Since before coming over to Germany I've been planning to do a lot of traveling this summer. The travel agency that Fulbright set us all up with, STA Travel, lets you book a return ticket pretty much anytime you like so long as it's within 365 days of your flight to Germany, so I've got my return set for August 30'th. From June 3rd to August 30'th I'll be on the proverbial road: eight-and-a-half weeks out in the world. The planning for all of it has been a little stressful, especially considering the fact that I'm planning and doing everything pretty much 100% solo, as opposed to my last backpacking trip when I was traveling with my friend Alex from the Berlin program, but I am unbelievably stoked to be doing it! I've worked up a really excellent itinerary so far, and while it's not completely set in stone just yet, I'll share the rough outline of what everything is shaping up to look like:
PART ONE: For the first week and a half of July I will, as the famous Lonely Island refrain goes, literally be on a boat. A little while ago one of the other Fulbrighters in Kiel who's really into the sailing scene up there put up a link to this website. The organization, ELSA (English Learning Sailing Adventures), now in its second year, does English learning sailing trips for German students. Essentially you jump on board a ship, learn how to sail, and get two hours of English instruction per day. This, of course, struck me as an amazingly cool opportunity, and I sent the guy who runs everything an email asking if I could come aboard and work. Not only did I get a spot on the trip, but in exchange for teaching I get the whole thing for free! So from the 4'th of July to the 13'th I'll be on the Gulden Leeuw (Dutch for Golden Lion). We're departing from Kiel, sailing up through Denmark, and then setting out westward on the North Sea, ending in Aberdeen, Scotland. Not a bad way to start things off!
PART TWO: I'll disembark in Aberdeen, and meet up with my girlfriend Jessie. She's staying in Germany for a couple weeks after our grant period ends, so before she flies back to the US we'll meet up and travel in Scotland for a few days. We'll be spending one night in Aberdeen and two in Edinburgh. After that she'll fly back and I'll be riding the rails for about a week-and-a-half. This part of the trip is still a little vague, and I've got several options I've been thinking of:
1) The first is a trip up to the Isle of Skye, one of the islands in northern Scotland. I've been looking at pictures and reading descriptions of the rock formations and castles and mountains and hiking trails up there, and it looks like such a unique, fascinating place. In the last stage of the journey (more on that in a bit) I'm going to be doing a ton of hiking, so hiking around the Isle of Skye would be a good way to warm up. If I take this option I'd probably spend a few days up on the island and travel further in Scotland afterwards.
2) The second option would be to spend a lot of time in Ireland, which is endlessly recommended to me every time I talk about traveling in Europe. Everyone says to get out to the coast and to check out the rural parts of Ireland, and I would really love to get out and experience that. Nature is something I've seen very little of, having lived in the second largest city in Germany for ten months now, so it sounds particularly appealing to get out into some of the more remote parts of the island. I was talking to one of my friends last night, Marie Eve, who traveled there a little while ago, and she said she'd never seen such green grass or an ocean quite that color in her life. Out of all the places she's ever traveled to in Europe she said Ireland was her favorite--a solid recommendation if I've ever heard one.
3) Another option is to visit my former roommate Loic in Cambridge, in the south of England, for a day or so. He's been working at a language school there for a year or two, and he'll be there over the summer before going back to school in the fall. It was a fabulous time living with him over the course of the year (living with good roommates is such an important part of feeling at home in a place), and it hardly seems right to be in the area and not visit him. The only thing is that he's incredibly busy when he's down there, so it may not end up that I get to see very much of him if I visit. But we'll see how it turns out.
PART THREE: The final stretch of the trip, and in a lot of ways the one I'm looking forward to the most, is something called the Camino de Santiago in Spain. The Camino is an ancient pilgrim's path in northern Spain, which runs from St. Jean Pied de Port in the French Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostela in the northwest corner of Spain. The path runs all the way along Spain lengthwise, and it is about 800 kilometers in total. Here's a map of the route so you can get an idea of what it looks like. A while ago one of the girls who was in IC Voicestream with me, KC Englander, did a documentary on the Camino, where she traveled along the route with a film crew and documented the experiences of the people walking it. You can visit the website for the documentary here and check out the trailer for the film (as yet uncompleted) here. At the time I thought it would be an amazing thing to do, but forgot about it until yet another ICVSer, Shannon, walked part of it a few weeks ago.
It is going to be very intense: five straight weeks of walking 25+ kilometers a day (16+ miles), but it appeals to me for a lot of reasons. Firstly, it's just a damn cool thing to do. Countless tens of thousands have done a European rail journey (including me!), but there's something special about doing a hike like this. Out in the wilderness, taking my time, seeing a part of Europe that few people get to experience, it's a very unique opportunity. I've been looking at photos and watching videos and reading up on it, and it looks so staggeringly beautiful in places.
Secondly, there's a simplicity to it that I wouldn't get if I traveled somewhere else. One of the worst things about traveling in Europe, ESPECIALLY during the summer, is the maddening logistics of it all. Where am I going? What am I going to see? How long am I staying? Where am I going to stay? How much does it cost? Where am I going after that? Am I missing out on something by traveling to destination X instead of destination Y? Ad nauseum. Not only do you have to make an endless series of very complex decisions while trying to enjoy the trip at the same time, but you're almost competing with the other tourists around you while you're doing it. In 2009 I wanted to travel to Stockholm, and I couldn't find a single hostel with a free bed in the whole city, and this is the capitol of Sweden we're talking about. EVERYWHERE was literally booked for weeks in advance. On the Camino, though, there are special hostels for pilgrims called Aubergines. You show up, pay a very small sum (7-10 Euros usually), stay one night, and they kick you out at 8 AM so they can serve the next round of hikers coming through. The path is predetermined, the accommodations bountiful and inexpensive, and the only schedule I have to worry about is my own walking pace.
And finally, it's seeming more and more like a really special, significant way to end this year. I've undergone so many changes and experienced so much over the past ten months, and this summer is likely going to be...let's change that, definitely going to be one of the most significant and memorable things I ever do with my life. Even if I'm not doing the pilgrimage for religious reasons, there's a strong symbolism with walking a path to a final destination, something loaded with meaning and hundreds of years of history. It seems like the appropriate way to end my year in Europe: one final journey before I finally pack my bags, get on a plane and say goodbye to this place. Everybody walks the Camino for a different reason, and mine will be to give this year closure and bring it to an end.
So that's the plan! As is the case with all things, the details will endlessly reorganize and shift and switch around until I'm actually on the road doing it, but for now this is the mostly finalized form.
I. can. not. wait.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Hopes and Expectations, Black Holes and Revelations
As this year winds down to a close, I’ve been thinking it’d be a cool thing to write down some of the expectations I had before coming to Germany, and the realities that I ended up experiencing over here. Needless to say, I spent weeks and months during the buildup to this year imagining up a million different ways this would all turn out, where I would go, what I would do, and pretty much none of it happened the way I anticipated. I’ll probably have more later, but here are a few:
1) I would have brilliant, Wunderkind students. Every German I’d ever met until coming to Hamburg in September spoke fantastic English. And by fantastic I mean that sometimes when I’d try to have conversations with them in my own choppy, mutilated version of their language they’d simply switch to English mid-sentence and carry on as if I was speaking with any other normal American. This gave me a pretty distorted perspective on the level of English in Germany, and gave me really inflated expectations for my students. I thought if everybody that I ever tried to speak German with pretty much spoke perfect English already that the level of language instruction in German schools must be incredibly advanced. What’s more, English is one of the few required subjects to take in German schools, so I figured that any given class would be incredibly fluent compared to its American counterparts.
Well, I was wrong. I packed along the Norton Anthology of Poetry (a leftover from my Intro to Poetry course in college), hoping to use it in class and do some lessons on poetry, and after a few weeks I barely even gave a thought to opening it. It’s not that the students are horrible. On the contrary, some of them are REALLY good--incredibly good when you consider that they only ever get three to four hours of English instruction per week—but it’s not on the level I expected. I’ve seen fifth graders draw a dozen questions marks on a test instead of answering the questions because they didn’t understand anything; had seventh graders ask me what the word “but” means in German; seen tenth graders who still say “Have you a pen?” instead of “Do you have a pen?” after six years of English. So I had to readjust my expectations and take things slower than I wanted, and after I came to grips with that I started being much more effective at teaching.
2) I’d live with Germans, only have German friends, and be completely integrated into the city. Before coming over here I expected complete, total, 100% immersion into the culture. When I was in Berlin in the summer before senior year I mostly ran around with the other Americans in my study abroad program. Granted, I still learned a lot of German in a very short amount of time, but aside for the German I was living with and the professors at school I had very little contact with the people of Berlin themselves. This time around I was more interested in getting totally surrounded by the German culture, and was convinced that I’d barely have any other American friends.
This, too, turned out to be an expectation that didn’t pan out. Had I lived in a smaller city with no other Fulbrighters or other teaching assistants this may have turned out differently, but after a whole ten months in Hamburg I’ve made relatively few German friends. At the orientation I met the other three guys who were placed in Hamburg with me (John, Brendan, and Karl), and from the beginning we’ve spent a lot of time around each other. I had been nervous about making friends before coming, but I didn’t realize how lonely things can be in reality when you arrive in a new city. It was a huge mental adjustment building a life over here, getting used to the school, and trying to integrate myself into the city. At the beginning all four of us were pretty much in the same boat, and didn’t know anyone else in Hamburg, so we all hung out with each other. As much as I wanted to get really deep into the city, I hadn’t stopped to consider how nice it is to have people around you who are in the same position as you are and who are going through the same things. Even though we speak a ton of English around each other, it has been really valuable to have the other Fulbrighters here in Hamburg and around the area as well. By now we’ve all become really good friends.
And even besides Karl, Brendan, and John, I at least managed to make a lot of European friends. There are similar assistant teacher programs for a lot of European countries alongside the Fulbright program in Germany, so there was actually a little mini network of 20-something expatriates all throughout the city. As I think I mentioned, my (now ex-) roommate Loic (another assistant like me) is French, and I’ve made a ton of French, Spanish, English, Polish, and even French Canadian friends. For the most part we all spoke German amongst each other too, so even if I didn’t necessarily get the German friends I was looking for, I at least found a bunch of people to practice the language with.
3) I’d spend this year in Germany, have my fill, and want to be back in the USA by the end of it. For a long time the song Starlight by Muse was the sort of guiding philosophy for this experience, one lyric in particular: “Starlight / I will be chasing it, Starlight / until the end of my life / I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.” I saw Germany as my Starlight: that thing out at the far reaches of space, something that you spend your entire life reaching out for at the expense of your friends and family and everyone back home. Heading out here for a whole year would mean sacrificing to some degree all my relationships back home. I could stay back and make sure I kept all of those friendships and stayed in close contact, or I could step into the spaceship and disappear for a while, out chasing some sort of fantastical, far flung adventure on the other side of the world. And after all, I wouldn’t be out there forever, I’d come back eventually, and everyone would still be there when I got back. As the bridge in Starlight goes: “I’ll never let you go / if you promise not to fade away.”
And now it’s turning out to be the exact opposite: I don’t want to leave! I entirely underestimated the effect being over here for so long would have on me. When you get down to it, I just really enjoy the life over here: always not quite in my element, always just a little outside of the culture. I’m not German, and that gives me a unique appreciation for a lot of things in this country. For the most part it’s a lot of fun not quite belonging to the culture of a place—until you’re a foreigner yourself you can’t quite understand the double-edged nature of being a stranger in a strange land. How simple things like registering your address with the city government or getting a haircut spark deep-rooted spasms of loathing and terror in you because of all the unknown and confusing vocabulary you’ll come up against; how you’re always the most interesting person at any given party, even though it’s sometimes really hard to loosen up your tongue and really use the language to your full ability (Astra helps); how the locals find your accent and imperfect grasp of their grammar endearing and “sympathisch.” It seems really boring in comparison to think of going back to America, where I know how everything works and I’m just another Ami among hundreds of millions.
1) I would have brilliant, Wunderkind students. Every German I’d ever met until coming to Hamburg in September spoke fantastic English. And by fantastic I mean that sometimes when I’d try to have conversations with them in my own choppy, mutilated version of their language they’d simply switch to English mid-sentence and carry on as if I was speaking with any other normal American. This gave me a pretty distorted perspective on the level of English in Germany, and gave me really inflated expectations for my students. I thought if everybody that I ever tried to speak German with pretty much spoke perfect English already that the level of language instruction in German schools must be incredibly advanced. What’s more, English is one of the few required subjects to take in German schools, so I figured that any given class would be incredibly fluent compared to its American counterparts.
Well, I was wrong. I packed along the Norton Anthology of Poetry (a leftover from my Intro to Poetry course in college), hoping to use it in class and do some lessons on poetry, and after a few weeks I barely even gave a thought to opening it. It’s not that the students are horrible. On the contrary, some of them are REALLY good--incredibly good when you consider that they only ever get three to four hours of English instruction per week—but it’s not on the level I expected. I’ve seen fifth graders draw a dozen questions marks on a test instead of answering the questions because they didn’t understand anything; had seventh graders ask me what the word “but” means in German; seen tenth graders who still say “Have you a pen?” instead of “Do you have a pen?” after six years of English. So I had to readjust my expectations and take things slower than I wanted, and after I came to grips with that I started being much more effective at teaching.
2) I’d live with Germans, only have German friends, and be completely integrated into the city. Before coming over here I expected complete, total, 100% immersion into the culture. When I was in Berlin in the summer before senior year I mostly ran around with the other Americans in my study abroad program. Granted, I still learned a lot of German in a very short amount of time, but aside for the German I was living with and the professors at school I had very little contact with the people of Berlin themselves. This time around I was more interested in getting totally surrounded by the German culture, and was convinced that I’d barely have any other American friends.
This, too, turned out to be an expectation that didn’t pan out. Had I lived in a smaller city with no other Fulbrighters or other teaching assistants this may have turned out differently, but after a whole ten months in Hamburg I’ve made relatively few German friends. At the orientation I met the other three guys who were placed in Hamburg with me (John, Brendan, and Karl), and from the beginning we’ve spent a lot of time around each other. I had been nervous about making friends before coming, but I didn’t realize how lonely things can be in reality when you arrive in a new city. It was a huge mental adjustment building a life over here, getting used to the school, and trying to integrate myself into the city. At the beginning all four of us were pretty much in the same boat, and didn’t know anyone else in Hamburg, so we all hung out with each other. As much as I wanted to get really deep into the city, I hadn’t stopped to consider how nice it is to have people around you who are in the same position as you are and who are going through the same things. Even though we speak a ton of English around each other, it has been really valuable to have the other Fulbrighters here in Hamburg and around the area as well. By now we’ve all become really good friends.
And even besides Karl, Brendan, and John, I at least managed to make a lot of European friends. There are similar assistant teacher programs for a lot of European countries alongside the Fulbright program in Germany, so there was actually a little mini network of 20-something expatriates all throughout the city. As I think I mentioned, my (now ex-) roommate Loic (another assistant like me) is French, and I’ve made a ton of French, Spanish, English, Polish, and even French Canadian friends. For the most part we all spoke German amongst each other too, so even if I didn’t necessarily get the German friends I was looking for, I at least found a bunch of people to practice the language with.
3) I’d spend this year in Germany, have my fill, and want to be back in the USA by the end of it. For a long time the song Starlight by Muse was the sort of guiding philosophy for this experience, one lyric in particular: “Starlight / I will be chasing it, Starlight / until the end of my life / I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.” I saw Germany as my Starlight: that thing out at the far reaches of space, something that you spend your entire life reaching out for at the expense of your friends and family and everyone back home. Heading out here for a whole year would mean sacrificing to some degree all my relationships back home. I could stay back and make sure I kept all of those friendships and stayed in close contact, or I could step into the spaceship and disappear for a while, out chasing some sort of fantastical, far flung adventure on the other side of the world. And after all, I wouldn’t be out there forever, I’d come back eventually, and everyone would still be there when I got back. As the bridge in Starlight goes: “I’ll never let you go / if you promise not to fade away.”
And now it’s turning out to be the exact opposite: I don’t want to leave! I entirely underestimated the effect being over here for so long would have on me. When you get down to it, I just really enjoy the life over here: always not quite in my element, always just a little outside of the culture. I’m not German, and that gives me a unique appreciation for a lot of things in this country. For the most part it’s a lot of fun not quite belonging to the culture of a place—until you’re a foreigner yourself you can’t quite understand the double-edged nature of being a stranger in a strange land. How simple things like registering your address with the city government or getting a haircut spark deep-rooted spasms of loathing and terror in you because of all the unknown and confusing vocabulary you’ll come up against; how you’re always the most interesting person at any given party, even though it’s sometimes really hard to loosen up your tongue and really use the language to your full ability (Astra helps); how the locals find your accent and imperfect grasp of their grammar endearing and “sympathisch.” It seems really boring in comparison to think of going back to America, where I know how everything works and I’m just another Ami among hundreds of millions.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Londinium
A couple of weeks ago I went on a class trip with a bunch of the 8'th graders at my school to London. Around the beginning of the year my mentor at school asked me if I'd like to come along and chaperone, and, of course, I answered with a resounding yes. The summer after my freshman year I did a short study abroad program in London, and absolutely loved the city. That was my first real experience of being out in world on my own, and the first time I'd ever traveled to Europe before, and the whole thing left a huge impression on me in a lot of ways. It hugely influenced my desire to even consider living outside of the USA. I really count it as one of the most influential experiences in my life.
Plus, the city of London is just cool as hell. Having traveled in a fair number of cities on the continent and lived here for a while, I can say with a fair amount of authority that there's no place like it on Earth. The size of it, the energy, the crush of humanity in places like Piccadilly Circus and Oxford Street, the culture and life you see walking along the South Bank of the Thames--it's really a place unto itself. One of those irreplaceable places in the world. I was really enthusiastic to return.
Anyway, we took off on a Sunday afternoon on an Easyjet airplane and got into the hotel late in the evening. It was interesting seeing the students' reactions to being out of Germany. I think it was the first airplane flight that a lot of them had ever taken, and many of them said it was the first time they'd been this far away from Hamburg. All in all they handled it pretty well. There was a pre-selection process to make sure the students who went along wouldn't cause any problems on the trip, so all of the 30+ students who came along were really well behaved and fun to be with.
That was actually one of the best aspects of the trip: the fact that I could spend more time with the students and get to know them more than I otherwise would in school. You'd think that after spending whole months working with these guys that you'd come to know them pretty well, but I find the opposite is true. The ones who really participate a lot in class of course get more attention and stick in my mind, and when I'm walking around in the courtyard I stop to chat to groups of students often, but on several occasions I've stumbled upon a student in a class who I didn't even know existed since they're so quiet and never raise their hand. There's so much more you have to take into consideration and pay attention to when trying to teach a class than the students themselves, which makes it hard to get to know them as people.
On the trip, however, I got to spend a lot more time with them, chatting and fooling around and cracking jokes. Ironically enough, most of them didn't speak any English to me unless they needed me to translate something or were feeling particularly virtuous and wanted the practice, so it was great for my language ability. I spoke way more German in England than I ever do when I'm in Hamburg, and I had to communicate some difficult concepts to them the whole time: translations of/explanations of art exhibits and monuments; when we're meeting for lunch/dinner/a tour and at what time; why cultural oddity X is how it is in London; why you "shouldn't touch what you don't understand" because that button you just pressed was the emergency call intercom for the London Eye, etc.
Anyway, the whole week would be way too much for one post, but I'll put up the highlights anyway:
1) Taking a group of students to tour and take pictures of the Arsenal stadium after dinner one night. It was particularly cool to walk around the stadium and just see what there was to see. At one point we came across a father and son passing a soccer ball back and forth, and we asked if we could join them for a while, which they agreed to. On the train ride back we also ran into some locals heading home for the night and we sparked up some conversations between them and the students.
2) Leading yet another group to the Tate Modern Gallery to check out the museum. I think a lot of them were confused and bored by all the modern art displays, but while we were going through the museum by ourselves I ended up bumping into one of the girls, and we walked through the rooms together. I sort of "directed her thinking" about the exhibits as it were, offering up little bits of interpretation just to give her a better idea of what everything means/could mean, and by the end she was dragging me from exhibit to exhibit asking me what everything was and what it meant. That was a really special thing for me anyway--to think I might have been the one to introduce a kid to art and maybe spark their interest and appreciation in it.
3) Being back in the city period was wonderful too. The sheer joy and nostalgia of being back in a familiar place is just indescribable. I hadn't been back since summer 2009, but I still hadn't forgotten how the whole things fits together, the stops on the Tube, the feel and look of the city. It was great walking through it all, kinda like walking through a memory while living in the present at the same time.
I'll leave you with a few pictures I took that week
Plus, the city of London is just cool as hell. Having traveled in a fair number of cities on the continent and lived here for a while, I can say with a fair amount of authority that there's no place like it on Earth. The size of it, the energy, the crush of humanity in places like Piccadilly Circus and Oxford Street, the culture and life you see walking along the South Bank of the Thames--it's really a place unto itself. One of those irreplaceable places in the world. I was really enthusiastic to return.
Anyway, we took off on a Sunday afternoon on an Easyjet airplane and got into the hotel late in the evening. It was interesting seeing the students' reactions to being out of Germany. I think it was the first airplane flight that a lot of them had ever taken, and many of them said it was the first time they'd been this far away from Hamburg. All in all they handled it pretty well. There was a pre-selection process to make sure the students who went along wouldn't cause any problems on the trip, so all of the 30+ students who came along were really well behaved and fun to be with.
That was actually one of the best aspects of the trip: the fact that I could spend more time with the students and get to know them more than I otherwise would in school. You'd think that after spending whole months working with these guys that you'd come to know them pretty well, but I find the opposite is true. The ones who really participate a lot in class of course get more attention and stick in my mind, and when I'm walking around in the courtyard I stop to chat to groups of students often, but on several occasions I've stumbled upon a student in a class who I didn't even know existed since they're so quiet and never raise their hand. There's so much more you have to take into consideration and pay attention to when trying to teach a class than the students themselves, which makes it hard to get to know them as people.
On the trip, however, I got to spend a lot more time with them, chatting and fooling around and cracking jokes. Ironically enough, most of them didn't speak any English to me unless they needed me to translate something or were feeling particularly virtuous and wanted the practice, so it was great for my language ability. I spoke way more German in England than I ever do when I'm in Hamburg, and I had to communicate some difficult concepts to them the whole time: translations of/explanations of art exhibits and monuments; when we're meeting for lunch/dinner/a tour and at what time; why cultural oddity X is how it is in London; why you "shouldn't touch what you don't understand" because that button you just pressed was the emergency call intercom for the London Eye, etc.
Anyway, the whole week would be way too much for one post, but I'll put up the highlights anyway:
1) Taking a group of students to tour and take pictures of the Arsenal stadium after dinner one night. It was particularly cool to walk around the stadium and just see what there was to see. At one point we came across a father and son passing a soccer ball back and forth, and we asked if we could join them for a while, which they agreed to. On the train ride back we also ran into some locals heading home for the night and we sparked up some conversations between them and the students.
2) Leading yet another group to the Tate Modern Gallery to check out the museum. I think a lot of them were confused and bored by all the modern art displays, but while we were going through the museum by ourselves I ended up bumping into one of the girls, and we walked through the rooms together. I sort of "directed her thinking" about the exhibits as it were, offering up little bits of interpretation just to give her a better idea of what everything means/could mean, and by the end she was dragging me from exhibit to exhibit asking me what everything was and what it meant. That was a really special thing for me anyway--to think I might have been the one to introduce a kid to art and maybe spark their interest and appreciation in it.
3) Being back in the city period was wonderful too. The sheer joy and nostalgia of being back in a familiar place is just indescribable. I hadn't been back since summer 2009, but I still hadn't forgotten how the whole things fits together, the stops on the Tube, the feel and look of the city. It was great walking through it all, kinda like walking through a memory while living in the present at the same time.
I'll leave you with a few pictures I took that week
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| I think you all know what this is! |
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| The London Eye, the biggest ferris wheel in Europe. |
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| A shot of St. Paul's Cathedral with the Millennium Bridge and the Thames |
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| Me outside of Arsenal's Stadium. |
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| A shot from the Churchill War Rooms, a museum built in the secret war facilities from which Churchill led WWII. |
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| When I was backpacking here in 2009 I took a picture of this poem on a sidewalk tile on the South Bank. I really like it. |
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| The outdoor book shop on the South Bank. I bought The Manticore by Roberston Davies. |
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| In the London Eye! |
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| The kids would recruit me to take group photos from time to time. I think there are like eight cameras hanging from me. |
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| At the end of the trip some of the students bought me chocolates for leading them around the city and helping out and translating. Like I said, really nice kids :) |
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