You know how sometimes you wake up in the morning to the incessant beeping alarm of a cell phone that´s been roaming for three months, shield your eyes from the gloomy gray strands of light creeping through the window blinds, and attempt to pull the all-too-small hotel comforter over your face only to remember that you are are in Germany... and it´s all because of Bangladesh?
I do.
Today was the first day of my Orientation Seminar as a German Chancellor Fellow, and although I should have been excited, my early morning self really would have preferred an extra hour (or twelve) of sleep. I slumped out of bed, remembered begrudgingly that, thanks to Germany´s prohibition on Sunday shopping, I had absolutely nothing for breakfast (no kidding, yesterday I ate müsli with water, and I really never want to do that again), and raced to meet my colleagues at the hotel reception. We boarded the U-Bahn and made our way to the Hotel Bristol in Bonn for a day of meetings and to give our long-awaited project presentations auf Deutsch.
The plans for the day pretty much focused on our colleagues from the Climate Protection Fellowship, because this is the first year of their program. The AvH (Alexander von Humboldt Stiftung) had invited various Climate Change experts to today´s meeting, and as a result a good portion of the day was spent hearing about solar panel production, silicon, renewable energy, and various other subjects that don´t exactly have a bearing on historic Jewish buildings in Germany, but which I found honestly interesting... if incredibly depressing. Basically it turns out that WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!
My reflections on the talk: Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems we have spent the last 150 years skipping blissfully towards the edge of the cliff of catastrophe. And now, with rocks crumbling beneath our feet, the gaping mouth of the abyss preparing to swallow up civilization in one smoggy slurp, we are desperately screaming UNCLE! And here he is, Uncle Alex(ander von Humboldt) to the rescue, in the form of a very well planned Symposium.
Actually I really did find it fascinating, if terrifying. But for me, the issues were best laid out by the guest speaker, Foreign Minister of Bangladesh. She explained to us that Bangladesh is the densest populated country on earth and among the most desperately threatened countries when it comes to climate change - crowded, low lying, marshy, impoverished, coastal, a recipe for disaster. The people of Bangladesh are really experiencing horrible things, which are only going to get worse, despite having played a quite minimal role in the industrialization, and thus carbon emission, currently plaguing the world. I don´t really know that much about Bangladesh, and I have a feeling that this a bit of a problem for a lot of Americans - relating to foreign countries is not exactly an area of national strength. But there is one thing I know for sure about Bangladesh. Bangladesh is the reason I am in Germany.
Simple.
But maybe it is best to start at the beginning. Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Maryland, spring 2005. I am a freshman history major. I have pretty much been a history major since I was seven, and I read Little House in the Big Woods for the first time and decided that I wanted to be a pioneer when I grew up. Once I found out that the pioneer days were over, it was pretty much clear that I was a bit more interested in looking backwards than forwards. Nevertheless, in college I had to take some science courses, so I selected a science course that most resembled a non-science course - The World of Language. It was sure to be a winner. For those of you who are getting snarky right about now, yes linguistics counted as a science credit, it is part of the cognitive science department.
Anyway, it turned out that half of the class time was devoted to using linguistic skills to illicit information about a language. We were divided into groups. Each group had one native speaker of a language that no one else in the group spoke. The groups met for a few hours every week in the attic of Maryland Hall, where we would ask our native speaker questions like: How do you say "I am." How do you say "I was." And based on this type of information we would draw conclusions about how the language functioned and how it was constructed.
My language was Bengali, the language of Bangladesh.
To make a long story a little bit longer, I found out that I loved linguistics. It was thought provoking. It forced me to think on a different level and in a different way. I just wanted to think about languages all of the time. At the end of the semester I decided that I wanted to take my new understanding of languages for a spin, and try to learn a new language (my only previous flirtation with languages being a mostly unsuccessful attempt at high school Spanish). I picked German. German seemed like a logical choice. Lots of history, same alphabet. Once I started learning German, I suddenly found myself learning Yiddish. And once I began learning Yiddish, it made sense to learn about Jewish history. And then it made sense to think about German, Yiddish and Jewish History all together, and then suddenly, here I am, all because of Bangladesh.
That is a very self-interested way of saying, I suppose, that I care a lot about Bangladesh, and maybe you should too. It´s also a way of acknowledging that self interest is completely okay, normal, and probably in a lot of cases a good thing. It´s definitely my motivating factor behind giving a damn about global warming. Death by climate change sounds incredibly unpleasant and unfortunate, and above all, totally unnecessary. So why should I experience it, or for that matter, anyone else in the world?
One hundred fifty years ago, the world was just getting really into the idea that burning stuff from inside the ground could make you do stuff faster and more efficiently. Laura Ingalls Wilder and the pioneers were heading West, Germany was being unified into a modern nation state (for the first time), and my host institution, Die Neue Synagoge, was the largest active synagogue in Germany. Boy have times changed.
What is my point? Well, for every generation the future and the past feel too far away to actually be reckoned with. And in this sense historians (like me) and scientists concerned with climate change actually face similar professional issues. We both want to get the world to engage with things that it does not know how to relate to, because these things are either too long gone or just not here yet. The study of the past and the study of the future are united in their struggle with human nature to overcome our own natural self-interest in the time, places and people with whom we are closest, or perhaps to teach us how to channel this self-interest into mutual interest. How to do this, well, this is only day 1. I have a year to figure it out.
In the meantime, I guess it´s best to figure out where my mutual interests lie- in the past and the future, in technological advancement and a healthy planet, in German history and Jewish history, in other words, in me- my life- and of course, in Bangladesh.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
240 hours later
Classes are over. For the last two months of my life I have spent an unimaginably large quantity of time on the second floor of the Institut für Sprachvermittlung, IFS language school in Bonn, Germany. Today it feels like a lifetime has passed since those first days of school back in July when I could barely get through a lesson without feeling totally overwhelmed, shedding wasted tears over really important things, like using the wrong preposition or declining an adjective incorrectly (blasphemy, I know).
I can even be a big enough person today to admit that after the first week or so of classes I went to my teachers after class and admitted to them that I was well aware that I was the weakest student in the class, and that I understood if it was best for everyone if I joined a different class. To this they basically told me not to worry so much, that I wasn´t the worst student in the class, that I was making good progress, and that my mistakes showed that my brain was actually getting ready to leap the next level of language ability. Phew!
Well, at least I think that is what they said. Truth be told, I didn´t totally understand what they said. But I went back to class the next day, and I have been going ever since.
As for that giant leap in my German language ability, it´s hard to say if it ever happened. It´s hard to say how or if anyone would ever even know that her own brain had just morphed into something more capable, more Deutsch fähig (German capable!) But, either way, here are some of my important German language moments in the last few weeks:
1. Pizza. When one of the Americans found an add for delivery pizza "American style", of course we had to give it a try. Sure it´s weird that the "New York" pizza had tuna fish, and the "Boston" had Hollandaise sauce. It is equally illogical that the "Texas" pizza had fried potatoes and onions and that all the pizzas were made with gouda cheese. Regardless of these minor details, I was able to successfully order pizza, and request a substitution for corn topping...
2. Internet. After being sold the wrong kind of internet monthly card by the very nice, but clearly incompetent sales lady in the O2 store in the small city of Andernach, I was able to explain and correct my internet woes successfully over the phone. In fact I have gotten so good at dealing with German sales people, that sometimes I buy stuff for other people too.
3. Drunks on the U-bahn. At 9:00 this morning, in the subway, I was involuntarily involved in a conversation with a woman who was clearly taking advantage of the lack of open bottle laws in Germany. I successfully explained to her that I am not from Brazil, but she didn´t seem convinced. Still, understanding the drunk rambling of Germans seems like an accomplishment of a sort.
And of course there have been successful moments in school - realizing I could understand Thomas Mann or Heinrich Heine in the original. Watching movies in German. Attending a Patrick Süskind play and having a clue what was going on. Learning about the life of Martin Luther through a totally propagandist film, and being able to explain in German why I was pretty sure it was propaganda. Having discussions about school reform. Debating genetic engineering. Comparing social welfare systems. Explaining my project. I can´t honestly do some of this stuff in English.
It´s strange to think that the first part of my German experience is over, and yet my year in Berlin and my project are still completely ahead of me. The leaves are starting to change colors, the sky is already getting dark around 8, the kids in Rheinland Westfalen head back to school on Monday, and I head to my my orientation seminar, day 1. What awaits me there I can only begin to imagine, but I am sure I have only scratched the surface of my German experience.
Well there you have it, I put my two cents in, my five kopecks, as the Russians would say, I gave my mustard to it, as the Germans would say.
I can even be a big enough person today to admit that after the first week or so of classes I went to my teachers after class and admitted to them that I was well aware that I was the weakest student in the class, and that I understood if it was best for everyone if I joined a different class. To this they basically told me not to worry so much, that I wasn´t the worst student in the class, that I was making good progress, and that my mistakes showed that my brain was actually getting ready to leap the next level of language ability. Phew!
Well, at least I think that is what they said. Truth be told, I didn´t totally understand what they said. But I went back to class the next day, and I have been going ever since.
As for that giant leap in my German language ability, it´s hard to say if it ever happened. It´s hard to say how or if anyone would ever even know that her own brain had just morphed into something more capable, more Deutsch fähig (German capable!) But, either way, here are some of my important German language moments in the last few weeks:
1. Pizza. When one of the Americans found an add for delivery pizza "American style", of course we had to give it a try. Sure it´s weird that the "New York" pizza had tuna fish, and the "Boston" had Hollandaise sauce. It is equally illogical that the "Texas" pizza had fried potatoes and onions and that all the pizzas were made with gouda cheese. Regardless of these minor details, I was able to successfully order pizza, and request a substitution for corn topping...
2. Internet. After being sold the wrong kind of internet monthly card by the very nice, but clearly incompetent sales lady in the O2 store in the small city of Andernach, I was able to explain and correct my internet woes successfully over the phone. In fact I have gotten so good at dealing with German sales people, that sometimes I buy stuff for other people too.
3. Drunks on the U-bahn. At 9:00 this morning, in the subway, I was involuntarily involved in a conversation with a woman who was clearly taking advantage of the lack of open bottle laws in Germany. I successfully explained to her that I am not from Brazil, but she didn´t seem convinced. Still, understanding the drunk rambling of Germans seems like an accomplishment of a sort.
And of course there have been successful moments in school - realizing I could understand Thomas Mann or Heinrich Heine in the original. Watching movies in German. Attending a Patrick Süskind play and having a clue what was going on. Learning about the life of Martin Luther through a totally propagandist film, and being able to explain in German why I was pretty sure it was propaganda. Having discussions about school reform. Debating genetic engineering. Comparing social welfare systems. Explaining my project. I can´t honestly do some of this stuff in English.
It´s strange to think that the first part of my German experience is over, and yet my year in Berlin and my project are still completely ahead of me. The leaves are starting to change colors, the sky is already getting dark around 8, the kids in Rheinland Westfalen head back to school on Monday, and I head to my my orientation seminar, day 1. What awaits me there I can only begin to imagine, but I am sure I have only scratched the surface of my German experience.
Well there you have it, I put my two cents in, my five kopecks, as the Russians would say, I gave my mustard to it, as the Germans would say.
Monday, August 16, 2010
"Can I ask you a very private question?"
I look across the table at the kind-faced Chinese German Chancellor Fellow sitting across from me, and obviously my heart starts to race a bit.
"Um, sure", I tell him, "what do you want to know?"
"Are they real?"
"Are what real?"
My hair. He was asking about my hair! Oh thank god, there is actually nothing at all private about this very cautiously asked question. Yes, my hair is real, I told him. It is curly. It grows like this naturally. Gelockene Haare (in German) is not exactly common in China, or in Germany for that matter.
I guess it should not have come as much of a surprise to me that the question over the nature of my hair was considered a private one. My new Chinese friends, thought extremely nice and polite, are a bit harder to get to know than the Russian BUKAs. We aren´t in class together, and most come across a bit more reserved and formal, perhaps. But after the enthusiastic responses from us Americans and the Russians to the Chinese cooking at International Essen Fest, the Chinese BUKAs decided to invite us all to a Chinese dinner tonight in honor of:
Chinese Valentine´s Day.
I am ashamed to say that prior to today I was not aware that Chinese Valentine´s Day existed. Before heading to dinner, I decided to do a little bit of research (meh, Wikipedia). Well, there are a number of variations on the story of the Qixi festival (aka Chinese Valentine´s Day) which translates to The Night of Sevens (it sounds sort of like a Horror Film to me), since it falls on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month when the stars Altair and Vega are high in the sky and easily visible. Here is one version (with some improvements!):
There was once a cowherd named Niulang. He lived with his elder brother and sister-in-law. Disliked and abused by his sister-in-law, Niulang was forced to leave home, with only a pet cow for company.
The cow, however, was a former god who had violated imperial rules and was sent to earth in bovine form (obviously). One day the cow led Niulang to a lake where fairies took a bath on earth. Among them was Zhinu, the most beautiful fairy and a skilled seamstress (more like a day job).
The two fell in love instantly and were soon married. They had a son and daughter and were very happy.
But, in the eyes of the Jade Emperor, the Supreme Deity in Taoism, marriage between a mortal and fairy is strictly forbidden (all good things are). He sent the empress to fetch Zhinu.
Niulang grew desperate when he discovered Zhinu had been taken back to heaven. Driven by Niulang's misery, the cow told him to turn its hide into a pair of shoes after it died (the cow apparently died soon after...).
The magic shoes took Niulang, who carried his two children in baskets strung from a shoulder pole (use your imagination), on a chase after the empress (all of the babysitters were apparently busy celebrating Chinese Valentine´s Day).
The pursuit enraged the empress. She took her hairpin and slashed it across the sky, which created the Milky Way (yummm), separating husband from wife.
But all was not lost (it almost never is) as magpies, moved by the love and devotion of Niulang and Zhinu, formed a bridge across the Milky Way to reunite the family.
Even the Jade Emperor was touched (but only a little bit), and allows Niulang and Zhinu to meet once a year on the seventh night of the seventh month.
The End.
For our celebration, the Chinese BUKAs prepared some delicious typical Chinese dishes, and the rest of us provided beverages and dessert. I brought a watermelon, and only realized later, in my research, how appropriate this was.
As it turns out, it is traditional for young girls (me, for example) to carve melons for the Qixi festival to demonstrate skills in the domestic arts and then make wishes for a good husband. If I had known that I would have put a little more thought into my carving. So much for my domestic skills. One of the girls from the Chinese group also offered me this bit of advice: men from the Shanghai region make better husbands than those from the Peking region, as they are more skilled cooks and better with children... I suppose I will keep that in mind.
Logistically speaking, at the moment I am a bit too preoccupied with trying to learn German and sort out my project to devote the proper attention that I imagine would be necessary to wish for a husband from Shanghai. But, I guess I could add it to the five year plan.
Anyways, it seems that Chinese Valentine´s Day is also of importance to new brides. As it so happens one of my best friends was married just this weekend in a land far far away, called New Jersey. Since I wasn´t able to be there with her, I figured I would offer her this piece of Chinese Valentine´s Day advice: Make an offering of flowers, tea, and fruit. Then take some face powder and put half of it on the roof and distribute the other half to the young ladies of the house. According to Chinese tradition, you will forever share in Zhinu´s beauty.
"Um, sure", I tell him, "what do you want to know?"
"Are they real?"
"Are what real?"
My hair. He was asking about my hair! Oh thank god, there is actually nothing at all private about this very cautiously asked question. Yes, my hair is real, I told him. It is curly. It grows like this naturally. Gelockene Haare (in German) is not exactly common in China, or in Germany for that matter.
I guess it should not have come as much of a surprise to me that the question over the nature of my hair was considered a private one. My new Chinese friends, thought extremely nice and polite, are a bit harder to get to know than the Russian BUKAs. We aren´t in class together, and most come across a bit more reserved and formal, perhaps. But after the enthusiastic responses from us Americans and the Russians to the Chinese cooking at International Essen Fest, the Chinese BUKAs decided to invite us all to a Chinese dinner tonight in honor of:
Chinese Valentine´s Day.
I am ashamed to say that prior to today I was not aware that Chinese Valentine´s Day existed. Before heading to dinner, I decided to do a little bit of research (meh, Wikipedia). Well, there are a number of variations on the story of the Qixi festival (aka Chinese Valentine´s Day) which translates to The Night of Sevens (it sounds sort of like a Horror Film to me), since it falls on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month when the stars Altair and Vega are high in the sky and easily visible. Here is one version (with some improvements!):
There was once a cowherd named Niulang. He lived with his elder brother and sister-in-law. Disliked and abused by his sister-in-law, Niulang was forced to leave home, with only a pet cow for company.
The cow, however, was a former god who had violated imperial rules and was sent to earth in bovine form (obviously). One day the cow led Niulang to a lake where fairies took a bath on earth. Among them was Zhinu, the most beautiful fairy and a skilled seamstress (more like a day job).
The two fell in love instantly and were soon married. They had a son and daughter and were very happy.
But, in the eyes of the Jade Emperor, the Supreme Deity in Taoism, marriage between a mortal and fairy is strictly forbidden (all good things are). He sent the empress to fetch Zhinu.
Niulang grew desperate when he discovered Zhinu had been taken back to heaven. Driven by Niulang's misery, the cow told him to turn its hide into a pair of shoes after it died (the cow apparently died soon after...).
The magic shoes took Niulang, who carried his two children in baskets strung from a shoulder pole (use your imagination), on a chase after the empress (all of the babysitters were apparently busy celebrating Chinese Valentine´s Day).
The pursuit enraged the empress. She took her hairpin and slashed it across the sky, which created the Milky Way (yummm), separating husband from wife.
But all was not lost (it almost never is) as magpies, moved by the love and devotion of Niulang and Zhinu, formed a bridge across the Milky Way to reunite the family.
Even the Jade Emperor was touched (but only a little bit), and allows Niulang and Zhinu to meet once a year on the seventh night of the seventh month.
The End.
For our celebration, the Chinese BUKAs prepared some delicious typical Chinese dishes, and the rest of us provided beverages and dessert. I brought a watermelon, and only realized later, in my research, how appropriate this was.
As it turns out, it is traditional for young girls (me, for example) to carve melons for the Qixi festival to demonstrate skills in the domestic arts and then make wishes for a good husband. If I had known that I would have put a little more thought into my carving. So much for my domestic skills. One of the girls from the Chinese group also offered me this bit of advice: men from the Shanghai region make better husbands than those from the Peking region, as they are more skilled cooks and better with children... I suppose I will keep that in mind.
Logistically speaking, at the moment I am a bit too preoccupied with trying to learn German and sort out my project to devote the proper attention that I imagine would be necessary to wish for a husband from Shanghai. But, I guess I could add it to the five year plan.
Anyways, it seems that Chinese Valentine´s Day is also of importance to new brides. As it so happens one of my best friends was married just this weekend in a land far far away, called New Jersey. Since I wasn´t able to be there with her, I figured I would offer her this piece of Chinese Valentine´s Day advice: Make an offering of flowers, tea, and fruit. Then take some face powder and put half of it on the roof and distribute the other half to the young ladies of the house. According to Chinese tradition, you will forever share in Zhinu´s beauty.
Monday, August 9, 2010
What did you do, eat a clown for breakfast?
Yup, this is an actual German saying, according to my teacher. The exact words are "Hast du einen Clown gefrüstückt?" It´s generally a way of acknowledging that a group of people have what one might refer to commonly as "the sillies" or "the giggles".
The German language is chock full of wonderful sayings, colorful words, and ridiculously specific verbs. One of the most interesting things about the language is one of its grammatical quirks in which verbs are often relocated to the end of sentences. It gives the language a sense of anticipation... a little bit of, well, excitement.
Whereas in English one might say, "Do you know the man, who ate a clown Monday before brushing his teeth, buttoning his shirt, tying his shoes, driving to work, attending a meeting and laughing uncontrollably in front of his boss for two and a half hours?"
In German one would say, "Do you know the man, who Monday before brushing his teeth, buttoning his shirt, tying his shoes, driving to work, attending a meeting and laughing uncontrollably in front of his boss for two and a half hours a clown ate?"
See what I mean? It´s a pretty suspenseful language. (I admit that was a terrible example, but you get the point, Suspense!!!)
With all of this in mind, sometimes it´s hard to tell if I am actually making any progress in my pursuit to speak German. I don´t have too many conversations with Germans quite yet. Mostly I just talk to the other fellows and the teachers.
They say you will know when you are really absorbing a language when you dream in that language. Well, I can definitely say for sure that I am dreaming in German. The trouble is, I can´t understand a word that´s being said! It´s like my subconscious is a foreign film without subtitles.
In an effort to improve our ability to speak and understand in German, today we played the game taboo. As my Russian classmates were unfamiliar with the game, one of my all time favorites, I had the pleasure of explaining the rules. The group divides into two teams. Each team takes turns trying to help their teammates guess words that are written on flashcards. Some common words that might be used to help describe the word are also listed, but these words are taboo (hence the name taboo), and if you say those words, you lose a point, or a turn, or something. The goal is to expand your vocabulary and ability to free associate in German.
Problem 1: My dear wonderful Russians seemed to miss the point of teams. They all wanted to guess and help each other during every turn (thanks a bunch communism).
Problem 2: They insisted on using Russia and Russian references to explain every other word. I wish I were kidding. Here are some examples of interactions during the game:
"This is a problem that Russia has been experiencing in the financial sector since 2008..." Word: Crisis
"This is something that is happening in Moscow right now..." Word: Fire
"This is a place that shares a border with eastern Russia..." My guesses: China, Mongolia, various countries ending with Stan. Actual answer: Japan.
JAPAN? Seriously? Ok, I could not control myself anymore. In some of the best German I have displayed since arriving here I explained to them that Japan is a nation made up of islands. It can´t share a border with Russia or any other country for that matter!!!
Finally it was my turn. Of all things, I got the word Parka. So, I gave it a try.
"This is something you might wear in the winter to stay warm if you lived in Siberia " Answer: Blank stares. Five confused Russians sat before me.
That was when our teacher made a new rule. The words Russia, Moscow, and Siberia, permanently taboo.
The German language is chock full of wonderful sayings, colorful words, and ridiculously specific verbs. One of the most interesting things about the language is one of its grammatical quirks in which verbs are often relocated to the end of sentences. It gives the language a sense of anticipation... a little bit of, well, excitement.
Whereas in English one might say, "Do you know the man, who ate a clown Monday before brushing his teeth, buttoning his shirt, tying his shoes, driving to work, attending a meeting and laughing uncontrollably in front of his boss for two and a half hours?"
In German one would say, "Do you know the man, who Monday before brushing his teeth, buttoning his shirt, tying his shoes, driving to work, attending a meeting and laughing uncontrollably in front of his boss for two and a half hours a clown ate?"
See what I mean? It´s a pretty suspenseful language. (I admit that was a terrible example, but you get the point, Suspense!!!)
With all of this in mind, sometimes it´s hard to tell if I am actually making any progress in my pursuit to speak German. I don´t have too many conversations with Germans quite yet. Mostly I just talk to the other fellows and the teachers.
They say you will know when you are really absorbing a language when you dream in that language. Well, I can definitely say for sure that I am dreaming in German. The trouble is, I can´t understand a word that´s being said! It´s like my subconscious is a foreign film without subtitles.
In an effort to improve our ability to speak and understand in German, today we played the game taboo. As my Russian classmates were unfamiliar with the game, one of my all time favorites, I had the pleasure of explaining the rules. The group divides into two teams. Each team takes turns trying to help their teammates guess words that are written on flashcards. Some common words that might be used to help describe the word are also listed, but these words are taboo (hence the name taboo), and if you say those words, you lose a point, or a turn, or something. The goal is to expand your vocabulary and ability to free associate in German.
Problem 1: My dear wonderful Russians seemed to miss the point of teams. They all wanted to guess and help each other during every turn (thanks a bunch communism).
Problem 2: They insisted on using Russia and Russian references to explain every other word. I wish I were kidding. Here are some examples of interactions during the game:
"This is a problem that Russia has been experiencing in the financial sector since 2008..." Word: Crisis
"This is something that is happening in Moscow right now..." Word: Fire
"This is a place that shares a border with eastern Russia..." My guesses: China, Mongolia, various countries ending with Stan. Actual answer: Japan.
JAPAN? Seriously? Ok, I could not control myself anymore. In some of the best German I have displayed since arriving here I explained to them that Japan is a nation made up of islands. It can´t share a border with Russia or any other country for that matter!!!
Finally it was my turn. Of all things, I got the word Parka. So, I gave it a try.
"This is something you might wear in the winter to stay warm if you lived in Siberia " Answer: Blank stares. Five confused Russians sat before me.
That was when our teacher made a new rule. The words Russia, Moscow, and Siberia, permanently taboo.
Germany Exposed
I suppose it is fair to say that part of my job here in Germany is to take time to get to know and understand German culture. I am trying to take this part of my work especially seriously this summer before my actual project begins in October. And, let me tell you, while 25 hours a week of language school may not exactly sound like a stressful life, you have to keep in mind that when the school day ends, and even when the weekend begins, my work is not done. Every moment, every experience, every interaction is part of my fellowship - thus my work.
This weekend my work took me to a town about 30 minutes south of Bonn, called Bad Neuenahr, in the Ahr Valley. Bad Neuenahr, as its name suggests, is a spa town along the Ahr River, a tributary of the Rhine. The town is the site of the Apollinaris spring, from which Apollinaris mineral water "the queen of table waters" has been sourced since 1852. According to the bottle of Apollinaris sitting in front of me at this moment, the company is now owned by Coca-Cola.
Nevertheless, the purpose of my visit to Bad Neuenahr was not to drink from the spring, but rather to bathe in its waters. Mineral water contains naturally occurring substances that a) make it taste sort of weird and b) make it supposedly therapeutic. Going back to Roman times, naturally occurring springs, like the one in Bad Neuenahr, have been desirable locations for wellness and relaxation. With that in mind, I suppose it shouldn´t come as much of a surprise that most of the patrons at natural springs looked old enough to remember the Roman era, personally.
As one of my colleagues and fellow spa enthusiast studies the Social Security system in Germany, and had just days before given a report on the subject, we considered this opportunity up close research on the lives of pensioners.
In addition to bathing in the mineral laden waters (I have a sneaking suspicion that the water in these baths is honestly no different than that of your average swimming pool, but then again, I am no expert, yet) we visited the various different styles of saunas offered. This, is when I really had the opportunity to see Germany. All of it. More than I had planned. Mostly just because the saunas were clothing optional. I learned as a child on a family vacation in the French Caribbean that there is a direct correlation between the age of a European and his/her desire to be naked in public settings. Germans are no exception.
I also learned how little I understand temperatures in Celcius. Like all good Americans I pretty much spaced out in elementary school when the metric system was explained, because I understood innately from birth that so long as I continue to live in the USA (or if I move to Liberia or Myanmar), the metric system just doesn´t effect my life. No matter how willingly we as Americans may export useful things like happy meals and coca cola to the great wide world, there is just no place in these fifty states where we seem to care to import things like milligrams or meters, and definitely not Celcius (scientists and other practical matters as usual excluded). My ignorance to the subject first came to light when I studied abroad in Austria and accidentally purchased a kilogram of spinach. That´s a lot of spinach.
The second time was this weekend, when I happily walked into a 95 degree sauna. As it turns out, that is pretty damn hot. My level of understanding of normal Celcius temperatures is pretty good, I think. I mean, sure I understand the formula for figuring out the actual temperature, but generally I just follow these simple rules: 0 is Freezing of course, less than 10C wear a winter coat, 10-15C, light coat and optional scarf, 15-20 light coat, 20-25C t-shirt, 25-30C shorts, 30C and up air conditioning and swimming pools may be necessary.
If I had known that I was entering a room that was over 200F, you can be certain I would not have entered, but since I had no clue, I happily partook in this traditional toxin purge. And you know what? It was delightful (for like 5 minutes before it felt like my face was going to burst into flames). Lesson to my isolationist third grade self who daydreamed her way through math class: You can do your best to hide from the world, but whatever you do, don´t hide from it in a 200 degree sauna.
But back to Bad Neuenahr. After leaving the sauna we wandered a bit through the town, where it seemed that the favored post-wellness activities of drinking beer, eating wurst, and listening to a local band play ABBA songs were in high gear. Out with the old toxins, and in with the new.
On the way back to Bonn we stopped in the town of Remagen. Remagen, which sits along the Rhine, is about 2000 years old. It is amazing to me to think that 2000 years ago Remagen was a dot on a map, but New York and so many major players in the geography of today were not yet even inky twinkles in a cartographer´s eye. Today, Remagen is still just a speck. But, through that speck one might say Germany has been, on two notable occasions, exposed.
The first time was when Caesar´s army crossed a bridge near Remagen to the western side of the Rhine and then destroyed the bridge, preventing the German tribes from crossing the river.
The second time was during World War II. By March of 1945 the Ludendorff Bridge, built in 1916, was the only bridge across the Rhine that was still standing. This allowed the American soldiers the luxury of crossing the Rhine with dry feet. Hitler saw his army´s inability to destroy this bridge, despite numerous attempts, of course, as a sign of wrongdoing within his own army and had five high official condemned to death. Ten days after American troops crossed the river, the bridge finally collapsed. More a morale boost than a major strategic accomplishment, Remagen is a reminder of the depth and complexity of modern Germany´s relationship to its near and ancient history. Today all that remains of the Ludendorff Bridge are the identical towers on either side of the river and a few feet (ok, meters) of the bridge itself jutting out over the water. The tower on the Remagen side is now a museum.
This weekend my work took me to a town about 30 minutes south of Bonn, called Bad Neuenahr, in the Ahr Valley. Bad Neuenahr, as its name suggests, is a spa town along the Ahr River, a tributary of the Rhine. The town is the site of the Apollinaris spring, from which Apollinaris mineral water "the queen of table waters" has been sourced since 1852. According to the bottle of Apollinaris sitting in front of me at this moment, the company is now owned by Coca-Cola.
Nevertheless, the purpose of my visit to Bad Neuenahr was not to drink from the spring, but rather to bathe in its waters. Mineral water contains naturally occurring substances that a) make it taste sort of weird and b) make it supposedly therapeutic. Going back to Roman times, naturally occurring springs, like the one in Bad Neuenahr, have been desirable locations for wellness and relaxation. With that in mind, I suppose it shouldn´t come as much of a surprise that most of the patrons at natural springs looked old enough to remember the Roman era, personally.
As one of my colleagues and fellow spa enthusiast studies the Social Security system in Germany, and had just days before given a report on the subject, we considered this opportunity up close research on the lives of pensioners.
In addition to bathing in the mineral laden waters (I have a sneaking suspicion that the water in these baths is honestly no different than that of your average swimming pool, but then again, I am no expert, yet) we visited the various different styles of saunas offered. This, is when I really had the opportunity to see Germany. All of it. More than I had planned. Mostly just because the saunas were clothing optional. I learned as a child on a family vacation in the French Caribbean that there is a direct correlation between the age of a European and his/her desire to be naked in public settings. Germans are no exception.
I also learned how little I understand temperatures in Celcius. Like all good Americans I pretty much spaced out in elementary school when the metric system was explained, because I understood innately from birth that so long as I continue to live in the USA (or if I move to Liberia or Myanmar), the metric system just doesn´t effect my life. No matter how willingly we as Americans may export useful things like happy meals and coca cola to the great wide world, there is just no place in these fifty states where we seem to care to import things like milligrams or meters, and definitely not Celcius (scientists and other practical matters as usual excluded). My ignorance to the subject first came to light when I studied abroad in Austria and accidentally purchased a kilogram of spinach. That´s a lot of spinach.
The second time was this weekend, when I happily walked into a 95 degree sauna. As it turns out, that is pretty damn hot. My level of understanding of normal Celcius temperatures is pretty good, I think. I mean, sure I understand the formula for figuring out the actual temperature, but generally I just follow these simple rules: 0 is Freezing of course, less than 10C wear a winter coat, 10-15C, light coat and optional scarf, 15-20 light coat, 20-25C t-shirt, 25-30C shorts, 30C and up air conditioning and swimming pools may be necessary.
If I had known that I was entering a room that was over 200F, you can be certain I would not have entered, but since I had no clue, I happily partook in this traditional toxin purge. And you know what? It was delightful (for like 5 minutes before it felt like my face was going to burst into flames). Lesson to my isolationist third grade self who daydreamed her way through math class: You can do your best to hide from the world, but whatever you do, don´t hide from it in a 200 degree sauna.
But back to Bad Neuenahr. After leaving the sauna we wandered a bit through the town, where it seemed that the favored post-wellness activities of drinking beer, eating wurst, and listening to a local band play ABBA songs were in high gear. Out with the old toxins, and in with the new.
On the way back to Bonn we stopped in the town of Remagen. Remagen, which sits along the Rhine, is about 2000 years old. It is amazing to me to think that 2000 years ago Remagen was a dot on a map, but New York and so many major players in the geography of today were not yet even inky twinkles in a cartographer´s eye. Today, Remagen is still just a speck. But, through that speck one might say Germany has been, on two notable occasions, exposed.
The first time was when Caesar´s army crossed a bridge near Remagen to the western side of the Rhine and then destroyed the bridge, preventing the German tribes from crossing the river.
The second time was during World War II. By March of 1945 the Ludendorff Bridge, built in 1916, was the only bridge across the Rhine that was still standing. This allowed the American soldiers the luxury of crossing the Rhine with dry feet. Hitler saw his army´s inability to destroy this bridge, despite numerous attempts, of course, as a sign of wrongdoing within his own army and had five high official condemned to death. Ten days after American troops crossed the river, the bridge finally collapsed. More a morale boost than a major strategic accomplishment, Remagen is a reminder of the depth and complexity of modern Germany´s relationship to its near and ancient history. Today all that remains of the Ludendorff Bridge are the identical towers on either side of the river and a few feet (ok, meters) of the bridge itself jutting out over the water. The tower on the Remagen side is now a museum.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
A hand full of things that I love about Germany
Having now been in Germany for one month, I figured it was about time to tell you some of the best things about my life so far here in Deutschland. Sometimes when I am writing I have a tendency to report only about the bizarre, the unpleasant, and the confusing elements of my life here. But, there are a lot of really great things that Germany has to offer, things that have struck my fancy. So, I thought I would take this moment to list some of them for you, in no particular order.
1. My toothpaste contains myrrh... as in frankincense and myrrh, as in every morning I wake up and anoint my teeth with myrrh, bible style. Ok, myrrh is the last ingredient, and it isn´t like every toothpaste in Germany has myrrh. I am not even sure if toothpaste should contain myrrh or what exactly myrrh does if you are not, say, Jesus or Moses. But, the point is, every single day in Germany is more delightful because it starts with a little dose of myrrh.
2. German TV. I seriously cannot say enough good things about German TV. In my life in America, TV does not play a huge role. As a kid we never had cable, and my parents fooled us for years into thinking that public television was simply the only station that our TV was able to pick up. But in a foreign country, it is actually pretty useful to watch some TV to help learn the language. I have, therefore, identified several German TV programs that I consider very much worth my time.
First off, there is the morning weather report. Practical. When I actually want to know the weather, the morning news shows are of course exactly like those in the US. However, if I am less interested in, say, what the temperature here in Bonn is, and want to know just in general what the weather might be like in various different parts of Germany and Austria, then I tune in to a different show. I don´t know what it is called, but basically the program plays German folk music and show misty morning views of the Alps and small villages and reports the temperature in tiny places where basically no one lives. It is wonderful. I like to watch it while brushing my teeth with myrrh.
The second genre of German TV that I enjoy is the dokudrama, basically reality tv, but with average people. These shows are generally on in the afternoon while I do homework. A personal favorite, Der Schulermittler (the school investigator), features social worker superheroes who intervene in the lives of troubled youth by barging into their high schools and homes and meddling with their personal affairs. In a recent episode, the Schulermittler rescued a young girl whose estranged father wanted to take her to African with him and sell her for a bride price. As always, the Shulermittler saved the day.
3. The Mensa. Unlike their American colleagues, who eat lunch quickly at their desks or go out to a restaurant in the middle of the work day, German workers gather together each day in a cafeteria, called a Mensa, where they leisurely enjoy a hot lunch. We BUKAs trudge across the street each day at 1:30 to our local Mensa for our 45 minute lunch break. In general the food offered by the Mensa is not too appealing to my American tastes, but I really enjoy seeing what is billed as "typical German fare". Most days the Mensa offers about 4 kinds of potato dishes, an unidentifiable soup-like substance, some type of Wurst, and a salad bar that often manages to include almost everything you can imagine... except salad (renaming it the mayonnaise bar might be a good idea). By far, the best thing about the Mensa, besides the opportunity to watch Germans in business suits behaving like awkward, nervous high schoolers, is the presence of fresh herbs which one may pick and add to his/her dish. It took me about 2 weeks to realize that they weren´t decorative potted plants, but now I take great joy in adding a sprig or two of parsley to my day.
4. Public outdoor space. Bonn is, in my opinion, a very people-friendly city. The city itself contains lots of pedestrian-only areas, cobble stone streets, monuments, grassy areas, bike paths, outdoor market areas, and gardens. As a result people always seem to be out and about in the city, and I really like that. I try to walk from school to the city center every afternoon along the Rhine, and it seems like most of the city is walking or biking all day long as well. Most evenings we take a walk through our local Tannenbusch Park. The park has plenty of paths, picnic space, playgrounds for children, and finds a nice balance between manicured park ground and natural space.
5. And to close this entry, one more thing I really like about Germany is its proximity to other countries, and the open border policy of the EU. On Saturday I took a day trip with my friend Olga, from Siberia (no kidding, I have friends from Siberia. There are actually a lot of people up there!) to visit Maastricht in the Netherlands, and Liege in Belgium. That´s right, three countries, three languages, one day. Traveling by train, it took us about 2 hours each way to make the trip. Neither city is particularly noteworthy for tourists, but we had a nice time.
1. My toothpaste contains myrrh... as in frankincense and myrrh, as in every morning I wake up and anoint my teeth with myrrh, bible style. Ok, myrrh is the last ingredient, and it isn´t like every toothpaste in Germany has myrrh. I am not even sure if toothpaste should contain myrrh or what exactly myrrh does if you are not, say, Jesus or Moses. But, the point is, every single day in Germany is more delightful because it starts with a little dose of myrrh.
2. German TV. I seriously cannot say enough good things about German TV. In my life in America, TV does not play a huge role. As a kid we never had cable, and my parents fooled us for years into thinking that public television was simply the only station that our TV was able to pick up. But in a foreign country, it is actually pretty useful to watch some TV to help learn the language. I have, therefore, identified several German TV programs that I consider very much worth my time.
First off, there is the morning weather report. Practical. When I actually want to know the weather, the morning news shows are of course exactly like those in the US. However, if I am less interested in, say, what the temperature here in Bonn is, and want to know just in general what the weather might be like in various different parts of Germany and Austria, then I tune in to a different show. I don´t know what it is called, but basically the program plays German folk music and show misty morning views of the Alps and small villages and reports the temperature in tiny places where basically no one lives. It is wonderful. I like to watch it while brushing my teeth with myrrh.
The second genre of German TV that I enjoy is the dokudrama, basically reality tv, but with average people. These shows are generally on in the afternoon while I do homework. A personal favorite, Der Schulermittler (the school investigator), features social worker superheroes who intervene in the lives of troubled youth by barging into their high schools and homes and meddling with their personal affairs. In a recent episode, the Schulermittler rescued a young girl whose estranged father wanted to take her to African with him and sell her for a bride price. As always, the Shulermittler saved the day.
3. The Mensa. Unlike their American colleagues, who eat lunch quickly at their desks or go out to a restaurant in the middle of the work day, German workers gather together each day in a cafeteria, called a Mensa, where they leisurely enjoy a hot lunch. We BUKAs trudge across the street each day at 1:30 to our local Mensa for our 45 minute lunch break. In general the food offered by the Mensa is not too appealing to my American tastes, but I really enjoy seeing what is billed as "typical German fare". Most days the Mensa offers about 4 kinds of potato dishes, an unidentifiable soup-like substance, some type of Wurst, and a salad bar that often manages to include almost everything you can imagine... except salad (renaming it the mayonnaise bar might be a good idea). By far, the best thing about the Mensa, besides the opportunity to watch Germans in business suits behaving like awkward, nervous high schoolers, is the presence of fresh herbs which one may pick and add to his/her dish. It took me about 2 weeks to realize that they weren´t decorative potted plants, but now I take great joy in adding a sprig or two of parsley to my day.
4. Public outdoor space. Bonn is, in my opinion, a very people-friendly city. The city itself contains lots of pedestrian-only areas, cobble stone streets, monuments, grassy areas, bike paths, outdoor market areas, and gardens. As a result people always seem to be out and about in the city, and I really like that. I try to walk from school to the city center every afternoon along the Rhine, and it seems like most of the city is walking or biking all day long as well. Most evenings we take a walk through our local Tannenbusch Park. The park has plenty of paths, picnic space, playgrounds for children, and finds a nice balance between manicured park ground and natural space.
5. And to close this entry, one more thing I really like about Germany is its proximity to other countries, and the open border policy of the EU. On Saturday I took a day trip with my friend Olga, from Siberia (no kidding, I have friends from Siberia. There are actually a lot of people up there!) to visit Maastricht in the Netherlands, and Liege in Belgium. That´s right, three countries, three languages, one day. Traveling by train, it took us about 2 hours each way to make the trip. Neither city is particularly noteworthy for tourists, but we had a nice time.
OkOk, hopefully you get the idea. We climbed towers. We crossed bridges. We climbed staircases. We rode trains. We ate Belgian Waffles. We learned that neither of us speaks French. We learned that Belgians often do not speak English, German or Russian. We learned that Dutch is pretty easy to understand if you already know German and English. In summary, my life in Germany is not always fascinating, but it is almost always good.
Rachel Cylus, Übersetzer
"Rachel, can be your translator!"
I had just walked into the office at my Language Institute here in Bonn, when I heard my name. I looked up to see one of the employees in the office talking to some of the fellows in another program from the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation. You see, the thirty fellows in my program, us BUKAs, are all from China, Russia and the USA. But, there is also a new fellowship program called the Klima Fellowship. This Fellowship, which is in its first year, brings 15 young professionals from so called "developing countries" (I actually have no idea if that is the PC term anymore, but the fellows themselves told me they came from the third world, and I KNOW that is not PC anymore, so this term will have to do) to Germany for a year to do work related to the environment and climate control. They spend the summer with us in Bonn learning German. It seemed that at that very moment a group of Klima Fellows had just received the dates for their appointments to apply for and receive their Visas to stay in Germany for the year.
All of us fellows, no matter our country of origin (since none of us are from the European Union) have to apply for Visas to stay in Germany for the year and "work". The fellows from most countries, (we Americans are an exception) had to get temporary visas before arriving in Germany. They cannot visit other EU countries until they have their German visa, so as you can imagine, most people want to get their visas ASAP. Americans, however, can visit any part of the EU for up to 90 days with just a passport. But, once arriving in Germany, we all have to get our visas eventually. It is a pretty straight forward process. You have to have some papers and documents in order, a photo of yourself (um, always in Germany), your passport, and then you sign something and you are good to go.
That is, unless you happen to be a citizen of one of the following countries:
Afghanistan
Bangladesh
Belarus
Congo (DR)
Egypt
Indonesia
Iran
Iraq
Jordan
Kazakhstan
Lebanon
Libya
Mauritania
Nigeria
North Korea
Pakistan
Rwanda
Saudi Arabia
Somalia
Sudan
Syria
Vietnam
Yemen
Palestine
Refugees and Stateless people
The axis of ambivalence, if you will. If you happen to carry a passport from one of these countries, or if you are stateless, you will need a special interview and you must bring a translator, regardless of your language skills, before you are granted a visa to Germany. It seemed that I had just been volunteered to be the übersetzer for an Egyptian Klima fellow.
Obviously I was a little concerned. I have a hard enough time getting myself around in German. People misunderstand me when I try to order a sandwich. How exactly was I supposed to help Hamada, my new Egyptian friend, get his visa? I was probably going to get him deported by accident.
Thursday I went with Hamada and two other Klima fellows to the visa office. As it turns out, the woman who works at the office speaks perfect English, as does Hamada. All of the forms are available in English. The interview forms are available in English. So, you may be wondering, what exactly was my roll as übersetzer...? Well, when Hamada checked yes or no on his English form, I checked ja or nein on the same exact form in German. Waste of everyone´s time, if you ask me. The interview process went like this: Have you ever held political, religious or ideological ideas that are in conflict with Germany? Answer: No. Look at this list of known terrorist: Have you ever attended meetings or training sessions with any of these individuals: Um, nope. Look at this list of countries: Have you ever visited any of these countries? Answer: I do not need to look at the list.
Obviously this sort of stopped the woman interviewing Hamada in her tracks. She inquired as to why he thought he shouldn´t have to look at the list, the look of a happy terrorist hunter glowing in her eyes. As it turns out, Hamada has never left Egypt before. Well, welcome to the rest of the world Hamada, where your nation of origin automatically makes you a suspicious figure!!
In the end it all worked out. Hamada got his visa, I can add translator to my resume, and my brother got deported from England.
What? So originally this blog was going to be a rant about how unfair it is that western countries, like Germany, stereotype about other countries, like Egypt. And that we should all have to answer those same stupid questions, because I as an American am just as likely to have fraternized with terrorists as Hamada, ok more likely, because I have actually left my home country before.
But then again, my brother actually did get deported from England in the same week that I helped Hamada stay in Germany, so what do you make of that? It turns out that an American traveling with a one way ticket to England to work for the United Nations can be put on a plane and sent back to the USA. So much for the Special Relationship, Winston Churchill´s famous phrase to describe the closeness, politically, culturally, diplomatically, and historically, between our two countries.
It may have taken one American girl with bad German to help one Egyptian get a visa to stay in Germany, but it took the entire United Nations to help one American get to England.
I had just walked into the office at my Language Institute here in Bonn, when I heard my name. I looked up to see one of the employees in the office talking to some of the fellows in another program from the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation. You see, the thirty fellows in my program, us BUKAs, are all from China, Russia and the USA. But, there is also a new fellowship program called the Klima Fellowship. This Fellowship, which is in its first year, brings 15 young professionals from so called "developing countries" (I actually have no idea if that is the PC term anymore, but the fellows themselves told me they came from the third world, and I KNOW that is not PC anymore, so this term will have to do) to Germany for a year to do work related to the environment and climate control. They spend the summer with us in Bonn learning German. It seemed that at that very moment a group of Klima Fellows had just received the dates for their appointments to apply for and receive their Visas to stay in Germany for the year.
All of us fellows, no matter our country of origin (since none of us are from the European Union) have to apply for Visas to stay in Germany for the year and "work". The fellows from most countries, (we Americans are an exception) had to get temporary visas before arriving in Germany. They cannot visit other EU countries until they have their German visa, so as you can imagine, most people want to get their visas ASAP. Americans, however, can visit any part of the EU for up to 90 days with just a passport. But, once arriving in Germany, we all have to get our visas eventually. It is a pretty straight forward process. You have to have some papers and documents in order, a photo of yourself (um, always in Germany), your passport, and then you sign something and you are good to go.
That is, unless you happen to be a citizen of one of the following countries:
Afghanistan
Bangladesh
Belarus
Congo (DR)
Egypt
Indonesia
Iran
Iraq
Jordan
Kazakhstan
Lebanon
Libya
Mauritania
Nigeria
North Korea
Pakistan
Rwanda
Saudi Arabia
Somalia
Sudan
Syria
Vietnam
Yemen
Palestine
Refugees and Stateless people
The axis of ambivalence, if you will. If you happen to carry a passport from one of these countries, or if you are stateless, you will need a special interview and you must bring a translator, regardless of your language skills, before you are granted a visa to Germany. It seemed that I had just been volunteered to be the übersetzer for an Egyptian Klima fellow.
Obviously I was a little concerned. I have a hard enough time getting myself around in German. People misunderstand me when I try to order a sandwich. How exactly was I supposed to help Hamada, my new Egyptian friend, get his visa? I was probably going to get him deported by accident.
Thursday I went with Hamada and two other Klima fellows to the visa office. As it turns out, the woman who works at the office speaks perfect English, as does Hamada. All of the forms are available in English. The interview forms are available in English. So, you may be wondering, what exactly was my roll as übersetzer...? Well, when Hamada checked yes or no on his English form, I checked ja or nein on the same exact form in German. Waste of everyone´s time, if you ask me. The interview process went like this: Have you ever held political, religious or ideological ideas that are in conflict with Germany? Answer: No. Look at this list of known terrorist: Have you ever attended meetings or training sessions with any of these individuals: Um, nope. Look at this list of countries: Have you ever visited any of these countries? Answer: I do not need to look at the list.
Obviously this sort of stopped the woman interviewing Hamada in her tracks. She inquired as to why he thought he shouldn´t have to look at the list, the look of a happy terrorist hunter glowing in her eyes. As it turns out, Hamada has never left Egypt before. Well, welcome to the rest of the world Hamada, where your nation of origin automatically makes you a suspicious figure!!
In the end it all worked out. Hamada got his visa, I can add translator to my resume, and my brother got deported from England.
What? So originally this blog was going to be a rant about how unfair it is that western countries, like Germany, stereotype about other countries, like Egypt. And that we should all have to answer those same stupid questions, because I as an American am just as likely to have fraternized with terrorists as Hamada, ok more likely, because I have actually left my home country before.
But then again, my brother actually did get deported from England in the same week that I helped Hamada stay in Germany, so what do you make of that? It turns out that an American traveling with a one way ticket to England to work for the United Nations can be put on a plane and sent back to the USA. So much for the Special Relationship, Winston Churchill´s famous phrase to describe the closeness, politically, culturally, diplomatically, and historically, between our two countries.
It may have taken one American girl with bad German to help one Egyptian get a visa to stay in Germany, but it took the entire United Nations to help one American get to England.
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