Das Perfekte Dinner

Back home in Ann Arbor I did not own a television set but rather we --myself and two roommates-- had a monitor that they would hook up to an Xbox and play while I watched. The benefits of living with guys never end. The most television I watched so far in my college (entire) life would have probably been during the month long, mind you free, trial we did of Netflix. Trying to squeeze out the most of it, during the final weekend we watched an entire cartoon tv series.
I know, I am possibly the lamest college student alive, but hey, at least I didn't eat Ramen Noodles every day, right?
My host family in Germany does, in fact, have a television (It's beautiful and big and shiny and new!) and we watch it regularly...As in every night... As in I am semi-addicted to a German reality show that consists of people cooking for one another and hence my title.

It's not particularly interesting, nor intelligent, mostly I am just proud to understand it all because once we switch it up to the news I've got my sixth grade comprehension level to fall back on. Something of note here is that every week a TVguide comes in the mail (Those still exist?) and one might wonder, "Why does Germany keep sending out guides?"
Well, dear readers, it is probably because Germany has the most messed up confusing scheduling ever. Ever. Their shows do not have starting times on the hour, or the half hour, or any sort of normal hour-ish time. Sometimes movies will begin at seven after the hour and because the Germans are so punctual it is exactly four hundred and twenty seconds after the hour.
Then they just split into these wonky twenty minute commercial segments which are completely useless for the kid who has learned to sprint to the bathroom, use said room, brush teeth, and get into pajamas within the four-and-a-half-minute break between our tv shows because I'll be damned if I'm missing any precious second of Red and Green Show!
Not only are these commercial breaks way too long for any normal human being, since they are generally American tv shows adapted to German, the commercials will break mid-way through sentences.
Because we in the states have tv figured out! Five minute commercials at carefully spaced plot points to keep viewers coming back, not DIRECTLY in the middle of the show because there is only one commercial break total.

Trust me, watching Horatio Caine take of his sunglasses to a witty remark revolving around murder is not nearly as dramatic if it doesn't immediately cut to commercial.  And that *takes off sunglasses* is all I have for today. YEEAAH!
(Edit: Sorry, if you didn't get that last part, just watch an episode of CSI:Miami.)

I'd Like to Thank the Academy

After working the entire day on a post that ended in a prompt deletion, (The combination of bellyaching and angst would have put any eyeliner-wearing teenage boy to shame.)
I instead took some advice from a very wise and colorful lady I once knew and put together a list of things I am thankful for instead. Because honestly, we should all take a look around us and see the great things we have.
Here goes:
I am thankful for...

1) ...getting a wonderful guest family here in Germany. I could not have found a better fit myself and I can contently say I will miss them when I have to go this week. This whole opportunity is officially on the list too.
2) ...my health and the health of my family and friends. I have yet to break a leg here and I like to take the 'no news is good news' approach for the rest of my family.
3) ...my immediate financial security. Yaaaaay, tax returns!

So since the three big obvious ones are out of the way.

4) ...my Christmas boots, they are coming in handy.
5) ...a haircut I think that finally suits me.
6) ...the fact I have not read the Twilight books.
7) ...my ability to go to a spa whenever I want.
8) ...Eis (ice cream) because it can brighten any day.
9) ...finally finishing my first real book in German that wasn't for class. (Theo Traktor doesn't count.) It was Löcher (Holes). Check me out! I'm nearing a sixth grade reading level!
10) ...being able to continue this list if I wanted.

Danke allen.

Imported

 If I learned anything in Anthro 101 it would be that during field experience people are going to treat you like an attraction until your peculiarity wears off. Well, I also learned that Barbies are modeled after an erotic doll, but right now that's not important.

The routine seems to go like this: You come into another culture and by your very definition you are foreign and out of place. I felt just like a piece of furniture that was ruining the feng shui of a room. Only instead of being a misplaced lamp, I was a misplaced lamp that would bump into everything and not being able to explain itself. Soon your language skills start warming up and people tell you all the great things they think about you and your country. Great school system, so many choices, people are so proud to be Americans, and by the way, there's a McDonald's in the next town if you need it. After comes a period of getting to know one another, and then, just like any good relationship the rose-colored glasses come off and the dukes come up.

Before I had come to Germany, there was a very large school shooting in which a student took the lives of nine children, three teachers, three civilians, and finally himself. Within my first month here, there was a trial for his father who did not have his weapons--which in Germany are very expensive and strictly regulated--stored properly. One morning, reading the paper I noticed that a quote in the article said something along the lines of, 'These sorts of tragedies are supposed to happen in the United States, not Germany' and that these ideas 'have been imported from the states.' I had never been so ashamed of where I came from.

I know these are blanket allegations and stereotypes. Intelligent people dismiss them anyways, but still. The stereotype that all Americans are "fat and lazy" (fette und faule Menschen)-direct quote from my host brother- I can live with. They live with the stereotype that they all drink constantly and have garden gnomes. Julian is able to correct the kids in his class when they say things like that, but talking to him at dinner last week he asked me if it's true that we sell guns in our supermarkets. (In which case, Wal-Mart does, but I am well beyond being surprised by that store anymore.) 
So to all you exchange students, travelers, or anyone interacting with another culture, let's improve our image a bit, okay? Americans are proud of their culture, or so I've been told, so make something to be proud about. Because, honestly, with stuff like this floating around, we have some work to do.

PS Don't forget about Earth Hour! Today, take one hour and unplug. No computer, lights, television, or electricity use. So just go flip the breaker off and take a walk or play a board game with the rest of the world as we save some energy. (Says the girl typing on her lap top. I know, I know. I'm going right now..)
Bis bald.

Hats off to the Hausfrauen!

Every German woman is my hero. When a women here says they are a housewife (hausfrau) it constitutes everything similar in the states. They cook, clean, take care of kids, all the fun things women are entitled to do. These ladies don't rest of their laurels though (I learned a laurel is a wreath! Probably not the most comfortable place to relax anyways.) they go all out. Elke cleans the whole house (this includes the oven) every other day and I would eat off of the living room floor if all the plates were dirty. Like they ever would be.
And Nick's Mom, Sonja, keeps an unbelievably awesome garden while taking care of a political party and a husband that gets called into work at three am on a regular basis. (Plus I really like that she puts fruit into my cereal in the morning before I come down to breakfast, Thanks Sonja.)
But that is not the important part, because honestly, it's practically inhuman. These ladies are exceptional. The best part (for me, the lazy host-student) is the daily cake allowance (It's really more of fruit with cream, but whatever, Germans don't get cake. I forgive them.) and the meals.
I love the food here. My love handles agree.
They make so many delicious things. "Black forest cake, with frosting like snow on the eaves of a Bavarian castle!" -H.J. Simpson (Edit: The black forest is not in Bavaria. There's only lederhosen, coo coo clocks, and FC Bayern fans there.) It's uncanny how the food here is. I can't explain it. You can take a bite of something and be completely brought to another world. So far, I have eaten spätzle that tasted like camping, marmalade that brought me back to pre-school and fingerpainting, and yesterday I ate cake that was a Fall day reincarnate. It's unexplainable, you just take a bite and immediately you're thinking of apple orchards and carving pumpkins. I'm not the only one, (or in the very least I'm not the only insane one) because other American students have taken bites of my examples and noted the exact same thing. It's truly indescribable. How do they do it?
I'll just chalk it up to the fact that Elke refuses to wear sweatpants while she's at home. (Überhaupt keine Joggenhose!) What a classy lady.

I would like to note, before I wrap this up, that my mom tops all of these women for three reasons:
1) My mom does all the house work while simultaneously owning a farm and raising eight kids that would have given Genghis Khan a hard time.. Elke is a proud housewife and only housewife. She told me herself she tried having a job, but decided on staying home instead.
2) I could live without any food item made here. I cannot live without my mom's cinnamon rolls or bread. If you haven't tasted them, be grateful, it's like having a crack addiction.
3) C'mon you guys. She's my mom.

Can you German?

I am slowly integrating into the blogging world, and I read one that I specifically enjoy about a girl who spontaneously moved to Germany with no language knowledge to become a baker. As I read it, I really do start to wonder how her German is coming along. Her entire blog is in English and she speaks about her classes very little. (Remind you of anyone?) My question to you guys is, does anyone wonder how I'm coming along?
 Probably not, but if you didn't want my opinion, it's a safe bet to say you wouldn't be here reading. ... I hope.

Background: Rebecca knew no deutsch beyond aufwiedersehen before college. In all honesty, she didn't even know what country aufwiedersehen came from.
In college, by some random circumstances she had half a mind to enroll in a German language course. She took three semesters before coming to Germany and declaring a German major. At this point, she could say what she liked to do in her free time (Ich koche gern!) and describe her family. Which granted, by how confusing her family is to explain in English, doing it in German is a bit of a feat.  (Ich habe viele Geschwister!)

As of right now, she can say what she needs to and is able to hold semi-intelligent conversations in German so long as the other end speaks clearly enough. Her biggest accomplishment thus far was having an AHA!-moment (Shout out to all you Tuesday people.) during class where she realized that while doodling, she could understand her teacher when only half-listening. It was thrilling.

What I really wanted to get at here, was that my German has improved, but it is not perfect. Absolutely nowhere near perfect. Although some other students are having some problems with that mind-set...
The biggest example is a girl storming out of class (twice) because she didn't feel she needed to review. However, my favorite was today.
I was on the bus with the other American students, just sitting in my seat minding my own business until all the younger school kids got on. They are always rambunctious and loud, but you can always hear English over it. That voice is always a girl from my class. Let's call her Blondie. So Blondie thinks she is very good at speaking German,...
this is how the conversation went between her and a nine-year-old German.

Blondie: (loudly speaking English)...
German Kid: He, kannst du deutsch?
Blondie: Doch! Kannst DU englisch???
                                                                In English now...

B: (loud English)
GK: Hey, do you speak German?
B: Nu-huh!  Do YOU speak English?

The hilarity is that she improperly uses German while declaring that she can speak German but ultimately actually saying (and implying through her misuse of the language) that she really doesn't understand German. A true face-palm moment. I just shook my head because this is how that conversation should have went:

B: (loud English)
GK: Hey, do you NOT know any German?
B: Nu-huh. Of course I know German. Do YOU speak English? 

Lesson learned from Abe Lincoln: It's better to say nothing and be thought a fool, than open your mouth and remove all doubt.
Bis bald.

Consciousness: that annoying time between naps

 Two months in Germany and still jet-lagged? You betcha!
It's official. I can no longer blame jet-lag for my sleepiness. Well, now what am I going to use for an excuse?
Sleeping is just my hobby, I suppose, because I can sleep any time, any where (except cars and planes), and I never get tired of it. Pun totally intended.
Is there a disease where you sleep too much? I refuse to believe it. Although I'm starting to question myself because my host family finds it very strange any time I make mention of napping.

Normally when I go to Stuttgart I get a good two-three hour nap every day since Niklas is working toward his Abiture, the holy grail of school tests in Germany (think MCAT for med school and you're on the right track) and I have a lot of free time to myself...
Spent napping...
This weekend, however, instead of lounging around like the laggard I am, I went gardening with his mom and then with her on another Trimm Dich! trail.
Hence the post I am already wrapping up. I had planned to write a wonderfully witty blog about my first political protest or perhaps about how intensely cute wombats are, but instead I am turning in early to get a full nights sleep.
I am the worst college student ever.
Schlaf gut.

Working Out(side)

I'm going to tell you something that you probably already knew: Despite their massive beer and bread consumption, Germany is a pretty healthy country. There are always exceptions to the rules, but let's be real...  They only have one main kind of potato chip. (Paprika, for those of you curious enough.) In restaurants, the menu is riddled with super-script numbers that forewarn of additives, preservatives, and all of the other delicious things we Americans love to munch on. And let's face it. Germany created a new way to walk, adding sticks that make it an upper-body workout as well. Go ahead and take a break to google "Nordic walking" It's über-silly looking, but all the Germans swear by it.

So, I haven't given in to the Nordic walking yet, but instead I found my way to work out in Germany and keep off the extra pounds. Trimm dich parcours. (roughly English: Trim yourself down, walking.) They are about an hour-long trail in the woods with stations every little bit. Every station is different and there is a sign to tell you what to do and how many times. For example, there are logs to lift and do squats with (... or y'know, not.) Monkey bars to go across, balance beams to try out, and stretches. So imagine mixing an army boot camp, without the drill sergeant, any idea of the black forest you have, and summer camp. Yeah, that's the best way I can think of to describe it. Irregardless, I'll be back to try it again and I'm only a little upset I only found this two weeks before I move to another city.

Naja. Bis bald, Leute!

Cut the Cord

After the franstresstic day getting ready for German college, I went on the group trip to Freiburg. It was pretty neat sightseeing-wise but the best part of all was the weather. Sure, we got to see the beautiful cathedral, but even better was that it was sixty degrees and sunny. And Häagen Dazs! Does it get any better?
Maybe if someone could tell me how to pronounce Häagen Dazs...

It was a long day though and we didn't get back until eight thirty at night. Yesterday night was also Elke's birthday party so the house was full of people I didn't know and was obligated to sit among until it was acceptable to go to bed. Which turns out to be eleven.

It's imaginable that I was tired, it was a long couple of days filled with constantly being on my feet and doing too much thinking, but if I was sleepy, then my host brother should have been in a coma. Allow me to explain:
Julian is seventeen and very quiet. He's spoken to me on as many occasions as I can count on one hand. The only time I've heard him speak above a mumble is when he's playing on the computer in the basement room next to mine. Which is eighty-two percent of his life.
On Thursday he broke the mold and had some friends over, ... to play video games in the basement room next to mine. They came over around two pm on Thursday and didn't leave until eight pm the next night. For those of you who don't want to pull out a calculator, that's nearly thirty hours of video games.
But they slept, right?
Absolutely not. Elke told me they do this every once in a while, and while she hates it, Julian is an adult here and makes his own life decisions. And he decided to stay up the whole night. I don't know about you guys, but I can't go six hours without some sort of nap.
But they at least ate, right?!
Nope. Elke said she offered them food but they refused to stop and come up. So I guess the whole, "If you don't want to eat it, you must not be hungry enough" ploy doesn't work in Germany. How in the world do they get these kids to eat their vegetables?
Upside is that they didn't skip school at least. This week is Germany's "spring break" which doesn't stop me from having class.
So, after twenty-eight hours of straight video game playing, with no food or sleep Julian also stayed up until eleven at the party. However, when I went to bed he used me as a buffer to excuse himself too. To which he went directly into the computer room in the basement. Talk about dedication.

The Race is On

My time in the Universität Tübingen is coming up fast. Yesterday we became temporary citizens of Germany in Tübingen, registered with the city, the school, the scholarship department, paid for our apartments, and opened a German bank account that we have to fill with six hundred Euros by the thirtieth. No easy task, let me tell you, in a country where you're not allowed to work legally.
I'm usually a pretty relaxed person, but in situations where I have no control over I turn into a freak-out fest. Yesterday I was on the fritz. With little help from native speakers we basically signed our lives away three times in German to contracts we couldn't understand. Let alone the fact I was the only one from my group to not see my apartment or get the key to the place because I live apart from all the other students. It's cool though. I mean, who wants to see where they live after they paid for it, am I right?
Do I still sound stressed? I'll work in a couple of deep breaths.
Whew. Sorry for the whiny blog. I'm sure I'll look back on this and remember it fondly, (At least I got out of a day of school for it...) but right now I'm just frustrated. Appreciation to the people who move to the states and go through our paperwork mountains.
Bis bald.

All's Fair in Fasching

Christmas Eve at my house always brought a visit from Santa Claus. It's a mystery, I know, chalk it up to Christmas magic. One year as we were waiting for him to show up and bring the presents already, the big man surprised all of us kids on the couch by banging on the bay window. One of my brothers started off sitting on the arm of the couch and ended in the lap of another screaming like a howler monkey. Moral of the story: Santa is terrifying to small children.
Now imagine swapping out Jolly Ol' Saint Nick with this:

 My question is how are very small German children not sobbing in terror for the whole six week period of the Fasching season? I attended my first Fasching parade Monday in Horb and it was enough for me. I can't imagine how these people put up with it for so long. I learned that there is at least one parade in a week and all the same things happen every time:
The parade begins and there's a chant the crowd says. It sounds something like Naho, Haribo! I have no idea what I was shouting, but I learned that if a witch comes up to you and you aren't shouting it's like wearing a fanny-pack target on your back. Groups of people dress up like as many horrifying things as they can think of,

Like cheese

run through the streets with... Christmas tree wrappers. Yep. With netting and everything...

Yeah, I saw a kid get thrown in there. He came out like a prepackaged turkey.

buckets of confetti to dump people into and then shove it down their clothes....

The girl this happened to was putting paper slips out of her coat a week later.

 Stocks...

Think 1700's and you've got it.

Or, as weapon of choice these witches chose pig intestines blown into balloons with which they would hit people with. Repeatedly. Until the "balloon" popped.

That's sanitary, right?

Mostly they just run up to unsuspecting girls and...

steal their shoes and throw them over powerlines

put them in cages,

Then spin it.

 pin them to the ground...

and then sandwich them and roll away with them down the street..

There is a girl in there. I swear. The loch ness monster covered her up.

 I pretty much feel like I saw it all. Thankfully only one girl from Michigan got it bad. The worst that happened to her (other than confetti down the shirt, hair musings and being picked up) was being drug into the street and thrown over someones shoulder while being spanked with a rubber paddle. This all happened while I cowered in fear. She didn't mind it though, right Johanna?

Fill in the blank.

 And I was terrified. Even the children were braver than me. There was a two year old next to me in the street waiting politely for some not insane witch to come by and give him some candy (he got an egg.) and one of the witches came up close to him probably trying to steal him he look at her/him and bellowed, "Nein!" and punched the witch in the leg.

Take out his kneecaps!

 That's how the two-year-old deals with a mean witch. I'll try that tactic next time.
Or not.

They gave him back. ...I think.

The biggest conundrum is why this is so acceptable? No one fights it or even acts like they dislike it. They all go along with it and even pay money for it! (It costs two euro to see the parade.)

I guess I shouldn't complain because I made out pretty good. I learned that the witches will steal your hat (I wasn't surprised after that.) So I used it for a bucket and caught candy with it.

 I think I made out pretty good.
Sorry about the long post, but I thought it was interesting to share and more honestly, I wanted you guys to believe me when I say that the Germans here are a little crazy.

Filler Post!

I am working on a pretty intensive post from my Monday day, but unfortunately pieces of it are not ready for publish yet. (Yes, I am anal enough as to refuse posting something and then edit it later. Also I'm pretty sure I can't consider by blog a publication. Anyways...) so you guys are all getting a little filler post since I've been semi-absent.

This weekend was kind of slow. For notable happenings I went to a neighboring town to celebrate the twentieth birthday of a friend where I ate way too much pizza and Toffifee and made good friends with a Swiss girl. Other than that, I wallowed in a pit of tissues and cough drop wrappers and relished the feeling of being sick. Glad that's about over.
Like I've already said, today was really interesting. We got a new teacher who wears skin tight leather pants and makes us do voice exercises (Try shouting Napoleon for a good two minutes accenting the üoooooo. Get's fun after the first awkward ten seconds.) He's like that crazy theater teacher I never had but always wanted! The really great part though I can't tell you because it's not finished yet... I'll just leave you with a nibble:

Excited? I was.

Good morning, Sunshine!

Oh Germany, you are slipping. Even your windows and Walker, Texas Ranger might not keep you afloat through your lack of sleep and insurance claims. When you wake me up at 5:02am with a throat-clenching cold and then again at 6:09am by people playing cow bells, whistles, and vuvuzelas (How I despise the vuvuzelas.) with enough vigor to make a soccer hooligan proud, and then send those same people out again at 6:27am to repeat their little parade. I am sitting in my room just clinging to the ounce of hope I have that you will let me return to sleep for just a few more minutes before I have to crack my eyelids and start worrying about how I am going to afford your ridiculously awesomely expensive insurance that I can only turn down if I never plan on needing it ever again. In my life. Ever.
I have been awake for twenty minutes, dear Germany, and these are the first thoughts you have given me to move forward with in my day.
I kind of want to kick you in the shin.
PS Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Mom. I tried calling yesterday to say I love you and eat some cake for me.