To pick up where I left off, I made it to Hall. Phew. What a trip. At the train stop at Hall, I was supposed to meet my host mother, Frau (Mrs.) Haug. I gathered all of my bags and exited the train with about 20 other people. I set everything down and took a deep breath. After that brief moment of relief, I started to scan the place for someone who looked like they were looking for me. In a matter of seconds, the “crowd” cleared out and I saw a smiling woman approaching me. I smiled and took a step toward her asking, “Sind Sie Frau Haug?” It was indeed Frau Haug, and we exchanged greetings. This was the first time I had to truly test my German, and it was shaky at best. I could communicate, but again, she spoke so quickly. I had a hard time making out individual words instead of just recognizable but meaningless sounds. Frau Haug noticed I had a little trouble keeping up with her and subsequently slowed down her speech. I was very thankful for that, be assured.
We got a taxi back to the house because her son is currently borrowing the car…but more about her children later. My first impression of Hall was: absolutely gorgeous—and absolutely German. Everything and everyone here just looks German. It is very hard to describe if you haven’t experienced something like this. It seems almost cliché to a fault, except it’s not a fault. It is very awesome. If you look at my pictures, you might be able to glimpse what I’m talking about. I’ll talk more about my first adventures through Hall in the next post, though.
Frau Haug told me about her house as we pulled up to it. It was the home of Johannes Brenz from 1522 to 1548. He was a Evangelical reformatory figure and the equivalent of Martin Luther for this region. Yeah I live in his former house. Crazy, right? Why, you ask, do the Haugs get this gem of a residence? Well, Herr (Mr.) Haug is the head of St. Michael’s Church, which just so happens to be the church that is one of Hall’s claims to fame and the church Brenz started. So yeah, I’m pretty much blown away by all of this.
Frau Haug insists that I call her Bärbel (Baerbal), which is short for Barbara for those of you who are wondering. In German, there is a formal tense and an informal tense, and Bärbel insisted I use the informal tense with her after just a few hours. Throughout our conversations, my German is rough at best, and I have some difficulty understanding her. She does know English, but she is not great at it, like me with German. That being said, she is much better at English than I am at German. She can read it just fine, but speaking it is difficult for her—or so she says. She actually speaks it pretty well, but she is unsure of herself and has to ask me if certain things are right. We only speak English, though, when I am having trouble comprehending something. We speak German first always, which I love (and desperately need in order to improve), and then resort to English if I’m struggling still on the third or fourth attempt.
I find myself using the German words I know a lot but then coming up short on one or two words per every three sentences. I have to insert English words in these gaps and then ask how to say them in German. It is a very frustrating experience. I have always felt that a strength of mine was the ability to express myself well. Also, as you can tell from reading this, I tend to be verbose. I can do neither yet in German. I have so many thoughts in my head all at once, but I cannot express myself quickly enough in German. I think a mile a minute, but by the time I have selected the German words to say one or two things, I have lost two other questions or points that I had. That is why I am here though! I need to improve so I can communicate well. Soon, I hope I can let my personality shine through my expressions like I can in English. That will just take time.
Anyway, back to the house. It is absolutely gorgeous and over 700 years old. No biggie. My room is on the second floor (well actually the third—in Germany the first floor is like a “welcome floor” and the second floor is the first floor.). I have the whole upstairs to myself. It is where the three Haug children used to live. My room is Ulrike’s old room. She is the oldest of the three and the only girl. The room is definitely big enough and has a beautiful view from both windows. In the hallway, there is a bathroom which I have all to myself, a lounge with TV and stereo, and the two other bedrooms. All three of the kids are gone at the moment. Ulrike, 30, is studying in Stuttgart. Joachim, 28, is studying in Freiburg, and Martin, 26, is studying in Dresden. From what I gather, Martin is coming back home this weekend with the car.
I settled in to my new room once we arrived, feeling pure excitement, pure exhaustion (I still have only slept “two hours” at this point), and pure anxiety all at once. The first two feelings seem rather obvious, but why anxious? I knew that from here on out my life would be challenge after challenge as I fought to improve and communicate in German. Herr Haug, who insists that I call him Richard, came home from work around 19:00 (7:00 PM) and we ate dinner around 19:30.
Dinner was a very interesting experience for several reasons. First of all, I had to introduce myself to Richard and become acquainted with him. He speaks very good English and seems very intelligent, as does Bärbel. As I mentioned, he is the head of St. Michael’s church, and Bärbel is a French teacher at the university here. Richard studied for years in Edinborough, so he claims his good English on that. The things we talked about at dinner included my education (they seem impressed and surprised at the chemistry and psychology combination); the sports I play; the region of the US I am from and where I go to school (we broke out the maps for this one); and our past travels. A few points:
• There is no rugby in Hall, but it is around Germany. This saddened me, but they mentioned that American football is very big here. The university even has a team. During WWII, American officers stayed in Hall and apparently established a love for football. Bärbel knows one of the coaches and said she will mention that I am interested!!
• The Haugs have traveled to Columbia, Peru, the US, and all around Europe. Richard speaks decent Spanish, he said.
• They visited the US when Ulrike, their daughter, spent a year in high school at Harper Creek High School in Michigan. She speaks fluent English.
For dinner, we had a variety of things to eat. We started with a grainy soup that we garnished with crunchy little balls of some kind of grain. I asked what it was called, but now I can’t remember…it was good though. After the soup, we moved on to the main course. I drank hot tea, as did Richard and Bärbel, and we ate bread and meat. There were several kinds of bread, but my favorite was Preztelbrot. At least I think that was what it was called. It is the consistency of a soft pretzel with a crunchy outside and salt on the outside, too. However, it is shaped like a giant dinner roll. I asked how I should go about eating all of the food, and Richard gladly showed me. We buttered the bread and then put salami on it and ate. I then ate cheese with flat, cracker-like bread. Also, they had this meat that was in a flavored gelatin. It was a rectangular prism with two rows of meat in circles. Filling the gaps between the circles of meat was the gelatin. The consistency and texture of the gelatin was not something I am used to and took some adjustment, but it tasted good. Dinner took awhile because we were talking about everything the whole time. I got so involved in trying to speak German that I didn’t even notice the radishes on the edge of the table. Apparently Bärbel and Richard both ate some, but I was so focused on trying to communicate that I missed that bowl completely.
After dinner we cleared the table, and they said I was welcome to go to bed. I happy accepted the offer, seeing as I was completely exhausted. I brushed my teeth and collapsed into bed around 22:00. What a day!! Well, more like 36 hours…
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
How six hours were magically deleted from my life...
DISCLAIMER: This is a long post. I detail everything about my flight and trip to Germany so that I can remember this when I look back. You might want to scan for the highlights.
Here is a summary:
1. My height gets noticed the second I step on the plane in Louisville.
2. The flight to Germany is good, but I don't sleep much.
3. The Amsterdam Airport, Schiphol, is huge and I made a fool of myself.
4. Stuttgart was an adrenaline rush because I had to buy my own train tickets and navigate the train station within 10 minutes and manage to carry all of my bags at the same time.
I am here in Germany!!
I have so so SO much to talk about, and I am still in my first 20 hours of being here. Because of that, I am going to break up my experiences over the last 36 hours into a couple posts. First, the trip.
Ok, so I know we've all heard of comfort zones. And we've all heard of streching them, right? In order to grow as a person, we need to take a step out of our comfort zones and stretch them to new limits. Well, if my physical growth were to coincide with my personal growth over the past few days, I would be standing roughly 10 feet tall.
I will now admit, now that I am actually in Germany and my excursion to Schwaebisch Hall (called Hall for short) is over, that I was absolutely terrified about my journey to Germany. I don't get scared in any capacity very easily. However, this was my first time flying out of the country, flying in a different country, speaking another language out of necessity, and traveling within another country. Also, I was doing this completely alone. I am all for independence. I wouldn't have it any other way, but I relied strictly on my mental fortitude to remain calm and not freak out. I was successful in my attempts to remain calm, but I can't remember the last time I had to give myself so many internal pep talks to remain composed.
My flight from Louisville to Memphis was easy enough. I had a window seat (which I did request) on a small commuter jet. When I walked into the plane, or ducked into the plane rather, the flight attendant, named Rose Marie, took one look at me and asked, "What seat did they give you?" I laughed and said the emergency exit row, so no worries. The seat next to me was occupied, but the whole row in front of me was empty. Rose Marie came up to me about 2 minutes after I sat down and asked if I wanted more room because I was a "big guy". The man sitting next to me moved up, leaving me my beloved window seat and the whole emergency row to myself. He turned around and asked me, "How tall are you?" There's my quota for the day, but it was definitely not the last time my stature was noticed on this trip. I responded with my usual, "Eh, 6'6 1/2." He laughed and retored, "Yeah I noticed you when you walked in that door and felt sorry for you." Great. Haha but the rest of the flight to Memphis was fine. Rose Marie seemed to pity my height because she asked if I needed anything every chance she had. She also asked where I was flying. When I responded, "Germany to study abroad for a semester," her eyes seemed to bulge out of the back of her head and she acted so taken aback. You would think a flight attendant would be more accustomed to people traveling, right?
The wait in Memphis was fine. I board my plane to Amsterdam with ease. I think I experienced two different worlds in the realm of aircraft because this plane is the biggest freaking commerical jet I have ever seen. Those of you who have been overseas before are probably laughing at my awe now, but prior to this, the biggest plane I had ever been on had three seats on either side of the aisle. This sucker had two seats, aisle, four seats in the middle section, aisle, and then another two seats. Huge! And the wings were monstrously large.
I requested a window seat for this plane as well, and I sat against the right side of the plane, right on the wing. There were plenty of empty seats (I guess the demand to fly from Memphis to Amsterdam on a Tuesday night in January just isn't there), so I had the seat next to me free to use. A German family sat behind me and subsequently spread out to the empty rows next to us so they could lay down to sleep. I tried to understand what they were say, but they had thick accents and spoke very quickly. This was my first experience with trying to understand German from the mouth of a German. It was not encouraging.
The flight was fine. I tried to watch a few movies, but I could not focus. I studied for most of the time, trying to absorb any last lessons from my German textbooks as I could. Sleeping was out of the question for most of the 9 hour flight. My mind was racing too quickly to calm down for real sleep. I drifted in and out for about two hours, but that was the extent of my sleep for Tuesday night. We flew from Memphis up to D.C., then over Boston and up to Newfoundland. It was crazy to think I was that far north, and I had failed to realize how far north Amsterdam, and Great Britain for that matter, actually lies.
Upon arriving in Amsterdam, I though back to a conversation I had when I visited my friends at the University of Kentucky last week before I left. My friend Rick told me about his 5 week trip to Europe the summer after our senior year in high school. He said something like: "...landing in Europe isn't as strange as you might imagine. You look around and see that you are still on plant Earth." This echoed through my head as I exited the plane. There were never word more true. This seemed like a normal airport...until I continued to my gate, that is. I had to pass through security to get from one terminal to the next, which I found unusual but rather logicial. I, of course, was very nervous and fumbled my way through security. Both people I spoke with talked to me with a British accent, but for some reason I was still nervous. I made it through just fine, but then walked by the customs counter.
Not wanting to break any international laws during my first hour in a new country, I asked the congregation of security personnel in front of the customs counter what all needed to be declared. The man I asked looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "You can ask that customs officer over there." I impulsively responded, "But what needs to be declared and what doesn't?" He repeated his answer with a much more pronounced annoyance, and I disheartenedly trudged over to the customs officer. He said I was all clear and sent me on my way. I still felt the burning pangs of embarrassment, though. I had my first moment as one of those "stupid Americans". I hated myself for it. Some people say I'm too hard on myself...
Waiting in the Schiphol, I heard Dutch, English, and German versions of all of the announcements. I never realized how much of an international hub Amsterdam was. I saw people from every region of the world and heard announcements for flights to Nigeria, South Korea, Boston, and Moscow. As I was handing my ticket and passport to the woman at the gate before I got on the plane, she asked me to wait just one momemnt. I, of course, wondered what in the world I could have done wrong. I was one of the last people on the plane. The guy behind me, that last guy in line, started laughing and said in broken English that I am not allowed to fly because I am too big. Of course, I was mildly offended but let it slide. Then the woman handed me my passport and wrote a different seat number on my ticket. She had checked the available seats and gave me an emergency exit row seat with no one next to me. She said I would be more comfortable and have more leg room there. Apparently my height struck her as well. I thought the Dutch were tall? Shouldn't she be used to us giants?
The flight was run by a French flight crew. One flight attendant spoke German and French while the other spoke French and English. The captain spoke English, too, as well as Dutch, German, and French. An excitable group of 6 German women sat behind me and laughed at random things the entire flight. Again, understanding them was very difficult, but I wasn't worried about that. I have a hard enough time understanding 6 women talking to each other in English.
Touching down in Stuttgart was nothing short of ordinary. I got off the plane, got my luggage very easily, and followed the signs to the S-Bahn, or Subway. There I went to get my tickets for the train to Hall, and realized I had all of 6 minutes to purchase the ticket and get to my platform before the next train came. So hurriedly printed out my ticket and time information and made it to the platform with a minute to spare. I had far more luggage than anyone else, but I think I was the only foreigner there. The train from the airport to the main train station took about 30 minutes with several stops, including one at the University of Stuttgart. Here, a guy about my age sat down next to me, took one look at my luggage, and put his earphones in. I was glad to have been excused the opportunity to talk to him. I was so nervous that I would have sounded like more of a blubbering idiot than normal. Once we rolled into the main train station in Stuttgart, things started getting interesting. Getting all of my bags off the train took a second, and some Germans laughed at me. They muttered something, but I just looked them in the eye and said, "Entshuldigung Sie mich." That means excuse me. They stopped laughing and let me pass through. I then hurried through the station to get to my next train to Heilbronn. I made it again, with about a minute to spare. It was a 45 minute ride, and it took all 45 minutes to slow my heart rate down.
On the train, two students about 19 or 20 got on at a stop and talked together. I picked up enough, but Germans speak so quickly. I feel like they must shoot speed and then start a conversation because it sounds like German times the speed of lightning. I made my transition to the last train to Hall at Heilbronn. That was also a 45 minute train ride. I stood the entire time on that train because it was crowded. However, I almost fell asleep several times standing up. By that time, it was 16:00 (4:00 PM) or 10:00 AM in the US. I had been up for 24 for hours and had barely gotten 2 hours sleep on the plane.
I finally made it to Hall, where my host mother, Baerbal Haug, met me. But more about my host family later. That is quite enough for one post, and it was assuredly quite enough to pack into 24 hours. I am tired again just typing about it. Know that I love Hall and my host family is awesome. You will hear about them later.
Here is a summary:
1. My height gets noticed the second I step on the plane in Louisville.
2. The flight to Germany is good, but I don't sleep much.
3. The Amsterdam Airport, Schiphol, is huge and I made a fool of myself.
4. Stuttgart was an adrenaline rush because I had to buy my own train tickets and navigate the train station within 10 minutes and manage to carry all of my bags at the same time.
I am here in Germany!!
I have so so SO much to talk about, and I am still in my first 20 hours of being here. Because of that, I am going to break up my experiences over the last 36 hours into a couple posts. First, the trip.
Ok, so I know we've all heard of comfort zones. And we've all heard of streching them, right? In order to grow as a person, we need to take a step out of our comfort zones and stretch them to new limits. Well, if my physical growth were to coincide with my personal growth over the past few days, I would be standing roughly 10 feet tall.
I will now admit, now that I am actually in Germany and my excursion to Schwaebisch Hall (called Hall for short) is over, that I was absolutely terrified about my journey to Germany. I don't get scared in any capacity very easily. However, this was my first time flying out of the country, flying in a different country, speaking another language out of necessity, and traveling within another country. Also, I was doing this completely alone. I am all for independence. I wouldn't have it any other way, but I relied strictly on my mental fortitude to remain calm and not freak out. I was successful in my attempts to remain calm, but I can't remember the last time I had to give myself so many internal pep talks to remain composed.
My flight from Louisville to Memphis was easy enough. I had a window seat (which I did request) on a small commuter jet. When I walked into the plane, or ducked into the plane rather, the flight attendant, named Rose Marie, took one look at me and asked, "What seat did they give you?" I laughed and said the emergency exit row, so no worries. The seat next to me was occupied, but the whole row in front of me was empty. Rose Marie came up to me about 2 minutes after I sat down and asked if I wanted more room because I was a "big guy". The man sitting next to me moved up, leaving me my beloved window seat and the whole emergency row to myself. He turned around and asked me, "How tall are you?" There's my quota for the day, but it was definitely not the last time my stature was noticed on this trip. I responded with my usual, "Eh, 6'6 1/2." He laughed and retored, "Yeah I noticed you when you walked in that door and felt sorry for you." Great. Haha but the rest of the flight to Memphis was fine. Rose Marie seemed to pity my height because she asked if I needed anything every chance she had. She also asked where I was flying. When I responded, "Germany to study abroad for a semester," her eyes seemed to bulge out of the back of her head and she acted so taken aback. You would think a flight attendant would be more accustomed to people traveling, right?
The wait in Memphis was fine. I board my plane to Amsterdam with ease. I think I experienced two different worlds in the realm of aircraft because this plane is the biggest freaking commerical jet I have ever seen. Those of you who have been overseas before are probably laughing at my awe now, but prior to this, the biggest plane I had ever been on had three seats on either side of the aisle. This sucker had two seats, aisle, four seats in the middle section, aisle, and then another two seats. Huge! And the wings were monstrously large.
I requested a window seat for this plane as well, and I sat against the right side of the plane, right on the wing. There were plenty of empty seats (I guess the demand to fly from Memphis to Amsterdam on a Tuesday night in January just isn't there), so I had the seat next to me free to use. A German family sat behind me and subsequently spread out to the empty rows next to us so they could lay down to sleep. I tried to understand what they were say, but they had thick accents and spoke very quickly. This was my first experience with trying to understand German from the mouth of a German. It was not encouraging.
The flight was fine. I tried to watch a few movies, but I could not focus. I studied for most of the time, trying to absorb any last lessons from my German textbooks as I could. Sleeping was out of the question for most of the 9 hour flight. My mind was racing too quickly to calm down for real sleep. I drifted in and out for about two hours, but that was the extent of my sleep for Tuesday night. We flew from Memphis up to D.C., then over Boston and up to Newfoundland. It was crazy to think I was that far north, and I had failed to realize how far north Amsterdam, and Great Britain for that matter, actually lies.
Upon arriving in Amsterdam, I though back to a conversation I had when I visited my friends at the University of Kentucky last week before I left. My friend Rick told me about his 5 week trip to Europe the summer after our senior year in high school. He said something like: "...landing in Europe isn't as strange as you might imagine. You look around and see that you are still on plant Earth." This echoed through my head as I exited the plane. There were never word more true. This seemed like a normal airport...until I continued to my gate, that is. I had to pass through security to get from one terminal to the next, which I found unusual but rather logicial. I, of course, was very nervous and fumbled my way through security. Both people I spoke with talked to me with a British accent, but for some reason I was still nervous. I made it through just fine, but then walked by the customs counter.
Not wanting to break any international laws during my first hour in a new country, I asked the congregation of security personnel in front of the customs counter what all needed to be declared. The man I asked looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "You can ask that customs officer over there." I impulsively responded, "But what needs to be declared and what doesn't?" He repeated his answer with a much more pronounced annoyance, and I disheartenedly trudged over to the customs officer. He said I was all clear and sent me on my way. I still felt the burning pangs of embarrassment, though. I had my first moment as one of those "stupid Americans". I hated myself for it. Some people say I'm too hard on myself...
Waiting in the Schiphol, I heard Dutch, English, and German versions of all of the announcements. I never realized how much of an international hub Amsterdam was. I saw people from every region of the world and heard announcements for flights to Nigeria, South Korea, Boston, and Moscow. As I was handing my ticket and passport to the woman at the gate before I got on the plane, she asked me to wait just one momemnt. I, of course, wondered what in the world I could have done wrong. I was one of the last people on the plane. The guy behind me, that last guy in line, started laughing and said in broken English that I am not allowed to fly because I am too big. Of course, I was mildly offended but let it slide. Then the woman handed me my passport and wrote a different seat number on my ticket. She had checked the available seats and gave me an emergency exit row seat with no one next to me. She said I would be more comfortable and have more leg room there. Apparently my height struck her as well. I thought the Dutch were tall? Shouldn't she be used to us giants?
The flight was run by a French flight crew. One flight attendant spoke German and French while the other spoke French and English. The captain spoke English, too, as well as Dutch, German, and French. An excitable group of 6 German women sat behind me and laughed at random things the entire flight. Again, understanding them was very difficult, but I wasn't worried about that. I have a hard enough time understanding 6 women talking to each other in English.
Touching down in Stuttgart was nothing short of ordinary. I got off the plane, got my luggage very easily, and followed the signs to the S-Bahn, or Subway. There I went to get my tickets for the train to Hall, and realized I had all of 6 minutes to purchase the ticket and get to my platform before the next train came. So hurriedly printed out my ticket and time information and made it to the platform with a minute to spare. I had far more luggage than anyone else, but I think I was the only foreigner there. The train from the airport to the main train station took about 30 minutes with several stops, including one at the University of Stuttgart. Here, a guy about my age sat down next to me, took one look at my luggage, and put his earphones in. I was glad to have been excused the opportunity to talk to him. I was so nervous that I would have sounded like more of a blubbering idiot than normal. Once we rolled into the main train station in Stuttgart, things started getting interesting. Getting all of my bags off the train took a second, and some Germans laughed at me. They muttered something, but I just looked them in the eye and said, "Entshuldigung Sie mich." That means excuse me. They stopped laughing and let me pass through. I then hurried through the station to get to my next train to Heilbronn. I made it again, with about a minute to spare. It was a 45 minute ride, and it took all 45 minutes to slow my heart rate down.
On the train, two students about 19 or 20 got on at a stop and talked together. I picked up enough, but Germans speak so quickly. I feel like they must shoot speed and then start a conversation because it sounds like German times the speed of lightning. I made my transition to the last train to Hall at Heilbronn. That was also a 45 minute train ride. I stood the entire time on that train because it was crowded. However, I almost fell asleep several times standing up. By that time, it was 16:00 (4:00 PM) or 10:00 AM in the US. I had been up for 24 for hours and had barely gotten 2 hours sleep on the plane.
I finally made it to Hall, where my host mother, Baerbal Haug, met me. But more about my host family later. That is quite enough for one post, and it was assuredly quite enough to pack into 24 hours. I am tired again just typing about it. Know that I love Hall and my host family is awesome. You will hear about them later.
Friday, January 22, 2010
And so it begins...
Hey everyone!
This is the beginning of the adventure blog, as I like to dub it, for my three-month stay in Germany. I am now approaching about 90 hours until I depart from Louisville. I am starting the ever-so-delightful packing process tomorrow and hopefully getting the majority of it done during the day. As I have traveled to South Carolina and UK to visit people and say goodbye for the semester, a vast majority are curious about what my program includes exactly. If you are curious, didn't know, or have forgotten, here are the basics:
1. Cultural Immersion Program through Rotary International
2. Taking only German classes at a language institution called the Goethe Institute
3. Living with a host family--a husband and wife named the Haugs
4. Studying for three months, Feb 1st-Apr 30th are the dates I'll be in class
5. I will either return in mid/late May or early Aug depending on a few possibilities
6. I will be in Schwaebisch Hall, Germany. It is close to Stuttgart in SW Germany
As I prepare for my travels, feelings of apprehension, excitement, and surreality set in. I cannot fathom the fact that this time next week I will be walking the streets of a small town in Germany. I am nervous based only on the actuality that there will be a language difference. Obviously, a good number of Germans speak English, but the fact remains that I will be required to speak a language that I am still learning. I mean, I am going on a cultural immersion program in order to greatly improve my German language skills, so it will be an awesome and highly educational adventure. Becoming conversational is one of the biggest goals of my expedition. But...it still is a little nerve-racking. Despite the nerves, the experience of being in a foreign setting, both linguistically and culturally, is probably the most exciting aspect of my trip, too.
To be completely honest with you, I could talk for a decent amount of time about the things I am expecting to think, feel, and experience once I set foot on that plane and the subsequent events. However, I have NO IDEA what to expect, so my postulations of these expectations are well...worthless. My imagination just doesn't have enough similar experiences to draw from to form a complete conjecture of the things waiting for me overseas. So I'm just going to go with what happens. My mantra at the moment is: "If something strange or difficult happens, it will be a good story later." That being said, I do hope that I don't acquire too many stories in the first few days...
More to come once I'm in Germany!!
This is the beginning of the adventure blog, as I like to dub it, for my three-month stay in Germany. I am now approaching about 90 hours until I depart from Louisville. I am starting the ever-so-delightful packing process tomorrow and hopefully getting the majority of it done during the day. As I have traveled to South Carolina and UK to visit people and say goodbye for the semester, a vast majority are curious about what my program includes exactly. If you are curious, didn't know, or have forgotten, here are the basics:
1. Cultural Immersion Program through Rotary International
2. Taking only German classes at a language institution called the Goethe Institute
3. Living with a host family--a husband and wife named the Haugs
4. Studying for three months, Feb 1st-Apr 30th are the dates I'll be in class
5. I will either return in mid/late May or early Aug depending on a few possibilities
6. I will be in Schwaebisch Hall, Germany. It is close to Stuttgart in SW Germany
As I prepare for my travels, feelings of apprehension, excitement, and surreality set in. I cannot fathom the fact that this time next week I will be walking the streets of a small town in Germany. I am nervous based only on the actuality that there will be a language difference. Obviously, a good number of Germans speak English, but the fact remains that I will be required to speak a language that I am still learning. I mean, I am going on a cultural immersion program in order to greatly improve my German language skills, so it will be an awesome and highly educational adventure. Becoming conversational is one of the biggest goals of my expedition. But...it still is a little nerve-racking. Despite the nerves, the experience of being in a foreign setting, both linguistically and culturally, is probably the most exciting aspect of my trip, too.
To be completely honest with you, I could talk for a decent amount of time about the things I am expecting to think, feel, and experience once I set foot on that plane and the subsequent events. However, I have NO IDEA what to expect, so my postulations of these expectations are well...worthless. My imagination just doesn't have enough similar experiences to draw from to form a complete conjecture of the things waiting for me overseas. So I'm just going to go with what happens. My mantra at the moment is: "If something strange or difficult happens, it will be a good story later." That being said, I do hope that I don't acquire too many stories in the first few days...
More to come once I'm in Germany!!
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