Keeping up

I've been doing a lot of things lately; things that are very fun, but also very normal for college kids to do and consequently probably not of much interest. This past weekend I was out late three nights in a row (although when I left a club at 2 on Saturday, the German girl we were with protested, claiming that it was too early and the clubs aren't even that fun until 3), and I think that I'm just not meant to stay up so late so often. Don't get me wrong, I had fun, but the club scene is just not my scene, and now that I know what they are like, I probably will not frequent them.

Sundays here are totally me, though. On Sundays here all the stores, and most other things, are closed. This means that until classes start, I can't even be productive if I want to. It's a day meant for rest. My Sunday included no homework or errands, but instead consisted of 1) a walk in the park 2) the doing of the three dishes that I got dirty and 3) splitting a small pizza with a friend at a cafe. That's all I did. It was great.

That's all I have to say. Hopefully I will do something interesting soon, and then people wanting to keep up with what I'm doing will have something interesting to read.

Good night.

The thing about Germans is . . .

. . . they all speak German. This isn't too big of a problem usually, since the majority of the population prefers to mind their own business and not start conversations. However, the people my age seem to be pretty friendly, and often instigate small-talk if I'm in the elevator with them or walking in the same direction they are. I do want German friends, really, but I'm not very confident about my language skills, and it can be embarrassing when I constantly ask people to repeat what they've said or to talk slower. It's okay though. I just can't wait until I don't have to do that.

The only way to learn is to practice. I just wish it wasn't so hard! I hope that these people that I have painfully slow and simple conversations with actually do like me and aren't annoyed. If I could go out with them, my German will improve immensely.

A Lesson in Manners

In Germany, nobody smiles. Being gregarious is not a cultural value. People just walk around with hard looks on their faces and ignore everyone. Smiles are not trusted and laughing is unacceptable.

Or at least that's how it seems to us Americans. I smile a lot and have a voice that carries, and consequently have been getting dirty looks on the U-Bahn since I've been here. No one I hang out quite understood why, and decided that Germans must just not like happiness.

Our perspective changed tonight. Three of us went out in the city and were taking the U-Bahn back when a whole bunch of loud, drunk Americans boarded. They were falling all over the place, yelling to each other across the train, and laughing at jokes that just weren't funny. My first instinct was to say something to my friend that these people couldn't understand, so I leaned forward in my seat and quietly said something in German. It was then I noticed the completely cold face on my normally friendly companion. As I looked to my side, I noticed our other group member was frowning, too.

Now I understand.

Oktoberfest!

If you know me, then you know how excited I was for the start of Oktoberfest. Not for the drinking, necessarily (who wants to pay 9 euro for a beer?) but for the opening ceremony, during which the mayor of Munich taps the first keg of beer. I mean, could you imagine any American politician kicking off any sort of giant alcoholic party? I was so ready to get there early (gotta get there around 9 in the morning to see the opening at noon).

But last night I felt sick, went to bed at 8, and slept until 11. I went to my friend's room and watched the ceremony on TV.

It was actually better, I think. The beer hall looked so crowded and from everything I've heard, it takes the waitresses an hour or more to get everyone who orders beers at opening what they want.

So we went to scope it out a bit later. Basically, Oktoberfest is like your typical county fair, except huge and filled with beer halls. But it has all the county fair offerings: rides, funhouses, overpriced food, etc. And the beer hall/tent openings were pretty inconspicuous. If it weren't for the occasional person moaning on the ground, I wouldn't have known the difference.

Oh, except that about half the fair-goers were wearing Lederhosen and Dirndls. I had no idea they were so popular-- I gotta get me an outfit like that.

German Hospitality

Last night, I and the people I was with got kicked out of a restaurant for being drunk.
We arrived, sat down outside at the farthest table from the door (all the others were taken), and waited for our server. And waited. Finally, one of us went in and alerted the staff to the fact that we were there, and about 10 minutes later, she came and took our orders-- one beer each. Well, we sat there awhile and drank our one beer a person and were laughing and enjoying ourselves, and after about 15 minutes, our glasses were empty. But we were talking and laughing and having a good time, so we stayed, waiting for our waitress to come back. We must've waited about a half hour when the guy who had previously gone in and alerted the staff decided to go in again and let them know that we were ready for another round. He came back, said it was frustrating that when you spoke german to people here they responded in english, and we waited some more. After 10 minutes, one of the people I was with joked that we should just get up and walk away, but of course we didn't. We should have. About 10 minutes later, the waitress came to our table with a big frown on her face and told us that the chef wanted us to leave because we were drunk. We did, after paying.

It had been our first beer of the evening, and, needless to say, we were not drunk.

An extreme, but typical example of the german waitress. The wait staff in germany does not work for tips, but for a salary, and so does not try to impress you. At the next restaurant/beerhouse we arrived at, the guy across the table from me got bumped in the head repeatably by trays, filled with beer, carried by uncaring waitresses.

I'm going to uphold the status quo and not tip german waitresses unless they deserve it.

At least it's a good story

Morning, September 17th 2009

After that my day went pretty well. I understood everything at the meeting, got ahold of a towel, and bought some toiletries. The only confusing thing that happened is that it took me a long time to find face wash-- there were things called face peels, bottles of stuff called face water, and a few things that looked like face wash but were labeled face mask. In fact, I had my choice between two items that were called face wash gels. I guess I could've chanced it with the face waters, but didn't want to. It's not as if I had a back-up.

I went out to dinner because I won't have pots and eating utensils until tonight, and got drunk off one beer. Be proud of me, adults-- this is a clear sign that I have not yet consumed enough alcohol to build a tolerance. Or that I'm a fairly slender girl, German beer is stronger and served in bigger glasses, and I had it on an empty stomach.

My internet still doesn't work. I wish I could check today's weather. Oh well.

So here's the deal...

Note: I didn't have internet for a few days, so I will be posting back posts.

Wednesday, September 16th 2009

I just arrived in Munich this morning, at about 7:30 local time. Now it is 10:30. In an hour I'm meeting a few other students to go to our first meeting. In order to get there, we have to take the U-Bahn, and I don't want to go alone.

Right now, I am settling into my unfurnished apartment. Luckily, the nice previous tenant left me some toilet paper, because otherwise I'd be screwed. I know what you're thinking: "Oh, not totally; you'd just have to take a shower after." But, you see, that would be hopeless. I didn't bring any toiletries with me except for my toothpaste, toothbrush, and deodorant, nor did I bring any towels of any kind. Oh wait, I also brought two bottles of nail polish and soap to wash my Diva Cup, for those of you who know what that is.

Speaking of the nail polish, it leaked in my suitcase. It was in a plastic bag, though, so it didn't get on anything except for the other bottle of nail polish. And all over my hands when I thoughtlessly picked it up.

I didn't want to show up to the first meeting as the chick with red nail polish all over her hands, so I started to look for soap. Maybe, I thought, the previous tenant had left some. I didn't find any soap, but under the sink there was toilet bowl cleaner and vinegar. I used vinegar. The toilet bowl cleaner said (or at least I think it did-- everything's in German) that it wasn't suitable for marble, so I figured it wasn't suitable for my hands.

So I'm typing here with hands that smell like vinegar and feet that smell like stinky feet because they were trapped in socks and shoes for the last 20 hours. I didn't get all of the nail polish off my hands, but I got most of it. I've been trying with no success to connect to the internet, so hopefully I will get more information about this at the meeting. If you are reading this, you know I succeeded. 

You may not get many more posts, though-- the plugs are different here, so I have no way to charge my computer. Right now I have the screen on the dimmest setting in an effort to conserve energy.

I'm going to go make a shopping list. At least I already have deodorant. Wish me luck!

Only a few more days. . .

As I was driving today, the dreaded little light came on that means that the car is almost out of gas. I couldn't conserve gas very easily because I was driving up a hill. I made it to my destination safe and sound, but not without a little anxiety.

I also left the lights on when I got there.

I was able to start the car and get home without running out of gas, but I couldn't help thinking to myself: "Oh, how wonderful it will be in four days when I'm in Germany and there's adequate public transportation."

Speaking of public transportation, I got hit on by a BART operator recently. On Monday I was walking to BART to go meet a friend, and while I was in the parking lot, I heard a train leaving. I looked up, and the driver leaned out the window and started yelling, "Hey Baby!". What do BART operators do, anyway? Obviously not drive.

Welcome to my Blog

I'm sorry the name isn't more creative. Usually I don't have to think of names. Usually I just write in my journal, which (hopefully) no one reads except me, and which does not have a name. But a few people requested that I have a little blog, so I'm making one. Don't worry, I'm not so vain that I think people are actually going to read every word, but I figure if all the people who said they'd check it, do, then between the three of them, every word will be read.

Anyway, this is my blog, in which I will describe all my European adventures that will occur between September 16th, 2009 and July 27, 2010. Hope you all enjoy!

Ingie