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.

Lueneburg Lunacy

I have been molding this update in my head for some time now, and hopefully I can pass on some creativity and humor into it. In the meantime, sit tight. I flew from Boston to Zurich on Swiss air, then on to Hamburg. Each of these legs were relatively uneventful, I was only able to talk to one lady, Lutsija. She was, unfortunately, not too open to my “Hey what events in your life caused you to be sitting next to me?” interrogation, but I did find out that she grew up in Czechoslovakia, back when the country was one large section of the Iron Curtain. She eventually moved to Germany, slowly learning the language, but eventually moving to the US. She did not make the most interesting story ever, but flights across the Atlantic can be mind-numbingly boring. Anyway, upon arrival in Hamburg, the plane parked in the middle of the tarmac, well away from any gates. Because of this, they summoned the Deutsches Rotes Kreuz (German Red Cross) for my benefit only. For some odd reason, the Lufthansa authorities thought I needed a two-man medical crew capable of performing a triple bypass, just to get off the plane. Regardless, I got a ride in the back of a medical van, across the tarmac, and even persuaded the medical crew to get me around the crowd at passport control and collect my bags for me! They are sure putting their extensive medical school training to good use. Once I was through customs I met a USAC professor, Soeren, who led me to the train station and eventually back to Luneburg.

When I finally arrived in Luneburg, Soeren helped me find my housing, which ended up being a campus apartment with a full bathroom and kitchen which I share with another person. My flatmate turned out to be a girl, Xin Wang, from China. Upon arrival I could hardly speak any German, and that is all I could manage to ask her, but there will be more about her later. That night I met up with all of the other USAC students, all Americans, at a pub called Die Maelzer, which brews its own beer, hefeweizen and pilsener, both of which are amazing. We hung out at this pub for several hours, each of us trying to break the ice with basic introductory questions to each of our neighbors. When we left that night, I walked home with several members of the group. When I reached my apartment, we said goodnight, then I realized that I had no alarm clock. The others offered to stop by and wake me up, but being the independent person that I am, I refused, briefly explaining to them how a mental alarm clock works (repeating the desired wake up time in your head a few hundred times before you go to sleep). They were very impressed that I had this ability, so they went on their way.

The next morning we had a brief orientation at 10 o clock. My mental alarm clock usually works flawlessly, but occasionally misinterprets my meaning. This particular morning it woke my up at exactly 10 am, much to my dismay. Literally hopping in my chair and grabbing my gloves, I blasted out of my door, setting land speed records on my way to the center of Luneburg where we would start the orientation. Halfway there, I met up with two girls from the group whom were also very late. More relaxed now that I knew I was not the only one fashionably late, I walked with them to town. We made it to the rendezvous point, only to miss our group by ten minutes. We decided to facilitate our own tour of the city, striking off in various locations from the center of the city. The center of the city, by the way, is a big cobble-stoned plaza called Am Sande. On each side of the plaza are old facades of preserved buildings, dating back at least 500 years. (The town itself is over 1000 years old). At one end of the plaza is the massive St. Johannis Kirche. Complete with a huge, copper and brick steeple, the church is more the size of a cathedral. The steeple is so large and tall, one can easily use it to navigate around the city. Anyway, back to the tour. We wandered our way down several pedestrian-only main streets, two of which were Greater and Lesser Baker Streets. On either side, no matter where we went, we saw ritzy boutiques, small kiosks, bakeries, and at least one cafe/restaurant every 50 feet. Realizing the staggering number of cafes per capita, we decided to take advantage of this, so we sat down at one particular cafe owned by some Brazilians. The cappuccino was amazing, as was the marble cake. Halfway into our breakfast, Soeren, who was giving the tour for the group that was on time, found us sipping coffee. He decided to give us a personal tour, much to our surprise. Accompanying him all over the city, he explained the various sights, such as the best bars and cafes, the super-secret hidden bars and cafes, and Der Alte Kran, an old wooden crane that stands next to the banks of the Ilmenau River, which runs through Luneburg. Aparently this crane is over 1000 years old and was used to haul goods to and from boats, especially salt, which was mined underneath the town and sold all over the known world, making Luneburg a very rich city. As we crossed several streets, Soeren pointed out small brass stones set amongst some of the cobblestones in front of various houses throughout the city. Inscribed with family names, each “stumbling stone” marks a house where there used to live a Jewish family who was exterminated in the war. We then walked across Markt Platz (Market Square) where, neatly laid out across the entire square was a sea of tents, each selling various fresh produce. The farmer's market, Soeren told us, had many delicious types of food, but he cautioned us about dealing with the “farming folk”, whom he deemed very blunt, easy to cross people. Markt Platz is also the location of the famous Rathaus (town hall). Other than the church already mentioned, there are two other churches, both at least as big as St. Johannis, but one has a neo-gothic spire and the other has a short, rounded spire. The latter of the two is a church where J.S. Bach sung at, back in the days of yore. There will be more about this church in a later update.

That night we had dinner at a restaurant called Hemmingway's. The food was delicious and feeling daring, I tried spargel, which turned out to be white asparagus, a specialty of northern Germany. It was good, but they slobbered way too much hollandaise sauce on it. Afterwards I demonstrated my wheelchair skills to the group, bumping down several stairs to the bathroom. There was much ooh-ing and ahh-ing. Anyway, after dinner I had to head back to my apartment near campus, which is a good 15 minute walk from the center of town. Later that night I tried to find a billiards establishment where the rest of the group was going to hang out, but I got horribly lost. I ended up in the rough side of town, where I came across several groups of punks/grunge/sketchy hoodlums, all of which were dressed in various forms of black clothing, too much make-up and tattoos, most of whom were drinking some kind of beer (which is not illegal on the street). Giving them an awkward “hallo”, I managed to get past them and through the narrow, gloomy alley that I had found myself in.

Some side notes:

I did end up remembering enough German to ask my flat-mate who she is. Apparently she is 29 and used to live and work in Peking as a journalist of sorts. She has been living in Germany for 3 years, and now she works at the University, teaching students Chinese. She has a big family, with a sister who works for Chinese customs. I asked her what her parents did for a living, and she only told me that they work for the government. I thought later that most people in China must work for the government, so I will have to inquire some more. She likes to cook, and we even cooked some pesto and brats together one night, which she ate with chopsticks. I tried to do the same, and I failed miserably and was laughed at. She is really nice though and very helpful with my language difficulties. Occasionally I get very frustrated because the only language we have remotely in common is German, so I must speak what little I know. She has this super language computer, however, that can translate any word from English, to Chinese, and then to German, then it can also speak the word to you.

Other than that, Luneburg is home to many ethnically diverse peoples. The majority are Turkish, but there are several Africans of sorts, Brazilians, and Cubans. Turkish food is amazing. I have had a doener several times at this place in Am Sande and it is delicious.

My classes are awesome! I am actually learning and retaining what goes on in class! The teacher, Michaela, is very good at making sure you remember and keeping your attention by not staying on one topic too long. The University is very nice. It is a converted army base, with classes in the old barracks and a few cafes, a bookstore, copy center and such in the old tank garages. There seem to be a lot of students as well and they are often outside doing something, making it seem like there are more people here than there really is.

In conclusion, I am having an awesome time, learning a lot, and meeting really cool people.