Red Light Indicates Doors are Secure

I feel as I must apologize for my all too lengthy absence from my blog. I won't. Instead of wasting the time and space to apologize (because honestly, we should keep this short) I'll just start where I left off. Or, two weeks from where I left off.

It may or may not surprise you that I am writing this blog entry from the sanctity of my own home. By my own home, I mean my house in South Carolina. Which is in America. Which isn't Germany. I won't go into the nasty details of why I'm back home (turns out murder is still a crime, even in Germany) but I will explain the horrors of the plane ride back. If there is one airport I will not recommend you fly out of (Columbia Metro) it is Frankfurt International. It is really just a pain to get through and no one seems to listen to the nice employees who really go out of their way to make sure you are waiting in line for 2 hours and nearly miss your flight. Thankfully, do to my calm demeanor, this didn't phase me one bit. At least at the time. I'm Jewish, I'm going to complain eventually it's in my blood. I once again was declined a window seat and had to sit in the middle of the damn plane. This required me to sit next to a full fledged Samurai (He could have fooled me. I wonder if he got randomly checked) and a Russian woman. My only problem with her was that German and Russian were her only languages and our aisle had the only flight attendant that only knew English. So I was designated translator. I lie, that wasn't my only problem. She wouldn't stop praying. I don't mean those regular 'Oh shit, I'm on a plane kind of prayers,' she was really getting into it. She did not trust this thing to get us over the ocean at all. To be honest, I thought she knew something I didn't. Especially since the channel which allows to listen to the cockpit had been cut off.

I arrived at Dulles and had to wait another hour for my bags to arrive. Also had a drug dog sneak around my back and proceed to jump onto my backpack. I thought that since I flipped out, they might decide that this kid needs to be searched, but I was lucky. I stayed in Virginia for the remainder of the week with the wonderful company of my Father and Stepmother. It was a good breather, and an even better way to kind of fit in back to American culture. I mean, 8 weeks in Germany didn't change too much.

My week in Virginia was cut short by a long car ride back to the gorgeous Southeastern America. It was already October by that time, and as everyone knows, October is the best month to be in South Carolina. Weather is near perfect (aside from it raining most of the time,) the State Fair is in town, and the Gamecocks are usually winning during this month, so most of the population is satisfied. After travelling 16 hours, 8 in a plane, 8 in a car, I was ready to just stop moving.

My body travels faster than my mind. I'm finding it harder to adjust to new surroundings, even if it just means driving down the street. I still feel like I am living in a completely surreal moment; I want to wake up and be back in Germany. I miss it terribly so, and although I knew this choice was the best choice, I still feel a sense of regret and even a tinge of guilt. I just don't want anyone to hold that against me.

My next post will be about some of the details of the past month, such as but not limited to: Mars Volta concert, the State Fair, life in general. For those that may notice the odd blog entry titles, I will fill you in on a little secret: The blog titles are either song titles, or song lyrics. It lets you know what I was listening to at the time, so maybe you can get a closer relationship between blogger and reader. I am no longer an ambassador, so I'll change the title in due time.

Bis bald.

And so it is...

The days last longer than the weeks. I, for one, am not a fan.

I Slowly Floated Away

For once, I have nothing to say. I have nothing to write about. It's been a week since the last post, and I should be brimming with stories. I have been having problems expressing myself lately, and this just solidified the fact that I am slowly breaking down. Not necessarily in a bad way, just in a way that I am not too comfortable with. The novelty is slowly dissipating.
I'm finally 18. I have an estimated 59 years left to live. But when you add in the drugs, cigarettes and alcohol, we can safely assume that number is significantly lower. Happy Birthday to me.

The Baron of Sentiment

This past week was my first week at school. I was not nervous (which surprised me) because I knew that all I had to do was follow around another student for the entire day. If I liked his schedule, I could keep it. I like his schedule. The student went on an exchange program last year to America, so his English is pretty much on par with mine (I must admit that my ability to speak English is slowly deteriorating.)
German schools are quite interesting. Some days the school last until 1pm. Other days until 4pm. And on Wednesday? 8-11:15. Although the school days are quite short, I feel completely worn out by the time I get home. Having everything taught in a different language is by far the most grueling task I have yet to encounter. However, my German is getting much better. I don't always have to translate everything in my head; I can just understand. I guess this is the first step to becoming fluent. Well, as fluent as I can be having only 2 weeks of pure German under my belt.
The teachers are very nice to me (they are only giving me grades based on my effort.) I have my qualms though. My English teacher is not a native speaker, and she is teaching British-English. I almost failed a grammar test (then again, I saw that one coming) because of some basic rules and preposition use. It turns out you don't live on a street, you live in a street. Is that just the British are have I been saying that wrong for years? My English teacher also cannot compare to Dr. Roof. Dr. Roof was more of a mentor and friend than a teacher. I enjoyed his class so much that even on days when I feel like skipping school, I would still go to his class. No teacher here has quite the 'teacher-student relationship.'
Are all economics teachers funny? My PoWi (Politiks und Wirkshaftlichkeit // Politics and Economics) teacher is incredibly hilarious. At least on the jokes that I can understand. Once again, he cannot possibly be any better of a teacher than Mr. McCormick. These kids are really missing out.
Last, but not least, my math teacher. I have always hated math. To me, math is hell. But I have been proven wrong. Math isn't hell. Math is purgatory. Math being taught in another language is hell. My math teacher is also slightly crazy (but I can completely forgive him for that since he has one of those awesome beard/mustache things going on.) But Stutts, Kerr, and Sabau could easily mop the floor with him. Once again, I feel like these kids are just missing out.
Friday I was invited to my neighbors birthday party. It was fun, I met a lot of new people. I also met someone who just couldn't stop telling me how much he loved America (he was quite drunk.) We partied like it was 1995 (not that I could possibly remember much of '95 but I assume it had roughly the same amount of mullets.)
I would also like to take the time to say thank you to the kids who go out of their way to help the poor exhange student in school. I've been lost on multiple occasions, only to have someone yell, "Hey Zeb!" and then proceed to point me in the right direction. Another day I missed my bus and someone helped me locate someone that lived in my village. That person then made sure I got onto the right bus, and saw me off at my stop. Even just stopping to say "Hi" and just being friendly really makes someones day when they are still trying to fit in to a new culture. Honestly, it puts a smile on my face and brightens my day.
I hope that my American comrades are all having a blast.

Bis bald.

The Past is a Grotesque Animal

Saturday was Stadtfest at Fritzlar. Fritzlar is the closest 'town' to my village and it's a very nice little town. I went with a fellow American (I've decided from here on in to leave names out of my blog. I don't mean any offense) and we tried hard to find something to keep our interest. There was an oldies cover band, which were old themselves. Whether or not they were singing in German or English is another question. It was all Greek to me. Except Cocaine. The song, not the drug. We had a beer and some fries at a Turkish restaurant. The waitress didn't seem to believe we were 18 (not that I am) but she didn't ask for our ID's anyway. We hung out and in general had a good time. I think we were both just glad to have a break from Germany. Trying to learn and listen takes its toll. A well deserved break is often required.
After the day at Fritzlar I went with my host brother to a little get-together he was having with his friends. We chilled, we destroyed our bodies, we chilled some more. Watched a movie in German with German subtitles (it helps alot more than watching with English subtitles.) Once again, it was a good night. I'm just glad to be actually doing something; I'm glad to be out and about.
Today I went to drop my older brother off at boarding school. It's in Marburg, which is another beautiful city. It's also home to the first Gothic Church constructed in Germany. It was positively gorgeous! We went on our own tour. I saw Hindenburg's grave, a various amount of altar pieces. It was straight out of Art History. I love it.

I start school tomorrow. I'm nervous because I believe I do not know enough German to survive. Luckily I just have to follow a student around. Oh boy. Wish me luck

My Body is a Cage

Today I decided I would try the German version of Sweet Tea. I think the only reason I was disappointed was because I come from the South. Actually, I think anyone would be disappointed by German 'Sweet Tea.' Zeb, you don't need to capitalize Sweet Tea. On the contrary, I must capitalize it much in the same way you would for God. I hold Sweet Tea on a higher level. Plus, this Sweet Tea had 30% less sugar! 30% percent LESS sugar. What the hell is that? I have never heard those words and Sweet Tea in the same sentence! Let me try to do some quick calculations. In McAlister's (this is where Sweet Tea calls home), we mix roughly 4-8 cups of sugar (maybe more, I have bad memory) into 5 gallons. You then put that into a 32 oz. cup. You get roughly 1/4-1 cup of sugar in each cup. That's enough sugar to give you and your family a healthy dose of Diabetes, depending how many you buy. Or how many times you get it refilled. What I'm trying to say is: Stop calling your nasty tea, sweet. It's not, get over it.

On another note, I've developed shaky hands. I'm sure it's not a serious problem, it just gets annoying.

And Sometimes When You're On, You're Really Fucking On

I haven't found a need to keep a personal journal. At the Schloss, my mind was riddled with trivial problems. I would write only to keep myself in check. Here in Wabern, there is no need for that. Not yet at least. I can finally say that I have cleared my mind. I have let the weight of the world fall down to my feet. I have quite the anticipation though for that one moment. That one moment that will find the single crack in my armor and completely shatter me. Come and get me.

I'm not sure what to write about. Today was another slow day. I registered for school and got places in the 11th grade. I don't mind, it'll be easier school work. Hard only because it's all in German and I still can't quite grasp German. At least the kids are of legal drinking age, so we have something in common.

And Now for Something Completely Different

I.

I don't miss the familiar ground beneath my feet
But the way your tongue moves in between my teeth
If only the world could see the blue that is in your eyes
And how it rivals the blue that is in the skies
If they could taste your lips
Put their hands on your hips
Then they would see why I can never let go of this

II.

There is no way this car can be out of gas
But I'm running low too, pass me my flask
We need to fix the engine of our little car
We aren't there yet, but we got pretty far
You check the trunk, I'll check the backseat
Working the gas isn't the only thing you can do with your feet

III.

Gravity asks, "Why bother moving your feet when I'll just pull them back down?"
You reply, "Walking happens to be the best way to get around.
You can bring me down, but you can't make me drag my feet.
You can bring me down, but I can still float in the sea."

What's that Riding on Your Everything?

Well I suppose now might be a good time to perhaps put in some details. Not of the last 3 weeks at the language camp however.

I arrived Saturday at the Bahnhof in Wabern. I was a tad nervous as I was to be meeting my host family for the first time. We had sent emails back and forth, but that's not quite the same. They are amazing! I took a small tour of the house (which is abosolutely stunning) and eventually took a nap. For dinner we had a cookout with Wurst and other such delicassies. The local priest came by. His name was Jochan but he insisted that I call him 'Joe' because no one else would. We had a beer or two and spoke long into the night about Woodstock and other American myths that they needed to clear up.

Wabern is a very small place, I've already mentioned that. I know that I love cities. Cities are beautiful to me. But Wabern is something else. It's a perfect fit for me. It's small enough that I cannot possibly get lost, but large enough that there is kind of always something to do. Large enough to have a reliable bus and train system. And at night, it's beyond imagination. The northern hemisphere has never looked so beautiful. You look up and all you see are stars. It's how the world is supposed to look.

Sunday I took a trip to the community pool and met some friends of my host brother, Leon. Some of his friends are Russian and only speak German and Russian, no English. I've also come to this conclusion: Russians always look like they are up to something. They are a sneaky and crafty bunch.

I didn't do much the other days, just kind of chilled around the house, went on a bicycle ride amongst other things. David Jernigan, an American friend from CBYX, came over to visit. I gave him a tour around Wabern which lasted, oh I don't know, around 5 minutes. We were just glad to have some contact with people that understand us. Last night I went with Nicolai, my other host brother, to hang out with some of his friends. Yes, we ended up drinking a bit. Maybe a bit too much? Too far? Not far enough. His friends are also pretty interesting people. I met one girl who went on an exchange program to America so she was acting as my translator. She would practice her English with me, and I would practice my German with her. It's a good trade-off. We caused a small ruckus later in the night around Wabern just for shits and giggles, and then I made the mistake of thinking Facebook would be a fun thing to use when drunk. Scheiss passiert.

It's another nice day outside, I may or may not be going to the lake today. I have to work in the garden, but it shouldn't take me too long.

I am

too drunk fot his shit.

Ok, that's the end of my slave song

I arrived in Frankfurt at around 7:30. At least, that's what I believe the time was. I hate German airports. "Why, Zeb, do you hate German airports? Was it because of customs?" Wait, did you say customs? I'm sorry, but did you mean that little desk with no one there that we just walked straight through? Oh, you did? Well, no that wasn't it. "Was is the other people with you perhaps?" You mean the only other people besides me that spoke and understood the language I love? No. To be honest, I didn't like the bathrooms. Yeah, I said it. That and everyone really doesn't give a rip about whether or not you have a buggy filled with so much luggage it takes all of the Nordic gods to move it. That's most airports, but Germans definitely do not care about other people as long as they don't know them.

Our bus was also an hour late. It wasn't because Frankfurt traffic is terrible (it was Sunday.) It wasn't because the bus completely forgot us. Oh wait, yes it was. Somehow it slipped the bus companies agenda that 40+ people from America would be arriving in Frankfurt and needing a ride to a nearby village that is about an hour away. Silly us for thinking Germans were a punctual people. I guess stereotypes are just stereotypes.

Ok, enough being completely sarcastic and cynical. Germany's initial impression most definitely surpassed all expectations. The rolling hills and greenery were astounding. The best part is when we arrived at Johannisberg (southern Hessen, in der nahe von Wiesbaden.) There I was to learn the basic rules of German culture, language, and etiquite. By this time everyone was warming up to each other, or at the very least trying to. Sunday was spent getting over jet-lag. It might not have been, but I was so jet-lagged that Sunday is pretty much a blank space in my mind, kinda like my first week in Australia.

Going to school at Schloss-Hansenberg isn't quite the same as going to any ol` German school. For instance my teacher, Maik, is pretty much an expert at Capoiera (a Brazillian style of martial arts) and is pretty much laid back. We were allowed to duzt him (in Germany when speaking with a teacher you use the formal 'Sie.' Maik allowed us to call him by his first name, and refer to him as 'du.') The class was challenging but never too hard. The class was very fun and there was a beautiful view of the vineyards outside the windows.

Besides teachers, we had teamers there as well. Teamers are kinda like God. They want to be your friend, but don't fuck up, or they'll get mad and punish you. Well, it wasn't all that bad. They were a pretty cool group. They would have to be.

The group that I went with is a motley crew in and of itself. We represented the American southeast. Or, to perhaps scare you even further, we, being the Southeast, were representing America. Just wrap your head around that for a bit, play with the idea, maybe take it on a date. The southeast. Du meine gute.

Weekends we were allowed to drink. You tell forty American teens that they are allowed to drink and you would expect all hell to break loose. Well, it didn't. I mean, some of us were perhaps more tipsy than others, but overall it never once was a bad experience. Well, that's a lie, but I won't get into that now. If Germany has anything other than fancy cars, it's good beer. And when you give them your empty glass (which you shelled out 4,50€ and your first born for) you get a 1€ refund. It was nice when friends would forget that they even bought a glass and just leave it somewhere. You could just take the glass and get a Euro for it. That's nearly $1.40. That's a cheeseburger and a tip. That's good money.

Somewhere along these lines I'll delve into more detail. Right now I am only dabbling in the art of Blogging, so I'm trying my best to just give an overview. My next update will hopefully have more zest and flavor.

July 28th

I’m writing this blog entry while sitting in the Dulles international airport at terminal C2. The plane doesn’t board until 4:30 and it’s 3:24 now. I’ve gotten to know the group fairly well by now, but I’ll know them even better after I spend 3 weeks at a language camp. The language camp is in Hansenberg in south Germany. Come August 15^th, I’ll be moving away from my American comrades and into my host family where I will learn to assimilate and blend in with the German culture. I will ate the same food they eat, see the same sights they see, breath the same air and try to the best of my abilities to speak their language. Honestly, I am not nervous yet. I’ll be nervous once I get onto the plane and realize that my fate is now beyond sealed. Once the doors to the airplane close, I expect my heart to jump into my throat and strangle me to death. If my heart doesn’t follow through, I’m sure my stomach will be up to it.

What exactly am I leaving behind? I ask myself this question often to reassure myself that, yes, I will miss something. State Street. John, Jina and Katie’s house (as well as their new addition, Chris.) The crazy shenanigans I find myself in every time I hang out with Lyla (Greenville and breaking into the Zoo come into mind.) Kicking Johnny’s ass in Madden. Spending endless amounts of hours with Savannah. This and more is what I will miss. I’m not going to be able to replace this in Germany, but I’m sure I will find a suitable replacement until my return.

The airport has gotten more crowded now, and I feel rude to my fellow travel mates. Wish me the best of luck; I’ll need it.

The Good Times Are Killing Me

My computer doesn't have internet access right now, so I am using one of the computers at the language camp. The camp is actually located at Schloss Hansenberg (For a translation, that means a castle. Yes, I'm at a castle.) Updating this blog is going to be ridiculously hard for awhile since I am not used to German computers plus I feel more comfortable using my own. I will fill everyone in once I get into my host family around August 15th. Till then, the best of luck

More Adventurous

The creation of this blog signifies the beginning of my year away from the place I have often referred to as 'home.' The first leg of my journey sees me in Washington D.C. I've been in DC now for almost a full week, and needless to say I love it. The smells, the sounds, and the way no one really cares about anything happening around them; I love it. If there is one city on the east coast that I can find myself in in the future, DC would be that city. I've done all the touristy things already. I've seen the monuments and the museums. I've taken a ride on the metro and walked the lengths of the streets. I am still by no means tired of this city. Although when the program starts (here is where you can find more information on the program) I will have to tour all of the major tourist attractions again, I don't think I have seen them enough anyway. I love the glorious capital of our beautiful nation. But enough of what I've been doing and on to what this blog will really be about:

I am about to embark on a gap year program that is sending me to Germany for a year. I'm both excited and nervous but anxious is perhaps too strong a word. I will be living in a village called Wabern in the state of Hessen. (If you ever thought Columbia was small get a load of this: Wabern has roughly 8,000 residents. That's if you were to take all the students in Richland School District 2 and multiply that number by 2.) My host family seems like a loving and close-knit family. I come from something close to the opposite of that. It's not that we aren't loving (keep in mind it's a very loose definition of the word 'loving') but everyone in my family is very independent. This isn't something I wish were different. Independence is obviously something that can easily come in handy when travelling to a foreign country. I've only studied the language for 2 years (mind you at Richland Northeast, 2 years in a language and you pretty much know how to count) but I feel ready enough. I will be attending a language camp for the first two weeks to better solidify my basic knowledge of the language as well as learn enough to not die while I am over there. My 2 years in the language has not only made me love the language, but yearn to see the land as well. I hope everything goes well.