what's your favorite color and do you believe in god

What would you do if you found a frozen mammoth?

I think we all come to this question at some point in our lives. Well, at least some king or duke or other really old authority figure did, according to my friend.  And just what did he do with this massive chunk of animal ice?  He had it thawed out, cooked to perfection, and then he ate the giant, ancient mammoth. This makes me wonder just how long it takes to thaw a frozen mammoth... and how many people it takes to eat one... and how one manages to cook an animal that massive.  In any case, the people of the old days were very crafty and found a way to achieve all of these things.  The one question that remains, however, is: Was that that the right thing to do? The mammoths had been long extinct by this time. Should the king/duke have saved it in the name of history, preservation, or science? Or was he justified in eating it?

Well, I think really everyone would answer that question differently.  Me? Short answer: I would have eaten it, too.  Long answer: First I would have put it on display in the town square and charged people to get their pictures taken with it. Then, I would have eaten it. Why would I do such a thing, you ask? How could I have chosen to eat something with such prominent, historical authority?  Because, my friends, I believe that history is meant to be consumed, not preserved.  Figuratively speaking, of course.  We should be able to see it, smell it, touch it, taste it, and learn from it, but, at least from my perspective, we shouldn't try to make history live on, we shouldn't try to revive it, we shouldn't hold on to it, no matter how inspiring or beautiful or painful it may have been. Because everything deserves to rest peacefully.

The reason I bring this up is because I just spent the last week in former East Germany, being force-fed facts about things such as Goethe's favorite tree and how he dug up (what he thought was) his best friend's skull and put it on his desk. And, quite honestly, I don't think those little details make his work any more or any less impressive. Regardless, during my time spent in this cultural and historic hub of Germany, I was graced with the opportunity not only to hear many of such facts, but also to consume, reflect upon, and actively live in the historical space in which all of these things took place.

During the trip, which is a part of the Tufts-in-Tübingen Program, we were all given an individual host family to live with. My host family was particularly spectacular - my father spoke solely in jokes and my mother hung random things like peacock kites on the walls.  The first day I arrived, my mother and I sat together in the living room for three hours, and she told me what it was like to live in the DDR. It was immediately clear how much the DDR time still affects the people living in former East Germany. My host family was very lucky, in that they always had jobs, a secure place to live, etc., both before and after the reunification. But my host mother explained to me that there are still many people in the east that are extremely bitter toward the west (and, I'm sure people in the west bitter toward the east, as well). But like I said, trying to live in history isn’t doing anyone any good.

Here is a quick summary of the trip:

Day 1 - Jena

The first real day of our excursion consisted of visiting a local school to talk with students in the English classes, taking a tour of Jena, and stopping for a few coffee breaks (because coffee is warm, and Germany is cold).  At the school, Kenneson and I had the pleasure of chatting with the fifth graders, who asked us questions ranging from “What’s your favorite color?” to “Do you believe in God?,” in their already spectacular English.  One of the sassy little girls made a friendship bracelet for me as an early birthday gift.  It reminded me of Molly and Osrui and hair wraps. Later, after our first quick coffee break, we had a tour of Jena.  Unfortunately, because of my (already demonstrated) lack of interest for detailed history and quickly diminishing attention span, I’m not such a tour person. So this made pretty much every day of the excursion quite a challenge. However, what I do find quite interesting about tours is not what the tour guide says about the past, but what the things he’s telling us about the past tells us about the present and what that will mean for the future.  If you catch my drift.. (still really great at these English colloquialisms…)

Day 2: Buchenwald, Erfurt

As you can probably imagine, Buchenwald was kind of a downer. Visiting the former concentration camp was an opportunity for reflection and remembrance.  It wasn’t an experience that can be written on paper (or typed in a blog) or captured in pictures.  Because these visuals can’t accurately replicate the atmosphere at Buchenwald, the eeriness, the feeling of walking on the soil where so many crimes to humanity occurred, the stillness of the cold air, and the absolute silence of the voices that were never heard.  If you’re interested, you can see photos of Buchenwald (and the rest of the trip) here.

Luckily, the beauty of Erfurt was an upper.  It’s a city I would love to visit again.  While having the charm of a typical German town with the cute little buildings and a river running through the center of the city, Erfurt also has a more commercial section.  In Erfurt, we visited what is easily the most gorgeous church I have ever seen. Inside lies the largest church bell in the world from the middle ages, Gloriosa, which is large enough for probably 12-15 people to stand under.

Later that night, Chris’s guest parents invited us over for dinner, and we talked more about the DDR and nylon bags and standing in line for bananas.  After dinner, Chris’s guest father took us to a place where he used to play as a child and read us the Erlkönig (Goethe) in front of a statue of, well, the Erlkönig.  It was dark and scary and cold outside, and at first I didn’t really understand what we were doing as the car stopped at the destination in the middle of the woods.  Yes, I was scared. But it turned out to be, perhaps, the coolest and most authentic experience I’ve had yet in Germany.  The story really came alive.

Day 3: Weimar, another Castle, salt thing

Weimar was yet another beautiful city. In my free time in Weimar, I got to see Goethe’s house and the Bauhaus Museum (which I thought was really awesome, but unfortunately small).  It was really cute because the guided audio tour in Goethe’s house kept trying to validate Goethe’s hoarding tendencies… “This room would have been full of pictures and statues, much like the holding room in a museum. But Goethe didn’t like to have things simply for the sake of having things…”  Okay, enough, really. He probably would have been on one of those hoarding reality shows, except for having too many statues of human heads instead of like millions of cats.

That night, we had a Thanksgiving dinner in Jena, which was executed surprisingly well.  It was cozy to sit down with all of the guest families and eat an enormous turkey, just like we would have with our real families back in the US.  I felt really lucky to have the opportunity to be surrounded by such beautiful and warm people on a day that was so special to me.

Day 4: Leipzig

By this time, I was so exhausted from the trip that my attention span was practically non-existent, and I absorbed little-to-nothing from the city tour.  We did have lunch at this really great Thai restaurant, though, that actually had spicy food (a rarity in Germany).  Then we went to this fascinating museum about the history of Germany (a must-see if you’re planning a trip to Leipzig).  After that, we had another coffee break (typical), and then drove to a castle to have dinner.  Oh yeah, and this was my birthday. So the best part was that there was a dog at the castle named Bruno and I got to pet him.  I really couldn’t have asked for more.

Overall, the trip was exhausting, informative, and insightful.  Over and over, I kept flashing back to my high school German class, where Jena was just a place on the map that was spelled similarly to my name. Never did I think that I would be one of the people on the streets, in the trains, on the buses, of that foreign city called Jena on that little map of Germany. You can’t ever really know where life is going to take you – you just have to be ready to go.

die Präsidentenwahl 2012

One of the strongest deterrents in my decision to study for a year abroad was the idea of missing out on the political atmosphere in the US during the first presidential election in which I was allowed to vote.  I guess as some form of patriotism, it only seemed right that I would actually, physically be in my own country the first time I voted for the president of my own country.

Now, I'm not sure if that little detail is actually as important as it once seemed.  In fact, I think it might have even been more beneficial to be abroad during the time leading up to the election.  Somehow, I feel like I had the privilege of looking at the candidates through a much clearer lens than I would have if I were in the US.  No, I don't suggest that the cloudiness and deception that often occurs in political news was somehow washed away by the waves of the Atlantic, but when I did read, hear, or watch something pertaining to the election, I had the opportunity to reflect upon it independently, instead of being pummeled by potentially exaggerated or extremely biased reactions cycloning around me.

It has also been incredibly enlightening hear opinions about both Romney and Obama from people all over the world.  The outcome of this election affects far more than just Americans, and the small sample of Europe that I've conversed with seems to be at a consensus on which candidate they think should take the throne.

With the election just days away, every second counts.  Every single move Romney and Obama make is being meticulously picked apart by the press, the people, and, rater unfortunately, the opposing candidate.  What has perhaps become most clear to me throughout this election is exactly why the decision-making process in our country is more of a fight (at times, war), than a compromise for the good of the many.

Watching the presidential debates has been almost impossible.  Every interruption, every cry of the falsity of the other candidate's claim, every comeback, put-down, and attempt to slash the opponent's reputation in whatever way possible rapidly made me lose respect for both candidates. Their behavior literally drowned out whatever messages they may have been trying to send about their plans for the future. It also led me to question how either of these men, as president, would conduct himself as a representative of our country in an international situation which requires them to defend the US and their decisions, when they couldn't even do that for themselves in front of the American people - the people who are watching their every move, using that as a basis to decide their future - without bickering like children.

The press doesn't give political reports without clearly identifying the party affiliated with a certain opinion or quote.  As if being Democrat or Republican is more important than the individual's opinion on a topic.  The candidates' websites, at times, concentrate more on why their opponent is wrong than what they are going to do for our country.  This political culture in America, which concentrates so heavily on the faults of the opponents rather than the advantages of the candidates, is not encouraging us to vote based on capability, reliability, and faith in a candidate, but rather to abstain from voting for the [more] incapable and unreliable candidate. In other words, we're avoiding the worst instead of electing the best.

The negativity on which politics in America run today is breeding competition.  And I'm no expert, but I can only assume that a country would function better by working together, rather than ripping each other apart. That said, I hope that on voting day, you (Americans) choose not to see the election terms of red and blue.  I hope that you have acquainted yourselves with the character, the capability, the platforms (not to mention the practical feasibility of the platforms), and the potential of both Mr. Obama and Mr. Romney. I hope that you acknowledge the power of your vote, have thoroughly thought through what consequences your vote will bring to the American people (and the rest of the world..), and have not simply made your decision based on the Red-Blue/Elephant-Donkey/Right-Left, hostility-breeding, political back-and-forth in which we have been fermenting, but rather according to your specific personal values and how the candidates align with those values.

Note:  For those who are still looking for an unbiased and factual summary of the two candidates in terms of the feasibility of their promises, their character, and their advantages and disadvantages in general, click here for a very well-written article from The Economist.

kaffee oma

I've been experiencing some very real struggles during my past two months in Tübingen, one of them being blog-writing.  It's not that I'm not inspired or that I'm not doing anything exciting or not even that I don't have time to write blogs.  I have plenty of time, actually.  And I sit down and try to write...and try to write...and try to write... But the words don't come quickly enough.  Or sometimes I can't find the right word.  So then I try to think of a word that would be more fitting, and only after replacing the first word, do I realize that the "more fitting" word is in German, not English. And it's driving me CRAZY. Not being able to speak English very well isn't so bad.  I've never been very good at communicating verbal messages, anyway, so the struggle has just been mildly intensified.  But not being able to clearly express what I'm thinking or feeling in writing is totally driving me up the wall.

That said, please excuse any funny-sounding sentences or strange word placements.  They are bound to occur.

So what has happened in the past month/since my last blog post?  Basically, classes have begun, I've had a couple miniature adventures, and I've been in contact with many sharp objects.

Let's start with courses.  I'm visiting two lectures - European Economic Integration (in English) and An Introduction to the History and Culture of the Middle East (or, as the professor explained to us on the first day, "An Introduction to the Language, History, and Culture of the Middle East"... looks like I'm going to be learning some Arabic).  And that one is in German, which is fun because after the standard ca. 45 minutes of being engaged, I tune out and don't really hear anything for the second half of class.  So we'll see how that goes. Besides that, I'm taking a course about formulating arguments, having discussions, and making presentations, which I think will be really useful.  Also, I'm doing two studio art courses - portrait sketching and ceramic.  My ceramics professor told us that our project for the semester was just to make something big, which I dig.  Still trying to decide what I like enough to try to make into a two-foot sculpture.  In any case, I am very happy with my courses thus far, especially because they don't begin before noon, and I don't have any on Monday or Friday.  The mother of a wise friend of mine once said not to let school get in the way of your education.  I'm excited that I will have plenty of time to explore and discover in addition to my studies.

So what would a typical four-day weekend look like?  I hope that at least a few will be consumed by longer, overnight, perhaps out-of-country trips, but the most will probably be spent much like this weekend.  Friday, we decided to make a trip to see Schloss Lichtenstein.  This required taking a train for approximately 10 minutes, a bus for no less than 30 minutes, and then getting off at a bus stop in the middle of a field, wandering down a nearby path, and then hiking through the woods for about 1.5 hours with little to no direction before finally stumbling upon the majestic castle they call Lichtenstein.  No less than a hike, it was, but the beauty of the Autumn leaves falling from the trees and crunching beneath our boots proved to be an experience just as pleasing as seeing the castle itself.  After returning back to Tübingen completely exhausted, Loren and Charles threw a Raclette dinner party. There's something really powerful about it when friends share a very typical part of their life with you, when you experience it together.  Even after the simple Raclette party, I felt somehow closer to both Loren and Charles.

The next morning, I awoke to a freezing room, and when I turned my head toward my still-open window (also the direction of my still-off heating unit), my eyes were greeted by the sight of white, flaky sprinkles falling from the sky and powdering the roof of the building right next to ours.  It continued to snow the entire day on Saturday, but unfortunately almost none stuck to the streets of Tübingen (at least in the city itself).  In honor of Halloween, Chris and I invited a few friends over to carve pumpkins on the kitchen table.  I must admit, it was a little dangerous using kitchen knives as carving tools, but no one got hurt (yes, this is one of my encounters with sharp objects... I began to carve a bit hastily, but before I could cut myself, my dear friends encouraged me to stop).  We separated the seeds from the pulp and baked them, just like home.  I also bought small, cooking pumpkins and improvisationally made two delicious pies, one of which I took to Vittorio's dinner party that night.  Not that we needed any more food.  Vittorio, being the fabulous chef that he is, had already prepared a three-course meal, which was served in only the classiest of fashions, with the little garnishes that you aren't supposed to eat.  He lives a bit outside of Tü in a real house with a real table, real dishes, and real wine glasses.  I can't serve wine out of coffee mugs anymore.  It just doesn't feel right after that level of sophistication.  In any case, it was delicious food and wonderful company.  Vittorio and his friend/roommate told us tales about the Schwäbisch man that lives above them and sometimes invites them to drink with him outside.  Vittorio's friend said that even though he can't understand anything the Schwäbisch man says, the man is still his best German friend....and even though the man just drinks all day and shoots deer, he know's he's a good person because "he does it with a beautiful smile on his face."  It was a great night.

I got home at about 2am this morning and had to wake up at 7am in order to be at the soup kitchen by 8.30.  Not knowing whether the clocks were going to turn an hour forward or an hour backward (or if my phone would do it automatically...), I waited up until 3am to see for myself.  Luckily for me, they went backward (of course.), and I was allowed five hours of sleep instead of three. At 8.30 punctually, I was at the soup kitchen with my sleeves rolled up and ready for action.  It was fun to get to know the different characters in the kitchen and to listen to them yell at each other and speak in Schwäbisch.  There are a particular few that I found especially endearing.  

First: Gisella.  Gisella is the boss, the big man.  She likes to yell at people and tell them what they're doing wrong and how they should do it better.  I like her because she has everything under control, and she won't let anyone mess things up.  She yelled at me because I took the dishes out of the dishwasher too early by like five seconds.  She's really great.

Then there's Kaffee Oma.  I don't know what her real name is because I can't understand anything she says to me, but I call her Kaffee Oma in my head.  As you might have guessed, she brews the coffee.  She's super duper sweet and blabbered to me all day.  It went like this:  She would tell me to come over to her and then point at a dish or pot or pan or something, say something in Schwäbisch, and then look at me.  I would look back at her with an eyebrow up, look from side to side, shrug my shoulders, then try to finish whatever I was doing before.  Then she would grab my arm and drag me around the kitchen, showing me what she was doing.  It was really cute, and I decided that she's officially my best friend in the kitchen.

There are also a few others, who I would describe in short as Jan the Dish Man, The Evil Stepsister, and Lazy Linda Lou.  The soup kitchen was a little different than that which I once worked in in Boston, in that the visitors were served by volunteers because there was not a good setup for a serving line.  Also all of the food was homemade, which was definitely not the case back home.  There was even pumpkin soup, a little of which I got to bring home with me.  It was a very nice establishment, and I'm excited to go back next month.

Really, the only other mildly exciting things in my life would be the scar that's forming on my knuckle from breaking a wine glass as my hand was inside washing it, the glass bowl I dropped in the kitchen on Thursday morning, tripping over cobblestones daily, and almost getting run over by a few cars.  Luckily, I've made some really great friends that don't allow me to touch glass, pull me off the street when cars are coming, and turn on the light for me when it's dark in the hallway and I can't see.

It should be a fun year.