Flies in the Eyes of the Queen
Its just now Sunday. I've gone out the past four nights, and since this is somewhat a trend, my weeks here are divided as following: Sunday is recovery/homework day. Monday-Wednesday I have class. Then Thursday, Friday and Saturday I spent recovering from late nights, and I attempt to get errands/homework (ha!) done then also.
Thursday was Thanksgiving. I can't really remember what I did on the actual day, but I remember being in somewhat of a sour mood. Jacky and I went into town to look for stuff to wear to the EAP-hosted Thanksgiving Dinner (at one of the cafeterias on campus), and I felt just like the weather: gray and dreary.
Once at the dinner my mood brightened, and it was actually a good time. The food was good, and I got to have some good conversations with some folks. Almost all of the Californians were there, but I see probably at least half of them on a somewhat regular basis, so it wasn't really a big deal in that sense, but it was nice that we were all together. Our three teachers from ILP were also there, as well as Elke and Herr Keller (the EAP directors here), and a few "distinguished guests" who didn't mean really anything more to me than just some eldery Germans standing up and giving toasts in German. The highlight of the meal (besides merely eating a lot) was the video and resulting speech that Sean, Sam and Lee put together about the "real" meaning of Thanksgiving (something about Lee running around with a piece of fur as a loincloth, and Lee and Sean trapsing about in some forest in Goettingen). And after that they said a piece about how they were genuinely happy to be sharing the night with us all, and I know we were all smiling, having all understood the inside jokes in the video, and understanding that we were all in the same place right then. It was, for most of us, our first Thanksgiving away from home, or at least away from family, and we were all missing those from home who really mean something to us. For all the varying degrees of friendship that lie between us all, we were at least all there, all Americans celebrating a holiday whose significance is completely understandable to us alone.
The whole night I had been telling everyone to come to Nautilius (a bar) after the dinner, and I amazed myself by the plan actually panning out. So after a few hours spent mingling around with the Americans, a good group of us packed up and headed out. A few of us had to get our bikes from the other side of the building, so we went out a different door than the rest. As I pushed the door open, I started and then yelped, because I realized it was snowing. We all screamed and ran out and threw a rucus, us all laughing that the couple of Germans standing around must have thought we were insane. We wiped it off our bike seats and I kept exclaiming, It is snowing! I can't believe it's snowing! Then we rode and caught up with the rest of the group, and then Jacky and I threw our bikes down and made snow angels. We all finally ended up at Nautilius, where I proceeded to have my fill, and then sat and chatted it up with Herr Beilein. It was so strange to just be hanging out at a bar with Beilein and Droescher, two of the professors from ILP. Beilein is still my professor, because he is teaching the tutorium for my Thomas Mann class. I've never really had a student-teacher relationship before where you could go out with all your friends and have them come along and everyone drink and be merry together. It ended up being a really fun night.
When we came outside of Nautilus it was still snowing, and the snow had built up enough, so we had a mini snowball fight. Then a bunch of people went home, and the real ones proceeded on to the next bar. At Deja Vu I sat around with Beilein, Droescher, Tony, Jacky, Lee and British Tim. At around a quarter to five it was called a night, and I made my way home, my wet socks in my bag, flakes of snow blinding me. Every five minutes I would shout to Jacky, who was riding in front of me, that there was snow everywhere, and wasn't it amazing? I peddled fast because I was scared of frostbite, for my feet were stuck in a pair of completely soaked through shoes.
That night, Thanksgiving on a Thursday in Germany, was one of my favorites here in Goettingen. It is difficult to explain it now, a few days later, but on the way home Jacky and I threw our bikes down once more, this time on the lawn by the Bibliothek. We ran into the snow and tossed ourselves down, our cameras in the air. And riding home I was filled with such a breathtaking wonder at everything, not only at the snow but at what it represented: the difference here, the beauty in everything that I've really never known before. For those fifteen minutes I was completely in love with everything in the world. I can remember a stretch of that ride home: Peddling down Robert Koch Strasse, a weary body but whose eyes were still on fire. Jacky in front of me, a bit ahead maybe. Feeling: this is life. There is someone within earshot, but not at your side. It is you alone that is speeding through the world, and its you that is causing those wheels underneath you to move. You can look from side to side and see the same surroundings you have for what feels like a hundred times before, but it can all be completely new and fresh. And the snow on the ground is like something that was made just for you, a reminder of how although you are just the tiniest speck on the tiniest piece of ground in a truly immense world, that you and this life of yours are huge. The whizz of misaligned bike parts is the heartbeat of a life that seems to be speeding faster than you can process it. And for as much as you want to reach out and grab at everything, and hold it fast to you so that you can always keep it as a reminder, you realize that isn't how it works. The best you can do it is move with your eyes open, and your mouth closed so that you don't miss a single beat.
I was only able to get around four hours of sleep. Friday. I called Jacky and we made our way into town to the kitchen at the Studienzentrum (study center), two hours late for the turkey enchilada making party. What I expected to be a couple hours of help-a-brother-out ended up being a full day of warming tortillas in oil, stripping meat off turkey carcasses and standing around in a cramped kitchen with a few of my fellow Californians. Jacky and I had to ride back home to change and attempt to be somewhat presentable before we could get down to the party. Apparently every year it is a tradition for the Californian students to get together the night after Thanksgiving and sit around and eat the left-overs. What was before called the Left-Over Party was this year The California Party at Blue Note, a club at Wilhelmsplatz. I had expected the party to be somewhat lame, and it wasn't really a huge extravaganza, but it turned out a lot better than what I had expected of the organizational capabilities of my fellow Californians here in Germany. At first the party was mostly Americans and Erasmus students (Erasmus is the european-exchange program here), but I think as the night wore on there were more Germans as well. Another night of witnessing two of our German profs sit around and drink. The music, as it tends to be here, was generally pretty terrible, but there were enough times when it could be overlooked enough that us Americans got the dance floor going quite a number of times.
Saturday I didn't wake up until 2:30, but it didn't even feel like I'd gotten that much sleep, just because the length and quality of my sleep the previous three nights had been relatively poor. I was too hungry and tired to really get much done, but around five I finally got myself over to Jacky's, where we had dinner. Then we set off for town to get some errands done. Unfortunately everything closes so EARLY here that we weren't able to get all we wanted accomplished, but I did get a new bike lock, which was very necessary since I had lost mine Thanksgiving night with all the excitement with the snow (and so forth). So then Jack (as is now my nickname for Jacky) and I wandered around the Weinachtsmarkt until it was time to meet up with Steven. Once we found Steven, the three of us walked to Johanne's (Jacky's German buddy) house for our first Feuerzangenbowle party. Feuerzangenbowle is this traditional German holiday drink that is highly recommended by yours truly. You heat Gluehwein (which you will remember is "glowing wine"), and then put this tower of sugar on this little plate on top, and then you pour a bunch of rum on top of that, and then you set that on fire and let all the melty goodness seep in. We happened to be sitting at the table where the drink and the contraption it was forged in were laying, so in the end I think I ended up having more than my share. But it was sort of necessary to keep my hands doing something because the whole situation was slightly awkward. I thought it was going to be a party party, but it ended up being Johanne and her closest 20 friends... and then me, Steven and Jacky. So yeah, sort of weird. I did talk to a couple of girls for a bit, but we were stuck far enough away from everyone that it was too much to shout across, but the room was still small enough to make it feel like we should have been doing a lot more socializing that we were. Jacky and I ended up leaving around 11, because we were both tired and sort of not really in the mood for putting out a bunch of energy to befriend this set of people. I also wanted to get home before the hot water shut off so I could wash my face in hot water for the first time in four nights. I had also sort of been planning on meeting with up this guy I had met the night previous, but that didn't end up panning out, so home to try to get a decent nights rest. Anddd now I'm up late writing a blog entry. So it goes.
And on a somewhat unrelated note, I finally realized the problem with the dating culture here. My problem is that you can't go to a bar, or a party, or whatever, and just meet someone who you think would be cool to hang out with. If you show interest in someone, no matter what kind of interest, it gets construed that you'd want something more than just a friendship. So I can't just go out and make friends with guys, which is what I am desperately wanting to do. I don't want to DATE EVERYONE IN THIS CITY, I just want to make some friends who aren't American! And now I am worried that if that situation ever does arise, when someone does just want to chill, I am going to read more into it because that is what I am expecting of males here. Its really frustrating. You know, its not like I am getting hit on all the time or anything, but there definitely have been times where I've been somewhere with friends and later Keinst or Steven or someone will be like, SOOOO how were things with that Hungarian guy? And I'd be like, fine, what do you mean? ...Sigh. Alright, and then your logical response: well, don't go to bars and parties to meet friends, then. And when you say that, you give me the opportunity to say, no, dear reader, that ain't how it works here. Germans are a different breed altogether. They are less inclined to make chit chat, act friendly, or talk to you if they don't really want to. If they don't want to make friends with you, why waste their time talking to you? I don't mean to make Germans out to be mean race or something, because it does make a lot of sense when you think about it, but I just wasn't raised in a culture where that was acceptable. I realize more and more every day that that outgoing, friendly though often superficially friendliness is an american institution that has not yet made its way overseas.
Thursday was Thanksgiving. I can't really remember what I did on the actual day, but I remember being in somewhat of a sour mood. Jacky and I went into town to look for stuff to wear to the EAP-hosted Thanksgiving Dinner (at one of the cafeterias on campus), and I felt just like the weather: gray and dreary.
Once at the dinner my mood brightened, and it was actually a good time. The food was good, and I got to have some good conversations with some folks. Almost all of the Californians were there, but I see probably at least half of them on a somewhat regular basis, so it wasn't really a big deal in that sense, but it was nice that we were all together. Our three teachers from ILP were also there, as well as Elke and Herr Keller (the EAP directors here), and a few "distinguished guests" who didn't mean really anything more to me than just some eldery Germans standing up and giving toasts in German. The highlight of the meal (besides merely eating a lot) was the video and resulting speech that Sean, Sam and Lee put together about the "real" meaning of Thanksgiving (something about Lee running around with a piece of fur as a loincloth, and Lee and Sean trapsing about in some forest in Goettingen). And after that they said a piece about how they were genuinely happy to be sharing the night with us all, and I know we were all smiling, having all understood the inside jokes in the video, and understanding that we were all in the same place right then. It was, for most of us, our first Thanksgiving away from home, or at least away from family, and we were all missing those from home who really mean something to us. For all the varying degrees of friendship that lie between us all, we were at least all there, all Americans celebrating a holiday whose significance is completely understandable to us alone.
The whole night I had been telling everyone to come to Nautilius (a bar) after the dinner, and I amazed myself by the plan actually panning out. So after a few hours spent mingling around with the Americans, a good group of us packed up and headed out. A few of us had to get our bikes from the other side of the building, so we went out a different door than the rest. As I pushed the door open, I started and then yelped, because I realized it was snowing. We all screamed and ran out and threw a rucus, us all laughing that the couple of Germans standing around must have thought we were insane. We wiped it off our bike seats and I kept exclaiming, It is snowing! I can't believe it's snowing! Then we rode and caught up with the rest of the group, and then Jacky and I threw our bikes down and made snow angels. We all finally ended up at Nautilius, where I proceeded to have my fill, and then sat and chatted it up with Herr Beilein. It was so strange to just be hanging out at a bar with Beilein and Droescher, two of the professors from ILP. Beilein is still my professor, because he is teaching the tutorium for my Thomas Mann class. I've never really had a student-teacher relationship before where you could go out with all your friends and have them come along and everyone drink and be merry together. It ended up being a really fun night.
When we came outside of Nautilus it was still snowing, and the snow had built up enough, so we had a mini snowball fight. Then a bunch of people went home, and the real ones proceeded on to the next bar. At Deja Vu I sat around with Beilein, Droescher, Tony, Jacky, Lee and British Tim. At around a quarter to five it was called a night, and I made my way home, my wet socks in my bag, flakes of snow blinding me. Every five minutes I would shout to Jacky, who was riding in front of me, that there was snow everywhere, and wasn't it amazing? I peddled fast because I was scared of frostbite, for my feet were stuck in a pair of completely soaked through shoes.
That night, Thanksgiving on a Thursday in Germany, was one of my favorites here in Goettingen. It is difficult to explain it now, a few days later, but on the way home Jacky and I threw our bikes down once more, this time on the lawn by the Bibliothek. We ran into the snow and tossed ourselves down, our cameras in the air. And riding home I was filled with such a breathtaking wonder at everything, not only at the snow but at what it represented: the difference here, the beauty in everything that I've really never known before. For those fifteen minutes I was completely in love with everything in the world. I can remember a stretch of that ride home: Peddling down Robert Koch Strasse, a weary body but whose eyes were still on fire. Jacky in front of me, a bit ahead maybe. Feeling: this is life. There is someone within earshot, but not at your side. It is you alone that is speeding through the world, and its you that is causing those wheels underneath you to move. You can look from side to side and see the same surroundings you have for what feels like a hundred times before, but it can all be completely new and fresh. And the snow on the ground is like something that was made just for you, a reminder of how although you are just the tiniest speck on the tiniest piece of ground in a truly immense world, that you and this life of yours are huge. The whizz of misaligned bike parts is the heartbeat of a life that seems to be speeding faster than you can process it. And for as much as you want to reach out and grab at everything, and hold it fast to you so that you can always keep it as a reminder, you realize that isn't how it works. The best you can do it is move with your eyes open, and your mouth closed so that you don't miss a single beat.
I was only able to get around four hours of sleep. Friday. I called Jacky and we made our way into town to the kitchen at the Studienzentrum (study center), two hours late for the turkey enchilada making party. What I expected to be a couple hours of help-a-brother-out ended up being a full day of warming tortillas in oil, stripping meat off turkey carcasses and standing around in a cramped kitchen with a few of my fellow Californians. Jacky and I had to ride back home to change and attempt to be somewhat presentable before we could get down to the party. Apparently every year it is a tradition for the Californian students to get together the night after Thanksgiving and sit around and eat the left-overs. What was before called the Left-Over Party was this year The California Party at Blue Note, a club at Wilhelmsplatz. I had expected the party to be somewhat lame, and it wasn't really a huge extravaganza, but it turned out a lot better than what I had expected of the organizational capabilities of my fellow Californians here in Germany. At first the party was mostly Americans and Erasmus students (Erasmus is the european-exchange program here), but I think as the night wore on there were more Germans as well. Another night of witnessing two of our German profs sit around and drink. The music, as it tends to be here, was generally pretty terrible, but there were enough times when it could be overlooked enough that us Americans got the dance floor going quite a number of times.
Saturday I didn't wake up until 2:30, but it didn't even feel like I'd gotten that much sleep, just because the length and quality of my sleep the previous three nights had been relatively poor. I was too hungry and tired to really get much done, but around five I finally got myself over to Jacky's, where we had dinner. Then we set off for town to get some errands done. Unfortunately everything closes so EARLY here that we weren't able to get all we wanted accomplished, but I did get a new bike lock, which was very necessary since I had lost mine Thanksgiving night with all the excitement with the snow (and so forth). So then Jack (as is now my nickname for Jacky) and I wandered around the Weinachtsmarkt until it was time to meet up with Steven. Once we found Steven, the three of us walked to Johanne's (Jacky's German buddy) house for our first Feuerzangenbowle party. Feuerzangenbowle is this traditional German holiday drink that is highly recommended by yours truly. You heat Gluehwein (which you will remember is "glowing wine"), and then put this tower of sugar on this little plate on top, and then you pour a bunch of rum on top of that, and then you set that on fire and let all the melty goodness seep in. We happened to be sitting at the table where the drink and the contraption it was forged in were laying, so in the end I think I ended up having more than my share. But it was sort of necessary to keep my hands doing something because the whole situation was slightly awkward. I thought it was going to be a party party, but it ended up being Johanne and her closest 20 friends... and then me, Steven and Jacky. So yeah, sort of weird. I did talk to a couple of girls for a bit, but we were stuck far enough away from everyone that it was too much to shout across, but the room was still small enough to make it feel like we should have been doing a lot more socializing that we were. Jacky and I ended up leaving around 11, because we were both tired and sort of not really in the mood for putting out a bunch of energy to befriend this set of people. I also wanted to get home before the hot water shut off so I could wash my face in hot water for the first time in four nights. I had also sort of been planning on meeting with up this guy I had met the night previous, but that didn't end up panning out, so home to try to get a decent nights rest. Anddd now I'm up late writing a blog entry. So it goes.
And on a somewhat unrelated note, I finally realized the problem with the dating culture here. My problem is that you can't go to a bar, or a party, or whatever, and just meet someone who you think would be cool to hang out with. If you show interest in someone, no matter what kind of interest, it gets construed that you'd want something more than just a friendship. So I can't just go out and make friends with guys, which is what I am desperately wanting to do. I don't want to DATE EVERYONE IN THIS CITY, I just want to make some friends who aren't American! And now I am worried that if that situation ever does arise, when someone does just want to chill, I am going to read more into it because that is what I am expecting of males here. Its really frustrating. You know, its not like I am getting hit on all the time or anything, but there definitely have been times where I've been somewhere with friends and later Keinst or Steven or someone will be like, SOOOO how were things with that Hungarian guy? And I'd be like, fine, what do you mean? ...Sigh. Alright, and then your logical response: well, don't go to bars and parties to meet friends, then. And when you say that, you give me the opportunity to say, no, dear reader, that ain't how it works here. Germans are a different breed altogether. They are less inclined to make chit chat, act friendly, or talk to you if they don't really want to. If they don't want to make friends with you, why waste their time talking to you? I don't mean to make Germans out to be mean race or something, because it does make a lot of sense when you think about it, but I just wasn't raised in a culture where that was acceptable. I realize more and more every day that that outgoing, friendly though often superficially friendliness is an american institution that has not yet made its way overseas.
posted by Meredesu at 2:33 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home