

Mostly awake is slightly asleep

2010-03-06T09:23:00.000-08:00

Hello, dear readers. All two of you.

When I first awoke this morning I had this sentence in my head, clear as anything: "She went to a French school, where she drank blood from a paper cup." I don't know where that came from. I am crazy. Second spontaneous thought I had was: "I miss Sandercock Street."

It's true. And I miss Linnaea's Cafe. I miss Heather. I miss dollars. I miss falling asleep with my cat smothering my air supply. I miss the lady at Scolari's who always asked me how my cat was doing when I bought cat food. I miss Simpler Times beer. I miss Cooper cracking open a can and pretending to be in a commercial, saying campily, "When times are getting a little too complicated...reach for Simpler Times." I miss pouring latte art. I miss the beach. I miss having more friends around than I knew what to do with. I miss palm trees. I miss bonfires. I miss Mexican food. I miss random spontaneous gatherings in the shower. I miss reading by the creek. I miss staying in the pool all day when it was too hot to do anything else. I miss breakfast out on the porch in the sun.

Hijacking pool in empty apartment complex

But I'm still far from ready to go home to San Luis Obispo. I have so much more to do and see, so many more cool German words to learn. And I don't even have a place on Sandercock anymore. Unless you count my sister's place, where I will probably end up, penniless, begging for a scrap of carpet to sleep on. Cooper lives in San Francisco now. Nothing will be exactly as I remember it.

I had another German dream the night before last. I dreamt I got on the wrong train and there were only senior citizens in it. As the train drove off, I noticed that there was only one car to the train. I realized my error and started to panic. I asked the man next to me, "Where is this train going?" and he said, "Anywhere! That's the beauty of it. We don't know."

Strange shot of me grooving to electro with my sister Heather

Quirks

2010-03-03T04:17:00.000-08:00

Why do I always forget to eat? Why do I cook things and then walk away, then come back two hours later and find them? I did this again yesterday.

I suppose it's just a quirk. My youth pastor back in California (a long time ago) used to have a strange problem in which he would pick things up without noticing. If he was deep in a conversation, you could sneak up to him and put something in his hand and walk away, and he would grab it automatically and keep talking. Then 5 minutes later he would finally notice that he was holding a book/magic marker/rubber ducky, and would go, "All right-who did this? Who was it this time?" And all the kids would giggle.

I think it's something similar to that.

I also sometimes talk without meaning to. It's a problem. It's like sleep-talking, but without the sleeping part (speaking of which, get a load of this guy.) I just start mumbling what I'm thinking, (but I think I'm only thinking it) and then I notice people looking at me and I think, was I just talking? Or was I only thinking? And then someone goes, "What did you say?" And I scoff and go, "I didn't say anything."

Yesterday in the car back from Ikea, I was lost in thought and then I noticed Micha looking at me strangely and I thought, was I just talking out loud? And if so, what did I say? And in what language?

When I first got an ipod I had to listen with just one ear bud in, because if I listened with both I would accidentally start singing along in public!

I guess some people just have their heads in the clouds. Some of us say what we're thinking on accident, and some of us pick things up on accident. To paraphrase Elizabeth Gilbert, some of us have only one foot on the earth, and really, really long legs.

Dance Attack

2010-02-21T06:07:00.001-08:00

Erich came to visit me in Erfurt, the day before Max had to leave. Since there are only two tourist attractions in Erfurt (the Dom and the Krämerbrücke) Erich and I didn't have to stress out trying to stuff the weekend full of sightseeing. We toured the Dom, went to a Modern art exhibit, walked around Erfurt's medieval city center, ~~violated~~ snuggled the Sandmann, and then gave ourselves the night off...

Friday night was Max's last in Erfurt so we went out and grooved to electro with him and his younger brothers. Then we went back to my house at around 3 or 4 and I fed everyone...salad (but a good salad!). Erich thought the rug in the kitchen looked nice, so he curled up and went to sleep on it, right next to my feet. Max's brothers just stared at him, alarmed. I assured them multiple times that he was fine.

In the morning, Erich started an Africa puzzle and wouldn't go back to Potsdam until it was complete.

Naja.

The Handyman

2010-02-15T13:46:00.000-08:00

I got creeped on by the same Deutsche Telekom dude who always creeps when I need to reload my Handy (cell phones are called Handys!!) with more cash. The first time I encountered him he went, "Are you over 18?" I went, "Why is that important?" And he gave me this icky look for a second and went, "I'm just asking..." Then there was a pause as I entered my number in the PIN-pad and then he finally continued, "...because we have an Angebot for young people between the ages of blah and blah..."

A special offer? I'll bet you do. Ick.

Anyway, then he tried to sell me a 2-year contract and I had to explain that I would only be living in the country for 6 months, which proved an unfortunate conversation-starter, and we had to go through the old "But you speak such good German!/Oh, stop!/No, I mean it/Well...thanks!" song-and-dance before getting back to the point.

Then I pointed out that when one doesn't have a contract, one can choose how much or how little to talk and if you run out of money you don't have a bill to pay. He was convinced a contract would still be cheaper than loading my phone with cash all the time, and attempted to prove this by drawing some scribbles on a piece of paper, which I did not stress myself trying to interpret. I said if I could find someone else to take over the contract when I leave, I would look into it.

This was not a good thing to say because now whenever I go in there he says, "Aha. Still hasn't found someone."

Then today I peeked in and he didn't appear to be there, so I got in line. Then as I was waiting he slurked in from nowhere and said he could take the next customer.

"Hi-I'd-like-to-load-my-"

"So. Our biggest source of income. Still haven't found someone?"

"Nope!"

"How much?"

"15 Euros, please."

"You know, it's best if you just find a German boyfriend."

I toyed with the idea of making up a lie about my imaginary boyfriend already using Blau, but I think lies about boyfriends are for the desperate, so in reality I just gave him a filthy look and sniffed, "Yes. That does seem like a possibility," with the air of a second-grade science teacher dismissively acknowledging a student's pathetically improbable hypothesis. Then there was nothing to do but walk away, letting him marinate in his inappropriateness.

Funnily enough, after this weekend, this idea does seem like more of a possibility. But it has little, very little, to do with Deutsche Telekom.

New bedroom!

2010-02-09T12:31:00.001-08:00

This is the cute bed where I do my work, bzw. the cute desk where I dream.

(There's a miniature desk left behind which belongs to my boss' son Paul, but I kept it there in case I have very small friends over.)

Refried Brains

2010-02-04T02:44:00.000-08:00

The teacher drew a Fragezeichen (this: ?) next to some of my sentences, which kind of hurt my feelings. But for not having studied, I did well on my German exam: 1,3, or a 92%. Just one thing I need to know: is "nachtsüber" really not a word? Have I made this up? It was underlined in red pen and cost me half a point.

So, this week my classes finish, my internship starts, I take on a new private student at the language school where I work and I am moving. Panik ensues.

I am interning for the company Spirit of Football e.V. and am actually moving into my boss' house. But more on that later.

But most amazing of all: I dreamt in German last night. My first interactive German dream. In the other ones I heard German spoken and answered in English, but in this one I was really speaking German. I dreamt I went to jail for impersonating a policewoman.

Lass es dir schmecken!

2010-01-31T04:07:00.000-08:00

Theoretically, it's the same thing as guten Appetit, but at my place it has taken on a meaning of it's own, something akin to, "I'm going away now."

With no living room (or accompanying sense of community), the only time my roommates and I ever really see each other is in the kitchen as we are preparing food (the act of eating being performed here only within the sanctity of the bedroom). "Lass es dir schmecken!" is the last one hears before the other retreats to eat in private. The first time I heard this phrase I was so confused I had to ask for a repeat, even though I had understood the first time: Let it taste good to you? Okayyy. As if I had such control over my taste buds.

If I had to give this chapter of my life a title, it would be Lass Es Dir Schmecken, as that is the only thing one needs to say at my place.

But the time has come for me to move. Now that I know what it's like to live in a student dormitory I can say I have done my time. My work here is done. I have overcome the loneliness and uniformity and florescent lighting. I've outwitted the bedroom doors that lock automatisch, leaving one stranded without shoes, phone or jacket, leaning out the window and waiting until someone comes by who can call the Hausmeister.

The Waschmaschine that ate my money without giving change, beat and boiled my things to a pulp, somehow dyed them blue, and then barfed soapy water on the floor.

The long, lonely nighttime hobble home after dancing at Engelsburg or Stadtgarten, under the bridge and past the creepy park. (Vorsicht! Da hocken die Bösen!) The futile attempts to engage roomies in conversation. The interrogation about hand towel, er, Missbrauch (misuse). The Milchwerk just outside my window which does something loud with milk late into the night. God only knows what.

The adorable one from Nr. 1 who now pretends not to see me. What I have done to offend him remains a mystery.

So much I've been through!

The strange and unexpected kindness of a neighbor who actually knocked on my door and invited me to a lovely party at Christmastime-the lowest part of the year-proving there was life in the building after all.

The friendly brand-new roommate who actually eats in the kitchen, is charmingly disorganized, hangs his underwear over the radiator to dry and is here doing an internship with a puppet theater.

(On Friday, as he was running late to the theater, I opined that his boss would no doubt understand, since artist types aren't terribly punctual. He responded: "And German artists!?" I will miss him.)

All is being left behind, and I am moving across town to the cutest, coziest place ever with nice roommates who like to throw parties.

So. Aufwiedersehen, Klingenthaler Weg. Goodbye, loud milk factory. Goodbye, dear ones.

Aber Waschmaschine, wir sehen uns vielleicht später in der Hölle. Mach's gut und lass die Kleidung dir schmecken.

Unconventional Methods

2010-01-29T06:45:00.000-08:00

A series of accidents has had the loveliest of consequences.

Take for example my Praktikum, or internship.

My tutor happened to attend a party at an apartment where there happened to be a room for rent from February to mid-July, which is exactly when I needed a room, so she told me about it. When I saw the apartment I kind of fell in love with it, and when I was signing the 5 1/2-month rental agreements with the Hauptmieter (How do we call this? Main renter?) we got to talking.

He asked me what I was going to be doing while I was living there anyway, and I said supposedly making a Praktikum in Journalism and/or International Studies. Not that there was any hope. Finding an internship is a big requirement of my scholarship program, so I'd been looking hard, but with no luck.

My searches on praktikums-boerse.de gave me this: 'Sorry. There are no "internships" in "Journalism" in the state of "Thüringen, Germany."'

I'd been in contact with my exchange organization the day before, and they too had admitted there was no attainable work in Journalism in the entire state. Undefeated and chipper as ever, they'd suggested I work in Tourist Information, as a sort of practical use of my International Studies degree-in-progress. They could really use someone who spoke English, I was told. The thought of giving directions to lost tourists all day when I'd come to Germany wanting to become a travel writer more than underwhelmed me.

But back to Andrew's question. "Why do you ask?" I eventually said. "What are you doing while I'm living here?" Andrew the Hauptmieter said he was driving to South Africa with two men from his company, Spirit of Football, for the 2010 Soccer World Cup. The goal was to play football (okay, soccer) pretty much the entire way, but they would also be working with the African Special Olympics and the British charitable organization Alive & Kicking, visiting schools and distributing soccer balls to poor children. They would travel with just one ball, otherwise known as The Ball, "football's Olympic torch," which everyone could sign and play with. Their distant goal was to have The Ball be used in the Opening Ceremonies in Johannesburg.

Andrew needed someone who could write to chronicle the journey for him in the form of blogs and articles, someone who could speak for the project while he was off on his great African adventure. And I anticipate, someone who could work for free. This more or less described me.

I cancelled the tourist information jobs, came promptly back to Andrew's with more documents to be signed, and suddenly I had a Praktikum.

In the end, things worked out. The monthly stipend I receive from my exchange program to compensate for not getting paid is more than I would have hoped to have been paid anyway.

In the end I found an internship without even looking, without applying or interviewing, without using my carefully written and much-corrected application letter, and without using a word of my painstakingly-learned German. (Andrew is from New Zealand.) Plus I get to work from home, in this gorgeous apartment with vaulted ceilings and roommates who often share what they are eating.

But first I needed to move in, right? A word on that:

I moved in on Friday as Andrew was moving out. For some reason I had the worst trouble trying to move my things from my old apartment to my new one. I didn't have the keys to either for a couple of days and had to schedule moving at a time when someone at both places could be home and Katharina, my tutor, could give me a lift in her car. After a couple of failed attempts to coordinate a moving time, Katharina and I had settled on Friday afternoon. However, at the time when she was supposed to come by, I got a phone call from her instead.

She said, "Hi, sorry, I can't find my car."

Somehow this didn't register with me properly.

I went, "Oh-your car keys? You can't find your car keys?"

And she said,"Nooo, my car."

"...Keys?"

"No! I can't find my car. I don't know where I put it."

I imagined her rummaging through her bag, going, "It's around here someplace."

Just after that I got a call from my future ex-roommate who said he couldn't let me into the house anyway because his bike wheel was broken. He apparently had tried to walk home from his internship at the puppet theater, but then he didn't get far because he stepped in dog poop. He had to go back to the theater and bum a pair of shoes.

I expressed my condolences.

I decided to just "move in" to the new place with only the backpack I had with me and sort of bum it out until I could get my luggage from my old place. Then, just as I had gotten to the new place with my backpack, Max called to say he had made it back from the puppet theater and had decided I didn't need a car when I had the Straßenbahn (...tram?) and him to carry heavy things. So I came right back to my old house, but when I arrived he had disappeared around the corner to Kaufland, the local grocery store.

I met Max at Kaufland as he was finishing his purchases. We left the store with a shopping cart full of groceries. To my great horror, Max passed right by all the appropriate shopping cart put-away sectors and walked all the way home with the shopping cart.

After we put the groceries away, we ate some dinner. At Max's insistence that it would be all right, we discreetly loaded my heavy bags and suitcase into the shopping cart, steered it perilously down the hill to the Straßenbahn stop, and boarded the train to my new house, trying to make it appear as if we were NOT pushing, nor having anything to do with, a shopping cart. Transferring trains was awkward. I began to be terribly afraid and wondered if one could be arrested for stealing a shopping cart in Germany. I kept an eye out for officers of the law. We finally disembarked at my new stop, Justizzentrum. Justice Center.

As we guided the shopping cart out onto solid ground, an older woman on the train smiled and winked at me. And I moved in on Friday after all.

Ceremonial taping of my name onto the mailbox:

Author's note:

1. Katharina remembered where her car was: she had driven it to a friend's, where they'd had some drinks, so she took the Straßenbahn back and then didn't use her car for a while and thus forgot she'd left it there.

Zwischenseminar

2010-01-23T09:16:00.000-08:00

Just got back from my program's Mid-Year Seminar in Cologne. It was so strange to be in that city again, where I spent my first two months in Germany. Since everything is new to me this year, it seems like it was years ago that I first arrived in Cologne.

I took the U-Bahn to my former host mom's place, transferring nostalgically at Friesenplatz. The announcer voice on Linie 4 had changed to a more chipper, less jaded woman's voice, I noted sadly ("Umsteigenmöglichkeit zu: S-Bahn! Und. Regionalverkehr!"). I got off at Piustraße to familiar graffiti and waited the 5 minutes for the light to change. I began to feel nervous and clammy about coming back, but once my feet recognized the well-trodden ground, they started taking me there even faster. The soap smell inside the apartment building made me feel as if I had never left. It comes from the laundry facilities in the cellar. I climbed the stairs, suddenly unsure if I had lived on the 3rd or 4th floor, but my feet remembered.

I knocked on the door.

My host mom Ellen answered with a flood of greetings and informations (yes, informations), sweeping my coat off while informing me of all that had happened in the past 4 months (had it really only been that long?). In contrast to my first arrival in August, this time I had no problems understanding what she said, having all but conquered that accent.

We cooked dinner and split a bottle of red.

Ellen paid the obligatorisch complements to my German, adding that she'd heard no trace of an accent on the telephone earlier (Why do Germans always do this? I want to believe them, but they were already telling me how good my German was back when it was really terrible. Sometimes they jump the gun and tell me how good my German is without me even telling them that I am foreign, which makes one suspicious. I think the measure of one's language success in Germany is that the Germans stop complementing you).

I told her about Erfurt, about the seminar so far, about the tour we made of Deutsche Welle. I told her about how the program participants who had been in Model United Nations were asked to speak at the seminar, and since the seminar was in German and I was the first one who was given the mic, I thought it had to be in German. It was hard to describe the workings of the International Labour Conference in German, so all the words I didn't know I just said in English and kept going. Germans do the same thing to sound cool anyway ("Er war so eine easygoing person!" or, "Wir haben das party feeling wirklich erlebt!") Anyway, I talked for 5 minutes before they told me I could also speak in English and everyone laughed.

Babbling in German about Model UN. Film still thanks to Erich.

My friend Erich had the rare and unfortunate presence of mind to film this, but I couldn't watch the entire thing. I could see my brain working overtime and noticed myself making these little thinking breaks where there were clearly words missing.

After I said goodbye to my host mom I burst into tears, and then I went dancing at Underground in Ehrenfeld, where the music was okay.

Have I mentioned this already?

2010-01-17T07:05:00.000-08:00

As much as I enjoy living in Germany, I have to say I greatly look forward to coming home and having my own "secret language." I am beginning to fantasize more than a healthy amount about coming back to the States, going to the park or to a coffee shop and cracking open a hefty novel in German, which I will read very obviously and prominently. The first time I was able to read a book in German all by myself I started taking the thing with me on the train, in the Straßenbahn, into cafes, wherever I could be seen, thinking this way people would be "tricked" into thinking I was German. Kind of like when you're a child and you open a book and you let your eyes roll over the text for a while, hoping people will see you and assume you are actually reading.

Of course, the problem I had for a while was that wherever I took my book, my pocket dictionary had to come too so I could discreetly look up the hard words, which kind of defeated the purpose.