YA: A Very Merry German-Birthday To Me! (To You!)

It happened! I finally turned 21! I’ve become an actual proper grown up, a real adult, and with adulthood comes obligation. I’m supposed to understand mortgage rates now, and how to do complicated things at the bank without calling my dad. I should be able to buy light bulbs and use the iron without burning a hole in my jacket. I have to start cleaning once a week and airing things and stop putting posters on my wall in favour of nice pictures of sunsets and replace my ‘vintage pictures with rude captions’ calendar with one featuring pictures of puppies peeping out of wellington boots. Oh God, I can feel the weight of responsibility crushing down on me as I type… But less of this existential nonsense; I didn’t begin this blog to debate my existence. I want to talk about how I celebrated my birthday, which is much more fun, wouldn’t you say?

I certainly did my big two one with a bang. Several bangs in fact. Party time began way back in July with the customary and always awesome family BBQ, in which I had the most amazing chocolate cake baked for me by my cousin. It had a firework candle and it tasted like melted dreams if dreams were made of solid Green & Blacks. Celebration number two came in the form of a surprise party thrown by my delightful friends, something which I knew absolutely nothing about until they were popping party poppers over my head and showering me with balloons. Another excellent day, filled with love and another impressive cake and wine in teapots. As if that wasn’t enough, towards the end of the summer and about a week before I left for Germany, my mum and dad took me for the fanciest of fancy meals at Langar Hall as an extra birthday treat. Twenty one has certainly been an excellent birthday.

However, even though I’d already celebrated to the max, I still got my very own Germany birthday. Last Saturday I took a trip to Münster for what was most definitely the best day I’ve had in Germany since I got here. First off, as my present, I got treated to a trip to the zoo, which was nothing short of amazing. I mean, with a sea lion that could do handstands, a ‘Guinea Pig Opera’ in the petting zoo and a shop called “Zooverniers”, how could it not be? We fed tropical birds from tiny cups of nectar, saw the cutest baby orang-utan, laughed at the dedication of the Germans to their massive cameras, pissed off some Germans with massive cameras by jumping on a wobbly bridge, played British Tourist Spotting* and watched one penguin give another penguin a cuddle. I also got my very first German birthday card (‘to the Chocolate Monster’, thanks guys).

After the zoo, the night was still but young, so we went and bought cheap alcohol from Lidl and got drunk. Hilarity and pizza ensued, but I believe that some things, such as the terrible German brandy, the three -way spoon in a single bed and the candle penis should really belong only to that night. I’ll say this, however: I haven’t laughed that much in a good long time. My actual birthday was understandably less raucous, what with having to go to work and things. I still had a lovely selection of cards to open though, as well as a long-awaited Skpye chat with Charlie and one or two nice surprises. Apparently there are still more in the post, so my birthday hasn’t stopped even now.

I originally thought that my twenty-first would be a washout, that I would be sad and alone in Germany and that it wouldn’t get celebrated at all. As it happens, I’ve never celebrated a birthday so much in my life. So all that remains to say is thanks to everyone who sent me a card, or a gift or a facebook message. Thanks to the Münster lot for a wicked day. Thanks to everyone a home who took the time over the summer to celebrate with me. You’ve all made me feel so loved and so special and I hope I can do half as much for you all on your birthdays. Lots of love to you all. Peace out. :)

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*In the first group of Brits we spied, one man was taking a photo of a diagram depicting elephants having sex. The second group we saw were clutching cans of Stella and wading into the children’s petting zoo. I’ve never been so proud of my nation. 

YA: I Don't Get It.

I’m sat in bed following my fabulous 8.30 lay-in. Oh yes, 8.30. Three hours later than normal, and let me tell you it’s absolute bliss. The light is streaming through the gap in the curtains I don’t have (so the window, then) and I have very little to do today other than visit the bank, so I though, hey! Why not write another blog?

As not much has changed in my Germany dynamic over the past couple of days, I’m going to keep it short, but I feel there’s just some things I don’t understand about Germany that I have to get off my chest. Firstly, crossing the road. Jay-walking is a crime in Germany apparently second only to murder, or at least you would have thought so given the dirty looks given to you when you try it. Everyone stands patiently waiting for the green man, even when there is no traffic in sight. Why? Cross the road! Nothing will hit you! There’s nothing to hit you! Even more bizarrely this obsession with safety on the roads is not translated to the train, where there is in some stations frankly an enormous gap between the train and the platform. There’s not even any warning signs. No ‘mind the gap’, nothing. So in a country obsessed with trying to stop you getting run over by an invisible bus, they’re quite happy to let you fall down a foot-and-a-half wide gap and get mangled by a train. Mental.

Then there’s the supermarkets. Where is the order in those places? They’re just a jumble sale of meat and exotic biscuits! This is a qualm I particularly have with Norma (similar in the supermarket hierarchy to Asda back home) where they’ve got bottles of vinegar lined up along the top of the freezers for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just make space for it in the sauces section! Kaufland, I have discovered, is a bit more organised, but generally massive, meaning you have to take a compass and a map if you want to emerge with your chicken before a week on Thursday, because nothing is sign-posted and you’ll get lost in the vegetable isle for hours whilst desperately trying to find the cereal.

Something else that is particularly getting my goat is opening hours. It isn’t just the fact that German turns into a ghost town on Sundays and you have to go to a train station to see any signs of life. No, the opening hours I’m having particular issue with are the ones to do with the university. I was under the impression that German university courses were pretty intense, that they had lots of lectures in a day and they generally started pretty early. Why, then, are the offices for the university housing service only open from 10-1 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, and then from 1-3 on Tuesdays? Surely no one can go to these middle of the day times (I certainly can’t, what with being at work) resulting in a mahoosive queue on Tuesday afternoons because that’s the only slot when everyone’s free. The Auslanderamt have similarly stupid office hours. It’s driving me crackers.

And speaking of queues, the only decently ordered queue that I have so far experienced in Germany was in the post office. Everywhere else, the bank, the train, the office for Anmeldung, has all been some kind of massive un-ordered free for all, where everyone waits in a higgledy-piggledy order and tries to guess who got there first. Life would be so much easier if you just had some kind of system. Come on, Germans, I thought you were organised.

Hmm, this wasn’t as short as I was intending it to be. I obviously had more to vent than I originally thought. Don’t get me wrong, I think Germany’s a great country. They still do certain things far better than back home (public transport and biscuits to name but two). However I think there’s some things for which I’ll always prefer the British mentality; the German way is just a little too unfathomable. 

YA: Hi Ho, It's Off To Work I Go!

I knew this whole Germany thing would pick up as soon as I started work. Knew it, knew it, knew it!

I’m only three days in, but I’m really enjoying this job. Everyone at Heinrich-Heine is so lovely: the teachers, the pupils, the secretaries, everyone. I’ve seldom had a welcome like it (staff room announcement followed by the German version of the round of applause ie. banging your knuckles on the table) and all are being extremely patient with my stilted German. I’m in the process of making friends with a German girl from Bochum who’s on work experience before she goes back to uni and today, after a Klasse 5 lesson that I had sat in on, the tiniest girl came up to me to say “I wish to you a lovely rest of today!”. It was so cute I nearly died.

My first day was something of a whirl. First of all, despite a reconnaissance mission the day before to locate the school, I still managed to get lost on my way there. Fortunately, I was only a couple of minutes late, but I must have looked somewhat of a sweaty and bedraggled state when I arrived, wheezing, at the gates.  Once I’d got my breath back, I was launched straight into a meeting with the Headteacher, a nice jovial man who chatted to me about Duisburg and the Studentenwohnheim and how I was settling in. After that, I got the grand tour of the building and was introduced to so many different teachers that their faces and names are a blur. As the day trundled on, I was informed about the Stundenplan and the coffee machine and handed my very own set of keys to the classrooms and staff room. I was also told in very-rapid German detail (and then again in English when I was discovered to be engulfed in bafflement) that I am to be tutoring the Cambridge English Exam groups, so no pressure there then. In addition, I also sat in on two classes, a Klasse 9 group and a Oberstufe bilingual history class where, even though I do history, I was lost in the discussion of the advent of modern democracy and could only really offer my input on source analysis. By the time I got home at five, I was knackered.

Because I hadn’t had to arrive until 10 o’ clock on my introductory day, I was vastly unprepared for the chronically horrible 5am wake up that occurred the next morning. I didn’t actually have to start until 8.15, but a 30 minute walk to the Hauptbahnhof, a 5-10 minutes train ride and then another 10 minute walk on arrival in Oberhausen are a substantial commute, though I have subsequently discovered that I can get a later train which will get me in on time, allowing me to sleep to the vastly later time of 5.30. Whoopee. I am going to have to train my body clock into these early starts because at the moment I’m crashing out at midday.

Anyway, blurry-eyed and messy-haired, I made it in. What followed was an immensely enjoyable day of mostly working with Klasse 6. Klasse 6 have been learning English for a good year (not counting whatever they learnt in the Grundschule) so they’re doing interesting subjects whilst still being young enough to have retained their youthful exuberance. I did confuse some poor kid by trying him to get to join two clauses with “but”, however other than that the day went very smoothly, and I made a mental note to try and have at least two Klasse 6 groups in my regular Studenplan when I eventually get round to writing it. Even the hour long wait outside the Studentenwerk just to hand in my Miete-Formular didn’t put a damper on my mood.

And my good mood has continued to today. I met the worst class in the school (apparently) and they’re still much nicer than my old Year 8 Curriculum Group at Secondary School, so that’s a win for Deutschland. I learnt the alphabet with Klasse 5 and we played “You Hear, You Say”. The sun has been shining, I found soy sauce in Kaufland, I’ve had a delivery of some beautiful flowers and I cooked a magnificent stir-fry, even if I do say so myself. I'm seeing people tomorrow and Saturday, and I'm just about to book a flight home for the Herbstferien.Yeah I'd have to say,that today, sat in my newly bloom-adorned room, life is looking good. 

YA: When The Going Gets Tough...

… the not-so-tough cry down the phone to their family and friends. Yeah, none of this British stiff-upper-lip bollocks for me, I’ll break right down when I get in a pickle.

In fairness to me, it’s not just homesickness that’s making me feel rubbish - the day after I posted my last blog was one of the worst days I have ever experienced. It started off OK, I went to Uni-Einschreibung which though logistically annoying in every way didn’t actually go wrong. I was , however, informed by the girl on the desk that she could tell instantly that I wasn’t German because I was wearing tights and a mini skirt. Apparently such garb is a bit risqué for the Germans. Whatever.

So mildly annoyed I may have been, but I wasn’t upset. However, then it all began to go tits up. For whatever reason, I forgot that you have to stamp your ticket before you get on the S-Bahn in Germany in order to validate it. And because I forgot, the inspector was obviously on my tram and obviously asked to see my ticket. Bam, on the spot 40Euro fine. Now, I think through a combination of stress, confusion and homesickness I was in a bit of a state of emotional unbalance, because I nearly burst into tears right there on the tram. However, I held it together, coughed up the cash and blundered my way to the internet café in which I have until recent times been practically living in. It was here that thing number two went wrong, because I discovered I couldn’t, as I had previously thought, pay money from my Natwest account into my shiny new Sparkasse one. Big problem, as my rent goes out from my Sparkasse account before my wages go into it. In short, I considered myself financially f**ked. It was round about here that Ruth phoned and my emotional stability collapsed. I held in the tears long enough to get back to my cell-like bedroom in the Studentenwohnheim and then proceeded to ball down the phone to her about how Germany was horrible and I wanted to go home. Ruth, your-deity-of-choice bless her*, is a level-headed soul and succeeded in calming me down with sensible words and loveliness.

I still, however, had a semi-financial crisis to fix. And, as always when I find myself in this situation, I resorted to my one hundred percent fail-safe plan: I phoned my Dad. Dad then donned his Super-Dad cape, ordered me down to Sparkasse to get some financial details and basically sorted everything out. I now have the means to pay my rent and everything in that sector is OK again. Phew!

Because I’d had such an abysmal morning, I decided to cheer myself up by taking a trip to the happiest place on earth: Ikea. It needed to be done, I had no sheets, no lighting, no mirror, no curtains, no hangers, no pots and pans, no anything, pretty much. But bad things come in threes, don’t they, and Sod’s Law not to be put off his course for my emotional destruction ensured I ended up getting the bus in the wrong direction. I had to sit for 45 minutes going round the loop before finally getting back on course.

Fortunately, the combination of Ikea and making my room look like someone actually lives in it had the desired effect. I’ve got rugs on the floor and photos on the wall and sheets on my bed, though I still need curtains and a main light (NB for people coming to Deutschland in the future – fully furnished doesn’t necessarily mean the same here as at home. Lighting and curtains are mostly considered your responsibility). Saturday picked up my mood even more; Handy-purchase went without hitch, unless you count the man in E-Plus trying to sell me a handset for over 90Euro, and my flatmate has rigged me up to his wireless until I sort my own internet so that I don’t have to pootle down to the internet café every time I need to check my emails. I did enjoy making friends with the guy who works there (we had a nice chat about crummy British weather – it would have been like being at home if we hadn’t have been speaking German) but I must admit it’s nice to be able to check Facebook in my PJs again. In addition, I start work tomorrow, something which is bound to keep me busy and stop me dwelling in self-pity, and I even have stuff to look forward to, like the zoo next weekend.

I think my goal this week is to try and stop being homesick. I need to start making the most of this opportunity and enjoying it. After all, I’m here for a while. It seems silly to waste it…

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*I’m atheist, saying “God bless ” feels wrong.

YA: Die Erste Woche

It´s been eventful, and I´ll tell you that for free.

As can be observed in the previous post, me and Natalie arrived in Cologne late Sunday night. It wasn´t the smoothest of trips. Our cases were massive, we were knackered and the taxi driver firstly tried to bugger off without me, and then afterwards chose to dump us infront of a very closed looking bulding, under the impression that it was the hostel we were seraching for, before recklessly driving away. Fortunetly the hostel was only a few doors down, but it´s the principle of the thing. Then followed a four flight struggled with aforementioned massive cases during which Natalie´s suitcase decided enough was enough and shed a wheel. It was, all in all, not a restful experience.

The next day meant a hundred yard stagger weighed down with our life´s possessions to Cologne Hauptbahnhof (Nat suffering more due to having to drag her case on only one wheel and endure mine, and later Lyndsay´s, laughter). We frustratingly bummed around the station in one of Germany´s most beautiful cities for a couple of hours (I imagine people would have got pissy had we decided to attempt to cart all our shizz round the Dom, or whatever) before meeting up with several million other prospective languages assistants and being bussed off to the middle of nowhere.

Because Haus Altenberg, the Fremdsprachassistent training compoud if you will, is miles away for ANYTHING. I think normally it´s probably used for Catholic summer camps or something because there´s a beautiful Cathedral next door, the existance of which they like to alert you to several times a day by ringing the bells really, really loudly and for a ridiculously long time. At 5.45 in the morning, too. You can imagine how we all enjoyed them. In fact, this monastry-like set up with the teeny tiny surroudnings was perhaps one of the most German places I´ve ever been, though I couldn´t quite shake off the feeling that it might be the set of a horror film.

Then there was the food. Oh God, the food. The first meal we were given was, and I kid you not, scrambled eggs with boiled potatoes and spinach. Well, attention Germans, because I have news: this is not a meal. Scrambled eggs should never be parted from it´s beloved brother, toast. Boiled potatoes shouldn´t be enjoyed outside of a roast dinner. Spinnach, well, spinnach just shouldn´t. Then there´s your concpet of portion size. Two spoons of rice and a scoop of chicken in watery sauce does not a curry make. And whilst we´re on the subject of curry, don´t make it out of what was apparently mashed Refresher sweets. To give Haus Altenberg credit, by the third day they had picked up their game by providing schnitzel and ice cream (not together). However, before that the cuisine receives a level of mediocre to poor.

With the lack of sleep enforced by a rigourous timetable and the ringing of those bloody awful bells combined with the mostly rubbish food and the far flung location, it was difficult to avoid conforming to Lyndsay´s theory that the whole thing was a social experiment designed to break us, with hidden cameras everywhere and millions of Germans sat at home watching and pissing themselves laughing. However, moaning aside, the course itself was actually very good. It was helpful and informative and gave us all the oportunity to mingle and meet other language assistants in our area. It was also really good fun, especially when the cost-price beers were flowing from the makeshift bar of an evening. If I could have ensured that it was schnitzel day every day, then I perhaps wouldn´t have wanted to leave.

But, I did, and so I have arrived in Duisburg, my German home-town for the next few months. I was met at the station by my teacher-mentor, who helped me with my stuff and came to the Studenwerk with me to sort the contract for my Studentenwohnheim room and generally saved my life. Then I went to my flat, which I´m sharing with two guys and a girl. The guys seem lovely; one is from Ghana and prefers to speak English -score! - and the other gave me a lamp, because I have no general utensils yet, including curtains or anything to provide me with electric light. I haven´t met the girl yet, but I´m sure she´ll be nice. I must admit, when I was left alone in my incredibly bare room I did cry a little bit. Just a litte, because I felt suddenly very small and far from home. But then I manned up, went to Anmelden, sorted my Bankkonto and got complimented on my German (with a Dutch twang, apparently) by an actual real life German.

Which brings me to now, sat in this internet cafe (I don´t have Internetanchluss in my room yet either) across from my new flat, feeling tired, scared, lost, excited, confused, tired again, hungry and just a little bit happy. The last week has been a whirl, today even more so. I´m sure tomorrow will be equally crazy. I´ll keep you posted.

YA: I've arrived!

Ok, so all blog posts from now on regarding the year abroad are going to be less about those pansy girly feelings and more about STUFF. In spirit of this, here is the STUFF that has happened to me already since my arrival in Deutschland. 

1) I discovered I cannot flag down a taxi.

2) When I eventually did, the taxi driver nearly drove off before I'd got in, and with the door wide open. 

3) The hostel in Cologne is lovely, and with shiny shiny free wifi, but our room is on the fourth floor, there is no lift and I have a lot of stuff. Hence I think I may now be nursing a small hernia. 

4) I have updated Facebook. Just because I'm in Germany now doesn't mean I'm going to change. 

So far, so good. Viva la Deutschland! 

YA: I Feel Better

So, I know I haven't blogged in a while. Soz about that. I meant to do a whole one about Shrewsbury Folk Fest, but the last two weeks have sort of slipped away from me in a haze of friends and family and goodbyes and I never seemed to find the time. Suffice to say it was a lovely weekend, Bellowhead are ace and you've probably been misjudging Morris Dancing all this time.

In regards to my year abroad, I'm pleased to report that all the nonsensical fear and upset from my last post has all but gone now, to be replaced with a much more rational feeling of excitement tinged with nervousness. I'm basically packed save the few odd essentials, I've bought some emergency teabags (because we all know the Germans can't handle to concept of a proper brew) and I'm planning to spend the rest of the evening writing a comprehensive vocabulary list for when I have to go open my bank account. I've even managed to overcome my stupid notion that I will be missing out on fun and games back home, and despite a half-hatched plan to fly to Edinburgh in April to see Tim Minchin* I am now prepared to take whatever the next eight and half months throws at me.

Sure, I've still got a couple of niggles. I've read my teacher textbook from cover to cover and now have less of an idea of how to be a teacher than before I even opened the bloody thing. I still haven't the foggiest idea what the accommodation I have paid for fully consists of beyond the fact that it's got a roof and four walls, and will not feel totally happy until I am sat in my room clutching my keys and working out exactly what I have to buy from Ikea.** Then there's the fact that Marmite will be less obtainable, Skype is hardly the same as a great big bear hug and I can't fit all my goddamn clothes into my goddamn suitcase!

But screw all these things for a moment, because right now, with just over 24 hours to go before I get on that plane, I'm feeling very good about the next exciting chapter in my life. It's going to be eight and a half months of sheer and unequivocal awesome. Bring it.

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*This may seem extreme, but it's Tim Minchin with a live orchestra, people! A live orchestra!
**As it's university accommodation, in my head it looks exactly like Crescent Flats, my first year halls. If the people are even half as lovely, I'll have landed on my feet.