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! :-)

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!

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.

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.

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.

Better Late than Never

So....I haven't been posting much lately. Sorry! And I guess I forgot to mention that I'm currently in PARIS!

I won't write much now because, well, I'm in Paris and I'd rather do stuff than write. But I will say that it is beautiful, huge, diverse, and reminds me of NYC (without the skyscrapers and English speakers). I love it.

I'm splitting my time between a hostel and my friend Chris' old roommate, who is in grad school here and was nice enough to put me up for a few days and hang out with me. Accessible/free internet is hard to come by, so I'm sitting in a cafe getting wifi.

I put a few pictures up on Facebook but I'll put more up later. Look here!

Budapest!

Hm....where to begin? The trip was excellent. I saw everything and did everything! We toured the Parliament building, swam in the thermal baths, visited the beautiful old churches, saw a professional Hungarian folk dance show, enjoyed the Christmas markets, explored the castle district, crossed bridges over the Danube (cue the music...), and many more things I'm sure I'm leaving out. I ate nothing but (excellently cooked) traditional Hungarian food, learned tons about the history of the Hungarian people, and even learned a few words along the way!

Yes those were all the events from Budapest, but what stands out most in my mind is the wonderful warm and fuzzy feeling that resulted from being in the company of a good friend while doing all these fun things. Even simple activities like walking down the street or riding the bus were much more enjoyable when I had someone familiar with me. Actually having conversation over lunch (and breakfast, and dinner) was a rare pleasure. I felt so privileged to be able to experience Budapest like a "local," and so lucky to have a friend who made sure everything was perfect. (Anna I know you read this blog, but it's all true and I'd write it even if you didn't read it!)

This weekend was also probably the most culturally enlightening time of my stay in Europe. Anna was born and raised in Budapest but lived in the U.S. for two years (which is how we met), so she knows and understands both my home world and the world I live in now. We had great conversations all weekend comparing European and American culture, because we both have lived both sides. We covered the gamut from fashion to food to taxis to burglaries to universities to houses to hygiene to jobs to construction to restaurant service, and much more serious topics like how Europeans and Americans approach things like relationships and the physical body. I concluded that America is an overly cautious society that takes too many preventative measures because it is afraid people will do something stupid and blame the other guy, whereas Anna concluded that America does everything much simpler, not necessarily more cautious.

For example:
-Europeans don't individually label/identify the patients' names for their prescriptions, and there are no warning labels either
-There is no double yellow line on two way streets - just solid or dotted white lines
-They don't block off construction sites - people just walk right on through
-There are no "caution wet floor" signs, or anything of the sort
-Healthcare isn't as expensive because they don't have such outrageous malpractice insurance

And I don't remember what else we came up with. There's always the infamous McDonalds coffee lawsuit.

We also concluded that America is a much more prude society and oftentimes much more judgmental toward each other (i.e. when we were at the thermal baths, old men wore speedos and women walked around in just their bathing suits, whereas in America the women would all have coverups and the men wouldn't be caught dead in speedos, because they are too cautious and afraid of their appearances). But Europeans in general are much more fashion-conscious than Americans. Interesting.

I won't ramble any more about that topic; I could write pages about the comparisons between the two cultures. Maybe eventually I will, because I guess that's part of the purpose of this blog - to share these differences with you. I may sound slightly critical, but that is not my intention. It is merely a comparison as I experience another option of how things are done.