Lueneburg Lunacy II

Hello Everyone,

I have just realized that I had not written anything for a while, so I came to the conclusion that it was time to enlighten all of you on my adventures of late, such as they are. I recommend you find a comfy chair and a tub of good ice cream, for if you find my narrative to not be of an “edge of your seat” nature, then at least you have consumed a good amount of delicious ice cream in your boredom, and therefore feel good about yourself. At least you should, because if you had any sense at all you would have chosen Ben and Jerry's Dublin Mudslide, which is of a unique amazingness. According to my spell checker, “amazingness” is not even a legitimate word, but I shall use it anyway in spite. To hell with my word processor. Anyway, I should get to the point.

I have been in The Fatherland for a month and I have learned many things, mainly how crazy the German language can get, especially if one is used to the neutrality of English. We have spent a good amount of time learning the genders of nouns, which apart from being masculine, feminine and neuter, the genders have very little to do with what the word actually means and they all have completely different articles. For example, a man is “der mann” and a woman is “die Frau” but a girl is “das Maedchen”, which is neuter. A lollipop is “der lolli” however, in my mind there is very little masculinity surrounding a lollipop. Could you imagine a bunch of rednecks at their buddy's house, watching “the game” and each of them drinking a beer, all of them exuding an aura of “I am so manly, my man-osity is beyond manness!” Then one of them reaches for a bag of lollipops, passing them out to their shocked buddies, “Der lolli ist sehr mannlich, ihr habt keine idee.” I shall not imagine the beat down that would have probably ensued. Anyway, the point I am making is that adding genders to everything is ridiculous, especially when they don't make sense. Regardless, I have a grasp of it, and all of my tests and homework have been quite proficient.

Conniving in Cologne

Now, on with the adventures. Two weeks ago I took a trip with the international students to Cologne, which is a 2000 year old city on the banks of the Rhine river in Western Germany. Originally a Roman settlement of 40000 people, it is now Germany's 4th largest city with the seat of the Archbishop of Germany, located within the largest Cathedral in Europe, the Dom. The people of Cologne, much like people from most of the other German cities and states, have a very unique culture. Aside from all Cologners speaking German, even though they have their own dialect (Koelsch, which barely resembles German), they might as well be a separate city-state. They brew a unique beer, also called Koelsch, which is only served in small, strait glasses. It is meant to be drank quickly because it goes stale easily, forcing the waiters and waitresses to develop strong arms to carry the massive trays full of refills that the Cologners constantly demand. The people also have a fascination for Roman ruins, some of which they stumble across while building a parking garage under the Dom, renovating the town hall, or building bomb shelters to escape relentless retribution of the Allies during the last world war. The city is littered with museums and random Roman buildings, walls, and statues which they have found and either built the museum on top of them, or lifted the ruins to street level. We had the opportunity to tour many of these places, one of which was the remains of a palace, exactly underneath the present town hall.

The Dom dominates the entire city, easily the tallest and most distinct building in the center of the city. Built by a Frenchman in the Gothic style, most horizontal lines have been eliminated, giving one the idea that they have little or no significance in the shadow of such a massive building, and by association, the Catholic religion. Having no qualms about this, I decided that one of the bell towers needed to be climbed. Everything, however, costs money. Everyone in my group paid a few Euros and began climbing the 509 steps to the top. When I got to the ticket counter I asked for a ticket, completely surprising the clerk. He must have thought that I was a few quarts short of a gallon when he understood that I wanted to climb on my hands the whole way, so he waived the fee, more or less saying that if I was crazy enough, it didn't matter. Climbing tight spiral staircases not much wider than my shoulders, I slowly made my way up, every few minutes catching a glimpse of the surrounding city from a drainage hole along the outer edge of the steps. Finally reaching the top and completely destroying my muscles and joints, I had a commanding view of the city and the Rhine. Later on, after the descent, we toured the majestic naives of the Dom. In the oldest section sits a magnificent, intricately carved gold chest, enclosed in glass and illuminated by spotlights. The Dom claims to have the remains of the Three Wise Men in this chest, but I have my doubts. How does one wise man who witnessed the birth of Christ end up Cologne, much less three wise men? Obviously it took three not-so-wise men to bring their bones thousands of miles to their present location. And who told them they could be so wise? I was told I was being wise once, and for some inexplicable reason I was slapped shortly thereafter. Wisdom then showed me that it was not wise to be wise, especially when you know that you wisdom is far superior. Enough ranting.

We spent our free time at night, visiting various pubs and cafes. Both nights I went pub hopping with another guy from my group, Chris, who is a philosophy and literature major, and enjoys nothing more than to flex his philosophical ideas onto others whilst using as many long, complicated words as he can muster, which I must say is quite a few. Regardless, we found ourselves at an Irish pub that sold Beamish, an equally tasty but not as popular Guinness style stout. The bartender, we concluded, is the coolest bartender ever. Authentically Irish, he greeted us with “What'll it be today, lads?” As he took our orders he started a conversation with us about our struggles to learn German, comparing it to his own methods of learning the language. The following conversation was highly entertaining, as Shammy (his name) used the uniquely Irish word “fook” in every possible way the word could be used, and some he invented on the spot. In one story involving his first experiences learning pubdeutsch he explained that a lady came into the pub and asked him if she could bring her dog in with her. Having no idea what she was saying, he just said yes (which works in many situations) and the lady brought her dog in. Later on, as he was taking her drink order (he had not realized she brought the dog in) he tripped over the dog. Finding his balance, he picked up her dog, exclaiming “What the fook is this? A fookin dog? Well fook! What the fook is a fookin dog doin in me bar?” At that, he dropped the dog from several feet, onto the floor. Shammy went on with several other equally ridiculous stories, at the end of which I concluded, yet again, that the Irish have the best pubs.
Other than what I have typed thus far, there is not much else to say other than what you would not see in my Koln picture album on Facebook. We had a bus ride from hell on the way to Cologne, literally. The air conditioning on the bus did not work, but the heat sure did, which pumped full blast the entire 6 hours of the journey. Needless to say, we were all “well done” by the time we reached our hostel.

Damn, I must go and finish my homework. I have yet to be outside today as well, so I must go wander somewhere. I have been waiting most of this day for something exciting to happen itself upon me, but I have come to the conclusion that I should go and find excitement. Stay tuned though, there should be more narratives on the way, for things do have a tendency to happen, so to speak.