No sex, please, we're American.

This morning, I was in the kitchen eating breakfast and half-listening to the radio when something caught my attention. The local radio station does that sort of trivia game, where a listener who answers a general knowledge question correctly wins a pair of tickets to something or other. This morning, the question was about an American cartoonist - whose name was unfortunatly included in one of the halves where I wasn't listening - who drew mainly for children, but who caused an uproar in the States when he published some pornographic drawings. The question was, which European county still follows the U.S. in (officially) banning this artist's work? Or, as the announcer put it, which country is "as prudish as the Amis"? (It's the U.K., which the third caller guessed correctly).

The question, particularly the way it was phrased, struck me as interesting. I'd heard beforehand that Americans have a reputation for being prudish. During the whole Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, people pointed out that European leaders openly have mistresses, and no one gives a damn. And during my T.A. orientation in September, somebody asked what the best approach was if we were going over a text with the students and came to a sexually explicit passage - how we should handle it. After we all considered that for a moment, one of the other T.A.s said, "I don't think the Germans spend as much time worrying about that sort of thing as we do." Which made the group laugh.

It's true, though. People sunbathe in the nude in public parks here, and if you want to buy porn, you don't have to go hunting that far for it. And, like I've said before, the mayor is openly gay - when his party was re-elected last September, the papers all showed a picture of him and his life partner at a celebration - and it isn't really a big deal.

But what I heard on the radio also hit a little closer to home. I did my laundry last night. The washing machine is in the bathroom, and we (like most of environmentally-friendly Europe) don't have a dryer, so we hang up our clothes on a rack in the hallway. And I realized while I was pondering this question of American prudishness that I've never hung my underwear to dry in the hallway. My jeans and tops are there as we speak, but I hang my underwear to dry on the chairs in my room, so that laundry day in my room looks a bit like someone had a laundry-scented orgy.

Why do I do this? My roommates hang their underwear in the hall with their other clothes, and it's not as if I advert my eyes in shame whenever I see it. And I bought a new batch of underwear before I came, too, so it's not as if what I have is all full of holes or not fit to be seen. It's about as inoffensive as black cotton gets.

I guess the thought of my underwear hanging out for all to see just strikes me as odd. In that sense, I feel (which isn't always true, in both good and bad senses) very typically and prudishly American indeed.

Naked sunbathing is probably not something I should try just yet.

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

I've had the song "My Favorite Things" stuck in my head for the last three days. I find myself whistling it as I walk and humming it while I'm trying to work on lessons for next week.

What's the bit right before "warm apple strudels"? I can't remember it, and it's bugging me.

The obligatorily cheesy Thanksgiving post

When talking about Thanksgiving with my classes this week, I told them about the tradition that a lot of families have - that of, after they've sat down at the table and before they've started eating, going around in a circle and having everyone say something they're thankful for. I asked my classes what they would say, and a lot of them had trouble coming up with things, shrugging at me in that sort of teenager way that suggest that life sucks and gratefulness is cheesy, thank you very much.

Well, anyway, even through I'm not at home with my family this year (and haven't been at the last three Thanksgivings), there's a lot I'm thankful for.

I'm really thankful that I have this wonderful opportunity to spend a year in Berlin. I know I complain a lot, both on this blog and in private correspondence, but the positive aspects of life here outweigh the negative. I may sometimes be annoyed at the students and their failure to pay attention or their complaining or whatever, but I'm learning a lot about teaching - primarily that, given time and lots of practice, I think I can become a pretty good teacher. And of course the city of Berlin is terrific. I've been here for more than two months, and I'm still infatuated with it.

I'm grateful for my family - for my parents, who have been really supportive of my whole "overseas experiment," even though I know the thought that I'm on the other side of the world sort of freaks them out. And for my sister, who's coming to visit over Christmas - a big thing for her, since she doesn't really like traveling. Or Europe. But I'm really excited that she's coming.

And of course for my terrific friends - I know that when I graduated, I had this sense that I was being torn from people I'd really come to care a lot about, particularly since I was going so far away and wouldn't be back for Homecoming or be able to visit people in Boston. And I do miss people, including those I've kept in touch with - I miss griping about work, and going to dinner in the dining hall en masse, and doing all the things that belong to student life. But I really met a lot of lovely people during college, and I'm interested in seeing what sort of adults we'll all turn out to be.

And I'm grateful, of couse, for the fundamentals. For having a place to sleep, food, clean water, good health - things that I mostly take for granted, and that most of the world doesn't have.

Anyway, a happy Thanksgiving to everyone, and hope everyone has a good long weekend!

For your consideration . . .

Item: I think I'm becoming a German. I've noticed lately that I seem to be picking up the German habit of uttering a rather interrogative "Hmmm" when you're having a conversation and the other person is speaking. It's hard to describe, obviously - it's just sort of a "yeah, I follow you and am considering what you're saying" sound. I find myself doing it even when I'm speaking English to my friends here. Did I do this before? I can't even remember.

Item: I'm never going to be a German. One of the things that suprised me the most when I first came happened when I ordered a cheese sandwich at a bakery near my hostel. I bit into it, and found that the sandwich had tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese . . . and butter. Apparently they put butter on all their sandwiches here, but on a cheese sandwich? I would never have thought to do that. I've discussed this odd combination of dairy products with other Americans here, and we all think it's really weird. I still get cheese sandwiches, but I don't know that I'll ever get used to the butter part.

On self-discovery, and bodies of water

Because that's why you go abroad, right? To discover yourself in a way you can't at home.

I was thinking of this when I was in Hamburg last weekend and riding around the Elbe on a ferry, and again today when I made my usual visit to the Turkish Market in Kreuzberg. The market is along the Maybachufer, a branch of the Spree River here in Berlin. Part of my Friday afternoon ritual involves getting a coffee at a stand at the end of the long row of market stands, and drinking it as I look out on the river. There are lots of swans, and there's usually a family with small children standing next to me, leaning against the ledge and throwing bread down to them. The river reflects the sun and the clouds and the various colors of the leaves. It's one of my favorite parts of the city.

And today, I was standing against the ledge, enjoying the mild fall weather, and I thought to myself: wherever I end up, it's got to be a city with a river. I don't want to forgo moments like this.

So, there's one thing I feel sure about in an uncertain future. I have a ticket to fly out of Berlin next summer, and I'm not at all sure I want to leave. I'm applying to enter grad school next fall, and I'm not at all sure I want to go.

But I'm pretty sure that I want to be near a river, wherever life takes me.

My sitting muscles feel well used today . . .

I've always heard about clothing items shrinking in the wash, but I've never actually seen it happen. Honestly, I always thought of it as sort of an urban legend, or at least something exaggerated by companies trying to sell new dryers. But no, yesterday I was sticking some clothes into the washing machine in a bit of a hurry (I wanted to get outside for a walk while it was still light out) and stuck a sweater in there without noticing it. Two hours later, I pulled out the sweater, which had, in fact, shrunk. Drastically, dramatically, and permanently.

So . . . anyone have a baby or a doll in the market for a green sweater?

Today was one of those days where I was expecting to get things done and instead was forced to sit around, which is annoying. Tuesday is usually my busiest day - I have class in the first, third, fourth, fifth and sixth periods. Today would have been even busier, too, since I was planning to have the first meeting of the English discussion group I'm starting at school at the end of the day, after the seventh period.

Yesterday, though, the teacher I'm with in the third and fourth periods told me that she wouldn't be at school - she was taking another class to an English theater workshop. Then, the teacher of the fifth period class told me that I didn't need to come, since the students were taking a test. So, I was basically looking at a big gap between the first and sixth periods. I spent the time preparing a lesson for tomorrow, reading the paper, and doing some thumb twiddling.

Then, in the middle of the fifth period, my Betreuungslehrer - which basically means "mentor;" he's the person who's sort of in charge of me and who I'm supposed to go to if I have problems - came and told me that the sixth period class where I was supposed to be would have only six members; the others were going to the English theater group I mentioned before. So, instead of doing the lesson with them and then having to catch the others up, he'd decided to just have them watch The Graduate (they were reading a coming of age short story, so it was sort of not tangential). So I went up and watched it with them. It's a very funny movie, but it wasn't like I needed to be there to watch it.

Well, I thought, at least I have the first meeting of the English group. Yeah, that didn't exactly turn out as expected either. First of all, the room I'd planned to use, and that my Betreuungslehrer (oh, let's just call him Bl) told me was free, was already in use - luckily by a teacher I knew, so I was able to explain the confusion and apologize. Then, the students who had expressed interest in coming to the group came by and told me that they were sorry, but their Cambridge English course - which the Bl is also responsible for organizing - was at the same time as I'd planned the meeting, so they couldn't come. There was only one person there from another class, and after waiting vainly for about ten minutes, I thanked her and let her go.

So, it's been sort of a frustrating day. I don't mind finding another time to have the English group, especially since I'm grateful that people are actually interested in it. I'm just feel like I sat around for nothing, and it's disheartening to realize that the Bl, while he's very nice, is not exactly the most reliable source of information, and that I need to check things like room availability and student schedules more carefully in the future.

Not to whine too much, though - things are otherwise going well. I'm trying to put together a pasta dinner for a few other assistants in Berlin - I've felt quite hostess-y lately. I'm also trying to think ahead to next week for fun things I can do to tell my classes about Thanksgiving - I'd really like to work the old "trace your hand and make a turkey" into an actual English lesson, since I always got a kick out of it as a child, and it's such a venerable American tradition.

Hamburger, bamburger

I remembered on Tuesday evening what I had wanted to note on the last post but forgotten - a new one in the annals of people asking me for directions. I was standing on the S-Bahn platform that afternoon, waiting for a train and eating a roll. As I was very visibly chewing, a woman came up to me and asked me where the train was that went toward the main station.

Like I said, it was pretty obvious that my mouth was full - I had pretty much just bitten off a piece of roll when she approached me. Also, the platform was quite crowded with non-eating people, so it's not as if it was a choice between asking me, the chewing person, and being eternally unable to find the central station. I'm not sure why she chose me, unless it was the vibe I give off that tells people to ask me for directions.

Anyway, she was just standing on the wrong side of the platform, so, still chewing, I pointed (with the hand not holding the roll) to the sign on the other side that said that the next train was going to the central station. She thanked me and left before I swallowed.

I was only able to post this today because I've been in Hamburg for the last few days, my first trip since Fall Break. It was a nice time - I spent a lot of Thursday night and yesterday just walking around. I also took a boat ride on the Elbe and met J., another teaching assistant and an acquiantance from Middlebury, for coffee and cake, and we went to see an exhibit on Cleopatra and the Caesers. I meant to spend most of today there as well, in what I've read is a lovely botanical garden, but I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night, as people kept coming in from a night out, going out of the room to use the bathroom, coming back in, going out to brush their teeth, coming back in, etc. . . My bed was right next to the door, so about 5 a.m. I just gave up trying to go back to sleep and read until breakfast at 7. Also, it was raining pretty hard when I checked out of the hostel, so I ended up giving up the idea of the garden and taking an earlier train back to Berlin.

So I think today it'll be to bed early, and then tomorrow some grad school applications and lesson planning.

On a lighter note

There was something that happened today that made me think, "Hey! I should make that into a blog entry."

Now, of course, I've forgotten what it was.

In the meantime, I found a really funny article online: http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200303/rauch

Power to the quiet people, baby.

Culture (shock).

Sometime in the spring of my sophomore year there was a meeting for all the students who were going to be studying abroad the next year. During the meeting, the head of the study abroad program gave us a little talk on the four stages of culture shock: the initial euphoria of being in a foreign country where everything is new and different; the culture shock itself, where you kind of just want to get back to the old and familiar; the process of gradual adjustment; and finally, assimilation and bi-culturalism.

I kept these stages in mind during my junior year, but I never really felt as though I was experiencing them. I had good days and bad days, but mostly I was just really happy to be in Europe. When I got back to the U.S. in May of 2005 I had a really nasty case of reverse culture shock, but that's a different story.

Now, I think, I'm sort of getting a more realistic idea of life abroad, culture shock included. I realized even during my junior year that, because I was in a program with other Americans where classes were taught in English, I wasn't really getting as immersed into another culture as people who studied at foreign universities or lived with host families and who had to deal with living in a foreign language all the time. I learned a little Greek and Italian, but used it mostly for ordering coffee or saying "Excuse me" if I bumped into someone on the street. It was if I were living in a foreign country, but only within an American bubble that sort of kept me from having to worry too much about dealing with Greeks and Italians.

Well, this time there ain't no bubble. I have to work with Germans, live with Germans, and speak German on a regular basis. And I think that if culture shock had a song, it would be called - in the line of "I'm in the Mood for Love" - I'm Not in the Mood to Deal. As in, I don't really want to ask for a coffee from the cafe and have to deal with the barista looking suprised at my accent. I don't really want to deal with the eighth graders I have for a period tomorrow who all talk when I'm trying to give them instructions and then clam up when it's actually time to speak English. I don't want to talk to my roommates, who are very nice but who have lived together for years, and find that I've done something else that disrupts their normal way of doing things, like arranging the mugs the wrong way in the dishwasher.

I don't want to go home, exactly. I sort of just want to get a book, make myself a pot of tea, wrap myself in a blanket, and just veg out for a few hours.

Which, after I get some work done on grad school applications and make sure I have things in order for tomorrow's lessons, is exactly what I might do.

Mmmm, winter.

Another list:

1. The winter coat that I brought with me (and that took up about half of my big suitcase) is finally out of the closet. Probably a few days later than it should have been, considering it's been quite cold here for the past few days.

2. Remember the post I wrote a few weeks ago saying that I'd been paid too much and had let the people who pay us know about it? Well, last week I heard from them, and they said that my September payment was "in Ordnung," i.e., correct, and that I didn't need to give them any money back, and that from now on I'll be getting the standard 703€ a month. And I thought, fine.

Then, yesterday, I went to check my bank account and saw that I'd already been paid for October - except that the sum I'd received was 542€. Which, last time I checked, does not equal 703€. I don't know what to do about this.

3. A sparrow has managed to get into the internet cafe and is now proceeding to bang itself continuously against the large windows, hoping to get out. I feel a strange sense of sympathy with it.