A month and a day. I suppose you have reason to throw flaming projectiles, but I'm really hoping that you take mercy on me.
There really hasn't been all that much crazy and exciting going on. Sherman has no snow and it's quite warm, but Dallgow is freezing cold and there's snow. I had a week off of school, in which I did a lot of reading a decent amount of cello-playing. I went to a dance class and it was proven that I have not even an ounce of grace to my name. I dragged my newbie around Berlin on a sort-of tour.
And now it's a week after my break, and two weeks before the next massive exchange students of District 1940 meeting, and five weeks before I go to Barcelona with my host family.
The relative schedule of the next few months: I'll be gone in Barcelona for a week, and then there are two weeks of school vacation, and then I'm gone on Eurotour for three weeks, and then about three weeks after that, I'll probably be back in America. My exchange year is winding down.
I'll admit that I am excited to go back to the States. I miss my family, and I miss really knowing what's going on. However, I am sad that I'll be leaving Berlin. It's been a really fantastic six months (and a handful of days). I've met some really fantastic people and seen some amazing things. However, there have been times that I could have lived without. With the next four months looming, I'm trying really hard to not focus on those aspects. I'm trying to remember that I'm only here for a limited time, and I need to take the most that I can from it.
So my mind is conflicted - there's the part of me that's focusing on the things I'm missing, and the part of me that wants to do everything all at once. It's really difficult to find the perfect balance between the two, to remember where you come from, and where you are, at the same time. Exchange is a learning experience, so that's what I'm trying to do.
I apologize for the short, rather unorganized blog post, but, really, my mind has not been in a blogging sort of state, over the past few weeks. Hopefully that changes in the next few weeks. I thank all of my readers for your patience and continued reading of this strange blog. :)
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
A World Away, But in the Heart, the Same
Today I was on the train coming home from school and I looked out the window to see a brick building. This probably doesn't seem like that much of an event to most of you. But let me go into a little bit more detail.
There's a city (that's what we cowtown-inhabitants call it, at any rate) near my cowtown in the States. Jamestown used to be a pretty prosperous little town. The furniture manufacturing capital. Lots of Swedish immigrants. Robert H. Jackson grew up just outside the city. In Jamestown, there are a lot of very large red brick buildings. There's a specific one that I drove by almost every week of my life. The road we drove on was a bridge so you just saw the roof and the upper row of windows. All of them are broken, and in some places, the roof has fallen in. The bricks are that dark, orange-red that matches almost perfectly with the "Brick Red" (I wonder why) crayon in that crayon box you've got shoved in the corner (don't deny it). But the thing about Jamestown is that it's a pretty safe bet that at least one out of every five buildings you pass will have at least some portion of it built out of brick.
It's a city that's got that gritty, old industry feel. If you know where to look, and how to look at it, you can find beauty in every broken window, in every crumbling wall, in every dirty underpass. It's saturated in an exhausted, greasy feeling that tells of hard work and determination. It's old.
And it's funny, because whenever I'm in Jamestown, I kind of want to be back home. But seeing that building, I thought for a split second I was in Jamestown. It was so...familiar, seeing a single brick building take so long to go past my window. In that split second, I was back where I've spent so much time throughout my short nineteen years. All of a sudden, I was back in the car with my mom, talking about banal things, with the news on the radio. We were on the way to Burger King for breakfast after dropping my dad off at work, with the long trip to my grandparents' house ahead of us that night. We were on our way to Johnny's to get some hot dogs before grocery shopping. I was walking to my dad's work after a day at the Human Rights Camp, talking and walking with my new friends from the county. I was...home. In that split second, everything changed.
And then, in the next split second, I realized that the only trains that go through Jamestown are freights on the overpass right before Tim Horton's. I realized that the music blasting through my earbuds was German pop music. And I realized that I wasn't in Jamestown, but it didn't matter - I was at home. Taking the train after school. Ipod in, looking out the window, waiting to see the landmark that says I should go to the door now. Walking from the train station, trying (and failing) not to trip on the uneven cobbled sidewalks. Knowing what was going to come that evening, knowing what to expect. Happy to be on the way to my warm house, my wonderful host mom, our three dogs and four cats.
I'm an exchange student, and I'm on my third home in less than six months. Ich bin so stolz auf mich.
There's a city (that's what we cowtown-inhabitants call it, at any rate) near my cowtown in the States. Jamestown used to be a pretty prosperous little town. The furniture manufacturing capital. Lots of Swedish immigrants. Robert H. Jackson grew up just outside the city. In Jamestown, there are a lot of very large red brick buildings. There's a specific one that I drove by almost every week of my life. The road we drove on was a bridge so you just saw the roof and the upper row of windows. All of them are broken, and in some places, the roof has fallen in. The bricks are that dark, orange-red that matches almost perfectly with the "Brick Red" (I wonder why) crayon in that crayon box you've got shoved in the corner (don't deny it). But the thing about Jamestown is that it's a pretty safe bet that at least one out of every five buildings you pass will have at least some portion of it built out of brick.
It's a city that's got that gritty, old industry feel. If you know where to look, and how to look at it, you can find beauty in every broken window, in every crumbling wall, in every dirty underpass. It's saturated in an exhausted, greasy feeling that tells of hard work and determination. It's old.
And it's funny, because whenever I'm in Jamestown, I kind of want to be back home. But seeing that building, I thought for a split second I was in Jamestown. It was so...familiar, seeing a single brick building take so long to go past my window. In that split second, I was back where I've spent so much time throughout my short nineteen years. All of a sudden, I was back in the car with my mom, talking about banal things, with the news on the radio. We were on the way to Burger King for breakfast after dropping my dad off at work, with the long trip to my grandparents' house ahead of us that night. We were on our way to Johnny's to get some hot dogs before grocery shopping. I was walking to my dad's work after a day at the Human Rights Camp, talking and walking with my new friends from the county. I was...home. In that split second, everything changed.
And then, in the next split second, I realized that the only trains that go through Jamestown are freights on the overpass right before Tim Horton's. I realized that the music blasting through my earbuds was German pop music. And I realized that I wasn't in Jamestown, but it didn't matter - I was at home. Taking the train after school. Ipod in, looking out the window, waiting to see the landmark that says I should go to the door now. Walking from the train station, trying (and failing) not to trip on the uneven cobbled sidewalks. Knowing what was going to come that evening, knowing what to expect. Happy to be on the way to my warm house, my wonderful host mom, our three dogs and four cats.
I'm an exchange student, and I'm on my third home in less than six months. Ich bin so stolz auf mich.
Friday, December 30, 2011
The End of an Era and the Start of a New Year
Around this time, most people (in the West, at least) start getting really sentimental and try to say profound things about the year that's dying and the imminent birth of a new one. Usually, I couldn't care less. I might get a twinge of loss when I realize the symbolism, but it's never really been that much of a big deal for me. Life keeps on going, with new things to experience and things to forget, and no matter how you look at it, the past is in the past and you can't change it.
But there's something about this year coming to an end, my friends. This year my life changed in a way I never thought I would be blessed enough to experience. This year, I became an exchange student. I would be lying if I said that there wasn't a part of me that regrets the end of such a year. I'll never stop being an exchange student, even after I've gone back to the States. But I'll never get back to this point - the year that I became what I'll always be.
It's hard to put this feeling to words. I'm sitting here in my living room - the third living room I've called home this year. Music is playing - music I probably would never have picked in the States, and music that wouldn't have been playing in my first host family's house. But that music is in my ipod, and I've rocked out to it on the train in the last week. My host sister is playing monopoly on the wii, and my book and ipod are sitting on the coffee table. I just made some ramen-equivalent and I'm at home.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't with my family (my biological family) over Christmas. I didn't sing happy birthday to my mom and laugh at the cards that my aunts and uncles got her. I cried myself to sleep more times this year than any other year of my life. My heart has broken, and been pieced back together for more than one reason this year.
But, this year, I also flew across a ravine screaming in glee with my host mom, brother and sister right there with me. I stood on top of a mountain in the ruins of a thousand year old castle and looked out across the Rhine. I drank champagne on the banks of the Rhine. I introduced myself and gave a presentation about my home and family in German, after only a month of speaking the language. I climbed the Eiffel Tower with a girl I never would have met without Rotary. I walked through Versailles with a Turkish guy, a bunch of Brazilians, an Argentinian, and some Taiwanese girls. I saw and heard the Berliner Philharmoniker rehearse, and walked through one of the most beautiful parks in the world.
This calendar year is almost over. My exchange year is not. Sometimes it's hard to remember why I should stick it out. But then I think about the cello sitting in the other room, and the orchestra that I'll be joining the day after my birthday. I think about the Eurotrip, and going to Barcelona with my host family. I think about all the wonderful things that I've seen and done this year, and all the unbelievable stories I have to tell. Exchange is so much more than just living in another country for a year. This is the only way I can think to accurately describe and show this:
But there's something about this year coming to an end, my friends. This year my life changed in a way I never thought I would be blessed enough to experience. This year, I became an exchange student. I would be lying if I said that there wasn't a part of me that regrets the end of such a year. I'll never stop being an exchange student, even after I've gone back to the States. But I'll never get back to this point - the year that I became what I'll always be.
It's hard to put this feeling to words. I'm sitting here in my living room - the third living room I've called home this year. Music is playing - music I probably would never have picked in the States, and music that wouldn't have been playing in my first host family's house. But that music is in my ipod, and I've rocked out to it on the train in the last week. My host sister is playing monopoly on the wii, and my book and ipod are sitting on the coffee table. I just made some ramen-equivalent and I'm at home.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't with my family (my biological family) over Christmas. I didn't sing happy birthday to my mom and laugh at the cards that my aunts and uncles got her. I cried myself to sleep more times this year than any other year of my life. My heart has broken, and been pieced back together for more than one reason this year.
But, this year, I also flew across a ravine screaming in glee with my host mom, brother and sister right there with me. I stood on top of a mountain in the ruins of a thousand year old castle and looked out across the Rhine. I drank champagne on the banks of the Rhine. I introduced myself and gave a presentation about my home and family in German, after only a month of speaking the language. I climbed the Eiffel Tower with a girl I never would have met without Rotary. I walked through Versailles with a Turkish guy, a bunch of Brazilians, an Argentinian, and some Taiwanese girls. I saw and heard the Berliner Philharmoniker rehearse, and walked through one of the most beautiful parks in the world.
This calendar year is almost over. My exchange year is not. Sometimes it's hard to remember why I should stick it out. But then I think about the cello sitting in the other room, and the orchestra that I'll be joining the day after my birthday. I think about the Eurotrip, and going to Barcelona with my host family. I think about all the wonderful things that I've seen and done this year, and all the unbelievable stories I have to tell. Exchange is so much more than just living in another country for a year. This is the only way I can think to accurately describe and show this:
This was my life before exchange.
And this is my life after exchange happened to it.
You see, maybe my life is a little bit messier now, but it's certainly more colorful, and more interesting. :)
Happy New Year, everyone. :)
Thursday, December 1, 2011
On the Courage of the Human Race
Though we may not all realize it, we all have courage. Sometimes we don't see it behind the fear and uncertainty, but courage is in every one of us. Whether it's the courage to stand up against something we think is wrong, or the courage to risk something dear to us to help someone else, we all have it. It's part of being human. In extreme conditions, courage is brought out of us in an extraordinary way.
An explanation as to how the idea for this post came into existence: I've been reading Connie Willis' Blackout. It's about Oxford University in 2060, after time travel has been invented. It focuses on a few of the 'historians' who do the actual time-traveling, particularly those working on assignments during World War II. One of my favorite points-of-view is that of the girl who is observing the attitudes of those who lived in London during the Blitz. She's posing as a shop-girl and does her observing in a small air-raid shelter under a church which she shares with a varied group of Londoners including a mother and her three children, the vicar of the church under which they're hiding, and an as-yet unnamed elderly man who seems to come from noble roots.
As I'm reading, I am continually struck by the courage of these people, who, although fictional, are inspired by the millions of people who did live in London during World War II. Everyone who payed any attention during history class knows that Hitler tried his hardest to take England. His plan was to invade and seize control of England through a series of calculated attacks on London from the air. What he hadn't anticipated was the courage and determination of the Londoners. His experience with Neville Chamberlain had obviously left him underestimating the Englishmen. You see, they had decided that Hitler was not going to be allowed to win his war, nor was he going to be allowed to take their homeland. So they worked together and built air-raid shelters and huddled in them every night - rich noblemen sitting beside their servants, neighbors who couldn't stand each other, complete strangers sharing food and comforting each other. And then there were the thousands who volunteered to risk their lives to make sure people knew where shelters were. They would patrol the streets during raids to guide people to safety. There were the people who manned the anti-aircraft guns, and the people who saved St. Paul Cathedral by entering the burning landmark to pass pails of water to put out the fires.
Although it's rarely thought of or mentioned, the German pilots definitely had courage too. They knew that the Englishmen had anti-aircraft weapons, and they knew that there was a chance that they were going to get shot down. More than 5,000 were either killed or wounded. This number is nothing compared to the 40,000 English civilians killed, but it's still a pretty big number. They knew the risks, but they did it anyway.
Continuing, think about the Germans who knowingly hid Jews during the Holocaust. They knew they would be killed if they were found out to have been harboring Jews, but they didn't think about that. Or if they did, they didn't let anyone else see it. They knew what they had to do, and they did it.
There was the Evacuation of Dunkirk, in which over 300,000 French and English soldiers were evacuated from the shores of France to escape the approaching force of Germans. Who did it? The primarily-civilian owners of about 800 "little boats" on the southeastern coast of Britain. They all banded together and crossed the Channel to France to save their countrymen. It took nine days - any of which might have been the day Hitler's forces arrived.
I realize that I'm on exchange in Germany and that this is a touchy topic. So is the Civil War in America, Apartheid in South Africa, Pol Pot in Cambodia. Every country on earth has a point in history they can look at and wish they didn't have to. It's part of being human. What we need to remember is that it's in the past, and that mistakes should be learned from. I can't speak for the South Africans or Cambodians, but I know that I am proud to be an American, even with the Civil War and the innumerable other mistakes in our past, and that I'm also exceedingly proud to be an exchange student in Germany and therefore (I hope) an honorary German.
I think I'm rather courageous too. No, I never risked my life to guide someone to safety with bombs falling all around. I didn't pilot a plane in any war, I never hid someone the government wanted to kill, I don't own a boat, nor did I use one to help soldiers escape from Dunkirk. I've never stood up against the government, and I've never saved a life at the risk of my own. I haven't done any of these things people would call courageous or heroic. But I did leave my home for a year without knowing anyone in the place that was bound to be my home. I decided to give up my ability to communicate so I could learn a new language and become a more aware person. It's not that it's not exactly on the same level, but to me, what I've done has required some amount of courage. It's impossible to go into a school of strangers speaking a strange language and not think that you're at least kind of doomed. I think that exchange students are a pretty brave part of the human race.
Atticus Finch from Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird said the following regarding courage: "It's knowing you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."
I mean absolutely no offense by this post. If you are offended, I apologize greatly.
An explanation as to how the idea for this post came into existence: I've been reading Connie Willis' Blackout. It's about Oxford University in 2060, after time travel has been invented. It focuses on a few of the 'historians' who do the actual time-traveling, particularly those working on assignments during World War II. One of my favorite points-of-view is that of the girl who is observing the attitudes of those who lived in London during the Blitz. She's posing as a shop-girl and does her observing in a small air-raid shelter under a church which she shares with a varied group of Londoners including a mother and her three children, the vicar of the church under which they're hiding, and an as-yet unnamed elderly man who seems to come from noble roots.
As I'm reading, I am continually struck by the courage of these people, who, although fictional, are inspired by the millions of people who did live in London during World War II. Everyone who payed any attention during history class knows that Hitler tried his hardest to take England. His plan was to invade and seize control of England through a series of calculated attacks on London from the air. What he hadn't anticipated was the courage and determination of the Londoners. His experience with Neville Chamberlain had obviously left him underestimating the Englishmen. You see, they had decided that Hitler was not going to be allowed to win his war, nor was he going to be allowed to take their homeland. So they worked together and built air-raid shelters and huddled in them every night - rich noblemen sitting beside their servants, neighbors who couldn't stand each other, complete strangers sharing food and comforting each other. And then there were the thousands who volunteered to risk their lives to make sure people knew where shelters were. They would patrol the streets during raids to guide people to safety. There were the people who manned the anti-aircraft guns, and the people who saved St. Paul Cathedral by entering the burning landmark to pass pails of water to put out the fires.
Although it's rarely thought of or mentioned, the German pilots definitely had courage too. They knew that the Englishmen had anti-aircraft weapons, and they knew that there was a chance that they were going to get shot down. More than 5,000 were either killed or wounded. This number is nothing compared to the 40,000 English civilians killed, but it's still a pretty big number. They knew the risks, but they did it anyway.
Continuing, think about the Germans who knowingly hid Jews during the Holocaust. They knew they would be killed if they were found out to have been harboring Jews, but they didn't think about that. Or if they did, they didn't let anyone else see it. They knew what they had to do, and they did it.
There was the Evacuation of Dunkirk, in which over 300,000 French and English soldiers were evacuated from the shores of France to escape the approaching force of Germans. Who did it? The primarily-civilian owners of about 800 "little boats" on the southeastern coast of Britain. They all banded together and crossed the Channel to France to save their countrymen. It took nine days - any of which might have been the day Hitler's forces arrived.
I realize that I'm on exchange in Germany and that this is a touchy topic. So is the Civil War in America, Apartheid in South Africa, Pol Pot in Cambodia. Every country on earth has a point in history they can look at and wish they didn't have to. It's part of being human. What we need to remember is that it's in the past, and that mistakes should be learned from. I can't speak for the South Africans or Cambodians, but I know that I am proud to be an American, even with the Civil War and the innumerable other mistakes in our past, and that I'm also exceedingly proud to be an exchange student in Germany and therefore (I hope) an honorary German.
I think I'm rather courageous too. No, I never risked my life to guide someone to safety with bombs falling all around. I didn't pilot a plane in any war, I never hid someone the government wanted to kill, I don't own a boat, nor did I use one to help soldiers escape from Dunkirk. I've never stood up against the government, and I've never saved a life at the risk of my own. I haven't done any of these things people would call courageous or heroic. But I did leave my home for a year without knowing anyone in the place that was bound to be my home. I decided to give up my ability to communicate so I could learn a new language and become a more aware person. It's not that it's not exactly on the same level, but to me, what I've done has required some amount of courage. It's impossible to go into a school of strangers speaking a strange language and not think that you're at least kind of doomed. I think that exchange students are a pretty brave part of the human race.
Atticus Finch from Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird said the following regarding courage: "It's knowing you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."
I mean absolutely no offense by this post. If you are offended, I apologize greatly.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Clichés!! That Are Running Amuck!!! (Amuck, amuck, amuck!!)
The world is your oyster.
How many times have we heard that one? As many times as you told your parents whatever it is that made them believe you were an underachiever. I always thought it was stupid. As a matter of fact, I sort of still do...it's funny because that phrase totally just popped into my head as I was thinking about my blog. It was like, "Start your new post with me!!! Do it!!" Kind of like Donkey saying "Pick me! Pick me!" in Shrek...
But now that I'm an exchange student, that phrase is so darn applicable. I've been to Paris, I live in Berlin, I'm going to go to Barcelona, I'll be in Rome and Venice and Prague by the end of the year, maybe even London...the word literally is my oyster. If you're willing to call me a pearl, that is. I've seen so many things in the past three and a half months, and I'll be seeing so many more. It's blowing my mind how small the world is. My second host family's daughter is in my district, and I met a guy from Hungary who got really excited when he found out that I'm an American with my particular political views. My second host father's cousin or something is the current host father of one of the guys from my district who is living in Sweden. There's a guy in my Rotary club who works at the American Embassy and has met Condoleezza Rice, former President Bush and current President Obama...and there are so many other things that aren't popping into my head immediately. The world is my oyster.
Dreams do come true.
Umm...I live in Berlin. I'm learning the German language in the best way possible. I'm going to go to Barcelona, I've been to Paris, I'll be going to Rome and Venice and Prague. I live in Berlin. I'm an Exchange Student, for Pete's freaking sake. I know a lot of you readers know me (but as I found out by looking at my stats, there are some who I don't know, too) and have for quite a while. Especially my family will realize this, but I've wanted to be an exchange student since I knew what the combination of those two words in that context means. And ever since that vacation with my family eons ago, I've always wanted to come back to Germany. Here I am. In the capital of Germany. I have friends from around the world, I know how to say I Love Ponies in Portuguese. Okay, well...that last one hasn't exactly always been a dream of mine, but who can say that? Other than Portuguese and Brazilian people, I mean...
So yeah, dreams can come true. I happen to be an extremely lucky and extraordinarily blessed person who had one of her biggest dreams come true very early on in life. It gives me the confidence to go out and make all of my other dreams come true, too.
Hard work pays off.
Okay, this is probably one of those things you hate hearing. I know, sitting around and watching movies all day is very fun. (I know this one from experience, you can't argue with it. As if you'd want to...) But at the end of the day, all you did was sit around and watch a bunch of movies. But you gotta put in some effort, too. This one really ties into the last one - you can't make your dreams come true without hard work. And very rarely do dreams come true without you making them. I've been working toward my dream of doing an exchange before I even realized what I was doing. I worked hard in school (I could have worked harder, I'll admit it), I did a lot of extra-curricular activities. I didn't make (too many) stupid mistakes. I did my best to respect authority and obey the rules. And then there was all the effort that went into the application and making a good impression, smiling through headaches and wanting to punch people...
And if you've been reading this at all, you know that this year hasn't been all fun and games so far...and if you haven't been reading this at all....GO DO IT. Because it's awesome. :)
But really. Exchange is fun. But you can only get to the fun stuff after you've gone to school and given yourself a headache trying to understand, after going to Rotary meetings and smiling to all of the people you don't really know, and sitting there and trying not to fall asleep during the presentations that you can't understand no matter how hard you try. The fun comes between the waves of homesickness, the days when you wonder why you ever thought exchange was a good idea. So yeah. Hard work does pay off. It really does. I mean - I understood a German comedian the other day. Because I've been speaking German every freaking day for the past three and a half months. And I've made mistakes every other sentence I've said in German for those past three and a half months. The way I see it is that at least I'm providing comic relief to my host family. I mean, they can't tell me that it's not stressful to host an exchange student. I can bet they've all gotten sick of me at least once. Well, they say laughter is the best medicine....I'm sure as heck making them all laugh at my fumbling attempts to speak German.
You never know what you've got till it's gone.
Two words: SO TRUE. You don't know how wonderful those smothering mom hugs in very public places are until you can't have them. You don't realize how desperately you love the school that you hate because everyone knows everyone else until you go to school and don't know anyone. You can't know how wonderful that rumor everyone just spread about you is until you can't understand what they're saying about you. You can't know how welcome that feeling of oh-my-gosh-the-teacher-just-asked-me-a-question-and-I-don't-know-what-it-was can be until you can't understand anything, literally.
You really hate this term too. But go on exchange and you'll realize why it's said so doggone often.
Friends are forever.
Yes, yes. This is especially for you, Çinar.
Explanation time: I'm talking with my Turkish friend on facebook right now and he just started reading my blog and was shocked and very "angry" to learn that I had not put a picture of him on my blog. So here we go. I just hope that three pictures are an acceptable solution to the problem. :p (P.S. If you look really closely at the last one, you'll realize that his eyes aren't open...hehehehe)
Suck it up, Fluffy.
Okay, well, this one isn't really a cliché. But...it had to be mentioned. Immortalized. Written on the stone of the modern age.
This is another one of those ones that you learn to live by if you go on exchange. If you come from my family.
I'm leaving this post on this note as a friendly and loving shout-out (I hate that term) to my wonderful family who I love very much. I hope you guys have a wondertasticfantastamazing Thanksgiving. I can't wait to skype with you guys tomorrow. <3
How many times have we heard that one? As many times as you told your parents whatever it is that made them believe you were an underachiever. I always thought it was stupid. As a matter of fact, I sort of still do...it's funny because that phrase totally just popped into my head as I was thinking about my blog. It was like, "Start your new post with me!!! Do it!!" Kind of like Donkey saying "Pick me! Pick me!" in Shrek...
But now that I'm an exchange student, that phrase is so darn applicable. I've been to Paris, I live in Berlin, I'm going to go to Barcelona, I'll be in Rome and Venice and Prague by the end of the year, maybe even London...the word literally is my oyster. If you're willing to call me a pearl, that is. I've seen so many things in the past three and a half months, and I'll be seeing so many more. It's blowing my mind how small the world is. My second host family's daughter is in my district, and I met a guy from Hungary who got really excited when he found out that I'm an American with my particular political views. My second host father's cousin or something is the current host father of one of the guys from my district who is living in Sweden. There's a guy in my Rotary club who works at the American Embassy and has met Condoleezza Rice, former President Bush and current President Obama...and there are so many other things that aren't popping into my head immediately. The world is my oyster.
Dreams do come true.
Umm...I live in Berlin. I'm learning the German language in the best way possible. I'm going to go to Barcelona, I've been to Paris, I'll be going to Rome and Venice and Prague. I live in Berlin. I'm an Exchange Student, for Pete's freaking sake. I know a lot of you readers know me (but as I found out by looking at my stats, there are some who I don't know, too) and have for quite a while. Especially my family will realize this, but I've wanted to be an exchange student since I knew what the combination of those two words in that context means. And ever since that vacation with my family eons ago, I've always wanted to come back to Germany. Here I am. In the capital of Germany. I have friends from around the world, I know how to say I Love Ponies in Portuguese. Okay, well...that last one hasn't exactly always been a dream of mine, but who can say that? Other than Portuguese and Brazilian people, I mean...
So yeah, dreams can come true. I happen to be an extremely lucky and extraordinarily blessed person who had one of her biggest dreams come true very early on in life. It gives me the confidence to go out and make all of my other dreams come true, too.
Hard work pays off.
Okay, this is probably one of those things you hate hearing. I know, sitting around and watching movies all day is very fun. (I know this one from experience, you can't argue with it. As if you'd want to...) But at the end of the day, all you did was sit around and watch a bunch of movies. But you gotta put in some effort, too. This one really ties into the last one - you can't make your dreams come true without hard work. And very rarely do dreams come true without you making them. I've been working toward my dream of doing an exchange before I even realized what I was doing. I worked hard in school (I could have worked harder, I'll admit it), I did a lot of extra-curricular activities. I didn't make (too many) stupid mistakes. I did my best to respect authority and obey the rules. And then there was all the effort that went into the application and making a good impression, smiling through headaches and wanting to punch people...
And if you've been reading this at all, you know that this year hasn't been all fun and games so far...and if you haven't been reading this at all....GO DO IT. Because it's awesome. :)
But really. Exchange is fun. But you can only get to the fun stuff after you've gone to school and given yourself a headache trying to understand, after going to Rotary meetings and smiling to all of the people you don't really know, and sitting there and trying not to fall asleep during the presentations that you can't understand no matter how hard you try. The fun comes between the waves of homesickness, the days when you wonder why you ever thought exchange was a good idea. So yeah. Hard work does pay off. It really does. I mean - I understood a German comedian the other day. Because I've been speaking German every freaking day for the past three and a half months. And I've made mistakes every other sentence I've said in German for those past three and a half months. The way I see it is that at least I'm providing comic relief to my host family. I mean, they can't tell me that it's not stressful to host an exchange student. I can bet they've all gotten sick of me at least once. Well, they say laughter is the best medicine....I'm sure as heck making them all laugh at my fumbling attempts to speak German.
You never know what you've got till it's gone.
Two words: SO TRUE. You don't know how wonderful those smothering mom hugs in very public places are until you can't have them. You don't realize how desperately you love the school that you hate because everyone knows everyone else until you go to school and don't know anyone. You can't know how wonderful that rumor everyone just spread about you is until you can't understand what they're saying about you. You can't know how welcome that feeling of oh-my-gosh-the-teacher-just-asked-me-a-question-and-I-don't-know-what-it-was can be until you can't understand anything, literally.
You really hate this term too. But go on exchange and you'll realize why it's said so doggone often.
Friends are forever.
Yes, yes. This is especially for you, Çinar.
Suck it up, Fluffy.
Okay, well, this one isn't really a cliché. But...it had to be mentioned. Immortalized. Written on the stone of the modern age.
This is another one of those ones that you learn to live by if you go on exchange. If you come from my family.
I'm leaving this post on this note as a friendly and loving shout-out (I hate that term) to my wonderful family who I love very much. I hope you guys have a wondertasticfantastamazing Thanksgiving. I can't wait to skype with you guys tomorrow. <3
Thursday, November 17, 2011
I Write this from Behind an Impenetrable Wall...
I suppose the only redeeming fact that I can use to protect myself is that it has NOT been a full month since my last post...
Okay, well....since my last post....or rather, what I was going to say in what was supposed to have been my next post was that I love the Charité. Because it's an amazing research facility that is wonderful and let me come in and watch some of the work, to get an idea of what it's like to work in a lab. Well...let me put it this way - I think that I could definitely work in a lab. I have some photographic evidence of how awesome it is.
Okay, well....since my last post....or rather, what I was going to say in what was supposed to have been my next post was that I love the Charité. Because it's an amazing research facility that is wonderful and let me come in and watch some of the work, to get an idea of what it's like to work in a lab. Well...let me put it this way - I think that I could definitely work in a lab. I have some photographic evidence of how awesome it is.
It's brain cells!!!! Neurons and astrocytes and all sorts of fantastic things that can be found in that thing that's allowing you to read this!!!! Isn't it fabulously pretty? You know what makes it (if it's even possible, that is) prettier??? I DID THAT. It was a histology staining, and I was the one that prepared that particular sample. And a whole tray full of them too!! I had such a great time there.
Umm...I don't know really what happened between then and now...this is where you can all throw [virtual] rocks at me because if I had been a loyal and regular and really good blogger, then I would have posted before this and have remembered more and this post would be more than just two major events....
So I'm going to skip about three weeks into the future from that and go straight to......PARISREISE!!!
Yep. Every year, my district (of awesomeness) makes a trip to Paris. The City of Lights, The City of Love. As we found out, it also happens to be the City of Dirty, Sketchy Alleys Behind Your Hotel. But that's just an interesting smidgeon of information that really doesn't figure into the story all that much. CRAZY weekend. We left Thursday afternoon/evening around five. And when I say we, I mean 90 exchange students crammed onto two coach buses. If you've been reading closely, you'll be wondering, "90? I thought 1940 only had 60 or so? Is exchange impairing your math skills, Sarah?" To which I will reply that I never had any math skills. But yes, you're right. 1940 is only about sixty. But ParisReise is so freaking awesome that there were roughly 30 other kids from other districts (including one girl on exchange in ITALY) who came along with us.
We rolled into Paris around...gosh, I don't even remember....somewhere between 8 and 9 I'm going to say, on Friday morning. One bus went for food (not mine, of course...) while the other sat in the hotel and waited for rooms that were very reluctant to poof into existence. Eventually everything got sorted out and we all went for a walk - to the Metro station. Yes, 90 exchange students, clumped into many different circles, speaking many different languages (really, it was mostly just English, Spanish and Portuguese (there were about twenty Brazilians in the group)) standing around like bums (not really) in the Paris underground. This happened more times than I care to count.
Off to the Louvre we went.
Why yes, that is the Mona Lisa.
That, however, is my favorite thing in the entire museum. Although that's probably not a very okay thing to say because I don't think I saw everything in the museum - it's kinda freaking GINORMOUS. But....it probably would still be my favorite thing in the museum if I saw everything. It's La Victoire de Samothrace. It's...amazing. Here's a closer picture of it. That I didn't take.
It reminds me of a poem by Emily Brönte.
Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!
But in a totally opposite sort of way. I would love to say that I wrote a poetic response to that stanza with the statue in mind, but I didn't....but now I probably will tonight. There's something about standing there....I remember I was on the other side of the museum and I looked through the hall (as with so many big awesome museums, there are places where you can stand and see straight through to the other side) and saw it...I kind of stopped dead and had to go there to see it closer. I dragged the person I was with at that point along with me....there's a majestic strength that just...makes you want to lead the rebellion of a good cause or...something. It's a sort of Joan-of-Arc-y thing, I think...
Anyway...that was the biggest part of Friday. We did some other stuff too. Saturday was Versailles - I was superinsanelycrazilyfreakishly excited about Versailles. It was...not as superawesomeinsanelywonderful as I was thinking it was going to be. But we still had fun. :)
[Fake] Planking fun. :)
Me, sitting on a wall in the gardens of Versailles. Probably the best part of that part of the trip. Beautiful day, great memory.
Now, I know what you're all waiting for....I give you.......
THE EIFFEL TOWER!!! (Or, as my exhaustion-addled mouth/brain combination was wont to call it, the Tower of Paris...) This photo was taken....Saturday night. It was....beautiful. Now, in reality, the lights are yellow and the background is not black. I took some artistic liberties and had some fun with my iPhoto editor options. :) I like the way it turned out.
Umm...so...those last two pictures? Yeah...I took those from INSIDE THE EIFFEL TOWER. Because one of my wonderful Finnish friends and I decided to burn some calories and save some money - by climbing the Eiffel Tower's 700 open-to-the-public steps. It was....there aren't words. I really can't think of appropriate words to describe the feeling. I mean....I was high. Off the surface of the earth, and on life. It was....insane. One of the best feelings in the world. Seriously, if you go to Paris, do not take the elevator. Even though you don't get to go all the way to the top...the feeling you get from seeing the view that you CLIMBED to is...priceless.
This is my favorite view from the Tower. The photo of the tower at night? I took it from that open spot above the smaller pillars. Quite a view. We were all a little loopy on the view.
This is the video I took of the organ at Notre Dame. The video is a little worthless, but I wanted the audio....it's not very good quality, but...gosh...it was beautiful.
The first photo is the entire group in front of the Louvre (duh) and the second one is just a small group of us who ended up in the same place at the end of one of our free times in the vicinity of the Eiffel Tower.
So...that's my big monster huge long post...I hope it's enough to make up for my recent inadequacies. Please, let it be. I love you all. <3
Oh. And I'm moving host families in less than a month. I'm excited, but a little sad because I love my current host family. <3
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Don't Hate Me, Please...
Yes, I know. I've been an awful blogger. You have every right to hate me. But please, don't.
My word, but it's been a while. The last time I typed away was before the holidays. Well, the holidays have come...and gone. This is a very, very sad-making thing. Fall holidays are a beautiful thing, and the week after fall holidays is an exceedingly awful thing. I hate it. But first, I shall relate to you why fall holidays are so fantastamazingful thing.
Saturday morning, we all piled into the car and drove off to Bottrop. It took about six hours, and I have to admit that I got a wave of homesickness when we stopped at the rest stop, thinking about all the times I've stopped at rest stops with my parents on the way to my aunt and uncle's house. It was something I did not expect to result in a wave of homesickness, but somehow, the worst waves are always the ones that come from the things you least expect to inspire them.
On Sunday, we went to a strange park. It's like an amusement park, but there's no electricity. It's all powered by the forces of the earth (a bunch of huge slides that you go down on a carpet) or human energy (little bike/gokart things). I liked it, but I think I would have enjoyed it more if I were younger. It was a good day, all in all.
On Monday, we went to see more of my host parents' family, at a big family dinner, after which we went to a suburb of Bonn, where another one of my host mom's sisters lives. It's a beautiful town, absolutely gorgeous. There's this big old mountain with ruins on the top, and vineyards spread over the side. It's like a quilt, with alternating squares of stripes. Absolutely gorgeous. The weather was great, and it reminded me of home. There was a magical feeling on top of the mountain, with the wind coming at you, able to see for miles around...
We also went down to the Rhine for a fire/picnic. The sun was setting, it was a brisk twilight, there was champagne, I was speaking German...it was amazing. I never would have thought that I would ever end up drinking champagne on the Rhine. Never. And here I am, having done it. It was amazing. I even have photographic proof.
My word, but it's been a while. The last time I typed away was before the holidays. Well, the holidays have come...and gone. This is a very, very sad-making thing. Fall holidays are a beautiful thing, and the week after fall holidays is an exceedingly awful thing. I hate it. But first, I shall relate to you why fall holidays are so fantastamazingful thing.
Saturday morning, we all piled into the car and drove off to Bottrop. It took about six hours, and I have to admit that I got a wave of homesickness when we stopped at the rest stop, thinking about all the times I've stopped at rest stops with my parents on the way to my aunt and uncle's house. It was something I did not expect to result in a wave of homesickness, but somehow, the worst waves are always the ones that come from the things you least expect to inspire them.
On Sunday, we went to a strange park. It's like an amusement park, but there's no electricity. It's all powered by the forces of the earth (a bunch of huge slides that you go down on a carpet) or human energy (little bike/gokart things). I liked it, but I think I would have enjoyed it more if I were younger. It was a good day, all in all.
On Monday, we went to see more of my host parents' family, at a big family dinner, after which we went to a suburb of Bonn, where another one of my host mom's sisters lives. It's a beautiful town, absolutely gorgeous. There's this big old mountain with ruins on the top, and vineyards spread over the side. It's like a quilt, with alternating squares of stripes. Absolutely gorgeous. The weather was great, and it reminded me of home. There was a magical feeling on top of the mountain, with the wind coming at you, able to see for miles around...
We also went down to the Rhine for a fire/picnic. The sun was setting, it was a brisk twilight, there was champagne, I was speaking German...it was amazing. I never would have thought that I would ever end up drinking champagne on the Rhine. Never. And here I am, having done it. It was amazing. I even have photographic proof.
I wish I had more photos of Drachenfels, but my camera decided to be stupid and die as SOON AS WE GOT TO THE TOP. grr.
Hmm....my host parents and I went into Bonn the next day, which is a beautiful old city full of old buildings and cobbled streets and stores in corners and hidden behind and underneath gorgeous facades. Unfortunately, this also happened to be the day that I was being all stupid and mopey and homesick, so it could have been a lot better than it was. :/
And there ends the first week of my holidays, pretty much. I didn't do much the second part of that week, after we got home. As this post is already pretty long, and I have a feeling I'll be going on at more length about the second week of holidays, I will end this post here and pick up tomorrow or Friday. I only have one class tomorrow, so unless I go out and do something exciting, I will post again. :)
Good night, dear readers. Except for the fact that I'm the one going to sleep, but it's still afternoon for many of you....in which case, enjoy the rest of your day. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)