pictures of Switzerland

at long last, my laptop is hooked up to the internet here in my new home :)

here are some pictures and hopefully a video of the fountain in Basel.

Switzerland

Well, this is officially it. This evening I take a bus to Bamberg and move into what will be my home for the next year. The kids are out of town visiting their grandparents so for a few days I get to settle in before everything begins. I am so excited and nervous and excited. Its strange to think that this really is the end of all my traveling. After the past 3 months its begun to feel as if I am a nomad or a gyspy which has been incredibly fun, but also tiring. I am weary of sleeping in different beds every night, eating pb&js or fast food all the time, and not being able to settle in to any of the relationships i make. I'm ready to have a home base, friends, a steady schedule. I'm really glad that I've had this opportunity, especially because I feel that it has in some way prepared me for the next year of aupairing--sort of helped me to get the wanderlust out of my system for a little while. 

Staying in Switzerland with the Stampflis was a nice end to a lovely trip. I haven't seen them since I was, oh I don't know...10 years old, maybe, but it was surprising how easy and natural it was to eat and spend time with them. They are a truly wonderful and warm family, and I'm really glad I got to reconnect with them. Ursula and Walter look exactly like I remembered them, and although it was a shock to see Marco and Evelyn grown up and not the little kids I used to play with, there are still shadows of that white-headed little girl and the boy with the huge smile. They live in a small suburb of Basel, which is only a few kilometers from the borders of France and Germany, and very cosmopolitan.

On Friday morning I went into town to see an exhibition at the one of the art museums, there(Basel is home to 12...) of VanGogh's landscapes throughout his life. It was a really amazing exhibition, especially because they also had a floor dedicated to landscapes by his contemporaries and friends, to show both the similarities and the depth of his originality. It was really nice since I hadn't got a chance to go to the VanGogh Museum in Amsterdam(always too crowded) to be able to see some of his works. 

Evelyn took me around Basel in the afternoon--showing me some of the "sights" and climbing to the top of the cathedral there with me. She is 17 now and in her last year of highschool. I really appreciated the fact that she took time to show me around and hang out with me without it ever feeling like a chore or like she was simply doing it out of hospitality. A lot of 17 year old girls I know wouldn't have been so open or kind. Therefore it was a really nice day, especially since the weather was beautiful and clear. We rode a ferry across the Rhein, which runs right through downtown Basel, and got chocolate covered nuts at one of the most famous chocolateries in town.

On Saturday I spent the whole day in downtown Basel, first going to the museum of modern art which had a couple really fascinating exhibitions. Later I sat by a fountain in downtown done by Jean Tinguely, a swiss artist, which is made up of 10 different robots made of scrap metal. Each different robot moves and shoots out water in its own way. If I can figure out how I'll post a video on here for you to see because it was really cool. In the evening there was this big free festival that's held in Basel every two years called the Jugend Kultur Fest. Its entirely focused around young people in Basel so there were theater, dance, art and music groups all from the area and all under 30. I went to a few shows early in the evening, and then decided to go to the Stadt Kino(City Theater) to see a showing of Trufaut's 1966 Fahrenheit 451 since it is one of my favorite books, he is one of my favorite directors, and it one of the only films he made in english. It was only the second time in my life that I've been to a movie theater by myself, and the experience was pretty magical. Something about the soft, warm seats, the darkness and the whisper of unfamiliar tongues--plus of course the fantastic film itself--really overwhelmed me.  Afterwards when I walked outside there was this huge crowd of screaming, drunk swiss teenagers waiting for one of the headlining concerts to start.  I decided to stick around and it ended up being this really good german rap group from right across the border. It was a really strange contrast for me to go from black and white art film to wildly jumping hip hop show, and it was great.

Sunday I slept in and then in the afternoon Marco and I rode bikes down into Basel and went swimming in the Rhein. You can get in on one end of the city and literally float all the way down through downtown. Of course, we only went about a third of the way, because it gets really crowded down towards the other end, but it was still really cool to let the current carry me past huge cargo ships and speedboats, watching the city slip by. Again I was really grateful to Marco for making me feel so at home, so entirely welcome. At first I had been a little nervous about staying with the Stampflis since I hadn't seen them in so long, and Marco, Evelyn and I had only really known each other as small children, but they took every opportunity to welcome me into their family.

On Monday Ursula and I went to an exhibit at an art museum in their suburb of Giacometti's work. Ursula is herself a very talented artist, and so it was really cool to go to an art exhibition with someone who was as much, if not more, interested in the subject than I was. They had a really great collection, including some of his early surrealist pieces that I'd never seen before, and even some pieces by his father and brother, who were also both talented artists. Later in the afternoon I went bike riding around Basel, and then in the evening we ate chocolate fondue for dinner!

Tuesday Walter was so sweet and bought me a train ticket that I could use to ride any train or boat or tram in Switzerland for the day. He even helped me plan out a route so that I would be able to see as much as possible in one day. I left early in the morning and went to Zurich. I only had a couple hours there, so I went to the Cathedral of Our Lady, there, which, besides its beautiful architecture, contains 3 stained glass windows done by Marc Chagall in 1970. Afterwards I went to Luzern where I ate lunch along the river and then took a boat ride all along the lake their which was just spectacular. That evening I caught a train to Bern and then back to Basel late at night. Although I only got to see a few things in each place, overall it was a really wonderful day and I really appreciated the opportunity to see a little bit more of Switzerland. The picture of the hazy alps rising up out of a clear blue lake still sticks with me. Although it was expensive, Switzerland was such a beautiful country that I hope I'll have the opportunity to go back. The Stampflis own a small cabin in the alps and they invited me to come with them next time they go. Hopefully it will work out with my schedule, because more than seeing the mountains(which I didn't realize how much I missed until I was surrounded by them) I would like to see the family again. Its not often that you get to spend time with such wonderful people.

Wer schreibt, der bleibt

The title of this post, which is also the slogan for Die Linke(The Left) political party in germany means, he who writes, remains. I like that, don't you? It seems particularly apt for me at this moment.

In the morning I catch a long and boring train all the way down Germany to Basel, Switzerland to visit the Stampfli's for a few days. I'm pretty excited, although I haven't seen them since I was six? seven? Ursula sent me a picture of what she looks like now so that I would recognize her at the train station and all I could think was that she looks exactly the same as I remember, which is comforting. 

Hamburg has been a surprisingly interesting and pretty city to visit. I came here, sort of out of obligation, since it seemed wrong to travel Germany and not visit its 2nd largest, wealthiest city. I have a couple friends from Hamburg, and had heard it was nice, but its not a big tourist hotspot like Paris or Amsterdam or Prague. In fact, most of the tourists here are from Germany. However now that I actually visited around I'm really glad I did.

On my first day I sort of wandered around on my own, taking in as much of this huge city as I could, and then went to a theater that showed movies in english and saw Public Enemies. I'd never been to a movie before by myself, which was kind of fun, especially since I was one of only about 10 people in the entire theater, and most of them seemed like Germans either trying to improve their english, or simply fed-up(as I am) of the poor dubbing job most english-language movies get here.

The second day I woke up early and took a really informative walking tour, which was nice since Hamburg is a bit spread out and it would've been so easy to miss a lot of the stuff we saw. 

One place in particular really struck me, which was the building that used to house the offices of the man who created and promoted Zyclon B. Now of course, it is a totally nondescript office building, completely anonymous except for one bronze plaque on the wall outside, and an empty Zyclon B container on a pedestal within. On the plaque, besides a historical note about the building and former occupant, is a quote reading, "...un nit varnicht die schlechte ojf der erd, soln sej varnichtn sich alejn!". At first I just figured it was some old-form of german I wasn't familiar with(although some of the words were familiar) until the guide explained that it was Yiddish. The translation is: Do not destroy the wicked of the earth, let them destroy themselves! I'm not exactly sure what about it struck me so deeply, but it reminded me of the story of the Dachau concentration camp survivors who came back years later to protest the living conditions of the people who had once imprisoned them. It is this idea of forgiveness that is neither passive nor permissive; a forgiveness that recognizes that people who hurt others hurt themselves so very much more in the end. It is an idea that aligns very closely with my own views on non-violence. It has nothing to do with being weak or overly-optimistic, rather it seems to me that harming people who do violence is superfluous--they harm themselves with every violent act they commit. Like Voldemort ripping apart his soul through murder, the salvation or strength gained through violence and hatred is only temporary, and always unequal to the cost. 

Later we went to the St. Nicholai memorial, which is the haunting ruins of Hamburg's gothic cathedral that was destroyed by bombing in 1943. Although they've cleared away the rubble, the skeleton of the church, including its tower, remains and now houses some beautiful sculptures as well as an information center. One of the sculptures is especially beautiful. Its named the Earth Angel and the inscription says "take my hand and let me lead you back to yourself" in five different languages around the base. I like that, too. It seemed to me that around every corner in Hamburg I found fascinating and beautiful and haunting places, graced with words. This city has reminded me why I believe so strongly in the power of words, and why I feel somewhat naked and unprepared when I haven't been able to write in a while. 

Both yesterday evening and this one I went down to the Sternschanze district, which is the University district, and ate at a really great little Italian place with good chianti, lit by an electric chandelier missing a few bulbs. It was nice to sit someplace beautiful, people watch and let the evening slip by. 

Today I ran some errands, bought my train ticket, and then went to the large park in the middle of town and read in the sunshine for awhile. Its nice, now that the countdown to the end of my trip has begun, to be able to relax and read a good book(I'm currently working through the german version of the 3rd Harry Potter as well as a hilarious novel I picked up called Pride and Prejudice and Zombies which is EXACTLY what it sounds like)

Oh, I almost forgot! Hamburg is on the banks of the Alster and Elbe rivers, right before they flow out into the North Sea. Its crisscrossed with all these beautiful little canals, and absolutely covered with shorebirds. In fact, all of the swans on the Alster are protected by law. It is illegal not only to kill, eat, or beat the swans but also to insult them, which is a little difficult considering how large and pushy they are, being used to friendly tourists feeding them...

Prague

I'm almost done traveling--less than a week and I'll be arriving in Bamberg and beginning a new chapter of my life. Looking back on the past three months, I feel like I've done and seen so much, that its easy to forget things--to let them blur into the background, become part of an endless stream of colors and shapes. Travel is beautiful and disorienting, uncomfortable in the best sense. Uploading the pictures from my camera today of Hamburg, I realized that I'd completely forgotten to mention my short stay in Prague. 

Since I already visited there a few years ago and did the "big stuff"--the castle, the cathedral, a boat cruise down the Vlatava-- this time around I wanted to try and visit some of the more out-of-the-way corners; to see things I might've missed the first time around. I also wanted my pace to be a little slower, to give myself time to relax and stretch out instead of rushing to try and see and do as much as possible in the little time I had. What I found was wonderful.

I met quite a lot of fascinating people there--both in my hostel and the one night I went "out on the town" including quite a few Australians, a Canadian Air Force pilot, an international Narcotics agent from Holland, and quite a few locals. I love the opportunity that traveling alone provides to make friends. Because you aren't with a comfortable group of friends, you are forced to go out and talk to people, to connect in ways you might not have if given the chance to sit back inside your comfort zone. 

On the one full day I had there to see the city, I went to the John Lennon wall which is this beautiful, ever expanding, graffiti mural dedicated to Lennon and the Beatles, which began when he was killed. While wandering around the back streets of Prague trying to find it, I happened across a fence, looking out over the Vlatava, covered in padlocks. I might've mentioned the tradition before that lovers, when they come upon a particularly lucky or romantic spot, lock a padlock around an iron fence to make their love stay. Anyways, there's not a lot more I can say that pictures couldn't say better, so...

My few days in Prague reminded me that what I really love about traveling is not being able to see the big flashy stuff-- the Eiffel Tower, the Berlin Wall-- but rather finding places and people and moments where I connect despite cultural and language barriers. It is so easy see the "sights" without really seeing; I am as much a culprit as anyone else. Yet sometimes I find something at it reminds me that there is an essential difference between vacationing and traveling. One vacations to sit on a beach or at a bar or in a hotel world and make the world's comforts come to you; one travels to step out beyond the easy or the known and find something real.

A few photos of Dresden...

Here are a few photos of beautiful Dresden. That's the newly renovated Frauenkirche, both inside and out, and me looking out on the Elbe river...

Dresden

Wow, what a jam=packed few weeks its been! I barely know where to start, now that I have a little time for reflection and reliable internet...

The week I spent in Dresden was absolutely amazing. The city itself is very beautiful, and I can only imagine what it must've looked like before the fire bombing destroyed so much. The Frauenkirche, Dresden's largest protestant church, was turned into a pile of rubble during the bombing and they only finished restoring it a few years ago. For many years during the Soviet occupation of East Germany it staid as a pile of ash and rubble in the middle of the city--perhaps as a reminder of the price paid, perhaps because the soviets simply didn't have the money or motivation to rebuild it. It is now, again, absolutely breathtaking. I can't wait until I can post of some of the pictures, because the restoration job they did was really wonderful. 

The other historic buildings in Dresden, especially the Palace and catholic cathedral along the Elbe River, were simply breathtaking. I'm a pretty big sucker for architecture but this absolutely blew me away. I had heard Dresden was beautiful but I really had no idea it would be so lovely. 

Of course, much of the city is home now to big block apartments, graffiti, convenience stores, and skyscrapers. It was so thoroughly destroyed that they simply couldn't rebuild everything and so instead chose to try and make something new. The contrast between the beautiful old buildings and the chunky, utilitarian new ones is striking and sad. Many other cities in Germany, such as Frankfurt and Munich, who were heavily bombed, were able to navigate their reconstruction better, perhaps because they were larger or in American controlled territory. Frankfurt chose to become entirely new, and it is now a very nice modern-looking city. Munich on the other hand, chose to restore absolutely as much as possible, and allows no sky scrapers within the inner-city. Dresden, perhaps because of economic and political reasons, is sort of stuck in the middle. Although it wasn't as uniformly beautiful as some other places I've been such as Paris and Prague, something about its disjointedness made me love it more--perhaps for very human it seemed. We are none of us either as modern or beautiful as we would like to be. Always in the middle, a little awkward, like Dresden.

While there, however, we did get to see the incredible 17th and 18th century jewel collection, which includes the largest green diamond in the world. Again I was simply amazed by the artistry and craftmanship of the jewelers, however one thing in particular really stood out to me. One of the most famous court jewelers of the 18th century in Dresden was famous for making miniature statues out of precious stones and metals. He was praised for his realism and attention to detail. His favorite subjects were homeless people, war veterans, and dwarfs. The museum had this incredibly large collection of tiny statues, perhaps 2 inches high, of blind men made of pearls, veterans wearing jade and ruby clothing, propping themselves up on ivory crutches, and beggars holding out delicately gnarled gold hands. It was...shocking. Shocking that it was so detailed and yet so detached. That a man could look at people in such poverty and pain, take the time to note their facial expressions, the misery in their eyes, and create portraits of them made out of jewels with no thought to the contradiction. Art can dehumanize as easily as it reaches out and pulls at our souls. It can turn us into impartial observers who ooh and ahh over the artistry and detail while we turn our cheeks to the poverty it not only illustrates but exacerbates. Art can make us blind.

My brain needs to be defragmented. I have simply seen and done too much for one post--I can't decide what to write and not write. I imagine all the tiny blinking squares of data(the sun glinting off golden church spires, neo-nazi graffiti, chocolate torte, walking in a rainstorm on slippery cobblestone streets) being slowly put into its proper place, collated and coordinated. I'll try to write more soon, once my brain is a little clearer on exactly what it wants to say. I hate not being able to write for an extended period of time--it drives me up the wall! I can't think right without words.

On my last night in Berlin Paula and her partner and I eat caviar and pickled herring on toast,salad with kalamatas and fresh mozzerella, drink red wine and tell stories. I've never had caviar before, or anchovies, but now I have. A good time for first things. 

Tomorrow is Dresden-- I'm so excited! I've somehow managed to completely lose my US power converter, so my camera is STILL not charged, and I'm seriously considering buying a disposable, because this is just unreasonable! I need to start paying more attention to my possessions. Its all well and good to see people and experiences as more important, but at some point you have to slap yourself around and say, Emma, being a good steward means remembering where you put things! I don't even have old age as an excuse!

Flohmarkt

If you're looking for Berlin, its right here every sunday morning, stretched out in the shade of the wall. Its called the Flohmarkt and its one of the last vestiges of the funky artsy underground street culture that has made Berlin such a unique city, but is also quickly disappearing with the advent of globalization. 

Meander past shabbily constructed tents, down labyrinthine alleyways, and prepared to get lost in a good way. You can find fountain pens, antique pocket watches, fresh fruit, bulk indian spices, (sometimes stolen) bicycles, t-shirts, purses, lamps, typewriters, jewelry made of legos, vinyl records, funky hats, and anything else you or someone else could conceivably want or need...and a few things that no one wants but someone is bound to buy anyways.

Possibly more interesting than the eclectic collection of stuff for sale, however, is the eclectic collection of shoppers. Its here where you really see Berlin in all its berlin-ness, coming out to enjoy the sunshine and find that perfect something. Old women, transsexuals, men with big beards, naked laughing children, sullen teenagers, hipsters, tourists, turkish grandmothers baking flatbread in brick ovens... look hard enough and you'll find angels. The sort of angels that exist only in Berlin, that city of contradictions.

The Flohmarkt stretches along Mauerpark which a huge field that runs next to the last remaining pieces of the Berlin Wall. Up next to the wall are swingsets where little kids laugh and down the hill a bit is a grungy basketball court where a pick-up game is constantly being played. At one end of the park stands a man with a DJ booth attached to his bike, at the other a local ska band--recently written about in one of the city's hip cultural mags--jams out. The electric bassist is a beautiful blonde girl, and the saxaphonist/singer, sans microphone, is skipping through the crowd as he plays. Everywhere people lie sprawled in clumps on blankets drinking cheap beer, eating some of the amazing ethnic cuisine to be found for staggeringly low prices inside the markt, or simply sleeping in the sun. On one side of the park, hundreds of people are crowded into the amphitheatre where a german girl is singing "I Will Survive", adding her own flourishes("go on now go...fuck off!...walk out the door") to resounding cheers. There are baton twirlers, jugglers, and dancers. 

How to describe the beauty and despair embodied here? The city is threatening to close Mauerpark...it tends to attract "undersirables" such as the homeless and drug addicts...and if it goes, so will the Flohmarkt. The flohmarkt is an explosion, a firework finale, of all the beautiful and strange that many of the more "upstanding" citizens of Berlin would like to do away with.

They don't get it. The wall has fallen yet there is still a "mauer im kopf" a wall inside the mind, that keeps many people(not only berliners) from realizing how desperately important such places of free cultural exchange are to the continued existence, not only of the city, but of the fragile new identity post-war germany has tried to create. It is the same attitude that objected to piercings and weird hair, lesbians and foreigners and loud teenagers, that put up the wall in the first place. Sure its weird and dirty and loud and disorganized. Sure its not the proper way for proper germans to act... its better, its more, its something altogether different.

At the flohmarkt I bought two vintage t-shirts and an Elvis Costello pin. My norwegian hostel roomate bought a box of 60-odd nibs(he collects fountain pens) and Paula shopped unsuccessfully for a couple bicycles to rent out and eventually settled for a new dress.

Yesterday Paula's partner came into town from Switzerland, where she works as an assistant professor of information systems at the University of Geneva. She has as many degrees as languages(that would be 4). Currently they are hanging a map on the wall so that people can mark off where they are from when they come to stay. We're drinking pink champagne and telling jokes. Paula tried to shoot the cork out of the open window and failed, making it ricochete across the room. I think: this is Berlin, this is it. 

It's right in front of you. Just look.

Oh wow, where to begin...

Last week I was in Munich, then Trier then Paris then Amsterdam and now Berlin. In the meantime I managed to lose my laptop, find it again, meet crazy people do crazy things...yikes! I don't know whether to try and catch up on here or simply start fresh, so as a compromise here is a list of the top 10 things i have done/seen since my last post.

1. children playing on swingsets next to the longest still standing stretch of the berlin wall while below them in the park, a man with a DJ booth attached to a bicycle blasts techno music 

2. the Eiffel tower lit up at night, sparkling with lights when the clock strikes midnight

3. wandering the streets of Amsterdam past midnight surrounded by casinos, "coffeeshops" and hookers, feeling safer than in any other city i've visited

4. my norwegian hostel roommate showing me how to write my name in elvish runes and translating Borges into norwegian for me

5. Montmartre.

6. catching the train from Ingolstadt to Munich and seeing a rainbow at twilight arching across the fields of hops and winking village lights

7. waking up to the sounds of Paris. waking up to the sounds of Berlin.

8. Listening to Paula my hostel hostess(the same as who i stayed with in June) play Leonard Cohen on guitar in the morning while we drink our coffee

9. the Amsterdam Pride parade whose floats literally float(the whole parade is made up of decorated boats on the canals)

10. finding my computer!!!

okay more to come...hopefully more frequently, as well(since i don't plan on losing my computer again any time soon!)

Tie me up/Unite me

Today is my last day in Trier, and my job at the MZT is officially over. I've got to say its pretty difficult to leave, especially since I feel as if the MZT was exactly the sort of place I would want to work at either here or in the States. 

On Sunday we cooked an "American style" Breakfast there which was a pretty big success. The food basically disappeared as we were setting it on the table and we were actually afraid we would run out before everyone got to eat! We made cheesy scrambled eggs, american bacon, fruit salad, pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Most of the people who came to the breakfast were germans, as its one of the programs that the MZT gears towards the german community here in Trier to try and get them to come and see what the center is all about, so that maybe they will be more interested in participating later. They also offer language classes in French, Arabic, Russian, Spanish, and English for the same reasons--once people walk in the door its very hard for them to leave. Moreover, part of creating a sustainable and tolerant community is providing services for everyone, not just those who are most oppressed. 

I scrambled up and cooked 60 eggs plus cheese which was hectic and fun, especially since I was jacked up on strong german coffee. Then I went in and sat down with everyone else who was eating and got to have a pretty interesting conversation with a german man who was taking one of the arabic language classes at the center. Afterwards the beginning german students from App gave presentations about America and American culture and we left.

Sunday evening was a pleasant counterpoint to the morning. Instead of cooking, we were cooked for. Instead of serving, we were served. We took a bus to Luxembourg to visit Dr. Kennedy's nephew who runs a high end designer jewelry company. When we first got there he took us to their showroom and let us look around. Let me tell you: if you are ever wondering how to win a girl over, take her into a room where all four walls are covered with beautiful jewelry and hand her a glass of champagne! Then he took us into smaller room and let us see the new sample collections that won't be available until next spring which was a really cool experience. I felt like I was on Americas Next Top Model or some other show like that. The jewelry itself was beautifully designed and very unique. Moreover, it is made in the Phillipines by an all-women factory because the designer is a woman and wanted to make sure that her company--whose entire purpose is to make women feel beautiful--also empowered and supported women. In the Phillipines, having a job--whether it be as a secretary or a jewelry artisan--gives women the ability to support themselves and their families and not be dictated by their male relatives. They can choose who to marry or not to marry at all, where to live, what to wear, etc...The designer herself lives in the Phillipines and regularly visits the factory to make sure that everything is going well, which I really appreciated. 

Afterwards we went to Angelo's(Dr. Kennedy's nephew) house and had a "BBQ"....uh...if you want to call lobster tails barbeque food! There was saffron rice, brie cheese, curried grilled chicken, fresh fruit, and more good wine than you could shake a stick at! Angelo's fiance, Serina, is from Iran and her mother, uncle and aunt were all there. Throughout the entire night Angelo and Serina walked around filling people's glasses and making sure everyone was having a good time. I got the opportunity to talk to an architect friend of theirs who lives in Luxembourg but is originally from Greece. She speaks fluent Greek, French, German and English and has been a vegetarian for 25 years. She was really funny and feisty and gave me recommendations of where to get good falafel in Trier!

However the highlight of my evening was definitely having the opportunity to talk with Serina's uncle who is a retired government advisor from Iran, before Ahkmenijad came to power. Although there was a pretty difficult language barrier because his english was so rusty, it was fascinating to discuss politics with someone so different from me. His wife was really adorable and in her even more broken english told me that she was really sorry she couldn't visit America, and I told her that I, too, was sad I couldn't come to Iran. We talked about the difficulties of creating cultural connections when governments are looking out only for their self-interests and the interest of gaining more power, not for their people. We discussed both american politics(is Obama a good president? can we tell yet after only 6 months?) as well as Iranian politics(the recent election, Mussavi, the riots, Ahkmenijad's regime) and also the issue of creating world politics and dialogue when people are coming from such diverse backgrounds and experiences. 

After we finished talking one of my friends came up to me and said, "wow, I'm glad you finally escaped that." 

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "That was the most interesting man I've talked to all night."

He didn't believe me. Which is why he certainly wasn't the most interesting person. However, it is really sad to me to see people missing opportunities to learn something new simply because the person who could teach them is older, or from another country or something. Although I know something about Iranian politics and culture, I certainly know a lot more, now. Moreover its always fascinating to discuss the world with someone who has lived in it for decades longer than myself. It is so easy to be shortsighted.

Anyways, today we are going to a wine tasting in the oldest wine cellar in germany, built when Trier was the capital of the Western Roman Empire. Then tomorrow morning early we get on a bus and go to Munich for a few days. We'll be visiting Neuschwanstein, Dachau(again), the Eagle's Nest, and some other cool places so hopefully I'll have some good pictures for you!

the ties that bind

It always amazes me the way community is created out of such tiny moments, seemingly insignificant actions. Yesterday during the break from class I sat and drank coffee in the kitchen with 4 generations of women from 4 different countries. Naturally we talked about babies. 

Blanky(Blancarosa) is 65 year old woman, orginally from Peru. Her and her husband have lived here in Germany for many years but her accent is still strong. She wears a lot of eyeliner and touches your shoulder constantly when she speaks. She is taking the free language class because her children are gone, her husband is sick, and she's lonely. Oh, and she wants to practice her german, too. 

Fatima comes from Algeria and wears a headscarf. She is graceful and demure, in her late thirties, and has two children. She seems like the poster child for what a proper muslim wife should be, but if you take her on surface value you will miss so much. She is strong and opinionated, intelligent and well-read. Her children are her life, but she also has a strong sense of self. She wants to be able to go to the doctor alone, to grocery shop and make friends in her neighborhood without the help of her husband who speaks much better german. When we talk about subjugation of women in muslim countries--specifically Iran and Syria--she gets angry. She doesn't understand how men can be so fundamentalist as to not allow their women to go out alone or do anything in mixed company. There are muslims, and then there are muslims she says.

Sena is from Morocco. She is in her early twenties, married, and pregnant with her first child. She wants twins, but maybe not for a long time after this one(a boy). Blanky and Fatima laugh at her; everyone says they don't want more children after the first one but then... Sena and Fatima chat in french and persian when they don't know the right words in german. Their hands move like butterflies.

Johanna is 28 and she's not sure about kids. Her mother keeps asking her about it--if you have a child will you raise it catholic or muslim?--and Johanna doesn't know. Her and her husband don't have much money; they work all the time. Johanna says that one of her friends back in Poland is also 28 and already has 9 children. One a year since she was married and then twins at the end. I look at her and I think, I'm 28, too she says I can't believe it. Nine children! No way. Blankie pats my arm. I tell her I don't think I want marriage or children and she pats my arm some more. Of course, of course she says, You're young. But later?

We talk about birth control and family planning, C-Sections vs. natural birth. How many children is good to have(2-3 is good, 5 is too many). We talk about sex. Despite age, religion and language we are women. Everywhere always it is the same. Johanna's mother doesn't really accept her husband because he is muslim; Blanky's daughter is dating a bum. Sena's husband wants a lot of children(yeah right, she says. He's not the one who has to do the work!) We talk about gender roles, and independence, about sexual violence. When we talk about women who are not allowed by their husbands to take language classes in mixed company, or from a woman who doesn't wear a headscarf(Kopftuch) everyone is irate. Religion is a personal choice says Fatima.

From time to time one or another of the boys from language class walks in to grab a coffee cup. They see the gaggle of women leaning over the small table laughing and quickly leave. I don't know what it is about kitchens and coffee that bring women together. Maybe its just coincidence.

In Germany the difference between sleeping in the same house as someone and having sex is a mere preposition.Using bei or mit changes the entire meaning of your statement. One of the younger boys, Abdullah, comes in crying with a bright red cheek. What's wrong? asks Johanna. Though tears he explains: Abdullah is only 14 and he has a girlfriend. It was her birthday and so he went to her house in the morning, because she was having a sleep over that night. He wanted to ask her father if he could stay. Unfortunately language barriers got in the way. Instead of politely and respectfully asking if he could spend the night along with the other kids, Abdullah walked up to this protective german father and told him point blank that he wanted to have sex with his daughter. Little word, big mistake. We make sympathetic noises and tell him it will be okay. Johanna explains the difference between what he meant and what he actually said. She tells him to go buy some flowers and apologize. After he leaves he kitchen we burst out laughing. 

Trauma and Community

Thursday was a particularly fascinating and difficult day at the MZT. When I walked in that morning at 10 Johanna, who was running around more stressed than ever, told me that last night one of the boys had tried to commit suicide. It is not particularly unusual, but still extremely difficult not only for the other boys but also for all the people(like Johanna) who are trying so hard to help them, because sometimes everything is just too overwhelming. After all, he is only 15. Later in the day she and the other teacher sat me down and explained what had happened in more detail so that I would be better able to understand the climate in which these boys live and try to succeed. Here are only a few stories...

To get your child out of Afghanistan costs 10,000 euro and it is naturally a gamble. First the child(in this case a son) must go to Greece, or another of the nations that rings Germany but is on the fringe of EU politics. In order to get into Greece the boy, no matter his age, must tell the authorities that he is 18 years old or they won't let him in. When two or perhaps three brothers go together, they are oftentimes split up while in Greece because either the parents don't have enough money for all of the boys to go at the same time so one has to wait behind, or because there is not enough room for both to travel together on to Germany. Without cell phones or forwarding addresses, once split up it is usually assumed that one will never see one's brother again.

Once a boy gets to Germany he needs to convince the authorities there that he is not actually 18 as he said in Greece or they will not allow him into the country. Germany has a policy which says that any child can stay until he is 18 years old but after that point they must either have finished highschool and have a job, be adopted by a German family, or return to their home country. Moreover, if someone comes as a refugee who is already 18 and they have first landed in another country(like Greece) Germany will refuse to take the person and instead tell them to go to Greece for asylum, however Greece being much less developed and having fewer social services is ill-equipped to deal with young refugees. 

When B and J got to Greece with their brother they were split up. B and J made it to Trier safely, papers and all, but their brother did not. They assumed he was dead. Two days ago, they found him in Munich. However, because their brother came on a different boat and wasn't aware that he needed to tell the German authorities he wasn't actually 18, they are now threatening to send him back to Greece, or possibly even to Afghanistan. He is already 17(B is 15, J 16) so he has only a few months to get all of his paperwork straightened out before he will leave. The clock ticks. Because J and B have already been accepted into Germany as refugees, they have more time and will be able to stay. Moreover, because they have the same paperwork as their brother, if they can get to Munich it will be easier to convince the authorities their that their brother should be allowed to stay, but it is a gamble.

How much stress can a 15 year old take? What is his limit? For B it was this: having lost first his homeland and then his brother, to find his brother only to lose him again was intolerable. Death was better abandonment. He simply could not take the pressure, the idea that if he could not make it to Munich in time to show the Germans his paperwork so that they would allow his brother to stay in the country it would be his fault when his older brother was sent back to Greece or Afghanistan(a death sentence). People who have been working with young asyls for awhile will tell you that you get 3-4 months of strength, courage and optimism before everything crashes. 3-4 months to find them a stable home, get them learning german and in school, and find them some form of counseling before everything crashes. B had been in Germany almost exactly 4 months to the day when he found out about his brother.

Johanna is buying him a ticket to Munich but he is scared to go alone. His older brother J still has a few more weeks of school left. When I saw him in class on Thursday he smiled at me but his eyes were red. For him, the situation is especially hard because to lose first one brother to beaurocracy and then another to suicide would be a double blow. All of the boys are affected. Having lost or left their families, the family they create here in the student or foster housing is especially important. Regardless of language or religion they are brothers, and one brother's pain reminds them all how fragile their situation is.

Thankfully, there is hope for B, J, and their brother in Munich. There is not much time, but Johanna is optimistic that they will be reunited and able to complete school and then live as adults in Germany. For others the situation is not so good.

Many of the boys who escape to Germany end up in mental hospitals. The trauma is too much. One Iraqi boy saw his entire family killed by a car bomb; only he survived. He had to identify his father, sister, and mother, but was only able to find one of his mother's feet. In Islam, one is not allowed into heaven incomplete; all pieces must be present. Having been able to find only one foot, he was convinced that not only had he lost his mother in life, he had lost her in death as well. The responsibility of her loss--his guilt at not being able to find all of her, to put her back together(and in a sense, put himself back together) broke him down. He survived, but what is survival when one's mind is gone? He was only 16 when he came to Germany. That is too young to deal with such loss.

T has been cutting himself. He's stopped coming to class. He knows that he's going to die soon.He has an IQ of 141. T comes from Vietnam. He was smuggled out of the country by family friends after his entire family was murdered and their house burned, probably by the Vietnamese Mafia but he's not sure. His highschool in Vietnam has no record of him existing, and his old neighbors don't know his name. There is no official record of his parents' death. T is 17 years old. In 8 months he will be 18 but he won't finish school for at least another year. Because he has no school records from Vietnam he had to start at the beginning, but for the past two years he has been at the top of his class. Helpful, reliable, quiet and polite, T could be a posterchild for successful azyl integration. But when T turns 18, everything ends. Having not finished school he is unable to find a job. Without a record of his parent's death, he cannot legally be adopted. When the police come, pull him out of class, and take him to the airport to send him back to Vietnam he is going to die. The same people who killed his family will kill him, too. There is nothing to be done. T can speak for languages and fix any computer you put in front of him. His IQ score puts him in the genius category. When he smiles you can see a small gap in his teeth. The other boys who live with him have started saving their money, taking up a fund. They want to give him something so that when he leaves for Vietnam, maybe he will be able to buy himself some time. It is a futile but beautiful gesture; after all, they're brothers now.

If the boys are brothers, then their mothers are Johanna and Maria, the two language teachers. The call them each Mama. The office is always hectic because Johanna is constantly being interrupted by one or the other of them showing off a new haircut or complaining about a disagreement with another boy. They each have her personal cell phone number and she often gets calls at 3 in the morning. Drinking coffee during a break from class Thursday morning all of the boys are laughing and she tells me why: The other day a group of them were walking around downtown in the evening smoking shisha--flavored tobacco. A policeman came up to them(much like the states, it is not uncommon for groups of young immigrants to be hassled by the police) and asked them if they had any Marijuana. Of course! they said, Maria!Johanna! we know all about them. Of course the policeman freaked out, started searching all of them and when he found nothing asked them where their Marijuana was. MariaJohanna are at the school they said. This really made the policeman's eyes bulge. They were on the verge of being arrested when, in their broken german, they were able to explain that Maria and Johanna are their teachers. None of them knew what Marijauna was. In Afghanistan its called Hashish.

It is this mix of laughter and trauma that is the most overwhelming for me. It is impossible to step back, to disconnect, to see these boys as cases or issues or problems to be solved. They are inimitably, undeniably human. It is what makes their successes so exciting and their pain so heartbreaking. They are so young and there is so little hope or opportunity for successful integration. 

Last year on Germany's version of American Idol it came down to two finalists--one a natural-born German, and the other an immigrant from Columbia. The Columbian man could play guitar beautifully. He sang and wrote all of his songs in german and had been living in Germany for years. When it came down to the final choice, the judges told him that although he was technically the more talented of the two, he simply wasn't german enough to represent Germany as their Pop Idol. They wanted someone white. Unfortunately most of these beautiful, funny, annoyingly goofy boys will never be german enough for germans. They will survive here, as they have survived in much worse, but is survival enough? Johanna is polish and a Catholic. Her husband is a Muslim from Algeria. Slowly the climate in Germany is changing. Intermarriage and tolerance are becoming more common, but it is such slow work. 

Multiculturellen Zentrum Trier

A quick note before I begin this post: for the next month I'll be using this blog as part of one of my courses here, so it might get a little boring(i hope not) for those of you who aren't my professor and aren't giving me a grade. Anyways...

Yesterday was my first day at the Multiculturellen Zentrum Trier which is both extremely similar and extremely different to the Evangelische Aussiedlerarbeit. They offer many of the same programs--language courses, integration courses, international meals, etc-- but the general office environment is completely different. It seems as if the MZT is always busy, not disorganized necessarily, more like humming. Most of the people working there are volunteers and the office is crowded and cluttered and friendly. 

In the small room where I sat while Johanna taught an integration and language course sat teenagers from almost every continent. Afghanis, Iraqis, Namibians, Brazilians...most of them under 18 years old. Over half had been in Germany less than a year. The course is specifically designed for Azyls-- young people seeking asylum or who come from war-torn areas, many of whom are also orphans. We talked about breakfast. The small room was barely enough for the large table and twenty or so chairs squeezed around it. Conversations in multiple languages bounced off the walls, or more often in some sort of mix between german and something else. 

During the break around 11 we all crowded into the kitchen for coffee...strong coffee. I took a sip and puckered my mouth, Johanna laughed. We have three different kinds of coffee, here she said, Fabian coffee, Abdulah coffee, and normal coffee. When Fabian makes the coffee i pour a little hot water in my cup to water it down. When Abdulah makes it, I pour a lot. Abdulah is from Afghanistan. He is 16 and has lived in Germany for 6 months in a house with other refugee teens. I don't know if his parents are dead or were simply unable to leave. One of the other Iraqi boys asked me which city was cooler, DC or Kabul. I said I didn't know since I'd only been to one, but that my father is in Kabul now, working and that I had heard it was beautiful, which made them laugh. It was strange to be literally looking at the consequences of american occupation in the face. 

The language/integration course for Azyls is fairly special considering that most integration courses are only focused on people who come to Germany by choice and plan on staying. Azyls often get lost in the cracks because they either do not have the time or the resources to take a long course, nevertheless they still need to know how to order food, fill out paperwork, and get around town. Today as I was reading some literature about the history and pedagogy of the MZT I found out that beyond this course, they also offer a class for people who because of caste and or conflict never learned to read or write. Before they learn german, they have to learn their own speech. German grammar is no joke, but when you don't even know what grammar is... I was really impressed that the people at the MZT had taken this into consideration and actually offering that sort of course. I think it shows a sort of attention to detail that reveals the depth of care and concern they have for foreigners or whatever sort who have come to Germany. They even have volunteers who go along with people when they have to go to the hospital or a government bureau to help them understand the paperwork and make sure that they get everything done correctly and aren't overwhelmed or confused, which is often a major reason why recent immigrants don't seek out the various forms of government aid available. 

One thing that particularly impressed me about the MZT was also their strong commitment to anti-racism and sexism. Of course, being a multicultural center they're all about tolerance...but they have actually organized and participated in large protests against the NPD(neo-nazi party) and also demonstrated against the policy of jailing illegal immigrants(I saw a poster that said kein mensch ist illegal which means "no person is illegal." i liked that.) Considering my own personal political views, I tend to get jaded or cynical when people talk the talk but don't actually, you know...do anything. It impressed me that the MZT was sort of attacking the problem from both ends-- promoting tolerance and integration through positive programs that help immigrants integrate and help the greater community to be more accepting while also taking a firm stance against neo-nazism and other forms or discrimination. 

Next Sunday I'm helping to organize an american breakfast at the MZT. Every month they have a different group cook traditional breakfast food and also give some sort of presentation about their home culture. Since the other language students who are on this trip have been doing presentations about America  and american culture in different schools around town as part of their coursework, Dr. Kennedy(my professor) worked it out so that we could do the breakfast this month. Of course, they don't sell grits or american-style bacon here, so we may have to improvise, but I'm pretty excited. I get to be in charge of figuring out whose going to cook what and then making sure all the ingredients get bought in time. Since no stores are open sunday and many aren't really even open saturday its going to be an adventure. I think it will be pretty fun to watch the beginning german students from app meet other beginning students from all over the world over the breakfast table. 

One thing I'm particularly excited about this trip is that I feel like I'll be able to do some more hands-on stuff than I did last month since, similar to american non-profits, the MZT seems to be constantly looking for volunteers. I may even get to help out with an english course! 

city of my heart

Well, after an exhausting but worthwhile week in the states, I am back in Germany, this time in Trier. Thanks to Air India I have no clean clothes, but hopefully my bags will be showing up today! I'm currently sitting in my favorite coffeeshop(free wireless!) while a massive flash-storm sends sheets of rain down outside the windows. It was so sunny half an hour ago that I had to stop in a store and buy sunglasses. Funny how things change. 

Trier, being the first city in Germany I ever visited, is in many ways my gold standard for what german really means to me. Like a first kiss or first car, everything new I learn or experience about Germany is judged against Trier--its winding streets and fountain-filled courtyards, its history, its people. I am staying in the same Hostel I stayed in last summer, on the same school program with the same professor, using the internet at the same coffeeshop and eating late-night pizza at the same cheap pizza joint(although they've moved to a location closer to my hostel!). I like the familiarity, I like knowing my way around without a map. I like how everything feels like home.

Trier is one of the oldest continuously-populated cities in Germany, dating back to the Roman Empire. Actually, before Constantine built Constantinople, Trier was the capital of the Western Roman Empire. Pretty cool. People daily dig up roman coins and artifacts in their backyards; you can still visit the amphitheater. Later on in the trip we will be once again visiting the oldest wine cellar in Germany which is over 2,000 years old. Coming from America, a country barely 300 years old, its sort of mind boggling to think that people have been living in one place for that long, but something about that permanency provides a measure of peace. If civilization has managed to survive on this patch of dirt for centuries, any problems I might face(no shampoo? no cell phone charger?) can't be that bad. Regardless of the weather I will survive and grow here, if not for 2,000 years, at least for the next 4 weeks.

Tacheles Artist Squat

Berlinische Gallerie

Bamberg and Aupairing

Bamberg was really lovely. I guess there's a reason its a UNESCO World Heritage Site, no?
My family, the Sherbaums live RIGHT downtown--barely a five minute walk from the University, the Alte Rathaus, and the other beautiful, famous parts of the city. Their apartment is large and full of musical instruments and books.

Anna is a museum curator working at the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nuernberg. She is currently organizing a program called Kunst in der Kalter Krieg(Art during the Cold War). Her husband is an archaeologist and plays guitar and bass. One entire room in the apartment is devoted to his guitars, basses, and the piano that their daughter plays...pretty sweet. Cosima who is 9 plays piano, does Akido, has read all of the Harry Potter books and sort of reminds me of myself at that age. She is sweet and friendly and offered to lend me her Harry Potters when I told her that I had started reading the series in German. Her little brother, David, is a pretty typical 5 year old boy. He is loud and climbs on things, slightly spoiled and very affectionate. This fall he will be starting first grade and it is a very big deal. We played with his Sea Creature trading cards after dinner...

I got to Bamberg in the afternoon, and after coffee we walked around the city and they showed me some of the more famous stuff. Then we ate dinner, along with the older son from Mr. Sherbaums previous marriage who is 25 and lives in London, but is here for the summer, as well as their current summer-aupair who speaks no german whatsoever(good thing all the adults are fluent english speakers here!). After dinner I played with the kids for a little while, and then took the train back to Ingolstadt.

I'm not exactly sure how life will be for the next year with them. I think it will be great, but then again I was just visiting, not working. They do have land up in the mountains nearby with an apple orchard and Anna said that many weekends they take the Range Rover(in the city they drive a little compact bc the roads are so small) up there for a day or two so the kids can play outside. I think that Cosima and I will be very good friends and that David will be a handful, which is good because at least I won't be bored, and I certainly won't have time to get homesick!

There is also the possibility of me taking language classes while I'm there. The Fachhochschule(Community school) offers very cheap(€30) language classes once a week, but at Uni Bamberg there is also a very intensive course--five days a week, 3 hours a day--that is required for any foreign student wanting to study at a german university, that is signifcantly more expensive(€700), but also significantly better. Both places are a five minute walk or bike ride from my house.

Berlin

So I'm in Berlin for a couple days, leaving tomorrow morning. I got in yesterday afternoon and checked into my hostel which is tiny and beautiful and located over a bike shop. The lady who runs it is a british transexual. Perfect. Exactly the kind of place for me. Berlin is the kind of city where you get lost and don't want to be found.

In the morning I went to the Berlinische Gallerie which is a gallery devoted to contemporary German artists. They had a beautiful exibition on artists dealing with time, and also a cool retrospective of this german political artists. Once I get back to Ingolstadt I'll upload the few pictures I took before the security politely told me I had to pay for a photography pass.

After the BG I rode the U-Bahn up to Orangienburger Tor and checked out the largest, oldest artist squat/commune in Berlin called Tacheles. Its located in this old department store building and has been there since the 70's. The graffiti on the stairs going up was AMAZING as were the artists and their studios...I wish I'd had a day or a year to spend inside, instead of an hour. When I was done wandering around inside I went across the street to a place called Dada Falafel and had some of the best and cheapest falafel...well, ever. 

After lunch I hoped on the bahn again and went to the Neue StadtGallerie which currently has an exibit of surrealists and abstract impressionism from a very comprehensive private collection. They had everyone...Ernst, Magritte, Pollock, Dali, Frida, Diego Rivera....basically everyone and anyone that mattered to the movements. Really, really well done. 

After arting myself completely out, I wandered around a huge flea marked selling persian rugs, fur coats, leiderhosen, old books, nintendo games, antique furniture, balalaikas, wigs and silver spoons, to name a fraction of the selection! I bought a really cute tan felt hat that I think is called a cloche but then again I'm terrible with names. Unfortunately because it was already late in the afternoon, a lot of the booths were starting to close up, but it was nice to rifle through stacks of old postcards and photos and check out all the old VHS tapes of american movies dubbed into German. 

Anyways, I grabbed a cup of coffee at a little cafe and then headed back to the hostel for a shower. Tonight I'm going out for curry and a pina colada with the Paula(the owner) and some of the other guests here. I really wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow morning, and am seriously considering coming back to Berlin in august and staying here again. 

The more I experience in Berlin the more I love it. It seems as if around every corner is a cool market or cafe or art gallery or vintage store if you're willing to be a little adventurous. I like how easy it is to meet people, how many different sorts of people there are here, how easy it is to find a place that feels like home, or what you would want home to be. If I ever end up living in Germany more permanently, it will be in Berlin, especially since the rent here is the basically the cheapest of any European metropolis. 

Anyways, I take the train tomorrow morning to Bamberg to meet the Scherbaums, my aupair family in the fall. They are picking me up at the train station and then we'll spend the afternoon together before I go back to Ingolstadt.  I can't believe I have such little time left here! Tuesday night I'm going to see a punk show at a club in Ingolstadt(so excited!) and then Thursday morning my hostfather is driving me to the airport in Munich. Where have the past five weeks gone?

Dachau

Yesterday we went and toured the Dachau Concentration Camp, which was the first Concentration Camp ever built. It was, as expected, incredibly sad. Thousands of people suffered and died there--from starvation, overwork, abuse, medical experiments and extermination. It is impossible to find and accurate number as the SS, who kept meticulous records, omitted the deaths of anyone who they saw as sub-human--which included over 4,000 russian political prisoners and every Jew that died after 1942. Nevertheless it is enormous. We took a tour and saw a reconstruction of one of the dormitories where they had set up the number of beds that would've been present in 1933 when the camp opened, then 1938, 1942, and finally 1945. The number jumped from something like 55 in the beginning to, in some dormitories, over 2,000 by the time the camp was liberated. 

I think what surprised me the most about Dachau was how hollow it all felt, how empty, as if there had been so much sadness that the very walls had become desensitized, immune. After all, its only buildings, now. The gas chambers, the ovens, the overcrowded dormitories, the electrical fence on which many chose to die of suicide rather than starvation... it was overwhelming. 

While there we saw large tour groups of both schoolchildren and German soldiers, both of whom are required to tour at least one camp at least once in their lifetime so that it cannot be forgotten or denied. I wish America would do the same thing for our atrocities...but where would we go for tours? To the Native American reservations that still exist? To the Japanese internment camps that were torn down so that we wouldn't have to remember that we, too, held innocent people in cages, perhaps the storefronts that for years wore signs reading NO COLOREDS ALLOWED? How about the fence on which Matthew Shepard, a gay man, was tied up and brutally beaten to death? 

Unfortunately our mistakes have either already been swept under the rug or are ongoing. As the resident winners, we have the luxury of forgetting our mistakes(and therefore repeating them...Gitmo comes to mind). In a way, it is a mercy that the Germans aren't allowed that option. Right across the fence from the Dachau memorial site are normal apartments. People live in Dachau, their patios look out across the long fields were gray dormitories used to stretch. Nevertheless, the Nazi regime and the second world war are not common dinner table topics. In fact, they are almost never discussed outside school. It is simply to painful for people to face daily the knowledge that their people, their country(sometimes their family) caused such an incredible atrocity. Germany was a highly-industrialized, modern, developed nation at the beginning of World War II. Progress does not always equal civilization. Civilization does not always equal civility. Progress simply allows us to distance ourselves from the emotional and psychological consequences of our actions. 

It is easy to look at the actions of others and see morality as a thick, black line. It is only when we examine ourselves that the line grays, blurs. Modern german citizens, faced daily with that thin, gray line-- the line between mother and monster, grandpa and nazi often look away. It is a choice they cannot make. I cannot say that, placed in the same position, I wouldn't feel the same. We are all capable of horror. It is what makes us beautiful, no? That are good choices, our loving choices, our human choices, are irrevocably wrapped up in our wrongs. On the Statue of the Unknown Prisoner is says, "The dead to be honored, the living to be reminded". He stands casually, hands in his pockets, head upheld-- a sharp contrast to the pictures of the camp prisoners standing at attention for hours on end, heads bowed. It is a beautiful memorial to the human spirit--the spirit that looks daily, hourly, into the awful darkness of its own heart and yet somewhere, somehow, finds light.

Found an interesting quote in the book of Borges short stories that mom bought me for Christmas:

"Other nations live innocently, in and for themselves, like minerals or meteors; Germany is the universal mirror which receives all, the consciousness of the world(das Weltbewusstsein)."

Interesting, considering that it was written after WWII by Borges, who was severely opposed to anti-semitism and the Nazis. 

the unmelting pot

Life in Germany moves at a much slower pace than in America. Everyone has time to cook dinner, and most days we take a break in the afternoon for coffee. This is both refreshing and disconcerting for me, who was used last semester to days where I rarely had time to grab food on the go between school and work. However, it means that I am speedily making my way through the books I brought with me, and actually have time to keep a daily diary for the first time in...years?

Last week I job shadowed a Social Worker who works mainly with young people who are immigrants or come from immigrant communities. It was fascinating. Much like the southern US where there is tension between "natives" and hispanic immigrants/migrants, there exists here cultural/racial/religious tension between native Bavarians and the turkish/moslem community. Bavaria is an extremely conservative part of Germany. Bavarians consider themselves Bavarian first, and German second(and only really when talking to internationals). Bavaria is something like 80% Roman Catholic, and that culture is deeply ingrained in everything from food to school schedules. It is no wonder that that comes into conflict with the also deeply proud and culturally defined Turkish immigrant community here. 

However, it saddens me to see this country, which has worked so hard on creating tolerance and acceptance after the horrible events of WWII in many ways fall back into the same old ruts. Germans are a proud people, which is part of what makes them distinct and beautiful, yet pride is dangerous. After nearly 60 years of the Guest Worker program being in affect, the government and social organizations have only in the last 5-10 years started to address the issues that arise when two completely different cultures and religions collide. On one side of Ingolstadt we visited a middle school with a 5% immigrant population. On the other side of town, near the neighborhood where I work, the school is almost 100% immigrant. The segregation is in many ways voluntary for both communities--many Turkish families see themselves as Turks first, Germans second, and there are families who have lived here for 3 generations who still speak only Turkish. Nevertheless, it is segregation. 

Moreover, this voluntary distance between cultures and peoples only serves to hurt the children who are growing up in an increasingly globalized world. At the KinderCafe last week there were children from Russian, Turkish, and Kazak backgrounds. As long as everything went well they were friends--helping each other learn new german words, sharing food and cleaning tasks-- but at the first sign of trouble or conflict, they immediately broke down into family/culture groups. Gangs are a serious problem for the older ones. There is little hope for the bright future that the German public education system(fantastic and nearly free through the completion of University) offers. 

In Germany there are two choices for Highschool. If one has good grades, one can go to Gymnasium and be on track for University studies. If one has poor grades(or poor german and english speaking skills) one goes to Hochshule to learn a career. Most of the kids I work with will barely make it through Hochshule, despite their obvious intelligence, because they lack the motivation, language skills, and familial support to make the necessary grades for Gymnasium. In this, Germans--whether native or immigrant--are doing their children a gross disservice and participating in a vicious cycle that keeps immigrants from every fully integrating and contributing to the greater society. 

However, there is hope. The woman I job shadowed was an inspiration. She saw her job as working AROUND the beaurocracy and contradictions inherent in the system because her goal is to help these children. She is very good at her job. I can only hope that there are more social workers like her.