Guten Rutsch ins neue Jahr 2010 !

Ah, this time last year, I remember running headlong through the streets with my German friend Alex, who was nice enough to take me New Year's party-hopping in Regensburg, making it by far the most active and celebratory New Year's in my personal experience. The streets were positively exploding with party-goers, beer bottles, party debris and, almost literally, fireworks. If I hadn't known it was New Year's, I would have been scared senseless to think I was in a real life war zone during a bombing.

We were in the cafe Picasso between the Cathedral and the Danube by this time, and just at midnight, the already enormously raucous streets positively burst, and I dashed outside just in time to see fireworks fill the sky over the river and the Stone Bridge just overhead. I'm very fearful of overwhelmingly loud noise, but I plugged my ears and watched for a while because it was still so spectacular nonetheless. I regret not having footage, sorry, guys.

Pathetic as it sounds, I actually can't think of any other New Year's in my life that wasn't much more than hugging my parents and exclaiming Happy New Year as a child, or later in life just being snuggled up in bed reading a book or writing in my journal and essentially completely forgetting all about it until it's already 0:15 and I suddenly look up and think, "Oh. Now I've got to remember to change the number on homework assignments." So that was a fairly outstanding memory from New Year's in Regensburg. [obvious]--> I'm not really a big party person. <-- [obvious]

Well, it's already long been New Year's in Germany and other countries that have a custom of doing this, but at any rate, here is Dinner For One, which is always watched every New Year's in Deutschland, for whatever reason I don't quite know. But it's amusing! Funnier still is that it experiences a far huger popularity in non-English-speaking countries, whereas it seems to be virtually unknown in English-speaking countries. And now those of you in said English-speaking countries will be one black-and-white comedy skit more enlightened. Enjoy!



"Same procedure as every year, James!"

Video Study Abroad 2008-2009

It's HERE.
The moment you've all been so anxiously, eagerly awaiting.

You know what it is? You know what it is??

My Study Abroad video!!!

In my defense, it took me this long for a number of reasons, primarily including great shortage of time during school after my return, various frustrations with video editing, compatibility issues after the installation of Windows 7, and most of all, waiting on the transfer of several precious clips from Liechtenstein on a friend's camera that still never came and may, possibly, supposedly, apparently, agonizingly be lost to me forever.

But thank goodness my camera battery hadn't died before at least one small clip from Liechtenstein, so let's put that behind and without further ado, make way for!--:

... And Eternity in a Grain of Sand

As of recently, I get this uncomfortable feeling that somehow, I wasted too much of my year in Regensburg. I don't mean that it was a waste to go. Rather, that I had this fantastic opportunity, and though I certainly utilized it, I did not come close to doing even more than that and expanding my world just that much more. I could have traveled more. I could have spent more time knowing even more people who would bring me just that many more new perspectives. There is enlightenment and inspiration and beauty that I missed, and I don't know why or what would have happened. There was just more there that, while one will never get everything, I missed out on too much simply because I didn't try hard enough to get it. I could have had more. I'm not greedy, but it's a confusing and uncertain feeling that I may have pathetically wasted more than I ever should have.

Well, maybe all this comes out of spending only a year there (or 11 months). It really is a very short time, once you come out of it. Those of you considering study abroad, as I have always said... Don't ever give up a full year for a half-year if you have any choice. There is only always more gain than loss.

Pumpkin Head

I live in an international dorm focused on language, where we are split into 7 language halls - Spanish, German, French, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, and Russian. (I live on the German Hall). We have a Halloween party every year, and among the festivities, each hall is given a pumpkin to have at it and try to win our pumpkin carving competition. Preference is given to halls with pumpkins that are culturally related.

Some of you who know me might remember the German flag eagle that I contributed to the hall pumpkin two years ago:



It came out not too bad, but we unfortunately didn't even place.

This year was determinedly different. And though I initially started the pumpkin with no expectation of winning, it eventually came out to be first-place material.



Ta-Daaaaaa. I'm proud of it.

(And I hope my fellow hallmates won't hold it against me for taking all the work... It's difficult for more than 1-2 people to work on a pumpkin, though!)

Oh man, there might be a girl from the French hall who took photos of all the pumpkins lit up. I took some time to shave out the inside on the side with Beethoven's face so that it would shine through distinctly if there was a light inside. I will see if she has those.

Further Update

Unfortunate news.

No skipping of Der German Class I Shouldn't Be In. Will just have to suck it up for the semester, just because the credits don't quite work out to have it already covered. On the plus side, if I just bite the bullet and chew on it on my back molars until December, it will also mean finishing the German Lit. and Language major for good without having to worry about trying to herd in any more requirements in my final semester. For each glass, there is both an occupied and unoccupied side, I suppose.

How's It Goin'?

Nah, I haven't posted much recently. University in America has reared its unseemly head in the last few weeks. And what's currently on my mind right now is a very large amount of class reading to do, and getting out of a German class, Intermediate Composition and Conversation, that is supposed to be required for my major.

Why? Because I just spent an entire year in Germany doing heavy research on and writing 10-page papers in German about things like Der Bewußtsseinsstrom in Leutnant Gustl von Arthur Schnitzler and Metaphoriken des Wassers in Ingeborg Bachmanns Undine Geht and Gedichtanalyse der anakreontischen Lyrik von Gotthold Ephraim Lessing and so on and so forth. And if you had been writing whole essays and giving oral presentations on such topics in front of entire classrooms of native speakers of your 2nd/3rd/4th language, you'd be pretty bored senseless too if you came back and your German class assignments look like this:

Read this one-page, large-print story written for the difficulty level of a German 3rd grader in this text book that's slightly thinner than the width of your index finger but stupidly cost you over $100 (?!).

Then write 10 adjectives regarding this-and-this topic of the story, and compose a 150-word letter from one main character to another.

SAVE ME.

'Burgweh - Knock Knock!

Today was the first day of classes at Vanderbilt. After each class, I keep wanting to knock on my desk, and sometimes I (very) briefly wonder why nobody is doing the same. And I'll admit... I still do it very quietly anyway, knowing that I'm the only who hears it or understands it.

In Germany, that's what you do when class ends. I had always wanted to get a brief video of it, but never did, for some reason. It's kind of interesting... And don't ask me why they do it, I don't know the actual reason.

But it feels SO NATURAL to do it now!! Everyone should knock on their desks upon the end of class!!

Okay... so I realize this is yet one more little thing I miss now. If this seems rather strange to you, then imagine going to normal live performances where the audience doesn't clap at the end of the show, but simply gets up and starts to leave when it's done.

Sorry to Bother

I've heard telemarketing is no longer allowed here, but the Chinese telemarketers either never even got close to getting wind of this, or they casually ignore the rule and pull the No-Speaky-Good-English card. So my Chinese family gets telemarketer calls somewhat frequently from time to time. Despite the No-Speaky-Good-English card, you usually can't fend them off with English either, because they speak it well enough to keep badgering you about great international phone plans starting at just blah blah blah blah....

But since I've been back, I've found that the fastest way to ward off ordinarily relentless Chinese telemarketers is to fight back with none other than a (seemingly) ruthless slew of German.

*phone rings*
Me: "Hello?"

Chinese Telemarketer: [Chinese] "Hello!!!!!! If you please, is Mr. Li there??????"
(你好！！！ 请问，李先生在吗？？？？？？)

Me: "Es tut mir leid, aber ich glaub', er ist momentan nicht zu Hause."
Translation: "Sorry, but I don't think he's home at the moment."

Telemarketer: ..... (timid) "Hello?"

Me: "Kann ich noch was helfen?"
Translation: "Is there anything else I could help with?"

Telemarketer: [English] "Is... somebody can speak Chinese?"

Me: "Leider kann ich Sie nicht verstehen. Gibt's vielleicht eine andere Sprache, die Sie sprechen könnten?"
Translation: "Unfortunately, I cannot understand you. Is there perhaps another language that you could try speaking?"

Telemarketer: ......

Me: "Hallo?"

Telemarketer: [English, horribly awkward] "Oh, sorry, um... sorry. *click* "

I don't care how evil you think I am. These people have been calling us every day for a week.

Turnaround

You know, I think my German is actually better than my Mandarin Chinese now.

(And if Kaci ever reads this, she will not only understand but also instantly fall on the floor laughing at what an understatement this is).

Somewhere Beyond The Sea

Sanni is a friend of mine in Germany. We have a sort of joke of making bad jokes between each other. As I was sitting next to her with a few other acquaintances during my last week in Regensburg, I turned to Sanni and melodramatically sighed,

"Oh, Sanni, of all things to accidentally forget in Regensburg.... I've left my heart!"

Of course, a few days later as a farewell gift, she got me this sweet red jacket with REGENSBURG across the front, and on the left side where my heart is, there is a small, iron-on patch of the crossed double keys, symbol and seal of Regensburg.

I miss living within walking distance of you, Sanni. I'm not even within swimming distance any more.

Cut-ography

I really wish I had taken more pictures specifically regarding this topic while I was in Regensburg (*brief sobbing moment regarding past tense of the sentence*), but we'll just make do.

In Europe, aside from flavor, there are two other distinguished differences between the pizza there and the pizza in America - 1) It is much thinner, and 2) It is typically served uncut.

When going out with friends to one of the 203502395 Italian restaurants in Regensburg, I would always notice how differently everyone cuts his or her pizza.

• There's me, hacking in long, broad slices and then into bite-sized pieces, maintaining a fairly evenly distributed offensive front from my side of the pizza.
  
• There's the Hack Straight Into The Middle And Work Your Way Out.
  
• There's Radial Triangle Slicing, more frequently seen in some of my American friends, for obvious reasons (or for those of you who don't live in America, American pizza is always served sliced radially in typically 6-10 slices, depending on pizza size).
  
• There's the Alien Parasite Breaking Into The Barrier At One Point And Eating Out The Innards From There, Leaving The Crust.
  
• There's Chaotic Random Hack-At-Will, Which Bothers The Author Of This Blog A Lot.
  
• And I've even seen, Holy Heavens, This Pizza Is Huge, I Must Fold In Half And Hack From The Back If I Am To Conquer.
  
• etc. etc. etc.

Ah, so many different varieties. How I only wish I had taken pictures!

I just have this feeling that the way you eat your pizza reflects your personality, which is why I am so personally fascinated by this. If you don't believe me, just humor me.

Home!

Alright. It's a little after 7:00 AM and I'm sitting in my room peeling my eyelids open as part of my plan to counter the jet lag. In the last half year, I've usually woken up around 6:30 - 7:30 AM, so maybe this will aid with getting back into routine. Plus, I woke up at 3:00 AM for absolutely no reason of disturbance, which never happens, so my body is still in a bit of a, "I'm telling you, these Circadian Rhythm orders from upstairs just CAN'T BE RIGHT, it's mid-morning, I tell you!! MID-MORNING!!" attitude right now. Don't worry, you'll be feeling better and back in American Central Time soon enough, Körper mine.

So! For most of you smart cookies out there, you'll know that I'm finally back home now, after a grueling but fortunately uneventful 1-shuttle, 3-plane, 23-hour, 2-in-flight-movie, multiple-bouts-of-crying trip from Regensburg > Munich > Amsterdam > Detroit to HOME. No lost luggage, no significant injuries, no major additional emotional scarring (but I think I made an old lady cry when she saw me pull out a note from a friend and start crying as I read it at the Munich airport). Two thumbs up for uneventful traveling.

Originally, I imagined this blog would come to an end upon my return, since it was primarily focused on expressing and telling what was happening to me in Germany on my year abroad. But on second thought, that's not true. There's experience in coming home itself, and more importantly, I already anticipate the infamous reverse culture shock to come. I'm not done telling stories just yet.

So in a nutshell, there will be some other things to come here. And if you get bored, of course there's always Bloog-a, my other little blog floating about in cyberspace.

Farewell, Regensburg. My heart breaks to leave you, but I'll be back some day to reclaim the pieces.

Empty House

Last night, I finished packing and set everything to be ready for departure this morning. As I crawled into bed under the covers, I coughed briefly, and to my horror, my room echoed!

From Living in Regensburg

Abschied

It's my last night and I can't stop crying.

TP

Confound it!

Ran out of toilet paper just four days before departure.
(I was hoping it would last just long enough without having to buy a new roll.)

Eine Woche Bleibt Noch

("One Week Still Remains")

This time next week, I'll be back in the States.

......

*starts crying*

Tag! You're It!

Just now, I learned all the German terminology used in the game of Tag from watching some kids playing it in the street below my window.

Meerrettich

Because of the following story, I will now never forget the meaning of this word.

I've known J. since we were both 5 years old in the same Kindergarten class, and only until college did we go to different schools. Two weeks ago, she and her boyfriend came by Regensburg on part of their vacation through Europe. We walked around the city during the day, and in the evening, I took them to Alte Linde ("Old Linden Tree"), a well-known beer garden in Regensburg situated on a small island on the Danube with a great view across the river. As with most beer gardens, it serves lots of beer and lots of very traditional German food.


The two of them don't speak any German, so we went down the menu and I translated for them. J. pointed to an item under the Brotzeit menu (traditional German meal where cold cuts, cheeses, bread and other spreads are served on a wooden cutting board) that had a long list of sundry items that came with it. One of the few words I simply couldn't remember was "Meerrettich", because I just hadn't encountered it much. But the other items sounded alright, so J. went ahead and ordered it for dinner.

After a while, our food finally came, and in front of her was a big variety of the items mentioned above. We sat there trying to guess what everything was, because I haven't actually ordered Brotzeit much and wasn't entirely sure. Then she scooped a bit from a small white mound, spread it generously across a piece of bread and took a big bite. We were eating when she suddenly sat up in a panic, flailed her hands and desperately started guzzling some beer (there weren't any other options on our table).

The white stuff, Meerrettich, is horseradish.

And German horseradish is strong.

Oops! Sorry!

It won't happen again!

The Beginning of the End

Sorry to sound so Doomsday-sy (that word has got to be too cute for its intention) in the title, but today I have inadvertently taken down a mental landmark of, well... truly the beginning of my last days here.

Why today specifically?

As with second semester, I've simply become good friends with my tutors from first semester, now that they are no longer tutoring me*. Today, one of my tutors from last semester had sent me a text saying she had something to give me. I met up with her briefly at a café where she was with some friends, we greeted, and she handed me a delightful and heart-felt mixed CD. (Yes! Expanding my music horizons!) On it is mostly German music, but also some songs in French, English, (technically some Austrian, because there's a Mozart piece), and Spanish slotted in between the rest.

*FYI: Vanderbilt requires that I have a tutor for every class that I take. But I'm not really complaining. Without them, especially first semester, I would have drowned.

She lives a little ways outside of Regensburg and is going home tomorrow morning, so we hugged 57 different times and said a bittersweet goodbye. We didn't get to hang out as much as I realize we should have, but I'll really miss her. We had a good time, and I'm glad to have met her.


I popped it in and started listening as soon as I got back home. Track #1 is "Adieu" by 17 Hippies, and as I listened, I felt it draw a deep sigh from within me somewhere.

I've come here now to say "Adieu,"
The others have already gone and are waiting...

Click the link and give it a listen. Musically speaking, in certain categories, this is just my cup of tea. I love it.

The music she's given me is excellent, and I'm quite happy to find how much I like most of the tracks. Some are somber and mellow, like "Adieu," while others are purposefully humorous and make me laugh, like "Denglisch" (Deutsch/Englisch, a very well-known term between those who speak both languages) and "Mein kleiner grüner Kaktus" ("My Little Green Cactus"). And still there are a few that I already knew.

Track #14 is "Wonderful World" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. I already knew this song because it was used in Juggleville III at Vanderbilt, which I was in last year. I always liked it a lot, but had never actually heard the entire song (just the segment during rehearsals and shows).

Thinking about leaving the people I've come to adore and love here, and then, listening to this track on this farewell CD, I suddenly burst into tears. Uncontrollable tears. I upgraded from Kleenex to hand towel in record time. I had to follow me with a mop.

But believe it or not, that was already the second time. When I was still on "Adieu," I read the small message in red that she also wrote for me at the bottom of the inside cover. It reads in German: "Dear Elayn, your year here has flown by far too quickly. It made me really happy that I got to know you. Best wishes for the future. Maybe one day, we will see each other again."


And when I reached the last sentence, I lost it. I'm sorry. I lost it.

This is truly the beginning of the end.

Coffee... from Togo?

As you all likely well know, countless English terms have been integrated into languages in both Europe and all over the world, and German is no exception.

Although Europe is filled with the traditional cafés where one always goes purposefully to sit and enjoy a cup with company, the characteristically American concept of grabbing coffee on the run in the mornings or around lunch has likewise infiltrated the modern food industry here, and nowadays, it's not uncommon to come across the distinctly English term "Coffee - or "Kaffee" - To Go" in coffee shops and restaurants everywhere.


It's hip! It's modern! And sometimes, it just feels cooler to advertise than "Kaffe zum Mitnehmen"!

Unfortunately for many of the older generations of Germans, it can be often be quite difficult to keep up with the dynamic changes that almost seem to flood in with every passing week.

But it's to my personal great amusement when you overhear an elderly German going up to a counter and ordering "ein Kaffee Togo, bitte". Togo, pronounced with German vowels. Togo, which rhymes with "pogo" of pogo-stick. Togo, like the small west African country. Togo, like only a cute old German would say.

Weigh In

It just occurred to me that because I have no scale here, I have gone for a whole year without a clue as to how much I weigh. This is not so remarkable, but I also suddenly realize that this hasn't happened to me since I was... three years of age? Hehe. Just one of those little things, I guess. Nothing special.

Oh! As it was the last day of class for one of my seminars, the professor had suggested last week that we all meet at a beer garden this evening at around 7:00pm for a final nice chat all together. Not too many were able to show up because it's basically exam week right now, but I took a break from my Hausarbeiten (final essays) and went right at 19:00 . I think the professor was really glad that I did. Everyone else had to get there late and the poor professor would have had to, so to speak, hold the fort and keep our table for 15 or so by himself for a good while.

At any rate, I love, LOVE meeting up with professors outside of class. Every professor is his or her own person too, and I feel that as students, we frequently either forget that or ignore it and don't try to mingle with professors on a casual and personal level outside the class. That's a shame, I find. It's simply developed this way, or perhaps stayed this way from olden traditions. Even professors themselves are often hesitant, of course, though I do know a few who are also of the above mentality and would love for students to talk to them more on a personal basis. But I could go on on that tangent for ages. It's this final essay's topic that I need to go on about for a few ages longer... *sigh* .

Not Amused

*chokes, wheezes, retches and gags at the smell of weed/pot/whatever overwhelming her from the girl sitting at the next computer three feet over*

Uuuaaaghhh.... why, WHY do so many of you here do this??? I think it just rotted through my lungs and diaphragm and into my stomach. I had to think about how to spell "diaphragm" just now. I'm at a German computer at the University, so the auto-spellcheck is useless because it identifies every English word as wrong in German. Page of red underlines. I could spell it die-uhframm and I wouldn't know the difference. "Die! A framm!" Speaking of die, OH THANK HEAVENS, she and her friend just left. Let me just sweep out the pile of brain cells that shriveled up and died in the last few minutes and get back to work on my essays.

Schnecke

It takes approximately 40 minutes for a tiny snail to mope around, poop, eat half of what came out and then go along on its merry way.

I know this because that's how long I watched one yesterday evening on a bench at the University.

Seriously, there are soooo many things I would rather do than write my final essays.

(Did you know it doesn't come out the "tail" end, but rather at the opening of the shell, fairly close to its head if it's curled closer up? I know this post has been utterly disgusting, but I can't help but always be fascinated by biological things.)

'Burgweh - Mosquito-Free

While we still get a lot of bugs during the summer here in Regensburg, especially gnats galore, I'm thankful that at least they are rarely ever mosquitoes. I've only gotten one (and a half?) bites here all summer, and I'm actually not even sure it was a mosquito at all.

I am so loath to return to the southern United States, where it is not only even more humid and sticky and miserably hot, but is also the Nether-Kingdom Of the Not-So-Miniscule Airborne Blood-Suckers Who Bringeth Suffering and The Nights Of Hell.

(When I was a kid, I once remember us counting 97 mosquito bites across my whole body. Nights of Hell).

God Morgon!

("Good Morning!", Swedish)


If only Swedish was more widely spoken (approx. 10 million speakers worldwide). Between knowing English and fairly good German, I feel like Swedish would be, comparatively on the overall language learning scale, merely a skip away for me. I'm no expert yet, but I get the feeling that if you have at least English and German, Swedish doesn't have an overly difficult pronunciation system nor grammatical structure, and there are close cognates all over the place.

Alas. I don't think I've ever even met a Swedish person.

Not to mention the fact that most of them have smashing good English already. But at least if it were more widely spoken, it would be fun to learn!

Supercalifragilistic...

One noticeable advantage of German's frequently kilomenter-long words and its (some say) at times unwieldly grammatical structure is that when you have to write a German essay and you are composing it in your native language first, and you suddenly find that you need more pages, you will - in almost any case - gain page length just from translating it into German alone.


[Ein deutlicher Vorteil der deutschen Wörter, die oft kilometerlang sind, und der deutschen Grammatikstruktur, die manchmal von einigen sperrig beschreibt wird, geht so: wenn man eine deutsche Hausarbeit schreiben musst und die zuerst auf die Muttersprache verfassen möchte, als man auch gleichzeitig findet, dass es einen Mangel an die Seiten gibt, wird man - fast auf jeden Fall - längere Seiten einfach nur durch die Übersetzung in Deutsch bekommen.]

Not really a perfect translation but... see? I told you so. Now think of adding just a few lines to every paragraph over a span of 8-9 pages.

Train Tracks

Yesterday, a friend who I have not seen for a very long time came by train, arriving in Regensburg.

Ironically at the same time, a friend who I will not see again for a very long time boarded that exact same train at the exact same moment, departing from Regensburg.

Here We Go Again

Trying to successfully complete three 10-page term papers and a final exam on German literature after 1945 by 24. July, and preferably earlier than said date.

Blog entries minimal. All you need to know right now for updates is that I was visited by a Dutch friend who flew in from the Netherlands and stayed for a few days last week.

Wait for it.... wait for iiiit....

A FLYING DUTCHMAN!!!

Happy Trails until my return, all.

The Misconception

When foreigners, or at least Americans from my personal experience, think of Germany, the first images that pop up in their minds are NAZIS, war, the military and a harsh, guttural and supposedly very unpleasant language.

In one of my classes where we recently discussed cultural symbols or stereotypes, one classmate said:

When I was young, my family lived in England for a few years and I went to primary school there. Even at that young age, one of the first questions all of the other kids asked me when they knew I was from Germany was, "Are you a Nazi?" We never were and never will be Nazis, and we have absolutely nothing to do with the Nazis. But I will never forget that memory.

One of the problems that is the root of stereotypes likes this is that the large majority of media, primarily films, released or made in other parts of the world outside of Germany portray and only portray scenes and events from World War II. Consequently, the majority of the public only gets to see the strict military codes, the cold, barked commands from officers (but what military doesn't bark and yell its commands?) and the cruel, merciless reality of war. And so, Germany gets less and less opportunities to elbow past the onslaught of black-and-white war films and show its true beauty to those who misconceive its image.

The taboo subject misconception. To clear this for many of you, once and for all, it is not taboo or forbidden to talk about Nazis, Hitler, the events surrounding World War II, etc. in Germany. To put this in a different perspective, it isn't taboo for Americans to talk about historical slavery or the extreme segregation in earlier centuries of the US. Nor do we want to be singly labeled as a country for those great, terrible years in which another major group of people was also treated poorly, to the point of deep shame. Talking and teaching about it helps those today understand the past mistakes and learn from them, and Germany does not censor the subject from its populations. You wouldn't want to be labeled for the mistakes of your parents, and you wouldn't want to be labeled for the mistakes of your precursors.

Germany is not all a hard, industrialized country of concrete jungles, but also miles and miles of beautiful natural land, and still and silent woods, and perfect balances of mountain and water, and breezy fields as far as the eye can see under endless blue skies. The German people may be naturally more guarded and distant on the outside, but are usually genuinely friendly and warm-spirited souls on the inside. The German language is not an ugly, churned out mash of discordant syllables, but a language with its own music, flow and timbre, as any other language, and beautiful and incredible in itself, as any other language.

You only need an open mind and open heart to see these things, and not only in the German culture, but in each and every culture in the world.

Po-ta-to, Po-tah-to

I say, "Ouch!" and you say, "Aua!"

Ouch! Aua!
Ouch! Aua!

I say, "Whoo-hoo!", you say, "Juhuu!"

Whoo-hoo! Juhuu!
Whoo-hoo! Juhuu!

(Let's call the whole thing off.)

Bobblehead Pigeons

(from The New York Times)

You know how when pigeons are on the ground walking, they invariably do the head-bob with each step, making you (me) wonder how they get by for so long without having mush for brains, worse than they already do?

Would you like to know what I have really wanted to do for a while now, especially being in yet another European city where they run rampant?

I want to do an experiment where one puts a small brace on a pigeon's head, and then see if it can keep walking or not. Nothing to hurt the poor, stupid beast, mind you. Just enough to see if the two factors are linked -- and if so, to what degree.

Oh, I've so been wanting to try.

'Burgweh - Daylight

As of today, 21 June, the first day of summer, the sun rises over Regensburg at 5:07 AM and sets in the evening at 9:20 PM. And that's not including the fact that there is still daylight fading away over the horizon at 10:15 PM.


As far as daylight goes, Nashville is pretty much the netherworld by around 8:00 PM, not even with fading light, regardless of how long the longest day of summer is supposed to be.

*sigh*.

Maybe if this city just wasn't so beautiful, I wouldn't miss it like this.

I Have My Sources...

A small revelation from the past year is that having capabilities in more than one language leads to the ability to extract more information on the same topic from multiple Wikipedia articles written in those different languages.

Notes on Jane's Math Comment

In continuing the answers to Jane's comment on the aforementioned post's aforementioned post,

How's chinese math different? I'm very curious...

There are many ways in the past in which I've tried math in both the methods taught to me by teachers in school, and the way they were taught to me by my family at home. The latter, I must say, was almost always faster or more efficient.

Let's take the multiplication table as one example. Children in America are taught to memorize:

Mult. Fact	Spoken Translation
4 x 7 = 28	"Four times seven is twenty-eight"
4 x 8 = 32	"Four times eight is thirty-two"
4 x 9 = 36	"Four times nine is thirty-six"

Anyone who is an English native-speaker can speak up if you learned your multiplication tables differently.

Children in China are taught to memorize:
(Note: It also literally takes less time to speak any Chinese number than its English counterpart. At least in my opinion.)

Mult. Fact	Spoken Translation
4 x 7 = 28	"Four seven twenty-eight" si-qi-ershiba
4 x 8 = 32	"Four eight twenty-four" si-ba-sanshisi
4 x 9 = 36	"Four nine thirty-six" si-jiu-sanshiliu

Fun fact: Shanghainese syllables are usually even shorter than Mandarin Chinese ones ;) .

Funner fact: All of the multiplication facts that have single-digit answers in Chinese are so short that the syllable "de" is added after the first two numbers as a placement "equals to" syllable, so as to remain consistent with the rhythm of the rest of the chart.

As for that, this form of memorization is designed to be very rhythmic and can almost be chanted. Considering the correlation between music and memory, I'd say that turns out to be a useful factor.


Let's take item counting now.

From personal observation alone, I generally see more people in Western countries who, when faced with a large number of the same item (basket of apples, dinner table of people, etc.), typically tend to point to every object individually and count by ones.

From personal observation alone, when I watched members of my family counting heads at a family reunion or whether there were enough leaf-wrapped rice cakes in the giant steamer to go around, everything was always counted by either 2's, 3's or even 4's. Often that involves pointing not with one finger, but with 2, 3 or the whole hand at once. That sounds confusing if you've never done that, but it comes remarkably naturally when you've done it since you were a child. When it comes to a mass of objects, it's illogical and completely inefficient to count by ones.

Even when it comes to small things in masses, where it becomes hard to eyeball groups, I instinctively separate them out by groups of 3's, and 4's if I can manage.


(Is this a really beautiful picture of M&M's or what?)
In addition, there are countless (haha) other methods regarding both basic and advanced math where the Chinese form is simply more... efficient. I always got some feeling like Western math was more based on rules in which one could come to a type of answer, whereas Asian math seems to assume more often that each kind of solution will naturally require its own fastest method, and therefore, it's stupid to try and waste time applying one thing's method to another, regardless of how fast it works in its natural element.

Anyone who speaks English at all can speak up if all that made no sense.

The Polyglot's Division - Further Notes

My friend Jane posted this comment on -this post- a few days ago:

I'm actually surprised you think in english more than chinese. I would've thought it was the other way around, but I guess after hearing your little brothers talk (when they were little :p) I should've realized it would at least be split evenly between the two.

I have thought a little about this. Here's what I think may be the case, at least partially.

I have an immensely good grasp of Shanghainese (the Chinese dialect that we speak at home, and the one Jane is referring to). But as often as we speak it, and as much as I love it, it is essentially the home-language. It's my family-language. I mean that not just in the sense of heritage, but specifically within my household of six people.

Everyone has their own family-language, used with close family and virtually no one else. The only big difference here is that your family-language and the language that you speak with others in your day to day life might be the same worldly language (say, English for most Americans, for example), whereas mine happen to be different.

I predict the reason I don't formulate many of my thoughts in Shanghainese is because the majority of my personal thoughts are things that I wouldn't share with my family. It's not that they are bad, taboo or secretive. It's that there are certain themes and topics that would fall on deaf ears if I ever brought them up at the dinner table. My parents have always adapted well but never related well to overall current American culture, or at least the modern culture that my brothers and I are growing up in. My brothers are too young to understand most of the theories and principles I would discuss (the oldest isn't even out of middle school). And if both my parents and brothers fall into this category of not being able to understand philisophical or creative ideas that run through my mind, you can imagine how much hope my grandmother has. (You're fabulous, Grandma, but the answer is none.)

In part, I might simply lack the vocabulary for these thoughts, because they are never brought up at home. In a greater part, my mind matches up every language to its corresponding culture without (and indeed, often ignoring) conscious effort, and when one culture has the wrong influence or none at all on another one, the languages consequently don't overlap or mix.

But don't worry, Shanghainese. English ain't got nothin' on a hella lot of what you can express.

Another Rainy Day Stranger

This will be a long post, but I try to limit the number of those, so I'm not too bothered.


Ha Tien is a tiny, Asian restaurant - and restaurant is a generously large term - merely down the street and 'round the corner from my dorm. I go there all the time when I'm in a hurry, low on refrigerator ingredients, or feel the need to get extra protein in my diet without spending the time or money on supermarket meat. Ha Tien is also a cheap but good eat, which means that my name is probably written somewhere on the outside of the restaurant. In bold.

As I am often wont to do, I planned to order a big bowl of noodles (big = dinner tonight + lunch tomorrow) and take the spoils of the kill back to my room to feast in the darkness of my cave. When I ordered, there was one other guy eating in near the opposite wall from the door. I glanced over as he munched a spring roll and I wondered about this other person who was eating alone on Friday night. I paid for my order and left, but as I got to my dorm, I had this sudden desire to reach out to someone else tonight. Someone I don't already know, I guess.

I went back in and tugged out a stool from the table he was sitting at. I set down my box of noodles and said hi. There's absolutely nothing to lose in these situations. He was likewise very nonchalant about it, and said hello back to me. I smiled back and bluntly said, Company, you know. He nodded and took another spoonful of his noodle soup. We asked each others names and began talking, talking about whatever.

Seba(stian) is fairly tall, probably near 6'4". He has a head of light brown, curly hair. Almost like a Jew-fro. But it looks nice, because it's not a careless, tousled mess of curly. He has some facial hair of the same color, scraggly but also neatly trimmed. I don't really know what color his eyes are. Seba is handsome in face, though lanky, and walks with a strange gait, like his legs are trying to reach a little further than his body can get to in one stride. Seba is not a big smiler, but he doesn't make you uncomfortable, and when he does laugh, it's a pleasure to see.

Seba works and lives about an hour outside of Regensburg, but at the end of the work week, he likes to spend the weekends here because it's more fun and there's more to do. Seba's from way south, near the German-Austrian border, in Oberbayern.

Seba and I agree to walk to the Jahninsel/island on the river and see if the music fest has started up in spite of the rain. We talk about accents while we are on the bridge. He asks if I've picked up any of the local accent (Baierisch!), and if I often do the accent from my home area for fun (American southern! No!) . Seba and I joke about the final essays that I have to write, that he wrote years ago. Seba looks around 28-34, but it's hard to say because people also stay in school much longer here (some of my friends at the Uni are that age). Seba and I walk around on the bridge and scope the festival going on below. A few scattered crowds huddle just in front of the stages or under the bridge's archways. The entry fee is €4 . We shrug and don't bother going in today.

We head back into the main city and eventually go our separate ways again. Seba says he'll follow the gradual stream of people in gaudy, plaid, baggy shin pants to what he predicts is a Bad Taste party. I laugh and wish him luck. We shake hands in parting, he asks my name once more, and wish each other a good evening. I turn down a side alley to go back home. Seba turns and continues down the street with his strange gait, presumably to arrive eventually at a party with many badly dressed people.

Shore to Shore

"Language exerts hidden power, like a moon on the tides."

~ Rita Mae Brown

The Polyglot's Division

Since I both grew up multilingual and have learned additional languages as well, others have often asked me what language I think in. But as it were, this changes depending on the case.

To cover a few examples (in thought only, does not include conversation with others) --

English:

• frequently default
• primary language for speaking to myself, but not always
• expressing most concepts, ideas, principles, esp. philosophically, etc.
• my largest vocabulary is in English
• occasional counting, but not calculating

German:

• is not primary, but often takes over much personal thought - probably from being here
• though not default, used exclusively and heavily for phrases that are alien to the other languages

Chinese (Shanghainese):

• cooking - When thinking and planning as I cook, almost all ingredients, utensils and processes are in Shanghainese in my brain as long as I have the vocabulary, because virtually all of my cooking skills have been learned from my mother.
• (shopping for groceries)
• expressing thoughts that are easily understood by an Eastern mentality or perspective, but which are difficult or distorted for a Western one
• mathematics - Chinese numbers are very efficient. Due to a much higher focus on mathematics and faster calculation in East Asian education systems than in Western ones, the overall mental method that one is trained to use in Chinese education is also much more efficient. I was raised in America but coached on math homework by a Chinese family.
• Other personal thoughts generally not covered by English

Chinese (Mandarin):

• used infrequently or just for fun, because I can speak the dialect but did not grow up using it often

And in case you don't frequently read my blogs, I actively dream and sleep-talk in all of the above.

Thought of the Week - Change

"Man, I have all this change... it's making my wallet bulge. I should go get some more gela-- NO!! No! I will NOT spend my change on more gelato! No! Bad! I will not eat more gelato! I will go down to the post office and use change to buy stamps to send postcards that will NOT make me become one big, round, rolling gelato scoop! Buy stamps!!! Resist gelato!!!"

Venticello

Sometimes, if the wind is right and I happen to stick my head out the window, the wonderful smell of garlic, herbs and Italian cooking wafts up to me from the two Italian restaurants on the square just by my street.

Mmmmmm....

I Spy

Sometimes while I'm walking on the street, I don't feel as if I'm being watched, but rather, recognized. Regensburg is certainly big enough that you only may or may not run into people you actually know on the street, but it's also small enough that there are certain strangers in the population who I definitely recognize by face now. I predict that we simply have frequently crossing routes in our daily lives. In my mind, I say hello to the people who sometimes get on the same buses as me on some days of the week.

(On a side note, there are even several people I recognize now because I recognize their dogs. One of them, for example, is a lean, tan-orange dog whose front right paw sticks out at a funny angle and he limps a bit. Another is a mixed white dog with brown patches who has funny and almost bunny-like ears that I can recognize instantly. Very noticeable dogs. In my mind, they are named Lean Tan-Orange Funky Leg Dog and Mostly White Bunny Ears Dog, respectively. In my mind, I wave hello to them.)

I imagine, If I can recognize them, then what would keep anyone from recognizing me, too?

In addition, we will consider the fact that I am Asian, which already brings me out in the general crowd here. Unless you would like to use the stereotype that all people of one general race all look the same as your argument. (Yeah, thanks. I must admit that I don't feel so bad about it because to me, all white people with vaguely brown-ish hair look precisely the same to me. Damn, but how I hope for the day when I can finally tell them all apart.)

In addition to that, we will also consider that I frequently practice juggling and poi in certain locations around the main city when the weather is nice outside.

A non-tourist, juggling, striped-sock-spinning Asian.

... If I can recognize random people here, they have got to be recognizing me. Case rested.

Flop-Flip

Yesterday I changed my Google Mail and Calendar back into English because, unfortunately, some functions are not yet available in German.

Thus I find that I've actually felt a bit weirded out for the last two days, reading all of it in English. I've been so used to having it in German for over a year now.

(Words are so much shorter :P ! )

Flash-Mob on Haidplatz

WHAT?!

This flash-mob took place RIGHT on the street of my dorm, while I was HERE, in Regensburg, and I missed it?!?


*FAINTS*

I would have just loved to participate! Flash-mobs are so fascinating! I'm just a little bummed that I missed it. But it's kind of cool that one took place right here in Regensburg, and so close by. I wonder where exactly I was at that time...

EDIT: Argh, I just checked my Google Calendar. I was out walking on the other side of the Danube with a few people I don't even really like. Pity :D .

Stadtmaus Tour - Line Dance

This is a video I finally put together earlier today. Most of the necessary details are already in the video. Hope you get a kick out of it.

'Burgweh - Public Transportation

What I will miss in Regensburg:

Convenient and practical public transportation.
Outside of a small handful of cities, it is virtually nonexistent in the US.

(Back to being stuck and stranded in the VanderBubble again. *weeps*.)

'Burgweh* - Get What You See

(Note: The term 'Burgweh is not an actual word, but a term derived from a combination of the real German word, Heimweh ("home sickness") and Regensburg. Ergo, 'Burgweh represents all and everything that I will miss and pine for once I must leave.)


What I will miss from Regensburg:

Going to stores and supermarkets and paying the exact price marked on each item. Tax is already included here.

That Pointilism function in Adobe is pretty nifty.

Speaking of recent storms and weather here, Google Mail's "Tree" theme (one of the ones I like best) has a pretty sweet background for thunderstorm weather. For those of you who aren't familiar or who have never tried it, this is one of the dynamic themes that changes depending on the weather in your region.



(Another touch that I like about the normal rainy weather background is that the inbox window has little droplets on it. Likewise, when it snows, there are snowdrifts piled on the edges of those windows. Hurrah, Google! How could I have ever survived in the bleak, empty, boring world before you came along.)

Wrath of the Storm

There is this... this... HURRICANE over Regensburg right now... and... and...

... and I'm LOVING IT!!!!!

The rain is a good, clear 45° angle from the ground. It's so violent and turbulent here right now that building walls that never get wet are finding out what it's like to be soaked.

I was the slowest person walking home on the street. Because I LOVED IT!! Aside from arriving home and sneezing out about half of the dirt from all the construction in a three-block radius. Vicious winds, as previously stated. Dust clouds like you only see on the prairies, before the rain started.

It was already brewing when I finished dinner and walked out to the park to spin poi. And it was thick in the air as I was in the park. And finally, I left because I couldn't spin against the wind any more.

I think half the flowers on my windowsill just got brutally decapitated.

I'm too excited to take pictures. And you wouldn't understand how glorious it is anyway.

If I was strong enough to defend myself and destroy large, flying objects in mid-air, like giant, tumbling umbrellas and café chairs, I like to think that I would certainly still be out there right now.

(The Amélie soundtrack turns out to be really excellent for certain storm weather!)

L! is for the way you-- Language

Sometimes, I've thought to myself, Self, you know what would be useful? Having a German boyfriend. People who have partners who speak the language that they're studying always pick up so many little things, and at a faster pace. Sometimes it's very noticeable. And that would be really useful. I'm sure of it.

Unfortunately, the sheer hell and hassle of being in love and romantically involved with someone eventually shoots the whole idea in the face, so I'll still have to settle for the current other methods of linguistic osmosis.

Come to think of it, the only probable relationship that could currently work between me and a guy, in which we cuddled all the time, spent every possible moment together and absolutely adored each other, is if the male in question was a puppy.

(... And they're just as cute, or cuter!)

Ripe Old Age

Although I'm in my third year of college in the States, I'm the same age as the majority of the first-year students here at the Uni Regensburg. Two or three times, I've been asked how old I was and gotten the response, "Wow! So young! And already even out of the country and abroad??" .

But not only do we start earlier for university in the States, we typically go for a shorter amount of time as well. It's 4 years in college, in and out, and your path diverges afterward to either an immediate career start or further study for a Master's or PhD degree. If it's the latter, then you've still got a few more years, but typically, most people are definitely done by, say, age 27 or 28 at the latest. (Not counting certain exceptions like med school, etc., where you could still be going to class, say, by the time you're already walking with a cane.)

This is almost never the case here in Germany. Although there are plenty of people who are about 23-25 who are writing their master's theses, I know almost just as many people who are about age 28-30 who are most definitely still in school. Still students. But this is nothing out of the ordinary here.

Regenbogensburg

Today was a public holiday (Ascension), and as a day itself, it was quite a marvelous one for me.

I spent the morning organizing things, and making yogurt. Yes! I am experimenting with bacterial yogurt cultures. But I forgot to take pictures. But it's okay. I'm planning to try again this weekend. (Because my roommate will be away, and consequently, not here to be too totally weirded out by this innocent experiment to thwart my adventurous attempts).

At noon, I scarfed a quick not-hungry sandwich, and headed out to the large square, Neupfarrplatz, where I juggled and swung poi. It rained lightly for a little while. Some German children came up and stared, completely mesmerized, at my throws and catches, which were mesmerizing. OoooOOoooh. One picked his nose and pulled out a blood-clot booger. Wait! You didn't want to know that.

I left Neupfarrplatz when it started crowding up and went to the Stadtpark ("city park") . Remarkably, I have only discovered this place within the last month. It is now one of my favored haunts of the city. I go there to read, study, stare into space, people-watch, duck-watch, juggle, poi, and as I did today, re-lace my shoes. (*Ask me sometime about my sneakers. I am a unique lacer :P . )

HOWEVER, I do hate adding to the internet's tedious, ever-growing collection of infinite blog posts that are all rant and no photos. And the main point of this post was, indeed, to show some photos.

Today, my dear readers, was most incredible, because one of my very, very favorite types of weather came and graced Regensburg.

Heavy rain in radiant sunlight.


I love this weather with so much of my being. It makes me close my eyes and breathe in deeply, hand to my heart, and want to run free in the open.


But I did not run outside, for Sunlit Rain lasts but minutes.
And I would have burned the frittata that I was making.


But the fantastic feeling will remain with me, as well as a photograph of a faintly shining rainbow over the cathedral of Regensburg. (This one's for you, Michael! :D )


As woefully predicted, the rain vanished soon after, but behind it rolled a sky of grand, darkening, slate-gray clouds..... So beautiful! Elegant and foreboding and unearthly and stately... my camera does no justice...


And a last look at the sky over Regensburg today.


I think I fell into a swoon and couldn't get up for a while.

Today, dear readers, was a most lovely and fantastic of days.



(Oh, and the frittata turned out nicely.)

Vhat the Wuck?

There has always been this little phenomenon with a surprising number of Germans who speak English regarding the English letters "V" and "W" .

Other American friends who speak German and I have frequently noticed that Germans say "willage" instead of "village". Phonetic mix-ups are nothing remarkable in any language-to-language transfer. All languages are composed of a different collection of phonetic ingredients, and basically, some language always has some kind of sound that some other language doesn't have.

HOWEVER.

I find the above example completely bizarre, because the German language has these phonemes (sounds). The only difference is that their "V" is pronounced as a "fff", and their "W" is pronounced as our "V". (Prime example: Volkswagen is pronounced, "Folksvagen," to us.) Despite that, it shouldn't make a difference. The sounds have different labels, but they are still present in both languages. To this day, I still cannot figure out why Germans say "willage" instead of "village".

They have the phoneme. There is no reason to mix them up. They have the phoneme. And might I mention that there are few English-speaking Germans who have any major problems with the "w" in "where" and "when"?

I've asked and discussed this with German friends of mine personally. I've gotten anything from Germans who have no problem saying English words starting with "v", to those who can discern absolutely no difference when I enunciate both the correct and incorrect forms before them, to those who have said, "Well, I actually had a good American friend who helped teach me what exactly to do with your mouth, lips and tongue. So that's why I can do it. However, that's the only reason why I can pronounce it correctly now. As far as sound, I promise you, both still sound exactly the same to me."

Isn't this bizarre?!

Protest

Earlier this week, there was a demonstration at the University. It was more or less a protest of the increased Studiengebühren, or tuition fees. The topic has also come up by chance in several of my classes over the last year.

The sum of the tuition fee against which many students are protesting is around €600-750 per semester, by what I know, which equates to about $800-1000.

Okay. I still know that's a lot per semester, and especially so if it used to be essentially free to go to university here. But in every discussion about it that I come across, I can never bring myself to join in the debate. Even on some scholarship, my family pays exponentially more than that for me every year. The amount that the German students pay per semester covers... maybe my meal plan at Vanderbilt... per semester.

Most students in America have to hurl themselves into decades of debt just to go to school. I do sympathize with the situation in Germany, simply because of how drastic a change it has now become for them over the years of gradual tuition increase. But sometimes, it's hard not to say something against their argument from our side's perspective.

Stand Out In The Crowd

Vanderbilt requires that I have a tutor for each course that I take here in order to get the full number of credits. Once we've found tutors, I then contact them by e-mail and make plans to meet up. Sometimes we manage to find each other on StudiVZ, or the German equivalent of Facebook, and can find pictures of each other, but often there isn't a profile of the tutor to be found, so this doesn't happen.

In spite of this, my tutors have never had problems recognizing me at bustling meeting points because there are so few Asians here.

Here Comes the Sun

I don't usually post things here that are not somehow related to my year in Germany, but I'm making an exception for today's post. My friend Enajane has recently launched a truly awesome t-shirt design on www.threadless.com .

See it. Vote for it. Be amazed. (Clicking the picture will take you straight to the page).


Yes, it is splendid!! Look how fantastic it is!! This, of all shirt designs, undoubtedly deserves its rightful chance. Have I mentioned that Enajane spews creativity like she's the pure fountain of it?

You Swine!

Ah. How splendid.


It was just announced on the news this morning that the first case of the Swine Flu in Germany has just been documented in - none other than - good old Regensburg.

It was reported in the surrounding county, so the case fortunately wasn't within the main city itself. But you must admit that we've really got to hand it to Murphy again this time. Gosh darn it, Murphy. *shakes fist*.

At the moment, I am still not certain if I should bring this to my mother's attention. I had only just convinced her how safe I was here. Sigh.

(Ironically, the pig is an animal/symbol of luck in Germany).

When in Germany (Bavaria)...

Last night, I went to the official inauguration, I suppose you would say, of the new director of the University. The event started at 18:00 (on the spot, naturally) and was three-or-so hours of me alternately listening to one of two things. The first was endless streams of advanced German vocabulary that made me sit there and nod quietly with a sniffle to accept the obvious, massive futility of taking on the endeavor that is the German language. The second was listening to the fine university concert orchestra unfortunately struggling to keep up with the frenzied soloist who either has horrendous stage nervousness, or needs to lock himself in a room with nothing but his violin and a metronome for a fortnight. At least the orchestra put on a well-executed performance. (Mendelssohn rolls in his grave, Mr. Soloist! While you might enjoy diddling out all those 32nd-note runs as fast as your little fingers can manage, your plan to stun is going to backfire when you play with all the emotion of a wooden chair and your orchestra can't follow you!!)

ANYWAY.

The actual point of this post is to share with you, my readers, the lovely fact that at this semi-formal event, there was none other than beer and pretzels served at the reception following. Oh, Bavaria! You never cease to amaze.