Home sweet home. I couldn’t wait to get back to all the familiar sights and sounds and places and everything associated with home. My initial shock of reentering American life has proven to be interesting and entertaining (well, at least for me).
As my plane took off in the Dresden airport, I felt strangely numb. No excitement, no relief, no sadness, no nostalgia, just “ok let’s get on with this, keep moving, got a long flight ahead.” I was surprised to feel so little emotion, but I guess I withdrew myself from the situation long enough ago for it not to stun or shock me one way or the other when the day finally came. I just couldn’t wait to get on with it and get home.
My plane from Frankfurt to Atlanta was delayed two hours on the way home, making the total time spent on planes approximately 13.5 hours and total transit time, including security and standing in lines and coming and going, 18 hours. Yuck.
When we broke the cloud cover in Atlanta, the first thing I noticed was smog and the brown layer of sky.
Getting off the Lufthansa plane, listening to the announcements in German, and saying “auf wiedersehen, tschuess” to the flight attendants, I realized that was the last German I will hear or speak for probably a long time. Honestly, it was a pretty good feeling. I never got over the discomfort of speaking German as my primary communication, even though I am fluent and have no problems in using the language – German just doesn’t fit me as well as English does. I now understand why Ricky Ricardo always yells at Lucy in Spanish.
Anyway, back to the story. While standing in Line Number One of customs they brought the dogs around to sniff people’s bags. Stupid Robin forgot to eat her orange she brought as a snack for the plane, and bringing citrus into the country is outlawed, so the dog caught it and the guy had to stop me and make a note on my customs form. Rather than being gruff and rude about it, like would have happened Over There, the guy was all smiles and completely relaxed, let me pet the dog, and said “oh it’s no big deal, don’t worry about it! I just have to make a note on your form, that’s all, and it’s fine!” I breathed a big sigh of relief.
Line Number Two of customs they confiscated my orange, but there were no funny stories there. Line Number Three I had to go through security again, just in case passengers acquired any deadly weapons between when we got on the plane and when we got off, and I forgot to take my laptop out of my bag. They caught it when it went through the scanner, and I immediately exclaimed “oh no! I am so sorry! I just forgot, I’m so sorry!” The guards smiled and said “aw honey, don’t worry about it, just take it back and send it through the machine again, it’s ok!” It was nice not to have anyone yell at me or be rude to me, and actually smile!
(Meanwhile, the airport was burning hot to me – after being in consistent below-freezing temperatures, the 50-degrees of Atlanta was sweltering. By the time I got to the end of the lines I had taken off my socks and shoes and was glad I had a pair of flip flops in my backpack, and had only a t-shirt on my upper half (no more jackets and sweaters and scarves).)
Success – I made it through customs in one piece, and could finally go meet Chris on the other side of the gate! The poor thing had been waiting for three hours because of the plane delays and the long customs lines. We got my suitcases, went to the parking lot, and got in his gigantic car. Definitely one of the biggest cars I’d seen since I had been in Europe, but hey, this is America! It was 6:00pm, and had I been in Germany, by the looks of the sky I would have guessed the time to be 4:20. So glad it’s not pitch black by 4:30 anymore!
Most of the ride home I was speechless, just staring out the windows and looking around. It’s silly, really, because I know what Atlanta looks like and know how it is different from where I have been, but I was floored by the sheer size and sprawl of it all. The city was huge, the highways were expansive, the buildings were so far apart…it was definitely home, but such a contrast to what I had been living in before.
Dinner that night was, of course, barbecue at Pete’s. Chris laughed at my excitement every time my glass of sweet tea was refilled (hey, free refills are still a novelty for me) and my big smiles every time Chef Pete came to the table to check on us and say hi.
The next morning we woke up and got right in the car to drive to Raleigh. We had to drive separately until Charlotte, which meant I had to get behind the wheel for the first time since I left the country – in the pouring rain for a three hour drive. What they say about driving is true – it’s just like riding a bike, and you never forget how. The only problem I had was actually remembering I had to concentrate and pay attention the whole time, unlike riding a train when you can zone out or go to sleep. No, I didn’t zone out or go to sleep, of course, but I had to keep it in my conscious mind because it wasn’t totally natural yet.
We stopped at B0jangles somewhere in South Carolina just to use the bathroom (so happy to have free bathrooms!), and I walked out of my stall to see a gigantic woman about three times the size of me washing her hands. Probably the biggest sized person I have seen since I left the country. Whoa.
I requested that day’s lunch to be Wendy’s greasy fast food. It was glorious.
The next interesting event was my first time back in Wa|mart, and I’m sure I don’t have to elaborate much for you to imagine why it was crazy for me. I’ll just say that the little foyer where they keep the grocery carts is the size of the largest grocery store I’d been in in Germany.
I’m also having to re-learn how to dress for this climate. No more sweaters, heavy coats, scarves, hats, and boots – but how much has my body acclimated to cold weather? I’m still trying to figure it out.
Each day gets a little more normal for me, but I am trying return to this life without forgetting what I have learned since I’ve been gone, and find a balance between the two.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Monday, December 31, 2007
HOME!
Wow, ok, so it's been another long while since I've updated.
Since I last posted, I have tied up all loose ends in Dresden, went to Vienna with my parents and sister, officially left Germany, and am now in Raleigh, where I'll be until Friday. There are plenty of stories and I will post them in due time, but for now I'll let it suffice to say that I am HOME! :-)
Since I last posted, I have tied up all loose ends in Dresden, went to Vienna with my parents and sister, officially left Germany, and am now in Raleigh, where I'll be until Friday. There are plenty of stories and I will post them in due time, but for now I'll let it suffice to say that I am HOME! :-)
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Paris pictures
are finally all up and labeled and stuff. If you looked at them before they weren't complete, so check em out again!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Three Month Reflection...sort of.
I just remembered I am a few weeks overdue for my “three month reflection.”
The lower frequency of posts lately is because of two reasons. Firstly, the longer I stay here the less remarkable and notable things seem and the less inclined I am to write about them. Secondly, as my time in Europe is waning I am getting myself out the door and trying to see as much of it as possible, and the more I am away the less I want to write. But I guess I should be writing anyway.
So what’s happened in the past month (and a half)? Wow. A lot. Almost exactly one month ago I took the first steps in making arrangements to come home. A little over one month ago I went to Berlin, which was the start of my travel period. And after that point, life got better.
I finally admitted to myself once and for all that this place, this university, this activity, this everything, is just not for me. Once I accepted that it was ok to feel that way I was able to eliminate a lot of negative emotions. I am not being cowardly by backing down, but instead I am courageous by speaking up and saying “this is not right, I have to change it.” It would have been the easy way out to just keep going because it’s what I was “supposed to do,” but if there’s one lesson I have learned from this mess, it’s that I am the only one who is really looking out for me and taking care of me – and this is what I need to do to take care of me.
I mentioned in a previous post that my trip to Prague was the first time I really felt like “me” since I’ve been in Europe. My trip to Prague was also my first time out of GERMANY since I’ve been over here – and to me that was the difference. When I set foot on German soil I adopted the mindset of “ok, I’m not a tourist here. I live here. I need to blend in, I need to learn the German way of life, I need to act like a German because I live here now.” I put a lot of pressure on myself to become “Germanified,” and as a result a huge dichotomy developed inside me between the person I knew I was and the person I felt like I had to be to fit in here. I like to talk to people, I like to interact with people, I like to smile and be smiled at, I like to occasionally eat lunch with people I don’t know in the cafeteria, I like to know that I can ask strangers questions if I need to without angering them, I like to acknowledge people and be acknowledged. I’m sure you remember from previous posts, but Germans don’t do any of that. It’s a very closed and isolated society here – it’s not a bad thing but very different than what I am used to. In the beginning I felt invisible every time I would smile at people, or got no reaction from people when I was nice and polite and said please and thank you. I tried to learn how to “act German,” but I hated it, because that’s not who I am.
When I went to Prague it was my first time out of the country that was supposed to be my home. I realized that even if I were “German” it wouldn’t matter, because in Prague I wasn’t in Germany anymore and I’d be a tourist either way. I was finally able to shake that ill-fitting temporary German identity and get back in touch with the more authentic Robin. I hadn’t realized how far I had slipped away. It made my return to Germany that much harder because I didn’t want to get swallowed up in that again, and now that I was aware of it all, it was that much more uncomfortable. But I could return with the comfort of knowing that it was only temporary.
Though all these experiences I have learned that I don’t really NEED people – but man, I really miss people. Traveling by yourself is lonely. Living (essentially) by yourself is lonely. Not having a group of people to interact with on a daily basis is lonely. Eating most meals by yourself is lonely. I can do it, I have done it, but I don’t like it. And I’ll be happy to get out of it.
So this month I’ve just been doing a lot of traveling, not only trying to stay out of the environment I dislike as much as possible but also making sure I take advantage of the short time I have left. I’ve been trying to see things instead of writing about things, and trying not to think so much and instead just DO. (Although I did feel the need to write a lot about Paris, because it was also an interesting learning experience.)
I changed trains in Frankfurt on the way back from Paris, and it was a weird experience like going back in time – even though it was only three months ago. Much of the city looked unfamiliar to me, much like how my experiences there now feel, and it made me think about what’s happened since then.
I was a bundle of nerves before I got on the plane to Germany, of course, and in a conversation with Chris I remember saying/asking/worrying “ok, so I get to Frankfurt…then what? Once I get off the plane, what do I do?” He just calmly told me “you’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. You’ll get a taxi, you’ll get to the hotel, then you’ll figure it out.” Of course he was right, and looking back on it all and seeing what I’ve done since then, I’m pretty proud of how far I’ve come.
Not only did I “figure it out” once I got to Frankfurt, but I have also traveled to several cities in several countries – oftentimes by myself – since then. I planned my own trips from start to finish. I mastered the Paris metro system, I navigated the streets of Berlin, I survived in countries where I did not speak the language – and used only my own knowledge, capabilities, and common sense. And a map. It’s not an experience like navigating the Yukon wilderness or the open ocean, but it builds character just the same. I have learned how to rely on myself and be successful.
Back to Frankfurt. After three months of Dresden, living in an internationally diverse city with a group of solid friends and a program that was interested in our wellbeing seems like a dream. Why was that month so hard? Why was I unhappy?
After looking back, I think Dresden and Frankfurt fall on two opposite ends of the spectrum, where the optimal situation is in the middle. To me, Frankfurt meant limits. I felt like someone was holding my reins and wasn’t letting me reach my full potential – yeah, I was speaking German, but not as much and not as well as I knew I was capable of in another situation. Yeah, I had friends, and luckily they were nice people, but because I was in an international language school with no interaction to the outside community I couldn’t look further. There was no life outside of language school and the explorations we created for ourselves – a bunch of Americans with varying knowledge of German attempting to learn this unfamiliar city. There were no other activities available. I looked forward to Dresden because it meant opportunities and growth and expanding boundaries.
How wrong I was. Dresden instead also meant zero opportunities – but for a different reason than Frankfurt. Dresden meant I couldn’t participate in potential activities, that I stood on the sidelines and watched, that I couldn’t get my foot in the door enough to be noticed and be allowed to be included. It meant seeing opportunities just beyond the horizon but never being given the tools needed to succeed.
Like I said, Frankfurt and Dresden are on two different ends of the spectrum – I have learned that in order for me to be happy I don’t want walls and a ceiling, but I do need a ladder. Or at least the tools to build my own ladder.
The lower frequency of posts lately is because of two reasons. Firstly, the longer I stay here the less remarkable and notable things seem and the less inclined I am to write about them. Secondly, as my time in Europe is waning I am getting myself out the door and trying to see as much of it as possible, and the more I am away the less I want to write. But I guess I should be writing anyway.
So what’s happened in the past month (and a half)? Wow. A lot. Almost exactly one month ago I took the first steps in making arrangements to come home. A little over one month ago I went to Berlin, which was the start of my travel period. And after that point, life got better.
I finally admitted to myself once and for all that this place, this university, this activity, this everything, is just not for me. Once I accepted that it was ok to feel that way I was able to eliminate a lot of negative emotions. I am not being cowardly by backing down, but instead I am courageous by speaking up and saying “this is not right, I have to change it.” It would have been the easy way out to just keep going because it’s what I was “supposed to do,” but if there’s one lesson I have learned from this mess, it’s that I am the only one who is really looking out for me and taking care of me – and this is what I need to do to take care of me.
I mentioned in a previous post that my trip to Prague was the first time I really felt like “me” since I’ve been in Europe. My trip to Prague was also my first time out of GERMANY since I’ve been over here – and to me that was the difference. When I set foot on German soil I adopted the mindset of “ok, I’m not a tourist here. I live here. I need to blend in, I need to learn the German way of life, I need to act like a German because I live here now.” I put a lot of pressure on myself to become “Germanified,” and as a result a huge dichotomy developed inside me between the person I knew I was and the person I felt like I had to be to fit in here. I like to talk to people, I like to interact with people, I like to smile and be smiled at, I like to occasionally eat lunch with people I don’t know in the cafeteria, I like to know that I can ask strangers questions if I need to without angering them, I like to acknowledge people and be acknowledged. I’m sure you remember from previous posts, but Germans don’t do any of that. It’s a very closed and isolated society here – it’s not a bad thing but very different than what I am used to. In the beginning I felt invisible every time I would smile at people, or got no reaction from people when I was nice and polite and said please and thank you. I tried to learn how to “act German,” but I hated it, because that’s not who I am.
When I went to Prague it was my first time out of the country that was supposed to be my home. I realized that even if I were “German” it wouldn’t matter, because in Prague I wasn’t in Germany anymore and I’d be a tourist either way. I was finally able to shake that ill-fitting temporary German identity and get back in touch with the more authentic Robin. I hadn’t realized how far I had slipped away. It made my return to Germany that much harder because I didn’t want to get swallowed up in that again, and now that I was aware of it all, it was that much more uncomfortable. But I could return with the comfort of knowing that it was only temporary.
Though all these experiences I have learned that I don’t really NEED people – but man, I really miss people. Traveling by yourself is lonely. Living (essentially) by yourself is lonely. Not having a group of people to interact with on a daily basis is lonely. Eating most meals by yourself is lonely. I can do it, I have done it, but I don’t like it. And I’ll be happy to get out of it.
So this month I’ve just been doing a lot of traveling, not only trying to stay out of the environment I dislike as much as possible but also making sure I take advantage of the short time I have left. I’ve been trying to see things instead of writing about things, and trying not to think so much and instead just DO. (Although I did feel the need to write a lot about Paris, because it was also an interesting learning experience.)
I changed trains in Frankfurt on the way back from Paris, and it was a weird experience like going back in time – even though it was only three months ago. Much of the city looked unfamiliar to me, much like how my experiences there now feel, and it made me think about what’s happened since then.
I was a bundle of nerves before I got on the plane to Germany, of course, and in a conversation with Chris I remember saying/asking/worrying “ok, so I get to Frankfurt…then what? Once I get off the plane, what do I do?” He just calmly told me “you’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. You’ll get a taxi, you’ll get to the hotel, then you’ll figure it out.” Of course he was right, and looking back on it all and seeing what I’ve done since then, I’m pretty proud of how far I’ve come.
Not only did I “figure it out” once I got to Frankfurt, but I have also traveled to several cities in several countries – oftentimes by myself – since then. I planned my own trips from start to finish. I mastered the Paris metro system, I navigated the streets of Berlin, I survived in countries where I did not speak the language – and used only my own knowledge, capabilities, and common sense. And a map. It’s not an experience like navigating the Yukon wilderness or the open ocean, but it builds character just the same. I have learned how to rely on myself and be successful.
Back to Frankfurt. After three months of Dresden, living in an internationally diverse city with a group of solid friends and a program that was interested in our wellbeing seems like a dream. Why was that month so hard? Why was I unhappy?
After looking back, I think Dresden and Frankfurt fall on two opposite ends of the spectrum, where the optimal situation is in the middle. To me, Frankfurt meant limits. I felt like someone was holding my reins and wasn’t letting me reach my full potential – yeah, I was speaking German, but not as much and not as well as I knew I was capable of in another situation. Yeah, I had friends, and luckily they were nice people, but because I was in an international language school with no interaction to the outside community I couldn’t look further. There was no life outside of language school and the explorations we created for ourselves – a bunch of Americans with varying knowledge of German attempting to learn this unfamiliar city. There were no other activities available. I looked forward to Dresden because it meant opportunities and growth and expanding boundaries.
How wrong I was. Dresden instead also meant zero opportunities – but for a different reason than Frankfurt. Dresden meant I couldn’t participate in potential activities, that I stood on the sidelines and watched, that I couldn’t get my foot in the door enough to be noticed and be allowed to be included. It meant seeing opportunities just beyond the horizon but never being given the tools needed to succeed.
Like I said, Frankfurt and Dresden are on two different ends of the spectrum – I have learned that in order for me to be happy I don’t want walls and a ceiling, but I do need a ladder. Or at least the tools to build my own ladder.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Paris Part Deux
As it turns out I do have a few more stories to share from Paris:
For lunch on my last day I went to a Chinese restaurant. It was where I was when I got hungry and the price was right, and only after I walked in the door was I struck with panic – what if these Paris-residing Chinese people don’t speak English? I don’t speak French or Chinese! Luckily the guy there did speak quite good English, and he was nice.
After lunch I went to Starbucks (I know, I know) for a cup of coffee. As I walked in the door one of the baristas turned to the girl next to her and giggled as she said “French-french-french-french-American-Eagle-french-french-french!” This comment was of course in reference to my blue American Eagle coat. I started laughing, and looked down at my jacket and asked if it really did say “American Eagle” on there? She said “no – but I know it is because I have the same one!” You can meet fellow ex-pats everywhere!
Coffee in one hand and camera in the other, I headed to the Champs Elysees area to check it out during the day. I was enjoying all the beautiful buildings and marveling at the original stores of all the famous Parisian companies – Loreal, Chanel, Cartier, Dior, etc. The next beautiful building I came across was the American Embassy – “how cool that it’s here in the middle of all these beautiful things!” I thought. CLICK went my camera. The next thing I heard was the sound of a guard’s whistle, and I suddenly realized what I had done.
Holy cow, was I an idiot?!?! I took a picture of the American Embassy! The guard came running toward me and I immediately started apologizing. I knew better, I really did, I had just forgoten, and I showed him that I immediately deleted the picture. He was nice about it, fortunately, and no harm was done, but I really couldn’t believe I had been that stupid.
Now embarrassed at sticking out like an obnoxious American tourist for the third time today, I continued toward Champs Elysees anyway – camera still in one hand……and an empty hand. Before lunch I made a stop at Hard Rock Café to get Chris a glass – but I had left it in the Chinese restaurant. I turned around, walked back past the guards at the embassy, and retraced my steps to the restaurant. Smooth…real smooth.
Next I will address in general how I learned to deal with French people. I think I had a lot of success because even though I don’t speak French, I am very polite and courteous – probably unlike most obnoxious American tourists. Every time I would interact with someone the first thing I said was an apology for not speaking French, THEN I would ask if they spoke English, then thank them for speaking English with me. I always made sure to say “bonjour” and “merci” or “pardon” on the Metro to let them know I was trying. I never ran into any problems and everyone was always polite back to me.
But it is true that they do get offended very easily. I decided on my last night that I wanted to shop for a coat. Everyone in Paris wore beautiful coats, and a few days earlier I had seen some for very reasonable prices, but of course I couldn’t remember where they were. I settled on browsing the area near my hotel. I tried on coats in two stores – in the beginning the store clerks were extremely helpful, and helped me pick out what would look good and helped me put them on. Only after I said “I’m sorry but it’s just not what I’m looking for” would they give me the cold shoulder and start pouting, and wouldn’t even look at me or say goodbye when I left the store (but I made sure to thank them for their help). Yes, it felt like I was doing business with kindergarteners, but I guess that’s their sales strategy – to guilt the customers into feeling bad enough to buy clothes. Sorry, but that tactic doesn’t work on me.
One last thought – speaking of stores, their store closing ritual was bizarre to me. Before we ate dinner one night Paul wanted to run into a store to find a Christmas present for his brother. I stayed in the women’s section while he went upstairs to the men’s. It was about 7:40 and the store closed at 8. When the clock struck 7:45 they made an announcement that the store was about to close, and suddenly everyone flocked to the exits. I moved closer to the door and waited on Paul, but a lady actually came up to me and said “our store is closing you need to leave” (well, it was in French, but I’m assuming that’s what she said because she pointed sternly toward the door) – meanwhile my watch still said 7:45. Apparently when French stores close at 8, it means they want you out so they can go home at 8. At least that’s what I took from it.
For lunch on my last day I went to a Chinese restaurant. It was where I was when I got hungry and the price was right, and only after I walked in the door was I struck with panic – what if these Paris-residing Chinese people don’t speak English? I don’t speak French or Chinese! Luckily the guy there did speak quite good English, and he was nice.
After lunch I went to Starbucks (I know, I know) for a cup of coffee. As I walked in the door one of the baristas turned to the girl next to her and giggled as she said “French-french-french-french-American-Eagle-french-french-french!” This comment was of course in reference to my blue American Eagle coat. I started laughing, and looked down at my jacket and asked if it really did say “American Eagle” on there? She said “no – but I know it is because I have the same one!” You can meet fellow ex-pats everywhere!
Coffee in one hand and camera in the other, I headed to the Champs Elysees area to check it out during the day. I was enjoying all the beautiful buildings and marveling at the original stores of all the famous Parisian companies – Loreal, Chanel, Cartier, Dior, etc. The next beautiful building I came across was the American Embassy – “how cool that it’s here in the middle of all these beautiful things!” I thought. CLICK went my camera. The next thing I heard was the sound of a guard’s whistle, and I suddenly realized what I had done.
Holy cow, was I an idiot?!?! I took a picture of the American Embassy! The guard came running toward me and I immediately started apologizing. I knew better, I really did, I had just forgoten, and I showed him that I immediately deleted the picture. He was nice about it, fortunately, and no harm was done, but I really couldn’t believe I had been that stupid.
Now embarrassed at sticking out like an obnoxious American tourist for the third time today, I continued toward Champs Elysees anyway – camera still in one hand……and an empty hand. Before lunch I made a stop at Hard Rock Café to get Chris a glass – but I had left it in the Chinese restaurant. I turned around, walked back past the guards at the embassy, and retraced my steps to the restaurant. Smooth…real smooth.
Next I will address in general how I learned to deal with French people. I think I had a lot of success because even though I don’t speak French, I am very polite and courteous – probably unlike most obnoxious American tourists. Every time I would interact with someone the first thing I said was an apology for not speaking French, THEN I would ask if they spoke English, then thank them for speaking English with me. I always made sure to say “bonjour” and “merci” or “pardon” on the Metro to let them know I was trying. I never ran into any problems and everyone was always polite back to me.
But it is true that they do get offended very easily. I decided on my last night that I wanted to shop for a coat. Everyone in Paris wore beautiful coats, and a few days earlier I had seen some for very reasonable prices, but of course I couldn’t remember where they were. I settled on browsing the area near my hotel. I tried on coats in two stores – in the beginning the store clerks were extremely helpful, and helped me pick out what would look good and helped me put them on. Only after I said “I’m sorry but it’s just not what I’m looking for” would they give me the cold shoulder and start pouting, and wouldn’t even look at me or say goodbye when I left the store (but I made sure to thank them for their help). Yes, it felt like I was doing business with kindergarteners, but I guess that’s their sales strategy – to guilt the customers into feeling bad enough to buy clothes. Sorry, but that tactic doesn’t work on me.
One last thought – speaking of stores, their store closing ritual was bizarre to me. Before we ate dinner one night Paul wanted to run into a store to find a Christmas present for his brother. I stayed in the women’s section while he went upstairs to the men’s. It was about 7:40 and the store closed at 8. When the clock struck 7:45 they made an announcement that the store was about to close, and suddenly everyone flocked to the exits. I moved closer to the door and waited on Paul, but a lady actually came up to me and said “our store is closing you need to leave” (well, it was in French, but I’m assuming that’s what she said because she pointed sternly toward the door) – meanwhile my watch still said 7:45. Apparently when French stores close at 8, it means they want you out so they can go home at 8. At least that’s what I took from it.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Paris!
It’s Friday night and I’m sitting here in a café in the “arts district” of Paris, drinking a glass of wine, listening to Elvis, and catching up on what’s happening in the world. I am feeling particularly inspired to write a little bit about this city. I’ll approach it in two ways – by the unique experiences and things I have seen, and how it differs from Germany.
I mentioned last time that Paris reminds me of NYC. Everyone is extremely fashionable and I have never seen so many well dressed, well groomed people in one place before. The subways (“metros”) are also an experience unto themselves, but in a different way than New York. You don’t fear for your life when you make eye contact with someone, but it’s still a great place to people watch. Musicians also like to camp out in subway stations, or even get on trains, and play – on the trains I have seen accordion and fiddle players, and in the stations I have seen soprano sax with backup soundtrack recording, “karaoke” singer with backup recording, guitar, accordion, fiddle, and even a sitar. No joke – a sitar.
The difference between Parisian transportation and German transportation is the efficiency of the people who use it. In Germany it is typical for everyone who plans to get off on the next stop to move toward the doors as soon as the train leaves the previous stop, so as soon as the doors open everyone is ready to go. Here in Paris, however, no one moves until the doors open at the stop – then everyone gets up from their seats and deboards. In addition, no one pays any attention to the little red and green men for crossing the street – whereas the Germans would rather die a slow and painful death than cross the street on red. Both of these habits are behaviors I have had to adopt in order to blend into the German society but cause me to stick out when I am here. Paul laughed at me for hesitating every time we crossed the street, which I never did before my Germanification, and it was funny too because he said all his other friends who lived in Germany developed the same habit.
Parisians are badasses, and they know it. I mean, living in Paris automatically makes you a badass, and you have to be a badass to live in Paris. I have been pleasantly surprised by how nice people have been to me as an English speaker (because even though I speak another language it doesn’t matter, because I don’t speak FRENCH), but you can tell the people know they are all that and a bag of potato chips. They will sometimes ignore you and look down their noses at you, much like NYC, but I don’t mind it. To me it is actually a much more comfortable atmosphere than Germany – the people have to acknowledge your existence in order to choose to ignore you or choose to be “rude” to you, but in Germany the people look right through you and never acknowledge your existence in the first place. In Paris you know you’re not Parisian, but in Germany you feel invisible.
Last night at my hotel I met two guys from Cameroon – one was the desk clerk and the other was his friend who was just hanging out. As I came in for the night we struck up a conversation, and I ended up talking to them until almost 2am. They were wonderfully nice, and were very interested in hearing my abroad experiences and were eager to tell me about Africa. From the way they described the community atmosphere in their city, where everyone looks out for each other and everyone’s primary goal is to love life, it sounds wonderful. I also had an interesting insight into their culture when we spent almost an hour discussing a theoretical argument between husband and wife, and how it should be fixed and why. It was filled with “well what if this happened, what if she said this, how would you respond? But that won’t work, because a good husband would always do this. What happens if the situation is like this? How would you reach an agreement? Whose job is it to do this?” To me it was interesting to see how their community culture, described earlier in this conversation, was manifested in this problem-solving discussion as they helped each other talk through how to amend theoretical situations, how to be prepared for curve balls, and how to be honorable.
Apparently in Paris there is no tip in restaurants. I did not know this. My first Parisian meal was lunch, and I left the waiter a typical German 10% tip. The waiter was nice, and as I got ready to leave he chit chatted with me, asked me where I was from and how much longer I was in Paris, then invited me to come back to the restaurant before I left, then gave me his business card and said “I don’t work tonight, you should call me and we’ll get drinks.” I just smiled politely and said thanks, shrugged it off as “I’m in France,” and told the story to Paul as a good laugh over dinner. When we calculated our dinner bill and I went to put a little extra money for tip Paul set me straight, and then laughed because he said that’s probably why the waiter tried to ask me out – because I’d left him a tip on my lunch bill. Oops.
Speaking of French restaurants, they have a cool system called a formula where they create a 3 course meal (or 2 courses and coffee) for a set price, and each course has about three options to choose from. These formulas are much cheaper than ordering everything a la carte (see look at my French language skills!), although Paris in general is quite expensive. I also ate beef tar tar yesterday without knowing what it was – I knew I’d heard of it before, so I figured I couldn’t go wrong, until I got my plate and it was a patty of minced raw beef. It tasted ok, and I’m still alive, so I guess it was all fine.
I went to the Louvre today. Aside from being a tremendously huge and good museum, the building itself is beautiful. I didn’t know this before, but the building is actually the castle of the old French monarchy – so a corner of the museum is actually the old parlors, salons, and bedrooms of the castle. In addition, most rooms in the museum are pieces of artwork themselves due to the magnificent moldings and ceiling paintings. I got a front row view of the Mona Lisa, saw some Michelangelo sculptures, some mummies, and lots of other cool stuff. I’ll post pictures later.
I can’t remember much else now, but I’m sure I’ll have more stories later. I have one more day, then I head back to Dresden on Sunday.
I mentioned last time that Paris reminds me of NYC. Everyone is extremely fashionable and I have never seen so many well dressed, well groomed people in one place before. The subways (“metros”) are also an experience unto themselves, but in a different way than New York. You don’t fear for your life when you make eye contact with someone, but it’s still a great place to people watch. Musicians also like to camp out in subway stations, or even get on trains, and play – on the trains I have seen accordion and fiddle players, and in the stations I have seen soprano sax with backup soundtrack recording, “karaoke” singer with backup recording, guitar, accordion, fiddle, and even a sitar. No joke – a sitar.
The difference between Parisian transportation and German transportation is the efficiency of the people who use it. In Germany it is typical for everyone who plans to get off on the next stop to move toward the doors as soon as the train leaves the previous stop, so as soon as the doors open everyone is ready to go. Here in Paris, however, no one moves until the doors open at the stop – then everyone gets up from their seats and deboards. In addition, no one pays any attention to the little red and green men for crossing the street – whereas the Germans would rather die a slow and painful death than cross the street on red. Both of these habits are behaviors I have had to adopt in order to blend into the German society but cause me to stick out when I am here. Paul laughed at me for hesitating every time we crossed the street, which I never did before my Germanification, and it was funny too because he said all his other friends who lived in Germany developed the same habit.
Parisians are badasses, and they know it. I mean, living in Paris automatically makes you a badass, and you have to be a badass to live in Paris. I have been pleasantly surprised by how nice people have been to me as an English speaker (because even though I speak another language it doesn’t matter, because I don’t speak FRENCH), but you can tell the people know they are all that and a bag of potato chips. They will sometimes ignore you and look down their noses at you, much like NYC, but I don’t mind it. To me it is actually a much more comfortable atmosphere than Germany – the people have to acknowledge your existence in order to choose to ignore you or choose to be “rude” to you, but in Germany the people look right through you and never acknowledge your existence in the first place. In Paris you know you’re not Parisian, but in Germany you feel invisible.
Last night at my hotel I met two guys from Cameroon – one was the desk clerk and the other was his friend who was just hanging out. As I came in for the night we struck up a conversation, and I ended up talking to them until almost 2am. They were wonderfully nice, and were very interested in hearing my abroad experiences and were eager to tell me about Africa. From the way they described the community atmosphere in their city, where everyone looks out for each other and everyone’s primary goal is to love life, it sounds wonderful. I also had an interesting insight into their culture when we spent almost an hour discussing a theoretical argument between husband and wife, and how it should be fixed and why. It was filled with “well what if this happened, what if she said this, how would you respond? But that won’t work, because a good husband would always do this. What happens if the situation is like this? How would you reach an agreement? Whose job is it to do this?” To me it was interesting to see how their community culture, described earlier in this conversation, was manifested in this problem-solving discussion as they helped each other talk through how to amend theoretical situations, how to be prepared for curve balls, and how to be honorable.
Apparently in Paris there is no tip in restaurants. I did not know this. My first Parisian meal was lunch, and I left the waiter a typical German 10% tip. The waiter was nice, and as I got ready to leave he chit chatted with me, asked me where I was from and how much longer I was in Paris, then invited me to come back to the restaurant before I left, then gave me his business card and said “I don’t work tonight, you should call me and we’ll get drinks.” I just smiled politely and said thanks, shrugged it off as “I’m in France,” and told the story to Paul as a good laugh over dinner. When we calculated our dinner bill and I went to put a little extra money for tip Paul set me straight, and then laughed because he said that’s probably why the waiter tried to ask me out – because I’d left him a tip on my lunch bill. Oops.
Speaking of French restaurants, they have a cool system called a formula where they create a 3 course meal (or 2 courses and coffee) for a set price, and each course has about three options to choose from. These formulas are much cheaper than ordering everything a la carte (see look at my French language skills!), although Paris in general is quite expensive. I also ate beef tar tar yesterday without knowing what it was – I knew I’d heard of it before, so I figured I couldn’t go wrong, until I got my plate and it was a patty of minced raw beef. It tasted ok, and I’m still alive, so I guess it was all fine.
I went to the Louvre today. Aside from being a tremendously huge and good museum, the building itself is beautiful. I didn’t know this before, but the building is actually the castle of the old French monarchy – so a corner of the museum is actually the old parlors, salons, and bedrooms of the castle. In addition, most rooms in the museum are pieces of artwork themselves due to the magnificent moldings and ceiling paintings. I got a front row view of the Mona Lisa, saw some Michelangelo sculptures, some mummies, and lots of other cool stuff. I’ll post pictures later.
I can’t remember much else now, but I’m sure I’ll have more stories later. I have one more day, then I head back to Dresden on Sunday.
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