Finding my apartment was a piece of chocolate compared to the infamous "Amity-and-Sophie-are-repeatedly-thwarted-by-the-public-transport-system-on-the-way-to-Heidelberg" Incident of 2009. In Round II (the 2011 and sadly without Amity version) my landlord met me at the train stop and immediately warned me that whenever I walk down the street anyone who happens to be out trimming the hedges will stare at me because the whole neighborhood will be wondering who the new arrival is. This is rather surprising for a city of 200,000 which, thought small for a city, is still substantial enough to render the arrival of a newcomer to be noteworthless (get it?). Anyways the short and short is that I am now confined to my apartment.
With that introduction, I would now like to venture into the topic German hospitality. I discovered today that the elderly are not, as is widely purported, to be trusted in this particular realm of social interaction. It all happened when I decided to go to church. Praising our Lord and Savior on the Holy Day is generally a secure venture and thus I ventured. The internet led me to a church in the north part of the city. I walked in and set down and was immediately put to ease by an old lady who welcomed me and told me all about her stepson from Texas and that we should have coffee together after the service. Very grandmotherly. The organ then chimed in, bleated out a welcome song, quieted the congregation and led me to begin feeling quite at home in Mainz. That's the thing about organ music; it lures one to a false sense of security through it's echos of the pre-post-modern world; more about post-modernity and it's predecessors another time.
The song comes to a close and my new friend assumes the pulpit. Turns out that she is the master of ceremonies, opening in prayer and welcoming the congregation. She reports on the flock, alluding to a former church member who has moved to Mexico. Then the thought of North America reminds her of a very recent encounter she just had with another North American. And then before I know what's happening the MC is sharing that I am the selfsame American and requests that I stand up and be officially welcomed to church in Germany. In front of everyone. Seriously, it felt like the whole country was staring at me. I just did a quick shot up into the air and back down to my seat, by everyone saw that I was embarrassingly lobster colored. My Massachusetts pride was shining though.
Except for the elderly, everyone here has been really quite wonderful to me. My roommates are three girls/ladies who have already brought me over to a friend's house and fed me pretzles, half of the city of Mainz has assisted in correcting my false interpretations of public transportation maps, and no one has yet laughed when I try to say 'wurst'.
Which reminds me of one final thing: there is a restaurant downtown called "Best Wurst". Just think about it for a second...
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Journey
Well for starts we were being flown over the Atlantic by someone named Captain Pfeffer.
This gave me a good chuckle but not the best chuckle. The best chuckle came from the in-flight entertainment. For some reason, and that reason is the immanent takeover of the world market by Chinese economic policy, the Chinese subtitles would not turn off. Every single TV and every single program was stuck on Chinese subtitles. Suspicious right? A particularly triumphant moment for the Chinese was when the elderly lady in front of me got her television stuck on Gnomeo and Juliet (in Chinese naturally) including all of the television controls, and no one, including the entertainment-system-trained stewardess and the tech saavy Italian children sitting across the isle, could figure out which button was the exit button and kept hitting the wrong one, thusly ensnaring themselves ever deeper into the labyrinth which we call technology.
Upon arrival in the 'Schland I nearly got trapped in a broken train station elevator with an elderly German Opa only to be rescued by a clever young chap who realized that the door was jammed by an entertainment magazine. This is why we should not read entertainment magazines and we should all known clever young chaps.
Then I arrived at the youth hostel, dropped my bags (though not of my own volition, my arms literally just forfeited. they could pull no longer) and headed for downtown Köln in search of the giant poster of the Pope, which was hanging larger-than-life on the side of the cathedral. It said "Wilkommen in Deutschland". I thought it was very considerate of him, to welcome me in such a public manner.
This morning I took the subway (pronounced Eww Bahn, which is just some good ol' fashioned German fun) back to the train station. It did not smell of deodorant. This means it smelled of odorant, eau de subways world wide.
Sorry that was very scattered and much more about China than Germany. Regardless, I made it!
This gave me a good chuckle but not the best chuckle. The best chuckle came from the in-flight entertainment. For some reason, and that reason is the immanent takeover of the world market by Chinese economic policy, the Chinese subtitles would not turn off. Every single TV and every single program was stuck on Chinese subtitles. Suspicious right? A particularly triumphant moment for the Chinese was when the elderly lady in front of me got her television stuck on Gnomeo and Juliet (in Chinese naturally) including all of the television controls, and no one, including the entertainment-system-trained stewardess and the tech saavy Italian children sitting across the isle, could figure out which button was the exit button and kept hitting the wrong one, thusly ensnaring themselves ever deeper into the labyrinth which we call technology.
Upon arrival in the 'Schland I nearly got trapped in a broken train station elevator with an elderly German Opa only to be rescued by a clever young chap who realized that the door was jammed by an entertainment magazine. This is why we should not read entertainment magazines and we should all known clever young chaps.
Then I arrived at the youth hostel, dropped my bags (though not of my own volition, my arms literally just forfeited. they could pull no longer) and headed for downtown Köln in search of the giant poster of the Pope, which was hanging larger-than-life on the side of the cathedral. It said "Wilkommen in Deutschland". I thought it was very considerate of him, to welcome me in such a public manner.
This morning I took the subway (pronounced Eww Bahn, which is just some good ol' fashioned German fun) back to the train station. It did not smell of deodorant. This means it smelled of odorant, eau de subways world wide.
Sorry that was very scattered and much more about China than Germany. Regardless, I made it!
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
J Kids.
Actually, I know more than that. So here's the scoop, or as they say in German "der Schöpflöffle". Pause: That means ladle in German. It was a linguistic joke that I just made with myself completely unintended for your use and also kind of emarassingly revealing. Let's get on with the program, shall we?
Good question; I've been asking myself the same one for years but cheer up, eventually you'll discover that if you just smile at everyone and drink enough coffee, no one will catch on to the fact that you're completely baffled by life. Setting aside the larger question and focusing on the immediate, I am teaching English to middle/high schoolers at a German school in the town called Ingelheim am Rhein. It's in the German province of Rheinland-Pfalz which lies on the western side of Germany near France and also appears to be alarmingly blue.
Where am I living?
In the city of Mainz, which I know nothing about except that the Mainzer locals are big into Fasching, which is European holiday during which everyone wears clown wigs and eats donuts. Here is my address, but postage to Europe as astronomical so don't mail me anything except for peanut butter and cash. That was a joke.
The Program
What am I doing?
Good question; I've been asking myself the same one for years but cheer up, eventually you'll discover that if you just smile at everyone and drink enough coffee, no one will catch on to the fact that you're completely baffled by life. Setting aside the larger question and focusing on the immediate, I am teaching English to middle/high schoolers at a German school in the town called Ingelheim am Rhein. It's in the German province of Rheinland-Pfalz which lies on the western side of Germany near France and also appears to be alarmingly blue.
Where am I living?
In the city of Mainz, which I know nothing about except that the Mainzer locals are big into Fasching, which is European holiday during which everyone wears clown wigs and eats donuts. Here is my address, but postage to Europe as astronomical so don't mail me anything except for peanut butter and cash. That was a joke.
Sophia Buchanan
Nordstraße 18 a
55131 Mainz
Germany
Nordstraße 18 a
55131 Mainz
Germany
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