Isch geh Schulhof

Out of all of the trivial information that my adolescent brain has kept from AP World History, the ‘jinshi’ academic period of the Qing Dynasty has continued to be an important learning tool for me. During the rule of the Qing Dynasty, one of many dynastic families that defined Chinese history throughout the ages, the ‘jinshi’ represented a group of scholars who, after years of rigorous education and an even more frightening examination, were awarded high honors and were promoted into the state’s bureaucracy. The final test was conducted on a three-day period, in which students were held in cells that prevented cheating and not to mention, severely limited the students’ restroom possibilities. Nevertheless, after the three day period, the passing scholars celebrated merrily as the state’s new legislature while many of the failing students out of depression and unbelief jumped from the roof of the academic department where the tests were held. The test defined the difference between honor and shame, and many students decided they could not live with the latter. Though this is a very drastic and gruesome example, many of its ramifications can be compared to modern day high school on the other side of the Pacific.

I, Ryan Cobb, too, was a jinshi. I remember ever since the age of ten I would dream about college and believe in this idea that my report card defined who I was. As I grew older, I continued to see the pressure placed on high school students combined with the overwhelming financial pressure of college. Even in the 8^th grade, my science class watched a documentary titled “2 Million Minutes,” which addressed the time that high school students have to be the best of the best and to make sure that college spots in America are not being taking by the brighter and ever harder-working students in India and China. In my preparations for high school I had a pretty good idea of how the next few years of my life would proceed: I would have to work “a hard day’s night” during high school just in order to not bankrupt my family for college, another place in which I would have to work excessively to get a job that may or may not exist. At fourteen, my childhood was completely out the window and I quickly became a lean mean learning machine. On my first day of high school, I had my entire course curriculum picked out for the next four years. I had calculated all of my possible GPAs that hopefully would declare me as valedictorian, a title that swirled in my head as I worked into dawn every single night, a title that pervaded my dreams and thoughts, and led me also to many emotional breakdowns that were cured on mother’s lap. As extracurricular activates are just as important as the GPA,  I was involved not only in track and cross country during my sophomore year, but also in the theater department, meaning that most days I didn’t see home until 9:30 p.m., at which time I would begin my average four hours of homework. I led an indescribably pressured life, the tension of which was only lightened by the occasional ‘A’ on a report card or the satisfying acknowledgments of my loving parents. What is important to note here, is that I am not an exception to the rule. Thousands of other students in America are pressured with the same work load and are deprived of the same amounts of sleep, regardless of the fact that the U.S. Department of Education claims that high school seniors should have only two hours of homework daily, and the National Sleep Foundation says that teenagers should be sleeping at least eight and half hours a night. Why, I ask myself, were we receiving twice the workload and half the sleep as sophomores? In retrospect, I can see clearly that there was a problem in the education system, one that becomes exponential worse every single year.

That being said, at that time I had no idea that the amount of work I was doing was a comparatively ridiculous amount. I even would become mad at myself when I heard that other students had even more exhausting workloads, as this millennium old idea of ‘jinshi’ was still deeply rooted in my mind. I also would have continued at the pace, working through the back-breaking challenges of junior year like the rest of America’s sleepless zombies, if it weren’t for my very special and eccentric German teacher. On one rainy day in December of 2012, she presented a flyer to the class that was advertising a scholarship-based exchange year to Germany with the Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange program, a thirty year-old program that was created to strengthen the ties between Germany and America during the Cold War. My initial thoughts were, “Eh, why not apply?” I figured that my chances of being accepted were slim, but still I figured a year in Europe could be pretty nice. Because of the overwhelming exhaustion of exams, I decided finally to not finish my application before the deadline. I believed in some sort of idea of fate and that what wasn’t meant to be wasn’t meant to be. However, during Christmas break I was graced with the blessing of a deadline extension and like the efficient American student, I had my application turned in at 11:56 p.m. on January 3, 2013, four minutes before the deadline. At the time, I wasn’t totally sure that I even wanted to spend a year in Europe. It would mean sacrificing my GPA and valedictorianship chance, and that it would take away another valuable year of education. Still, the idea of a “dream year” in Germany grew inside of me, and after being declared semi-finalist and after my following interview in Atlanta, I was completely sold on the idea. Even my parents were open to the thought of losing their son for a year after a month of constantly asking, “Are you sure you want to do this to your life, son?” And sure enough, on March 13^th 2013, I received word that I was as finalist, and that in less than half a year, I would be packing my bags for ten and a half months of German cultural and language immersion (important to mention is that the first people who found out that I was leaving were the other people in the movie theater, who ran from the room in alarm, probably because there was a demented kid running around and screaming at full volume, “I’M GOING TO GERMANY. SHOOSH YEAH, ICH FLIEGE ZUM VATERLAND.” In early August, after a million goodbyes and a thousand reality checks, I was on a flight to Deutschland with forty-nine of the total 250 American exchange students participating in the thirtieth year of the Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange, or CBYX for short. At a German high school in a small village of Bad Laasphe, we were provided with many of the skills necessary in order to survive a year in the beer-drinking, extremely environmentally friendly, ridiculously regulated, and not at all prudish society of the Deutschen. After three weeks of integration, I was shipped off to my host family in Lower Saxony, which is where my year started its wild and beautiful ride. I was enrolled in a German high school and started understanding the difficulty of the German language and the what’s and how’s of German culture. Outside of school, I enjoyed the German soccer addiction, became involved with my school and community, and took many vacations, traveling across Germany and its surrounding nations. Now, I am looking at the last thirty days of my exchange year, and I have already started to finalize my comparisons between American and German life, and the outcomes of which have had an overbearing effect on my character, my beliefs, and have given me the impression that many American systems, especially the educational system, are severely flawed. Contrary to my former values, I learned that I was indeed no true ‘jinshil’ as previously thought, and that I did not have even a shred of desire to be one.

Before my first day of high school, I had learned a trifle of information about the German educational system and how it operates. Basically, all children are required to go to a general elementary school until, after completing the 4^th year of school, they are divided into three groups based on academic ability: at the bottom of the system, the Hauptschule, followed by the Realschule, and on the top of the scholastic pyramid, the Gymnasium, where my study took place this last year. Despite this background knowledge, my first impressions of the German education system were, as many might assume at such a beginning, superficial and misinformed. On Day 1, when the bell rang at 12:55 announcing dismissal, I jumped from my seat in surprised astonishment; this year was undoubtedly going to be the best year ever. Sadly, I was later informed that we are only dismissed on 12:55 three days per week and at 3:20 on the other two. Germans utilize what we know as a block schedule, meaning that they have different classes every single day and have the less important subjects only twice per week. This means, however, that they have the ability to take many more classes than what is possible in the rigorously set American system. For example, several of my classmates have fourteen different subjects in school, ranging from computer science to ethics to English. Whenever I tell a student that I only have seven subjects in my American school, they laugh insultingly assuming that a smaller amount of classes means a smaller workload and thereby that school in America is much easier than its German counterpart. Initially, I thought that that may have been true; however, I began to realize that many Germans would find my American school life a deadly insanity. Most of the Germans, with whom I am acquainted, have a maximum of 2 hours of homework per day, which, as aforementioned, would actually satisfy the U.S. Department of Education suggestion of daily homework amount. Now, that being said, many American students might also only have to deal with a two hour dosage of homework per day; not all American students are pulling all-nighters for AP classes. However, if you do recall I am now speaking of the German Gymnasium, the school system at the top of the ranks. These kids are or should be the AP class-taking, International Baccalaureate, college-crazed scholars precisely like in America. Right? No, because the youth here does not experience the same immense amount of pressure to which American students are subject. Nevertheless, they are just as successful in college and in the world beyond as every single Honors Society student who has or will ever have turned the tassel on that ever-looming graduation day.

On another note, one of the major differences between German and American high school life is that wonderful term that appears on every single college application: extracurricular activities. A majority of American students participate in school activities even after the final bell rings, may it be fighting your school to victory with a well-played ‘Checkmate’ or going the “whole nine yards” in a football game. Most extracurricular activities, especially sports or drama departments, can be exhaustingly demanding. Last year, I was involved simultaneously in track and my school’s musical, both of which had daily three-hour practices. On the other side of the Atlantic, I was also involved in my school’s theater group, but we only met one day per week. Many German teenagers are also quite athletic, but in relationship to their American counterparts, there is no idea of “school spirit.” All athletic activities are conducted off campus in sport clubs. There are no coaches, pom-poms, trophy cases or anything of the sort to be found in a German high school. In fact, many German students who see American high school portrayed in television series such as Glee are fascinated and astounded by our cultural tradition of school colors, pep rallies, prom, and not to mention, the amazingly hilarious and occasionally smelly mascots. That same pressure of performance that American athletes experience is not even relevant inside German schools, because there is such a division between what happens inside and outside of the halls. There is also no fight among athletes to be seen by college scouts, namely, there is no “NCAA” of Germany. The best of the best go straight from playing in their neighborhoods to playing for world-class clubs like FC Bayern Munich, in fact, many German soccer players debut by age seventeen while still participating in their Gymnasium. In conclusion, German students are able to participate in extracurricular activities without feeling the need to fill up a transcript.

Another reason for why there is no athletic fight to be seen by colleges is the same reason for why there is no academic fight: college in Germany is practically free. That being said, many German college students hold protests because their schools have forced them to pay 2000 Euros for books and other expenses, regardless of the fact that this 2000 Euro fee was the only fee required for tuition. You see, Germans like being insured. It has been said, “If Germans had insurance insuring insurance, you would see an entire nation of over 80 million people die from happiness.” And insured education is just another facet of that concept. The Germans live far away from a world of depressing news stories of middle-aged people finally paying of college loans. Most bachelor-seeking Germans exit college employed and with no burden of debt. In America, college prices are growing exponentially every year and I, like my fellow classmates, am doing everything in my power to ensure that I will be an exception to the rule. Hopefully, I will not have to worry about my future kids’ college experiences while still drowning in the bills of my own...

               ... I could go on for eternity about the problems pointed out by the German school system, and maybe one day I will write a book about this topic, but the point is clear, we need to fix the education system in the United States of America. Naturally, the system in Germany is not perfect. There are always complaints about the Hauptschule being used merely as a holding location for illegally immigrated students who can’t speak German (mostly Turks). But I am not here to claim that America needs to adopt the German system or to say that the German system is pristine, I am just here to try to get out the word to the thousands that already think it: there is a problem in our school system. Internationally, our students are constantly falling behind in ranking. Tests show that American students grasp some mathematical and scientific concepts not as well as their international competitors. Meanwhile, many of the students, especially the ones higher ranked in classes, are working an impossible amount of hours daily, only to end up paying back college debt fees until the age of forty. In such a time when we are facing multiple foreign crises, the never-ending problem of gun violence, and a confused economy, it can be very easy to leave education to the side or treat the topic with tongue-and-cheek politics. But now is not the time to stray away from making change. At the heart of a good democracy is a well-informed and educated public. If we can promise to our students a job or at least reduced college costs, we can live with the certainty that our students can have something for which they can work. The millions of dollars for college spending can go elsewhere, and the millions of students can use their motivated minds to drive the economy in a better direction. We need changes not only on the high school and college fronts, but rather also in ourselves. It is time for us to accept that changes need to be made, and only upon making them can we see a brighter and better tomorrow for ourselves and those before us, one in which the right to education can exist without a sticker price that belongs at a Lexus dealership. 

This is the End

So here we are, or, here I am, staring down at the last 30 days of my exchange year, and as my blog tells, I am at a loss of words. Of course I promised several times throughtout the year that I would begin to write more constantly, but because of my daily life and my desire to experience and not just write about experience, I was kept from ever putting any thoughts down onto (e-)paper. In a way, this blog is a definite failure, as it failed to capture the goals I had marked by its creation: namely, to document my year so that others could learn something from it and so that I sometime in the future could look back and reflect. I am very ambivalent about my decision to not write. Part of me is quite regretful, as I feel that because of my lack of writing I will not be able to remember this year as the decades roll by. But at the same time, I feel this wholeness having not written much of anything. Even if I had written blog posts every single week, I still would have never been able to satisfyingly summarize what the year was to me. Many parts of this experience can not be translated to word, they are subtle and, more importantly, heart-felt. They symbolize a deepness of the mark that this life has left on me, many parts of which I wish to keep to myself, which is maybe a subconscious reason for my lack of desire to write. The reawakening literary nerd inside me believes that in a sense, this blog does accurately represent my year, because from the outside it looks pretty shallow, but if you understand the little tidbits of it all, then you can also understand and appreciate the beauty as a whole. I will never be able to take this year and fully present it to someone else, I can tell stories of wild adventures but the listener will never be able to understand how it really was from my perspective. Through that, my year will remain mostly an experience just for myself, something that I will always look back at and smile with some nostalgic grin. What I at least hope that this blog does, if it isn't inform, is inspire. I will not be able to make anyone relive my adventures, but I would love for them to go out and start an adventure themselves. I hope my year stands as proof, that we really are limitless, that man can accomplish anything he wants to if he sets his mind to it. This whole year was never a part of the plan for me. The ball fell to my feet and I just let it roll. I hope this can go out as a reminder that people should bounce on the small chances, because one can never know where they might lead. Throughout weeks of preparation for this year, we always heard the sentence, "Never say no (except to drugs of course)." We were all encouraged to always say yes, to accept every invitation, because we could never know when that one small moment could result in a positive change for the rest of the year. And that is also advice that I would like to leave with you, that we should always jump at the slightest twitch of oppurtunity. Fate is a complicated thing. If we say no once, in the grand scheme of things, it will make no major difference. A passed oppurtunity is an oppurtunity unknown, our decisions will lead us to some destination regardless of the path we took there. But sometimes one path is prettier than another. This year, I chose another path and even though at the end of it all I will be back where I started, this road was more beautiful than any other road that I have stepped across. And that has made all the difference.

So go out. Live life. Love life. Love yourself. And only say no to drugs and and candy that isn't wrapped.

BOULDERDASH

Trying to increase blog post amount by randomly writing about random things. For example, today I went bouldering! (which is unfortunately not the game Boulderdash, that was just for getting attention) Hannah, a good Ami friend of mine, called me up and asked if I wanted to go bouldering with her at a (boulderspot?) place of bouldering, which if you aren't familiar with that, is basically rock-climbing without ropes. Now don't get yourself worried, I am not nearly as crazy as this guy. This sort of bouldering is done over mats and more about the creativity of climbing than the movement from a Point A to a Point B. I haven't been climbing ever since my various expeditions in Colorado so it was good to see that I have absolutely no arm muscle whatsoever. This little snippet of my life is actually really unimportant but through it I am trying to preach a message of spontaneity: go out this week and try something new, whether it be bouldering, Ba-Taoshi, or even...God forbid...anime human chess, no one is going to judge you for just wanting to find new parts of yourself, so go, do, be the crazy mountain guy, be the screaming Japanese person, be the horsey!

In more serious matters, life is continuing on the up and up. I really can't truly explain exactly how happy I am. I don't believe I have ever been as happy in my entire life. It seems like the sun shines every morning (even though the Sun isn't a too large fan of Niedersachsen). I can't stop beaming and smiling and even when things do seem to take a wrong turn, I can't help but remember where I am, why I am here, and what I am doing here. Despite any failures in regard to progress or any absences of friends of family, I just can't stop enjoying my days. I have about 124 days left in this country, and even though it isn't feel, I intend on not using but seizing everyone single one and I am sure that the next four months will bring my all-time happiness to an even higher stance.

Two of the things that are lingering on my mind as of now are especially the CBYX ambassador project and of course college. As a CBYXer, I am required before the end of the year to make a project in which I show that I have interacted with and/or made an impact on the people in my community. My ideas are pretty week at the moment, I have been trying to come up with some sort of "sport day" in which I could teach German children how to play sports that are more popular in America (football, baseball, and to a lesser extent, basketball). But to be honest, the idea bores me and I think I would rather enjoy doing something else. For some odd reason, I have come up with the idea to make a semi-funny video about what it means to be German....so if you are in Deutschland, watch out, unless you don't shy away from the thought of Ryan Cobb running through your streets in lederhosen, and if you are on Youtube, just please don't judge me for this could-be-blowing-the-charts video.

Anyways...just found myself on my computer and was thinking in English so I decided to type away. If any thing, I hope anyone who is reading this is happy will smile about their day. I apologize for the corniness of this blog post, but rest assured, I am a corny Mensch.

For the record, though man is naked, does not mean man is nude of dignity.

Beethoven meets poor model

In this photo we have Mackenzie, obviously enthusiastic about being in Western Germany, along with Harry Potter who needs to learn to look at lense not photographer, and last but not least, Emely, dying of starvation.

True third-wheeling and pole dancing

FUßBALL

As aforementioned, this blog would consist of multiple parts, one of them being culture, as in it is my job to embrace German culture and spread it out to the rest of the dull, not-so-much-bread-eating world. As my Buddy said, "The best way to spend German cheer is singing loud for all to hear."  Und nie singen die Deutscher lauter, als wenn sie ihr Lieblingshobby machen. Deswegen reden wir heute über das größte Teil der deutschen Kultur. Nein, weder Sächsisch hassen, noch Bier trinken sondern... Füßball erleben.

Du hast wahrsheinlich erkannt, dass ich das Wort "erleben" benutzt habe, statt des Wortes "anschauen" oder des fleißigeren Wortes "spielen." Das ist weil, Fußball ist in Wirklichkeit weder ein Sport, noch ein Spiel, sondern ein Leben-beschreibendes Erfahrung. Jeder Deutscher liebt Fußball mit seinem ganzen Herz, die Leidenschaft verlaüft einfach durch das Blut. Auch die Leute, die sagen, dass sie gar kein Fußball mögen, wissen im Herzen das Fußball und ihren Seelen mithilfe eines Fußballschuhschürbandes verbunden werden. Die Leute, die ihre Liebe nie ablehnen, sind großartige Leute und du sollst deine eigene derartige Leute aussuchen und ein Bier bei ihnen mittrinken (du solltest denn wissen, sie sind nicht schwierig zu finden!). Vielleicht fragst du dich, "Ist deutscher Fußball wirklich so gut, wie du, Deutschermeister Cobb, lautest?" Und dazu sage ich, als Lehrer, du hast unbedingt ein Paar Fehler im Satz. Erstens sollst du das Wort "deutscher" auslassen, weil es eigentlich unnotwendig ist. Wenn Fußball nicht schon Deutscher ist, denn ist es eigentlich kein echter Fußball, du sollst deine Dauekarte kaufen, und entweder nach Deutschland fliegen, oder Sky kaufen, weil du offentsichlich einige Bildungslücke gehabt hast. Ja, Ronaldo, Messi und andere Spieler vielerlei sind gut, aber bis du verstehst, warum die Deutscher so verrückt über Fußball sind, wirst du auch verrückt sein, insofern als du immernoch in deiner fußballlosen Welt bestehst.

Also kommt die richtige Frage, "Warum ist Fußball so gut?" Ah, jetzt hast du verstanden, aber könntest du jedoch ein besseres Wort statt gut benutzen. Du bist jetzt einen Schritt weiter in deiner Fahrt zur Deutschekeit gekommen. Ich gratuliere dir, junger Grashüpfer, aber lang ist die Streck noch zu gehen. Lass mich als erstens annehmen, dass du überhaupt keine Ahnung von deutschem Fußball hast. Das ist okay, so war ich in der Vergangheit, die ziemlich lang hinter uns ist. So komm, hol dein Popcorn, und ich verrate dir die wunderschöne Welt namens Bundesliga.

Die deutsche Bundesliga ist natürlich eine Liga, oder soll ich sagen, die Liga, wobei alle die beste Spieler der Welt spielen (das ist in meiner bescheiden und informierten Meinung nach). Die Bundesliga besteht aus eigentlich mehreren kleineren Ligen, aber wir beide haben keine Zeit dafür. So am wichtigsten sind die erste und zweite Bundesligen. Es gibt in beiden 18 Mannschaften, die 34 Spiele im Jahr spielen (das bedeutet, jede Mannschaft spiele gegen jede andere Mannschaft zweimal, einmal als Gast, und einmal heim). Es gibt dazu ein Punktsystem, damit am Ende der Saison wir einen sogenannten Deutschemeister haben können. Es laüft wie meiste Fußballpunktsysteme laufen, aber in der Annahme, dass du total blöd bist, ich ekläre das dir. Für jeden Sieg bekommt eine Mannschaft drei hoffentlich verdienten Punkten. Für jedes "Ohne Entscheidung" Spiel bekommen beide Mannschaften einen Punkt. Und für jede Niederlage bekommt eine Mannschaft null Punkte (für Braunschweig ist diese Sache ziemlich gewöhnlich. Was ist Braunschweig? Oh, hör auf zu fragen). Wenn zwei Mannschaften dieselbe Menga Punkte hätten, denn entscheidet ein Tordifferenz den Gewinner. Am Ende einer Saison beziehungsweise am Ende des 34. Spieltages haben wir unseren Gewinnner, unseren Deutschemeister. So vielleicht fragst du in deinen jetzt geringfügigen ausgebildeten Schuhen, "Wäre das aber langweilig, kein Finalspiel zu haben?" Okay, jetzt muss ich ehrlich sagen, du bist überraschend ein schlauer Mensch. Es ist ja wahr, es gibt eigentlich kein Finalspiel in der Bundesliga. Also scmeißen die Deutsche ihre Langeweile weg, indem man etwas viel Besseres macht. Ich habe schon gesagt, es gibt mehrere Bundesliga. Was würdest du auch denken, wenn ich sägte, es sind unterschiedliche Mannschaften jedes Jahr in den ersten und zweiten Bundesligen. Warum? Aufsteigen und Absteigen. Hier ist wo es einfach herrlich anfängt zu werden. Die Mannschaften, die in den letzten zwei Plätzen am Ende einer Saison gestellt werden, steigen sofort von der ersten Bundesliga ab. Das bedeutet, dass die zwei beste Mannschaften aus der zweiten Bundesliga einfach sofort zur ersten aufsteigen! Jedes Jahr gibt es neue Mannschaften!! Was für ein System! Auch müssen die 16. Mannschaft aus der 1. Bundesliga und die 3. Mannschaft aus der 2. Bundesliga gegen einander in zwei Spielen kämpfen. Im Vergleich zu amerikanischen Sports müssen die Mannschaften so hart versuchen, um nur im Rampenlicht der 1. Bundesliga zu bleiben! Also gibt es vielleicht ein kleines bisschen Leidenschaft im Spiel im Vergleich zu NBA, wo die Charlotte Bobcats immernoch Millionen von Dollars jedes Jahr, trotzdem wie schlecht sie spielen, kriegen! Es gibt auch etwas Champions League, aber wenn ich das erklären würde, brächte es mich fast vor Glück zum Weinen.

Jetzt dass du deutlich verstehst, wie dermaßen besser Bundesliga ist, als alle amerikanische Sportarten, dürfen wir weitergehen. Vor zwei Wochen hatte ich die schöne Möglichkeit, mein erstes Bundesligaspiel zu sehen.Und kein besseres Team gibt es als Werder Bremen! Na ja, ich hatte einen kleinen Einfluss Zuhause. Diseser Einfluss heißt natürlich Henrik. Und er blütet grun und weiß. Ich könnte tatsächlich kein BVB fan, kein HSV fan, kein 96 Fan, und vor allem kein Schalke Fan sein. So jetzt bin ich Bremer und am 21. Dezember fand ich mich in Weser Stadion. Henrik und ich sind nach Bremen mit dem Zug gefahren, und wenn man in einem bestimmten Bereich wohnt, denn darf er seinen Ticket als Fahrkahrte benutzen. So 55 Euro gab es ein Spiel mit guten Sitzen und die Fahrt zum Spiel, gar nicht schlecht! Als wir zum Bahnhof in Bremen gekommen sind, habe ich die Fusballverrücktheit sofort getroffen. Überall waren Werder Bremenische Ausrüstungen. Die Polizei war schon da, und ich meine Hunderte von Polizisten, die völlig mit Waffen, Tazers und Masken ausgerüstet waren. Nachdem wir die Polizisten vermieden haben, sind wir durch Bremen gegangen, wir haben den Weihnachtsmarkt da gesehen und wir waren auch in einem Turm von einer Kirche, von deren der Name mir gar nicht momentan einfällt. Wir haben wahrsheinlich zehn Minuten gebraucht, um den Turm hinaufzugehen. Das Treppenhaus des Turms war auch so eng, dass keine zwei Leute nebeneinander passen konnten. Zum Glück waren es kleine herausgearbeitete Fensterschlitzen da, die groß genug waren, damit man sich dahin stecken konnte, wenn jemand in die gegenüberliegende Richtung ginge. Von Bremen haben wir eigentlich wenig gesehen, wir haben auf die Uhr gewartet, als der Uhrzeiger sehr langsam herum bis zum Anfang des Spiels ging. Kleine lustige Geschichte, ein "Du müsstest einfach dabei sein"Moment: Henrik und ich haben Mittagessen in einem türkischen Pizza-serverienden Restaurant gegessen, das an einer Ecke einer Straße in der Mitte Bremen war. Weil das Restaurant an einer Ecke war, war es natürlich klein, und obwohl wir gleich im Weser Stadion sein würden, haben wir entschieden: Wir müssen auf die Toilette gehen. Henrik ist erst gegangen, und ist in unter zehn Sekunden lachend zurückgekommen. Ich habe natürlich gefragt, "Ja, was soll das denn sein???" Und er hat reagiert, "Guck mal für dich selbst!" Also ging ich ins Badezimmer, um zu sehen worum es geht. Eine Mitarbeiterin hat mir in die richtige Richtung gelenkt, und in einem kleinen Zimmer, wo Kisten überalles standen. Ich habe eine Tür in dem Zimmer gesehen, vor dem mehrere Kisten standen. Ich dachte, "Muss ich alle die Kisten versitzen??" Und dann habe ich gesehen...eine kleine Kleinkindtoilette stand in der Ecke. Ich dachte, "Ja, warum nicht." Und mehr von dieser Geschichte kannst du mich persönlich fragen. Es war eine großartige Geschichte...

Und dann ging´s ab. Wir sind zum Stadion gegangen, und ein Paar hundert Meter könnte ich etwas riechen, was war´s? Bier. Nachdem wir sehr drastisches Sicherheitsprotokoll bekamen, waren wir endlich im Weser Stadion, das Zuhause des SV Werder Bremen. Wir haben gute Tickete gekauft, wir waren in der fünften Reihe und konnten das Spielfeld eindeutlich sehen. Es war ein geiles Gefühl, als die Spiel herausgekommen sind. Der Ansager würde den Vornamen des Spielers sagen, und denn würde die ganze Menschenmenge den Nachnamen schreien. "Und jetzt zum Spielfeld kommt Raphael..." "WOLF." "Eljero..." "ELIA." Werder Bremen hat gegen Bayer Leverkusen gespielt, die zurzeit (und aktuell) zwei beste Mannschaft der Bundesliga. Werder Bremen hat eigentlich gut gespielt, normalerweise ist es so, dass Werder Bremen gut nach vorne spielen aber, dass sie nicht immer so gut vertidigen können. Aber während des Spiels haben sie alle den Ball richtig gut gehalten und sie hatten auch ein Paar Torchance. Nach der Halbzeit stand es 0-0. Aber endlich kam ein Tor in der 76. Minute....FÜR BREMEN. AHHHHHHHHH. WAS FÜR EIN GEFÜHL WAR DAS. Das...sorry, I am getting tired of German and have been trying to write this thing for weeks now, but never found the time to do so. But really, it was really cool. The entire stadium just erupted and wow...it was awesome. But the point of talking about all of this was really to share what happened ont he way back from the game. The train was packed with myriad drunk Bremen fans, and unfortunately, one drunk Leverkusen fan. This man, about fifty years old with his wife, just started talking to a thirtyish year-old Bremen fan and his wife/girl. The problem is that they just kept talking...and talking....and talking...they never stopped. I knew at the rate that they were going that if they didn't stop then something was bound to happened...and sure enough, the two men started beating on each other, I mean really beating on each other right in the middle of the train. A group of guys got them pulled away, but they just kept talking and talking. And so another scruff broke out and they almost fell and me and my host brother. They were throwing beer on each other, the Bremen fan started yelling at the fans who held him back, asking if they were "real Bremers," people started calling the cops, parents were hiding kids, until eventually they all got off the train and peace was back.

I know we probably have our own hooliganism in America, but I don't think it exceeds the craziness here. I can imagine that that would happen during a big rival game in America, but there isn't really much of a rivalry between these two teams. The largest rivalry in the Bundesliga, the one between Schalke 04 and Borussia Dortmund, is something completely different from the rivalries in America. The two opposing fan bases aren't even allowed to come into contact with the other. For Schalke games in Dortmund, the Deutsche Bahn allocates six trains just for the Schalke fans, with police dictating who is allowed on and who not, because all hell would break loose if both fan bases were on the same train. In the Bahn are riot policeman, ones that actually look similar to the ones now in service in the Ukraine protests. Dangerous fires have started in stadiums, people have been killed...the stories go on and on. The point here is that although Bundesliga is really fantastic (and I mean really really fantastic) one of the biggest drawbacks of football here is that it really can get ridiculously dangerous. Bundesliga would definitely be an interesting point for the value of sport in our culture. And I hope this article doesn't give anyone any bad feelings about Germany or its sport. It can be dangerous, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't go to games here. And it certainly doesn't mean that I won't go to more. In fact, Schalke is playing against Werder Bremen in April, and my (American) family are going to see it! Extremely excited!

Weird article, 'til next time!

Frohe Weihnachten!

Ah, so another Monat gone, and plenty of experiences to share. I am just going to stop apologizing for failing to write on this thing. I am sort of dissapointed in myself, because I was going to use this blog as one of the key ways with which I would remember this year. I know I will forget so much (vor allem being the language) einigermaßen schnell, but I can't bring myself to actually sit down and spend time writing. Every second is precious, and I could spend every second trying to write some poetry down about the preceding second, but as you see, the paradox would make it a beautfiul poetry of writing poetry. There was a man who once said along the lines of, "Doing something is easy, experience is easy, but saying something about it, now that's something," and to be honest, I think that's a load of Mist (German Mist, not English mist). I am going to try to just experience my time here, and when I have a Tagebuchschreibensdrang, then ja, mach mal.

So Merry Christmas! Or as the Germans say, Frohe Weihnachten! I must say, Christmas in Germany was a pretty beatitful time, and it has a lot of neat features that my American Christmas doesn't have.

Where do we start?

Ah, yes, the Christmas markets.

If you ever happened to take a vacation nach Deutschland, I would either do it at the end of September (so you could richtig enjoy Oktoberfest in München) or during December, because during December every relatively large city hosts wonderful Weihnachtsmärkte that are just wünderschön.

"What exactly is a Christmas market, Mr. German?"

Oh, wise question, fellow inquisitive Amerikaner, a Christmas market is a large gathering of people eating delicious food, buying cute German Kleinigkeiten (roughly translated to trinket), and slowly becoming intoxicated by the wondrous joy sogenannt, Glühwein. Glühwein is a mulled wine served at 72 or 73 degrees Celcius (you do the math) usually flavored with cinammon, melted sugar, and not to forget, rum or some similar sort of liqour. I have always wondered how Germans survive the Winter here, and now I am certain that the solution lies in the cup. In December, it can drop to freezing temperatures here (in some places it is seldom above 0 degrees C) but if you are clutching on to a finger burning cup of alcohol, the coldness becomes ultimately egal ("it does not matter"). My first time Glüweining was with the Manatee in Osnabrück, and as much as I do not like talking about alcohol on this page, I must say, it tastes deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelicious. There is a special kind of Glühwein that I must recommend call Feuerzangebowle, which takes the taste buds to new levels and there is even a German Christmas film with the same title where an old man decides to go back to high school (even if you do not understand it, which I personally did not its a pretty darn good laugh, among other typical German Christmas films and episdodes include Dinner for One, which I demand you watch this instant). Typical stomach fillers (tried to find a phrase meaning both food and drink) at the Christmas markets include piping-hot crepes with Nutella inside, roasted chestnus, burnt almonds (the best thing on Earth by far), and of course, beer. Christmas markets run throughout the entire month of Dezember, and have good live music and is just generally a wonderful way to spend time with friends during the holiday season.

Now that you, my fellow German in the making, understand the core of einer richtigen deutschen Weihnachten, I can now move to explaining more of the cultural traditions of the most wonderful time of the year. I believe the opinon can be change based on personal belief or experience, but I consider the first day of December, the first day of Christmas, as in, the ABCs 25 Days of Christmas starts showing all the classics, Christmas songs are played (too) frequently on the radio, the Christmas trees and decorations go up, and "Merry Christmas" starts to become a usable greeting and farewell. In Germany, it is similar but is distinct in: the Tannenbaum is never put up before the 23rd of Dezember, "Frohe Weihnachten" is only an acceptable greeting on the 25th and 26th (thereby, called the 1st and 2nd days of Christmas), no houses have lights put up, and above all, the only Christmas song played on the radio is Wham's "Last Christmas." Now I have to take a step off from the main path (as my normal neurotic writing style operates) and clarify: The German people are OBSESSED with that overplayed, overremade song. I mean, they play it at least 18 teams a day, everyone knows the words by heart (impressive considering, you know, they are German). I know we listen to this song an exordinate amount of times, too, but this is one piece of American culture that Germany took and not only ran away with, sondern flew off the to the moon. Jetzt weiter geht's. One very nice German tradition that I have to mention is Plätzchen backen. Every single German household, without question, spends on evening in Dezember rolling out dough and making star cutout cookies. Not a very large thing, but a small event that I really enjoyed with my host family. In my family, and most American families that I am aware of where Santa visits, the presents are opened on the 25th of December, which gives the kids the apprehension and the excitement of waking up early to see what goodies lie under the Baum. In Germay, I would say that most families do all of the gift unwrapping on the evening of the 24th (so called, "Heiligeabend" = "Holy Evening" also the name for Christmas Eve). In our family, Henrik and I were told to wait upstairs while the gifts were being placed under the tree, after which a bell was rung, and it had began. It really was a beautiful moment. I must say, in the past month, it seems as if my relationship with my host family has gotten exponentially better, and I couldn't wait for Christmas, because I knew it would be a wonderful experience to share with them. The four of us just stood together, opening up presents at our own paces and giving the proper hugs following. I gave Henrik a Chicago Bulls Derrick Rose jersey, a charging dock for Playstation 4 controllers (which he got despite the worldwide sellout, and because my host mother told me that he would get one, I bet him 5 Euro that he would get one, he took it on, and now he has a PS4 and I have 5 Euro, actually 1 Euro because we have been making a series of continuous bets including watching all the Rambo films and taking guesses on how many people John would kill by the end of the movie, which is quite interesting going from Rambo First Blood, where he theroetically kills no one, to John Rambo, the fourth, in which he kills in excess of 250, but thats a story in itself), and Ocean's 11, 12, and 13. I gave Mary, my host mother, the first Diary of a Wimpy kid book and a free voucher to a piano concert in my room. And to Hermann, my host father, I gave an African carved face thing, John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, a calender, and travel book over America. I must say, all of my gifts completely overwhelmed me and made me oh so happy, including but not limited to: Lederhose, that's right Lederhose, a Mario Götze's Deutsche Nationalmannschaft jersey, an oppurtunity to play the organ in a church of a neighboring city, a beautiful factbook (did you know that the capital of South Korea, "Seoul" means "capital city" in Korean or that Bugs Bunny's orignal name was "Happy Rabbit"), and for someodd reason a large photograph of me and a wild fat sea animal that is related to the elephant.

After the gift opening, we had a wonderful German typical-for-my-host-family meal of Hawaiian toast, which is sliced bread with ham, a slice of pineapple, melted cheese, and a cherry. Then we spent the rest of the night having fun with our gifts and just enjoying ourselves, not to mention a good four of PS4 (which is every bit as beautiful as I imagined it to be). On Christmas Day, Henrik and I spent the entire day with the PS4, then we skyped my family back home, and I forced my family to watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, which they found to be hilarious. On the second day of Christmas I got up extremely late and we went to a nice restaurant where we feasted on duck and then spent the rest of the day with family at the house and not to mention once again, even more PS4.

So was my Christmas, no snow, no gimmicks, just a simple and quick two days. Do I prefer my Christmas to the Germans'? Yeah, probably, and part of that is because I really do miss my family and our traditions back at home. But soon I will be back with them, and as much as I do miss them, the time goes way too quickly here and I already see myself on the flight back. So I just got to keep going, and make the best of my time.

Frohe Weihnachten zu allen, und zu allen, eine Gute Nacht!

An der Nordseeküste!

Hello people! Let's all give me a round of applause for my over-proactiveness in creating blog posts...but really, I am so sorry. I have no idea where the time has went. I have now about seven posts that I have never finished, time is just slipping away so fast. I have been in Germany for almost a third of a year now (the thought almost brings me to hyperventilation) and I have only successfully written perhaps one measley blog post. I am really sorry for failing to update, and I won't make any promises to write more, I am just gonna write more.

Anyways, this weekend I got the wonderful oppurtunity to go on school choir trip to Norderney, a tincy wincy little island off the north coast of Germany.

I and about 40 other students, ranging from 9 to 17 years old, participated in this trip spending the weekend singing and struggling against the (as Germans say) Arsch-kalt weather that plagues the tiny island (and most of Northern Deutschland) year-round. On Friday morning, all 40 of us and a few teachers took off by bus towards the Norddeich, about a 3-hour trip. There were only 6 people there from my grade; therefore, we made the joke the entire time that we were only there so we could babysit the little ones. Nevertheless, we had a wonderful time enjoying the freedom that came with our age and also getting to dive a tad back into our youth as the kids pulled us along into their shenanigans. 

We spent most of the bus ride talking about everything and nothing, and I forced my German friends to read some English aloud, which, of course, was absolutely hysterical.

Eventually we got to the Norddeich, where we would be taking a ferry across the North Sea to some good ole' sunny beach relaxation.....ha, not a chance. On the boat, because of the wind and the ridiculous coldness of the air, I wore an undershirt, under a shirt, under a sweatshirt, under a coat, with a scarf, gloves, and a cap and hood, and was still so cold that I was forced to cuddle with my classmates. And also for the first time in my life, I saw WILD SEA LIONS, which was pretty darn cool, they were doing absolutely nothing, just chillin' out (chilling, ha, cold, ha), but even when a sea lion does nothing its still quite wonderful (you might be able to see that I like sea lions). I will be honest to say that I never got the oppurtunity to ride one, but I promise, before I leave this realm, I will have ridden a wild sea lion, oh yes I will. 

After a forty minute ride, we were finally on Norderney, and got to the Jugendherberge. That means, "youth hostel," which is a very basic hotel-type vacational sleep-place. I am not sure if these sorts of hotels are popular in America, but I would say they are a very popular and cheaper alternative to hotels in Germany. It was nothing fancy, and when I say nothing fancy, I mean that our bedroom came with no towels, handtowels, shampoo, body or hand soap (yes I did have to go three days without the oppurtunity to wash my hands in my bathroom, but that doesn't mean I didn't wash my hands at all, I just washed them with soap...less often than someone should). But to be honest, I liked how simple it was. There was no expectance of formalness, you could be as loud as you want in the hallways and no one would complain. It was an attitude of, "Okay, here is your room key, have fun, we'll leave some breakfast out for you, and I will see you when you give me the back, bye!" which, considering my occasional aversion to human interaction in a second language, I really enjoyed.

 On Friday night, after a pretty long hour-and-a-half of singing English Christmas songs (why English? The depth of English in this coutry is an interesting and troubling topic that I will dive into sometime in the near future), the six of us crazy kids went down to the beach in what was probably 30 degree weather. Despite the desire to amputate both legs, I had a really, really wonderful time there. We just frolicked around in the blissful silence of the crashing waves, spinning around on the beach, running away from the incoming tide, and singing horrible German oldies. After that, we all walked hand in hand through the city, forcing the island inhabitors, who are normally customed to a quiet life, to listen to our loud and seemingly obnoxious serenade. I kept wondering the entire weekend, "Why would anyone want to live on such a small island?" It is forty minutes from the mainland, is not especially beautiful, and experiences some really cold (understatement) weather. But that night held all of the answers. Walking the through the streets at night, you could almost hear the silence, and by that I am trying to describe that feeling when it is so quiet, that you feel like any sudden sound my disturb the natural order of things. It was so, but at the same time, no matter where you were on the island you could always hear the faint and gentle sound of water rushing up on shore and then back down again. That night, I slept like a baby.

On Saturday, we decided that we were going to eat breakfast on the beach, so we got up pretty early for a Saturday, packed our German breakfasts (which consists of 80% bread and 20% more bread) and made our way Artic-bound. I sortof...forgot my jacket. Here is a picture of the struggle.

It was quite difficult to enjoy any time here...so I just picked up a few shells, ate my bread, and made a mad dash for heat (not to mention that I did put a hat over my face, so the others had to comically lead me back to the hostel)

Nevertheless, it was still pretty darn beautiful. After another round of singing we went back out to the city, where I experienced my first German Subway, ate chocolate the size of my head, some cool piggy banks (with names on the piggy banks representing the purpose of the piggy bank z.B. Hochzeit, oder Urlaub)

found Forest Gump (the book) in German (cool to note here: I am not sure if we have this in America, but in some of the smaller villages in Germany they have these "self-serve" libraries, which are basically just bookshelves on the side of the road. The idea is, you take a book, read it, and then give it back or if you want to keep it, give another book you cherish. Hopefully, I will one day find the oppurtunity to return to Norderney and leave this beautiful book for someone else to discover). Also, I rode a sea lion, a sea lion named "Fernando," yeah, that's right, what did you do today?

Then we were forced back into another two hours of singing (to be honest the singing wasn't that bad, because the Choir conductor is absolutely wonderful, and there is nothing better than hearing a bunch of ten-year-old's singing Yesus Krist instead of Jesus Christ). We were all too excited afterwards to go through another round through the city, so instead we all just hung out and let the kids exhaust us death. I really cannot adequately describe the cuteness of the little girls coming up to me and asking me the most random questions, they kept stealing my shoes, and playing tricks on me. Perhaps German kids are cuter than American kids, or perhaps are kids cute everywhere. I wish I had known how cute and small I was when I was 10, if I had, I would have used the fact much more to my advantage.

On Sunday morning after breakfast and noch mehr singen, we went to a local church to perform during a mass. It was a really beautiful Church, built in 1867 and complete with a pulpit and wooden model ships hanging from the ceiling. The mass was in German, so I understood about 20%, but still, it really was a wonderful experience. 

After the mass, I helped the teacher-chaperones schlepp (ooh learning Yiddish too!) the kids to the beach one last time and also so they could eat waffles to their hearts' desires. 

They be too school for cool.

This sixteen-year-old, contrary to her belief, is in fact also a cute ten-year-old.

Because Koalas make everything better.

Contrary to popular belief, we were not in Holland.

So just like that, our short little vacation was to an end. I slept on the bus ride home and was welcomed back into the arms of my host family, who kept making jokes about how wild and crazy the party that the had in my absence was. And now, I have Thanksgiving next week, and more adventures soon to begin!